We've come a long way (and have a long way to go!), but I am sure that you all know more about what makes good writing already. Use this post to give us samples of work you've revised. Take it from anything we've done so far.
After your revision, provide us with some idea of what you changed, and why. Perhaps get rid of those "cursed" topic sentences or add descriptive details or remove the "telling" parts and replace them with showing?
See you on October 30!
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8 comments:
this is my revised work of lunch setting, i hope u like it...^^
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The smell of fried rice, kimchi, egg roll, and seaweed soup always filled the air of our classroom, and even to a hallway, it was a lunch time...
“Hey, move your head to see hers!” as she walked towards to our desks. Everyone is busy unlocking their lunch boxes’ latches, but not her. She always “attacked” a well-prepared lunches among other girls, and it was always my turn.
Other girls hated that,including me; when a brave girl asked her why, and all she said was, “That’s a fun of lunchtime, and besides you possibly can’t eat all that, and if you go home with so much leftovers, your mom won’t be happy...” with open mouthed—full of foods inside, and dripping the food.
One day, we decided to teach her a lesson that she will never forget. As always, she moved her seat carryng her chopsticks, and moving towards us. We all know the plan. The plan was that I put a pongy cream to my egg roll, and she ran off. I put the pongiest cream to my egg roll, and waited her to bite. It was like waiting a lion to trap, and it almost worked. When she was about to bite, someone called her name, and put the egg roll to MY FRIED RICE. While I was talking to my friends, I ATE THE EGG ROLL!
Hi Esther, It seems improved, but remember to tell us what kinds of changes you've made, too. It's important for you to be aware of what you are doing to improve the writing!
“Bradley! It’s a lovely day to go outside and play. I’ve made you a lunch. See you at dinnertime!” his Mom said as she turned back towards the banshee-like wails of his little baby sister.
Only nine, Brad was free to roam the south slope of Burnaby. He ran out the door and headed down the street towards his best friend’s house but soon veered into the unpaved back lane. He had some time on his hands.
A wooden fence rail looked inviting. Brad fished around in the pocket of his pants and retrieved his magnifying glass, the best present he’d received last Christmas. It was oblong and tucked into a false leather carrying case, burn marks twisted like dancing snakes on its dull brown surface. He looked around warily, then turned his back to the sun and started to work.
The sun beat down onto his neck, raising pinpricks of sweat. A point of light dazzled his eyes as he moved it in and out of focus onto the graying fence board. Soon, a wisp of smoke appeared and the wood began to blacken. Brad thought it smelled a lot like burnt toast, like the many burnt pieces made on the old double-hinged manual toaster his family used at the Okanagan cabin the previous summer.
He burned the first line, lips pursed in concentration, starting at the top and moving down to make the beginning of the letter “b.” If he held the point of light on one spot for too long, the wood burned too deeply, spoiling the effect.
Soon, his initials appeared: B.H. He looked down at his watch--time to head on down the lane to Ronnie’s rambling old house. Maybe they’d catch another mole or work on the fort they’d built high up in the branches of the cherry tree outside his best friend’s bedroom.
Ronnie’s mother stood in the entrance to the kitchen, wiping her hands on a well stained apron. “Would you like a Welsh cake, Bradley?” she asked, offering him one of her scrumptious currant-filled Welsh cakes. “Now, you two run off and play. I’ve got some more baking to do.”
Ronnie gave him a friendly nudge on the shoulder and off they went, heading for a forest trail that started behind the house, hoping to find a frog or two in the pond along the way.
—395 words
Revised to show, not tell. Many sensory details added. Removed passive sentences. Added dialogue for Ronnie’s mother. Added similes. Went from 328 words to 395, but stayed under the maximum word count.
Stir up a Nest of Hornets
“Chirp, chirp,” the cicadas sang the same song over and over, hiding in the dense leaves; “buzz, buzz,” two or three yellow hornets crooned also, hunting and patrolling around the backyard. Under the old walnut tree, a round-faced nine-year-old girl named YanYan was showing her new discovery to a boy at her same age.
“Where is it?” the boy with black hair and round eyes asked.
“There, under the eaves, near the red tile, see?”
“Wow, it is the biggest nest of hornets I have ever seen!”
“Yeah! I found it yesterday, but my mom warned me that they will sting me if I dare to stir it up.”
“Oh, really?” he paused.
“So, do you dare to do it?”
“Of course I dare to! I’m a boy!”
The girl went to the corner of the brick wall, picked up a long bamboo stick, and handed it to the boy. She couldn’t wait to see what would happen!
The boy started to sweat. He took the stick, reached to the nest, and stabbed it.
One… two… three...
A swarm of hornets flew out, buzzing around like a unit of air force. Immediately, they locked on the target and started to attack the boy with their sharp-pointed stings.
