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English discovery creative!

(1/1)

Seanclair:
Hi! I was wondering If i could have my creative piece quickly looked at? Thankyou so much for doing what you do - always appreciated.

(Yet to think of a title)

Open to the scorching mediterranean sun, he stands where two narrow alleyways meet, and open up to the cobblestone, corner cafes, water fountains and busy mums that characterise the town square.
Leo slumps off his backpack, weighing a tonne, filled with miscellaneous objects poking into the lining like a sack of potatoes, and a french dictionary wedged into one of it’s pockets. Paired with his strawberry blonde locks, kept off his face with a makeshift bandana, and lanky legs, it was a look typical for a backpacker, but foreign to the olived skinned ladies and belly-heavy men sat from the safeguard of their chosen lunchtime destination.

He approaches a popular restaurant it seems. Red and white tables, and a delectable scent of local cuisine drifting on the dry air. Quintessential Europe, he thought. Truffles lined across a stone slab, venison browned and sliced, linguine twisted and twirled in sauce.
He slumps off his backpack rather noisily. A faint murmur of conversation, and birds that jet across the town, fill his silence as he reads up on local attractions and must-have experiences from a travel guide.

A man with a meticulously tweaked moustache waltzes over to his table, and speaks out in some tongue that he cannot understand.
“Hello…?” offers Leo, trying his luck.
“Bonjour” the man replies.
At least you tried, thinks Leo.
He creases his brows, and narrows his search to the menu du jour. Frantically searching the pamphlet, desperate for something other than the local dialect. Panick.
The man motions towards Leo, speaking unfamiliar words.
He pushes back in his seat, glancing side to side, seeing the residents looking up from their newspapers, and over their artisan spectacles. They pass vitriolic remarks and chuckle from the cusp of their wine glass like the devils in disguise he felt they were at that moment.

… Leo sits on his bed, still, gazing out of his small sash window into the vineyards and roads drawn onto the earth, not quite joining up from hill to hill, but he felt like he knew they shared the same path. He thought of the borders he had passed (usually illegally), planes he had caught excitedly and bags he had packed nervously. Smiling at his rucksack, rather, daydreaming, his attention was caught by that dictionary, that had been planted in the pocket of a loose zip. He grabbed it’s tattered and crinkled spine like prey and opened it to page 1. Dashing between the pages, leaping from noun to pronoun to conjunction to adverb, his heart was beating out of his chest. As the sunlight cast a dim purple onto the pages, he lay his head back onto his pillow and stared out his window with a blazing fire within him, and a brain teeming with fresh vocabulary.

Opening the sash window to a stream of warm, wheaty air that tickles his nostrils, Leo feels the pleasant warmth of the morning sun caress his skin. The daffodil on his window sill smiles at him.

He strides down the dark foyer of the apartment, and pushes the door open with assertion. The sleepy cobblestone alleyways are busy with morning sprite and energy. He merges into the river of men, women and children, walking, wicker-basket in hand, towards the gravity of fresh weekly produce and goods.
Weaving in and out of the crowds, dodging large bouquets and fresh piles of sourdough stacked like pebbles, lavender tied at the waist, kilos of local olives bobbing in their sweet oil. Two podgy men barter over a punnet of strawberries, like two hippos in mating season, bellowing bestial tones and spasming their arms to the sounds that run off their lips. The church bell chimes over the cobblestoned town square that is transformed into a maze of fresh produce and eagle-eyed locals every Sunday.

The language feels foreign, but there is a romance in their noise. Something attractive that invites Leo to try out his own as he approaches a man behind a striped umbrella and a stack of attractive fruit.
“Bonjour” Leo offers.
The farmer replies.
He scans an array of plump tomatoes, figs and oranges.
His lips open and voice a choreography of phrases the farmer seems to comprehend. Like bags of gold, the farmer hands over half a kilo of juicy, golden figs - locally grown.
The two men smile, and bade each other goodbye; a fair deal.

