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GCSE: Writing to Inform, Explain and Describe
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Writing to inform
- 1 Give factual information and use a formal style.
- 2 Use straightforward language to convey essential information. Your audience could be anyone.
- 3 Use the present tense, write in short clear sentences, address the reader as 'you'. Use connectives and technical terms.
- 4 Break up your writing with diagrams, illustrations, images and subheadings.
- 5 You can give more information (eg: why and what you find interesting) and the genre could ask you to give instructions, write recipes, give directions or write manuals.
Writing to explain
- 1 Establish who you are writing to and why you are writing.
- 2 Genre – Explaining data, giving a speech or explaining how a mechanism works.
- 3 Purpose – To be clear, to show meaning and to make something clearer.
- 4 Write in the third person, use either past or present tenses, use clear factual language.
- 5 Give a balanced view and use connectives of comparison (whereas, though, while, unless, however).
Writing to describe
- 1 Your thoughts and feelings are important.
- 2 Genre – Writing a story, describe a scene, writing a diary entry.
- 3 Purpose is to build an image in the reader's mind.
- 4 Use adjectives and adverbs, similes, metaphors and all five senses ( touch, smell, taste, sight, sound).
According to Soren Kierkergaard, a prominent existentialist, in Stephen J. Dubner's novel, Turbulent Souls, the protagonists, Stephen, Veronica, and Paul Dubner, are the quintessential "Knights of Faith".
Every night, when Florence's mother would come up the stairs from the candy store she would say to Florence, "Your father, he works so hard he must be made from iron. And Florence in her singsong voice, always gave the same retort: Well then, he better not go out in the rain or he'll get all rusty"(3). Florence had a special connection with her father, and it was only her mother who she ridiculed. Both Florence and her father did not appreciate how "Esther would prattle on about her brother the big fabric man, who just bought a new house,
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once reviewed a small object was found; a rubber ball, smaller than a table tennis ball it was found near the bodies. Abby had followed the news readings closely on the television and on the radio. Partly because the murders were happening so close to her, and partly because of the mysteriousness of the circumstances. Old-fashioned mysteries are what fascinated Abby, she devoured them one after the other. She loved the suspense, the hairs on the back of her neck that stood up when she was engrossed in a novel.
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He was twenty-five. The girls, Gamma and Rox were also very different. Gamma was another blond. She was twenty-three but with no sense of responsibility. She had a very wide knowledge of guns and was quite good at making up strategies at short notice. She had joined Kougar after she found out about it through word in the underground gangster community. She had grown up surrounded by gangsters and was good at dangerous negotiations. A good friend who knew that she was looking for money had told her about Kougar. She had signed up with Kougar immediately and if asked she would tell you she had never regretted that decision.
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But it's just not the same. She's not my real mum and my mother, I have never known. I've often thought about asking Peaches about her but I know she hates the subject. I'm not sure why but I think it's because she's scared I might run off to find her, it would be good to know who she is. We live alone at 43 Heckleton Rd, Rowlsdemshire, next door to my best friend Nicolie Knowles. Nicolie is a very smart girl.
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This is the most suitable competiton prize ever created the most perfect of all time. This was because Ashleigh loves will as much as I love Gaz, and we could be in with a chance of meeting our Popidols together. So we both decided to enter the competition time and time again. Anyway so as I was looking through my old magazines, I came across that piece of paper with a competition entry I did with some spelling mistakes. To win the competition you had to describe in no more than 100 words why you were the biggest Gareth/will fan - well that was easy for me because I am the biggest Gareth Gates fan.
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We had no choice so we decided to just go to my cousin's party instead. They say it must be fate. I say, maybe we're just soulmates. Yes, I do believe in such a thing. I'm a little bit of a believer you know, I believe in destiny, kismet, luck and all others. But not when it's a Romeo and Juliet kind of thing. Don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of Will Shakespeare, but based on what I see with the world today, well, that makes me a bit cynical. Yes, I know it's a little bit of a clash with my whole believer attitude but who cares.
