Weekly Writing: Friday 31st May

Writing task: The Pale Man

Sometimes, if I tell my tutees that we are going to write a story, they look at me in horror. “But I have no ideas!” they exclaim. “I can only write half a page and then I can’t think of anything.”

I have found the most useful way of dealing with writer’s block is to provide the idea for them in the form of a movie clip. That way, they don’t have to think of any ideas at all; the ideas are all in front of them. They can then concentrate solely on writing it up in such a way that they can bring it to life.

I have used this clip from Pan’s Labyrinth numerous times with older teenagers and it has enabled them to produce some really imaginative writing:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A6-89x7ew2g

WARNING: This movie clip is from a film rated 15. It’s a bit gross when the monster bites the head off of one of the fairies, so not one to watch if you are squeamish about that kind of thing!

I always find that students find it less overwhelming if I ask them to focus on something specific. For this clip, I encourage them to focus on adjectives and adverbs.

Below is one example of a piece that I put together with one of my tutees. Remember, it is NOT a model answer. It is just one interpretation. I have highlighted some adjectives and adverbs as an example of where they could be incorporated.

Lifelessly, he sat on the large, leather chair. Rhythmically, his long, black, blood-stained fingernails tapped on the long, wooden table. His translucent, hairless, freckled skin was stretched tightly across his muscular arms and his ribcage could be clearly seen. The bones on his shoulders protruded through the white skin. Above his wrinkled neck, hung a small piece of blackened flesh and his mouth looked savage. Like two pierced holes, his nostrils were open wounds. Disconcertingly, he had no eyes. Where the eyes ought to have been was merely more pale skin.

Suddenly, the tapping ceased. Languidly, he turned his palms upwards revealing two gaping black holes like the void of night. On a delicate, china plate in front of the creature sat two revolting bloodshot eyeballs. As he went to pick up the vile, tawny eyeballs, his jet black nail dug into the sides of them as he placed them in the voids. The squelching sound was audible. They twitched perceptibly from side to side, absorbing their surroundings. His blood-stained fingers separated, fully exposing the repugnant eyeballs. Gradually, his long, skinny arms raised above his broad, bony shoulders and he placed his hands onto his pale face, where his eyes ought to have been.

It wasn’t until she felt the harsh breath against her neck that she noticed the 

monstrosity that towered behind her. She ran. Her small feet tapped against the creaky floorboards.

Finally, she reached the end of the dark and mysterious hallway. Filled with horror, she stared as the last grain of sand fell.

Remember, it is often best to create a plan before starting to write. You could watch the clip and then brainstorm some adjectives and adverbs using a thesaurus.

It is also a good idea to write a very short plan for each paragraph. I usually write the numbers 1-3 and then think of 3 different things to focus on. For example, the plan for the piece above could have been:

1) Describe the creature’s fingernails/skin/mouth/nostrils and eyes (this is what is known as a “zoom out” paragraph, where you focus more generally on something before “zooming in” on something more specific).

2) Zoom in – describe the creature putting the eyeballs into the sockets in his hands.

3) Describe when the girl notices that the narrator is behind her.

4) The last grain of sand falls in the egg timer – leave on a cliff-hanger.

You could try to create a mixture of long and short paragraphs to build tension, as in the example above.

Don’t feel disheartened if your attempt does not seem as detailed as the one above. This will come with practice, I promise. I have several tutees who used to dread creative writing. However, they have committed to producing just one piece of creative writing per week for “homework” each week for the past year and the difference in their writing is incredible; I could not be prouder of them. My only part in this has been a quick 5-minute feedback session at the beginning of each week. The improvement they have made is solely down to their willingness to practise. As with all skills, there really are no short cuts.

One piece of carefully crafted writing per week will make the world of difference.

Enjoy!

Daily Reading: Thursday 30th May

This is an extract from The Hobbit by J.R.R.Tolkien:

"But your way through Mirkwood is dark, dangerous and difficult," he said. "Water is not easy to find there, nor food. The time is not yet come for nuts (though it may be past and gone indeed before you get to the other side), and nuts are about all that grows there fit for food; in there the wild things are dark, queer, and savage. I will provide you with skins for carrying water, and I will give you some bows and arrows. But I doubt very much whether anything you find in Mirkwood will be wholesome to eat or to drink. There is one stream there, I know, black and strong which crosses the path. That you should neither drink of, nor bathe in; for I have heard that it carries enchantment and a great drowsiness and forgetfulness. And in the dim shadows of that place I don't think you will shoot anything, wholesome or unwholesome, without straying from the path. That you MUST NOT do, for any reason. "That is all the advice I can give you.

