Diagnostic Essay There was a time that I loved creative writing‚ and even one day‚ with the insistence of my mother‚ planned to write my memoirs. In the inscription in my Webster’s Dictionary that I received in my 10th year‚ my grandfather wrote‚ “3-16-94 this book is dedicated to Anna and her hope to become famous as a writer.” I loved everything about writing: the word play‚ the endless possibilities‚ the absolute creative freedom‚ the thrill of making others feel. I not only took my characters
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WL 2b Creative Writing The ending of Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s Chronicle of a Death Foretold ends abruptly where the protagonist‚ Santiago Nasar‚ falls on his face in the kitchen of his own home‚ dead. There are still many untold details the reader may be wondering about that needs to be demystified‚ such as the real culprit for taking Angela Vicario’s virginity. In an attempt to satisfy most of the readers’ curiosity‚ the following diary of Angela Vicario‚ the dishonored bride‚ has been uncovered
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Creative Writing: Siege of Yorktown It was four o’clock in the morning when my commanding officer awoke me and we were ordered to prepare to march. We had set up an extensive camp at Chatham in New York‚ we all believed that we would attack New York City. It turned out that we were marching on towards Yorktown. When we arrived at Yorktown the bay was full of French ships. Our army along with the French encircled Cornwallis. Cornwallis did not surrender‚ he waited for a larger British fleet
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Creative Writing: Hackers Manifesto Another one got caught today‚ it’s all over the papers. "Teenager Arrested in Computer Crime Scandal"‚ "Hacker Arrested after Bank Tampering"... Damn kids. They’re all alike. But did you‚ in your three-piece psychology and 1950’s technobrain‚ ever take a look behind the eyes of the hacker? Did you ever wonder what made him tick‚ what forces shaped him‚ what may have molded him? I am a hacker‚ enter my world... Mine is a world that begins with school... I’m smarter
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ENGLISH CREATIVE WRITING I am outside the door. Still. I closed the door on the old world of me‚ the dark side of me. Life as a drug dealer. You get in quick and you get out quick. Simple enough isn’t it? No. Once you choose a direction in life‚ it’s hard‚ and can often seem impossible to change. Especially in the world of drugs. I feel like I have let everyone I ever knew down‚ but it was for my own good. Yeah the money is fantastic‚ but what good’s money when you’re in the joint for the
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Imaginative‚ Creative Writing Planning: * First time drinking ( peer pressure) * Party with her friend ( Adriana) * Recount on what happened on the night. Narrative: Sometimes people choose to try things for the first time because they want to or they like trying new things or they are forced to. It was the day I was always waiting for‚ my first ever 9th grade party. I was so thrilled that the person even invited me‚ only the ‘cool’ people were invited to huge parties and well
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Creative Writing 1/29/13 8th Grade Fatima Hassan I was on a plane headed to a SMALL town TO visit my friend. The flight was running SMOOTHLY until a disaster happened. I wasn’t alarmed by my senses at first‚ but what I felt was a BURST of pressure. I felt AGHAST and had a PREMONITION that something BAD was happening. The pressure that I was feeling came TO a stop‚ AND then I became unconscious. I regained my consciousness‚ and my eyes started TO open. I felt a bit confused‚ BUT I had realized
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location may present us with the perception that we either belong or not belong however‚ it is the connections that we form with people in places‚ memories of previous places and ones response to experiences within places that heightens ones sense of belonging or alienation. The concept of belonging through connections with people‚ experiences and memories in certain places is explored in the texts Romulus my Father a memoir by Raimond Gaita and Oranges and Sunshine directed by Jim Loach. It is not a connection
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Creative Writing: Destroying Racism As the snow covered the house that my grandma occupies‚ I looked out the window to the neighbor’s front door‚ their mailbox‚ and the circular driveway they had. It was just another home‚ where kids could build a snowman or throw snowballs on the front lawn. But there where no children or snowmen here. And beneath the snow‚ the word "N-I-G-G-E-R" was written in the grass. A family- a home- where they had bothered no one. One night someone decided to take weed
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to paint again. *** When I was a little girl‚ my mother taught me how to bake. I would pull a chair close to the counter and she would tie a flower patterned apron around my waist. "When you bake‚ you have to remember mise en place! That means ’everything in it’s place’. Make sure you have all of your ingredients and tools ready. Don’t forget to read the recipe first!" She smiled at me and took the bowl when my arms got tired from mixing‚ but she let me lick the spoon
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