V.R.

Maharaj

STORY WRITING

WRITING A STORY
Every story must have a beginning, middle, and an end. Every story must also have a
climax, or high-point of drama that is able to stir some emotional response in the reader. The
story’s introduction sets the scene for the reader; the following paragraphs must move the plot
along, and build the tension, while revealing the characteristics of the protagonist and other
players. These lead to the story’s climax, where the problem is faced/conflict explodes/the drama
is at its highest. The paragraphs following this must lead to the final conclusion of the story,
bringing about resolution until the point at which the tale ends. A ‘good’ story can be achieved
using descriptive and figurative language, proper organization of ideas, and by simply thinking
‘outside of the box’.

INTRODUCTION
There are four ways to start a story, as follows:
1. Start with a description of the weather, and general atmosphere.
“It was a warm morning. The rays of sunlight gently caressed my cheeks as my waking ears were
kissed by the soft music of birds outside my window. As I padded barefoot over the cool floor-
boards to the window seat, I glimpsed a veil of mist flowing like milk into the glass of the valley
below. My heart drank in a moment’s ease; I knew this comfort would not last long.”

2. Start in the middle of the action.

“The warmth of his sweatshirt was all Jack needed as he nestled further into the couch; dreams
of his classmate Sandy Mae flitting playfully through his mind were a welcome encouragement.
Until the telephone rang, its shrill scream piercing the peace enveloping him like a shroud. He
jumped awake, wiping the spittle from his chin with one hand, while reaching for the telephone.
“Who could this be? It’s already half eleven, sheesh,” he muttered, bringing the telephone to his
ear. Suddenly, the house was plunged into darkness.”

1
 V.R.Maharaj

3. Start with conversation.

“She took a step back, her eyes dripping angry tears. “I can’t do this anymore John! I can’t just
wait for you to become a man and do what needs to be done. I’m fed up! I’m leaving.”
He rushed to embrace her, but she deftly sidestepped him and raced for the door. “Judy, wait! It
will never happen again, I promise,” He knew he was grasping at straws, but he had no other
option. The only good thing in his life was walking away through that damned door and he had
to do something, anything! “Judy! I love you! Doesn’t that count for anything?”
“Not anymore, John. It counts for nothing now. Good bye.” She wiped her tears away and
stormed out. It was then he decided that come hell or high water, he would get her back.”

4. Start with a flashback.

“I stood at the window looing upon the ravaged remains of Chaguanas. From this height on the
third floor, I could see a good distance ahead of me. Large chunks of the Earth were missing.
Trees were charred or crushed like used-up toothpicks, discarded at random. Small fires still
burned through broken shop windows and on deserted street corners. No human or animal
moved around in the fetid air. We were all here, cramped in this last surviving building. We
should have prepared. We should have heeded the warnings! It was too late now.
I had been slipping on my non-descript black heels, when it happened. …”

Remember…A dream ending is a weak ending. If ending in suspense, the tension must be
palpable. Otherwise, tie up ALL loose ends as you conclude. Include vivid descriptions that
appeal to each of the five senses, as well as emotions. Use figurative devices such as: metaphor,
simile, personification, onomatopoeia, hyperbole, pun, alliteration, assonance, imagery. Also, try
not to simply relay a series of events, make the experience come alive for the reader. A ‘good’
story makes the impossible believable.

2
 V.R.Maharaj

SECTION C: STORY WRITING

Estimated time: 45 minutes

INSTRUCTIONS: You MUST answer ONE question from this section.

Your answer should be approximately 400 to 450 words in length. You MUST write in Standard
English. However, dialect may be used in conversation.

In your answer, you will be assessed on how well you:

(a) Used the stimulus provided
(b) Developed and organized the content of your writing
(c) Used language appropriate to your audience, purpose and content
(d) Used appropriate grammar, sentence structure, paragraphs, vocabulary, spelling and
punctuation.

EITHER

3. Write a story based on the picture below.

OR
4. As his feet dangled below him, and the wild wind whipped his hair about his face, a doubt
finally crossed his mind: maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

Write a story BEGINNING with these lines.

