Need some Advice!
So today I'm going to ask for a little advice. Last week, we were asked to do a piece of writing, and we have to read it out tomorrow. Needless to say, I'm very nervous about this, so I thought I would see what you all think of it. Any constructive criticism you may have is greatly appreciated!
The task was to rewrite an extract from Charles Dickens' biography, about a train crash he was in. We had to 'make it interesting' and move it away from realism.
Here's my rewrite, let me know what you think!
She watched the train meandering through the countryside, the sense of anticipation building inside her. She would never tire of the feelings of excitement she experienced before every incident. After all, the disasters she created inspired her name; Chaos.
She moved further up the track, finally locating the flagman who was supposed to be signalling any trains that came along. She used her powers to confuse him, moving him along the track so that it would be too late when the engineer eventually saw him. Chaos smiled; it was always so easy to manipulate humans.
The excitement swelled within her as the train reached the gap in the line, and all hell broke loose. She had chosen an excellent location for the crash; the scene was beautiful to her. Carriages littered the area; the last few had stopped on the bridge, but others had run right off onto the bank beneath. A couple of carriages were smashed beyond recognition, and the rest upside down on the bank. Chaos smiled with glee; the passengers had begun to scream, and the inhuman sounds of people in pain filled the air.
One of the coaches had fallen partially over the side of the bridge, its rear end resting on the field below. A man was climbing out of the side window, and began helping people out of the carriage. Chaos watched him as he took charge of the situation, impressed by his courage. There was someone like this in every disaster she created, someone who took it upon themselves to help as many people as they could, disregarding their own wellbeing. It was this person that she always chose as her own personal victim.
The man was now running to and fro, helping the injured now that he had helped everyone to escape the carriage. Chaos followed him, waiting for the right moment. Eventually, he returned to the carriage he had come out of. She entered the carriage behind him, and made herself visible, waiting for him to turn around.
Charles Dickens rummaged around the compartment of the train until he found what he was looking for; his manuscript Our Mutual Friend. He held it in his hands, and stood there for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. This was the first time he had been by himself since the accident, and the anguish and shock was beginning to surface. A couple of minutes away from the screaming and chaos were necessary.
When he had finally composed himself he turned, ready to leave the carriage and continue to help as much as he could, but something blocked his way. It seemed to be the body of a woman; her skin was crimson, the colour of blood, and black wings were stretched out behind her, filling the narrow carriage. The figure was skeletal, her bones clearly visible beneath her skin.
He looked up into a pair of soulless eyes with deep black irises. Her black lips were curved into an evil smile, the red skin of the face stretched taut over the bones. The face was dreadful to behold, and as he stepped back in horror the figure vanished, but the image of the terrible features seemed to be burned into his retinas.
The terrible smile that lit up the features of that otherworldly face would haunt him for the rest of his life.
Chaos watched as the man clambered desperately out of the carriage, a satisfied smirk on her face. This was a day he would never forget, for more than one reason.
The task was to rewrite an extract from Charles Dickens' biography, about a train crash he was in. We had to 'make it interesting' and move it away from realism.
Here's my rewrite, let me know what you think!
She watched the train meandering through the countryside, the sense of anticipation building inside her. She would never tire of the feelings of excitement she experienced before every incident. After all, the disasters she created inspired her name; Chaos.
She moved further up the track, finally locating the flagman who was supposed to be signalling any trains that came along. She used her powers to confuse him, moving him along the track so that it would be too late when the engineer eventually saw him. Chaos smiled; it was always so easy to manipulate humans.
The excitement swelled within her as the train reached the gap in the line, and all hell broke loose. She had chosen an excellent location for the crash; the scene was beautiful to her. Carriages littered the area; the last few had stopped on the bridge, but others had run right off onto the bank beneath. A couple of carriages were smashed beyond recognition, and the rest upside down on the bank. Chaos smiled with glee; the passengers had begun to scream, and the inhuman sounds of people in pain filled the air.
One of the coaches had fallen partially over the side of the bridge, its rear end resting on the field below. A man was climbing out of the side window, and began helping people out of the carriage. Chaos watched him as he took charge of the situation, impressed by his courage. There was someone like this in every disaster she created, someone who took it upon themselves to help as many people as they could, disregarding their own wellbeing. It was this person that she always chose as her own personal victim.
The man was now running to and fro, helping the injured now that he had helped everyone to escape the carriage. Chaos followed him, waiting for the right moment. Eventually, he returned to the carriage he had come out of. She entered the carriage behind him, and made herself visible, waiting for him to turn around.