By the afternoon they had reached the eaves of Mirkwood, and were resting almost beneath the great overhanging boughs of its outer trees. Their trunks were huge and gnarled, their branches twisted, their leaves were dark and long. Ivy grew on them and trailed along the ground. "Well, here is Mirkwood!" said Gandalf. "The greatest of the forests of the Northern world. I hope you like the look of it. 

They walked in single file. The entrance to the path was like a sort of arch leading into a gloomy tunnel made by two great trees that leant together, too old and strangled with ivy and hung with lichen to bear more than a few blackened leaves. The path itself was narrow and wound in and out among the trunks. Soon the light at the gate was like a little bright hole far behind, and the quiet was so deep that their feet seemed to thump along while all the trees leaned over them and listened. As their eyes became used to the dimness they could see a little way to either side in a sort of darkened green glimmer. Occasionally a slender beam of sun that had the luck to slip in through some opening in the leaves far above, and still more luck in not being caught in the tangled boughs and matted twigs beneath, stabbed down thin and bright before them. But this was seldom, and it soon ceased altogether. There were black squirrels in the wood. As Bilbo's sharp inquisitive eyes got used to seeing things he could catch glimpses of them whisking off the path and scuttling behind tree-trunks. There were queer noises too, grunts, scufflings, and hurryings in the undergrowth, and among the leaves that lay piled endlessly thick in places on the forest-floor; but what made the noises he could not see. The nastiest things they saw were the cobwebs: dark dense cobwebs with threads extraordinarily thick, often stretched from tree to tree, or tangled in the lower branches on either side of them. There were none stretched across the path, but whether because some magic kept it clear, or for what other reason they could not guess.

It was not long before they grew to hate the forest as heartily as they had hated the tunnels of the goblins, and it seemed to offer even less hope of any ending. But they had to go on and on, long after they were sick for a sight of the sun and of the sky, and longed for the feel of wind on their faces. There was no movement of air down under the forest-roof, and it was everlastingly still and dark and stuffy. Even the dwarves felt it, who were used to tunnelling, and lived at times for long whiles without the light of the sun; but the hobbit, who liked holes to make a house in but not to spend summer days in, felt he was being slowly suffocated. The nights were the worst. It then became pitch-dark, not what you call pitch-dark, but really pitch; so black that you really could see nothing. Bilbo tried flapping his hand in front of his nose, but he could not see it at all. Well, perhaps it is not true to say that they could see nothing: they could see eyes. They slept all closely huddled together, and took it in turns to watch; and when it was Bilbo's turn he would see gleams in the darkness round them, and sometimes pairs of yellow or red or green eyes would stare at him from a little distance, and then slowly fade and disappear and slowly shine out again in another place. And sometimes they would gleam down from the branches just above him; and that was most terrifying. But the eyes that he liked the least were horrible pale bulbous sort of eyes. "Insect eyes" he thought, "not animal eyes, only they are much too big". Although it was not yet very cold, they tried lighting watch-fires at night, but they soon gave that up. It seemed to bring hundreds and hundreds of eyes all round them, though the creatures, whatever they were, were careful never to let their bodies show in the little flicker of the flames. Worse still it brought thousands of dark-grey and black moths, some nearly as big as your hand, flapping and whirring round their ears. They could not stand that, nor the huge bats, black as a top-hat, either; so they gave up fires and sat at night and dozed in the enormous uncanny darkness.

Points for discussion

What impressions do you get of the forest from the adjectives used?

What effect is created by the repetition of the word “eyes” in the final paragraph?

Notice the other words from the lexical field of sight – how does this add to the effect?

Daily Reading: Wednesday 28th May

Today, we are going to look at creating a fantasy character – this is where you can get really creative. You could try mixing and matching the physical characteristics of creatures which already exist or you could make up a brand new creature!

