Hello there, Mr Salles!
Attached is my story "A Foxglove Promise" in response to 2023 Language Paper 1 Question 5, as promised. I've attached both the PDF and an editable Word version for your reference.
I also want to thank you once again for your resources and videos which have clearly been helpful – landed me 40 out of 40 marks for this question! I spent roughly 50 minutes writing my answer, it is a bit lengthy so here is a synopsis of sorts before you delve into the whole piece:
“This story follows the journey of Evette, a wallflower within her village, Kiftan, which has started rotting under the darkness of a plague. She has been ordered to meet Death in the Fated Forest to save Kiftan– who will encounter who first?”
Also, here are my top 5 tips for writing which helped me before my GCSEs:
Keep a clear vision of your narrator in mind. I tried to embody an elderly fairytale storyteller within question 5. It definitely helped me immerse myself into my storyline and setting.
Look for inspiration before the exam/before writing. The people, scenery and general ideas within your usual life may inspire you to develop interesting ideas for your story.
Try to emulate real conversations into the dialogue - think about real people conversing in real life and try to apply that to your characters.
Always link your story/description to the question - make sure to include whatever feature is mentioned in the question e.g. the question "Write a story about a human meeting an animal" must remind you to mention an animal encounter somewhere in your story, even if it's a few sentences.
Don't maintain a rigid "formula" for writing/describing - try to accept whatever you are writing at the moment of your exam. Pre-planned pieces sometimes work out, but it reads much more naturally and less "memorised" or robotic when you write what you believe is more relevant to the question or the theme you intend to write about.
Hope this will be useful for future videos.
If you have any questions or require further explanation and analysis, please let me know!
Melina Shakkara
NOTE:
This tale was written through the perspective of a rambling fairytale writer/storyteller who has the urge to avoid meeting Death (a personified character) at all costs. However, throughout the story, it is clear that Evette is already under the influence of the force she’s demanded to encounter for the sake of saving Kiftan (this is why she is disoriented, tired and shows symptoms of severe “time blindness”).
It is up to interpretation whether the fox was a “messenger”/symbol of Death and if her “sleep” would ever see her awaken again.
The title “A Foxglove Promise” hints at Evette’s last words, Death, the fox, Evette’s love for plants and the poisonous nature of the plague.
I was aiming for a more fantastical, whimsical feel through my writing style, and I sincerely hope I achieved that. Thank you for reading!
My Reply
Thank you Melina,
This is insanely great writing. If you hadn't sent me the PDF, I would wonder whether it was possible to write this under exam conditions!
I just love so much about it, especially how you describe everything in terms of a flower - so clever, and also quite beautiful. (The metaphor of the chrysalis was the only time I noticed you break from this - I'd definitely edit that).
I felt there were too many adjectives in the first half - each of them worked perfectly, but together they were like planting too many seeds in the ground - only some will have room to grow.
The appearance of the fox instead of death is very odd - as a first chapter it would have me gripped. As a short story on its own (forget about the exam - this is way beyond 40/40) I would feel I had many more questions than answers at this stage.
Your whimsical tone, directly addressing the reader, is so engaging and sophisticated. I loved it.
It might seem strange that I've offered you ways to improve something that scored full marks, but you can be a great writer. If you do write any short stories or a novel, I'll be happy to advertise them on my channel and in my Substack.
Yes, I do have some questions:
What did you score in the other questions?
How did you do in literature?
What are your top tips for the literature exam?
What A levels are you going to take, and why/why not English.
How many books do you read in a month?
Thanks again for this amazing writing.
Oh, and would you like to be named or anonymous?
Dominic
Melina
Hello Sir,
Thank you so much for the compliments and for the criticism, very helpful. I agree with the first half being littered with too many adjectives - I vomited all of the adjectives I had planned to write on paper without deeper thought about their overall placement etc. due to the adrenaline rush I was feeling right at the start of the exam. Upon calming down, I began writing something more tame (without overusing "big", unnecessary words just for the sake of it).
I've tried to answer your questions as well as I possibly could:
Score in other questions - I'm afraid I had to make a compromise due to the quality of my Q5 answer - the others were written quite hurriedly with the little bit of time I seemed to have left (not very well thought-out time management on my part, I must admit) and so did not get awarded too many marks. Discounting the 40 marks from the total number of marks for Paper 1 left me with 21, so I achieved an overall score of 61/80. Creative writing has always been something I was more confident about than analysis, so I considered the risk of spending more time and effort on the last question/starting with it first and took it.
On a good note, Literature went well for me. I earned a score of 60/80 for Paper 1, and for Paper 2 I got 85/96.
