Today I did both a reading past paper (I got 77%) and a writing past paper, here it is. It is 778 words long and has been left exactly the way it was written during the time limit.
Question – Write about an occasion when you either took part in a live performance or helped behind the scenes. Remember to include your thoughts and feelings.
Leaving the school concert that night I remember walking out with my head held high. I had done it. Not only had I made my teacher proud, and my family, but most importantly I was proud of myself and achieving this above everything else, had been the biggest struggle of all …
In the last few hours leading up to the concert I had not been able to stop quivering: even the most measly minuscule tasks had seemed impossible. When my relatives had arrived to support me their usual bubbly reception had deteriorated and instead all I could do was mutter a simple hello.
After having to bin the majority of my dinner – my stomach was in knots – I grasped my clarinets and my music folder. I remember rummaging through my folder or numerous occasions, never fully convinced that I had all of my music.
As I stepped out the door towards my doom a strong gust of wind pushed me from behind, almost nudging me onwards.
As time passed by my self-belief left with it. I watched as the bright red door swung back and forth time and time again as the audience poured into the school. With every swing, my stomach lurched even more.
The clock ticked tantalisingly as my moment of truth grew nearer and nearer. Before I knew it the band were standing in the wings waiting to go on.
“You ready?” my teacher had asked before presenting me with a sympathetic smile – fat lot of good that would do!
There was a lump in my throat, I couldn’t let Mr Derrett down, what would he think of me?
“Yes” I whimpered whilst my eyes began to feel heaving and my chest started closing in.
The band had walked on to rapturous applause that night. Louder than usual surely? The heat was immense. At one point I had felt like I was gong to faint but luck did not seem to be on my side. The band’s performance flew by – I was completely unaware of how I had played – and soon it was time for that piece. The piece I had been practising for months on end. The piece that had transformed me into a nervous wreck. The piece that had that Mount Everest of a clarinet Cadenza slap bang in the middle of it. …
As Mr Derrett had turned to announce the piece to the unsuspecting audience I told myself that it would be all over soon and that I could play this piece. They were just people after all, and this was my chance to shine. I had been chosen to play this because Mr Derrett thought I could, and if he believed I could, then I definitely could.
I sucked my specially selected reed and placed it carefully in a regimented fashion. I glanced up at Mr Derrett as he raised the baton, took a deep breath and the piece began.
My fingers moved rapidly as that third page of music got nearer. I was trembling and my fingers seemed out of control as sweat collected on my palms. Before I knew it the brass section were playing and I started collecting my thoughts.
I looked at the audience and picked out my parents, I was so eager to make them proud. I wiped my hand on my legs and lifted my clarinet from its stand. I glanced at the music covered in black dots and markings, I knew that music, I could play it. The brass played the penultimate bar of that section as I placed the mouthpiece in my mouth and took a deep breath.
The audience were silent as I played my robust first note with a bit more vibrato than I had intended! I continued through the first line until I reached those mountainous runs, which I managed with ease. I took another deep breath and before I knew it I had reached the all-important high G which surprisingly came out in perfect pitch. I started to enjoy the experience, everyone was watching me and I was playing better than I had ever imagined. The pause note was in sight as I soared through the music with flair and eventually my solo was over and all that was left to do was to sit back enjoy the rest of the piece.
As I stood up to face the audience for my bow I caught my sister’s eye, she looked proud, I had performed my solo, and I was still alive to tell the tale. As a smile spread across my face I pondered over this experience, perhaps one day I would write about it? Perhaps not.
SS
Saturday, April 29, 2006
Thursday, April 27, 2006
dialogue
Hi! I thought i would try dialogue now using different accents.
As I stepped out of the airport and onto the dusty, brown, foreign land, I was welcomed with open arms, "Awlrayt mayt ow was yowr floite?" It took me a second or two to realise what she was asking me. "Aye it wiz really good, dead relaxin'!" I replied as i noticed the look on her face it seemed as though she did not quite understand me either.
"Roite then 'op in the ca' and ai'l show you where you'll be stayin'!" she said as she gestured towards the car door. As i climbed inside, i wondered how long it would take to finally understand her without having to think about it.
