Free AOS Creative Writing Marking!

[Annie657]

Hey Annabelle! Thank you x1010038 for getting your post count up from 15 to 25. We really appreciate this kind of commitment, so thanks for being a star! I'll take a look at this

Spoiler

The crunching sand between my toes awakens my senses. Paving the way to the main event; my steps quicken in anticipation as I behold the great blue force of mother nature beyond. Icy water laps at my feet, but my toes embrace it’s cool touch, never shirking away in betrayal of my heart’s greatest love. All it takes is a single leap into it’s waiting aims as the waves press me forward, almost as if they are whispering, “come closer, closer”,  in response to my daily ritual.

“BANG!” the starter’s gun goes off, and while the young fledglings sprint into the ocean’s depths, wielding the waters as a tool to bring themselves personal glory, I hesitate; knowing it’s beauty is only revealed to those who look deeper, below the smooth surface. Slowly but surely I make my way out and around those obnoxious fluoro buoys, a seeming act of vandalism against the serene horizon. I understand a lot about the way the protagonist feels about the ocean already - how wonderful!

You see the thing is, I was one of them not all that long ago. I craved the feeling of cool gold kissing my neck, and hungered for the next second off my personal best.

It was she who changed me. She who revealed the world to me in a way that I once ignored.

Eyes brimming with excitement she dove in next to me, the grin spreading across her face an unspoken promise to follow her father’s footsteps; this thought however sweet could not cloud my judgement; I had a job to do. Like always, I was there to win; my sole purpose to outswim my competitors and hurtle over that finish line in first position. Muscles tensed from the moment the cool water hit me; a shock to my system, Jordan next to me too over-rating in response to the numbing of all exposed limbs. Turning my eyes forward, a gap in the break soon opened up in our midst. An opportunity too advantageous to miss, “Jordan, follow me!”, I yelled over the pounding waves and splashing bodies; her response inaudible in the chaotic intensity of the race. I knew it was now or never, and rode the current foward to open ocean. Dialogue needs a new line Also, just a typo in forward*

It was go time.

Powerfully I propelled myself forward, the waves pushing me on as I stroked to the head of the front pack. My mind was clearly focused on that end goal, reciting over and over, “I had put in the countless hours, turned my arms those thousands of times in preparation for this one moment”. Nothing was ever going to come between me and that pure glory. Nothing. And of course Jordan knew that too. Or so I thought.

As my breaths started coming fast and hard, I chucked a glance towards my right. Only a endless horizon extended into the midst; to my left only a row of swimmers jostling over those finish line honours.

Panic started to set in, my breaths coming harder and faster, no longer from exertion but parental fear pooling in the bottom of my stomach as I stopped to scull and take in the water around me. Absolutely nothing. The competition, only a few minutes ago so important to me, thrust out of my mind.

I began my frantic scramble back to the beach, head up while I scanned the blue peaks for her telltale purple cap. So many swimmers, so many turning arms and legs oblivious to my distress. I wanted to scream at them, “please help me! Can anyone….. Please!” but I was alone in my silent struggle; my anguish internal as possibilities of her whereabouts streamed like rapids through my mind. I'm finding it hard to comment because I'm sucked in to the commotion!!

Left and right I zig zaged, ducking under and over the water for my Jordan. Minutes, seemingly hours passed with no sign of her, but my search would not cease for even a second as I vowed to cover every centimetre of that ocean floor if it came to it. That reef in the distance? The only unsearched waters I hadn’t ventured seemed unlikely, but in my desperation I had to keep that sliver of hope alive, my swim towards the rocks began without hesitation. At first, nothing; only the sound of squabbling seagulls and splashing fish there to mask that almighty cry threatening to spill out of me; but then a flash of purple in the corner of my eye snagged my attention. Legs and arms now weary, almost trembling in exhaustion; every stroke a struggle as I sprinted in it’s direction. “Its her. it’s her.” I repeated over and over in my mind, convincing myself she was there. No other thought could I face; this phrase all that was keeping me whole.

All of a sudden, that purple cap became a face among the froth.

“Dad!”

Time stopped. My excruciating anguish subsided to relief at the sight of Jordan’s face, that innocent excitement so oblivious to my crippling worry only moments ago. It took every last ounce of energy for me to make it over to her, I soaked in every inch of her face I only minutes ago thought was lost forever. We embraced even as she wriggled to stay afloat, and in response to her confusion over my emotional state; “later Jordan. Later.” Those harsh words and realisations would have to come, but later. Adrenaline was still surging through my system, and for now, an explanation of her whereabouts would suffice.

“I was swimming with you dad, but then you disappeared. I just guessed you were trying win, and I couldn’t keep up, so I swam over here, to the reef” . Eyes turned down, in almost a whisper, “Unless I was with you, I didn’t want to compete…...I saw some dory and nemo fish, some pretty pink coral…………….”

I had zoned out; her words hitting me harder surely than intended. The thought of her racing just to be with me had never crossed my mind, and to see the ocean as more than just forward currents and obstructing waves? But instead appreciate it for it’s beauty and gentle hold. It was a foreign concept, but not one I could not grasp in one look below the surface. Gesturing towards all the vibrant corals extending the length of the ocean floor, fish swimming in schools instinctively following one another; I thought she might be onto something. We spent hours exploring it’s depths, beauty I never imagined existing only a few metres deeper than I cared to look. And seeing the joy on her face; I finally understood her desires not to be like me, but to be with me, her eyes seeing the ocean as something so much more than merely a tool for attaining glory.

It was only then I came to realise winning a meagre race was not a triumph over mankind, but instead an ignorance towards nature, lacking the ability to appreciate it’s power in bringing individuals together, through a shared understanding of it’s infinite beauty. Today however, with this knowledge in hand, it is father and daughter who stroke together; all the while keeping an eye on the ocean floor; the beauty of the briny deep revealed only to those who seek it.

