Writing exercises are a great way to both increase your skill as a writer and to generate new ideas for future work. They can also give you a new perspective on your current project. One of the great benefits of private writing exercises is that you can free yourself of fear and perfectionism. To grow as a writer, it is important to sometimes write without the expectation of publication. Don’t be afraid to be imperfect. That is what practice is for. What you write for any of these exercises may not be your best work, but it is practice for when you will need to write your best work.
Choose one of the following writing exercises and post it to the blog. Be sure (if you are not first) to respond to another post. Be respectful in your writing, as the blog is an extension of our classroom. Post by the end of school on Monday.
Choose one of the following writing exercises and post it to the blog. Be sure (if you are not first) to respond to another post. Be respectful in your writing, as the blog is an extension of our classroom. Post by the end of school on Monday.
- Pick ten people you know and write a one-sentence description for each of them.
- Record five minutes of a talk radio show. Write down the dialog and add narrative descriptions of the speakers and actions as if you were writing a scene.
- Write a 500-word biography of your life.
- Write your obituary. List all of your life’s accomplishments. You can write it as if you died today or fifty or more years in the future.
- Write a 300-word description of your bedroom.
- Write a fictional interview with yourself, an acquaintance, a famous figure or a fictional character. Do it in the style of an appropriate (or inappropriate) magazine or publication such as Time, People, Rolling Stone, Cosmopolitan, Seventeen or Maxim.
- Pick up a newspaper or supermarket tabloid. Scan the articles until you find one that interests you and use it as the basis for a scene or story.
- Keep a diary of a fictional character.
- Take a passage from a book, a favorite or a least favorite, and rewrite the passage in a different style such as noir, gothic romance, pulp fiction or horror story.
- Pick an author, one you like though not necessarily your favorite, and make a list of what you like about the way they write. Do this from memory first, without rereading their work. After you’ve made your list, reread some of their work and see if you missed anything or if your answers change. Analyze what elements of their writing style you can add to your own, and what elements you should not or cannot add. Remember that your writing style is your own, and that you should only try to think of ways to add to your own style. Never try to mimic someone else for more than an exercise or two.
- Take a piece of your writing that you have written in first person and rewrite it in third person, or vice-versa. You can also try this exercise changing tense, narrators, or other stylistic elements. Don’t do this with an entire book. Stick to shorter works. Once you commit to a style for a book, never look back or you will spend all of your time rewriting instead of writing.
- Try to identify your earliest childhood memory. Write down everything you can remember about it. Rewrite it as a scene. You may choose to do this from your current perspective or from the perspective you had at that age.
- Remember an old argument you had with another person. Write about the argument from the point of view of the other person. Remember that the idea is to see the argument from their perspective, no your own. This is an exercise in voice, not in proving yourself right or wrong.
- Write a 200-word description of a place. You can use any and all sensory descriptions but sight: you can describe what it feels like, sounds like, smells like and even tastes like. Try to write the description in such a way that people will not miss the visual details.
- Sit in a restaurant or a crowded area and write down the snippets of conversation you hear. Listen to the people around you — how they talk and what words they use. Once you have done this, you can practice finishing their conversations. Write your version of what comes next in the conversation. Match their style.
59 comments:
Hansol Lee
15 years
Died September 22, 2011
Hanover, New Hampshire
Cause of Death: Unknown
-Loves to Swim, Eat, and Play Videogames
-Receives Outstanding Grades
-Joined the National Junior Honor Society at the age of 13
-Made it to State Championships for the UVAC Swim Team
-Swim Team for Hanover High School
-Tennis Team for Hanover High School
-Collected all the Handheld Versions of the Pokemon Videogames
-Does not Drink Soda
-Fond of Studying When Bored
-Made it Down Concrete Stairs with a Bike
-Has never been Hospitalized or Broken any Bones
-Has never sworn in his Entire Life
-Survived 12 years with a Younger Brother
-Cooked his First Omelet at the age of 10
-Survived his First Year of Hanover, NH’s Winter
-Can Speak 2 Languages Fluently and was in the Process of Learning his 3rd
-Plays 4 Instruments
-Knows how to make Kimchi and Other Korean Dishes
-Is the Proud Owner of many Textbooks and Workbooks
-Leveled his Character to the Max in World of Warcraft
-Helped Homeless People by Preparing Them Food
-Found out What Seltzer was at the age of 14
-Reads many Different Kinds of Books
-Eats Multimineral Vitamins
-Carved a Bowl Out of Wood
-Enjoys Spending Time with Friends
-Grew Taller Than His Dad and Mom
-Always Tries His Best
-Had a Good Life
The earliest memory that I remember as a kid is a dream I had a long time ago when I was like five. It’s now funny but at the time it was frightening. We were outside of my house in Lebanon. It was an average day weather wise. I was sitting on my dad’s shoulders and we were walking along the street. My Dad didn’t seem like himself that day, for some reason he was grumpy and his voice sounded gruff. We were nearing a stop sign just before the four-way intersection in the road, the road I knew so well as a kid. Then something happened. My Dad disappeared and I appeared on the ground with one of those large inflated bouncing balls that you sit on and bounce around on was underneath me. Back then I knew them as bouncy bounces. All of the sudden a huge tyrannosaurus rex was behind me and in hot pursuit. I started to bounce away from the beast like a mad man! The monstrous thumps of the T-Rex’s tree trunk sized feet pounded the earth behind me. I wasn’t going fast enough, and the monster was catching up. Panic filled my body; I was going to be eaten! The animal let loose a huge roar and the dream ended.
