I am filing the Common Application and will be submitting this under "Topic of your choice". Please critique if possible.
When I write this world is gone. I am past our solar system, through and through space on my own planet where only my creations and I can survive.
The planets' sky is words. Endless sentences wrap the sky as if you were inside a snow globe with everything ever written scribbled on the glass. There is no sun for my planet, the words are like stars they light themselves and so light my planet. The shadows on the ground are my own words. The breeze tickling my cheek is like brail, I can feel the words that it wants to say. I need no pen nor paper in my world. I need nothing but my imagination.
My planet holds other universes, worlds, cities, places, and people all of which I have created. I never have to stop creating. Endless are the words and endless is my world. Immobile, I am not. In a lovely little city where trees are white as snow with leaves the brightest gold, and the shutters on the buildings are pale pastels, to a trek of land, lifeless, that is completely flat red rocks except for one lone silver arrow stuck in the ground shimmering against the burning glare of light from my words. The places are infinitely changeable. There is no point of exhaustion for them. There is not a "No way out" or "One Way" sign. They are endless, with almost a life of their own.
Writing is the way, I believe, that mere human catapult ourselves to being Omni-parent and omniscient. It is an escape and jail at the same time. For, once you taste writing in its truest form you are incapable of "just" writing. You can never truly stop writing for being a writer is endless.
Hey Proberts~Your essay really piqued my interest at the beginning!! you are a great writer and have a strong ability in description, amazing!!
But I just got a bit lost when I followed the essay. It's like you are trying to describe an imaginary world when you are writing, but the problem is that the description is a bit scattered apart. I felt you have three key words here: writing, planet, endless. But I am confused why these three are connected with each other.
Hope it helps!!!
Thanks! It does help a lot, I need other peoples opinions because I write in my own style and usually can't see that it wont make sense to others completely haha :) I wrote "Endless sentences wrap the sky.." and then "Endless are the words and endless is my world." because I thought it flowed and showed the idea that my "imaginary world" has no boundaries or ends just like the continuance sentence in the sky. should I use synonym? and maybe get rid of the extra endless at the very end, apparently its my favorite word :) Thanks again
my "imaginary world" has no boundaries or ends just like the continuance sentence in the sky.
This sentence is critical!! I guess you need to lead the reader to your own planet and still remember you are not talking about a planet, you are talking about how you feel when you write.
And also, how does this topic reflect who you are? I mean, I can see you are a free spirit guy, full of creativity. anything else? Instead of only talking about what you FEEL when you write, I think the admission committee are more interested in what you learned from writing or how this help you become who you are. I remember the main essay have a 500 word limit, so you still got some space to perhaps add one or two paragraphs about these.
Wow! I admire your vocabulary and word choice. Like what lexyilu1209 said your essay is amazing! It's just I get that you are writing about writing but it just seems out there... Sorry I don't know if this will help but I really love what you have going there! Good luck!! You have an hour left!
And if you have time please come read and fix mine :)
Thanks!
Also, "Endless are the words and endless is my world." is a good sentence. But I think it is a bit blurry. "When I write, my world is endless. My imagination was set free as the words flow out and fill the big flashing screen." something like that?
proberts
When I write the solid earth beneath me falls away. I tumble past our solar system, through and through space onto my own planet where only my creations and I can survive.
The planets' sky is words. Endless sentences wrap the sky as if you were inside a snow globe with everything ever written scribbled on the glass. There is no sun for my planet, the words are like stars that light themselves and so light my planet. The shadows on the ground are my own words(your words are the light and the shadows? could be interesting symbolically but the relationship should be explained more . The breeze tickling my cheek is like brail, I can feel the words that it wants to say. I need neither pen nor paper in my world. I need nothing but my imagination.
My planet holds other universes, worlds, cities, places, and people, all of which I have created. To never stop stop creating. Endless are the words and thus, (i feel like there does need to be some break in this sentence because otherwise it feels to tongue twister-y) endless is my world. Immobile, I am not. In a lovely little city where trees are white as snow with leaves the brightest gold, and the shutters on the buildings are pale pastels, (lost me in this sentence) to a trek of land, lifeless, that is completely flat, red rocks litter the ground, isolating and emphasizing the one lone silver arrow stuck in the ground shimmering against the burning glare of light created from my words. The places are infinitely changeable. There is no point of exhaustion for them. There is not a "No way out" or "One Way" sign. They are endless, with almost a life of their own.
Writing is the way we mere humans catapult ourselves to being (have to be capitalized?) Omni-parent and omniscient. It is an escape and a jail at the same time. For, once you taste writing in its truest form you are incapable of writing without creating a world of your own . You can never truly stop writing for being a writer is endless.
I like your style of writing :) it seems much truer to your own personality then mine does. Perhaps middle ground between the two?
Thank you all for your input, I see what you are all saying, and I have re-edited my essay. I wrote more also, on the subject that lexylui1209 approached on what I've learned from writing and how it as affected me. I am sending this in tonight so your opinions would be complete lifesavers.
NEW VERSION:
When I write, this world we call earth is no longer my home. I beam past our solar system, through and through the universe onto my own planet where only my creations and I can survive.