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It's really small for China. It only got 40.000 citizens. But this city is something special. The old part is still fully surrounded by the old city wall and the streets are like China 100 years ago. There are still the old style houses with their small shops in the ground floor, the vendors on the street selling everything from meat over shoes to spices and clothes and many tiny food stalls where you can buy every Chinese delicacy you like to have.
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What it can do. With control over your ESP you will have and edge in life. Just image what you'll be able to do that others only read about in books. The possibilities are endless. You can read minds, play with superman's x-ray vision, get a taste of things to come, know what your opponents' cards are without sneaking a peak, the force will be with you to move objects, influence the roll of a die, get that raise you needed for years, find that special someone, communicate with another fellow ESP master from thousands of miles away in the blink of an eye, directly sharing feelings and emotions, etc.
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His eyes remained staring at the floor. "What's going on? Why does everything feel so wrong?" I asked, moving closer to him. I wanted him to pull me close, I wanted him to open up to me and tell me what was going on in his head. I couldn't read his thoughts, like I usually could. It was as if that bond, that closeness, which we shared, was slowly fading. He still didn't answer me. He still refused to look at me. This was doing my head in. I hated the feeling of insecurity that was slowly washing over me.
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The bathroom is dimly lit by a single bulb which has been neglected and without any sort of covering. When you walk around the room you cant help but notice the worn down and patch green caret. Areas are lighter when people have walked moist such as toilet and route top and the sink and bath. Other than these few trails the carpet looks almost new. After he has finished brushing his badly chipped teeth and combing his heavily greasy, knotted shoulder length brown hair. He washes his face to rinse off last nights sleep and to begin a new day looking his best he uses Clearasil to clean his pores and prevent even more red lumps on his face.
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Hundreds of children must have been born there and we all had something in common. I realised that day, that I've probably seen many of these children, or adults, in my fourteen years of living. They too, have probably seen me but none of us realised that we all had something in common. I sat there for a long time, thinking about the beauty of life and how amazing the work of God is, how a tiny human lives in its mother's stomach for nine months.
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"Clocking in late again I see Andy?" "Do me a favour Mike, don't tell anyone, this story has to be in in five minutes, if anyone found out like last time I wouldn't have a job!" "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me bud" "Thanks" This was Andy. A fine storywriter and a wizard of words, he was what his boss liked to call a 'fucking lucky bastard'. Born on a rough estate in London he had written a short story about his life as a boy, he sent it off to a local paper and had it printed because there was a spare column to fill.
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I had learned long ago that running away only added to the teachers suspsion. A few of the satyrs were grinning. Which was no surprise to me since almost all the satyrs in the classroom had a score to settle with Mr. Sarcroth. When Mr. Sarcroth woke up Flip took over. "Mr. Sarcroth you should have seen yourself" Flip said. "You acted like you were in a fight with a serwager. You fell asleep then ou rolled over on the floor and you bashed you nose when you were rolling around on the floor."
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He and the little girl, June Star, were reading the funny papers on the floor. "She wouldn't stay at home to be queen for a day," June Star said without raising her yellow head. "Yes and what would you do if this fellow, The Misfit, caught you?" the grandmother asked. "I'd smack his face," John Wesley said. "She wouldn't stay at home for a million bucks, " June Star said. "Afraid she'd miss something. She has to go everywhere we go." "All right, Miss," the grandmother said. "Just remember that the next time you want me to curl your hair."
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He shut his eyes and dreamed as he swayed with the jolts the dirt road gave the van. What seemed like hours had passed when the van finally stopped. A minute later, the doors opened and the man was pulled out, still cuffed, masked and shackled. He was escorted into a large important looking building filled with blue uniformed men. The man was led through a maze of corridors and pass checks. They came to a narrow, brightly lit, warm corridor with sound proofed walls and bullet-proof Perspex panels and doors that opened in on to neat holding cells.