Hansol, I really enjoyed reading you obituary. It was creative and tied in a lot of person information that was interesting to read.Good job
Max
My bedroom is my favorite room in my house. It is my place to be alone and a place of peace and quiet. With tall ceilings and wood floors my bedroom seems much bigger than it is. What used to be white walls are coated with various, strange murals painted by the previous owner when she was in high school. Now that she is in her 60's I feel bad painting over them. A pink tapestry covers the far wall next to a large window and small door leading to the attic. The room is bright in the day, with two sky lights on a angled ceiling wall. A large white dresser with shelves on either side line one wall while my bed is on the other. A large pink, comfy chair stands next to my bed with stuff constantly piled on top. There is a small corner that holds my mirror and big-enough closet. There isn't a color you wont find in my room and nothing matches. With floral sheets, a polka dotted comforter, butterfly curtains, and three blue lanterns hanging from the ceiling. The attic door is covered with five, small, circular mirrors. Pictures also mask the door along with two bulletin boards scattered with more. I have no overhead lights, only lamps that give the room a cozy feel. Next to my bed I have shelves with built-in speakers that hold more pictures, and trophies from past years. Two laundry baskets overflow with clothes 24/7 while more are hanging out of my drawers. My initials in blue and orange wooden letters are nailed to the wall over my tapestry, threatening to fall on my head at any given point.Even though my room is a decent size, there is about twenty square feet of clear floor. I stuff as much as I possibly can into it on a daily basis. This room is my personality put into paint, furniture and decoration.
Hansol, I enjoyed reading your obituary and the experiences you've had growing up. The whole idea of writing my own obituary creeped me out, so I am very impressed that you were able to write yours. It gave unknown information that's interesting to read about. Great job!
Dad-a very tall and balding man, he has taught me a lot on taking responsibility and becoming a man.
Mom- she is a bit over protective, but I love her very much, she always when something is wrong and she bakes amazing cakes.
Sister-She is very smart,and sometimes uses that power against me, but she cares about me and I love her very much.
Arthur(Cat)-He is a very fat and lazy cat who I love very much, he wakes my up for school and he comforts me when I am sad.
Papa Vito(Grandfather)- I look up to him very much, I grew up playing with him in the park and listening to his storys for his years as a naval captain.
Grandma Caroline-She is a very loving grandmother who cares a lot about what I am doing, and always greets me with "oh you must be hungery come inside".
Nick- A very good friend of mine, he lives in England, and we constantly try to dis each others countrys.
Alex- I have know him since 3rd grade, he is a very good friend of mine, we have had a lot of good times.
Michael- My cousin, we are very close, and have a lot of good memorys of pranks we did on our sisters.
Cheif Ryan-He is a counciler at a a camp I go to, he doesn't like tak]ing the easy way out, and if he wants something done, he wants it done right.
I feel the warm breeze as it picks up pace and whips my hair against my face. The air has a musty, yet crisp smell, as it always does before the first spring rain. The sweet smell of the blooming Rhododendron begins to fill the air, mixing with the smell of the sunscreen I wear. I hear the distant shrieking of a hawk as it dives for its prey. A wild pony approaches with the sound of crunching gravel under her feet. She whinnies and I hear the sound of her tail flicking away the buzzing flies. I reach out and pet her thick, wet, wooly fur. My throat feels scratchy from the dander and pollen in the air. I feel the branches from the spruce trees all around me brush against my face and the minty taste of sap fills up my mouth. I can hear the jingle of the tags on my dogs’ collars as they zip past me. The sun beats down onto my shoulders and head, making my whole body warm up instantly and the smell of my sunscreen even stronger. As I continue to walk, I feel the gravel tumble down the path as I push off with my back foot and continue the climb to the top of Mount Rogers.
Sumner,I really like your description of your bedroom. I can really visualize what it looks like. I think you did a really good job with your details. I really like your last line about how your room is a reflection of your personality. Good job!
I walk out from the shadow of the trees and instantly feel the sun warming my back. The tall, overgrown grass reaches up and tickles my legs. The slow, gentle breeze rustles the leaves and sends ripples through the grass. It brushes the hair out of my face as I continue. I can smell the dead trees decomposing on the side of the meadow but it is masked by the sweet smell of flowers that represent new life. Clover and honey-suckle blooming in every corner, their fragrance filling the air like fresh cookies coming out of the oven. Underneath that the smell of the newly mown path gives the spring air a grassy scent. I hear the brook that forms the edge of the meadow flow as it twists and turns its way to the Connecticut. Sharp, piercing bird calls come from high up in the trees. Shortly thereafter, I hear it again as if to answer the first. Cheerful chirping is also present as a walk further down the path. The bees are active as well and buzz from one flower to the next. All this comes together to create a peaceful morning in the meadow behind my house, calm and placid but very alive.
Childhood memory
The air is warm, and heavy. It feels like lying down under a pile of blankets in your bed, but you’re not there, are you? You’re in the middle of a thick, pine forest. Slivers of moonlight, broken by tattered branches and threadbare leaves illuminate the darkness. Small glowing embers in the middle of the fire pit hiss and pop, as if they were alive, and angry. You are sitting on a sodden log, with equally drenched leaves at your feet. From there, you can smell the fire’s burnt aroma, even though all that is left is the hazy smoke, which climbs further upward toward the murky sky. From inside the worn camping tent, you can hear the labored breathing of your father. Goosebumps arise on your arms and neck as a faint breeze cools the air. It sounds like a whisper echoing through the trees. You are tired, you feel your eyelids grow heavier, and your shoulders slouch. You sit with your head in your hands and remember the day, the neon canoes gliding through the glasslike water, the mushy pasta under burnt tomato sauce, and the smiling faces of your family. As you get up, ignoring your complaining leg muscles, you smile, because you just had a great day.
