Can you check my creative writing? (1 Viewer)

[lolrofllol]

I wanted to get some practice at writing creative pieces so here it is. It's a journal entry loosely based on the Jonestown mass suicides, I just wanted to know if you could lose marks for that? I mean could basing a story on a real event seem less creative and lazy? Anyway this is just practice and I don't intend to adapt it into any exams as of yet. Thanks in advance.

January 21st 1968
Today he reached a new level.

He told us the whole world was against us and that our only option remaining was suicide. I cringe thinking about it. A bitter shiver rolls down my spine every time I contemplate my lifelong enforcement of remaining here. I cannot believe I can even entertain the thought of suicide.
Originally this was meant to be something special. Who would’ve thought? The parish had attracted all sorts of people. From the then-ousted black community, who for the first time the world had seen belonged with the white man in one entity as God intended, to the drug addicted – who were miraculously healed upon his help. This conglomeration joined together in song and praise. It was quite a sight! The roaring Pentecostal spirit was live within us all – except the pastor as I know now.

He was originally the beacon in my dark mind; now that beacon has crumbled and from it, a violent shattered memory remains.

Being blinded by awe then, I took nearly no attention to what this man actually spoke of. “I am the son of God” he would scream. We, just like sheep would praise him and acknowledge this wholeheartedly… The propaganda and paranoia was aptly masked by Pentecostalism. “The government controls us all like pawns and we cannot stay here and endure this hatred anymore”… I must have been terribly blind.
Oh how strong the desire to call myself a part of something was. I am a part of the California Parish! No I do not engage in those activities anymore! Why you ask? Christ has saved me under the pastor! The feeling I use to get from this, it is inexplicable in cold emotionless written language. Imagine a lost puppy, scared to no end, being found by its worrying mother – being caressed in the loving natural bond they shared. This bond I had no experience of. Could you blame me? I had a faint idea of what this man was capable of. Leaving myself stranded again by calling it out is something I could not have handled nor undertaken. Now look at all my benevolent comrades, what has happened to them all. They have decayed into shadows literally impressed upon the ground… Just like me. Suicide he says. Maybe it is the better option? Being part of this is no help; yet being on my own would be no better. It is akin to a see-saw. However I am the only one occupying it. On one side I sink to the ground, the other is more of the same.

“A new city!”
“Hallelujah”
“For us, no more oppression – I will lead you to Christ!”

He called it Jonestown. When we came, it was difficult, yet I and my fellow parish members still had hope in the man. Had we eaten the apple and suffered this? Just like the antique couple, except the seducing serpent was of a different form. The conditions which we lived in were utterly dreadful. We could not do it anymore, unless we desired to live the life of a peasant farmer working for this feudal baron – there was no way we could withstand this any longer. It was an obliterated oblivion – obstructed from escape by this monster. He was the guardian of the gate, behind which we would suffer for our sins – Satan himself.

It was one of the greatest days of my new life on the 15th of January. The shattered beacon had been sighted by an apt craftsman, someone willing to repair it. Matt Spring, a senator, was compelled to investigate the conditions we were living in. How strong is a sense of kinship – a sense of belonging? We were perfectly capable, yet we renounced our beautiful home country for this. The home country we should have grasped like the common patriot and never let go of. And yet, after all of the terrible accusations it had suffered at our hands, the motherland still took interest in her confused children and came to console us.

How could one kill his mother? Why would the Lord permit such a thing?

When he did it, I hate to admit it was no surprise for me. I saw the doped up coward upon hearing about this senator, blasting out of his dwelling like the southern country folk of our day. For no reason he gunned down the innocent man.
Do you see my beacon now? Can you imagine it?

I cannot anymore.

This self proclaimed ‘god’s’ wrath has completely exterminated any metaphoric comfort I can gain.

Recovering from his intoxicated state – he realised what he had done.