Word Count: 1192

Where to begin! I didn't comment a lot throughout because I was just being taken on a journey with the storyline the entire time! Such a pleasure to be taken through the motions like this, there were intense times and there were calm times. I have to say, I think your story is more complicated than what it needs to be. This isn't to say I think it's too complicated, but I will tell you the most outstanding discovery to me. The relationship with the water was assessed at several stages during the piece and it was really refreshing to look at these as minor discoveries. But also, the relationship between reward in materialism and reward through naturalism. To be engaged in materialism meant that it was about the award, the winner. But then it was discovered that the main winner here was when we could see the ocean in a way that was natural, giving, and rewarding in its own way. The interactions between humans like Jordan actually confused me, I found myself reading those sections twice and then discarding them in my mind in a way, so that I could continue with the narrative about the relationship with the sea. So I suppose this presents you an interesting idea, that you could continue this onwards by refining the interactions between Jordan and the protagonist. Or, you could really rake the story back to the simple story of the relationship with the water, which has a strong enough discovery by itself, and then decide if you want to replace the Jordan-interactions with something else. I'm interested for you to explain to me in words outside of the story what the conflict with Jordan is - and maybe I can suggest a way to embed it so that it serves to support the discoveries that I see strongest, instead of being a kind of distraction from them? But I'm happy for you to discard my reading all together, of course, if you want to stick to your guns with this one But, happy to chat about this to work out a way to better engage the aspects of the plot for a more cohesive story

Hi Elyse, thankyou so much for all the feedback!
I also felt like it was complicated and there was too much going on, I couldn't really expand on the impacts of the discovery, meaning I couldnt cut down my word count for risk of losing plot lines. Originally I wanted to focus of the discovery of the water, of the inherent beauty in nature in contrast to the character's initial view of it only as a tool to get what they wanted (like you said, materialism!) However, I only introduced Jordan because I couldn't think of a catalyst, something to promote this discovery. I would actually prefer my story without her, just because I would prefer to describe the ocean more and it is hard to build up a relationship with her in 800 words. What sort of catalyst do you think I could use?

If I kept Jordan, her relationship in my story with her father is that they race together in ocean swims, and the father only thinks she is happy because of the racing and excitement of it; however, she just wants to spend time with him, and does not actually care about the racing. But honestly I feel like I cannot explore this relationship properly within my main discovery, what do you think? My problem is just thinking of a catalyst for the ocean discovery

Anyway, thank you so so much for all your advice! Truly grateful for Atar notes

[beau77bro]

 

Hi all - I have the following on this board as yet to receive marking:
-Danitabasan
-Georgiia
-Winstondarmavan
-Beau77bro

You've asked how long to expect before these get marked, and I'm hoping to declare we'll be able to get to these by tomorrow evening (I'm making a trip to the library for a marking spree before I start Uni on Wednesday so anything that doesn't get done tonight - tomorrow!) but otherwise, by Wednesday evening for those who have already posted on this thread, at the latest I imagine. Hopefully this helps you work out a bit of a study plan in the mean time

THANKYOU ELYSE OML YOU GUYS ARE THE GREATEST. I can barely read my own creative how do u do it 

[Daniyahasan]

THANKYOU ELYSE OML YOU GUYS ARE THE GREATEST. I can barely read my own creative how do u do it 

omg thats so true, i cant read anyone elses work ahahahaha

[left right gn]

Hello, can I get some feedback on my creative!

[jamonwindeyer]

Hello, can I get some feedback on my creative!

Hey! Thanks for posting your Creative, our essay marking rules require you to have 25 posts to qualify for feedback - It's our way of prioritising for the Trial period. You are halfway there already!

[left right gn]

Hey! Thanks for posting your Creative, our essay marking rules require you to have 25 posts to qualify for feedback - It's our way of prioritising for the Trial period. You are halfway there already!

Ah that seems fair, I guess i better start posting

[elysepopplewell]

Oh my goodness this forum has been lit haha

Thank You so much Elyse!
Not sure if this is the right thread for this question but I'm wondering what are some ways that I can learn my creative between now and next week? Aside from adapting it to stimuli and recording myself? Do you recommend any websites that'll turn it into a close passage sort of thing or other websites that turn text into a memorising sort of thing?

Thanks!!

I read out my essays and creatives like a speech! So I'd inject a few exclamation marks here and there for the fun of the expression, and I'd jump into a persona and go for it like that. I found it easier to remember the lulls and highs of my voice presenting a speech because in that way, it's similar to a song, and not just like words I'm trying to bring to life. In saying this, my creative was a speech so I found it to be a whole lot easier to do this, and it made editing my speech really effective because I could notice a whole new way of expression when verbalising it, so I could go back and edit what was on the page.

However, dancing phalanges suggestions are out of this world!

I personally have the weirdest method that I came up with and it works 100% for every essay I memorise. I can't just memorise essays by look, cover, saying out loud and checking and it is in my opinion, a waste of time to right paragraph after paragraph out in full until it sinks in, you can do that a couple of times though. My method is a mixture of the two:
I read the 1st sentence, and then memorise it in my head and write the first letters of each word on the paper. So if the sentence was: Both Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World and Malala Yousafzai’s speech to the UN Youth Takeover explore through representation the impacts of individual defiance against repressive governments... I write it out like this: BAHBNWAMYSTUYTETRTIOIDARG... I know it is completely bizarre but it sticks in my head because it combines thinking out loud and not writing but moreso just the action of writing. Then i do next sentence, then next sentence, then put all 3 together and keep going until the essay is done. Now in saying all of this this is a weird special method for me that works 100% but it does for me and may not for you, and btw i dont go into exams and go oh i remember that sentence its... GHDJEBDK i acutally have the sentences in my head because of my method haha but anyway if this is too weird for you elyse posted a great thread on this exact topic here: https://atarnotes.com/memorising-english-essays/

This, is incredible. To me, I'm looking at it thinking "surely...surely that doesn't work" but it makes perfect sense really! I used mnemonics a lot, especially for my analysis in paragraphs, but more so in subjects other than English. So this is just an even more broken down version of mnemonics, in a way! Good on you for finding a really unique way that clearly works really well

Hi ATAR notes team, Elyse, Jamon, Rui, etc. Attached is my first draft for creative writing AOS. I have met the post requirements, and it was only two days ago I realised that 25 posts is more than you would think. Obviously I spend a regular amount of time on this fantastic forum, but in terms of adding posts, it takes time for them to gradually add up, especially since I did not want to post one word replies on topics just to get the amount to the total. Enough of my spill, below is my first draft, would love to get it reviewed. It is genuinely appreciated what this team does, your commitment to the students like myself does not go unnoticed.

Thankyou!

Hello!  Thanks a million for getting your posts up. We won't be long getting to you, promise!

[elysepopplewell]

Hi Elyse, thankyou so much for all the feedback!
I also felt like it was complicated and there was too much going on, I couldn't really expand on the impacts of the discovery, meaning I couldnt cut down my word count for risk of losing plot lines. Originally I wanted to focus of the discovery of the water, of the inherent beauty in nature in contrast to the character's initial view of it only as a tool to get what they wanted (like you said, materialism!) However, I only introduced Jordan because I couldn't think of a catalyst, something to promote this discovery. I would actually prefer my story without her, just because I would prefer to describe the ocean more and it is hard to build up a relationship with her in 800 words. What sort of catalyst do you think I could use?