L.P
As I stepped out of the airport and onto the dusty, brown, foreign land, I was welcomed with open arms, "Awlrayt mayt ow was yowr floite?" It took me a second or two to realise what she was asking me. "Aye it wiz really good, dead relaxin'!" I replied as i noticed the look on her face it seemed as though she did not quite understand me either.
"Roite then 'op in the ca' and ai'l show you where you'll be stayin'!" she said as she gestured towards the car door. As i climbed inside, i wondered how long it would take to finally understand her without having to think about it.
L.P
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Rejig
I am still not entirely sure what a split infinitive is, do you mean "to ever gain"? I'm not sure how to go about writing some stream of consciousness in past tense?
"You ready?" the stewardess asked politely.
I gulped and took a deep breath. "Yes," I whispered, struggling to sound confident.
It was my only chance to gain a place in this orchestra: next year I would be too old. I constantly told myself that there was nothing to worry about as I climbed the stairs, although I didn't really believe it. I realised that if I didn't give it my all, all those months of practising would have gone to waste. The door was finally in sight, I could't turn back now. I muttered some last minute words of encouragement under my breath, before reaching out and grasping the handle.
SS
"You ready?" the stewardess asked politely.
I gulped and took a deep breath. "Yes," I whispered, struggling to sound confident.
It was my only chance to gain a place in this orchestra: next year I would be too old. I constantly told myself that there was nothing to worry about as I climbed the stairs, although I didn't really believe it. I realised that if I didn't give it my all, all those months of practising would have gone to waste. The door was finally in sight, I could't turn back now. I muttered some last minute words of encouragement under my breath, before reaching out and grasping the handle.
SS
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Rejig of descriptive paragraph with a bit extra
I used Picasso as the comparison as I thought his work was thought of as being different and obscure? Perhaps I am wrong though. The paragraph is about me going in for an important audition.
Trembling, I opened the door to face the scorching sun leering through the glass sliding door onto the clinical white staircase. I glanced up the spiralling stairs into the gloom that lay ahead. The hallway was covered in paintings that - unless some kind of abstract art - were the pride and joy of a young class of wannabe Picassos. As I climbed up the staircase, the view of the regimented car park suddenly seemed very appealing indeed...
"You ready?" the stewardess asked politely.
I gulped and took a deep breath "Yes," I whispered, struggling to sound confident.
It was my only chance to ever gain a place in this orchestra: next year I would be too old. As I climbed the stairs constantly telling myself that there was nothing to worry about, although not truly believing it, I realised that if I didn't give it my all, all those months of practising would have gone to waste. Once the door was finally in sight, I uttered some last minute words of encouragement under my breath before reaching out and grabbing the handle.
SS
Trembling, I opened the door to face the scorching sun leering through the glass sliding door onto the clinical white staircase. I glanced up the spiralling stairs into the gloom that lay ahead. The hallway was covered in paintings that - unless some kind of abstract art - were the pride and joy of a young class of wannabe Picassos. As I climbed up the staircase, the view of the regimented car park suddenly seemed very appealing indeed...
"You ready?" the stewardess asked politely.
I gulped and took a deep breath "Yes," I whispered, struggling to sound confident.
It was my only chance to ever gain a place in this orchestra: next year I would be too old. As I climbed the stairs constantly telling myself that there was nothing to worry about, although not truly believing it, I realised that if I didn't give it my all, all those months of practising would have gone to waste. Once the door was finally in sight, I uttered some last minute words of encouragement under my breath before reaching out and grabbing the handle.
SS
Monday, April 24, 2006
I'm trying to write something descripitive for a personal experience now.
Trembling, I had opened the door to face the scorching sun leering through the glass sliding door onto the clinical white steps. I glanced up the spiralling stairs into the gloom that lay ahead. The hallway was covered in paintings that - unless some kind of abstract art - were the pride and joy of a young class of wannabe Piccassos. As I had climbed up the staircase, the view of the regimented car park suddenly seemed very appealing indeed...
SS
Trembling, I had opened the door to face the scorching sun leering through the glass sliding door onto the clinical white steps. I glanced up the spiralling stairs into the gloom that lay ahead. The hallway was covered in paintings that - unless some kind of abstract art - were the pride and joy of a young class of wannabe Piccassos. As I had climbed up the staircase, the view of the regimented car park suddenly seemed very appealing indeed...
