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Year 11 Homework - Writing Assessments

Here are the key points to the on-going Year 11 Homework.

You are going to be asked to write two contrasting pieces: one fiction and one non-fiction as part of your on-going GCSE controlled assessments.

Your fiction piece is going to be a recreation from a poem of your choice (two poems also suggested below), which means you need to use the poem as inspiration.

This could be:

1) Use some lines of the poem to build a new story around.
2) Explore the theme of the poem in a story of your choice.
3) Evoke the atmosphere of the poem in your own writing.
4) Modernise the poem creating your own story.

Just let me say now - YOU ARE NOT WRITING YOUR OWN POEM.

The homework for this unit of work involves you writing 100 words per week based on a poem of your choice. This does not have to relate to your final piece, this does not have to be a complete story and this does not have to be perfect.

You may choose to write the opening or describe the setting, or write some sections of dialogue or describe a key event or write the ending. The key is that you write.

The homework is necessary because like everything, writing takes practice. Writers re-draft and re-draft down to the most minute word or sentence until they are happy.

You need to practice so you can develop your own style, the rhythm of writing and so you can make mistakes.

All through last year when we were studying literature, you were reading as a writer (you read looking specifically at the writer's craft). Now it is key that you write as a reader (everything you write should be deliberate in order to influence the reader).

Here is a key diagram to help you:



Every Wednesday, you are expected to bring in your writing to present to the class for suggestions and praise.

The poems covered in class are below but you can choose any poem you wish:


Spellbound

  by Emily Brontë
The night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow;
But a tyrant spell has bound me
And I cannot, cannot go.

The giant trees are bending
Their bare boughs weighed with snow.
And the storm is fast descending,
And yet I cannot go.

Clouds beyond clouds above me,
Wastes beyond wastes below;
But nothing drear can move me;
I will not, cannot go.
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16632#sthash.TEtsRmRK.dpuf

The poem Spellbound by Emily Bronte
 
The night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow;
But a tyrant spell has bound me
And I cannot, cannot go.

The giant trees are bending
Their bare boughs weighed with snow.
And the storm is fast descending,
And yet I cannot go.

Clouds beyond clouds above me,
Wastes beyond wastes below;
But nothing drear can move me;
I will not, cannot go.

Spellbound

  by Emily Brontë
The night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow;
But a tyrant spell has bound me
And I cannot, cannot go.

The giant trees are bending
Their bare boughs weighed with snow.
And the storm is fast descending,
And yet I cannot go.

Clouds beyond clouds above me,
Wastes beyond wastes below;
But nothing drear can move me;
I will not, cannot go.
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16632#sthash.TEtsRmRK.dpuf

Spellbound

  by Emily Brontë
The night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow;
But a tyrant spell has bound me
And I cannot, cannot go.

The giant trees are bending
Their bare boughs weighed with snow.
And the storm is fast descending,
And yet I cannot go.

Clouds beyond clouds above me,
Wastes beyond wastes below;
But nothing drear can move me;
I will not, cannot go.
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16632#sthash.TEtsRmRK.dpuf

Spellbound

  by Emily Brontë
The night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow;
But a tyrant spell has bound me
And I cannot, cannot go.

The giant trees are bending
Their bare boughs weighed with snow.
And the storm is fast descending,
And yet I cannot go.

Clouds beyond clouds above me,
Wastes beyond wastes below;
But nothing drear can move me;
I will not, cannot go.
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16632#sthash.TEtsRmRK.dpuf

Eyes Look Into The Well

Eyes look into the well,
Tears run down from the eye;
The tower cracked and fell
From the quiet winter sky.

Under a midnight stone
Love was buried by thieves;
The robbed heart begs for a bone,
The damned rustle like leaves.

Face down in the flooded brook
With nothing more to say.
Lies One the soldiers took,
And spoiled and threw away.
 
W.H Auden 

You must bring the homework in typed or written neatly on a piece of paper. I will not accept scrappy bits of paper done on the bus. 
 
The purpose of this homework is to practice writing. If it is done on the bus or at the last minute in school then you have not given the task enough thought and wasted the opportunity to truly improve your skills.
 
Happy Writing!
 
Mr Milne



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+ comments + 3 comments

Anonymous
24 September 2013 at 20:25

This is it Sir :) Could you tell me where I could improve?

  Our differences didn't matter. We would be punished - for something we didn't do.
The outstretched stars, so close together, seemed forlorn, yet they created an everlasting, hypnotising image of the godforsaken, moonlit sky.

  A part of me knew, this would be the last time I'd witness... Anything.

  It was too late now.
  
  Too late to apologise; too late to run. We ware all dispirited, downhearted, we didn't have the will and courage to go on. The last speck of hope dispersed with their return.
  