Araya,
I like reading your entry. It was very descriptive and you used the senses you could use very effectively. I could really picture it even though I haven't been there.
Araya- the discriptions you chose to write about do a very good job helping the reader experience what you experienced. i found your story both well written, but also extremely interesting.
My bedroom is on the bottom floor of my house. It is in the bottom right corner of my house and was meant to be a computer room or office but I am using it as my room. It is where I keep all of my belongings and spend a lot of my time when I am at home. My bed is in the farthest corner from the doorway and my desk is on the left of my bed. I have a bookshelf to the left of the desk and a fireplace to the right of my bed. I have two windows in my room one is on the left wall and one is on the right wall. They are great during the day because the let in all the light and help wake me up in the morning. My floor is wooden and I do not have a rug. The floor is a bright brown color and has a wood finish. My door to my room is right next to the door that leads to the basement. My room is next to my Mother’s room and under my Sister’s room. The lights in my room are very weak so my room is a bad place to be at night unless I am sleeping since it is very dark in the room. I do not have a TV in my room. My room is also right next to the kitchen which is very useful because if I have to get up at night to get a drink or food I wont have to walk all the way through my house or down stairs. My room is also near a bathroom so that is also very beneficial so that is I have to use the bathroom during the night I don’t have to walk very far.
Hansol,
I like your obituary very much. You but a lot of aspects into it and I enjoyed reading it. I also like how your cause of death was "Unknown"
good job
My room is upstairs and to the left. Guarded by a waist-high gate so any four-legged family members are unwelcome. Upon entering the room, you’ll be greeted by a big soft bed. To the left of it is a nightstand and to the right is my dresser; filled with more clothes than it can hold. The walls are blue and tall and the ceiling is slanted. A skylight gazes down from above as well as a rickety fan. One wall is almost entirely covered by a large house shaped window that lets the light flow in. Various things that are special to me now cover the others. One wall is covered by drawings I made of Courage The Cowardly Dog and a Hockey Jersey. Another is home to a Bob Marley Painting and a Beatles article cut out of an old newspaper. The last wall has a replica of Can Gogh’s Irises painting. It also has a mantle with a collection of empty Mountain-Dew bottles. A shelf in my room has books, movies, and CD’s. Atop the shelf is a Master-Chief Head and other video game related items. In the corner of the room is a desk with pen’s pencils and a desktop calendar. Next to the desk is a set of speakers that boasts enough volume to rattle the room. A thick light blue carpet indented with footprints and claw marks from my intruding dogs covers the floor. My closet is filled with all kinds of sweatshirts and hats hanging on cluttered coat hangers. It is also home to my guitars and whatever else I can’t fit in the main part of the room. My room is one of my favorite places to be because I feel that it’s unique and private. Whenever I need time to relax or just hang out my room is the place I go.
Hansol, your obituary was extremely fun to read. I think it made us all learn something new about you. By the way I love Kimchi. Wish I knew how to make it.
My favorite place in the world is Sebago Lake State Park in Sebago Maine. One of my favorite things about that place is the smell of it. Whenever we drive there once a year, the smells of campfires, bacon, and the lake remind me of all the memories I have there with all my cousins, aunts and uncles, and friends. There is a big rock there that you can jump off of into a crystal clear lake, friends with boats and tubes, and beautiful tree-lined old streets that are perfect for teaching kids to ride two-wheelers on. Another one of my favorite and memorable parts about Sebago are the nightly campfires. When all my relatives are at the campfire, we all enjoy the delicious marshmallows that we make s’mores out of. My favorite campfire snacks are golden-brown crescent rolls with butter, cinnamon, and sugar. Around the campfire, we all share memorable stories from our regular lives and past years camping.
Every morning, we all head down to the beach, where we stay all day, and then pack up at the end of the day. Some days the kids bike to the candy store, which is paradise. After we get back, my uncle Robbie takes everybody out for a wild tubing ride.
Sebago is my favorite place in the world, and I am always looking forward to returning every year for another ten days of technology-free escape.
Araya,
Your description of Mount Rogers was really fun to read. There was so much sensory detail, and I liked how you only put the name of the place at the end. Good job!
Name: Aditya Natarajan
Gender: Male
Ethnicity: Indo-American
Age: 14
Birthplace: Colombia, South Carolina
Died September 25, 2011
Cause of Death: Unknown
-was a vegetarian
-had an older sister
-had 2 loving parents
-loves badminton
-does not have a middle name
-was in the 10th grade
-joined school a year early
-birthday was october 10th
-was a hindu
-was in all high honors classes
-had a 3.97 GPA
-enjoys Indian food
-speaks an Indian language
-was learning another Indian language
-was vice-president of the Indian club
-can count to 20 in 8 different languages
-enjoys playing many different sports but does not play any for the school
-was a black belt in tae kwon doe
-got 3rd in the grade during the badminton tournament
-broke 5 bones
-broke the same bone twice in 3 months
-enjoys rap, classic rock, and some classical
-had seen many bollywood movies
-ate when he was bored
-loved his life
I get out of the car in Cape Cod at Race point beach. The hot air hits me as I feel the change from the cool air-conditioned car to a hot summer day on the beach. I can feel a slight breeze on my face and I feel my beach towel hitting my legs as I walk. Walking in my blue crocs I feel the sand fly up and hit the back of my legs. The sound of crashing waves and people at the beach is all around me. I drop my towel and kick off my crocs so I am ready to swim. The walk down to the water is hot as the rough granular sand burns to bottom of my feet and the broken shells jab me. The pungent smell of salt water gets stronger and stronger the closer I get to the ocean. The first step into the ocean water is shockingly cold but as I wade in the water and wrap my feet around the cold sand, I get used to it. When I feel ready I plunge into the refreshing blue ocean water and swim until I can’t hold my breath any longer. I come up and can taste a bit of salty ocean water in my mouth.