If fantasy writing is your thing and you would like some help with creative fantasy words and sentences, I would highly recommend this book:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Descriptosaurus-Fantasy-Alison-Wilcox/dp/1138858757/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=fantasy+descriptosaurus&qid=1558716524&s=gateway&sr=8-1

It isn’t cheap, but it has SIGNIFICANTLY improved my son’s creative writing, so I know that it works. It contains some great vocabulary and gives you plenty of new ideas.

Here are extracts from it which you can look at for free:

https://www.crcpress.com/rsc/downloads/temp_file_Descriptosaurus_Genre_Writing_Toolkit1.pdf

This is an extract from “Prince Caspian” by C.S. Lewis.

“Oh! Ugh! What on earth’s that? Take it away, the horrid thing.”

            He really had some excuse for feeling a little surprised. Something very curious indeed had come out of the cabin of the ship and was slowly approaching  . . .  you might call it – and indeed it was – a mouse. But then it was a mouse on its hind legs and stood about two feet high. A thin band of gold passed around its head under one ear and over the other and in this was stuck a long crimson feather. (As the mouse’s fur was very dark, almost black, the effect was bold and striking.) Its left paw rested on the hilt of a sword very nearly as long as its tail. Its balance, as it paced gravely along the swaying deck, was perfect, and its manners courtly. Lucy and Edmond recognized him at once – Reepicheep, the most valiant of all the talking beasts of Narnia, and the chief mouse. He had won undying glory in the second Battle of Beruna. Lucy longed, as she had always done, to take Reepicheep up in her arms and cuddle him. But this, as she well knew, was a pleasure she could never have: it would have offended him deeply. Instead, she went down on one knee to talk to him.

            Reepicheep put forward his left leg, drew back his right, bowed, kissed her hand, straightened himself, twirled his whiskers, and said in his shrill, piping voice:

            “My humble duty to your Majesty. And to King Edmund, too.”

Points for discussion

-          Look up the word “anthropomorphism” – what does it mean?

-         

       Which animals best fit characters with the following characteristics?

-          - Brave/heroic

-          - Anxious

-          - Fickle

-          - Cruel

-          - Intelligent

-          - Vain

Look at the range of simple, compound and complex sentences used in this extract. (If you cannot remember simple, compound and complex sentences, use this resource, which explains it brilliantly https://www.tes.com/teaching-resource/simple-compound-and-complex-sentences-6137004. It is free – you just need to create a TES account!)

-         

      How does the writer use sentence structure (a mixture of simple, compound and complex sentences) to create an effect in this extract?

-          

       How does the writer use dashes (-) and ellipsis (…) for a specific effect?

If you would like more help creating your own fantasy character, I would recommend the resource below which takes you through building your own character step-by-step. It also contains some more examples of characters from the fantasy genre for you to analyse:

https://www.tes.com/teaching-resource/creating-fantasy-character-descriptions-11134660

It is a free resource – you just need to create an account on TES to access it.

How does this link to the GCSE?

In Paper 1, question 5, you could be asked to write the opening of a story. The examiner will be looking for:

- an original and imaginative plot

- language techniques such as similes and metaphors

- high level vocabulary

- varied sentence structure for effect (i.e. a mixture of simple, compound and complex sentences)

So the more creative writing practice you can get, the better!

Daily Reading: Tuesday 27th May

The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe can now be bought incredibly cheaply because it is such an old book. There are also film adaptations, which you could compare to the book.

This is an extract from The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis:

But at last he came to a part where it was more level and the valley opened out. And there, on the other side of the river, quite close to him, in the middle of a little plain between two hills, he saw what must be the White Witch's House. And the moon was shining brighter than ever. The House was really a small castle. It seemed to be all towers; little towers with long pointed spires on them, sharp as needles. They looked like huge dunce's caps or sorcerer's caps. And they shone in the moonlight and their long shadows looked strange on the snow. Edmund began to be afraid of the House.

But it was too late to think of turning back now.

He crossed the river on the ice and walked up to the House. There was nothing stirring; not the slightest sound anywhere. Even his own feet made no noise on the deep newly fallen snow. He walked on and on, past corner after corner of the House, and past turret after turret to find the door. He had to go right round to the far side before he found it. It was a huge arch but the great iron gates

stood wide open.

