Mr. H's Creative Writing Geniuses Look Here!

[hollis]

Hello 3rd year - We've been looking quite extensively into implicit versus explicit - remember, we're wanting to show our skills as writers, so we want to try and get points across without just saying them flat out. It's more interesting when we have to tease a meaning out of a small gesture, or a description. Think about the subtleties of 'Man on a Ledge' - there is only one explicit emotion mentioned, and that's a fairly obvious one at the end!

So, as practice for our War Journalist, if you have any little snippets of implicit writing you'd like to post, please put them below, and we'll see if the class can figure out what the reeeeaaaall emotions are behind them.

[hollis]

Okay third year - Intros in the OPPRESSIVE room due in for Wednesaday.
Implicit.
Any questions?

Remember, keep your eyes posted here for Hollis' attempt.

[cult-na-zan]

...
im mostly just bothered with the whole trigger being silence for me,so i was thinking i could have him on the phone to the editor and hes really happy then when he hangs up he waits a moment thn it happenes.
what do you think?

[hollis]

Perhaps not happy? Maybe relief.

You could have him calling to tell the editor he's safe. Maybe when the phone clicks as he hangs up, you could tie that in to the click of a gun being readied?

[cult-na-zan]

ty for the help hollis.

[hollis]

My story so far -


The room was shocked by a square of yellow. A keyhole shadow broke through the square, and reached for the lightswitch. The shape became human, and tossed all manner of straps in all manner of directions. The human flopped down upon the bed, shoes kicked to the left and right.
The figure exhaled deeply as the sporadic flashing outside the window continued.
Safety.
The room shook slightly. Safety? The human rose and moved towards the hotel room kettle, taking it into the bathroom to fill up the white plastic. As the light flicked on, the human caught a look of himself in the mirror. The grey was beginning to show more vividly. He filled up the kettle, and looked squarely back at the figure in front of him as he reached for the tap. The grey eyes did not flinch. They had not flinched all day. Then they closed. When they opened, the figure was still looking back. The bathroom light was switched off.
He plugged the kettle in, and looked at the sachets that lay in front of him. He could not understand the writing. He picked the first one up, felt the contents inside scrunch under his hand. Coffee, or what used to be coffee. He opened the sachet, turned the mug upright and emptied the contents in. The stench was overpowering.
Under the dull light, he looked over to the pile of straps next to the bed. The camera was flashing a dull red light. He remembered it needed charged. As the steam began to rise, he fumbled for the adaptor.
Another shake at the window. He hoped it would not last all night. He reached deeper into the bag, finding the metallic points of the plug.
The kettle whistled. The steam rose. The switch clicked.

The switch clicked. No light. He expected as much.
The room was hollow, a shell of itself. The table was black, and he wrote his initials into the soot. Outside was deathly quiet. He picked up the chair as the GIs surrounding him ran off their checklists. The area was clear, apparently. He sighed, fumbling with the lenscap.
They had pulled him aside as they swept the building. He was becoming increasingly aware that having this cotton wool around him would never amount to the exposure and opportunity he was seeking.

[cult-na-zan]

i thought you said you'd put the next bit up?

[wrighty]

My finished story


I scuffed my feet along the grey tarnished floor.The plainness of the room stared at me the walls formed into a small space.I flung my suitcase and camera on the rusty double bed that caved in slightly. My head felt heavy with the weight of the constant painfull pulsing,I opened the filthy patio doors to get some air. The sound of fire works made me feel weak,the memories of the earlier that day came flooding back.
The gun shots echoed around me and the despondent villagers ran frantically to save theirs and other peoples lives I ran as fast as I could , leaving people behind.I had my hand on the shutter but didn't have a good enough shot.
I stood and looked around through the dust of the sand , I could make a faint outline of a little boy wearing only a t-shirt sitting knees up to his chin rocking back and forth , the vibrations of the bombs going off felt closer its my life or his.I took another glance at him I could see him more clearly now the dust had moved away ,his eyes filled with water,fresh
blood splattered across his face and muck over his body.He looked disowned.I couldn't bare to look I ran leaving him behind. I had a job to do.
Everything went quiet.No sound.I stopped running.I could still see families and people trying to escape and I could still feel the vibrations of the bombs but I just couldn't hear it.The smell of burning wrapped around me and the strong smell of gun powder rushed down into my lungs.The sound of screams and gun shots, shot through me the taste of grit entered my mouth, the dust fell into my eyes making them water. The continuous gun shooting stopped.some people stopped but others ran wondering why it was all quiet.The sand picked up and started blowing rapidly my way.the villagers disappeard.Suddenly bullets bursted through the sand.I ducked waiting until they stopped.Screams.Yells. Came from all around even from the distance.
I scurried along the dusty ground and hid behind a blown up vehicle.I crouched down unscrewed the lens gave it a wipe and screwed it back on.The boy that I saw earlier came back into view.He walked across the sand limping slightly.I raised my camera up and looked through the apeture. He looked at me. A look for help. A look for a new life. A life not
here. I put the camera down and stood up I took a step, but crouched down again. A loud noise came from behind him. I looked back through the apeture.The boy turned round fast but didn't manage to run, he went feet first under the tank.
'Click'

The patio doors swung close behind me with a bang the fireworks filled the city with bright lights and I could see families standing watching them and children running away from each other. I stood for a little , just thinking about what happened. I went back in and lent against the wall hands on my face slowly moving down , tears ran down my cheeks onto the tarnished floor. I couldn't help thinking about the little boy. His face. His eyes.It's all to much.His life is gone because of me.