“Our purging from the face of this planet is imminent, let us die with dignity and take our own life instead of letting this coward do so on our behalf’s. We are better than they say. Let us with our corpses mark this site forever as a rebellion against the manipulative governments of the world! This commendable act will be passed down in the Lord’s history as the greatest ever sacrifice made to him.”
If I am taken by this rapture, I hope this journal is discovered by the gallant men and woman who have to bear the sight of our lifeless bodies. Maybe they are worse off than me.

Dignity is something however I cannot leave the world with anymore. Belonging to society was restraining me, this place is oppressing me, and the only outlook for being part of something – is an inevitable death. I guess suicide is not the worst option. Maybe if I pray tonight, I may have a chance to be with the lord in his magnificent kingdom.

I would not only be part of something, but actually be something.

Maybe

 

[-may-cat-]

Hm.. look, the Jonestown cult suicides are a really sensitive issue, it was a very very disturbing and sad thing to happen and i don't know how markers would react to it. It could be a good idea not to use this particular story.

 

[bored of sc]

January 21st 1968
Today he reached a new level.

He told us the whole world was against us and that our only option remaining was suicide. I cringe thinking about it. A bitter shiver rolls down my spine every time I contemplate my lifelong enforcement of remaining here. I cannot believe I can even entertain the thought of suicide.
Originally this was meant to be something special. Who would’ve thought? The parish had attracted all sorts of people. From the then-ousted black community, who for the first time the world had seen, belonged with the white man in one entity as God intended, to the drug addicted – who were miraculously healed upon his help. This conglomeration joined together in song and praise. It was quite a sight! The roaring Pentecostal spirit was live within us all – except the pastor as I know now.

He was originally the beacon in my dark mind; now that beacon has crumbled and from it, a violent, shattered (too much, but it's good) memory remains.

Being blinded by awe then, I took nearly no attention to what this man actually spoke of. “I am the son of God” he would scream. We, just like sheep, would praise him and acknowledge this wholeheartedly… The propaganda and paranoia was aptly masked by Pentecostalism. “The government controls us all like pawns and we cannot stay here and endure this hatred anymore”… I must have been terribly blind.
Oh how strong the desire to call myself a part of something was. I am a part of the California Parish! No, I do not engage in those activities anymore! Why you ask? Christ has saved me under the pastor! The feeling I use to get from this, it is inexplicable in cold emotionless written language. Imagine a lost puppy, scared to no end, being found by its worrying mother – being caressed in the loving natural bond they shared. This bond I had no experience of. Could you blame me? I had a faint idea of what this man was capable of. Leaving myself stranded again by calling it out is something I could not have handled nor undertaken. Now look at all my benevolent comrades, what has happened to them all. They have decayed into shadows literally impressed upon the ground… Just like me. Suicide he says. Maybe it is the better option? Being part of this is no help; yet being on my own would be no better. It is akin to a see-saw. However I am the only one occupying it. On one side I sink to the ground, the other is more of the same.

“A new city!”
“Hallelujah”
“For us, no more oppression – I will lead you to Christ!”

He called it Jonestown. When we came, it was difficult, yet I and my fellow parish members still had hope in the man. Had we eaten the apple and suffered this? Just like the antique couple, except the seducing serpent was of a different form. The conditions in which we lived were utterly dreadful. We could not do it anymore, unless we desired to live the life of a peasant farmer working for this feudal baron – there was no way we could withstand this any longer. It was an obliterated oblivion – obstructed from escape by this monster. He was the guardian of the gate, behind which we would suffer for our sins – Satan himself.

It was one of the greatest days of my new life on the 15th of January. The shattered beacon had been sighted by an apt craftsman, someone willing to repair it. Matt Spring, a senator, was compelled to investigate the conditions we were living in. How strong is a sense of kinship – a sense of belonging? We were perfectly capable, yet we renounced our beautiful home country for this. The home country we should have grasped like the common patriot and never let go of. And yet, after all of the terrible accusations it had suffered at our hands, the motherland still took interest in her confused children and came to console us.

How could one kill his mother? Why would the Lord permit such a thing?

