Search This Blog

Showing posts with label College Course. Show all posts
Showing posts with label College Course. Show all posts

5/13/2008

College Guff Update...

Just to keep you happy here's the rewrites of my college work. The differences are subtle but I agree with my tutor that shortening some of the sentences adds to the quality of the writing.

The original passages can be found by clicking here.


****************************

Setting.

1.
The nursery was filled with toys of all shapes and sizes. A large rainbow mural was painted on the sky blue walls. A half finished puzzle lay on the floor. A shining metal robot was catching the rays of the morning sun that streamed through the bay windows. A child of unknown age was playing in the large walled garden. Screams and whoops of joy carried on the wind.

2.
The air in most of the rooms of the house was so cold anyone going in them would be able to see their breath. Not that anyone ever went in them. The heating worked but it cost too much so Margaret-Anne mostly lived in the heated room above the kitchens of the hotel below.
Her only company these days was the mouldy furred feline that was known as “Mrs Snookums” and the television presenters that she talked to occasionally. Long gone were the endless parties of her youth when she was the focal point of many village gatherings where her dance card was never empty.

3.
They called it The Bends. It was nothing more than an abandoned railway station to the local adults but to us kids it was the only place to hang out. There was an old bridge to shelter under when it rained and plenty of places to hide the cigarettes you couldn‘t take home because of nosey brothers, sisters or parents. At weekends there was cider and cheap vodka and anyone could get a hold of weed if they asked the right people.
Not everyone that went there went for the drinking and smoking; some simply went because there was nowhere else to go. The community centre had been closed by the council for health and safety reasons and the village hall was where pensioners played 10p bingo and chased the dream of winning the raffle.

4.
The slats of the blinds that hung over the windows created a disconcerting effect to anyone who entered. The large antique desk, with its heavily polished wood and well worn green leather inlay, was also a formidable barrier between the bank manager and anyone who was called into the office.
The surroundings were only softened by the bank manager himself. He was a portly man with a slightly receding hairline and a jolly demeanour that always shone through the well cut suits that he wore.

5.
The small villa, with its picturesque views over the bay, was the perfect place to forget. It immediately felt like the kind of place where she could empty her mind and not spend her time thinking of him. Within minutes of the taxi dropping her off her memory had stopped tormenting her and a sense of calm flowed through her.
The knowledge of his indiscretion was still in her mind but the sound of the waves lapping on the shore beat back the little voice with their gentle susurration. This was surely somewhere she could centre herself and think about her future.

Character.

Sophia sat on the balcony, drinking a cup of jasmine tea and watching the large rollers make their way towards the shore. It had been two months since she first arrived but the pain was still as fresh in her mind as it had been the moment she had found out about Simon and his secretary.
Sheltered from the baking sun beneath the overhang of the balcony roof she pondered how she had arrived at this point in her life.
After leaving high school with very few qualifications she realised that a good education was the key to a better life and had enrolled in college where she took a course in economics and accounting. Working two jobs to pay for her education had been difficult but nowhere near as difficult as putting up with the harassment from her manager.

****************************

POV 1. Mother.

The letter from the school was the standard kind, typed, but with names written in black biro. “Dear Miss Sommers,” It read. “Please can you attend school next Monday to discuss Your son.”
I spoke to Sean as soon as he came home that night but he claimed that he knew nothing about it. I didn’t believe him. Sean was a “troubled child” according to the school psychologist who spoke to Sean after my husband and I split up.
I was worried that maybe Sean had gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd and had stumbled into drug use or had taken to drinking cheap cider down at the bends with the local teenage tearaways. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

POV 2. Son.

I hadn’t been in the house five seconds when The Gorgon balled up the stairs that she wanted to talk to me. I balled for her to go and fuck herself but she didn’t take the hint. It turned out she’d got a letter from my school asking her to come in to see the teacher about something.
I lay awake all night trying to figure out what the school wanted to see the Wicked Witch of the West for but I couldn’t think what it was about. Christ only knew what it was about, and he wasn’t talking.


POV 3. Teacher.