Top Tips for the literature exam:
Ensure that you analyse from the writer's perspective - the characters in the book/novella/play are not real, but they do represent important messages the actual writer of the play may be trying to convey. I know from experience that I can sometimes get lost in the story and analyse the character's "own" decisions as though they are real people, but that's not the case. I find that reminding myself about the writer's intentions actually provides me with deeper and more meaningful analyses.
Think out of the box - I feel as though examiners have to plough through hundreds of versions of the same type of idea or concept - sometimes it may be refreshing to offer a completely unique idea (not the same as far-fetched) about a character or context. This lets examiners know that you are actively critiquing the text and inferring for yourself rather than passively spewing out information you've learned about it, and it makes your answer seem like it's written by "you" and not "candidate number 1000".
Only include context where it's relevant and/or key to the text - It's better to refer to context that actually supports your analysis of the text; this way, you can further your understanding of a specific idea or theory the writer is promoting and how it links to the text. When you understand this, it becomes a lot easier to seamlessly embed pieces of context within your analysis paragraphs and not seem as irrelevant or awkward.
Don't memorise EVERY poem - You don't have to memorise each and every poem (which would not only be impossible but quite tiring), but pick a few that can relate to each key theme. For example, for my GCSEs I only memorised/closely-studied quotes from Ozymandias, My Last Duchess, War Photographer, Remains, London and Exposure. These all connect to a range of themes expressed in the anthology, so scattering your focus on a range of poems will increase the likelihood that you can ace any question that has the potential to come up in your exam. It's better to spread quality over quantity than try to memorise every single one of the 14 potential poems you'll be asked to write about - and much better than hoping you'll turn into a foreseer or mind-reader the night before your exam.
Don't underestimate the joy of "rereading" - It's not compulsory to read over all the texts for your exam, but it will definitely help you refresh your memory of quotes and characters. It may seem boring to simply sit there and read all the books, but it's not a must - there are great resources out there to quickly summarise key events of a book or go into detail of your favourite character. For example, podcasts, audiobooks, youtube videos of timelines and main storylines, and even cartoons/shows based off of the book may be a good way to capture the core essence of the text. Do make sure to do some further research, though, such as cross-checking quotes and their meanings and verifying which parts of a movie actually resemble the book's events. The book's always better, though :)
4. My chosen A-Levels - I am currently studying Biology, Psychology and English Combined (Lang & Lit) along with Core Maths (in the place of an EPQ qualification). I've decided to take English Combined as I have a great interest in creative writing and it would prove useful for becoming a writer one day, if that's what I'm looking to do in the future. In my opinion, Literature was too content-heavy whereas Language alone felt overly scientific, so English Combined A-Level seemed like the middle-ground as it incorporated a bit of both subjects.
3. How many books I read a month - Around 2 or 3 if I'm feeling up to it, otherwise I take my time with just 1 book per month. Especially with A-Levels, I'm having a harder time balancing book-reading opportunities with my studies, but I am quite enjoying reading the required books for A Level English.
Thank you for asking these questions and for reading my story, I hope my answers were sufficient and that I have done English Language justice 😊 . I would also love to take up the offer of advertisement if I ever get around to writing a short story or full novel, it would be highly appreciated!
Many thanks once again. Oh, and it's up to you, Sir, but I don't mind being named.
Melina
A Foxglove Promise, by Melina Shakkara
The entire village of Kiftan was rotting from within, Evette observed.
Not simply rotting – dying.
It was a strange occurrence at first, as wooden spoons crumbled before the governor’s maids’ eyes, which glowed an eerie red before the ebullient stove’s flames. The governor was informed of this situation at once, on an innocent, unsuspecting day which Evette spent tending to her dear grandmother’s herbs in the garden. It was also a day during which the crystal shade of lilies became foggy; the basil’s lush green tone twisted into an ugly brown the colour of putrid, cantankerous death.
Evette, poor girl, could do nothing but gaze forlornly upon her dead plants. She would have called for her grandmother to inspect the wretched, black rose petals smattering her palms with black ink: if only she were still alive.
Instead, a thunderous rapping sounded at the door, demanding an answer just as Evette wished for one about her plants. A voice called out, “By the order of the governor, open the door!”
Evette stiffened. The governor? The governor brought nothing but trouble of a virulent, vile green.
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She rushed to the door nonetheless, as she did not dare to deny the governor’s command. Although, looking back upon this moment, perhaps Evette ought to have closed her eyes, closed the door and continued to open her heart to the secure safety of the garden. Yet, as she opened the door, all thoughts of blushing pink geraniums and honey-lemon vines vanished as if they were mere dandelion clocks eloping with the teasing wind. Her gaze immediately shifted to two guards with crisply cut uniform and cherry-red plumes of feathers on their helmets.
One of the guards, the one with the sour countenance, spoke. “Madam, you are called upon by the governor himself. The plague requires a sacrifice and you, madam, are apparently the perfect one.”
