Task 39: Innovation

I sincerely hope that your reading of the various excerpts I have sent you during this term together with your own attempts at each task will have taught you loads about how to produce really effective prose. You will have picked up techniques and devices - consciously and without realising it - which will enrich your writing in the future, and you will have had the chance to experiment with some of these already too.

For your final task of this term (and your final prose task of this academic year), I would like you to think especially hard about how to continue that experimentation, and attempt as innovative and 'creative' a piece of prose fiction as you can muster. In order to assist you, I have emailed all of you five excerpts from different novels which I think display a particularly innovative use of language and narrative. Look carefully at what each writer is doing - with their narrator, with their tenses, with their vocabulary, grammar and syntax (sentence structure).

Part One

As usual, I would like you to choose ONE excerpt which you liked the most, and explain - in approximately 200 words - what it was about the excerpt that grabbed your interest. In particular, what is the writer doing with language to especially successful effect?

Part Two

Now it is your chance to 'show off' what you have learnt. This does not necessarily mean using lots of long, fancy words and complex, compound sentences - in fact, some of the best writing can be remarkably simple. What I want to be sure of is that all of you have thought long and hard about each and every word, how they are organised, and how every sentence and paragraph has been structured to achieve a particular effect on your reader: deliberate, careful, meticulous prose with an experimental, innovative streak and, above all, exuding originality from start to finish.

I would like you to use the following title: 'The End'. Your piece can either be a self-contained, short story, or the ending of a longer story or novel; but, either way, it must work on its own, and display a clear structure.

Good luck!

Your piece must be posted by midnight on Saturday 4th April.

Your moderators will then have TWO weeks in which to comment, before the first task of the summer term on 19th April.

Englishguru Analysis 2: eternity.forever. (Task 38)

Don’t Turn Around

Don’t turn around.
She read the words again, counting to five as she did so. Then she pressed send.

This is a brilliant opening, with a perfect balance between what we don't know (i.e. who 'she' is, who is the recipient, what lies behind the warning) and what we do (i.e. she is nervous, double-checking the message and "counting to five" before sending it). I am instantly intrigued and want to read on and fill the gaps.

Phillips walks up to me.

I really like the sudden and dramatic shift here - from 3rd person to 1st person, and from past tense to present tense. Having been sucked in by the enigma of the opening, this throws us right into the centre of events.

“Evening, boss.”
“Good day?” I gave him a friendly punch in the shoulder in return for his smile.
“Not really. Chief made me sort out his office whilst she,” He indicated at Jennifer. “And himself went through this month’s budget.” I grinned.

I like the contrast between the two characters' interactions: a punch for a smile. But there are a couple of problems with this section. Firstly, you seem to have slipped right back into the past tense, which is confusing. And, secondly, the syntax and punctuation of the last couple of sentences needs revision, as it is somewhat clumsy at the moment. Your 'aside' ("he indicated at Jennifer") does not need to be a separate sentence, and can just be wrapped in commas; and I am often unhappy with the way in which students use "himself" (or "herself"). How about: "Not really. Chief made me sort out his office whilst she," he indicated at Jennifer, "went through this month's budget with him."

“What’s going on then? Chief sounded anxious on the phone.” My hair was still wet from the shower I had fifteen minutes ago.
“Two kids were found in the alleyway back there.” He turned around and pointed at the cornered off area. I nodded.
“Any witnesses?”
“None yet.”
“Forensics here?”
“They will be. But road works are keeping them up.”
“Can I go through?”
“I don’t see why not. You are my boss after all.” Phillips winked cheekily and walked me up to the crime scene tape. I turned around quickly.
“You holding up, kid? You look a little rough.”
“I’m fine, thank you. Do you want me to get you one?” He waved the extra large cup of coffee in his right hand, and I nodded with gratitude. What an amazing kid.

This is excellent and, above all, convincing, quick-fire dialogue. I like the fact that there is virtually no narrative, and, when there is, it is on seemingly secondary details like the wet hair or the large cup of coffee. As a reader, we get a number of things from all this: that there is an element of routine to it all; that the two officers are used to working together; that they have been called to the scene when they would rather be at home (I assume, from the coffee and the wet hair, in fact, that they would rather be asleep!). And "What an amazing kid" at the end communicates so much about the speaker, and about his relationship with Phillips, with just as much economy as the rest of the piece so far.

