Mr Legowski’s 11xEN1 home learning – due Thursday 14 November

Write a passage which introduces the reader to your character for the first time. Consider how much information you will reveal at this stage of your story.

Write your paragraph in the comments box below OR (if you really must, Tilly!) in your A5 exercise book.

Mr Legowski

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13 thoughts on “Mr Legowski’s 11xEN1 home learning – due Thursday 14 November

  1. Harriet

    I guess you could say i had become immune to pain by now, both physical and emotional. So much has happened in the space of a few weeks i feel incapable of showing emotions, its a very unsettling feeling. I just go about this new life taking each problem as it comes. I feel alone, trapped up inside my mind. Watching the rest of the camp get on with their lives, seeing them laugh, cry, seeing my mother force my brothers to each green food, it makes me feel like an outsider. Smiling hurts my cheeks, the ache i feel in my bones is barely noticeable anymore. I know this is the best possible way for us to carry on and i appreciate my fathers determination for this to succeed, and of course i’m grateful, but i don’t like it. I hate what has become of the world, i am mad at society for letting this happen but what can I do about it? I’m just a scared teenage girl grieving over the loss of my friends, i just want to be able to talk to someone my own age about something other than hunting or the best ways of survival. I want my life back.

    Reply
    1. dartmouthacademyeng Post author

      This is really good, Harriet. An example of how first-person perspective – when done well – can open up the character and expose her/his most personal thoughts to the reader. Well done. One point though: consider when it’s appropriate to use a comma and when a semicolon, or a new sentence, is more effective. Mr Legowski

      Reply
  2. Georgia Atkins

    As if I hadn’t put up with enough problems. I just recently lost my jerry, and now society has chosen to throw a disaster like this in my shoulders too. It’s just more to worry about. I’m alone. Scared. Anxious. All I want is the comfort from my jerry. He was my everything and without him I’m lost. Lost, in a spiral of useless thoughts. Lost, with nothing or no-one to rescue me. I just seem to be falling into a state of depression, i need a friend, i need company fast. Surely I’m not the only one left?

    Reply
    1. dartmouthacademyeng Post author

      Georgia, I love the mood of utter loneliness that comes across here, conveyed by emotive language and effective sentence structures. As with Joe, however, you could lose silly but crucial SPaG marks if you don’t use capital letters (for Jerry, in this case) correctly. Mr Legowski

      Reply
  3. joe dooley

    The stranger raised the bottle to his lips in the dim half light, a long shadow cast across the wall. He grunted as the vodka burned in his throat, then placed the bottle back down on the counter. The barman wandered back over, picked up the now empty bottle, gave it a cursory examination and murmured to the stranger
    “Bozhe moy, comrade. that’s the second bottle tonight. is something wrong?”
    “da…” the man replied. “family… cannot say…”
    the barman leaned forward, inquistive now, curious.
    “were they…?”
    “yes” The stranger simply replied. “but that is not… not all”
    “yes?”
    “I’ve done things… not proud… they will be looking for me…”
    The barman and the stranger exchanged glances, swift, fleeting.
    “such as…?”
    “I cannot say.”
    “why not?”
    “what the hell is this?” the stranger yelled, finally snapping.”An interrogation? go bother someone else! molchay!”
    The barman simply stared at the stranger. It was not the first time. He decided on a different approach.
    “what’s your name, comrade?”
    The man hesitated, as if thinking. “Dmitri… Dima..”.
    “you better get home Dima. you live far away?”
    “nyet…”
    “you better leave then.” the barman replied.
    Dima man picked up his ushanka, then stumbled to the door. he then turned, shoving his hand in the pocket of his fur coat. “your.. your money… sposiba…”
    “there is no money anymore” the barman told him. “remember? anyway, you better leave. curfew is in fifteen minutes, and you know what they do, right?”
    “umm… da, i know… what happens… konechno…” Dima stammered, suddenly sobering, his eyes widening in fear. “they caught vasya just last week…”
    ” i heard” the barman replied, his tone serious. ” do svidaniya, comrade”
    “do svidaniya.”Dima replied. He stumbled out the door, onto gavrikova ulitsa, and on his way home.