Evette’s world imploded. Gone were her flowers and gardens. In its place crawled pernicious vines from which thin, thin webs seeped.
“But why?”
The second guard laughed a crazed, conniving cackle. “Well, my dear, the governor has ordered you to be sacrificed to Death himself in order for Kiftan to be purged of the plague. A merry exchange, no?”
The woman was sure her cheeks became pure white peace lilies – although there was nothing quite peaceful about her circumstance. Hell, the lilies paled in comparison to the darkness she would face.
“Jev, I’m not sure if this young lady has caught wind of the plague and the like.” Another laugh ensued, crashing into Evette’s mind with the callousness of a snapdragon. Her glazed eyes cleared immediately, the richness of a cedar tree piercing the guards.
The guards coughed, and explained to Evette that she must travel to the Fated Forest to, well, face her fate. She did not say a word in response to this kind request, with the guards warning her of the crimson colour of the consequences if she decided to stray from the governor’s demands.
With a slight nod from Evette, they were gone.
Her legs felt as though she could snap them like mere daisy stems, her heart burning with a million unspeakable scenarios.
Nothing but determination was rooted in her mind, strong yet apprehensive branches scaffolding her thoughts.
She would die, she decided.
She would die for nothing but an unnamed plague spewing destruction.
She would die, facing Death himself with a burning gaze of blood poppies and graceful lotus buds.
Dear reader, I could bore you for day and days with endless images and a detailed description of Evette’s journey through this wretched, Fate Forest – however, I beg you to understand the urgency of the situation at hand. I do not intend to dawdle or attempt to distract you from the dangers of the plague, for Evette must face the imminent possibility of Death a tad bit early for the sake of her beloved village (which consists of villagers whose names remain unknown to Evette, a mere wallflower, yet who continue to remain near and dear).
So, Evette walked with lightly-treading feet. She preferred to be barefoot, you see, and so carried on with the utmost care while avoiding the sharp daggers of fallen leaves whose passionate colours reflected their heroism. She continued, walking and walking and walking. No one was accompanying her, or so she thought; simply the high-spirited toadstools gathered in circles like an oddly-strung group of friends, the silence of the birds at this time of dawn, and the sleepy sun dozing down, down, down beneath the treetops.
Soon, Evette noticed the stars would wink down at her as the sky darkened – as she noticed this (never did anything go unnoticed by her), her foot collided with a small, obtrusive boulder on the forest floor with the grace of a cat caught urinating on a flower-bed by an outraged mistress. This fall defeated the woman.
She stayed there, looking up at the blooming dawn in the sky, breathless from her journey. The Fated Forest was harsh, although not unforgiving towards the likes of her. Now, beneath the dawning sky, she curled up, a caterpillar turning towards the coziness of its chrysalis. Death could confront her another day if he so wished, she thought.
She was dizzy, drunk from the perfume of the faerie’s home, the disappearing sunlight, the heady green of moss.
All was silent.
Nothing was dying.
Reader, it may seem as though this is the end of the story. You see, it never is. That is what catches most people out, the surprising continuation of a tale, like the cycle of death and constant rebirth of the Fated Forest’s trees, mighty and the colour of a warm, fresh hot chocolate mixed with bluebell day.
While Evette was experiencing the alluring tale of the Forest, something – someone, rather – was watching her steadily. And, not too long after you, dear reader, Evette realised she was being watched. Her blurred gaze fell upon a spot so orange she could have mistaken it for the sun – no, not a spot, she realised. A lissom, vulpine figure.
Could it be Death? No, surely Death would hide himself much better than that. Death was the decrepit, decaying nature of withered periwinkle upon grandmother’s grave. Death, surely, was hardened and poisonous and grasping, chasing one as if their tax was to be repaid right at that second, as if they were a romantic thief stealing from a flower for their lover to hold and cherish.
No, this figure did not seem interested in chasing – he simply looked onwards with the utter tranquillity of a honeydew.
A fox.
Evette’s cedar-tree eyes locked onto the fox’s slanted, burning ones. She’d have thought the plague wildly marred the entirety of Kiftan, yet the fox remained wonderful and alive and gazing.
The fox, without hesitation, dashed towards Evette. Its bushy tail curled across her face, and she supressed a sneeze.
If this was Death, perhaps dying was not so awful.
Evette’s gaze wandered back to the sky, the thought of escapism fuelling the fire in her eyes. She could see it, the dangerous promise of escape trickling like thick honey from the winking stars above. Evette wanted to steal all the secrets salvaged by the stars. She could almost hear the sweet, euphonious persuasion from the constellations themselves.
Sleep came, promising green-tinted scenery and the sweet joys of spiralling leaves and skipping amber foxes.
Death could face her another day.