Tuesday, 25 June 2013

My Writing Analysis

A Run in the Mist:


Walking out the door, the bitterly cold air hits me, dragon fumes come out my nose as I take the first step. The pace quickens as I watch the just-risen sun glistening on the morning dew. The sharp wind hits my legs like a thousand miniscule daggers. I run faster and faster leaving behind the misery from deaths that have been recently known. I push out the thoughts of despair along with the ongoing pain. Tire, anguish and heartache empower me. I have to stop; my breathlessness and sobs can’t be fixed by a run in the mist.
Analysis:
A lot of people have really depressing and serious things they have to face and deal with everyday. Sometimes, it can be unimaginable or impossible to even begin working through them. I wrote this piece because I wanted to explore that area of life and why people feel the need to try and run away from it all. Sometimes these issues and the weight it has on people, after a while can just be so heavy and difficult to deal with, they need to run. The girl in this piece is struggling with some problems and quite literally runs away. In the end, she realizes that the misery and anguish no matter where she goes.

My Writing Analysis

Vision:

Sitting in the cool, wet grass I watched the birds fly. Streaming, soaring. I painted a picture of it with extreme emeralds and striking sapphires. The canvas seemed to imitate the shapes and texture of what I saw. The clouds moved in the painting and brought light. I took it home and hung it above the fierce, warm glow of the fireplace. Each day, I saw it as I passed through the lounge, I could be transferred back. Soon that magic had left, the painting was gone and it was all just a memory fading more and more every day.
Analysis:
I wrote this because I wanted to explore a sad but beautiful image of a man who paints and lives through what he sees. In this piece, the man can visually be transported back to a time in his life where he was happy. He loses the painting and can no longer feel that ‘magic,’ and his memory of this happy, gorgeous time is just that, a memory. That fades and loses more image every single day. It is quite sad, because we are all memories or stories in the end, just as long as we make it a good one. The man reflects happily on his joyful youth and is caught in a little trance of nostalgia and sadness.