If I kept Jordan, her relationship in my story with her father is that they race together in ocean swims, and the father only thinks she is happy because of the racing and excitement of it; however, she just wants to spend time with him, and does not actually care about the racing. But honestly I feel like I cannot explore this relationship properly within my main discovery, what do you think? My problem is just thinking of a catalyst for the ocean discovery

Anyway, thank you so so much for all your advice! Truly grateful for Atar notes

Hey again Okay, I really see why you put Jordan in...but I do agree that I prefer your story without her as well. Not because she's not a good idea, but simply because you don't have the word count to develop her into the story enough, and I also think that it serves as a distraction rather than as a catalyst. Sooo, I think we need to edit Jordan out and write something else in. I'm trying to think of minor changes to make for big result so as to not frighten you and make this easier, but I genuinely think we need to make some adjustments to the plot that won't be so minor. Of course, only take on what you want to take on, but I'll suggest some things anyway and you can take or leave whatever you fancy.

So, she loves the water, it's always been a constant for her. The opening scene is people fleeing into the water, and I kind of have this little nippers vibe happening, the youth is really promising and symbolic, and also a reflection of her younger experience at the beach. So that's really nice. Maybe we could explore the relationships she's had with the water a little more - how she was there every weekend and a few times after school for training, for races, as her family always helped her to do. Over time, maybe she spent some days there with the water as her muse for personal writings/paintings/songs, or maybe she shared intimate moments in her teen years, or other kind of experiences that are very personal and not all competitive. Then maybe, in the lead  up to the race she could be talking with her dad, her coach, whoever, and they'll be talking about the way the rips are swelling and the way the wind is blowing, and it'll make it sound so mechanical and not at all the natural muse she sees it as now. Then she'll start the race, it'll be a intense scene, lots flowing through her mind, and then she'll enter the water, sprinting in, paddling out, enough to be out of easy sight from the shore, and then she might just float. Surrender to the ocean, adore it's vast capacity, because to her, this was the real prize, and it wasn't a shiny trophy, but she was sure that no one needed to have it justified to them, because as she floats amongst the chaos, the swimmers move further and further away, and she then discovers that all along, this kind of solitude with the sea is the prize she needs.

Obviously this is MY vision of the story which I'm totally happy for you to take up in totality or partially, but what do you think? I think we still need person-interaction to avoid it becoming similar to a monologue, which is why I've put it with the before-race discussion, but keen to know what you think?

[elysepopplewell]

Thanks a bunch.

Shows how helpful it is to have a second pair of eyes to spot stuff that a marker might be confused by! That dialogue is supposed to be the biker talking - in my head I didn't spot anything wrong with it.

Stan lay dead still for a few minutes until his best friend got up. “Sorry pup, I’ve got stuff to do.” He looked up at Xavier: “See you ‘round bro.” I've read this over a few times now and I'm confused about the dialogue - I can't work out what's going on? When you say "he looked up," grammatically, you are indicating that Stan is the he. So then I'm not sure iff Xavier is saying both sentences or just one. Either way, you need to start a new line for the dialogue,
 and if the second sentence is said by someone other than Xavier, you need to start a new line for that as well. I'm sorry to be so lost in such a crucial part of the story!

In my mind, "...until his best friend got up" indicated possession of the biker for the forthcoming dialogue. And then "He looked up at Xavier" continues it for the next sentence. Stan walks to man > man strokes dog > Xavier strikes up a conversation (but whatever he says is omitted) > some of the biker's reply is included. I think I need to be clearer. Is the following the correct way regarding formatting?

Stan lay dead still for a few minutes until his best friend got up.

“Sorry pup, I’ve got stuff to do.” He looked up at Xavier: “See you ‘round bro.”

I'm kind of trying to avoid something super boring like "The man/biker said:" but I suppose it's more important to be clear. I think this is where the confusion begins:

His new friend obliged, having lowered himself slowly down onto his front step, so Xavier found himself having to start a conversation.

“He reminds me of my dog, Lucy,” the man confided. “I lost her a few months back.”

Narrator mentions Xavier beginning a conversation and then the other guy's dialogue begins. Is that confusing as well?


Regarding the meeting, I'll explain what I'm trying to do as its meaning has probably been lost in that abhorrent dialogue. As Jamon suggested, the discovery needed (from the first draft) to be drawn out a bit, with a more significant catalyst. So Stan sees the biker and runs off to him, wanting a hug. Xavier doesn't want to, because he thinks the biker's a bit intimidating and/or he won't like Stan. But, to his "wonder" (rubric term!!11!1!) the guy spends a few minutes stroking Stan, having had a dog himself. Xavier realises that Stan's carefree attitude (juxtapositioned with his analytical mindset/tendency to consider everything really deeply) enables him to live happily. This is what the last lines are trying to say but it's too blunt and could be more delicate. The "order was restored" line was supposed to highlight the significance of the fact Stan had stopped walking (and started again after they set off again), not something related explicitly to the final discovery/realisation.

Good afternoon

In terms of the new formatting: yes this is much more appropriate. It's easier to read and I do understand it all a little differently now. BUT, I think I've realised that the thing that makes me confused about who is saying what, might actually be, "he looked up at Xavier." Just because, I imagine someone down in order to look up, so I assume the dog is looking up and therefore the dog is saying the words. Obviously, the biker has been patting the dog so I understand why he is down and needs to look up, but I think nonetheless it should be adjusted for clarity - the two men might be both standing and they shake hands in a friendly/mate kind of way. This also might be a way for Xavier to almost resist for a moment, the spontaneity of shaking hands with a stranger like this, but he might feel better that he just connected at random with someone afterwards. I totally understand that you're trying not to use the boring scheme of dialogue. So, I think that perhaps changing the "looking up" thing might be all you need to change it up and it'll be a whole lot clearer. Also, I wasn't sure if I was just crazy in the way I read this so I showed my sister, and she said she was confused about the dynamic of the trio at this point too - so I think just adjusting the interaction there might be enough to pull it all into place!

[elysepopplewell]

Hey Guys,
So here is my creative writing piece, PLEASE go crazy with the marking
id like as much creative criticism as possible
this forum is honestly a life saver, THANK YOU SO SO MUCH
iv attached my creative below:)
ps - how long does it typically take for us to get the feedback?

