Image by Dalle-2
Blue is a fantastic student, who looked at lots of feedback on her writing, to produce this.
Imagine it is a first chapter of a novel.
But, there was one huge problem. When she redrafted, Blue ended up adding over 200 words, taking her total to 1400 words. Too long for most students to write in an exam.
Redrafting is always about taking words away.
Human nature cannot handle this idea. We have what is called the additive bias. We will nearly always look to improve something by adding, never taking away.
So, this is how I took away from Blue’s writing to make it more manageable. To show, rather than tell.
You might like to read my redraft first. Then Ill show you both versions, side by side.
Here it is.
Bunting was strung across the rooftops like a criminal hanging from the gallows. It fluttered in the weak wind, bleached with age. Every house had some semblance of haphazardly thrown together decoration, coupled with patriotic signs and the country’s symbol— a rather pretentious golden eagle soaring into a shimmering sunset—painted on each door and window with a shaky hand.
None believed in this celebration— they did it to avoid the noose.
Rowan had been a young boy when the tyrant’s soldiers had ravaged his home, burned his village’s crop and destroyed the water reservoirs. Now, every person in their empire was forced to celebrate the days of their capture or risk their head displayed on a pike.
Rowan felt he had never slept again: his loved ones’ screams still echoed in his dreams and he would wake, convinced he was drowning in their blood again. But he realised the universe didn’t care about him any more than the next person. So he allied himself with a powerful criminal gang who taught him the art and science of assassination and disguise.
His portrait was plastered in every province. Yet none could agree on his looks. Some said he was tall with devilish red eyes and fangs for teeth; others said he was small, to slip through windows. Rowan’s ghostly legends lead to the public calling him Phantom.
He didn’t care what they called him, as long as the price for each job was high enough. Every crime dulled him, leaving only the small satisfaction of completing a job. Even today, as he sped through the rows of ordered houses, his mind was furiously calculating his mission.
A rumour had spread throughout the lands: the Emperor’s two children from his first marriage were cursed. Tales spread that they disembowelled servants, decorated the walls of their rooms with animal corpses, and guzzled blood. Rowan was convinced at least half, if not all, of the reports were false, but it wasn’t his role to care. The despot’s second wife had ordered him to get rid of the princess and prince discreetly, promising him enough gold to last a lifetime. Though he longed to slit her throat, he knew vengeance would have to wait.
However…
As Rowan approached the castle, which glittered in the twilight like shimmering gossamer, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He kept to the shadows as he approached the smallest tower within the block. No sentinels stopped him and no servant bustled about as they prepared for the night. Silence draped like a lead shroud, pressing down on Rowan as he stole toward the thick wooden gates. The hairs on the back of his neck raised and he tensed, gripping the twin knives he always kept strapped to his side.
The gates were unlocked.
He shouldered them open. Too easy. He held his breath as it creaked, but no guards came rushing out to greet him with weapons.
A once luscious carpet, now covered with stains and blood muffled his footsteps as he crossed the hallways in plumes of dust. A layer of grime coated the oil paintings on the wall and a heavy stench of urine permeated the air.
No pictures, he noted. No fine clothing, no animal corpses, no toys scattered about. This was not a palace fit for royalty. No, this was more like a prison.
He reached the last door. By the entrance was a tarnished tray with a few slices of stale bread covered with a colony of mould.
Rowan rested his hand on the cool metal handle; unease pooled in the pit of his stomach. He took a deep breath, pushing the door open and—
A teddy bear flew across the room. It smacked him in the face and landed on the ground with a soft thump.
“Don’t come any closer!” A shrill voice screeched. “I— I’ll hurt you if you do!”
Rowan blinked, dropping his gaze down to the source: a little girl, no older than seven, was huddled in the corner of the room. Her tangled, dirty blonde hair was a jagged mess. She glared at him with sharp, golden eyes, arms raised with a stuffed doll in one hand and a lion locked and loaded in the other.
A memory rose to the surface of his mind, like methane rising from a stagnant pond. His own brother and sister standing in front of him while the soldiers broke into their homes. Their wide and frantic eyes as they held back the guards, armed with nothing more than a broken broom. The panic as they screamed at him to run and never look back.
He forced himself back into reality.
“Princess Cassandra?” Rowan tilted his head, taking in her soiled nightgown and fierce glower. He squinted at the boy shielded behind her. “Prince Edward?”
Rowan couldn’t imagine this boy committing murder any more than he could imagine unicorns existed.
Cassandra snarled, “I’ve heard he’s the bad man who’s going to try and kill us. Now, stay behind me, Ed. D— don’t approach him.”