Charlie was already hovering above the corpses, trying to peer into the contents of the dead girls’ bag – with little success, mind you.
“Well, look who we have here.” I stood with my arms folded, looking smug.
His head spun around, quick as a bullet, before his smile lit up the gloomy alleyway.
“Davie boy, it’s been a long time. Heard it was your day off?”
“It was, until Halloween got to these two.” My chin pointed to the bodies.
“Yeah, shame. Young things. Remember when we were the hooligans?” He smiled.
“I wish I could forget.” I smiled back. He gave me a brotherly hug, his big build crushing my lungs.
“Ah, sorry mate, I’m like a giant, I am. Handshake?”
I shook his fat right hand.

Again, another economic conversation, but a very different relationship. I am very impressed by the way you manage to cram so much character into a small section of dialogue with limited narrative. Little details, like the fact that Charlie "hovers" over the bodies and Davie shakes his "fat right hand", and the 'smugness' of Davie pointing at the bodies only with his "chin" - these all contribute to the authenticity of the piece, a crucial ingredient of much of the best crime fiction.

Something clattered lower down in the alleyway – it took us seconds to sprint towards it.
“What was that?” Charlie whispered. I shushed him and walked over to a graffiti layered wall, riddled with colour and crumbling with age. Two bins lay knocked over at its base.
Behind the bins was a partial opening; I took out the pen torch from my jacket and climbed through. Dust caressed my skin as I walked deeper into what seemed to be a basement.

After all the dialogue, the noise in the alleyway comes as a very effective shock. I like the description of the wall too: "riddled with colour and crumbling with age". Excellent. There is something really powerful about the personification of the dust too, and it makes the reader share the experience.

My Blackberry vibrated in my trouser pocket. 1 new message.
I opened it. The three words were simple enough, something that I wouldn’t have done instinctively if I hadn’t been a police officer.
Don’t turn around.
I turned around.

I like the short sentences here, which build the tension skilfully. The double negative of the longer sentence is a little confusing though, and the effort the reader has to make to work it out deflects from the potential power of the final couplet: "something that I wouldn't have done instinctively if I hadn't been a police officer". I am still a little confused, to be honest. However, the return to the email message from the start is expertly done, and the cliffhanger brilliantly executed. Well done.

All in all, I thought this was a very effective piece, made stronger by your economical prose and dialogue. I think the ending needs a little bit of revision, and I would still have kept the main body in the Present Tense myself - but you have clearly been taught well by your own crime fiction reading, and your adept grasp of the genre shines through throughout. :)

Payback

Part one

I have chosen Knots and Crosses by Ian Rankin because I felt that it was the most effective. I found it clever that the whole piece was around on letter and it kind of reminded me of the Jack the Ripper case and the police not having a clue about who sent the letters. I would like to adopt this technique into my own writing because I feel that having a simple object at the centre of everything is effective in creating suspense in the air. I also like the fact that the letters that are sent are identical with the “exact same message” and the police know that it comes with a “string” and is from the “same bloke” because this creates a case and a criminal out of a simple thing like a letter. Even though the ‘criminal’ is kind of telling the police that “THERE ARE CLUES EVERYWHERE” you get the idea that the person writing the letters is taking the mick out of the police and this works Rebus up because it was confusing to him. Ending it at “Then the phone rang” makes us want to read on because it’s like the answer to everything is on the other end of the phone.

Part two

“Hello, is it me you’re looking for…catch me if you can.” She read it over and over again but it seemed that every time she read it confused her more and more. Every week at the same time she kept getting these weird messages alongside a bunch of flowers –red roses, she hated them.
“Hiya…oh another message?” It was Angie, her work colleague.
“Yeah.”
“Still no idea who it’s from?”
“If I did do you think that I’d be sitting here staring at it…sorry…it’s just...”
“It’s okay; I’ll leave you to it”
She wanted to stop her. Tell her to come back but she knew that she would get to hear his voice. It was usually about half an hour after she would get to work and receive the flowers that he would call her. She would hear his voice and try to figure out who he was. Not that easy. For the last five times he has been doing it she was no closer to finding out who he was and why.
Was he an ex boyfriend? A friend trying to scare her? Who? And most importantly why? What had she done?
Before she could contemplate any longer the phone rang. After a two minute conversation she found that she completely recognised the voice. That voice belonged to Him.