Edmund crept up to the arch and looked inside into the courtyard, and there he saw a sight that nearly made his heart stop beating. Just inside the gate, with the moonlight shining on it, stood an enormous lion crouched as if it was ready to spring. And Edmund stood in the shadow of the arch, afraid to go on and afraid to go back, with his knees knocking together. He stood there so long that

his teeth would have been chattering with cold even if they had not been chattering with fear. How long this really lasted I don't know, but it seemed to Edmund to last for hours.

Then at last he began to wonder why the lion was standing so still - for it hadn't moved one inch since he first set eyes on it. Edmund now ventured a little nearer, still keeping in the shadow of the arch as much as he could. He now saw from the way the lion was standing that it couldn't have been looking at him at all. ("But supposing it turns its head?" thought Edmund.) In fact it was staring at something else namely a little: dwarf who stood with his back to it about four feet away. "Aha!" thought Edmund. "When it springs at the dwarf then will be my chance to escape." But still the lion never moved, nor did the dwarf. And now at last Edmund remembered what the others had said about the White Witch turning people into stone. Perhaps this was only a stone lion. And as soon as he had thought of that he noticed that the lion's back and the top of its head were covered with snow. Of course it must be only a statue! No living animal would have let itself get covered with snow. Then very slowly and with his heart beating as if it would burst, Edmund ventured to go up to the lion. Even now he hardly dared to touch it, but at last he put out his hand, very quickly, and did. It was cold stone. He had been frightened of a mere statue!

He turned away and began to cross the courtyard. As he got into the middle of it he saw that there were dozens of statues all about - standing here and there rather as the pieces stand on a chess-board when it is half-way through the game. There were stone satyrs, and stone wolves, and bears and foxes and cat-amountains of stone. There were lovely stone shapes that looked like women but who were really the spirits of trees. There was the great shape of a centaur and a winged horse and a long lithe creature that Edmund took to be a dragon. They all looked so strange standing there perfectly life-like and also perfectly still, in the bright cold moonlight, that it was eerie work crossing the courtyard. Right in the very middle stood a huge shape like a man, but as tall as a tree, with a fierce face and a shaggy beard and a great club in its right hand. Even though he knew that it was only a stone giant and not a live one, Edmund did not like going past it.

 He now saw that there was a dim light showing from a doorway on the far side of the courtyard. He went to it; there was a flight of stone steps going up to an open door. Edmund went up them. Across the threshold lay a great wolf.

 "It's all right, it's all right," he kept saying to himself; "it's only a stone wolf. It can't hurt me", and he raised his leg to step over it. Instantly the huge creature rose, with all the hair bristling along its back, opened a great, red mouth and said in a growling voice:

 "Who's there? Who's there? Stand still, stranger, and tell me who you are."

 "If you please, sir," said Edmund, trembling so that he could hardly speak, "my name is Edmund, and I'm the Son of Adam that Her Majesty met in the wood the other day and I've come to bring her the news that my brother and sisters are now in Narnia - quite close, in the Beavers' house. She - she wanted to see them."

  "I will tell Her Majesty," said the Wolf. "Meanwhile, stand still on the threshold, as you value your life." Then it vanished into the house.

Edmund stood and waited, his fingers aching with cold and his heart pounding in his chest, and presently the grey wolf, Maugrim, the Chief of the Witch's Secret Police, came bounding back and said, "Come in! Come in! Fortunate favourite of the Queen - or else not so fortunate."

And Edmund went in, taking great care not to tread on the Wolf's paws.

 He found himself in a long gloomy hall with many pillars, full, as the courtyard had been, of statues. The one nearest the door was a little faun with a very sad expression on its face, and Edmund couldn't help wondering if this might be Lucy's friend. The only light came from a single lamp and close beside this sat the White Witch.

Points for discussion

See if you can find the following techniques in the extract:

-          Similes

-          Use of a one line paragraph for a particular effect – what is the effect of this?

-          Use of repetition to create a sense of walking a great distance

How is dialogue (direct speech) used to create tension?