Suddenly, the missing pieces of the puzzle shifted and clicked into place. Rowan closed his eyes and groaned. The Empress had fooled him: she wanted him to get rid of the young royal children to make way for her own son to take the throne. Judging by the tremble in the princess’s shoulders and the dire state of the palace, this was not the extent of the Empress’s cruelty.
If there was one thing Rowan hated, it was being taken advantage of.
“Well.” He sighed and took a step forward. The children scrambled back and he paused, raising his hands in surrender. “That was part of the plan. But I don’t feel much like doing it now.”
Cassandra lifted her chin, her hands curled into tight fists by her side until her nails dug bloodied crescents into the calloused flesh. “You’re going to let us go?”
“Unfortunately, I can’t do that. The Empress would not stop until she tracked me down.”
A slow grin stretched across his face. They were young, but seemed to have sharp instincts and a hunger for survival. Weapons forged by grief and rage were the most powerful in the world.
“Tell you what, why don’t you both come with me?”
Edward pulled his sister back. His words were shaky and uncertain, but maintained a hopeful undertone, “Why would you offer us that?”
Rowan shrugged. “I’ve always wanted kids, and you two seem pretty intelligent.” He pulled out the knives from his pocket, not missing how the children flinched. He flipped them around, offering them the hilt. “So, what do you say?”
The prince and princess looked at each other, then silently accepted the handles.
Original 1403 words
Revised 1123 words
Original
Bunting was strung across the rooftops like a criminal hanging from the gallows. It fluttered in the weak wind and the rustling of paper, bleached with age, echoed in the silent night. Every house had some semblance of haphazardly thrown together decoration, coupled with patriotic signs and the country’s symbol— a rather pretentious golden eagle soaring into a shimmering sunset— was painted on each door and window with a shaky hand.
Revised
Bunting was strung across the rooftops like a criminal hanging from the gallows. It fluttered in the weak wind, bleached with age. Every house had some semblance of haphazardly thrown together decoration, coupled with patriotic signs and the country’s symbol— a rather pretentious golden eagle soaring into a shimmering sunset—painted on each door and window with a shaky hand.
Original
However, not a single person in the town displayed them for a celebration— they did it to avoid the noose.
Rowan had been a young boy when the tyrant’s soldiers had ravaged his home. They burned his village’s crop and destroyed the water reservoirs so the malnourished and weakened population were ripe for slaughter. To further add to the humiliation and pain, every person in their empire was forced to celebrate the days of their capture. Any that failed to do so before the checks would be viciously murdered and their head displayed on a pike to serve as a warning to other dissidents.
Rowan never had a restful sleep after he escaped the genocide; his loved ones’ screams still echoed in his ears and he would wake up, convinced he was drowning in their blood again, but it was only sweat. He would lament, day and night, for many years as to how the universe could be so cruel to him.
Revised
None believed in this celebration— they did it to avoid the noose.
Rowan had been a young boy when the tyrant’s soldiers had ravaged his home, burned his village’s crop and destroyed the water reservoirs. Now, every person in their empire was forced to celebrate the days of their capture or risk their head displayed on a pike.
Rowan felt he had never slept again: his loved ones’ screams still echoed in his dreams and he would wake, convinced he was drowning in their blood again.
Original
Then, Rowan grew up and realised the universe didn’t care about him any more than the next person. So he allied himself with a powerful criminal gang who taught him how to fight, eventually rising through the ranks and taking the place of the country’s number one assassin.
Over the years, his hands became more stained with blood that would never be washed away and his portrait was plastered on wanted posters in every province. However, no one could quite agree on how he looked like. Some said he was tall with devilish red eyes and fangs for teeth, others said he was small in stature in order to slip through the windows. Rowan’s ghostly legends spiralled out of control, leading to the public calling him Phantom.
He didn’t care what they called him, as long as the price for each job was high enough. Every crime he’d committed had worn away at his moral compass until he felt nothing more than a dulled sense of satisfaction after completing a job.
Even today, as he sped through the rows of ordered houses, his mind was furiously conjuring a plan to complete his newest mission.
Revised
But he realised the universe didn’t care about him any more than the next person. So he allied himself with a powerful criminal gang who taught him the art and science of assassination and disguise.
His portrait was plastered in every province. Yet none could agree on his looks. Some said he was tall with devilish red eyes and fangs for teeth; others said he was small, to slip through windows. Rowan’s ghostly legends lead to the public calling him Phantom.
He didn’t care what they called him, as long as the price for each job was high enough. Every crime dulled him, leaving only the small satisfaction of completing a job. Even today, as he sped through the rows of ordered houses, his mind was furiously calculating his mission.