TOTAL: 25 marks

3
 V.R.Maharaj

Mark Scheme: Content -10marks

Structure- 5marks
Language-10 marks (25 marks total)
Story Question 3:
It had been the final straw. His powerful jab against her delicate face had fractured more
than just her nose bridge. It had broken her resolve, destroyed the last vestiges of patience
holding her sanity together. She had borne the insults. She had waved away the condemnations
and insecurities. She had tried to help, tried to make up for years of instability with a rock hard
determination to keep on keeping on. She had called it love, need, desire…all the words that
filled the black hole that was him. She had denied the truth for as many years as she could.
Her mind snapping had echoed through her being like a lengthy two-by-four plank
breaking resolutely in half in the silence of a dusty store-room. The thin straps keeping the crazy
out had loosened, falling away with no hope of being tied together again.
She had not thought. Her heart had thundered, lightning flashes of rage sparked through
her mind, and blows rained down: a torrential downpour to wash away years of pain. The cold
steel had fit her fingers perfectly. He had drawn his fist back for another blow. Her arm had
made a graceful arc. His eyes had widened at first in disbelief, then further in fright. The splashes
of red had bathed both her and the kitchen counters in floods of life. She had never felt so alive.
The electricity of a successful hunt zinged through her veins as her mind began to clear. It was
over. She was free.
Now she sat, futilely staring off into the distance, awaiting the last train of the day. She
perched on the edge of all her earthly belongings, thrown together hastily as sirens echoed in the
distance. A second case of his sat behind her; there was no sense in throwing away baubles that
could be sold in the hard months to come. She tried not to do the clichéd thing and ponder over
her existence, questioning and analysing her life thus far, but it was inevitable. Every moment of
joy and pain flitted behind her eyelids till she could take no more. Her heart cried for all the
uncertainties of her short life thus far. Tears coursed down her cheeks.
And then it rained. Like the waters of a life washed away down the drain in red rivulets, it
rained. Like the salty remnants of her once stable existence flowing down her cheeks, it rained.
Huddled beneath her umbrella, her thin coat offering little protection against the cold, she
waited. That train was her last hope. (428)

4
 V.R.Maharaj

Story Question 4:
As his feet dangled below him, and the wild wind whipped his hair about his face, a
doubt finally crossed his mind: maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all. The tiny tabby
blinked its little amber eyes at him and meowed softly. He shook his head ruefully, he could just
imagine tomorrow’s newspaper headline: ‘Student killed trying to save neighbour’s cat from San
Fernando’s tallest mango tree’. He shook his head once more as the kitten inched toward him
and settled next to his right arm. How on earth would he get down?
A gust of wind jarred the tree once more and his teeth rattled. The cat latched on to his
side, eyes wide and hackles raised. This was not going to be easy! He had made it up there with
ease, being a track and field athlete had the advantage of stealth and speed, which he used
liberally. He exhaled loudly and the kitten’s claws scratched his side though the thin cotton of his
school shirt.
And that was another thing! When his grandmother saw the bark stains and claw holes in
this, his third of three school shirts, she would flip! The leaves of the tree rustled noisily as he
looked toward home. An idea struck him! If he could catch her attention she might be able to
send his eldest brother after him. He leaned as far out as he could manage without dislodging
himself or his little rescue. Alas, no Grandma Rose was in sight. He shook his head once more.
The tiny ball of fur climbed resolutely into his lap and settled in. He poked the little kitten
once, and then just stroked its soft fur as he considered his options. He had precisely two:
attempt to climb down, risking his and little Purry’s (yes he named the darn cat, why-ever not?)
lives; or he could yell and scream and hope one of his four brothers heard him. He would, of
course, never live this down.
Decision made, he tucked Purry into his shirt front, its little head poking out just under
his chin, and gripped the tree trunk with both hands. Closing his eyes tightly for a moment to
summon up his fourteen years of courage, he ventured forward. Shimmy-slide-grip-shimmy
seemed to be the best way downward, so he carefully and slowly did the awkward dance routine
until his sneakered feet felt solid ground.
“Christopher William Akino Phillip! What in God’s name are you doing climbing trees in
your school uniform?!” Her voice thundered across the street, and he carefully extracted Purry
from his nest, “Well boy, it was nice meeting you. Be glad you live next door… I dead.” (450)