SS
Rejig Of Opening Paragraph
Thanks for your help. Yes, I feel like I am finally beginning to understand the pluperfect tense.
Groaning, I had woken up reluctantly to my wailing alarm clock. The sickening tune it emitted seemed somehow worse than a simple beeping. As the sun peered through my window, I had suddenly realised what day it was. I remember pulling the covers over my head as if to shield out the day's events, to prevent them from happening. But I had to face the music at some point.
SS
Groaning, I had woken up reluctantly to my wailing alarm clock. The sickening tune it emitted seemed somehow worse than a simple beeping. As the sun peered through my window, I had suddenly realised what day it was. I remember pulling the covers over my head as if to shield out the day's events, to prevent them from happening. But I had to face the music at some point.
SS
descriptive paragraph
I have decided to leave my story for now and attempt the descriptive element of writing.
Standing on the shore, he gazed into the vast open air. Stretching into the horizon lay a clear blue lake, so motionless, it resembled a huge sheet of glass, mirroring the sky’s every movement. The tiny golden grains tickled his bare feet as he stood taking in the view. Nothing could be heard except the joyous singing of the occasional bird or the gentle lapping of the water
L.P
Standing on the shore, he gazed into the vast open air. Stretching into the horizon lay a clear blue lake, so motionless, it resembled a huge sheet of glass, mirroring the sky’s every movement. The tiny golden grains tickled his bare feet as he stood taking in the view. Nothing could be heard except the joyous singing of the occasional bird or the gentle lapping of the water
L.P
Monday, April 03, 2006
The Story so far with a few changes
Sorry, but I don't understand what is meant by the pluperfect tense.
Myrtle didn't know where she was running to, or when she would stop, but she knew why. The pouring rain clouded her vision through her newly broken glasses. Her nose tickled; there was a pungent smell of the outdoors in the air. Laughter echoed all around her, taunting her, closing in on her.
She soon became breathless, wheezing, trapped. Her surroundings seemed to be spiralling out of control. Suddenly, Myrtle's legs buckled. She could no longer stand, she felt unable to do anything. Nothing was worth this. Surely nothing was worth all this effort and pain. But why? Why did she deserve to be treated this way? Her head throbbed and her throat prickled as tears warmed the rain on her cheeks.
Ever since Myrtle could remember, life had been this way: full of never ending bitterness and grief, taunting comments and lurking laughter around every corner. There had been the occassional bust-up before, but never anything like this. This time things had really gone too far. Myrtle felt overcome with desperation, she desperately needed help. But was there anyone she could turn to? Would anyone listen? No one could possibly understand how she felt and surely whoever she turned to would be shocked at what was revealed. Myrtle shivered in the blowing breeze, her jacket must be lying somewhere in the school, abandoned, forgotten. Just like her.
No matter how hard she tried, Myrtle couldn't erase that vivid night from her mind. Foolishly, she had felt that now he had finally got what he wanted, she could just forget that it had ever happened. But that was impossible now that she had a constant reminder growing inside her...
"Slag!"
Myrtle kept remembering that beast of a girl screaming at her. What felt like years ago, she had burst into the vulnerable toilet cubicle to find Myrtle cowering over a positive pregnancy test. Obviously she'd presumed that Myrtle had just been foolish - that what had happened had been her own fault. If only that was the case...
SS
Myrtle didn't know where she was running to, or when she would stop, but she knew why. The pouring rain clouded her vision through her newly broken glasses. Her nose tickled; there was a pungent smell of the outdoors in the air. Laughter echoed all around her, taunting her, closing in on her.
She soon became breathless, wheezing, trapped. Her surroundings seemed to be spiralling out of control. Suddenly, Myrtle's legs buckled. She could no longer stand, she felt unable to do anything. Nothing was worth this. Surely nothing was worth all this effort and pain. But why? Why did she deserve to be treated this way? Her head throbbed and her throat prickled as tears warmed the rain on her cheeks.