Original
A rumour had spread throughout the lands: the Emperor’s two children from his first marriage were cursed. Tales of how they disembowelled servants, decorated the walls of their rooms with the corpses of animals, and even guzzled on raw meat which could never sate their never-ending hunger for blood. Rowan was convinced at least half, if not all, of the reports were false, but it wasn’t his role to care. The despot’s second wife had contacted him and ordered him to get rid of the princess and prince discreetly, promising him enough gold and riches to last a lifetime. Though he longed to slit her throat, he knew vengeance would have to wait for another day as he accepted the contract.
However…
Revised
A rumour had spread throughout the lands: the Emperor’s two children from his first marriage were cursed. Tales spread that they disembowelled servants, decorated the walls of their rooms with animal corpses, and guzzled blood. Rowan was convinced at least half, if not all, of the reports were false, but it wasn’t his role to care. The despot’s second wife had ordered him to get rid of the princess and prince discreetly, promising him enough gold to last a lifetime. Though he longed to slit her throat, he knew vengeance would have to wait.
However…
Original
As Rowan approached the castle, which glittered in the twilight like shimmering gossamer, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He kept to the shadows that were thrown against the grassy ground as he approached the smallest tower within the block. No sentinels stopped him and no servant bustled about as they prepared for the night. A heavy silence was draped over the atmosphere like a lead shroud, pressing down on Rowan as he stole toward the thick wooden gates. The hairs on the back of his neck raised and he tensed, gripping the twin knives he always kept strapped to his side.
The gates were unlocked.
Revised
As Rowan approached the castle, which glittered in the twilight like shimmering gossamer, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He kept to the shadows as he approached the smallest tower within the block. No sentinels stopped him and no servant bustled about as they prepared for the night. Silence draped like a lead shroud, pressing down on Rowan as he stole toward the thick wooden gates. The hairs on the back of his neck raised and he tensed, gripping the twin knives he always kept strapped to his side.
The gates were unlocked.
Original
“This is too easy,” he muttered, shouldering it open. He held his breath as it creaked open, but no guard came rushing out to greet him with weapons.
The luscious red carpet covered with soup stains and blood muffled his footsteps as he crossed the hallways, plumes of dust erupted with his every step. A layer of grime coated the oil paintings on the wall and a heavy stench of urine permeated the air.
No pictures. He noted with a small frown, heart hammering against his ribcage. No fine clothing, no animal corpses, no toys scattered about. This is not a palace fit for royalty. No, this is more like a prison.
Revised
He shouldered them open. Too easy. He held his breath as it creaked, but no guards came rushing out to greet him with weapons.
A once luscious carpet, now covered with stains and blood muffled his footsteps as he crossed the hallways in plumes of dust. A layer of grime coated the oil paintings on the wall and a heavy stench of urine permeated the air.
No pictures, he noted. No fine clothing, no animal corpses, no toys scattered about. This was not a palace fit for royalty. No, this was more like a prison.
Original
Finally, he reached the last door. A thin stream of light flickered through the crack at the bottom of the door. By the entrance was a tarnished, grey tray with a few slices of stale bread covered with a colony of mould and a half-full glass of grimy water.
Rowan placed one of the knives in his pocket and rested his hand on the cool metal handle; unease pooled in the pit of his stomach. He took a deep breath, pushing the door open and—
A teddy bear flew across the room. It smacked him in the face and landed on the ground with a soft thump.
“Don’t come any closer!” A shrill voice screeched. “I— I’ll hurt you if you do!”
Rowan blinked, dropping his gaze down to the source: a little girl, no older than seven, was huddled in the corner of the room. Her tangled, dirty blonde hair was jagged and stopped just past her shoulders. She glared at him with sharp, golden eyes, arms raised with a stuffed doll in one hand and lion locked and loaded in the other.
Revised
He reached the last door. By the entrance was a tarnished tray with a few slices of stale bread covered with a colony of mould.
Rowan rested his hand on the cool metal handle; unease pooled in the pit of his stomach. He took a deep breath, pushing the door open and—
A teddy bear flew across the room. It smacked him in the face and landed on the ground with a soft thump.
“Don’t come any closer!” A shrill voice screeched. “I— I’ll hurt you if you do!”
Rowan blinked, dropping his gaze down to the source: a little girl, no older than seven, was huddled in the corner of the room. Her tangled, dirty blonde hair was a jagged mess. She glared at him with sharp, golden eyes, arms raised with a stuffed doll in one hand and a lion locked and loaded in the other.
Original
A memory rose to the surface of his mind, like methane rising from a stagnant pond. His own brother and sister standing in front of him while the soldiers broke into their homes. Their wide and frantic eyes as they held back the guards, armed with nothing more than a broken broom. The panic in their voices as they screamed at him to run and never look back.
He gasped, forcing himself back into reality.
“Princess Cassandra?” Rowan tilted his head, taking in her soiled nightgown— presumably once white— and fierce glower. He squinted at the boy shielded behind her. “Prince Edward?”