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She grasped the tiny blade in her small hands, and brought it across the throat of the man. Slowly, deep, red blood trickled down his pale neck. There was a delayed reaction, his eyes taken aback with surprise. The pain choked him. But he wasn't focusing on the pain...for in his dying seconds he managed to utter one word. 'Why...?' and with that he took his final breath. The woman, with a smug expression on her hidden pace, slipped something into the fallen mans back pocket, tapped him into the river, and as quickly as she had come, disappeared into the night.
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An assistant then walked into the office and reported a missing worker. Without him a tank of oil wouldn't be able to be shipped off. Mike left his office and went to go and look for him. He would have sent someone else to go looking but he felt he deserved a break from the sweaty conference room he had been stuck dealing in all morning. An hour later and Mike still hadn't found the missing worker. He went to the front reception and rang the worker's house, no answer. There was just one last sector of the campus he hadn't checked.
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"Good job, do not let her out of your sight, over and out." "Over and out" The crackling transmission ended and the commander's attention was switched back to trying to withhold the rioters persistence. This would be a long struggle. The spotlight beamed down on the instigator as if she had been summoned by the Gods. Instantly, she looked up to see who or what had singled her out from the hectic squabble around her. Immediately she ducked and scurried through the hustling crowd seeking a place to hide.
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She looked at the floor and her tears dropped onto the blue fluffy carpet, making it moist. The policeman twisted his cap nervously in his hand and then left. Rhonda was in shock. Who would kill the love her life and what for? She picked up her phone and called her sister Laura. Laura couldn't believe it. She invited Rhonda to stay at her house for a few days, so she could lay low. She could not go out, not even to work. Rhonda packed a suitcase, turned on her answer machine and set off for her sister's house at the other side of New York.
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It was then that the thought that she felt vulnerable, weak and insecure came to my mind. And then I thought to my self, the hopes of seeing my father alive again would never fade, as my prayers would increase. I took a glance at the seat across, where my sister was sitting and I made myself promise to never let her feel the way I did, but instead, I would try and make her feel happy, safe and secure until my father got back safely to us.
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"Just a coke please its too early for anything else." Prince replied. She poured the coke and slid it across the wooden bar. Prince gave her the money for it and she nodded and quickly scurried away back to the conversation she was having with a group of people about her age. Prince took a small sip of his drink and sat it back down on the beer mat. He looked at his cheap watch noting that it was now 9:36; Prince wondered why Karl was late.
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Kira, who I fancied, was the same height as me, rather beautiful in my own eyes, had long hair brownish hair down to her waist, brown eyes and a lovely face. I was the oldest there but also the most immature at times. I had blond hair and quaff that would have made Elvis proud. As the plane landed I could see in the distance a really tall building and could just make out the writing plastered across it, it said 'Haunted Tower' and it looked cool, even from that far away.
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Brandon tried to shout for help but his throat felt constricted. Brandon swallowed hard and felt the teeth sink deeper into his neck. Brandon looked up and saw a shooting star. Make a wish. He blacked out. The five men in the room eyed each other silently. The room was deathly silent. Each of the men was dressed in black suits, their faces pale. A tall man sitting at the head of the table finally broke the silence 'How is the training programme coming along?'
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Harper gazed in the mirror. Everything was to military precision. His blue eyes had not lost the desperation and soulessness that the dark alleyways of Dublin required. He picked up his rifle and placed a finger in a notch of unpolished metal. It was this small dip, in the butt of the gun, which gave Patrick Harper the small amount of Gaelic luck, which soldiers said was invincible. He just wanted to get out of this room. It was too much to bear; knowing that Allie was never coming back.
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I spotted this gorgeous black girl, good looking fit and extremely gorgeous. I was speechless as if my mom gave my slap on the cheek; I could not stop thinking about her I kept hearing my dad was calling me. I had to ignore him cause I just too focused, It felt empty around as if I was floating in an empty world of mine just her and me. Inside of me I felt like shouting all my anger and bringing love in me. I kept on starring, trying to communication, eye contact, whilst my dad calling me, I couldn't keep my eyes off her I couldn't blink.
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