Aditya- I loved reading your obituary. I learned a lot of new stuff about you! The facts you included were pretty random but very funny and interesting.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.
However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering the neighborhood, this truth is so well fixed in the hungry minds of the surrounding families that he is considered the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.
“My dear Mr. Bennet, “whispered his lady to him one dark and stormy night, “have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?”
Mr. Bennet replied from his darkened corner that he had not.
“Oh, but it is,” returned his timid wife, desperately seeking her aloof and mysterious husband’s approval. “Mrs. Long has just been here, seeking shelter from the storm, and she told me of it.”
No reply emerged from her husband’s shadowed chair.
“Do you not want to know who has taken it?” cried his wife desperately.
“You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it,” was her husband’s cryptic response.
“Well then my dear, Mrs. Long says that Netherfield is taken by a young man of a large and ill-gotten fortune. He had been living in a gloomy castle to the North until Monday when he arrived at midnight in a black carriage drawn by four remarkably ill-tempered horses. He brought all his own servants with him though no one has seen any of them. The only reason anyone knows that he is here at all is that Old Man Lucas saw the carriage illuminated by lightning on that fateful night. ”
“What is his name?”
“Bingley.”
“Do you not know what this means?”
“Why yes, my dear, to be sure! A single man of large fortune; four of five thousand a
year. What a fine thing for our girls!”
“You and your ignorant ideas have disappointed me yet again. Never again mention this to me or to the girls. This Bingley fellow could bring about our ruin!”
“But how, I don’t understand!”
“There are many things you do not understand. I will take care of this Bingley business. Fetch my coat.”
Ignoring his wife’s pleas for forgiveness, Mr. Bennet strode out into the storm, his dark cloak swirling about him.
Kendra-
Your description of Cape Cod was so vivid I could really feel what it was like to be there. It made me think of the beach in Rhode Island I go to every summer. Good job!
Dad-Short, brown-haired man who has taught me to work hard and take responsibility for my actions.
Mom- A short,graying woman who loves her family and enjoys playing Pac-man.
Liz-My kind and caring sister who was Valedictorian at HHS and attends Colgate University.
Frank Alosa- My plump,exuberant AAU basketball coach who screams a lot and talks excessively.
Ari- My lanky cousin with a magnificent eye for drawing.
Lauren- My short, tan, chubby cousin from South Carolina who has the deepest southern accent I know.
Aunt Sally- My witty, dog-loving, skiing aunt who lives in the stunning town of Telluride, Colorado in the Rocky Mts.
Aunt Haydee- My short, one-eared aunt who is an intelligent english teacher in inner city Denver.
Uncle Tommy- My humorous, big, white-haired uncle who has a large bushy beard.
Jordan Williams- The most intimidating person I know due to his 6'4" ebony frame and his extremely toned muscles.
Ben-
I love the description in your paragraph. The ability of yours in using personification really caught my interest.
Dad- Short, balding, Italian, and the Boston College grad who loves his kids very much always attending all athletic events my brother and I are in.
Mom- Born in germany she is strong willed and very opinionated, sometimes to much.
Daniel- My brother who always find time to give me a hard time. I have always looked up to him and he means a lot to me even though we may have our conflicts.
Will Doolin- One of my teammates at Uconn basketball camp, my point guard and my friend Will is one of the most down to earth people you will ever meet.
Uncle Joey- Not really my uncle but a close family friend, always looking for someone to golf with or play tennis with.
Aunt Diane- My moms best friend from college who we consider a part of the family. She loves dogs and has a laid back attitude making her always fun to hang out with.
Jaguar- A short chubby African American who thinks he is a NBA player in his head. He has never told me his name but is always the one I enjoy playing basketball with most at the dartmouth gym because of his great sense of humor, gave me the nickname "15".
Ross Mcgee- My 8th grade assistant to the assistant basketball coach who really just showed up to joke around and have a good time. The funniest 21 year old I have ever met still living with his parents.
Bruce Hudson- My step grandfather who taught me right from wrong, I have always called him my grandfather seeing as I never met my actual one.
Gilder- My friends, sisters boyfriend who is always telling us stories of college parties he went to leaving out no details, scaring our minds forever.
John,
I love how you described everyone, it really gave me a good picture of what each individual person looked like, great job.