The kidnapper

Part 1 knots and crosses.

I liked knots and crosses because it started with the action straight away as they said “Who brought this in, Mac?” he brought me into the story and just made me carry on and on. I never did wanted it to stop, he also had great description in his writing



Part 2 The Kidnapper

Peter was fourteen years of age, he was a man of great size, he was like the so called tough chivalrous boy, but on the other he was a sympathetic young lad with a soft heart. He had wavy blonde hair with black streaks. Peter was wearing a green wooly jumper, with brown jeans.

On a cool mid summers evening in Essex, Peter was on his way from his aunties house.
As he was making his way home Peter was suspicious of the whereabouts and he felt something atrocious had happened. He was eager to find what the issue was. If Peter was
Lucky enough to find a piece of evidence it would have been great, indeed it was. He found a brief letter of a random young kid that would be kidnapped, the most useful description was the name of the suspect.

Peter woke up determined to solve this, even though he was at the age of fourteen, the age might not have mattered but he had the love and care, he was on his way to police station to hand in the piece of evidence, when he arrived and gave in the letter, they were delighted to hear about this, as they knew themselves about had been going on.

The police were on the case, they had took the letter to the forensics were they found finger prints and DNA , they found out the information of were he lives. The next morning they were on the move hunting him down, they knocked on the door put the man to the floor hand cuffs around his arms, and searched the room were the young boy was wrapped around with a rope, the boy was flooded with tears, the boy was taken back to the police station, as the kidnapper was taken into custody and on his way to court to be charged a long sentence.

It's hard to believe..

Part 1
My favorite excerpt was the one from 'End in Tears' by Ruth Rendell because I thought that it used the show and not tell technique very well. I also liked the twist in the end; I believe that it was what made the excerpt so powerful. All the while I was reading I thought that the man was waiting for the woman to speak to her or something, but then it ended up him trying to kill her. That to me was just unexpected. I don't really have a detailed explanation for why I liked it so much; it was more because it jumped out and grabbed me then me trying to come to grasp with its qualities.
Part 2

I was there more confused than ever. It couldn’t be her. She couldn’t be dead. I spoke to her only yesterday that she told me she was going to meet her future soul mate. She was planning her wedding with him; this couldn’t be happening. No. It was a dream I was going to wake up any minute now and find that she was my next case. I never thought I would have to mix my social and work life together; I guess life is not always as you planned it out to be.

So I was there in complete shock in the room with the only person left that I trusted now at my feet, and covered in blood. She had a necklace pattern planted in her skin, shed always loved necklaces I didn’t know that it would even go for her death. She had slits in her arm which made sure that every spot of the floor was red. They were finely cut so that each piece of flesh on either side was smooth.

I took out my note book and started to record what I saw; before realizing that everyone around me was looking at my every move. So I told them each to get on with their work and to let me get on with mine. I wrote down exact descriptions of the crime scene as painful as it was. It wasn’t until then did I notice the smell, a tangy smell; I guessed straight away what it was but when I did I wish ed I hadn’t. It was bad enough seeing my best friend on the floor in front of me and everyone around me, but for her to have actually pissed it was too embarrassing in front everyone; despite the fact that she was dead.

And that was how my last case started. Finding my only full time friend on the floor dead. That was something I would never have imagined to have to cope with that as part of the CSI, but I guess that was another misjudgment on my behalf.

Crime Fiction

Task 1: one good turn by kate atkinson

i think this piece works well as it lulls the reader by describing this feeble character but as you know this is crime fiction, you expect something ominous to take place and although not entirely gruesome or described in much detail,it still manages to shock whilst also being comical ('he was the kind of person who ducked when a ball was thrown in his direction').i also like the way everything is described in such simple terms and proves you dont have to rely on vivid imagery.