When he did it, I hate to admit it was no surprise for me. I saw the doped up coward upon hearing about this senator, blasting out of his dwelling like the southern country folk of our day. For no reason he gunned down the innocent man.
Do you see my beacon now? Can you imagine it?

I cannot anymore.

This self proclaimed ‘god’s’ wrath has completely exterminated any metaphoric comfort I can gain.

Recovering from his intoxicated state – he realised what he had done.

“Our purging from the face of this planet is imminent, let us die with dignity and take our own life instead of letting this coward do so on our behalf’s. We are better than they say. Let us with our corpses mark this site forever as a rebellion against the manipulative governments of the world! This commendable act will be passed down in the Lord’s history as the greatest ever sacrifice made to him.”
If I am taken by this rapture, I hope this journal is discovered by the gallant men and woman who have to bear the sight of our lifeless bodies. Maybe they are worse off than me.

Dignity is something however I cannot leave the world with anymore. Belonging to society was restraining me, this place is oppressing me, and the only outlook for being part of something – is an inevitable death. I guess suicide is not the worst option. Maybe if I pray tonight, I may have a chance to be with the lord in his magnificent kingdom.

I would not only be part of something, but actually be something.

Maybe

Note: bold bits are awkward imagery/word choice and underlined bits are nice examples of language/vocabulary etc.

I'm not the best at criticism for creative writing as it my weakness. But here goes:
- The ending is powerful and leaves it in the air (in a good way). I suggest you take out the bits in bold and finish with "magnificent kingdom" to emphasise their undying faith in religion.
- Your language is substantial (not excellent but quite good) but I feel your sentence structure needs work. Play around with how you construct the sentence. See the bolded parts for specific examples. Also, you use the exact word 'belonging' a few times which makes it seem forced/awkward. Try other words such as position, place in the world, acceptance etc.
- The topic is emotionally intense and this actually works well with your frank and brutal writing style. Well done.
- I find it hard to understand since I know nothing about the topic however I feel the connection to belonging is very effective i.e. suicide to belong to a religious entity/God's kingdom of heaven.
- The quotes work well. Try not to explain them in too much detail so they have greater expressive impact as 'bare' and 'brutal' (no opinion's attached). You do this fairly well for the most part.
- Not sure about the moral issues in choosing this topic but best to check with your teacher.

Overall, solid attempt. Continue to refine sentence structure and improve word choice in certain areas and this has the potential of being a A grade reponse. I'm not sure what is now. It's better than mine if that's any positive feedback.

But hey, trust these points with caution. I've tried to be as honest as possible.

 

[lolrofllol]

Note: bold bits are awkward imagery/word choice and underlined bits are nice examples of language/vocabulary etc.

I'm not the best at criticism for creative writing as it my weakness. But here goes:
- The ending is powerful and leaves it in the air (in a good way). I suggest you take out the bits in bold and finish with "magnificent kingdom" to emphasise their undying faith in religion.
- Your language is substantial (not excellent but quite good) but I feel your sentence structure needs work. Play around with how you construct the sentence. See the bolded parts for specific examples. Also, you use the exact word 'belonging' a few times which makes it seem forced/awkward. Try other words such as position, place in the world, acceptance etc.
- The topic is emotionally intense and this actually works well with your frank and brutal writing style. Well done.
- I find it hard to understand since I know nothing about the topic however I feel the connection to belonging is very effective i.e. suicide to belong to a religious entity/God's kingdom of heaven.
- The quotes work well. Try not to explain them in too much detail so they have greater expressive impact as 'bare' and 'brutal' (no opinion's attached). You do this fairly well for the most part.
- Not sure about the moral issues in choosing this topic but best to check with your teacher.

Overall, solid attempt. Continue to refine sentence structure and improve word choice in certain areas and this has the potential of being a A grade reponse. I'm not sure what is now. It's better than mine if that's any positive feedback.

But hey, trust these points with caution. I've tried to be as honest as possible.

Very insightful, thanks!