Hey there! Thanks for sticking around, finally your turn
I've put some comments in the spoiler below but the bulk of the comments will be at the end

Spoiler

AOS DISCOVERY CREATIVE WRITING
The wind howled endlessly into the night, causing the hair matted upon on her arms to stand on their ends, almost in angst to escape what is to come. The overwhelming feeling that something was amiss, no need for a comma here held her back and prevailed over her trepidation. Her late night walk usually enlivened her, fulfilled every sense, energized energised* her like no amount of caffeine ever could. Yet, that day it felt like she’d run a thousand marathons. Her job being at stake, she somehow had to come up with a story, no matter what it took so she could thrust it upon her editor’s face within 48 hours’ time. As she walked towards the direction of home, something instead her churned, her intuition warned her. Her heart starting beating faster, beads of sweat started crawling down her forehead.  The "beads of sweat" analogy is overused, in my opinion. It's seldom that I call out cliches but unfortunately this is one I've seen too often, so I'd look for a new way of describing it
It seemed dangerous, and so, she surrendered to her thoughts and changed her direction. The adrenaline racing through her veins was unignorable and somewhat reassuring amongst the chaos of her mind. In hope of an edgy and uncommon story, she mustered up the fragments of her courage, and began the unprecedented walk into the other side of the town, known for its perilous nature. Most people preferred to keep distance from those areas of town, for reasons unknown. "known for its perilous nature" and then "for reasons unknown" kind of cancels each other out - presumably the reason people avoid this area is because it's dangerous. Pupils oscillating, finding final reassurance in whatever slivers of light have dared to venture this far into the alley alongside her, clutching the Polaroid camera in her hands tightly, she allows the darkness to swallow her whole.
Dark shadows danced amongst the walls, the flickering street lamps encouraging them to continue their haunting ritual into the endless night. Following the makeshift path excitedly, a growing sense of exhilaration manifesting itself, she takes in what is surrounding her. The abandoned warehouse stretched endlessly onwards, the walls on the opposite end of her barely visible, obstructed by the towering boxes and rusted vehicles. As much as the excitement that it brought, This doesn't make sense - try, "Although/despite the great excitement it brought,"she felt her hopes fall. A good spot for some imagery - what did she feel as her hopes fell? Was it a pain? A discomfort? Did she squirm? Did her mouth dry? Eyes ache? In this silentness silence* there was no possibility that she would be able to a produce a story for her column in the newspaper. Lingering around for what seemed like forever, with nothing interesting to get a hold on and much disappointment she decided to make her way back home. I'd be interested to have a description of her for the sake of imagery - I want to see a contrast of the type of journalist she was in this area. Is she in a suit? Or does she work for a publication where she can wear jeans? This also hints to us the kind of story she wants, but also gives us a better image of her exploring this area.
A piercing scream followed by gunfire caused her to jolt and stopped her in her tracks, steering her attention to a new light. The disappointment in her mind was replaced with bursting senses of excitement. Ever so quietly she followed the trail of light, spilling out from the cracks of a broken wall. Brimming with determination to get an insight into the happenings of this part of town for her article, she hoists herself up onto a crate and peers into the large cracks in the wall. It comes as a shock when encounters a set of steely grey eyes staring back at her. She finds herself completely frozen, equipped with nothing but her erratic mind devising countless amounts of incomprehensible escape plans. The next few moments came as a blur, the crate collapsed at her weight and she fell at the feet of a man. She raised her gaze slowly at the towering figure in front of her only to find the steely grey eyes once again piercing into her. The man pulled her to her feet and before she even had the chance to let a sound escape her, he hissed into her ear “Don’t even think about making a sound, you’ll regret it”. The full stop goes inside the quotation mark - and this dialogue needs to start on a new line He held onto her wrist tightly and pulled her along. Finding it difficult to keep with this strange man’s pace, she stumbled a few times, until they reached the warehouse. Thrusting her inside he shut the door and the sound of the lock clicking almost took her breath away.
A loud wailing sound filled the air, immediate instincts force her to push herself even harder into the crate she was slumped on, almost in an attempt to meld with it. Sickening screams attacked from all sides, surround her. She lay there whimpering, utterly confused and frightened in the dark. Contemplating her next action for a while, she does the only logical thing that comes to mind. Raising the Polaroid camera to her face, she pulls the trigger. A brilliant light flashes throughout the entirety of the room, revealing the horrifying scene laid out before her. I'm wondering why it's a Polaroid...it just seems a bit old school when nothing else suggests this is set in the past?
She catches a glimpse of a man’s back, but it’s the remarkably familiar tattoo on the man’s neck that makes her heart nearly stop “Stan… stop!” New line for new dialogue. Yet, the tall abductor walked off without even sharing a glance. She sat, baffled, about what just happened. The conversant tattoo inked on his back was the exact same tattoo that her dead brother once had. Slowly, she traced the design on the Polaroid; flashbacks reoccurring one by one as she touched every end.
It was a year ago, 22nd April – when the shocking news of Stan’s death knocked on their door. She stood there numb, not being able to comprehend the sudden change of event. Her mother, feeble and traumatized, traumatised* had collapsed out of shock. For a moment, everything felt agonizing. agonising* The sun that was brightly shining now appeared dark, the birds chirping seemed silent. It was an extremely gloomy day, which till day haunts both her and her mother.
Time seemed to have frozen, she still was holding tight onto the Polaroid. At that moment, she decided to wipe her tears and fight her thoughts. Pulling herself up, she dusted her pants and clutched onto both her handy camera and fortitude. Slowly but steadily, she surreptitiously walked across the room in hopes of finding a way out. Through the grills up top, the moon lit luminously and the stars glimmered, casting a shadow. While observing her environment, she discovered a door on the other side. A ray of hope lit up in her, and she pushed with all her force and might resulting in her crashing. Rubbing herself, she picks herself up and uses the walls as her support to assist her in the pitch black path, proceeds to walk. Up ahead, sounds of murmurs and people conversing catch her ear, exciting her.
After what seemed like forever, a beam of light shone through. She tip toed to the entrance, avoiding any attention. Then and there, the scene that she witnessed shook the earth beneath her feet. In front of her, the terrifying figure held a knife, coated and dripping in deep red. He slowly raised his head, she was still holding on tight to her camera. The light breeze gently blew on his messy tresses, a hint of glow revealed his face. It was Stan - the same enchanting green eyes, defined face cut, and sharp nose. She could not be mistaken, her brother was her life; she still had his face mapped in her mind as if she saw him in the morning. Tears welled up and began to drip down her face, a dilemma clouded her mind – what should she do now?

I really liked this story - the physical, moral, spiritual, emotional, and intellectual discovery is very intriguing. Not many students undertake these kind of moral dilemma stories so this is really fresh. Firstly, I think you need to change your Word Document to English (AU) because you've got some American spellings in there I edited some grammar towards the beginning as well although this seemed to fix itself up as the story went on.

