Independent revision

1. What elements are you revising for and why? (Possibilities may include
characterization, setting description, theme development, action, suspense
or dialogue).
- Im mostly revising for theme development, flow (not choppy,
easy to follow, fast moving, etc.), relevant details, and how well and
how many characteristics of the character are revealed.

2. What do you want your reader to infer about your character or plot?
- I want to guide my readers in a direction that is opposite of
where Im actually going or a plot twist. This will be slightly difficult
because I have not revealed as much about the character or the
problem to make the readers think that theyre will be a happy ending.
As I revise, I will elaborate more on the characters, the plot, and the
setting to lead the readers in the wrong direction. For example
(specifically towards this excerpt): I want the reader to infer that
everything is okay and everything will work out in the end, when really
the parents dont live and the main character doesnt feel emotional
pain when he finds out that his parents have just died (he used his last
drop of emotional pain on his hallucination of his parents dying).

3. Check all the things below that you feel you have ALREADY accomplished
in your story AND HIGHLIGHT A PLACE IN THE TEXT WHERE YOU DO EACH OF
THESE.

_____Plot contributes to main idea or lesson.

. _____Dialogue reveals character motivations, flaws and struggles

_____Dialogue or detail establishes characterization
_____Detail/plot contributes to meaning/lesson of story
_____Adds complexity to character by showing virtues and flaws
_____Shows characters relationship to setting
_____Purposeful description of setting
_____Uses well-developed word choice

4. Copy and paste original document twice into revision document. You will
leave the original alone and revise/change/edit the second one. When you
submit the assignment, you will have the original and final revised piece
together in one document.

5. Make the CONTENT changes that are necessary.

Add in any elements you are missing from the checklist.
Delete unnecessary parts.
 Change or edit anything you need to make the piece as best it
can be.

6. Edit!
Make sure you have spelled everything correctly.
Check the punctuation for all sentences AND dialogue
Capitalize correct words
Use the best, high level and precise vocabulary you can

ORIGINAL:

CHAPTER 1:
Wake up.
Go to work.
Come home.
Eat.
Call to check on mom and dad.
Go to bed.
The same cycle everyday. Im twenty-eight years old now, but my cycle
is about six years old. At twenty two, when I moved out of the house (more
specifically my parents living room), I applied for the most perfect job; an
email coordinator for a small local business that sells hippie products like
all natural soap. Everyday, I ride my blue bike there, wearing whatever
clothes I choose, make my way to the second floor of the building, wind
through the maze of cubicles until I find mine, and park my caboose in my
green bean bag chair. I have a cubicle just like everyone else, but since my
job isnt too complicated or time consuming, I get to have a lot of free time.
Essentially my cubicle is a man cave filled with pizza and donut boxes, a
bean bag chair, a laptop for the rare times I have to answer or forward
emails concerning soap. The only sad part is, I dont have anyone to share it
with.
