Hopeless at creative writing (2 Viewers)

[guypineapple]

I'm not really good at creative writing, or English. Just wondering if anyone can give me any suggestions on how to improve my introduction.
(My complete story is episodic)


His body trembled, as he trampled through the marshes. Lifeless figures gazed up from their hollowed faces. His body trembled as he trudged towards base, lanky guerrilla lurked though the shadows. A shot was fired!
* *
The days that they saw themselves as belonging to the land appeared to be long gone. The peaceful safe environment they lived in for 40000 years appeared to be lost. He was torn between two worlds; belong to the land as his ancestors had for 40000 years, or to blend in, to the white society. It couldn’t be that bad could it?

 

[Jeee]

Tip uno:
Read.

Truly and honestly.
Happy reading.

 

[ashleighjade]

Ahem. Where to begin? Well, to start with.. FEEL FREE TO IGNORE ME. My English teacher tells me I have "natural writing ability", but that didn't stop me from getting 8/15 for trials. Hm. Mind, it was an idea plucked out of mid-air with 15 minutes to spare so take that as you want it.

In all honesty? Your "intro" lacked direction, sophistication, purpose, integrity. Basically everything. Sorry, but honestly, if you continue writing in that style I predict, maybe, a band 4? :S

First, however, the episodic idea? Not so sure about that. I really believe that you would not have the time in an exam, unless you are an exceptionally talented student, to write in this form. Your ideas would be under-developed and just, yeah. Hmm.

Secondly, you'd probably be best to focus on one aspect of belonging or not belonging and expand upon that? You'd want a very strong story to back this up. You want your idea to be clear, but you do not necessarily want to have to say it in so many ways.

HOWEVER, I have to warn you, your first idea (which, by the way, signified to me warfare) would be easier to discuss, and would be more dramatic - easier to draw the attention of the reader.. ;P

So, okay, once you've chosen a concept (do that immediately and stick to it), choose a persona and a situation that best emphasises your concept. [Ie: warfare - a soldier has just lost his best friend/brother/etc - connection to person - can be very dramatic if you include this friends death in the scene/flashback memories.. anything to emphasise your CONCEPT. Also you can end it very clearly and succinctly without killing off your own character - wayyy over done.]

Once you've chosen all these details; research! Force yourself into the mindset of your persona (character)! Become them! If you connect to your persona, your readers will too. Also, you might want to research writing techniques/etc - as they are, yours are.. ordinary..?

INTRODUCTION
Introduce your concept gradually. Begin with describing what is around you (ie, your character) - stylise with words for DETAIL. Do not completely introduce your character, let that come gradually through your story. Be bold and descriptive in your introduction! The first lines of a story are much like the first half hour of a movie, if you fail to connect/relate you are going to grow bored, lose concentration and then the movies over before you know it and you don't remember a damn thing.

If you really feel you are not that good at creative writing I would have to recommend choosing an experience from your own life (or two), emphasise it and write about it as yourself. Many people write in the first person like this and as long as your concept and characterisation are strong the markers will not mark you down.

Yes, writing from personal experience is both easy and popular for those who are not confident in their ability as a bull-shit artist, I mean, creative writer.

Few Tips:
Do NOT be OVER-dramatic.
Do NOT write about "emo" teenage angst issues.
CONSULT YOUR TEACHER FOR MORE IDEAS. Best advice I have ever received, ever. Saved my English education as we know it. Hamlet? Yeah. Bitch. >:[
Be concise and to the point, but be detailed. In other words, don't waffle. Fill your lines with crap AFTER you've fully developed your concept, the worst thing that can happen is running out of time without fully explaining your concept! O.O
Use your language forms upppp! Left, right and centre. Similes, personification, meaphors, onomatopeia, foreshadowing, flashbacks, symbolism, hyperboles, jargon, imagery, alliteration, assonance, allusion.. YOU NAME IT! Just be appropriate.
Always keep your audience and purpose in mind and write to them. It's best to write to a wide audience. Teens and Young Adults? Whatever. Whoever will relate most effectively to what you want to SAY.

And, finally, just write like it's the last thing you'll ever do. [In my case, for AOS, it will be. Bahahahaha. ]

Hope this has been, um, helpful? :S
Sorry if I complicated matters for you. I got really into it.. :O

This time next week no more ENGLISH!

HELLS YESSSSSS!

Good luck.

 

[Aerath]

This time next week no more ENGLISH!

Screw you all....[Extension English]

 

[chingyloke]

Screw you all....[Extension English]

I feel you brother. It's the one I'm most scared of. So many texts...only an hour.

 

[niloony]

Don't forget there might not be a short story in the exam...so practise thinking on the spot as well! =O

 

[tku336]

There's always been a short story, in both extension and AOS, hasn't there?