Task 2: my piece....
The gentle breeze caresses my neck, waking me from my sleep, still dazed from last nights events yet not concerned with making this mess any clearer. Just then a light filtrates the single window in my room, glancing across all my possessions; the chair, the bed, the toilet, the basin and a souvenir of my mother. I pick it up and study it, occasionally dusting the top and in that moment, I suddenly wondered what it felt to die. Many experience it but none live to tell the tale, like a Sunday roast with great aunt Julie only this time it is visibly served on a plate accompanied by two over-cooked potatoes, lumpy gravy and broccoli which could break your teeth. Dad, Frank and Ian have all experienced it; in very different ways, but dead all the same. And we can’t forget mum. She died in the most painful way out of the four, but if I were her I’d be grateful, I mean how boring must it be to go to sleep and never wake up, or get shot and feel all your nerves begin to spasm? I’d much rather have had someone sever my neck with their fingernails, paying close attention to my jugular vein. Now that’s a way go!I was twelve when mum died, a happy and well-adjusted child considering my dad and two brothers had left the year before. I remember it as though it were this morning, then again its not something I’m likely to forget

* * * *

Rising from my front row seat, I opened the wardrobe door and my mothers face resembled that of a child just been told that Santa doesn’t exist. Her eyes began to fade further into her head, as her lids slowly began to shut. Although she was dead, my job felt slightly incomplete as she still looked happy, so I began to work on her head, slowly clawing away at her flesh of her neck with my fingernails, occasionally scraping the skin cells from underneath to get a deeper cut. After an hour of continuous scratching and digging I could see her trachea, which strangely resembled a hollow sausage. It was at this point I heard the sirens, quietly at first but then it got louder and began to call me and I knew my work was done and pocketed my souvenir. It was a sign.The police and ambulance arrived at the same time, like two uncles competing for the attention of their favourite nephew and in the mist of this, a fat, balding officer ran out of the house and emptied the contents of his stomach on the pavement; a few take-away curries and a full English now lay splattered across the cold stone outside my house. This puzzled me. Surely my mum wasn’t that ugly, not to a guy who had probably seen more cooked meats than Gordon Ramsey. The nice police lady escorted me to the car, still not aware that it was me who was responsible for the blood splattered walls in my mums room owing to my fantastic performance; a double bluff: a distraught youngster whilst also appearing slightly guilty. It was so perfect!Sitting in my cell, I gaze into my mothers eyes. They glare at me and I gaze back smiling at my work.They are still fresh from yesterday, and I feel I have received justice. I mean most youngsters would spend their 13th birthday going paintballing or ice-skating not massacring their mother. Perhaps next time I ask for a bike, she will listen.

My Very Own Crime Fiction - Task 38

Part 1
End in Tears by Ruth Rendell

I thought this piece of writing was the most effective because this crime extract had the best descriptive, thought provoking writing than the other four.

This crime extract made me feel like I was in it and I was there listening and answering these basic questions, e.g. He closed his hand over the mobile in his pocket, worried because it hadn’t rung. Then it rang.
‘Yes?’
‘She’s left. You want the number again?’
‘I’ve got it. A silver Honda.’
‘Right.’
‘A silver Honda. Should be along in four minutes.’

The author wanted to leave you guessing what’s going to happen and make you want to read the whole book.


Part 2
The Burglary

There was a loud hysterical unfamiliar knock on the door which woke me up from that nightmare I was having about a burglary I got up quickly, panicking thinking who would come to my flat at this time of night. “Who is and what do you want?” I whispered .I opened the door, peaking to see who it is and there… this man in an all black outfit from head to toe was there with a bag full of goods in his filthy hands. “Give me your money” said the vicious, angry man. I responded gently in a scared voice saying “Leave me alone or else I’ll be dialling 999”.
At that exact moment the man rushed passed the door and ran in to my flat, “HELP! HELP! HELP” I squealed repeatedly as if it was a siren. The man helped himself to all my belongings and replied with “Shut your mouth you stupid lady or you’ll be dead”. He grabbed me and strangled me and asked for a rope and guess what, there I was mumbling “help!” and crying because I was tied up several times to a wooden chair and I couldn’t breathe.

The man had broken into my safe and stole the money which I was going to use for university next year. Then there was another loud knock on the door. “Are you done have you have you got all the gold and money, ahahaha!” exclaimed a strange man from outside, very selfishly and loud. The man warned me if I told the police he and his mate would give me another mind blowing disturbed visit which eventually shut me up. The man ran out of my flat giggling away like it was funny joke.

There was bright shining light of the sun from outside the window, was making me cringe. I could hear neighbours children moaning and groaning to not wake up. But still there I was stranded in my very own float waiting for someone to help me.