Daily Reading: Monday 26th May

If you haven't yet read, A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness, it really is a must-read. Also, there is  a brilliant film adaptation

After reading the novel, you might like to compare it to the film. What are the similarities and differences between the book and the film? Do you like the way the characters were presented in the film or where you disappointed?

The extract below from A Monster Calls is taken from this source:

https://blog.whsmith.co.uk/zbc1016-read-an-extract-from-a-monster-calls-by-patrick-ness/

A Monster Calls

The monster showed up just after midnight. As they do.

Conor was awake when it came.

He’d had a nightmare. Well, not a nightmare. The nightmare. The one he’d been having a lot lately. The one with the darkness and the wind and the screaming. The one with the hands slipping from his grasp, no matter how hard he tried to hold on. The one that always ended with–

“Go away,” Conor whispered into the darkness of his bedroom, trying to push the nightmare back, not let it follow him into the world of waking. “Go away now.”

He glanced over at the clock his mum had put on his bedside table. 12.07. Seven minutes past midnight. Which was late for a school night, late for a Sunday, certainly.

He’d told no one about the nightmare. Not his mum, obviously, but no one else either, not his dad in their fortnightly (or so) phone call, definitely not his grandma, and no one at school. Absolutely not.

What happened in the nightmare was something no one else ever needed to know.

Conor blinked groggily at his room, then he frowned. There was something he was missing. He sat up in his bed, waking a bit more. The nightmare was slipping from him, but there was something he couldn’t put his finger on, something different, something–

He listened, straining against the silence, but all he could hear was the quiet house around him, the occasional tick from the empty downstairs or a rustle of bedding from his mum’s room next door.

Nothing.

And then something. Something he realized was the thing that had woken him.

Someone was calling his name.

Conor.

He felt a rush of panic, his guts twisting. Had it followed him? Had it somehow stepped out of the nightmare and–?

“Don’t be stupid,” he told himself. “You’re too old for monsters.”

And he was. He’d turned thirteen just last month. Monsters were for babies. Monsters were for bedwetters. Monsters were for–

Conor.

There it was again. Conor swallowed. It had been an unusually warm October, and his window was still open. Maybe the curtains shushing each other in the small breeze could have sounded like–

Conor.

All right, it wasn’t the wind. It was definitely a voice, but not one he recognized. It wasn’t his mother’s, that was for sure. It wasn’t a woman’s voice at all, and he wondered for a crazy moment if his dad had somehow made a surprise trip from America and arrived too late to phone and–

He heard the creaking and cracking of wood again, groaning like a living thing, like the hungry stomach of the world growling for a meal.

Conor.

No. Not his dad. This voice had a quality to it, a monstrous quality, wild and untamed.

Then he heard a heavy creak of wood outside, as if something gigantic was stepping across a timber floor.

He didn’t want to go and look. But at the same time, a part of him wanted to look more than anything.

Wide awake now, he pushed back the covers, got out of bed, and went over to the window. In the pale half-light of the moon, he could clearly see the church tower up on the small hill behind his house, the one with the train tracks curving beside it, two hard steel lines glowing dully in the night. The moon shone, too, on the graveyard attached to the church, filled with tombstones you could hardly read any more.

Conor could also see the great yew tree that rose from the centre of the graveyard, a tree so ancient it almost seemed to be made of the same stone as the church. He only knew it was a yew because his mother had told him, first when he was little to make sure he didn’t eat the berries, which were poisonous, and again this past year, when she’d started staring out of their kitchen window with a funny look on her face and saying, “That’s a yew tree, you know.”

And then he heard his name again.

Conor.

Like it was being whispered in both his ears.

“What?” Conor said, his heart thumping, suddenly impatient for whatever was going to happen.

A cloud moved in front of the moon, covering the whole landscape in darkness, and a whoosh of wind rushed down the hill and into his room, billowing the curtains. He heard the creaking and cracking of wood again, groaning like a living thing, like the hungry stomach of the world growling for a meal.

Then the cloud passed, and the moon shone again.

On the yew tree.

Which now stood firmly in the middle of his back garden.

And here was the monster.