Charles Dickens rummaged around the compartment of the train until he found what he was looking for; his manuscript Our Mutual Friend. He held it in his hands, and stood there for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. This was the first time he had been by himself since the accident, and the anguish and shock was beginning to surface. A couple of minutes away from the screaming and chaos were necessary.
When he had finally composed himself he turned, ready to leave the carriage and continue to help as much as he could, but something blocked his way. It seemed to be the body of a woman; her skin was crimson, the colour of blood, and black wings were stretched out behind her, filling the narrow carriage. The figure was skeletal, her bones clearly visible beneath her skin.
He looked up into a pair of soulless eyes with deep black irises. Her black lips were curved into an evil smile, the red skin of the face stretched taut over the bones. The face was dreadful to behold, and as he stepped back in horror the figure vanished, but the image of the terrible features seemed to be burned into his retinas.
The terrible smile that lit up the features of that otherworldly face would haunt him for the rest of his life.
Chaos watched as the man clambered desperately out of the carriage, a satisfied smirk on her face. This was a day he would never forget, for more than one reason.
I love what you've done here, especially the ending, it's so well written Laura that you should honestly have no problem with this whole thing, it'll do great!
ReplyDeleteThank you so much, you're always so nice about my writing! :)
DeleteI though this was good, but you had a few places where you were telling instead of showing, and you had some places where you repeated yourself. I didn't change the story at all, just took out the extra words that seemed to be slowing down your pacing. :)
ReplyDeleteShe watched the train meandering through the countryside, the sense of anticipation building inside her. She would never tire of the excitement she experienced before every incident. Her disasters inspired her name; Chaos.
She moved further up the track, finally locating the flagman who was supposed to be signalling any trains that came along. She narrowed her eyes, focusing intently on him. The flagman face become unfocused. Looking bemused, he wandered off down the track. When he was too far away for the engineer to see him, Chaos smiled.
Excitement swelled within her as the train reached the gap in the line. She had chosen an excellent location for the crash; the scene was beautiful. Carriages littered the area; the last few had stopped on the bridge, but others had run onto the bank beneath. A few were smashed beyond recognition, and the rest upside down. Chaos smiled with glee as inhuman sounds pain filled the air.
One of the coaches was teetering over the side of the bridge, its rear end resting on the field below. A man climbed out the side window, and began helping people from the carriage. Chaos watched as he took charge of the situation, impressed by his courage. There was someone like this in every disaster, someone who took it upon themselves to help as many people as they could, disregarding their own well being. It was this person that she always chose as her own personal victim. (I felt like she was going to kill him when she said she was going to make him her victim, but she just looked at him. This line feels misleading, so I would just leave it out and let us watch the scene as it unfolds.)
The man was now running to and fro, helping everyone he could. Chaos followed him,. Eventually, he returned to the carriage he had come out of. She entered behind him, and made herself visible
Charles Dickens rummaged around the compartment of the train until he found his manuscript Our Mutual Friend. He held it and stood there for a moment, breathing shakily. Anguish and shock was beginning to surface.
When he had composed himself as much as he could, he turned, ready to continue helping. Something blocked his way. It seemed to be a woman; her skin was crimson, the colour of blood, and black wings were stretched out behind her, filling the narrow carriage. The figure was skeletal, her bones clearly visible beneath her skin.
He looked up into a pair of soulless eyes with deep black irises. Her black lips curved into an evil smile, the red skin of the face stretched taut over the bones. He stepped back in horror and the figure vanished, but the image of the terrible features was burned into his retinas. It would haunt him for the rest of his life.
Hope this helped! Good luck with it. :) Keep us posted on how you do.
Thanks very much, that's some great advice! I'll let you know how I get on :)
DeleteThis is fun! I like the whole idea behind it. A lot of my thoughts Tamara already covered. She did a great job showing you where you could show more. Definitely take her advice! The only other nitpick I noticed would be to take out "to and fro" --I think it reads more frantic without it. Good luck! :)
ReplyDeleteThanks, I agonised over the idea for ages! I've changed that now, thanks for the advice!
DeleteI have no knowledge of what makes writing good but I thought this was great! You have nothing to worry about tomorrow, I on the other hand still have that bloody essay to do...
ReplyDeleteThanks! Oh no, good luck getting it done! I hate essay writing.
Deletethat was deep and descriptive! great job!
ReplyDeleteI always imagined soulless eyes without irises but that's just me.
ReplyDeleteI see what you mean, I just liked the line :)
Deleteps, i awarded you!
ReplyDeleteThanks! :)
Delete