From Writing Good to Writing Well From Darwin to this reflection paper‚ English 121 is a journey on how to write at an academic level. It taught me so much about the Academic Writing Process. I didn’t know what a Thesis was‚ or the format for writing‚ for example; the Creative Title‚ Hook‚ and how to write a great intro. It was also my first exposure to citations and how to correctly cite something. Professor Ridgeway has an ability to really connect to his students through humor. I really enjoy
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Descriptive Writing- Brodie Dashwood Rocking from side to side‚ I ran away from every problem I had in my life that was suffocating me. Now part of this included when I had to risk my life in need for that freedom I had been craving. My journey began 20 years ago‚ 5 whole years before I was locked down in the world’s highest security prison. I was ordered to the place that I considered hell on earth contained by a wall the height of a sky scraper drenched in high voltage barbed wire. Still to this
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The Chase My wrists started to ache terribly as I trudged along the hard concrete road. Usually‚ when I took this route home‚ I passed all sorts of strange looking people. Where we lived‚ was an odd place‚ the people there were very friendly‚ but sometimes too friendly‚ getting in the way of your private life‚ asking personal questions that you didn’t really know how to answer. But on this particular night‚ a humid night at that‚ there was absolutely no sound to be heard. Not even the squeal of
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Upon reading chapters one through four of “On Writing Well”‚ I’ve summarized the key ideas amongst these resourceful pages. In chapter one‚ “The Transaction”‚ Zinsser tells us to bring personality into writing‚ but at the same time to bring clarity and strength for the sake of the reader. Also‚ he tells us that in order to accomplish this action we have to find inspiration‚ or motivation to begin. According to his experience however‚ that has not been an easy task to fulfill. In transition to chapter
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The narrow wheels were like pizza cutters that creaked and groaned as they sank into the ruts on the road‚ and sometimes they flung up soft spattered mud against the windows‚ where it mingled with the constant driving rain‚ and whatever view there might have been of the countryside was blatantly obscured. The few passengers flocked together for warmth
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“Oh‚ he is your acquaintance‚ then‚ I wouldn’t mind at all!” she said‚ agreeing with me whole-heartedly. “That is right‚ Ma’am‚ however‚ please don’t mention to him. If ever he gets suspicious‚ you could sell this to him for ten dollars‚” I said with a smile‚ looking forward to the day which I could see him again. Like the playful wind brushing through the auburn leaves then flutter and skitter on the ground‚ I begun realizing something as I returned to that antique book store with its smell of
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When I finally arrived at one of the camps later that night‚ I gratefully sat down on a fallen log that had been pushed around the fire and gulped in some much needed air. The camp was just a small clearing off the road. A fire pit sat in the middle with about ten logs around it. There were no tents or signs of shelter aside from a couple of low hanging branches that could provide some protection from a light rain or a particularly bright sun. A thin river ran at the far end of the camp‚ which was
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such “small” presents as $100 Lego or a Barby’s house in 6 rooms and garden furniture. Therefore‚ I thought that Disney Land was a good invention for loving parents.” The Sacred Grove of Oshogbo by Jeffrey Tayler The following essay contains descriptive language that helps to paint a vivid picture for the reader of an encounter with a man. “As I passed through the gates I heard a squeaky voice. A diminutive middle-aged man came out from behind the trees — the caretaker. He worked a toothbrush-sized
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worried about what must be done‚ only worried about what you want to do. I could travel from town to town following my favorite band in a rusty old dust covered Volkswagen bus. I could live off the land‚ surviving on only what Mother Nature and the goodwill of strangers provided. Then again‚ no‚ I would miss my shiny new Ipod‚ my top of the line cellphone‚ and I would especially miss the clean low rumble of my car as I travel down the road. I must get my mind back in the present and forget my dreams
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September 12‚ 1988‚ I was 13 years old. It was about week into the beginning of the new school year. Every child was very happy going back to school. I tried on my uniform the night before school. I was very excited‚ because it was first day at a new school (Highgate All Age). Most of my friends from primary school were also in attendance. I remembered listening to the radio and heard the meteorologist said‚ “It is coming It is definitely coming‚ Hurricane Gilbert is coming.” That was a day before
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