It was clear from early on that Sean hadn’t taken the divorce of his parents well. He retreated into his shell and became more introverted than he had been before the split of Judie and Brian.
Sean was a bright enough kid, he just needed a bit of guidance when it came to what he wanted to do when he left school. He and I had spoken and he voiced the fear that he had no idea what he wanted to do for a career.
I asked what he was interested in and found out that he’d always been interested in drama. I made a few enquiries, pulled a few strings, asked a favour of an old friend from teacher training college and managed to get him a place at a drama school in London. I wasn’t sure what Judie's reaction would be, given that I could be considered to be interfering. To my surprise she leapt out of her seat and hugged me. Sean was as delighted as she was.

****************************

[1]

The butterflies in his stomach had initially bearable but now, with less than ten until they were due to meet, they had joined the red arrows and were practising their loop the loops. His heart seemed like it was trying to make a break for freedom and his palms were damp and sticky.
He was puzzled as to why he felt so anxious about meeting her, they had known each other since they were children. Perhaps it was because this was the first time they were going out on “a date.” Sure, they met up for drinks on occasion and had a regular movie night where they stocked up on junk food and spent the night watching old classics but they had never been romantically inclined towards each other. Until now anyway.
His mother had been ecstatic when he let it slip that they were going out on a date. She had always harboured a not-so-secret desire that they would one day marry and provide her with grandchildren to dote over. His father hadn’t been quite so pleased.
When his father was younger he had dated her mother. He never got much further than hurried kisses in the chummy seats of the old picture house, itself derelict and crumbling like his fathers hopes and dreams.
He could see the heartache hidden in his fathers eyes whenever her mother came over to visit and was determined that this would never be a look he would adopt. So he took the chance and asked her to meet him here.

[2]

She felt old. Her baby boy was a man now with children of his own and a new job far away. It seemed like only yesterday that she was bathing him, changing his nappy and kissing his scuffed knees better. Now though, sitting with a cold coffee in her hand she tried to think of something to say to let him know she was never more than a phone call away.
Deep in her heart though she knew he was too stubborn to accept advice of any kind and if things did go wrong with his new job he would quickly and quietly deal with it without her help. He was his fathers son in that respect.
Her husband John had died many years ago in an accident at the factory where he worked as a sheet metal worker. Whenever she looked at her son she was reminded of him. Right now in this moment she felt as though she was saying goodbye to him all over again. The only difference as she saw it was that this time the container taking her loved one away wasn’t a coffin but an aircraft.
A static laden voice announced over the tannoy that his flight was delayed. For the first time in her life she was grateful to the French.

4/24/2008

The wanderer returns...

To let you all know how things are going in the life of me.

I have a £30 phone bill that needs paying asap. (Christ only knows how it's as much as that, I never phone anyone. Line rental? Don't get me started.)

Scottish power have begun threatening me with a visit to discuss payment of their outstanding bill. (And we all know that Scottish Power is facing financial ruin if I don't pay my bill as soon as it lands on my doorstep. They only made roughly £600 million in profit in 2006 so I imagine 2007 was a lean year for them.)

The council are chasing me for £50 in unpaid rent. Another one that puzzles me. My rent is paid BY the government TO the government and yet they still screw it up. (Must be short a few million due to the overspending on the Scottish parliament building and the tram system that is being put into place as I type. Which, by the way is massively overpriced, useless as far as travel anywhere outside the city centre is concerned and extremely unnecessary. Oh yeah and it's going to turn out to be another cock up as it'll spiral out of control and end up costing three times as much as we were initially told it would.)

But on the sunnier side of things I'm not too far from finishing my college course (I have one more section to finish and possibly a rewrite or two and that's that done.) I'm off to Florida on a family holiday next month and I'm a ball hair off of being back in full time employment.

Apart from that it's all pretty much same shit different day.

2/16/2008

As you asked...

Here's the creative writing gig nonsense...

**************

(This first exercise was to rewrite a passage on a character named Dennis, a likeable pupil in a classroom, in a negative light.)

Away from school, in the pub most of the teachers called him Dennis the Menace.
More often than not I simply called him “You boy.”
“You boy, come here at once…
“You boy, no running…
“You boy, are in serious trouble…
“You boy, will amount to nothing in life…

On one occasion I had threatened to call him an ambulance to take him home. The cheeky little sot merely pointed out that an ambulance wasn’t the kind of vehicle likely to take someone home. “Rather more likely to take me to a hospital I’d say.” He quipped, to the amusement of his classmates.

I couldn’t stand the petulant little fart but in less than two years he would be gone from my life forever more and I would be rid of him. Of course, there would always be a Dennis of some sort to deal with. Their names may be different but on the inside they were all fundamentally Dennis.