Well, not a short story, but a "any text type" question. It's the essays they play around with.

 

[Absolutezero]

Rather than write episodically, if you want something still different, you might want to try a circular narrative structure. It can be easier to remain focused on direction, especially if you have trouble with creative writing.

As for your introduction, I think its too obvious. You need to be more subtle with your intentions. Instead of it being creative, it seems more like an overview of the story you intend to write.

 

[00iCon]

Typically masculine response, guns/violence, lol.

 

[Book Freak]

I feel the pain, mine's about a potato. Seriously.

Elaboration!!! It's the DEATH of 4 potatoes, but! I don't tell you their potatoes until the END of the story!!! So it sounds reeeeeeaaaaaaly gory and disgusting when it's just mashed potatoes, chips and baked potatoes. I put in so much 'loving detail' that no student could get the whole way through it.

 

[00iCon]

I feel the pain, mine's about a potato. Seriously.

Elaboration!!! It's the DEATH of 4 potatoes, but! I don't tell you their potatoes until the END of the story!!! So it sounds reeeeeeaaaaaaly gory and disgusting when it's just mashed potatoes, chips and baked potatoes. I put in so much 'loving detail' that no student could get the whole way through it.

How is that belonging? maybe u should go do food tech...

 

[Book Freak]

I spend about a paragraph about how the protagonist lost the only place he belonged when he lost his family and the creatures (us) destroyed his home.

 

[m1tch37]

I feel the pain, mine's about a potato. Seriously.

Elaboration!!! It's the DEATH of 4 potatoes, but! I don't tell you their potatoes until the END of the story!!! So it sounds reeeeeeaaaaaaly gory and disgusting when it's just mashed potatoes, chips and baked potatoes. I put in so much 'loving detail' that no student could get the whole way through it.

Ahaha wow! I wish i could write a story that amazing. Mine's only about melons.

 

[guypineapple]

This is the story I used for section II paper I
I only called the person ‘Y’ because I haven’t made a name yet for him




His body trembled, as he trampled through the marshes. Lifeless figures gazed up from their hollowed faces. His body trembled as he trudged towards base, lanky guerrilla lurked though the shadows. A shot was fired!
* *
The days that they saw themselves as belonging to the land appeared to be long gone. The peaceful safe environment they lived in for 40000 years appeared to be lost. He was torn between two worlds; belong to the land as his ancestors had for 40000 years, or to blend in, to the white society. It couldn’t be that bad could it?
* *
Y could remember Yangir, his leathery skin, deep furrows, but most of all his stories, which could capture the entire mind. He told stories which had been passed down by generation and tell how happy his people were until the boatpeople arrived. They were content with belonging to the land, as they believed if they would treat it with respect; it would provide them with food and water, shelter and warmth and all the other necessities. The land did not care who you were, what tribe you came from, just as long as you treated it with respect.

Yangir told them of his own sad story of what the boatpeople had done when they arrived, they claimed the land, saying it was theirs. They didn’t believe that people belonged to the land, they believed man owned it, it was a commodity. He told them of how they didn’t let him and his tribe to seek comfort in the land, how they made his people worship images, and dress like the boatpeople. They forced them to abandon their traditions and rituals, and wouldn’t even let them speak their own language. They called it ‘assimilation’, and saw us as ‘diluting’ their culture.
* *
Y was now fighting with them, against the Japanese, uncertain if he was fighting to protect the land, or to fit in, to the white people’s society. Could these people really be that bad?
* *
Beside him stood Biggie, a white stocky man of about 30 something, he seemed to be fine, we had been fighting alongside each other since the beginning of the war, he wasn’t sure if all the boatpeople descendants were as bad as Yangir had told him. Biggie had saved his life already before, especially as the Japanese had been gaining territory forcing the Australian troops to retreat, and Biggie still remained by his side. Their only chance of their survival is if they continued to look after each other.

* *
Sunset was fast approaching when the Y, Biggie and the Australian troops set up camp for the night, when Biggie said he saw something in the distance. Fear began to run throughout the camp being prepared for an onslaught, although the corporal decided it was a false alarm, with no movement of sound being heard from above.
Pale moon light filtered through the dense canopy up ahead, when a loose stone rolled down from the mountain top, near where Y and Biggie were standing silencing the chirping crickets. Believing it was another Australian troop, they thought nothing of it and decided to get some much needed rest.
Falling asleep was a harder task than most would imagine, with only a few staying awake, Biggie had decided to stay awake, this was lucky for Y, he had only just woke him up when a shot was fired, Biggie pushed Y down, the bullet narrowly missing him. The Battalion replied with shots of fire in the direction the bullet came from.

