Writing with Stardust: The Ultimate Descriptive Guide for students, parents, teachers and writers (3 page)

                                        LEVEL 4: ADVANCED PARAGRAPHS

I was the first to chance upon the brook. It was a fragile,
duck-egg blue
colour, like the subtle sweep of a painter’s brush.
Seeping and snaking
smoothly past all obstacles, it managed to
hurdle
the river’s boulders also.
Twigs twirled
on its
murmuring
surface, little messengers from the mountain trees where they had come from. The brook flowed over the pebbled riverbed. It sounded like the airy, velvety whirl of a starling flock.

The mountains stood silently in the background, a brooding presence of sky punching majesty. Brooches of snow covered their lofty peaks, encircling them in wreaths of angel-white. A weeping waterfall poured from a gash in the rock face. It looked like a slide of silk-blue flowing down the mountain. Carrying its load of ice crystals, it appeared hemmed with silver. A distant thrumming sound emanated from it, like the steady rumble of a drum roll.
Glinting brightly
, it fed the river,
the
lifeblood of the forest
. It was an awe-inspiring sight.

My gaze returned to the swirling brook. I could see now how the water had gained its glassy clarity. The run off from the ice made it appear varnish clear and the surface glinted as if dream dust had been scattered over it. Speckled trout drifted under the shady eaves of the bank, flicking their tails lazily. If a juicy fly happened to pass them, they would explode from the pebbled bed like angels of death. Arcing into the air, their bodies glistening, they hovered briefly, performing the ballet of the river. Then, with a plunking sound, they would dart back to the shadowed depths, their catch already safe in their spotted bellies. The watery grace of the river seemed magical to me at that moment.

The riverbank was lined with pods of wild peas. The pods were black, but inside there were tiny, succulent, fresh peas. I tasted one and it was
scrumptious
. Never did food wrapped in the devil’s cloak taste so good! Bending down, I scooped a hand through the water and drank my fill. It was
thirst-quenching.
I leaned my back against a rock and closed my eyes, enjoying the sun’s warmth. The
sweet perfume
of the forest drifted to my nostrils as I reflected on the beauty of nature.

                       LEVEL 5: COMPLEX WRITING: THE FISHERMAN

We arrived just before dawn. The quiet of the world was wondrous to behold. It was as still as a crypt and even the moth flutter had died down.

The mist gave us a hint that we were still in the nether world between night and day. It lingered over the river like a phantom’s veil. Soundless, voiceless and soulless, it slowly slid away. Its misty fingers clasped despairingly at the body of water below it one last time. Then it faded, allowing the Technicolor of nature to be turned up like a light switch.

The river that
meandered
through the forest was a bright,
dragonfly-blue
. A soft, watery murmur of elegance came from its sensuous journey over the chalky bed.
Purring and purling
, it flowed with all the smooth grace of rippling satin. In places, its languorous passage was blocked by obdurate rocks. Heedless, it
bounded
over their stony armour, carelessly tossing bubbles of spray into the air. The
spray was glimmering like tiny crystals
. It was an
elixir for the soul
to witness nature’s sights and sounds in the glory of the morning.

Further up the river,
a lone fisherman
stood framed by the hunched mountains in the background. The gentle whirring of his reel came to our ears. It clicked now and then, followed by the swish of his line as it creased the air. Face tight with concentration, he flicked his wrist and the fly zipped over to rest on a whirlpool. Bobbing with the current, it suddenly disappeared. The tip of his rod bent, jerked, vibrated and plunged violently downwards.

A leviathan of the deep rose up from the gritty depths of the river. He burst through the surface with a frenzied leap, vaulting into the cold air. At the same time, the line made a snappy, hissing sound. The fisherman staggered back a step. He looked forlorn as the fish of his lifetime slapped the water on his way back to freedom. Then came the thousand yard stare common to all the vanquished fishers of the river. He stood motionless, his gaze eventually toing and froing from rod to river and back again. We felt sorry for him and moved away silently, leaving him wrapped in his own dejection.