“Cass, who is that man?” Edward whispered, gripping the edge of his clothes. Rowan couldn’t imagine this boy committing murder any more than he could imagine unicorns existed.
Cassandra snarled, “I’ve heard he’s the bad man who’s going to try and kill us. Now, stay behind me, Ed. D— don’t approach him.”
Revised
A memory rose to the surface of his mind, like methane rising from a stagnant pond. His own brother and sister standing in front of him while the soldiers broke into their homes. Their wide and frantic eyes as they held back the guards, armed with nothing more than a broken broom. The panic as they screamed at him to run and never look back.
He forced himself back into reality.
“Princess Cassandra?” Rowan tilted his head, taking in her soiled nightgown and fierce glower. He squinted at the boy shielded behind her. “Prince Edward?”
Rowan couldn’t imagine this boy committing murder any more than he could imagine unicorns existed.
Cassandra snarled, “I’ve heard he’s the bad man who’s going to try and kill us. Now, stay behind me, Ed. D— don’t approach him.”
Original
Suddenly, the missing pieces of the puzzle shifted and clicked into place. Rowan closed his eyes and groaned. The Empress had fooled him: she wanted him to get rid of the young royal children to make way for her own son to take the throne. Judging by the tremble in the princess’ shoulders and the dire state of the palace, this was not the extent of the Empress’ cruelty.
If there was one thing Rowan hated, it was being taken advantage of.
“Well.” He sighed and took a step forward. The children scrambled back and he paused, raising his hands in surrender. “That was part of the plan. But I don’t feel much like doing it now.”
“So, what?” Cassandra tilted her chin upwards, her hands curled into tight fists by her side until her nails dug bloodied crescents into the calloused flesh. “You’re going to let us go?”
Revised
Suddenly, the missing pieces of the puzzle shifted and clicked into place. Rowan closed his eyes and groaned. The Empress had fooled him: she wanted him to get rid of the young royal children to make way for her own son to take the throne. Judging by the tremble in the princess’s shoulders and the dire state of the palace, this was not the extent of the Empress’s cruelty.
If there was one thing Rowan hated, it was being taken advantage of.
“Well.” He sighed and took a step forward. The children scrambled back and he paused, raising his hands in surrender. “That was part of the plan. But I don’t feel much like doing it now.”
Cassandra lifted her chin, her hands curled into tight fists by her side until her nails dug bloodied crescents into the calloused flesh. “You’re going to let us go?”
Original
“Unfortunately, I can’t do that. The Empress would not stop until she tracked me down to punish me.” Scratching his chin, an idea popped into Rowan’s mind and a slow grin stretched across his face. They were young, but seemed to have sharp instincts and a hunger for survival. Weapons forged by grief and rage were the most powerful in the world. “Tell you what, why don’t you both come with me?”
Edward pulled his sister back. His words were shaky and uncertain, but maintained a hopeful undertone, “Why would you offer us that?”
Rowan shrugged. “I’ve always wanted kids, and you two seem pretty intelligent.” He pulled out the knives from his pocket, not missing how the children flinched. He flipped them around, offering them the hilt. “So, what do you say?”
The prince and princess looked at each other, then silently accepted the handles.
Revised
“Unfortunately, I can’t do that. The Empress would not stop until she tracked me down.”
A slow grin stretched across his face. They were young, but seemed to have sharp instincts and a hunger for survival. Weapons forged by grief and rage were the most powerful in the world.
“Tell you what, why don’t you both come with me?”
Edward pulled his sister back. His words were shaky and uncertain, but maintained a hopeful undertone, “Why would you offer us that?”
Rowan shrugged. “I’ve always wanted kids, and you two seem pretty intelligent.” He pulled out the knives from his pocket, not missing how the children flinched. He flipped them around, offering them the hilt. “So, what do you say?”
The prince and princess looked at each other, then silently accepted the handles.
What Next
You’ll learn a lot from this if you try to put into your own words what I did to Show, rather than Tell.
If you try to work out why I cut bits out.
If I just tell you, it won’t sink in.
I should also say that I could have rewritten a lot more - there is still quite a bit of telling - but that would mess with Blue’s story too much.
The whole point of this is for you to see how you could reduce the length of your own work with small tweaks, rather than wholesale changes.
And, in case you did not read the previous post, this would score 40/40 in the exam.
You can find over 20 grade 9 stories here.
Or over 20 examples of stories at all grades written by students in their GCSEs here.
Or you might prefer to describe.
You can find over 20 grade 9 descriptions here.
Hello, Sir! Just saw this post and wanted to thank you very much for your awesome feedback ^-^
Hi. Could you let us know if you have generated text using AI, or run it through AI for 'advice'? I would really like to avoid absorbing AI turns of phrase. Maybe just a note at the bottom of the article. Thanks.