My bedroom is upstairs on the left and the second biggest one in my house. As you first enter a large, plush dog bed lies a top a big blue carpet. If you turn your head to the left my big, inviting bed greets you. The walls are painted in a soft blue hue and several photographs and paintings hang. One of my dog, Chance, hangs front and center, directly above my bed. To the right of the picture of my dog and on the other side of my closet door is an enlarged graphic of the famous Obama Hope poster. On the leftmost wall in my room hangs an old photograph my Dad took of his two former dogs Clarabelle and Tinkerbell. And on the opposing wall is the New York City skyline. My room is typically cluttered with all types of things such as clothes, textbooks and CDs. To the left of my bed sits my TV with a jumble of wires coming out of my Xbox below. A nightstand on the right side is cluttered with loose change and my headphones. My desk where I keep my laptop has papers and books scattered across it. If you’re sitting in my bed and look straight ahead you’ll see a shelf. Inside that shelf there are numerous snow globes and building replicas from all the places in the world I’ve been. And on either side of the huge shelf are two windows looking out the changing leaves and quiet street below. The endless drone from my fan creates a white noise that distracts me from the clangs and clatters in the kitchen below me. In the winter this sound is replaced by the moans and groans of my humongous radiator attempting to keep the house at a reasonable temperature. Even though my room might be a little bit quirky, it’s mine and I love it.
Erich-
I really liked the descriptions of your family members. It painted a really vivid picture of your entire family. Nice work.
Dan- My brother, and also one of my best friends, shortest of the three brothers, loves to film and now lives in California.
Matt- My oldest brother, who just graduated college, who is doing as much as he can to get started with his life.
Dad- A hardworking, successful man, dedicating his life to putting his three kids through whatever school they want to do.
Mom- Animal lover, not very tall, and fits in literally anywhere you put her.
Ike (dog)- Most importantly, BIG, fluffy, and he may chew everything in the house but he’s still one of everyone’s favorite dog.
Frank- One of the cleverest person I’ve ever met and getting funnier every day.
Roseanne- Short, funny woman, has so many funny sayings, and is where my Mom gets her traits of fitting in.
Marcus- He was my best friend as a kid, when I saw him again this summer, he had changed a lot, but he was still a fun person to hang out with, like when we were kids.
Scott- He is my uncle and one of the most interesting person I know, and just moved to Hawai’i and loves to scuba dive.
Dave- He was a miracle to live through his birth and, he and Memere (Roseanne) are the closest relatives to me of all.
Ben-
I loved the description of your room and, after knowing what your room looks like, it's interesting to see what it's like in written form.
A waft of pure sugary delight overwhelms my senses as I practically taste Grandma’s famous snicker doodles baking in an oven that seems almost as old as she is. I press my nose into the clouded dirty window, watching them attentively as they puff up and turn a delectable shade of golden brown. I lick my lips at the thought of sinking my teeth into one of those warm, heavenly cookies with the red and green sugar on top...
“Eleanor! The cookies will be ready soon, now get out of the kitchen!”
I droop my head in shame, sheepishly making my way back into the living room. I quickly forget my naughty act, my straight cut bangs and striped dress bouncing along as I skip to the tree. Ah yes, the tree. I stare up at its sheer majesty, liquid gold ornaments dangling from its deep forest green needles and rich earthy scent. The tree itself couldn’t be any more magical, but the presents beneath it are what really catch my juvenile eyes. I run my toddler-sized fingers over an abundance of boxes in all shapes and sizes, each one smoothly wrapped with an array of decorative paper. I feel like a miniature doll compared to the vast number of presents; it’s like a dream. My attention span is short lived and I answer to my cousins calling my name from downstairs. I innocently skip down to the basement, not a care in the world. My feet pad across the rug and I stare at old pictures of my mom, aunts, uncles, and my grandparents. The basement brings a world of joy, filled with memories of playing with plastic food and dolls. Later I go outside, the frozen winter air nipping at my rosy cheeks as I build a snowman with my cousins. I hear my aunts and uncles singing songs around the piano that only the holiday season could bring as dinner roasts in the oven. Nothing screams Christmas more than family.
Mom - She is very brave, she fought cancer and is now fine. She always works hard and is inspiration in many ways.
Rob - My step dad is the director of Cover Home Repair, I admire the sense of community and helping others that his job obtains. He enjoys camping and paddling.
Dad - He is incredibly smart, and always get things done on time, he is conscious about the environment. He loves being outdoors and enjoys engineering.
Patti - My step mom is a natural with a paintbrush. She loves animals, and can communicate very well with dogs.
Meryl - My sister is in her senior year at HHS. She very frequently volunteers at High Horses, and is going to college for special education. She is passionate and friendly.
Eleanor - My step sister is incredibly smart, shy, and artistic. Her talents are naturally shown in her everyday activities. She enjoys singing and drawing, and excels in both.
Bergren - My other step sister is always outside, barefoot. She loves the feeling of the earth beneath her. We have many inside jokes that we laugh about a lot.
Nate - My step brother is an amazing photographer, and his skill on the guitar can keep me entertained for hours, we like to figure out the notes in songs on our free time.
Hazel - With her thick scottish accent, she cheers me up any day. She has great style and always can relate to what someone is going through. She was a very big part of my live when I was little until her moved back to Scotland when I was 10.
Grandma - She still has an incredible amount of spunk. She loves to travel and has been to every continent at least once. Her enthusiasm and humor is what i look forward to everytime we go to visit.
ethan-
I really enjoyed your description of Sabago Lake State. I like how you associated it with so many memories and used a lot of great description!
Henry -
I could really visualize your room, i could hear the sounds and see the snow globes. I really liked all the adjectives you used to describe colors and placement!
Nice Job!