On my first day at the school I had been warned about Dennis by a couple of the other teachers but I laughed it off and said no child would ever get the better of me. How wrong I was, I had no idea.

Initially I put Dennis’ anti social behaviour down to a lack of self confidence, bravado is often the camouflage of the timid, and attempted to correct this through careful nurturing and guidance. Later I realised that my labour was in vain and that occasionally you had to let them go or the rest of the class suffered. Teaching could be cruel like that sometimes.

At first it seemed like I was getting through to him, he was attentive and engaged whenever I took the time to talk with him, but I was soon to learn that Dennis was a breed apart and had merely used the time to garner information about me that he could use as ammunition if he ever needed it.

When the joyous day of Dennis’ departure from the school came little did I realise he would become the benchmark by which I measured a pupils teach-ability. I found myself rating students on a scale, as a scientist measures the viscosity of a substance, so I measured petulant pupils by their Denniscosity.

**************

The following exercise involved coming up with character names, one serious one not so serious.

[1] Names of characters.

1. (An old lady born 1920's) Lady Hill - Margaret-Anne
2. (An old man born 1930's) Norman Fielding - Friendly Fielding
3. (A poodle) Frenchie - Master Françoise
4. (A German Shepherd) Prince - Teeth
5. (A weak, mother dominated man) Jason Simm - Sympathy Simm
6. (A strong bossy woman) Maureen McCain - Mother Mo McCain
7. (A strict teacher) Mrs Cloquet - Coquette Cloquet
8. (The perfect heroine) Sophia Jansen - SJ
9. (The imperfect hero) John Grant - Diesel Grant
10. (A newspaper seller) Andrew Willard - Andy W


**************

This exercise was to write a first paragraph for certain settings.

Setting.

1. (Happy, contented children)

The nursery was filled with toys of all shapes and sizes. A large rainbow mural was painted on the sky blue walls. A half finished puzzle lay on the floor next to a shining metal robot that was catching the rays of the morning sun that streamed through the bay windows, overlooking the large walled garden.

2. (Elderly, lonely spinster)

The air in most of the rooms of the house was so cold that anyone going in them would be able to see their breath; Not that anyone ever went in them. The heating worked but it cost too much to put on so Margaret-Anne lived in the easily heated room above the kitchens of the hotel below.
Her only company these days was the mouldy furred feline that was known as “Cat” and the television presenters that she talked to occasionally. Long gone were the endless parties of her youth when she was the focal point of many village gatherings where her dance card was never empty.

3. (Teenage boy or girl)

They called it The Bends. It was nothing more than an abandoned railway station to the local adults but to us kids it was the only place to hang out. There was an old bridge to shelter under when it rained and plenty of places to hide your cigarettes if you couldn‘t take them home because of nosey brothers, sisters or parents. At weekends there was enough cider and cheap vodka to sink a battleship and anyone could get a hold of weed if they asked the right people.
Not everyone that went there went for the drinking and smoking, some just went because there was nowhere else to go. The community centre had been closed by the council for health and safety reasons and the village hall was where pensioners played 10p bingo and chased the dream of winning the raffle.

4. (Bank manager at work)

The slats of the blinds that hung over the windows created a disconcerting effect to anyone who entered. The large antique desk, with its heavily polished wood and well worn green leather inlay, was also a formidable barrier between the bank manager and anyone who was called into the office.
The intimidating surroundings of the room were only softened by the bank manager himself. He was a portly man with a slightly receding hairline and a jolly demeanour that always shone through the well cut suits that he wore.

5. (Young woman on holiday alone)

The small villa, with its picturesque views over the bay, was the perfect place to forget. It immediately felt like the kind of place where she could empty her mind and not spend her time thinking of him. Within minutes of the taxi dropping her off at the gates her memory had stopped tormenting her and peace had settled upon her soul.
The knowledge of his indiscretion was still in her mind but the sound of the waves lapping on the shore beat back the little voice with their gentle susurration. This was surely somewhere she could centre herself and think about her future.

**************

This exercise was to write a few paragraphs using a character and a setting of my choosing.


