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Essay about writing style
Narrative essay exercise
College english 101 how to write a narrative essay
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[{"text":"Fade In:","format":1},{"text":"ext. deep in a woods in wyomin, 2 miles from the hunting camp. 6:30 am","format":0},{"text":"John, a hunter and leader of the hunting trip. Opi is his 14 year old son, also a hunter. They are walking and talking.","format":1},{"text":"john","format":2},{"text":"Good luck son!","format":3},{"text":"opi","format":2},{"text":"(enthusiastically)","format":4},{"text":"I'll do my best!","format":3},{"text":"They walk seperate ways.","format":1},{"text":"ext. hunting camp. 4:30 pm","format":0},{"text":"John and Opi are back at camp.","format":1},{"text":"john","format":2},{"text":"How was it today son?","format":3},{"text":"opi","format":2},{"text":"(sickly)","format":4},{"text":"Not good. And, I couldn't stop …show more content…
hunting camp. 8:00 am","format":0},{"text":"Mike starts to read Ray's books. After 3:30 passes Mike has read enough about medicine plants. He checks on Opi, still asleep. Mike starts to boil water in a pot. He then chops the plant up into the boiling water. He stirs it then makes some venison soop for Opi. He puts the medicine into the small bowl of soup. He walks over to the tent Opi's in. Opi is awake. Mike gives him the soup. Opi eats. He finishes and gives the bowl back to Mike.","format":1},{"text":"Opi","format":2},{"text":"The soup tasted different today.","format":3},{"text":"mike","format":2},{"text":"I added a special ingredient.","format":3},{"text":"opi","format":2},{"text":"Oh. Is it a secret?","format":3},{"text":"mike","format":2},{"text":"For now it is.","format":3},{"text":"Mike left the tent.","format":1},{"text":"the day passes","format":5},{"text":"John returns.","format":1},{"text":"john","format":2},{"text":"How's he
The wolf was staring at Brian, and Brian was staring at the wolf. Brian stood there staring at the wolf until the wolf turned its head and walked away in the opposite direction. The next day Brian decides to go hunt for some real meat, with his self-constructed bow and arrow. He sees a flock of birds sitting next to the lake. He pulls back the arrow, but the bow breaks in half. The wood wasn’t strong
Before this battle, the men are starting to feast on pig and some other foods. All of a sudden they realize that something is wrong because the observation balloons have spotted smoke from their chimney. Soon after, shells begin to drop on them. They race down to the house and feast for four hours. Outside houses are burning, shells are propelled down to the ground. In eight days the men are told to return. Only a few days later are they ordered to evacuate a village. While on their way, Kropp and Paul see people fleeing out of the village with distress, anger, and depression. Everyone is silent as the two walk by them, even the children holding on to their mothers for moment, Paul feels a blow on his left leg. Albert is right next to him, and he cries out to Paul. The men scurry to a nearby ditch. They are hurt, but do the best that they can to run to another ditch. Albert is straggling behind, and Paul helps him to continue by holding him up. They reach the dug-out where Paul bandages up Kropp’s injury, a bullet for an ambulance to be taken. The ambulance picks them up, and they are given an anti-tetanus shot in their chests. When the dressing station is reached, Paul and Kropp make sure that they are lying next to each other. The surgeon examines Paul and tells someone to chloroform him. Paul objects to this order, and the doctor does not do it. The surgeon takes out a piece of shell, and puts Paul in a plaster cast. The two are brought on the train, Albert develops a high fever so he needs to be taken off the train at the next stop. In order to stay with his friend, Paul fakes a fever and they reach a Catholic Hospital together. Paul is operated on and recovers faster than Kropp. His leg is amputated, and he later goes to an institute for artificial limbs. Paul is called back to his regiment and returns to the front.  parts, or lost body parts, and they are thankful that it is not them who are in danger of dying. By receiving injuries, Paul and Kropp experience the war from a different perspective.
The lake finally melted and flooded the cabin, so a tent was pitched only ten yards from a hunting path. A boundary was made after the tent was pitched and the wolves never crossed it. Farley figured out the wolves were living on mice much more than caribou. When the heat came the wolves more their pups to a summer den where they could run. He watched the wolves hunting one day and was in a rage when they would not try and attack any of the healthy deer. Watching closely he figured out that they usually only eat the sick and weak deer.
Renowned economist, Steven D. Levitt, and well-known journalist, Stephen J. Dubner, in their collaboration of the book, Freakonomics: A Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything, write in a mostly inoffensive style about extremely controversial topics. Levitt’s and Dubner’s purpose is to inform readers of frequently disputed topics from a purely economic standpoint. They use second person to directly speak to their readers, an impartial tone to show an unusual perspective, and contrast to provide both sides of an argument.
The story began when a Indian man took out a tomahawk blade and twisted two slim branches from a small bitternut hickory tree on a salt marsh around the blade. Eleven years later, the same man chopped down the same tree and gave the finished tomahawk to his son, Little Hawk. He informed him that he was going to go through a ritual that required him to survive three months in the woods alone. When he returns, Little Hawk will finally prove himself as a man. The tomahawk is one of the things that he could bring with him during the ritual. Three other boys will also be doing the same as Little Hawk. After the three solitary months, Little Hawk found his way back home in triumph just to discover that his whole village is dead. His grandmother, Suncatcher, is the only one in the village. The two of them carried on with their lives in a new village. When spring came, two Englishmen and a seven-year-old boy arrived with an Indian translator named Squanto. The boy crept away from his father while they were being taught how to fish and played with other children. The boy told his name to Little Hawk. His name was John Wakeley. Soon, the white men came back and brought the boy away. About three years later, Little Hawk and Leaping Turtle were chosen to be runners. Runners brought messages to and from the Indian sachem’s home. Halfway through their journey, they heard screams. Little Hawk ran toward them and saw a white man lying crushed under a big tree and another man trapped by his leg u...