Slithers of moonlight peaked through the dense canopy hitting the forest floor, the silence was deafening. Crouched down, Y and Biggie hid from the enemy. They had managed to separate them from the rest of their battalion. If they were to survive, they would have to remain deathly still, at least until the sun rose, when the Battalion would come searching for them.
An unfamiliar scent wafted through the dense trees. A stick snapped.
Biggies eyes glistened. Sweat rolled off the nose of Y. It appeared to be safe further north, back towards the battalion. Y turned back, Biggie was nowhere to be seen. A scent of blood, pierced Y’s nostrils. No! This couldn’t be happening.
The past few months had resulted in their friendship becoming stronger and now he could be dead. Another stick snapped.

* *
A wave of fear swept over the 37th Battalion, the Japanese were appearing to gain the upper hand, as they inched closer towards Port Morseby and two of their fellow men were nowhere to be seen. The commander decided he and a few fellow troops were to go search for them, hopefully finding them alive.
* *
Y lay under a rotting log, his heart thudding faster with every sound that he heard. He lay contemplating the loss of Biggie, if only he had kept more of an eye out for him, he may have been able to save him.
A whispering could be heard from above. “Oi mate, don’t think there out ere ay, let’s go that way”.
Y whispered back, “Hey over here”.
He was relieved to see them, as the sunlight penetrated through the dense canopy.
“It’s , It’s all over”, the corporal croaked.
“What’s all over”, breathed Y.
“The war, they surrendered.”
The journey back to the base was long and tiring, both physically and mentally for Y, he lost the person who he was most connected with. Yangir had been wrong, not all of the boat people were harsh and untrustworthy.
* *
On return to Port Morseby, Y looked at himself though a cracked antique mirror, lines of dried blood were visible from a gash to his forehead.
He peered back into the antique mirror. A smiling thirty something year old stocky man peered back.


I used ideas from this to create a 500-600 word story for uni since I'am doing Bachelor of Education (Primary)

The Anzac Dream​

My body trembled, as I trampled through the marshes. Lifeless figures gazed up from their hollowed faces. My body trembled as I trudged towards base, lanky guerrilla lurking though the shadows. A shot was fired!

I have a dream, an aspiration they may say, that is to make it out alive from here. I want to see my family, and so does my mate. Beside me stood Tyler, a white stocky man of about thirty something. We had been fighting alongside each other since the beginning of the war.

Sunset was fast approaching, because of this Tyler, the Australian troops and myself set up camp for the night, when Tyler thought he saw something in the distance. Fear began to run throughout the camp being prepared for an onslaught, although the Corporal decided it was a false alarm, with no movement of sound being heard from above.

Pale moonlight filtered through the dense canopy up ahead. A loose stone rolled down from the mountaintop, near where Tyler and I were standing, silencing the chirping crickets. Believing it was another Australian troop. We thought nothing of it and decided to get some much needed rest.
Falling asleep was a harder task than most would imagine, with only a few staying awake. Tyler had decided to stay awake, which was lucky for me. He had only just woke me up when a shot was fired. Tyler quickly shoved me to the right, the bullet narrowly missing, colliding with a tree. The Battalion swiftly replied with shots of fire in the
direction the bullet came from.
Slithers of moonlight peaked through the dense canopy hitting the forest floor, the silence was deafening. Crouched down, Tyler and I silently hid from the enemy. They had managed to separate us from the rest of our battalion. If we were to survive, we would have to remain deathly still, at least until the sun rose, when the 37th Battalion would come searching for us.

An unfamiliar scent wafted through the dense trees. A stick snapped. Tyler’s eyes glistened. Sweat rolled off my nose. It appeared to be safe further north, back towards the battalion. I turned back, Tyler was nowhere to be seen. A scent of blood pierced my nostrils. No! This couldn’t be happening, he couldn’t be dead, could he?
The past few months had resulted in our friendship becoming stronger, and now he could be dead. Another stick snapped.

Under a rotting log, my heart thudded faster with every sound that I heard, I lay contemplating the loss of Tyler, if only I had kept more of an eye out for him, I may have been able to save him.
Whispering could be heard from above.
“Oi mate, don’t think there out ere ay, let’s go that way”.
“Hey over here”, I whispered back relieved to see the troops, as the sunlight penetrated through the dense canopy.
“It’s, it’s all over”, the corporal croaked.
“What’s all over”, I breathed.
“The war, they reluctantly surrendered.”
The journey back to the base was long and tiring, both physically and mentally because of the knee deep mud that was pulling at my legs,
also I had just lost my best mate.
On return to Port Moresby, I looked at myself though a cracked antique mirror, lines of dried blood were visible from a gash to my forehead. I peered back into the antique mirror. A smiling thirty something year old white stocky man peered back.

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