Sophia sat on the balcony, drinking a cup of jasmine tea and watching the large rollers make their way towards the shore. It had been two months since she first arrived but the pain was still as fresh in her mind as it had been the moment she had found out about Simon and his secretary.
Sheltered from the baking sun beneath the overhang of the balcony roof she pondered how she had arrived at this point in her life.
After leaving high school with very few qualifications she realised that a good education was the key to a better life and had enrolled in college where she took a course in economics and accounting. Working two jobs to pay for her education had been difficult but nowhere near as difficult as putting up with the harassment from her manager.
Three years later she graduated with the highest grade in her class and soon after got a job in a local accounting firm. Working her way up through the ranks she soon became a full partner in the firm and was pulling in more than a hundred thousand pounds a year.

**************

This excerise was to come up with connotations.

1. Rolls Royce.

Powerful, Garish, Overbearing, Tacky, Leather, Smooth, Languorous, Red Carpet, Chauffeur, Presidential, Britishness, Prestigious.

2. Coal.

Dirty, Fossilised, Fuel, Hard, Dense, Scuttle, Coalman, Miner, Pit, Shaft, Coal Face, Seam.

3. Fish and Chips.

Greasy, Warm, Salt, Sauce, Newspaper, Windblown, Pickled Onions, Smell, Seaside, Deep Fried, Cod, Haddock, Vinegar, Batter, Crispy.

4. Diamonds.

Hard, Cutting, Luminescent, Attractive, Shiny, Expensive, Tasteless, Hypnotic, Pressure, Carbon, Fake, Cubit Zirconium, Robbery, Koh-I-Noor, Girls Best Friend, Gemstones, Pearlescent, Lustrous, Stars.

5. Net Curtains.

Billowing, Lace, Patterned, Patina, Veil Like, Secretive, Furtive Glances, Nosey Neighbours.

6. Red.

Angry, Embarrassed, Shamed, Ferrari, Intense, Balloon, Heat, Burning, Flame, Violent, Blood, Roses, Vibrant, Vivacious, Danger, Mad, Bloodshot.

7. Blue.

Sky, Cold, Deathly, Insipid, Oceanic, Football Scarves, Water, Police Box, Ribbon, Azure, Sadness, Depression.

8. Coal Fires.

Warm, Hearth, Hale, Comforting, Mantle, Ashes, Coal, Kindling, Soot, Chimney, Heat, Smouldering, Welcoming, Comfortable, Brass Bed Warmers, Cottages, Soothing, Magical.

**************

The following excerise was to write first sentences on the setting provided.

First Sentences.

1. The Golf Club Outing.

Willie was three sheets to the wind before the coach had even left the car park, despite warnings that he was being watched by the club secretary.

2. The Sinister House.

The foreboding look of the house was only heightened by the darkness of the late evening light.

3. The Celebration.

Streamers of every colour hung from the light shades as everyone tried to keep quiet so as not to give the surprise away.

4. Home at Last.

The reassuring squeak of the loose floorboard just inside the door let her know she was finally back in the comfort of her own home.

5. The Land of Plenty.

The grassy fields stretched as far as the eye could see, sweet welcoming fruit hung from the branches of the wild juniper bushes and proud, noble deer frolicked in the long, wild grasslands before them.

**************

And there you have it. The stories so far as it were.

2/08/2008

Update...

Like I mentioned earlier the guff for my creative writing course arrived last Saturday.

Last night I sent off the first assignment to be critiqued by my tutor.

It probably should have taken more than a week to do, given that the timetable set by the college is something like five weeks, but I found it to be easier than I expected and was able to rattle through it at a fair old rate and still make it as good as I could have.

Part two of the course is slightly more challenging but still nowhere near as difficult as I initially thought it would be. In it I am given six topics and have to submit 250 words about two of them to the tutor. But as I am resolved to challenging myself more than the course seems to be I've decided to write 250 words about all of the subjects presented to me, if only for the practise and to keep me writing.

The most interesting thing about the course is that I have evolved into a student type person. I went to the local supermarket and spent more time in the stationary aisle eyeing up pencil cases, trying to decide if I needed a ruler and which notepad I should buy than I did actually doing my shopping.

Should I be worried? Is this the first step on the slippery slope to buying a pen that can write in four different colours, buying a pair of corduroys and metamorphosing into someone who looks like a supply teacher?

I hope not. I've never been a fan of tweed with elbow patches, I think anyone who wears a cravat should be shot and quite frankly I'd look bloody stupid smoking a pipe.