I have a work friend though. She has the sweetest face; rosy cheeks
spotted with small brown freckles, soft blue eyes, and high cheek bones.
When she smiles, her dimples cave in a little deeper, her eyes shimmer and
the gap between her two front teeth seems to shrink. I love her smile; I cant
get enough of it. Her name is Marcy, but shes high a lot of the time. She
wears the same pair of flared jeans everyday; the ones the drape over the
bottom half of her thin legs like mini denim skirts. The ones that have
patches shaped like daisies on her knees. The ones that have threads
dropping out from the bottoms and drag across the floor everytime she
walks. The ones that Marcy wears on everyone of her dates and the ones
that she wore at her moms funeral. Ive always wondered why shes always
worn the same pants.; shes worn the same pants since my first day which
was six years ago. You could say she has an emotional connection to her
pants, but only God knows why.
Today, she was wearing her flared jeans and a bright pink top layered
with a jean jacket. Her peace sign earrings dangled from her ears swiping her
shoulders with each swing. A cup of coffee was snug in her armpit, spitting
out droplets of black liquid. A pile of paper topped with a fat, green jacket sat
in her hands as they were flying everywhere. In each direction, big papers
and small papers flew through the air. I looked up at the clock. Late again.
Marcy, youre late...again! Mr. Boss man popped his head out of his
office.
Yeah, yeah, I know, Marcy snapped back. She was speed walking to
her colorful cubicle. Slapping her papers and jacket down on her desk, she
took a deep breath and crashed on her pink bean bag chair.
Hey Marcy.
Hey Ethan, she replied as she pulled out a cigar.
Marcy you know youre not allowed to-
Yeah I know Ethan, as she put it up to her mouth, but it relieved my
stress.
I rolled my eyes with a smile.
So, she swung out her hand lazily, tilting her cigarette downwards.
So, I smiled back.
You meet any girls lately?
My smile faded away.
Nope.
You got your eye on anyone?
Nope. Marcys eyebrow rose. She looked down, tapping her cigarette
as ashes fell on the floor.
You want to meet someone?
Depends.
On what?
Whos recommending the girl?
Yours truly, she replied with a smirk.
Do you remember how many times thats failed?
What do you mean?
Remember Hannah? Macry found this girl named Hannah on tinder.
Yes, Marcy made me an account on tinder after coming to consensus that I
was most likely going to be alone forever. Being the good friend she is, she
made me a tinder account to prevent that from ever happening. Ever since
then, shes searched for my perfect match with high hopes but low
standards.
Oh yeah. The girl who dumped her leftover sushi on you after she
thought you ditched her when you had to take a massive 30 minute dump.
Dont say that so loud. Marcy giggled. I just stared at her.
Alright, but I have a good feeling about this one.
Should I trust you?
Yes, I promise this girl is good. She stared at me with bright, hopeful
eyes as if she were telling me to trust her, to say yes.
Alright fine, but if this doesnt work out, Im shutting down your
matchmaking business. A grin slowly stretched across her face and her eyes
became brighter.
Trust me, youll love her, she shouted as she bounced in her bean
bag chair. I laughed, turned around, and opened my laptop to check emails.
Inbox: 3.
3 emails.
Wow, its full today.