My criticism comes from areas that seem just a little too unbelievable, or rather, were discussed a bit too abruptly instead of inviting the reader to understand. The moment I noticed this first was with the tattoo. Don't tell the reader she knew the tattoo was the same as her brothers, leave a bit of intrigue. You can say she recognised the tattoo immediately, but instantly saying "her brother died last year and had the same tattoo" is saying to the reader, "I know it's crazy but believe it" instead of having the reader on for a bit, getting them to wonder why and what was going on...and then revealing it in the last paragraph at the same time as the moral dilemma. This compounds at the end there, so the reader realises the moral dilemma at the same instant that the protagonist questions it herself. I also think the way she comes across the crime is a little unbelievable. She needs a story, she fearlessly walks into the perilous neighbourhood, and just as she's giving up, she hears a gunshot. I think perhaps there could be some more reluctance to enter the area at first, and then she goes in with a plan to interview some local businesses in the hopes of digging up a story there. This way she actually has a plan which seems more understandable and realistic. Then she gets caught up in hearing the gun shot, rather than it being just perfect timing. I hope this makes sense! This way your story shows a little more respect for the readers intellect, and invites them rather than forces them, which is always a great aspect of showing and not telling

What do you think?

[Daniyahasan]

Hey there! Thanks for sticking around, finally your turn
I've put some comments in the spoiler below but the bulk of the comments will be at the end

Spoiler

AOS DISCOVERY CREATIVE WRITING
The wind howled endlessly into the night, causing the hair matted upon on her arms to stand on their ends, almost in angst to escape what is to come. The overwhelming feeling that something was amiss, no need for a comma here held her back and prevailed over her trepidation. Her late night walk usually enlivened her, fulfilled every sense, energized energised* her like no amount of caffeine ever could. Yet, that day it felt like she’d run a thousand marathons. Her job being at stake, she somehow had to come up with a story, no matter what it took so she could thrust it upon her editor’s face within 48 hours’ time. As she walked towards the direction of home, something instead her churned, her intuition warned her. Her heart starting beating faster, beads of sweat started crawling down her forehead.  The "beads of sweat" analogy is overused, in my opinion. It's seldom that I call out cliches but unfortunately this is one I've seen too often, so I'd look for a new way of describing it
It seemed dangerous, and so, she surrendered to her thoughts and changed her direction. The adrenaline racing through her veins was unignorable and somewhat reassuring amongst the chaos of her mind. In hope of an edgy and uncommon story, she mustered up the fragments of her courage, and began the unprecedented walk into the other side of the town, known for its perilous nature. Most people preferred to keep distance from those areas of town, for reasons unknown. "known for its perilous nature" and then "for reasons unknown" kind of cancels each other out - presumably the reason people avoid this area is because it's dangerous. Pupils oscillating, finding final reassurance in whatever slivers of light have dared to venture this far into the alley alongside her, clutching the Polaroid camera in her hands tightly, she allows the darkness to swallow her whole.
Dark shadows danced amongst the walls, the flickering street lamps encouraging them to continue their haunting ritual into the endless night. Following the makeshift path excitedly, a growing sense of exhilaration manifesting itself, she takes in what is surrounding her. The abandoned warehouse stretched endlessly onwards, the walls on the opposite end of her barely visible, obstructed by the towering boxes and rusted vehicles. As much as the excitement that it brought, This doesn't make sense - try, "Although/despite the great excitement it brought,"she felt her hopes fall. A good spot for some imagery - what did she feel as her hopes fell? Was it a pain? A discomfort? Did she squirm? Did her mouth dry? Eyes ache? In this silentness silence* there was no possibility that she would be able to a produce a story for her column in the newspaper. Lingering around for what seemed like forever, with nothing interesting to get a hold on and much disappointment she decided to make her way back home. I'd be interested to have a description of her for the sake of imagery - I want to see a contrast of the type of journalist she was in this area. Is she in a suit? Or does she work for a publication where she can wear jeans? This also hints to us the kind of story she wants, but also gives us a better image of her exploring this area.
A piercing scream followed by gunfire caused her to jolt and stopped her in her tracks, steering her attention to a new light. The disappointment in her mind was replaced with bursting senses of excitement. Ever so quietly she followed the trail of light, spilling out from the cracks of a broken wall. Brimming with determination to get an insight into the happenings of this part of town for her article, she hoists herself up onto a crate and peers into the large cracks in the wall. It comes as a shock when encounters a set of steely grey eyes staring back at her. She finds herself completely frozen, equipped with nothing but her erratic mind devising countless amounts of incomprehensible escape plans. The next few moments came as a blur, the crate collapsed at her weight and she fell at the feet of a man. She raised her gaze slowly at the towering figure in front of her only to find the steely grey eyes once again piercing into her. The man pulled her to her feet and before she even had the chance to let a sound escape her, he hissed into her ear “Don’t even think about making a sound, you’ll regret it”. The full stop goes inside the quotation mark - and this dialogue needs to start on a new line He held onto her wrist tightly and pulled her along. Finding it difficult to keep with this strange man’s pace, she stumbled a few times, until they reached the warehouse. Thrusting her inside he shut the door and the sound of the lock clicking almost took her breath away.
A loud wailing sound filled the air, immediate instincts force her to push herself even harder into the crate she was slumped on, almost in an attempt to meld with it. Sickening screams attacked from all sides, surround her. She lay there whimpering, utterly confused and frightened in the dark. Contemplating her next action for a while, she does the only logical thing that comes to mind. Raising the Polaroid camera to her face, she pulls the trigger. A brilliant light flashes throughout the entirety of the room, revealing the horrifying scene laid out before her. I'm wondering why it's a Polaroid...it just seems a bit old school when nothing else suggests this is set in the past?
She catches a glimpse of a man’s back, but it’s the remarkably familiar tattoo on the man’s neck that makes her heart nearly stop “Stan… stop!” New line for new dialogue. Yet, the tall abductor walked off without even sharing a glance. She sat, baffled, about what just happened. The conversant tattoo inked on his back was the exact same tattoo that her dead brother once had. Slowly, she traced the design on the Polaroid; flashbacks reoccurring one by one as she touched every end.
It was a year ago, 22nd April – when the shocking news of Stan’s death knocked on their door. She stood there numb, not being able to comprehend the sudden change of event. Her mother, feeble and traumatized, traumatised* had collapsed out of shock. For a moment, everything felt agonizing. agonising* The sun that was brightly shining now appeared dark, the birds chirping seemed silent. It was an extremely gloomy day, which till day haunts both her and her mother.
Time seemed to have frozen, she still was holding tight onto the Polaroid. At that moment, she decided to wipe her tears and fight her thoughts. Pulling herself up, she dusted her pants and clutched onto both her handy camera and fortitude. Slowly but steadily, she surreptitiously walked across the room in hopes of finding a way out. Through the grills up top, the moon lit luminously and the stars glimmered, casting a shadow. While observing her environment, she discovered a door on the other side. A ray of hope lit up in her, and she pushed with all her force and might resulting in her crashing. Rubbing herself, she picks herself up and uses the walls as her support to assist her in the pitch black path, proceeds to walk. Up ahead, sounds of murmurs and people conversing catch her ear, exciting her.
After what seemed like forever, a beam of light shone through. She tip toed to the entrance, avoiding any attention. Then and there, the scene that she witnessed shook the earth beneath her feet. In front of her, the terrifying figure held a knife, coated and dripping in deep red. He slowly raised his head, she was still holding on tight to her camera. The light breeze gently blew on his messy tresses, a hint of glow revealed his face. It was Stan - the same enchanting green eyes, defined face cut, and sharp nose. She could not be mistaken, her brother was her life; she still had his face mapped in her mind as if she saw him in the morning. Tears welled up and began to drip down her face, a dilemma clouded her mind – what should she do now?