As Conor watched, the uppermost branches of the tree gathered themselves into a great and terrible face, shimmering into a mouth and nose and even eyes, peering back at him. Other branches twisted around one another, always creaking, always groaning, until they formed two long arms and a second leg to set down beside the main trunk. The rest of the tree gathered itself into a spine and then a torso, the thin, needle-like leaves weaving together to make a green, furry skin that moved and breathed as if there were muscles and lungs underneath.

A monster, Conor thought. A real, honest-to-goodness monster. In real, waking life.

Already taller than Conor’s window, the monster grew wider as it brought itself together, filling out to a powerful shape, one that looked somehow strong, somehow mighty. It stared at Conor the whole time, and he could hear the loud, windy breathing from its mouth. It set its giant hands on either side of his window, lowering its head until its huge eyes filled the frame, holding Conor with its glare. Conor’s house gave a little moan under its weight.

And then the monster spoke.

Conor O’Malley, it said, a huge gust of warm, compost-smelling breath rushing through Conor’s window, blowing his hair back. Its voice rumbled low and loud, with a vibration so deep Conor could feel it in his chest.

I have come to get you, Conor O’Malley, the monster said, pushing against the house, shaking the pictures off Conor’s wall, sending books and electronic gadgets and an old stuffed toy rhino tumbling to the floor.

A monster, Conor thought. A real, honest-to-goodness monster. In real, waking life. Not in a dream, but here, at his window.

Come to get him.

But Conor didn’t run.

In fact, he found he wasn’t even frightened.

All he could feel, all he had felt since the monster revealed itself, was a growing disappointment.

Because this wasn’t the monster he was expecting.

“So come and get me then,” he said.

A strange quiet fell.

What did you say? the monster asked.

Conor crossed his arms. “I said, come and get me then.”

The monster paused for a moment, and then with a roar it pounded two fists against the house. Conor’s ceiling buckled under the blows and huge cracks appeared in the walls. Wind filled the room, the air thundering with the monster’s angry bellows.

 “Shout all you want,” Conor shrugged, barely raising his voice. “I’ve seen worse.”

The monster roared even louder and smashed an arm through Conor’s window, shattering glass and wood and brick. A huge, twisted, branch-wound hand grabbed Conor around the middle and lifted him off the floor. It swung him out of his room and into the night, high above his back garden, holding him up against the circle of the moon, its fingers clenching so hard against Conor’s ribs he could barely breathe. Conor could see raggedy teeth made of hard, knotted wood in the monster’s open mouth, and he felt warm breath rushing up towards him.

Then the monster paused again.

You really aren’t afraid, are you?

“No,” Conor said. “Not of you, anyway.”

The monster narrowed its eyes.

You will be, it said. Before the end.

And the last thing Conor remembered was the monster’s mouth roaring open to eat him alive.

Points for discussion

How does the Patrick Ness bring the monster alive for the reader?

Think about the use of the following techniques:

·         Repetition for effect

·         Ellipsis (a dash where a sentence is left unfinished)

·         Withholding information to create mystery and suspense

·         Onomatopoeia (words which make the noise they describe)

·         Adjectives

·         Similes (comparing one thing to another using the words "like" or "as")

·         Short sentences to build tension

How does this link to GCSE English Language?

You may be given a question such as this:

A student, having read this section of the text, said: “The writer manages to successfully bring the monster alive for the reader. The way that the writer describes Conor’s reaction is unexpected.” To what extent do you agree?

In your response you could:

·         Write about your own impressions of the monster and Conor

·         Evaluate how the writer has created these impressions

·         Support your opinions with reference to the text                                                                       

A sample response might look something like this:

I agree that the writer successfully brings the monster alive for the reader. The writer appeals to all of the five senses in the description. The reader would therefore be able to imagine the stench of the monster’s “compost-smelling breath” and could imagine the feeling of the “vibration” in Conor’s chest. The reader would also be able to hear the monster through the imagery of the “loud, windy breathing from its mouth” and through the onomatopoeia in “creaking” and “groaning”.

The writer also mentions lots of body parts such as “arms”, “leg”, “spine” and “torso” when describing how the tree morphs into a monster. This makes the monster appear more life-like, as it has been personified and therefore seems more threatening. Also, the verbs “moved” and “breathed” add to this sense of personification.