Ender’s Game is a story set in the near future, where an Alien race has attacked earth and is planning to attack again. A boy named Ender Wiggin is recruited to join the military and is sent to Battle School to train to be able to defeat the next alien attack. The author of Ender’s Game uses various styles of writing. In doing so the Author is able to convey a concise yet entertaining story. Some of the writing styles the he uses are that his writing is simple, he uses various types of POV and lastly he uses irony.
1. Have you established a writing style? What does it involve? What are the challenges you encounter when writing? What do you anticipate encountering when writing longer research papers?
“That is okay doctor. And you know why,” Jack had a malevolent laugh. “Because I will always be the chief who enjoys hunting.” Silly doctor, he left the door open. Right before Dr. Geller’s eyes, Jack ran out and screamed at the top of his
With adrenaline pumping through my veins I descend from my concealed position high up in an ancient oak. The adrenaline does not last long though because now I have time sensitive work to complete. First, I draw out my knife, a gift from my grandpa when I started hunting, and make a slit along the stomach of my prey. From this incision steam billows out and hits me in the face almost making me sick. I work on and accomplish the gruesome task at hand. After about twenty minutes of hard work the ground all around me runs red and I know this part of my job has reached a conclusion. Time has come to carry the colossal eighteen point granddaddy of a buck to my old beat up blue F250 truck. This task is nearly impossible and takes a great deal of effort even though the trip is only fifty yards. Once I get the deer home I again feel a great sense of pride. This high should last me until I have to complete the gruesome task of butchering my animal in a few days once the meat sets.
I was alert sitting by the window facing the oak tree, the same oak tree where I had left trinkets “like Indian pennies, chewing gum, soap dolls, a rusty medal, a broken watch and a chain for Scout and Jem to find.” The pagent was over and I was expecting to see Scout and Jem by the tree anytime. I heard them running, Scout was having some problems as she was caged in her dress. I was startled to hear another set of unfamiliar, heavy footsteps as if someone was following Scout and Jem. I then heard the scuffling and kicking sound and Scout’s plea for help. I bolted out of the house, focused on reaching the kids in time. I noticed Scout was on the ground, trying to wiggle out of her dress, she seemed bruised. Jem was trying to free himself from the man, he was hurt and screaming. The man was relentless as he pounded him with one blow after another. Jem was hurt, his arm was dangling as if broken. Seeing, the man raise his hand with a shiny object in his hand, I bumped into him with all my strength. The man lost his balance, his foot hit the root of the tree and the knife fell from his hand as he hit the ground with a loud thump and a ear shattering
What is writing style? I started out thinking that writing style is a personal thing and that all writers have their own style. But, this way of thinking is really just a simple way to answer the question. After more careful thought, I realized that style is actually quite the opposite of personal and original. Style is a form of standardization. As writers, we all follow certain rules and guidelines to make our point. Style is these rules and guidelines.
It was a beautiful October afternoon as I climbed to the top of my tree stand. The sun was shining, and a slight breeze was blowing from the northwest. I knew that the deer frequented the area around my stand since my step-dad had shot a nice doe two days earlier from the same stand, and signs of deer were everywhere in the area. I had been sitting for close to two hours when I decided to stand up and stretch my legs as well as smoke a cigarette.
It is 5:30am on opening morning of deer hunting season and my alarm explodes into a racket that would wake an army. I roll out of bed and rub the sleep from my eyes. I only slept six hours last night because my family and I were preparing for the hunt, getting the guns ready, laying out a clothes-man, everything. As I throw some pants on, the smell of fresh pancakes wakes me up. It is at this time I realize the season is upon us. Since January I have been waiting for this day to come, today begins the annual nine day season that brings our family together each November.
When people try to describe O. Henry’s writing style, they always use the term “smile with tears,” which implies his twisted way of thoughts and endings about every story. These stories usually end in a humorous but also cruel kind of way. It’s absolutely useful to elevate the artistic thought in writing a thoughtful story.
We all grabbed our lawn chairs and cozied up next to the roaring red fire. I always sat a little too close, enough to where the fire burnt a hole straight through my favorite pair of flip-flops, assuring me to never make that mistake again. S’mores was all of our favorite bed time snack time and a perfect way to end the night. Every time I would roast my marshmallow until it became slightly brown, mushy, and not too hot in the center; then I 'd put it between two graham crackers and extra pieces of chocolate. One too many s’mores and a belly like later I laid back in my chair and listened as Nancy told us stories. Before going to bed Nancy told us about her favorite past times here as a child and how just like the little girl we saw fishing, she was also afraid of fishing. She told us stories about how much the campground has evolved since she was a child and how every year she promises to take us here and to keep it a tradition. At bedtime Alicia and I crawl into our tents and snuggle up in our warm sleeping bags. We talked to each other about how sad we felt that it was almost the end of summer, and how nervous we felt to start our freshman year of high school. However, our conversations ended when Nancy yelled at as from the other tent to keep quiet and go to bed. I’d fallen asleep that night to the sound of the fire crackling out and the crickets chirping