I really liked this story - the physical, moral, spiritual, emotional, and intellectual discovery is very intriguing. Not many students undertake these kind of moral dilemma stories so this is really fresh. Firstly, I think you need to change your Word Document to English (AU) because you've got some American spellings in there I edited some grammar towards the beginning as well although this seemed to fix itself up as the story went on.

My criticism comes from areas that seem just a little too unbelievable, or rather, were discussed a bit too abruptly instead of inviting the reader to understand. The moment I noticed this first was with the tattoo. Don't tell the reader she knew the tattoo was the same as her brothers, leave a bit of intrigue. You can say she recognised the tattoo immediately, but instantly saying "her brother died last year and had the same tattoo" is saying to the reader, "I know it's crazy but believe it" instead of having the reader on for a bit, getting them to wonder why and what was going on...and then revealing it in the last paragraph at the same time as the moral dilemma. This compounds at the end there, so the reader realises the moral dilemma at the same instant that the protagonist questions it herself. I also think the way she comes across the crime is a little unbelievable. She needs a story, she fearlessly walks into the perilous neighbourhood, and just as she's giving up, she hears a gunshot. I think perhaps there could be some more reluctance to enter the area at first, and then she goes in with a plan to interview some local businesses in the hopes of digging up a story there. This way she actually has a plan which seems more understandable and realistic. Then she gets caught up in hearing the gun shot, rather than it being just perfect timing. I hope this makes sense! This way your story shows a little more respect for the readers intellect, and invites them rather than forces them, which is always a great aspect of showing and not telling

What do you think?

Hey Elyse!
Thanks so much for the feedback
your comments definately make sense, and ill try and fix it up asap
yeah i agree with the sudden decision to go into the neighbourhood does seem a bit absurd
and the tattoo part i wasnt too happy with myself
one more thing - does this story bore the reader or is it interesting to read?
ps : if i fix it up and send it again does that require another 25 posts or?

[elysepopplewell]

Hey Elyse!
Thanks so much for the feedback
your comments definately make sense, and ill try and fix it up asap
yeah i agree with the sudden decision to go into the neighbourhood does seem a bit absurd
and the tattoo part i wasnt too happy with myself
one more thing - does this story bore the reader or is it interesting to read?
ps : if i fix it up and send it again does that require another 25 posts or?

Hey Daniya! No, it wasn't at all a bore to read, I was really intrigued by the action of it all. And the ending, like I said, was in fact very compelling! I really enjoyed it. If you want to fix up a particular paragraph and send it back alongside the original to say, "does this sound better?" I'll happily do that for you, but a full review again will mean 25 posts

[Daniyahasan]

Hey Daniya! No, it wasn't at all a bore to read, I was really intrigued by the action of it all. And the ending, like I said, was in fact very compelling! I really enjoyed it. If you want to fix up a particular paragraph and send it back alongside the original to say, "does this sound better?" I'll happily do that for you, but a full review again will mean 25 posts

ohh okay thanks Elyse, ill definatley come back for more feedback
thank you:)

[elysepopplewell]

Hi, could I possibly have feedback for my creative? I know I just asked in the paper 1 thread for feedback on that but my creative is more urgent atm so please ignore that (i defeated the post anyway)

Thank You!!

btw it is only a first draft sort of, because originally I wrote it as a screenplay but sort of ran into complications with getting that down under a time limit so I've adapted it to a fiction story. I'm going to attach both but I only want the story marked but if you had a tiny chance to take a look at the screenplay version and let me know what is strong/what isn't or if theres anything that stood out in the original one which I havn't been successful in including into my new draft that'd be GREAT!!!!!!!!

Also, I know you are swamped with marking but just so that I have a vague understanding, how long-ish will it be approximately to expect a response by?
Thanks!

Hey Georgia! Really interesting that you went from a screenplay to a short story. What made you switch? Unfortunately because your doc is in a PDF instead of a word doc, the formatting will look funny below, but I've referred to the PDF to see how it's supposed to sit 