Everyday after I get home from school, I find the afternoon sunlight shining through my bedroom windows on the west side of our house. On warmer days they are open I can hear the birds chirping and look out to see my brothers kicking soccer balls in the yard. My dresser is across from the window, with a few of its drawers typically left open because I was in to much of a rush to close them. Next to the dresser is my bed that belonged to my grandmother. My name is sewn into a pink rectangular piece of fabric hanging above my bed that my mom made for me when I was young. The color of the sheets always matches the blue on the walls and the white on the moldings. Across from my bed a few feet away is a chair I never sit in, and instead stack things on top that I am too lazy to actually put away. On the wall above the chair is medal display given to me by my coach. Each medal is carefully labeled so I know exactly when and what I won, and not a day goes by that I don’t think it might fall down. Across from the chair is my bookshelf, filled to the top with magazines and photo albums. There is a tiny nook next to the bookshelf that my grandpa made me a desk for to fit perfectly. It is painted white and the walls around it are painted brown, matching the color of all the other furniture. It is always cluttered, and whenever I have the chance to clean it, it will become messy by the next day. In the middle of the floor sits my gym bag I never put away because I know I will need it the next day. The rest of the floor is spotless until I came home from school and spread all my books out across it.
Nathalie,
I loved reading your interpretation of that scene. I really enjoyed that book too, and your paragraph helped me imagine the scene in a different way.
One author that I really enjoy is Peter Nathaniel Malae. I believe that the only novel he has written is called "What We Are". His style is full of dialogue and insight. He uses the characters to express life how it really is, not the perfect world sometimes portrayed in books. He seems to embrace the not as glamorous sides of life, and the interactions between characters show this. He mixes in what is currently happening with flashbacks that give the reader a better understanding of what is going on in the mind of the character.
I don't use very much dialogue in my writing, and I would like to follow the example set by Peter Nathaniel Malae and use more of it. I would also like to throw in flashbacks and not always do everything in chronological order. When relevant I would like to mix in more of the darker parts of life into my writing, but not the with the frequency he does. It made some of the book much to dark.
Jonathan-
I really enjoyed reading your descriptions. Images were put into my head with vivid detail, and I found the people easy to picture
My earliest childhood memory is of water. When you are a little kid you usually have to learn the hard way why somethings are bad. For me, this was the case for everything. As a small hold, my family used to go to a local swim and tennis club on cape cod where we stayed every summer. When I was first introduces to the big span of transparent neon blue full of big kids jumping around and yelling I knew what ever this was it had to be awesome. I spent most of that summer in the shallow end. One day though, there was none to watch me in the shallow end so my dad took me into the deep end with him and some of his adult friends. As they talked, I ignored them focusing only on the endlessly deep water that I seemed to so effortlessly stay on top of in my dads arms. As he spoke words that had no meaning to me to a bunch of blurred faces, I began to slip out of his assuring grip. He didn't notice at all but I had slipped right threw his arms.
My comfortable feeling of safety in my fathers arms at the surface quickly turned to panic as I sank like a stone toward the course could bottom of the pool. After my head dipped under, I became blind, if I tried to open my eyes they would burn. I didn't dare open my mouth for fear of the bitter tasting cool water filling my entire body. My chest compressed more and more with each moment that I spent at the bottom of the pool. The temptation to breathe was too great, I knew that what I would be filled with if I was to breath would only make my situation worse. I felt oblivion setting in, this was surely the end of me. I would never feel the warm sun on my body again or take one last breath of cool clear air that would bring me to peace. I felt my brain compressing and my face swelling, my eyes were ready to explode it was all over. I felt a vice like grip latch onto my torso and pull me from my watery grave. I breeched the surface with my dad's arms holding me tightly and I gasped for air like I had never taking a breathe before. My dad looked at me calmly and said, "don't you know you can't swim yet bear, don't go anywhere without me. What felt like an eternity for me must have only been a split second for him. I was so angry with him for just forgetting about me but I had no idea how to express my rage so I just yelled at him to get me out of the pool and I sat and watched everyone else for the rest of the day.
My room is up two sets of stairs and in the attic. It is finished with creamy orange walls and tan carpet. It is the biggest room in the house and I have no way to fill all the space. The walls are angled down in some places making it impossible to walk without hitting your head. Pieces of mismatched furniture decorate the room. My grandma’s puke green bed and dresser with an array of flowers displayed on it seems to be the only matching items. My room always looks clean but only because the mess is spread all around it. Laundry is thrown about in a morning rush and it drapes down from my dresser. There is a square wall that my bed sits against. It is where the fireplace from down stairs makes its way out of the house. Hidden behind it is my desk. My desk is my sacred place. It may look like a mess to most but everything is where I put it so if anyone moves anything, It could easily prevent me getting something accomplished. Above my desk on a shelf, sits my trophies and pictures of teams. Behind on the wall is a window that allows little prayer flags to blow in the wind. Back in front of the wall there are two sets of identical windows. There is a circular window then four rectangular windows below. They allow my room to always be bright. Especially early in the morning when the sun is rises and practically blinds me. Despite my anger at the sun peaking through every morning, my room is very special to me. It is my quiet and peaceful space where I can retreat to after a tough day.
Chris- I like your descriptions of the people in your life. I know most of them, but not as well as you and your descriptions made me see them the same way you do.
