Writing with Stardust: The Ultimate Descriptive Guide for students, parents, teachers and writers (11 page)

1. The wild roses smelled Eden sweet.

2. The crocuses on the waterfront smelled nirvana sweet.

3. The honeysuckle smelled Zion sweet.

                                                           TASTE

1. I took a drink from a lake stream. It tasted glassy and crisp.

2. It was spring fresh and sprightly.

3. It tasted crystalline and tundra pure, with an aftertaste of fresh sprite.

                                       LEVEL 1: BASIC SENTENCES

1. The lake was skyline-silver.
COLOUR

2. It lay in the middle of a cave quiet valley.
THE QUIET VALLEY

3. It was window clear.
THE CLEAR LAKE

4. It was peaceful and statue still.
THE STILL LAKE

5. Trout were dive bombing in the lake.
SOUND

6. A mob of flies rose into the air.
THE FLY ARMY

7. I had a ‘zap’ moment because it was so beautiful.
A MOMENT OF CLARITY

8. The itching grass snapped me out of it.
SENSATIONS OF PAIN

9. A sap sweet smell hung in the air.
SMELL

10. The water I drank was sharp but pleasant.
TASTE

                 
                     LEVEL 2: A BASIC PARAGRAPH

The lake was
as silver as diamond flame
and the atmosphere was
convent quiet
. Even the depths were
vodka clear
. It was soothing and
yogi still
. Freckled trout were leaping for flies and
thunking
on its surface. The rising sun caused
a division of
armed flies
to swarm into the air. The scene was so glorious that I had
a lightning bolt moment
. The
thistles pricking
my leg broke my train of thought. The damp grass smelled
utopian
. I took a sip of water from a stream. It tasted like
a sweet medicine
, a potion for the spirit.

                                       LEVEL 3: CREATIVE PARAGRAPHS

The lake appeared as if by magic as we crested the ridge. It was in
teardrop-silver
in colour and it was shaped like a perfectly flat disc of metal. No sound rang out from the shimmering emptiness of space around it.
Monastery quiet
, it was lined with pine trees and the whiff of mint wafted up to us. We decided to make our way to its
decanter clear
shore. The idyllic scene took our breath away. Unruffled by wind or rain, it was
vault still
and restful. The only sounds were the bumbling of bees and the heavy echo of a raven crawking.

Out on the lake,
flopping
trout were slapping the surface. They were hoping to catch one of the
squadron of flies
that buzzed about. The heaven-leaking light added a golden tint to the face of the lake and it was paradise. A startling
eureka moment
came unbidden, which involved the beauty of the natural world. I kept it to myself. The
nipping midges
didn’t take away from the pleasure of that day. I can still see the rain-pearled grass in my mind’s eye. I remember the
saccharine sweet
smell of that grass. I remember that the water
tasted like the nectar of the
gods
. Most of all, I remember how it felt to be young on that special day.

                                       
LEVEL 4: ADVANCED PARAGRAPHS

The lake was glimmering in the callow light of dawn. Local legend had it that a giant hand had scooped out a gash of rock aeons ago. Then a great heap of
argent-silver
was moulded and poured into it, hemmed in by precipitous hills.

A broad span of Tuscany-blue sky was slashed above it, making it appear like nature’s amphitheatre. The hollowness of the valley magnified all sounds, from burbling streams to the bumble of bees. The visage of the lake was
veneer-clear
and tranquil, flanked by avenues of cedar trees. There was
feng-shui
perfection to the scene, while the water was gilded with moonlight-pale lilies.
Plip-plopping
fish caused concentric rings to puff out and disappear as the air hummed all around us.
A phalanx of flies
was patrolling the water’s edge, called into service by the heaven-filtering light.

Tolkein-esque ferns swayed beside a brook that spiralled down from a turf moor. The water had a peaty texture, but pools of molten gold lay naked in the light. At the bottom, smooth-edged stones glowed amber with a witchery uncommon to the modern world. I sat on a rock, admiring the glorious lustre of the water. The dingle became
confessional-quiet
. I had
an alleluia moment
then and yearned for a time when the world was young. A small thorn had
spiked
my foot, but it didn’t break my reverie. The rain-winkled grass cast a silver sheen and the dewy air was laden with
cedar-sweet
smells. On impulse, I reached down and sipped from the stream. The taste was a mixture of rosewater and
chalybeate
that thrilled the tongue.