Spoiler

Reminiscence
‘The caged bird sings
 with a fearful trill
 of things unknown
 but longed for still’
 - Maya Angelou I really like the starting with the quote. In the exam, don't be afraid to frame it to the side like this as well. The way words sit on the page can be a very powerful expression.
Rizak sits upright in the emptiness, his silhouette disrupting the room. The dream falls away, as
hands rub eyes, and gaze stares blankly into nothingness. The same dream, nightly, wrecked his
sleep.
He shuts his eyes in the darkness - can imagine it as clearly as the moon in the garden beyond the
shutters.
A small utility boat, drifting out of Tathra toward the open sea. Innumerable seagulls trail above
him, as he sits at the wheel with hands caked in the crust of age. In the dream, as it had been ten
years prior, his two kids fight over chips like bickering gulls, each one gleaming and eager. Vessels
as yet unmapped. He turns to absorb the cinematic expanse of sky - the whole world stretches
before him like an open palm. Inviting.
The dream leaks into the floorboard cracks. Fades like stained wine. Outside, the birds gather to the
call of dawn. Screeches and whirling merge with the sound of lapping waves. Rizak stands,
momentarily unsteady on feet that are caged by their own structure. Sturdy, yet uncompromising.
Blinds drawn, eyes squint to the points of pellucid horizon - and something old and buried awaits
him out there on the ocean.
The room is unkept. Dust-caked, haunted by bags of laundry cascading over chairs. Papers
fastidiously ordered in the bookshelf. And his mind, in the middle of the storm, a ship struggling to
hold anchor. I ADORE this!!!! Here we have: complete disorder of laundry, complete order of books, and then a very lost soul in the middle of it all. I think this is one of the best passages I've ever read from a HSC piece. I adore this.
The sky, a deep shade of wine-blue and bubbling with stars, hung over Rizak, drifting with the
energy of an etherised patient to the bird cage at the far edge of his garden. The birds flocked to him
with familiarity. Their eyes were wide as prawns’ for the grains and seeds griped tightly in his
closed palm. He throws the seeds to the birds with the agitation of a storm-tossed ship. Yet he stood
there, unconscious as a flower. The birds fight for the seeds like brothers fighting for a throne.
As his supply of seeds exhausted, Rizak’s absent expression hung to him like a dark, impenetrable
cloud. A pent-up storm, craving for outlet. While the birds mangled one another screeching like an
un-tuned viola, for the remnants of the last remaining seeds, wings and lone feathers tore to all
directions. Rizak’s heartbeat began to race. His spirit beating itself like a caged bird against its
prison bars in vain. And just like the moon which beacons the waves into a suffocating embrace, the
wild commotion of the birds pulled at Rizak like tides, dragging him into the uncharted oceans of
thought.
The waves drummed like a funeral march against the rocks. So large that they dwarfed the capsized
utility boat which road up and down the mighty swelling sea like a child’s toy. There was no mercy
in that dark November wind. No grace in her discordant waves. Only wrath and tempest.
Georgia Plantzos
“Inayaaaaaa!” a voice bellowed with the agony of a battle already lost. The morning would see his
children bobbing in placid water or else several leagues down with the fish. With an expression of
despair and plea, Rizak looked up at the matte black canvas, void of stars. The night returned his
gaze, as if in mockery for him believing that even a feather of hope remained. But Rizak saw that in
his unforgiving fish tank, gulls, innumerable gulls, tossed above him like paper in a storm. Flashes
of white against a black vacuum, tumbling in a struggle against the gale.
And birds had feathers.
Hope conducted the sea’s cacophonous symphony towards a gradual decrescendo. The atmosphere
eased into a requiem. A missa defunctorium. And here Rizak lay alone, as dawn broke out like a
bleeding wound. The imagery in this first sentence of this section is just, uh. You are a very, very talented writer Georgia.
The memory evaporated into the clouds. Colourless like salt. But to Rizak, the clouds resembled a
possible beauty as silver lasers seeped through the gaps. His heartbeat now easing back to an
andante tempo, Rizak took in the empty bird cage before him. Gazing at the cinematic expanse of
the horizon with the caution of a bigger, unsure whether to trust his eyes at seeing change left
behind on a desolate pavement. Rizak sees his birds drifting like leaves into the endless void. To
endless possibility.
Wander and awe swells across his face. Why had they never before tried to escape? After all, they
could fly anywhere. Then Rizak asked himself the same question. Unfortunately, I've read three creatives this year that have used this same structure: wondering why the birds don't fly away, and then asking themselves the same question. You've done it one of the most artful ways because it's embedded so thoroughly throughout, but I feel it's fair to warn you that I've read this before. A kinetic energy of potential
sparked somewhere deep inside of him. For the first time in years, Rizak regarded the ocean sheeted
before him for her calm serenity and not just her strength and unforgiving power. What if I spread
my wings? Rizak thought. Can I be released from this caging fear? This is what makes yours unique - that you continue to press into it deeper rather than just leaving the question in isolation.
Rizak closed his eyes just in time to feel the silver droplets which cascaded upon him as if the storm
had finally decided to weep with shame for what she had done to him. In that moment, he began to
understand.
Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass. It is about learning to dance in the rain. I don't love this bit. Everything you've written is fresh and original and so delicately graceful, but this is a quote I've seen on tumblr and instagram and so on, it's just too colloquial for the delicacy of your story, I believe. The analogy is well fitted in nature, but I think it could be better worded, can you think of an original analogy to replace this?
 ‘and his tune is heard
 on the distant hill
 for the caged bird
 sings of freedom.’

I think I really want to award this as the most delicate yet powerful piece I've read for a HSC AOS entry, possibly ever. I can see the benefit of the story over the screenplay, as you've been able to show such prowess with your writing skills here. It was like I was reading poetry the entire way through! I am struggling, very much struggling, to find places to critique. So I guess my main criticism is what I wrote at the end there - your writing is so authentic, but then at the end it just loses a tiny bit of magic when I read a quote I've read before, the dancing in the rain one. So I think that challenging the quote with new, original, brilliant language (as is in the rest of your story), could really improve the last taste of the story. You should be very proud and pleased with this.

As for the screenplay, I've never read or marked an AOS screenplay before. But, the appeal is that it is very well formatted and well written. The conceptual idea that holds your story together still exists strongly in the screenplay. I wonder if it would be worth pursuing the screenplay because of the originality that comes from the medium alone, but also as a way of standing out? I think your wonderful language will be a stand out anyway, but keen to know your reasoning behind the change?

[georgiia]

Hey Georgia! Really interesting that you went from a screenplay to a short story. What made you switch? Unfortunately because your doc is in a PDF instead of a word doc, the formatting will look funny below, but I've referred to the PDF to see how it's supposed to sit 