I reluctantly clicked on the first email.

:Is this Jennys email?

Not totally surprised at what the email read, I rolled my eyes and clicked
delete. On to the second email, which was sent from a woman named
Martha.

:Hello, Offshore! I heard about your company through a friend and was
interested in your products. Im not interested in the way that you think I am
though. I tried some of the lotion she bought from you. I had found it on the
counter, unopened, when I visited her, spit some out onto my hand, and a
few seconds after I rubbed it in my hand turned bright red and was covered
in spots. It slowly swelled up as it became a deeper red, and began to hurt.
The pain was unbearable to the point in which I had to go to the ER for
treatment. Maybe Im allergic, but I dont have any allergies. My friend tried
it and the same thing happened to her, so Im interested to hear what
ingredients you used before you sell this to anyone else. Also, Im interested
to see how youre going to fix this problem. IF NOT, IM SUING.

Slightly shocked, I was debating whether or not to reply. Should I tell my

boss? Should I personally reply? Should I delete it? My hand hovered over the
delete button. It was just two people, and only few people know that we even
exist, so they wouldnt have to worry about it. My began to shake as the
cursor floated in the same spot; just over the delete button.

*click*

I shrugged my shoulders carelessly. No one will know.

I clicked the third and final email.

It was sent from my parents email, but signed with a different name.
Please dismiss Ethan early today. Dont fire if he doesnt come back for a few
weeks. Important news. Its an emergency.
-Tory Williams (his sister)
I stared at the screen, wondering what she talking about. Why would I get
fired? Why would I be leaving early? Why wouldnt I be at work for the rest of
the week? Why was Tory using my parents email? I had so many questions,
that my brain became overwhelming full. My lungs suddenly grew heavier,
making it harder to breathe.
Inhale
Exhale
Breathing as if I was treading in deep, cold water, gasping for air.
What was happening to me?
An unpleasant tingle snaked through my veins. A shiver of anxiety caused
the hairs on my neck and arms to stand. My heart pounded, pounded like
someone or something was trying to punch its way out from the inside of my
chest.
What was wrong with me?
I immediately had a bad feeling about this, like a form of intuition. The
email, vague as it was, portrayed a certain darkness, foreshadowing
something bad had happened. My brain was screaming at me to leave, get
out, and go see Tory. Tory? No, my parents. Yes, I need to see my parents to
see if theyre ok. Are they okay? My spine tingled like electricity was running
up my vertebrae. Theyre not okay, something happened. I need to leave. I
need to go. Who cares if I get in trouble, I need to get out of here!
Hey where are you going, Marcy jumped out of her seat as I snatched
my sweater.
Uh...uh, w-well I just have t-to go, my breath was cutting short as
words tumbled out of my mouth.
Ok, Marcy responded with a confused look. She poked her head out,
catching a glimpse of the email.
Whats going on?
 I have to go, Marcy.
Is something wrong?
I stared at her, my heart pounding out of my chest with anxiousness.
Ethan?
I think theres something wrong.
What?
Tory emailed me might be something about my parents but Im
not sure whats going on.
She stared at me with wide eyes as if she she knew something, or was hiding
something. Ethan, before you leave
Yeah?
Just know that I'm always here for you, whatever happens or did happen.
Umm okay, thanks Marcy. I-Ill text you l-later.
Her eyebrows curled upwards causing the skin between her brows to wrinkle.
Her eyes were still wide, but they were dim, not as lively as usual. Did she
know something? Tory and her are fairly close, so maybe Tory said
something. My brain flooded with anxiety as my body continued to shiver. My
stomach fluttered. My ears stung with heat. My head hurt as a cloud of dark,
sad thoughts choked my mind like I was locked in a room that was gradually
filling with a thick smoke.
Without a proper goodbye, I rushed passed Marcy. I didn't even look at her; I
just snatched my things so that they drooped off of my forearm and left. I felt
the sweat on my forehead stream down as I speed walked to the front door.
Ding, ding!
The sound of the bell that hung above the entrance sang, but it wasn't a
happy, welcoming sound. It was like an alarm.
Ding
Ding
Ding.
PEER REVISED/FEEDBACK:
Peer Revision for Tiffany
Before you read your partners piece, ask them what they want feedback on.
This writer wants feedback on characterization and dialogue.
After reading partners piece, look over their independent revision that they
completed. Do you think they were successful in accomplishing what they set out
to revise or not? Be specific.
- Yes, I do think that they improved, but there is still room for
improvement. There was more dialogue and it was more meaningful/relevant
to the story. Also, there was better development of characters when
comparing the original to the revised because she better showed the
relationship between the characters, but I still think she could do more.
This writer was especially successful with
- flow, keeping a constant pace that was easy to follow but still allowed
the writing to be interesting.
Because
- she did not drag the description so much it became boring and slowed
the pace down. She also made the interaction between the characters
interesting and engaging to a point in which the reader had room to infer.

This writer should still consider

- word choice (more advanced vocabulary), more suspense and
character development (clarity and elaboration on who each of these
characters are, how they act, etc.) Also, the theme was not evident or clear
as well as the plot or problem. This could be part of the reason why the
writing is interesting because the reader had room to list possibilities of the
problem and infer a possible theme. Also listing the characters actions would
be something she could watch out for.
Because
- By adding stronger vocab it could make it appealing to higher level
readers and would enrich the story. By stronger vocab, I dont mean harder
synonyms, but more descriptive and complex language to benefit the
description of the characters/setting. This could in turn reveal important
characteristics like body language, speech, emotions, and perspective of the
characters. The main characters were somewhat easy to pick out, but the
writing could benefit from some more focus on the main characters in terms
of description (of their problems, reactions, interactions, and characteristics).
There were hints here and there about the what the problem could be, but it
would be helpful if it were more clear. (then again this is only an excerpt).

Your feedback on the specific thing the writer asked you to look at:
Tiffany asked for feedback on characterization and dialogue. The dialogue is good
but a way should could improve it is by adding more to reveal more about how the
characters interact with each other and their relationships to each other.