  We had nowhere to go, the ropes ware like chains impossible to break out of. They immobilised us. Held us. We were their prisoners!
  
  I struggled to move; the only thing I managed to do was to look up - and even that caused so much and yet so little fortitude. As I slowly raised my head I noticed a foreign looking figure. The night darkened round me as his shadow drowned me. It was as if all of a sudden the moonlit sky hid its trove behind him.
  
  He was so close - and yet it seemed as if he was secluded. Solitary. Alone. The emptiness in his eyes battled with the lustre of his short, rough-looking hair. He could probably finish me off with a single blow but he just stood there. As if he was trying to hypnotise me with his lifelessness.
  
  We could barely see anything with the new shadowy figures approaching. But they did it in a significant way. They surrounded us just like hyenas would surround their vulnerable pray, circling it before they'd start their assault.
  
  "How did I get into this mess?"
  
  (It was a question I kept asking myself). So many questions went through my head: Where was I? How did I get there? I wasn't sure anymore. All I knew was that I couldn't get out of there. Everything around me besieged me. Wild winds blew coldly. The godforsaken sky abandoned me.
  
  It was as if he took everything form me.
  
  Survive.
  
  Would I survive? Whispers in my head tormented me. The whispers were demons stuck inside my head. They agonized me. They brought excruciating pain. Cold streams of sweat slithered down my back. The hands, tied behind my back were so clammy they could probably slide out of the chain-like ropes. But there was no point in trying. I would be killed if I resisted. Trying to escape would be hopeless.

Oskar Polanski

24 September 2013 at 21:04

You have some very nice turns of phrase in here and a real control to your writing.

I would target some accuracy

For exam your Too late repetition is nice but all three sentences (including the paragraph above) should be together joined with colons.

You also have a couple of typos - ware should be were and form should be from.

The use of brackets would be better on the same line as the question as they are linked.

This line doesn't quite make sense:

'the only thing I managed to do was to look up - and even that caused so much and yet so little fortitude'

I think you need a word after much (caused so much pain) and I'm not sure if fortitude (strength / determination) is what you were looking at.

You have some lovely imagery and it is now just about tightening up the nuts and bolts of your writing.

Your use of ellipsis would be more effective as a dash - try to keep ellipsis for the end of paragraphs.

Anonymous
24 September 2013 at 21:38

THE BEST STORY EVER BY THE BEST STUDENT.
I have never been a fan of movies, yet im so inclined how the life drains from her eyes. Horror movies generate fear from the suspense that has been created from the music and atmosphere. “Without music horror movies are not scary” I can recall my media teacher droning on. In certain aspects she’s right, maybe it’s a bit callous of me but how can you fear something that poses a threat to an unknown stranger..

His shadow swiftly stalks her, the outline depicting a tall, stocky predator. His prey obliviously strolls beneath a street lamp unaware of the mousy hair that’s lit up behind her and menacing brown eyes piercing the back of her skull. She pulls up the hood of her coat due to the early morning chill, the blue hue draws away from the mundane black uniform. He taps her shoulder only to be startled as her body turns to lock the sapphire eyes to his gaze. Some inaudible words are exchanged between the two; she finishes by flashes him a meek smile and pointing in the direction of the local post office. The tragic flaw of the un-suspecting lamb is her naivety, now to wait for the final blow. Like miss says “horror movies are typical and easy to predict”, and this certainly is not an exception to such rule. She cripples to the horrendous grip he forces upon her, as she begins to hyperventilate taking breaths at an excruciating pace. She surrenders helplessly to the tyrant spell that has bound her.

What I have just witnessed Is something I never wish to repeat. All I know is that the victim is left there in smokers ally; lonely, lifeless, limp and helpless. She slowly bleeds out to the darkness surrounding her, patiently she lays as I stare into her eyes seeking her soul. Waiting for a passer to discover this nightmare, my heart wills her to live! The more I stare the more familiar she becomes, a reflection of myself… It dawns upon me that I was the victim. I have no recollection of these memories. They must have been lost in transition. I am the one who was so painfully stolen away from their family that day. I am the one whose parents sat in silence as they uncovered everyone’s feared nightmare.

Isn’t everyone warned of the danger of talking to strangers? How could I be so stupid to immerse myself into a ridiculous situation? I left my family. Everyone that mattered the most. Giving up so effortlessly like the selfish person I am. No tears will you see break the barrier my mind has built within. Only for the reason that I came to the realization the day I passed away revealing heaven to contrast into my forte. Everything appears so positively imitated to the extent I disregard the eerie chill that engulfs me into the world everyone fears. Heaven. Or is it hell?


Kelsie Routs Routs

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