The writer also brings the monster to life by showing how it seems to grow bigger in size in the phrases, “filling out to a powerful shape” and “its huge eyes filled the frame”. This sense of size adds to the terrifying image, bringing the monster alive for the reader.

I also agree that Conor’s reaction to the monster is surprising, making the reader curious. The short phrase, “come to get him” seems very scary and intimidating. However, this is juxtaposed with the fact that “Conor didn’t run”. This is surprising for the reader because a natural reaction to seeing such a monster would be to run away. At first, the reader might think that Conor is frozen in shock, so it is even more unusual when we learn that “he wasn’t even frightened”. This would make the reader very confused and curious to know why Conor is not afraid. Their curiosity would be aroused even further when we are told that his overwhelming emotion is “disappointment”, which seems like a completely inappropriate reaction and the reader would wonder what he was expecting instead, particularly as the writer has written that it wasn’t what he was “expecting”. This  makes the reader wonder whether he was expecting something far worse and therefore prepares the reader for something far worse to appear further on in the novel.

Disclaimer: This is NOT (I repeat NOT) a model answer. This is simply a demonstration of the kind of language techniques you could be looking out for and the kinds of things you could begin thinking about. There are many, many other points that you could have made which would be equally valid. 

If you would like more detailed information about Paper 1 question 4 of the AQA specification, I would recommend:

Mr Bruff's guide to AQA Paper 1 question 4

Weekly writing: Friday 24th May 2019

Today, I think that you should have a go at writing your own opinion article. I could give you a topic, but I think that it will be far easier for you if I don’t. If you are truly passionate about the topic you are writing about, it will all come so much more easily. Think of a subject which really annoys you or inspires you – the more controversial the better and simply write about it.

Below is a quick summary of some of the techniques we have looked at this week in case you would like to include them but please remember that they are NOT compulsory.

These are some ways in which you could start if you are stuck:

·         A personal anecdote

·         A rhetorical question

·         A shocking fact

These are some rhetorical techniques that you could include in your writing:

Anecdote/alliteration

Facts

Opinions disguised as fact (start an opinion with “clearly” or “obviously”)

Rhetorical question/repetition

Exaggeration/emotive language

Statistics

Triples

If you really can’t think of anything to write about, I have decided to write the opening of an article about the influence of the virtual world on teenagers.

Task: Can you think of a suitable heading and subheading for this article?

Shockingly, the average teenager spends almost 75% of their time online, chatting with their virtual friends and only 25% of their time engaging in the real world with real people face to face. This lunacy must stop. How are the next generation going to get jobs if they lack the necessary social skills? Communicating online is far different to communicating face to face. Firstly, online communication does not happen in “real time”. The recipient of a text can take a minute or even an hour if they choose before deciding how to respond. This does not happen in real life. In the real world, one must be prepared with an answer as soon as a question is asked of them. Secondly, it is important that our young people learn about the appropriate body language to engage in real life. How will they learn how to maintain eye contact or how to shake somebody’s hand when they are first introduced? All these skills are vital in the real world, but completely inconsequential in the virtual world.

By far the biggest problem with communicating with “friends” online is that the identity of that person on the other end of the phone cannot truly be known. Last year, it was reported that a young school girl in Bournemouth was lured into meeting a new “friend” at a park. This so-called 12 year old girl transpired to be a 40 year old man, who was arrested by the police and taken into custody. This particular case ended well as the young girl involved was shrewd enough to tell an adult. However, many teenagers may not have done this and the situation could have ended in tragic consequences.

See if you can label some of the techniques I have highlighted:

·         Statistics

·         Ambitious vocabulary

·         Anecdote

·         Repetition

·         Use of inverted commas to indicate sarcasm

·         Rhetorical questions

You could argue the opposite point of view – that the virtual world has a positive influence on young people

Please remember, that it does not matter whether the facts are correct (obviously, it does if you are writing for a real life newspaper, but it really doesn’t if you are writing for fun or for an exam, so feel free to make it up – one of the many advantages of English as a subject. Just get creative!)

Most importantly, enjoy the freedom of expressing your own unique point of view. Who cares if people disagree with you? What you think really does matter and the skill of being able to express yourself will get you far. 

To quote Dr Seuss (again):