Challenge
A Personal Opinion on the Power of Redundancy to Lift Up Your Writing and Deliver a Better End Product
Author's preface: A few years back Random House copy chief Benjamin Dreyer published an article in which he suggested a list of redundant words which he said we should "delete" from our writing. I took that as a challenge and prepared a short essay using as many of these words as I could squeeze in. Below is the final result of that effort.
By Everyday Junglist2 years ago in Writers
“The Enchanted Lighthouse”
Once upon a time, nestled on a remote stretch of coastline, there stood a lighthouse that held a secret. Aptly named "The Enchanted Lighthouse," its beacon not only guided ships safely through treacherous waters but also possessed a mystical power that few knew about.
By Mina Ayman2 years ago in Writers
"The Enchanted Forest: A Tale of Friendship and Adventure"
Once upon a time, in a land far away, there existed an enchanted forest, a place where dreams came alive and extraordinary adventures awaited. The forest was home to mystical creatures, shimmering waterfalls, and ancient secrets. Amidst this magical realm, two unlikely friends, Lily and Ethan, embarked on a journey that would change their lives forever.
By Mina Ayman2 years ago in Writers
Feeding the Ducks
I was writing long before I can recall scrawling words with ink. Not on paper but in oral fashion like my ancestors from long ago. I would tell elaborate stories, usually through song, to the trees in our yard or the animals at the barn. As a child, my life was a constant narrated musical of what I was doing, what I wanted, and how I was feeling. So, naturally, the first piece of writing I can remember putting to paper was an echo of a song; a poem.
By Laura Lann2 years ago in Writers
Broken Beauty
Being a poet at an age as young as 11, some might say is impossible. When one thinks of poetry, it is thought-provoking, gut-wrenching, heart-breaking, and how can an 11 year old possibly have enough worldly experience to write anything so meaningful and deep?
By Lizzy Rose2 years ago in Writers
The Prince's Eyes
It is strange what you can recall when the past recedes, warps and forces you to reconsider certain moments. This particular challenge is a challenge. Do we really remember the first time we wrote something just for ourselves? There is school, where the pen and paper are put in your hands and you are forced to write about things you may not care about, or to complete assignments that mean nothing to you. There are the letters and cards you might send to your friends, classmates and family. And then, if you do consider it, you want to write or create something of your own. All art is based on imitation of some kind. But I still have to wonder why I wrote that piece.
By Kendall Defoe 2 years ago in Writers
The First Piece I Ever Wrote
I have always loved writing. I used to create short stories when I was finished my school work back in elementary school and high school. I lived in fairytale lands because my real world wasn’t exactly sunshine and roses. I used to use my grandparents computer and come up with character names and gather plot ideas when I wasn’t busy stuffing my nose into a book.
By Chloe Rose Violet 🌹2 years ago in Writers
Quirks and Quacks in the Countryside
Mortimer, Neil and Phil Mortimer and Pals Neil and Phil In a quaint corner of the UK countryside, nestled between rolling hills and fields of lush green grass and wildflower meadows, lived a lovely old chap known as farmer Arthur. He was known throughout the villages for his hearty laugh, love for a good pint, and, of course, his peculiar flock of ducks. He lived alone on his small farm tending to a modest collection of feathered friends, each with its own unique charm, but one of his ducks, in particular, stood out from the rest. This unique duck was named Mortimer. Mortimer had an odd characteristic that raised more than a few eyebrows among the locals. While all the other ducks quacked merrily in their distinct voices, Mortimer, for reasons known only to him, honked like a ship's foghorn. Yep, you read that right—a deep, resonating honk that echoed across the local fields. It was as if he was a lighthouse or watchman for his buddies he certainly was a rather unconventional character.
By ColdHardCash2 years ago in Writers
The Little Writer
The memory is a little fuzzy around the edges, but some bits of it are sharp. I am sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a jumble of boots, shoes, sandals, trainers and slippers. Hunched forward over the pale plastic wellie-boot cradled in my lap. My pudgy fingers gripping my stolen treasure - a blue biro. I huff my fringe out of my eyes to better see my craft and avoid smudging the blue ink.
By L.C. Schäfer2 years ago in Writers
