Context and Reflection
This is a "Slice of Life" piece. It's a small "slice" of a day in your life- exploded with detail and figurative language, such as similes and personification. This piece helps to show my knowledge of figurative language use because this piece of writing demands vivid details, and figurative language can help you do that.I chose this piece because it reflects who I am outside of school. I love playing softball, and I also love playing competitively, so this piece reflects my personality.
Before I revised, my writing wasn't very interesting. It didn't have details to pull readers in. Now, my piece shows, not tells. It has figurative language by the bushel and tons of details. These make the piece all the more interesting for the reader. I did two drafts and then did a four step revision conference with my mom (who is an English major) and then made my final. I also changed my word choice a lot. That made each sentence more enriching with a better word each time.
And now my piece!
Softballs-Not So Soft
Do you know the feeling of a close game? That's what I felt on the Elmira field. I desperately wanted a win. It might be our only chance. And I was at bat.My heart pounded as I stepped into the chalk batter's box with my trusty black and yellow bat. My gloved fingers gripped the bat tightly as I envisioned hearing the thwack of the bat connecting with the ball.
I took a deep breath and shook my helmeted head, doing my before-at-bat ritual. I cleared my mind, then narrowed my eyes. I watched the dark-haired girl who was pitching as she fingered the ball.
The pitch was in the dirt. It bounced off home with a dull thunk and rolled in the dirt.
I stepped out of the box to see if my coach wanted to give me a sign. He didn't give me a sign, so I turned back to the pitcher and silently dared her to throw me a strike.
My bat swished and missed the ball. Rage boiled up inside me as I saw her little grin. I ignored that smug little smile and wished for revenge.
What happened next couldn't have been more different.
For a split second, I saw the ball in the dirt. The next thing I knew, my right ankle howled in pain. I dropped my bat from shock and grabbed my foot, my face contorted with pain. I waved away my coach and umpires and walked proudly to first base.
When my coach gave the signal to steal, I ran as fast as lightning for second. The ball had been overthrown! I scrambled to my feet and headed to third. As soon as the play was over, I breathlessly high-fived my coach. Then I thundered home on the next pitch and slid.
"SAFE!"
I had a grin all over my face as I beat the dust off my pants and high-fived my teammates at the same time. I felt like a contributor and a valued player; even if being hit was the price.
