Alright, since I'm an angsty teenager (well, more teenager than angsty), I need to rant. And it's a good idea to rant about school since I spend eight hours or more a day there anyways.
Anyways, my teacher, who we will call Mr. A for our purposes, said that we'd be doing creative writing. The second you use "creative" and "writing" in a sentence, my ears automatically perk up, right? Creative writing is my strong point. So Mr. A described the assignment--a narrative essay about a pivotal event in your life--and slapped a due-date on it, which is, of course, tomorrow. Since when have I ever effectively managed my time besides NaNoWriMo?
So I went home and, well, I didn't actually look at the rubric he gave us for days. So let's fast-forward to today. I'm reading over my rubric and starting to type my essay. You know, cracking my knuckles and going, This is a piece of cake. And then I actually started writing my essay, trying to abide to The Rubric. And that was the hard part.
First of all, we weren't allowed to use any "be" verbs more than twice if we wanted an A. How many times have I used a "be" verb in this blog post? This blog post would not get an A. Secondly (all these transitions make this sound like a persuasive essay, ugh), we had to have "three complications that propel the conflict". I don't understand how we can have three complications if the story is about something that happened in real life and you can't change past events.
I don't know, I just hate structured writing. I love creative writing because it's so freeform. You just do whatever you want and people read it. It's great. But this is not creative writing. This is limited. This is graded. Screw this, man.
Okay. Teenage vent over. Have a nice night.
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