Give the writer an overall score on each of the following. Rate each from 1-5 (1
lowest, 5 highest).
My overall rating is 3.5.
Characterization: 3
Plot/action: 2.5
Theme/message/big idea: 2
Dialogue: 3
Suspense: 2
Vocabulary: 2.5
Mechanics (spelling, punctuation): 4
 SELF REVISED:

CHAPTER 1:
Wake up.
Go to work.
Come home.
Eat.
Go to bed.
The same cycle everyday. Im twenty-eight years old now, but my cycle
is about six years old. At twenty two, when I moved out of the house (more
specifically my parents living room), I applied for the most perfect job; an
email coordinator for a small local business that sells hippie products like
all natural soap. Everyday, I ride my blue bike there, wearing whatever
clothes I choose, make my way to the second floor of the building, wind
through the maze of cubicles until I find mine, and park myself in my green
bean bag chair. I have a cubicle just like everyone else, but since my job isnt
too complicated or time consuming, I get to have a lot of free time.
Essentially, my cubicle is a man cave filled with pizza and donut boxes, a
bean bag chair, and a laptop for the rare times I have to answer or forward
emails concerning soap. The only sad part about my job is leaving and
returning to an empty home. No one is there to bid me a warm welcome and
no one to kiss goodbye in the morning. Ive been all alone for six years,
without a touch of romance in my life.
I have a work friend though. She has the sweetest face; rosy cheeks
spotted with small brown freckles, soft blue eyes, and high cheek bones.
When she smiles, her dimples cave in a little deeper. Her eyes shimmer and
the gap between her two front teeth seems to shrink. I love her smile; I cant
get enough of it. Her name is Marcy, Marcy the hippie who smokes. . She
wears the same pair of flared jeans everyday; the ones that drape over the
bottom half of her thin legs like mini denim skirts. The ones that have
patches shaped like daisies stitched to her knees. The ones that have
threads dropping out from the bottoms which drag across the floor everytime
she walks. The ones that Marcy wears on every one of her dates, and the
ones that she wore at her moms funeral. Ive always wondered why shes
always worn the same pants. Shes worn the same pants since my first day
(which was six years ago), maybe even longer. You could say she has an
emotional connection to her pants, but only God knows why.
Today, she was wearing her flared jeans and a bright pink top layered
with a denim jacket. Her peace sign earrings dangled from her ears swiping
her shoulders with each swing. A cup of coffee was snug in her armpit,
spitting out droplets of a creamy, mocha colored liquid. A pile of paper
topped with a fat, green jacket sat in her hands as they were flying
everywhere. In each direction, big and small papers flew through the air. I
looked up at the clock. Late again.
Marcy, youre late again! Our boss popped his head out of his
office.
Yeah, yeah, I know, Marcy snapped back as she continued speed
walking to her colorful cubicle.
Slapping her papers and jacket down on her desk, she took a deep
breath and crashed on her pink bean bag chair. I looked at her with a grin
and waited patiently for her to cool down before I began a conversation. She
took slightly longer than usual, but I didnt bother to ask.
Hey Marcy.
Hey Ethan, she replied as she pulled out a cigar.
Marcy you know youre not allowed to-
Yeah I know Ethan, as she put it up to her mouth, but it relieves my
stress.
I rolled my eyes with a smile.
So, she swung out her hand lazily, tilting her cigarette downwards.
So, I smiled back.
You meet any girls lately?
My smile fades away.
Nope.
Her mouth begins to curl upwards into a smirk.
You got your eye on anyone?
Nope. Marcys eyebrow rose. She looked down, tapping her cigarette
as ashes fell on the floor.
You want to meet someone?
Depends.
On what?
Whos recommending the girl?
Yours truly, she replied, her eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. .
Do you remember how many times thats failed?
What do you mean?
Remember Hannah? Once, Macry found this girl named Hannah on
Tinder. Yes, Marcy made me an account on tinder after coming to consensus
that I was most likely going to be alone forever. Being the good friend she is,
she made me a Tinder account to prevent that from ever happening. Ever
since then, shes searched for my perfect match with high hopes but low
standards.
Oh yeah. The girl who dumped her leftover sushi on you after she
thought you ditched her when you had to take a massive 30 minute dump?
Dont say that so loud. Marcy giggled. I just stared at her.
Alright, but I have a good feeling about this one.
Should I really trust you?
Yes, I promise this girl is good. She stares at me with bright, hopeful
eyes as if she were telling me to trust her, to say yes.
Alright fine, but if this doesnt work out, Im shutting down your
matchmaking business. A grin slowly stretches across her face and her eyes
became brighter.
Trust me, youll love her, she shouts as she bounces in her bean bag
chair. I laugh, turn around, and open my laptop to check emails.