“Oh, my face! Oh, my leg!” the poor boy cried out, threw away the stick, and ran away like a rabbit.
YanYan crouched on the grass, and held her face in her hands. She got a creepy feeling.
“Is he going to die?” she thought.
Later of that day, the boy’s mom came and cried and complained in front of YanYan’s parents. When she left, YanYan was beaten by her father with a feather duster. It was a nightmare.
Three days later, YanYan met the boy at school, but he just passed her without a glance of recognition. His face and arms were still red and swollen here and there.
-326 words
Added the hornets’ sound as a part of setting; tried to get the feeling right. Removed “tell” sentences after dialogues. Changed two similes. Corrected many misspelled and misused words.
Hi Catherine: Especially effective to lose the telling after the dialogue. I think that hornets cannot "croon" as that is a sweet sound, like something one does with a baby to make it sleep. Excellent revision for your piece. Perhaps it's ready for the "Buzz"!!
“I bet you dare not.” Bob said this to Lily and everybody.
“Yes, I do. Come tomorrow to the bush outside and we’ll do it there.” Lily snapped.
“Okay, I’ll be more than happy to put you down,” said Bob.
Lily, the eleven-year-old girl, looked almost like a boy, coverd by curly, short hair. Bob was fourteen, the strongest and the oldest kid in the community and automatically the head of everyone, except Lily.
The second day after the dinner, Lily told mom she was going to Peggy’s house to do homework and mom agreed. Grabbing the wines hidden in her bag which she stole from her father’s collection, she reached the bush nearby her community.
Everybody was there, including Peggy, her best friend, looking at her and worried. “Did you call the ambulance to wait for you somewhere?” Bob teased her and grinned. All boys burst into laughter.
“I called them for you already.” Lily could hear the quiver in her own voice. She passed Bob one bottle of the wine.
“Did you bring the glasses?” Bob asked.
“Glasses for what? Toss it off.” Lily opened her own bottle. She saw Bob’s face turned pale and felt satisfied. For last whole year, this nasty Bob and his buddies baited all the girls in the community. They muttered and giggled whenever girls passed by. They called all girls “coward” and grabbed their hair when someone had a pony tail. Yesterday he said only boy could drink alcohol and girls could only drink pops which caused the bet.
The taste of the wine was terrible, it was bitter and spicy. Lily felt her throat was burning then followed by her stomach. She coughed badly with her tears coming out. She never drank before. She saw Bob’s face and knew he wouldn’t felt any better. Peggy just had a feeling wanted to cry.
After finishing the bottle, Lily felt her head doubled both in size and weight. She tried so hard to hold the urge of puke. “Lily, what’s the hell you are doing here?” A familiar voice appeared and a raged face with a bald-head. Dad was called by Peggy. “Are you drinking here? What? My Martell? 1965? Jesus!” Lily’s father found the empty bottles and turned like a bull at a gate. Meanwhile, Lily opened her mouth wanted to say something, and started vomiting.
390 words.
I didn't chance too much, just replaced several words and trimmed it to avoid common "mistakes".
John’s mom said,” Don’t come back too late. I will make dinner for you”
The little boy, who was enjoying his summer vacation, rushed out the door and darted into the street like a bird flies into the sky. Along the way, he wandered, and a peach tree in a backyard caught his eyes.
The backyard was a big garden which had a new fence with its own gate. John looked into the backyard. It was a big lot overgrown with brambles, honeysuckles, and wild roses. The roses were in full bloom, and the fragrance of the flowers saturated the air. The peach tree with the big juicy fruits looked inviting.
The gate was locked, so John had to over the fence. John thought to himself that he was so lucky without a dog in the backyard. Looking around carefully to see if anybody were watching, he started to work.
The wooden fence rail was twisted with crimson glory vines, hundreds of red blossoms showing against the dark shrubby growth. He climbed over the fence like a cat, and stepped into a rose bush. His ankles and lower legs were pricked by the rose thorns, but he concentrated on the inviting fruit without caring about that. He stayed silent, although his legs and feet hurt a lot.
Soon, he had climbed on the peach tree, starting to pick the fruits and putting the bigger one into his pocket. Taking several fruits, there was no room for more. The little boy took off his pants, knotting the pants legs to form a bag with double pipes like pantyhose.
As his “bag” was full, John thought to himself—today is going to be a great day. He threw the “bag” on his right shoulder and climbed down the tree to find a way out of the backyard. Trekking through the pricking roses with the naked legs, he climbed over the fence again.
John’s mother offered John a wonderful dinner. The little boy enjoyed the dinner, itched by the peach fuzz in his pants, chuckling to himself. What he thought was the next adventure in the backyard.
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correct some errors and make some words proper. too busy to revise more.
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