Annalee- I like the way you started your piece and the descriptions were very detailed
fictional diary
day 2
we are on the brink of war. I can feel it drawing nearer and I can hear the drums. They moved all of us inside the castle walls this morning to keep us safe. My little brothers were so excited, they've never been inside a building so big before and never been so close to the knights and fighters. But I'm not excited. Among all the chaos I was able to slip off to look over the wall. I saw that not far off the sky had turned black, stained by smoke from fires that consumed fields and houses. In the distance I could see a black mass swarming towards us. Then one of the guards saw me and ordered me back with the other peasants.
day 3
We woke to shouting. I heard one of the men say that they would be here today or tomorrow. The smoke is thicker and the sky has grown dark. I don't dare go back up on the wall today and the in the small patch of sky that I can see there are birds circling. The castles people are tense, I can feel it. Men sit around tending to horses and weapons trying to prepare for the battle to come.
day 4
The storm has arrived. This morning my mother shook me awake roughly and shoved my littlest brother into my arms and pushed me in the direction of the cellar. In the dark damp cellar we could hear the battle going on above, the shouts and clang of steel. At one point there was a huge crash as the gates of castle gave way and then they were in the courtyard. At first my brothers had clamored to up and see the action but when a bleeding man stumbled in and died at our feet they fell silent. After what seemed to be hours the screams died down. Suddenly there was a crack of splintering wood and light poured in. A dark figure loomed up in front of us and then roughly pulled us out. The courtyard stank of death and blood and smoke. Fires were burning and the walls were stained with the blood of the guards. A dead horse lay a few feet away, flies already collecting on it's eyes. Human bodies were also strewn around. Some had fallen off the wall and lay broken in the dust while others slumped on the wall, pierced with arrows. There were very few peasants left, all of us children. We were forced to watch as the royal household was dragged out of hiding and executed. Last to die was the queen, prince, princess, and king. When they were done our attackers hung the kings head above the gate which raised a cheer from those still outside the walls. They yelled at us in a language I didn't understand then marched us out of the gates. I covered my brothers' eyes when I spotted the body of our mother slumped in the entry way, her dressed stained red. As they lead us out and tied us in a line all I could wander was what would become of us?
emily-
i like how descriptive you were about the set up of your room. it made it easy to create a mental image of it. your writing style also made it very clear that your room and especially your desk are special peaceful places for you
I felt the warm air envelop me, and my numbed nose began to tingle at once with the sudden blast of heat. My ears were greeted by a buzz of excited conversation, with rambunctious shouts, boisterous giggles, and high-pitched squeals surrounding me. I heard small snippets of conversations about math homework, yesterday’s recess, and somebody’s secret crush. My nostrils were invaded by the pungent stench of far too many bodies in much too small of a space. I heard the click of my Mary Janes then felt the textured leather seat sink under me just in time for a sudden jolt forward. A loud, deep rumble added to the sound of squabbling kids, and I felt my feet vibrating underneath me. I felt cold, wet condensation meet my finger, then my entire hand, touching the smooth, shiny surface. Then, the nauseating stench of vomit took over my senses and I felt the moisture press against my entire arm, saturating my sleeve. I felt my eyes begin to water and felt my hand clasped over my nose and mouth. A pained groan from somewhere beside me met my ears, along with shouts of disgust. When I finally heard the sound of the door screeching open, I welcomed the scent of fresh cut grass and morning dew; anything was better than the reeking odor of last night’s lasagna with a garnish of lucky charms.
Teddy -
I liked the way your introduction made me wonder what was going to happen, and your description of when you were at the bottom of the pool had really great detail. The ending seemed a little bit abrupt, so you could include a sentence or two about if the experience made you scared of water, when you learned to swim, or when you forgave your dad.
One time, I was in this competition, to see who can build the best robot or something. I was one of the team's major builders, and I had the mechanical stuff down pretty good.We had the things running rings around the tracks and the other machines. We'd built this thing, we did the best we could, and all of a sudden the thing stops working. It was unbelievable! All the hard work we'd put into this, and none of the guys on my team had a clue what was going wrong with it. We kept looking, taking things apart and hoping we were putting 'em back together the right way, but we couldn't find a thing.
Well, a while later, there was this one guy who kept looking our sadly busted machine. He was a programmer on our team, which meant he was in charge of putting the brain in and telling' the thing how to do its steps, rather than putting together the bits and pieces into something that could actually do them. Now, this guy kept looking back and forth between his little boxes on the computer and a piece'a crap that should work but didn't. He kept doin' that, until we were all ready to call it a day, and then two gears must have meshed in that guy's head. He sat there still as a statue for a split second, then his hands started flicking back and forth between his computer and the 'bot, and he started talkin' a mile a minute about something he'd missed.
He managed to fix our machine, and it ran better than before on the last round. Gotta admit, I kinda thought that none of us could fix that thing, but he just went ahead and did it anyway. I guess that's why it was a team, so that anything that even just one guy can do could help us all.
Claire,
Your exercise is full of great descriptions
that allowed me to picture just what was going
on. I liked the way the story worked, and how
you described the reactions of the other people.
-James
Rocco Linehan likes to play soccer and ultimate Frisbee and he lives on a farm.
Daniel Hazlett’s main obsession is soccer, lives in Norwich Vermont but is from Ethiopia.
Brendan Barth is a soccer and tennis extraordinaire, doesn’t let his small stature get in his way.
Sam Carey plays soccer, hockey, and baseball, went to Sunday school yesterday.
Duncan Piper, a red headed goal-keeper, enjoys hanging out with friends.
Tomas LaPorta has parents from Argentina, visits whenever he can, and plays soccer and tennis.
Worthy Gardener’s passion is lacrosse, but he also enjoys shooting and editing movies.
Brendan Rhim loves to ride his bike, and goes to races throughout New England, also plays soccer on the side.
Benjamin Herndon-Miller main sport is baseball, he’s on honor student who always like being with friends.