Inbox: 3.
3 emails.
Wow, its full today.

I reluctantly clicked on the first email.

:Is this Jennys email?

Not totally surprised at what the email read, I rolled my eyes and clicked
delete. On to the second email, which was sent from a woman named
Martha.

:Hello, Offshore! I heard about your company through a friend and was
interested in your products. Im not interested in the way that you think I am
though. I tried some of the lotion she bought from you. I had found it on the
counter, unopened, when I visited her, spit some out onto my hand, and a
few seconds after I rubbed it in, my hand turned bright red and was covered
in spots. It slowly swelled up as it became a deeper red, and began to hurt.
The pain was unbearable to the point in which I had to go to the ER for
treatment. Maybe Im allergic, but I dont have any allergies. My friend tried
it and the same thing happened to her, so Im interested to hear what
ingredients you use before you sell this to anyone else. Also, Im interested
to see how youre going to fix this problem. IF NOT, IM SUING.
 Slightly shocked, I was debating whether or not to reply. Should I tell
my boss? Should I personally reply? Should I delete it? My hand hovered over
the delete button. It was just two people, and only few people know that we
even existed, so they wouldnt have to worry about it. My hand began to
shake as the cursor floated in the same spot; just over the delete button.

*click*

I shrugged my shoulders carelessly. No one will know.

I clicked the third and final email.

It was sent from my parents email, but for some reason signed with a
different name.

:Please dismiss Ethan early today. Dont fire if he doesnt come back for the
rest of the week. Important news. Its an emergency.
-Tory Williams (his sister)

I stared at the screen, wondering what she talking about. Why would I
get fired? Why would I be leaving early? Why wouldnt I be at work for the
rest of the week? Why was Tory using my parents email? I had so many
questions, that my brain became overwhelming full. My lungs suddenly grew
heavier, making it harder to breathe.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Breathing as if I was treading in deep, cold water, gasping for air.
What was happening to me?
An unpleasant tingle snaked through my veins. A shiver of anxiety
caused the hairs on my neck and arms to stand. My heart pounded, pounded
like someone or something was trying to punch its way out from the inside of
my chest.
What was wrong with me?
I immediately had a bad feeling about this, like a form of intuition. The
email, vague as it was, portrayed a certain darkness, foreshadowing
something bad had happened. My brain was screaming at me to leave, get
out, and go see Tory. Tory? No, my parents. Yes, I need to see my parents to
see if theyre ok. Are they okay? My spine tingled like electricity was running
up my vertebrae. Theyre not okay, something happened. I need to leave. I
need to go. Who cares if I get in trouble, I need to get out of here!
 Hey where are you going, Marcy jumped out of her seat as I snatched
my sweater.
Uh...uh, w-well I just have t-to go, my breath was cutting short as
words tumbled out of my mouth.
Ok, Marcy responded with a confused look. She poked her head out,
catching a glimpse of the email.
Whats going on?
I have to go, Marcy.
Is something wrong?
I stared at her, my heart pounding out of my chest with anxiousness.
Ethan?
I think theres something wrong.
What?
Tory emailed me something about my parents but Im not sure
whats going on.
She stared at me with wide eyes as if she she knew something, or was
hiding something.
Ethan, before you leave
Yeah?
Just know that I'm always here for you, whatever happens or did
happen.
Umm okay, thanks Marcy. I-Ill text you l-later.
Her eyebrows curled upwards causing the skin between her brows to
wrinkle. Her eyes were still wide, but they were dim, not as lively as usual.
Did she know something? Tory and her are fairly close, so maybe Tory said
something. My brain flooded with anxiety as my body continued to shiver. My
stomach fluttered. My ears stung with heat. My head hurt as a cloud of dark,
sad thoughts choked my mind like I was locked in a room that was gradually
filling up with a thick smoke.
Without a proper goodbye, I rushed passed Marcy. I didn't even look at
her; I just snatched my things so that they drooped off of my forearm and
left. I felt the sweat on my forehead stream down as I speed walked to the
front door.
Ding, ding!
The sound of the bell that hung above the entrance sang, but it wasn't a
happy, welcoming sound. It was like an alarm.
Ding
Ding
Ding.