The planets' sky is words. Endless sentences wrap the sky as if you were inside a snow globe with every great writers words scribbled on the glass. There is no sun for my planet, the words above are like stars they light themselves and so light my planet. Yet the shadows on the ground are my own words. The breeze tickling my cheek is like brail, I can feel the words that it wants to say. I need neither pen nor paper in my world. I need nothing but my imagination.
My "planet" has no boundaries or ends, just like the ceaseless sentence in the sky, so it holds other universes, worlds, cities, places, and people all of which I have created. Contrary to real life, time and distance have no control. I can be in a lovely little city where trees are white as snow with leaves the brightest gold, and with streets made of sapphire pebbles, and a moment later I am on flat, lifeless trek of land where red rocks litter the ground, isolating and emphasizing the one lone silver arrow stuck in the ground shimmering against the burning glare of light created by my literary sky. Endless are the words and thus endless is my world. The places are infinitely changeable. There is no point of exhaustion for them. There is not a "No way out" or "One Way" sign. Their possibilities are limitless, ever expanding, and evolving.
I shaped my planet into what its today, and yet my "planet" shaped me into what I am today. Having this place has helped me become a entirely different person than I would have been had I not. Its an outlet for my creativity, annoyance, sadness, and every other feeling that I have. I need never to be ridden with anger, sadness, annoyance, or become overwhelmed for more time than It takes to mentally transport my self there. It is a place where my mind is challenged, and where I can grow inwardly.
I have been told multiple times that I have an old soul, and eyes that have seen their fare share and I believe I can truthfully say it is because I write. My writing has taught me lesson that I would not have learned this early in life if I did not write. I will never be a student in the 18th century, I will never be 17 and on the run after being falsely accused of committing genocide, and I will never be able to do half the things my characters have and yet I have mentally experienced these things. I have had to feel the pain, loss, love, and happiness that my characters went through in order to write it. Writing taught me how to present details, its has made me confident in myself and that has enabled me to speak in public with ease, stand my ground and have faith in my ethics, answers, and beliefs. I also has taught me that the effort you put into the small details of things are what make the big picture that much more spectacular.
I believe, Writing is the way we mere humans catapult ourselves to being Omni-parent and omniscient. It is an escape and jail at the same time. For, once you taste writing in its truest form you are incapable of anything else. You can never truly stop writing for being a writer is like being a human, you just are.
When I write, this world we call earth is no longer my home. I beam past our solar system, through and through the universe onto my own planet where only my creations and I can survive.
The planet' s sky is words. Endless sentences wrap the sky as if you are inside a snow globe with every great writers' words scribbled on the glass. There is no sun for my planet, the words above are like stars, they light themselves and so light my planet. Yet the shadows on the ground are my own words. The breeze tickling my cheek is like brail, I can feel the words that it wants to say. I need neither pen nor paper in my world. I need nothing but my imagination.
My planet has no boundaries or ends, just like the ceaseless sentences in the sky, so it holds other universes, worlds, cities, places, and people all of which I have created. Contrary to real life, time and distance have no control. I can be in a lovely little city where trees are white as snow with leaves the brightest gold, and with streets made of sapphire pebbles, and a moment later I am on flat, lifeless trek of land where red rocks litter the ground, isolating and emphasizing the one lone silver arrow stuck in the ground shimmering against the burning glare of light created by my literary sky. Endless are the words and thus endless is my world. The places are infinitely changeable. There is no point of exhaustion for them. There is not a "No way out" or "One Way" sign. Their possibilities are limitless, ever expanding, and evolving.
I shaped my planet into what its today, and yet my planet shaped me into what I am today. Having this place has helped me become a entirely different person than I would have been had I not.My planet... my teacher, the lessons I have learned walking through this world created me just as much as I created it. (I know this repeats your last sentence but i cant think of another way to avoid the cliche, "it made me who i am" trap. It' s an outlet for my creativity, annoyance, sadness, and every other feeling that I have. I need never to be riddled with anger, sadness, annoyance, or become overwhelmed for more time than It takes to mentally transport myself there. It is a place where my mind is challenged, and where I can grow inwardly.
Try to pepper in bits similar to the last paragraph to connect your entire essay together. The tone it sends right now is very different from the first and it seems a bit disjointed although it is important to include such info.
I have been told multiple times that I have an old soul, and eyes that have seen their fair share and I believe I can truthfully say it is because I write. My writing has taught me lessons that I would not have learned this early in life if I did not write. I will never be a student in the 18th century, I will never be 17 and on the run after being falsely accused of committing genocide, and I will never be able to do half the things my characters have and yet I have mentally experienced these things. I have had to feel the pain, loss, love, and happiness that my characters went through in order to write it. Writing taught me how to present details, its has made me confident in myself and that has enabled me to speak in public with ease, stand my ground and have faith in my ethics, answers, and beliefs. It also has taught me that the effort you put into the small details of things are what make the big picture that much more spectacular.
I believe, Writing is the way we mere humans catapult ourselves to being Omni-parent and omniscient. It is an escape and jail at the same time. For, once you taste writing in its truest form you are incapable of anything else. You can never truly stop writing for being a writer is like being a human, you just are.
Your essays improved a lot! You already had your style, all you needed was some solid content. One important critique though, look through you last paragraph. Notice how many I's you have and try to rewrite those sentences with less of them. It will force you to use different sentence structures and get rid of some redundancy .
