In the minds of ESL exam candidates, e ssay writing is one of the most daunting tasks they are required to complete, regardless of the level of the exam, the administering body or the ease with which they themselves use the language. The same applies to students who are asked to write an essay by their teachers at school. In the previous sample essays posted on the blog, the main point I stress is the need to become acquainted with this form of writing (as opposed to writing a letter, review or report, for instance), to get a feel of what authorial voice is and how to organize and progressively express the arguments you wish to make in a coherent manner. Unfortunately, the best way to prepare for exam writing or learn how to write good essays for school is to read as many essays from as many sources as possible, then write as
Remember to note the various elements a short story should have as you read it: dialogue, use of adjectives and adverbs to create atmosphere, use of the senses, organization of paragraphs, conflicts that heighten the action, narrator, and the like.
For further information, read my post Writing Stories: Where to Start.
It should help you tackle a story from the ground up and make you aware
of the different things that should be included so that the story is
worth reading.
The assignment or rubric is the following:
A magazine is running a competition for the best short story entitled “A Disastrous Evening.” Write your story.
If you are interested in reading The Haunted House as well, click on the image below.
A Disastrous Evening
His parents were going to meet me for the first time since we had decided to announce our engagement. How did I feel? A wreck. Besides, it was Friday the 13th and Jack – my fiancé – had called to tell me he’d be a little late from work. What else could go wrong on this cold, wet, stormy evening?
The one thing I knew was that they were going to be over in less than an hour to examine their soon-to-be daughter-in-law. The top questions on their check list would undoubtedly be the following: Can she cook? Is she sociable? Does she keep a nice, tidy house? Will she ever live up to his looks after 300 makeovers and two plastic surgeries? After all, what mother believes her son isn’t more handsome than his spouse? All these thoughts swirled around in my head, creating a maelstrom of anxiety, but I was determined and sufficiently prepared to face it all.
Ding-dong. The bell. My inspectors had arrived ahead of time and I was still in a bath robe with curlers in my hair. I put on the closest thing I could find and yanked the curlers out, taking a few tufts of hair along with them. Ding-dong. Some eyeliner and mascara, but no time to comb my hair into place. Ding-dong. They were impatient, that’s for sure.
I opened the door all flushed and sweaty from my efforts. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Dunlop. Sorry for the delay. Right this way, please.” That’s when I smelled the smoke coming from the kitchen and without excusing myself ran to take the roast out of the oven. Too late – it was burnt to a crisp. Never mind that now, I thought, get them drinks. I ran back to the living room and that’s when I saw the pair of jeans I had put on had a large red stain right above my left knee. How nice! Now they think I’m a slob.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” I asked politely as I tried to uncork a dry red. Of course, the cork fell into the bottle and the bottle slipped out of my hands, landing right in front of Mrs. Dunlop, sending red droplets on her pale blue dress. Just as I was about to apologize, Mr. Dunlop clutched his arm, then his chest. “Call an ambulance! He’s having a heart attack!” squealed Mrs. Dunlop. Do I need to tell you more, or can you guess where we spent the rest of the evening?