He finds a quiet, verdant spot, overlooking the stone houses that skirt the provincial hillside. Leaning against a tree trunk, he pulls out his dictionary and opens to ‘F’.
Searching with his index, he comes across 'fig' in italics.
Noun. A soft pear-shaped fruit...
The translation reads “figue”, and he chuckles over the simplicity
Thinking little of it, he grins and bites into the juicy fruit, indulging in it’s delightful nectar.

Opengangs:
Hey, Seanclair!

Sure thing! Also, sorry it's taken a while (I've been suuuuper busy :D). The creative with comments are inside the spoiler tag.

CreativeOpen to the scorching mediterranean sun, he stands where two narrow alleyways meet, and open up to the cobblestone, corner cafes, water fountains and busy mums that characterise the town square.
Leo slumps off his backpack, weighing a tonne, filled with miscellaneous objects poking into the lining like a sack of potatoes, (Kinda redundant don't you reckon; otherwise take out the "weighing a tonne" as it's unnecessary for the plot) and a french dictionary wedged into one of it’s pockets. Paired with his strawberry blonde locks, kept off his face with a makeshift bandana, and lanky legs, it was a look typical for a backpacker, but foreign to the olived skinned ladies and belly-heavy men sat from the safeguard of their chosen lunchtime destination. (Your opening paragraph, while setting the mood, is also a good chance for you to introduce the discovery concept that will be vital for the rest of the story. A typical band 6 creative will usually start with a discovery concept in their opening paragraphs, and then for the rest of the story, explore the significance and impact of this discovery on your character)

He approaches a popular restaurant it seems. (Good chance for you to show that it's popular and not tell us it's popular.) Red and white tables, and a delectable scent of local cuisine drifting on the dry air. Quintessential Europe, he thought. Truffles lined across a stone slab, venison browned and sliced, linguine twisted and twirled in sauce.
He slumps off his backpack rather noisily. A faint murmur of conversation, and birds that jet across the town, fill his silence as he reads up on local attractions and must-have experiences from a travel guide.(I'm still not seeing the discovery concept that strongly. Make it explicit, or make the subtlety stronger!)

A man with a meticulously tweaked moustache waltzes over to his table, and speaks out in some tongue that he cannot understand.
“Hello…?” offers Leo, trying his luck.
“Bonjour” the man replies.
At least you tried, thinks Leo.
He creases his brows, and narrows his search to the menu du jour. Frantically searching the pamphlet, desperate for something other than the local dialect. Panick. (Nice! I like your sentence control. Effective!)
The man motions towards Leo, speaking unfamiliar words.
He pushes back in his seat, glancing side to side, seeing the residents looking up from their newspapers, and over their artisan spectacles. They pass vitriolic remarks and chuckle from the cusp of their wine glass like the devils in disguise he felt they were at that moment. (A bit too much telling and not enough showing I feeel. Balance the two out more effectively because as of now, you're too direct.)

… Leo sits on his bed, still, gazing out of his small sash window into the vineyards and roads drawn onto the earth, not quite joining up from hill to hill, but he felt like he knew they shared the same path. (A bit long and a bit too direct again.) He thought of the borders he had passed (usually illegally), planes he had caught excitedly and bags he had packed nervously. Smiling at his rucksack, rather, daydreaming, his attention was caught by that dictionary, that had been planted in the pocket of a loose zip. He grabbed it’s tattered and crinkled spine like prey and opened it to page 1. Dashing between the pages, leaping from noun to pronoun to conjunction to adverb, his heart was beating out of his chest. As the sunlight cast a dim purple onto the pages, he lay (You're mixing between past and present tense; stick to one tense for the story) his head back onto his pillow and stared out his window with a blazing fire within him, and a brain teeming with fresh vocabulary.

Opening the sash window to a stream of warm, wheaty air that tickles his nostrils, Leo feels the pleasant warmth of the morning sun caress his skin. The daffodil on his window sill smiles at him. (I'm not sensing a strong reader relationship with Leo, just a small nitpick.)