Ever since Myrtle could remember, life had been this way: full of never ending bitterness and grief, taunting comments and lurking laughter around every corner. There had been the occassional bust-up before, but never anything like this. This time things had really gone too far. Myrtle felt overcome with desperation, she desperately needed help. But was there anyone she could turn to? Would anyone listen? No one could possibly understand how she felt and surely whoever she turned to would be shocked at what was revealed. Myrtle shivered in the blowing breeze, her jacket must be lying somewhere in the school, abandoned, forgotten. Just like her.
No matter how hard she tried, Myrtle couldn't erase that vivid night from her mind. Foolishly, she had felt that now he had finally got what he wanted, she could just forget that it had ever happened. But that was impossible now that she had a constant reminder growing inside her...
"Slag!"
Myrtle kept remembering that beast of a girl screaming at her. What felt like years ago, she had burst into the vulnerable toilet cubicle to find Myrtle cowering over a positive pregnancy test. Obviously she'd presumed that Myrtle had just been foolish - that what had happened had been her own fault. If only that was the case...
SS
Sunday, April 02, 2006
The Story So Far...
Myrtle didn't know where she was running to, or when she would stop, but she knew why. The pouring rain clouded her vision through her newly broken glasses. Her nose tickled; there was a pungent smell of the outdoors in the air. Laughter echoed all around her, taunting her, closing in on her.
She soon became breathless, wheezing, trapped. Her surroundings seemed to be spiralling out of control. Suddenly, Myrtle's legs buckled. She could no longer stand, she felt unable to do anything. Nothing was worth this. Surely nothing was worth all this effort and pain. But why? Why did she deserve to be treated this way? Her head throbbed and her throat prickled as tears warmed the rain on her cheeks.
Ever since Myrtle could remember, life had been this way: full of never ending bitterness and grief, taunting comments and lurking laughter around every corner. There had been the occassional bust-up before, but never anything like this. This time things had really gone too far. Myrtle felt overcome with desperation, she desperately needed help. But was there anyone she could turn to? Would anyone listen? No one could possibly understand how she felt and surely whoever she turned to would be shocked at what was revealed. Myrtle shivered in the blowing breeze, her jacket must be lying somewhere in the school, abandoned, forgotten. Just like her.
No matter how hard she tried, Myrtle couldn't erase that vivid night from her mind. Foolishly, she had felt that now he had finally gotten what he wanted, she could just forget that it had ever happened. But that was impossible now that she had a constant reminder growing inside her...
"Slag!"
Myrtle kept remembering that beast of a girl screaming at her. What felt like years ago, she had burst into the vulnerable toilet cubicle to find Myrtle cowering over a positive pregnancy test. Obviously she had presumed that Myrtle had just been foolish and had gotten herself into this terrifying mess. If only that was the case...
SS
She soon became breathless, wheezing, trapped. Her surroundings seemed to be spiralling out of control. Suddenly, Myrtle's legs buckled. She could no longer stand, she felt unable to do anything. Nothing was worth this. Surely nothing was worth all this effort and pain. But why? Why did she deserve to be treated this way? Her head throbbed and her throat prickled as tears warmed the rain on her cheeks.
Ever since Myrtle could remember, life had been this way: full of never ending bitterness and grief, taunting comments and lurking laughter around every corner. There had been the occassional bust-up before, but never anything like this. This time things had really gone too far. Myrtle felt overcome with desperation, she desperately needed help. But was there anyone she could turn to? Would anyone listen? No one could possibly understand how she felt and surely whoever she turned to would be shocked at what was revealed. Myrtle shivered in the blowing breeze, her jacket must be lying somewhere in the school, abandoned, forgotten. Just like her.
No matter how hard she tried, Myrtle couldn't erase that vivid night from her mind. Foolishly, she had felt that now he had finally gotten what he wanted, she could just forget that it had ever happened. But that was impossible now that she had a constant reminder growing inside her...
"Slag!"
Myrtle kept remembering that beast of a girl screaming at her. What felt like years ago, she had burst into the vulnerable toilet cubicle to find Myrtle cowering over a positive pregnancy test. Obviously she had presumed that Myrtle had just been foolish and had gotten herself into this terrifying mess. If only that was the case...
SS
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