We stopped by a glopping spring to get a drink of water. It was arctic pure and
thirst-slaking
. The forests
earthy cologne
swirled around us and we gathered some wild hazelnuts. They were as
sublime
as the river that nourished the forest.

                              USING COLOUR

When someone takes the time to read a story, they are putting their faith in the writer. Although no one expects perfection, there are certain standards that may be expected. If it is handwritten, it should be neat and easily read. A minimum standard of grammar and mechanics should also be expected, relative to age, ability and whether English is the first language of the writer. The excuses run out when it comes to describing colours, however. Every student of English, regardless of ability, should be encouraged to enrich their writing with a
specific
or suggested colour
.

In this book, every colour in the grids is preceded with an adjective. It is up each individual, whether student or teacher, parent or lover of English, to make their judgement on this. In my opinion, an effective simile is just as devastating as a colour with an adjective. For example, it would be wonderful if a child wrote a battle scene that included the following lines:

“The sky was
as black as an abyss
. Underneath the
starless sky
, the faces of the soldiers were
as white as a winter’s moon
”.

Unfortunately, very few students are capable of this. It is much more preferable if they were to follow the formulas used in the book. By using colours with an object associated with them, they are using metaphors, perhaps without realising it. For example, if a student were to use a
Babylon-blue sky
, they are comparing it to the sky above Babylon, lending a biblical slant to the writing. It adds a freshness and clarity to the writing that might otherwise be absent.

The reason the colours in the book are hyphenated is that it provides for an economy of expression. It goes without saying that specifying a colour by associating an object or idea with it lends a clearer mental image in the mind of both student and reader. Whether the student portrays a
halo-white mountain
or
Viking-gold hair
, it ornaments the passage with a rich texture and lucid imagery.

In the hints given in the ‘Narrative Styles’ section, reference was made to a painting. That is what a student should be encouraged to think about. Every planned page of descriptive writing can be seen as a blank canvas to be filled in. In time, the teacher or parent will find their child will start using a
contrast of colours
naturally. For a battle scene this might include:
mercury-red blood, a bat-black sky and nickel-silver armour
. For an essay on spring, it might include: an
electric-blue river, a nut-brown forest and a paradise-green
field
. The student is now using figurative language. These metaphors will inject any piece of writing with the sprinkling of stardust needed for a better grade.

                        
MOUNTAINS

                                   
COLOUR

  LEVEL 1        LEVEL 2         LEVEL 3         LEVEL 4        LEVEL 5          OTHERS

1. The dove-white mountain
soared into the sky
.

2. The seashell-white mountain
jutted into the sky
.

3. The phantom-white mountain
reared into the sky
.

4. The lice-white mountains were sombre and
towered over us
.

5. The fang-white mountains were brooding and
loomed over us
.

                                                       SOUND

1. I heard a clapping sound and a huge
wall of snow
crashed down
.

2. Rumbling and roaring, a
wave of white
surged down the mountain side.

3. A deep, booming noise erupted and the flank of the mountain became a
chute of white
.

4. We heard a sinister, growling sound and
a
cascade of white
thundered down the mountain.

5. A bellowing sound rent the air and
a
tsunami of snow
sluiced down the flank of the mountain.

                                                         SHAPE

1. The wrinkled mountains were
cocoon quiet
.

2. The craggy mountains were
Zion quiet
.

3. The
nirvana quiet
mountains had jagged peaks.

4. The knobbly face of the mountain was grizzled and
sacristy quiet
.

5. We gazed up at the rugose and rough-hewn mountains with a sense of awe. They were mysterious and
catacomb quiet
.

                                                        ACTION

1. A
ring of snow
covered the sky-punching mountain.

2. A
bracelet of snow
topped the sky-spearing mountain.

3. A
brooch of snow
draped the heaven-kissing mountain.

4. The snow-hooded mountains were encased in a
necklace of white
.

5. The snow-festooned mountain peaks were embalmed with
tiaras of powdery snow
.

                                             
PATHETIC FALLACY