He strides down the dark foyer of the apartment, and pushes the door open with assertion. The sleepy cobblestone alleyways are busy with morning sprite and energy. (I love this imagery!) He merges into the river of men, women and children, walking, wicker-basket in hand, towards the gravity of fresh weekly produce and goods.
Weaving in and out of the crowds, (Repetitive) dodging large bouquets and fresh piles of sourdough stacked like pebbles, lavender tied at the waist, kilos of local olives bobbing in their sweet oil. (Not a complete sentence; be careful with this!) Two podgy men barter over a punnet of strawberries, like two hippos in mating season, bellowing bestial tones and spasming (Not the best word but it'll suffice their arms to the sounds that run off their lips. The church bell chimes over the cobblestoned (Repetitive) town square that is transformed into a maze of fresh produce and eagle-eyed locals every Sunday.

The language feels foreign, but there is a romance in their noise. Something attractive that invites Leo to try out his own as he approaches a man behind a striped umbrella and a stack of attractive fruit.
“Bonjour” Leo offers.
The farmer replies.
He scans an array of plump tomatoes, figs and oranges.
His lips open and voice a choreography of phrases the farmer seems to comprehend. Like bags of gold, the farmer hands over half a kilo of juicy, golden figs - locally grown.
The two men smile, and bade each other goodbye; a fair deal.

He finds a quiet, verdant spot, overlooking the stone houses that skirt the provincial hillside. Leaning against a tree trunk, he pulls out his dictionary and opens to ‘F’.
Searching with his index, he comes across 'fig' in italics.
Noun. A soft pear-shaped fruit...
The translation reads “figue”, and he chuckles over the simplicity
Thinking little of it, he grins and bites into the juicy fruit, indulging in it’s delightful nectar.
Mark: 8/15
General feedback:
Overall, I'm not sensing a strong connection to the discovery concept. I mean, it's there but it's way too subtle to pick up the first time reading it. Remember that in the HSC, you get two markers for creative writing (they each have 3-4 minutes per response) so make sure your concept of discovery is strong at the start and then the impact of it follows throughout the whole story.

You're also being a little bit too direct in terms of description. You use a lot of visual and olfactory but the other three senses aren't particularly strong. Use the five senses throughout the piece to immerse the reader into the world of your imagination. Describe exactly what the characters are feeling at that very moment. Make us feel like we're connected with the character. If you need inspiration for your creative writing, see this website: Descriptionari. It's honestly a life saver.

Relating to the point above, I'm not given a strong character profile of Leo; I'm still struggling to place an age and description of what he looks like and his relationship with the world around him. Make sure your character profile is strong, and there is some sort of transformation. It doesn't have to be physical; it can be a mental, emotional, creative, intellectual or even spiritual growth. As long as there is some sort of growth, your creative will become more immersive than it already is and it will tick the "discovery" concept very well.

You're also switching between past and present tense, so it sometimes makes it very difficult to place a timeline. I hope you're aware of this because it may be more of a subconscious thing rather than your flair of writing.

What to do next:
Go back to the rubric and pick the syllabus by concept. Mark out all of the discovery ideas that are currently present in your creative, highlight those you think you can integrate into your creative, and mark a cross next to those you have no idea. Place close attention to the highlighted and the crossed discoveries, and begin to write a second draft surrounding those discoveries. After much thought, do you believe you can pull it off in the half yearly with the current creative?

Work on making the discovery concept more explicit. Show some character development happening midway through the story so your discovery concept isn't just placed suddenly at the end. Have your character struggle with something at the start, and by the end of it all, accomplish or overcome this struggle. Your creative doesn't have to be situated in the real world; it can be purely internal.

Work on your character development. Make sure your character is feasible in real life, and that we can empathise with him. Make the reader feel like the reader by playing with all five senses: visual (sight), olfactory (smell), gustatory (taste), kinesthetic (feel), and auditory (hear).

Good luck with the upcoming half-yearlies!

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