Jordan Levin plays hockey and baseball, stopped playing soccer last year because he wasn’t good at it.
noah, you did a good job of describing what aspects of Peter Nathaniel Malae writing that you like. I think that adding those new writing techniques to your repertoire would make any essay you write become a lot more interesting for the readers
I am aware of the one that put on a helmet and pads, only to scream on the sidelines.
I am associated with the one that sings his heart out, regardless of the social condition of which he is in.
I'm close with the one who hated the restrictions of their academic situation so much that she worked hard enough to escape it.
I spend time with the social outcast with the overly expressive face.
I live under an incredibly strong household, thanks to the man who payed for it.
I look to the previously mentioned man's dad for wisdom and inspiration.
I am not sure why I pay attention the the complainer; the one who needed to pick up their head years ago.
I enjoy collaborating with the musician; the one who shares interest in my passions.
I plainly feel that the innovator has been unappreciated by the masses; the one who confidently speaks in broken English.
I can't explain my own personality. I am the blank sheet of paper, who allows those around me to truly define who I am.
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Claire, your post demonstrated excellent use of descriptors, especially in the intro. It was captivating, which is what a piece of writing should do.
Erich- Wiry gangling frame, his warm green eyes and wide toothy grin make it difficult to take him seriously as he jokes sarcastically.
Becky- Hunched over her homework, her wolfy mane covers her face, as she feverishly scribbles in a a faint fony, her complicated and unreadable homework answers
Ms.Gielich- Eyes fixed unblinkingly at her computer screen, her lips curled down into a surpressed frown, she looks asleep with her eyes wide open as she sits eerily at the front of the room
Mason- Freckles pepper her pale face, when her face suddenly turns a rougey red as our eyes awkwardly meet and she looks away, and she stares back down at her blank torn paper pretending to read.
Christian- Legs jiggle at a fast steady pace, eyes darting around the room, and his long fingers intertwine around his pencil; He begins to write his essay.
Maxie- Hair messily thrown up into a bun on the very top of her round head, her sickeningly sweet scent makes me take a step back, and I watch as she jumps up and leaves the room without a backward glance.
Nick- "What's ten to the third?" He asks, his face scrunched in a confused grimace, and his large eyes wide and alert
Ms.Bernet- "I'm a woman of MYSTERY!" she bellowed to the room at large, as she excitedly canters to the nearest table and pulls out a calculator to assist the next needy student.
molly,
I thought your descriptions were very descriptive and also quite amusing and humourous. Keep up the good work.
mazel tov,
Aditya
At the top of a winding two-story staircase, sits my “L” shaped room that seems to wrap around the stairs and hallway. Upon entering my room, a wild obstacle course of clothes covers the carpeted floor yet an empty clothesbasket sits dormant in one corner. My bed remains in the alcove on the left that has a white puffy comforter on the top garnished with a lone red pillow. Directly next to the bed sits a small table with my alarm clock that’s numbers glow a florescent blue. Below the table lie a pile of electrical cords, coins, hairbands, and random letters that I have forgotten to return to my parents from school. On the other side of the bed is an old dark wood cabinet filled to the brim with old board games from when I was young. Across from the bed rests a large futon covered by a large black beanbag chair where I sit and listen to music when I am bored. Adjacent to the futon rests my old beaten dresser. The drawers creak open after I force them open. It is toped with unwanted trinkets and old gifts that I have never used such a wristwatch or a random hat. Next to the door sits an old Sony TV that rarely gets used except for the occasional Wii tennis. My room is full of interesting object but the best things about my room are my walls. I was inspired to paint my walls so I got many bright paints and decided to mess around with splatter paint. First, the entire alcove around my bed I painted an onyx black and splashed vibrant greens, blues, reds, oranges, and yellows on to the dark walls. The result is a starry feel of colors bursting that encompasses me when I sleep and lights up because of the clock’s black light. Across the room behind my dresser is another attractive wall. Instead of color, this wall is a checkerboard of black and white with the opposite splattered in it. It makes me think when I look at it. Finally, a large zigzag pattern lives on a third wall. The zigzags are all splattered in multiple colors but can be clearly differentiated resulting in a chaotic mash of colors that can be separated by a second look.
My room is a place when I go when I’m bored or tired. I don’t live in my room whenever I’m home but it the place that I will always feel comfortable and welcome in.
Aditya -
Your obituary was fun and interesting to read. I was surprised that some of your topics were so important to you. It didnt really seem to be event you were proud of.
But overall it was good. It could use some more descriptive words to help enhance each one of your points
mom- The person who taught me how to be a polite person.
dad- the person who taught me how to be a man as much as he taught me how to throw a baseball
brian- my best friend who i have known since 4 who has always been there for me.
andy- brian's younger brother and the person who i am proud to have known since i was 4 years old.
happy- my sweet loyal sled dog who has always been there for me whenever i was sick or well.
vel- our sweet tempered fat little cat who has an old lady personality.
mable- our sweet sublime cat who would always be rubbing up against my leg without being a pest.
bailey- our skittish cat who even though would run at eye contact, he would also be that sweet little cat who would come up purring on your lap.
karen- not only the mother of my 2 closest friends brian and andy, but the person who has always been like my second mother.
grandma- my grandma has always been the caring person who has always been an amazing listener in my life whenever i have been in stressful situations.
Mary-
I think your descriptions are very concrete and detailed, but I think you should include a little more about what they meant to you.
Mary-
You make an excellent point about how much thought is put into written language versus spoken language. The example of the email-typing really proved your point. You could have added other examples, but the piece works well overall.
James
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