Spoiler

Reminiscence
‘The caged bird sings
 with a fearful trill
 of things unknown
 but longed for still’
 - Maya Angelou I really like the starting with the quote. In the exam, don't be afraid to frame it to the side like this as well. The way words sit on the page can be a very powerful expression.
Rizak sits upright in the emptiness, his silhouette disrupting the room. The dream falls away, as
hands rub eyes, and gaze stares blankly into nothingness. The same dream, nightly, wrecked his
sleep.
He shuts his eyes in the darkness - can imagine it as clearly as the moon in the garden beyond the
shutters.
A small utility boat, drifting out of Tathra toward the open sea. Innumerable seagulls trail above
him, as he sits at the wheel with hands caked in the crust of age. In the dream, as it had been ten
years prior, his two kids fight over chips like bickering gulls, each one gleaming and eager. Vessels
as yet unmapped. He turns to absorb the cinematic expanse of sky - the whole world stretches
before him like an open palm. Inviting.
The dream leaks into the floorboard cracks. Fades like stained wine. Outside, the birds gather to the
call of dawn. Screeches and whirling merge with the sound of lapping waves. Rizak stands,
momentarily unsteady on feet that are caged by their own structure. Sturdy, yet uncompromising.
Blinds drawn, eyes squint to the points of pellucid horizon - and something old and buried awaits
him out there on the ocean.
The room is unkept. Dust-caked, haunted by bags of laundry cascading over chairs. Papers
fastidiously ordered in the bookshelf. And his mind, in the middle of the storm, a ship struggling to
hold anchor. I ADORE this!!!! Here we have: complete disorder of laundry, complete order of books, and then a very lost soul in the middle of it all. I think this is one of the best passages I've ever read from a HSC piece. I adore this.
The sky, a deep shade of wine-blue and bubbling with stars, hung over Rizak, drifting with the
energy of an etherised patient to the bird cage at the far edge of his garden. The birds flocked to him
with familiarity. Their eyes were wide as prawns’ for the grains and seeds griped tightly in his
closed palm. He throws the seeds to the birds with the agitation of a storm-tossed ship. Yet he stood
there, unconscious as a flower. The birds fight for the seeds like brothers fighting for a throne.
As his supply of seeds exhausted, Rizak’s absent expression hung to him like a dark, impenetrable
cloud. A pent-up storm, craving for outlet. While the birds mangled one another screeching like an
un-tuned viola, for the remnants of the last remaining seeds, wings and lone feathers tore to all
directions. Rizak’s heartbeat began to race. His spirit beating itself like a caged bird against its
prison bars in vain. And just like the moon which beacons the waves into a suffocating embrace, the
wild commotion of the birds pulled at Rizak like tides, dragging him into the uncharted oceans of
thought.
The waves drummed like a funeral march against the rocks. So large that they dwarfed the capsized
utility boat which road up and down the mighty swelling sea like a child’s toy. There was no mercy
in that dark November wind. No grace in her discordant waves. Only wrath and tempest.
Georgia Plantzos
“Inayaaaaaa!” a voice bellowed with the agony of a battle already lost. The morning would see his
children bobbing in placid water or else several leagues down with the fish. With an expression of
despair and plea, Rizak looked up at the matte black canvas, void of stars. The night returned his
gaze, as if in mockery for him believing that even a feather of hope remained. But Rizak saw that in
his unforgiving fish tank, gulls, innumerable gulls, tossed above him like paper in a storm. Flashes
of white against a black vacuum, tumbling in a struggle against the gale.
And birds had feathers.
Hope conducted the sea’s cacophonous symphony towards a gradual decrescendo. The atmosphere
eased into a requiem. A missa defunctorium. And here Rizak lay alone, as dawn broke out like a
bleeding wound. The imagery in this first sentence of this section is just, uh. You are a very, very talented writer Georgia.
The memory evaporated into the clouds. Colourless like salt. But to Rizak, the clouds resembled a
possible beauty as silver lasers seeped through the gaps. His heartbeat now easing back to an
andante tempo, Rizak took in the empty bird cage before him. Gazing at the cinematic expanse of
the horizon with the caution of a bigger, unsure whether to trust his eyes at seeing change left
behind on a desolate pavement. Rizak sees his birds drifting like leaves into the endless void. To
endless possibility.
Wander and awe swells across his face. Why had they never before tried to escape? After all, they
could fly anywhere. Then Rizak asked himself the same question. Unfortunately, I've read three creatives this year that have used this same structure: wondering why the birds don't fly away, and then asking themselves the same question. You've done it one of the most artful ways because it's embedded so thoroughly throughout, but I feel it's fair to warn you that I've read this before. A kinetic energy of potential
sparked somewhere deep inside of him. For the first time in years, Rizak regarded the ocean sheeted
before him for her calm serenity and not just her strength and unforgiving power. What if I spread
my wings? Rizak thought. Can I be released from this caging fear? This is what makes yours unique - that you continue to press into it deeper rather than just leaving the question in isolation.
Rizak closed his eyes just in time to feel the silver droplets which cascaded upon him as if the storm
had finally decided to weep with shame for what she had done to him. In that moment, he began to
understand.
Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass. It is about learning to dance in the rain. I don't love this bit. Everything you've written is fresh and original and so delicately graceful, but this is a quote I've seen on tumblr and instagram and so on, it's just too colloquial for the delicacy of your story, I believe. The analogy is well fitted in nature, but I think it could be better worded, can you think of an original analogy to replace this?
 ‘and his tune is heard
 on the distant hill
 for the caged bird
 sings of freedom.’

I think I really want to award this as the most delicate yet powerful piece I've read for a HSC AOS entry, possibly ever. I can see the benefit of the story over the screenplay, as you've been able to show such prowess with your writing skills here. It was like I was reading poetry the entire way through! I am struggling, very much struggling, to find places to critique. So I guess my main criticism is what I wrote at the end there - your writing is so authentic, but then at the end it just loses a tiny bit of magic when I read a quote I've read before, the dancing in the rain one. So I think that challenging the quote with new, original, brilliant language (as is in the rest of your story), could really improve the last taste of the story. You should be very proud and pleased with this.

As for the screenplay, I've never read or marked an AOS screenplay before. But, the appeal is that it is very well formatted and well written. The conceptual idea that holds your story together still exists strongly in the screenplay. I wonder if it would be worth pursuing the screenplay because of the originality that comes from the medium alone, but also as a way of standing out? I think your wonderful language will be a stand out anyway, but keen to know your reasoning behind the change?

OH MY GOD YOU HAVE KNOW IDEA YOU JUST MADE MY WEEK!!!!!!
I have never EVER written a creative before and had positive feedback! (or any feedback besides 'work on strengthening it') Last assessment I got 13/20 for the screenplay which I had written but never got feedback and never got past a 2nd draft. I sent it to my teacher last week of the holidays and she only got back to me on sunday saying the screenplay was not a very good idea. So that's why I forced my self to make the switch and so today she responded to the version I've uploaded here with this:

"Please go through it and see how many similes etc you have - I think you need to edit them for the sake of clarity."

and then in class she said "we need to work on condensing it, but don't stress" or something along those lines so that left me feeling a bit less confident. I at least expected something positive?
So you have know idea how amazing coming h0ome to this feedback has been!!!!!!!! THANK YOU
Are you sure it's not simile/metaphor overload? Thats what she seemed to think. The reason you've seen the bird thing us probably because theres a creative with it floating around and because I have never written before nor have any interest in it, I thought why not use someone else Idea and build on it, so I guess that's why. Oooopsies :/
I completely understand what you're saying about the last part, I'll make a change to that.

My major question is what "types" of discovery stand out the most, like in rubric terms. Because I know my creative considerably well it's hard for me to judge. What should I really hone in on in terms of exaggerating so that It may fit a stimulus?
And do you think it's adaptable to most things they can chuck at me? I really, REALLY do not want to write another one.. Oh and what mark would you give it?

THANKS ELYSE YOU HAVE NOW IDEA HOW MUCH OF A CONFIDENCE BOOST YOU'VE GIVEN ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I actually cannot believe this