    Reply
    1. dartmouthacademyeng Post author

      Joe, you’ve managed to do what requires a deft touch – make dialogue realistic (minimalist!) and make it move the story forward by revealing what the main protagonist is actually like. A fab example of dialogue and of ‘show, not tell’. BUT you MUST use SPaG correctly (in this case, capital letters) as you’ll lose silly but crucial marks. Mr Legowski

      Reply
  4. Alix Hopley

    I find myself looking for something. Something to hold onto. The guns may protect me from the police and the looters, but not my thoughts. They completely consumed me, the thoughts of my life just wasting away. I needed to cope with the anxiety, I cannot last alone like this, I need someone, anyone. Sooner or later my lack of survival skills will fail me, or I will simply forget the time and miss my curfew. I need to start looking for someone now. Someone must be in this life-destroying warzone. The city is massive, full of food, drink and other supplies. Surely…no…definitely, someone must be here.

    Reply
    1. dartmouthacademyeng Post author

      I really enjoyed this, Alex. Are you going to write your opening chapter in first-person perspective? It does allow the reader a more intimate understanding of the character. What other advantages are there? Any disadvantages?

      Reply
  5. Jake

    The pressure of living in this place consumes you, constantly living in fear of losing the simple things we used to take for granted. Everyone’s anger is slowly chewing away at them, maybe that’s just what they wanted.
    We’re always the ones that have to suffer for the mistakes that we don’t make. They have been gnawing away at the thin rope of respect that the world has for them for to long, it was imminent that this was going to happen, but no, we won’t take it this time, they will pay for what has happened to my son and the devastation they have caused to the innocent people of this world. Finally the right moment has come, and I wouldn’t miss this opportunity for anything those petty people have to offer me. It has begun.

    Reply
    1. dartmouthacademyeng Post author

      You’ve used a couple of metaphors which work really well, Jake – ‘anger chewing away at them’ and ‘gnawing at the thin rope of respect’ both work really well (and share a common theme – hunger, even desperation – too). The short sentence at the end is effective too. Well done. Mr Legowski

      Reply
  6. Rhiannon

    I glanced at my younger brother witheringly, only months separating us in age, but years in appearance. His jawline was more rounded than mine, with anxious piercing blue eyes that looked at me questioningly, as if to say ‘What now?’ Unlike me, his ebony hair camouflaged in the dead of the night sky, revealing only his haunted pale face, where we took turns to keep watch for them, each second feeling like hours. I resembled HIM, at least, from the photos in the tattered articles that now lay beneath my shoe- a chiseled jawline, stiff and well defined, with ambiguous green eyes that gave away nothing, my coarse brown hair billowing in all directions, thanks to the icy prevailing winds that protruded in a westerly direction, sometimes resulting in strands falling across my face, amplifying my misery. He understood that in milliseconds, but did not comment. With the temper I possess, it was safer that way

    Reply
  7. Josie

    Whenever someone new comes in to my life I just assume “how long his time?” How long until the person I learn to care and dear for runs out on me like the rest of them. I guess it’s hard being a teenage girl stuck in a small village with her mother, Christine and two little sisters, Emma and Sophie. But we’re leaving soon to a new place. Third time luck I guess. Well I hope. You see my mums just lost her job due to the “economic crisis” they’re all going on about,, but this was not an ending, it was just the beginning. the shop, a little market shop, where it sold anything you could possibly imagine. The walls are filled with pale cream cracked and chipped old paint and when you walked in your nostrils were hit with the stench of the old widowed boss’s stench of body odour, you could almost taste the onions withering under his armpits. The place almost felt haunted, maybe because it was or maybe it was because I could feel the boss’s glare on me, at all times, as if he was shadowed my every instant move. Brww that man gives me the creeps,. But anyway the shop got shut down because no one could afford to keep it, it was a burden to the village. So mum thought it would be wonderful idea to move to a place called Brooksville, where she has the opportunity to work for an old lady who needs her house cleaned regularly but no one will do it. Why? I don’t know but I’m sure I’m about to find out……

    Reply

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