With a sigh, I got up forged my way homewards. It was a place with an eldritch beauty all of its own. I resolved to return one day to this halcyon paradise.

                
LEVEL 5: COMPLEX WRITING: THE BECALMED LAKE

I gazed upon the crumpled forehead of the mountain. It stabbed the clouds and loomed over me. It had a wizened and world weary aspect to it.

The first falls had made it snow snooded. A brooch of snow had clasped itself to the scalp of the mountain and it looked like the broken, jagged tooth of a hag. I could see the bare rock at the foot of it, however, as it hadn’t been enwrought in wilderness-white yet. Where the mountain didn’t block our view, the horizon was a perfect plumb line of pellucid-blue. A wing weary bird, sodden with the morning’s dew, flashed across my vision and faded out of sight.

At eye level, a serene lake lay in front of us. It was
womb quiet
and
as clear as moonshine
. The wan sun had not scorched away the mist yet. It was as foul as a devil’s broth, alien and otherworldly. It embalmed the space above the lake, rendering it
as
quiet as a sarcophagus
. I sat down to wait for its brumous sheen to be burned away by the sun. Within the hour, its spirit-like form started to waver. It began to drift away, trailing at the lake with its gauzy claws. When its nebulous shimmering finally ceased, it transformed into wisps and vanished.

The rain came then.

Like a druid’s spittle, it was sibilant and stinging. It hissed and fizzed, boiling the surface of the lake, then subsided. When it ceased, lasers of light broke through the clouds. They criss-crossed the water in thin lines and drenched it with their brilliant beams.
A brigade of flies
rose up, quavering their wings and thrumming the air. Their little flitting’s transformed into fluttery shadows on the
mere-silver water
. They couldn’t affect the mountain’s reflection at the edge of the lake. It seemed to be varnished onto it, like a glazed tattoo of elaborate beauty.

Only the occasional trout managed to explode its perfection. They were soaring up and
ker-plunking
down, causing mighty ripples which spiralled out to the island. The waves caused a twig to lollop in the water. Lichen-encased rocks gave the island its primeval quality, adding to the marvel of the occasion. I had
a
hallelujah moment
then, a moment of clarity. I could see that the splendour of the world was inspired by a divine force. I realized that nature’s sorcerous magic could salve the most oaken of hearts.

The
pinching ants
that clambered up my leg couldn’t spoil the moment. A
Zion sweet smell
of heather and gorse percolated towards me. I cupped a handful of water in order to taste the bounty of this awe-inspiring lake. It was
tundra pure
to the tongue, just as I had expected.

I feasted my eyes one last time on its transcendental beauty and made for home. It was a postcard-perfect vignette and I was sorry to leave it all behind.

                                      
    EUPHONY

Euphony is using soft vowels, mellow consonants and pleasant words to create a soothing
tone
. In essence, it is the use of individual letters and phonics (vocal sounds) in order to recreate a harmony of sound in your writing. It is asking a lot to expect a student or child to incorporate this into their writing if they were not previously aware of it. It is another technique that requires time and patience. You will find, however, that they love working with soft sounds and soothing letters if it is approached in the right way.

For example, if you ask any child what the softest word in the English language is, they will struggle. If you ask them what word they would use to stop a child crying, they will immediately say
shush
or
hush
. You can then explain that the letters ‘
sh
’ are the softest in the English language. A good exercise to try is to get them to write down what they think are the
softest
letters
in the English language. If you agree with the letters, ask them to write down a list of soft sounding words containing those letters. Once they have ten words, ask them to put the words into a grid like the one below. That is a grid for a waterfall. Any soft sounds in nature, such as a river, birdsong or a gentle wind may be attempted. Those who do very well at this will most likely have a high degree of musical intelligence also.

The ability to use euphony in writing is a gift. That gift can be imparted by some simple exercises. If your students can make their words resonate like the glassy tinkle of a champagne flute, then that is a reward in itself for an educator.

                        
WATERFALL GRID FOR EUPHONY

LETTERS
   
LEVEL 1             LEVEL 2          LEVEL 3          LEVEL 4         LEVEL5