"Learn to Imitate" writing practice
Full score essay leads
Writing Practice 1
I. In "Anse Waist Drum", rhetorical techniques such as comparison, repetition, and metaphor are used to describe the scene when people play waist drums on the Loess Plateau, forming a momentum of overwhelming mountains and seas. Try to choose a clip in the text, imitate the rhetorical technique in it, and describe a scene. About 200 words.
【Writing Guidance】
1. Find out the rhetorical techniques used in the selected fragments and analyze how the authors used them.
2. Think about what kind of scene you want to describe and how you use these rhetorical techniques to get the best results.
(1) (Using the ranking ratio, the exquisite dance skills of 21 deaf dancers were written.) (Using comparison, he praises the shock that "Thousand Hands Kannon" brings to the soul.) ）
21 deaf dancers stand in a row and play freely on the stage, creating perfection in the mutilation and stirring life in the silence. (Highlight the deaf-mute dancers who use mutilated dances to make extraordinary moves, and highly praise their disabilities and perseverance.) ）
Their tender arms are like a thousand gentle willow branches, bringing a spring breeze to the world. Their sweet smiles are like the winter sunshine, bringing warmth to people.
Writing Practice 2
Second, in all kinds of depictions, psychological depiction is a more difficult one, because its depiction of the object "without a trace". Lu Xun wrote about "I" in the process of watching the social drama, Morton Hunter wrote about "I" when he climbed off the cliff, and Dude wrote about the psychology of "I" in class, the methods are different, but they are all real and perceptible. Choose one of them to imitate and write a fragment of a psychological description. About 200 words.
1. Re-read the relevant paragraphs of "Social Drama", "Take a Step, Take another Step", and "The Last Lesson", and summarize the methods of psychological description, such as the comprehensive use of direct description and indirect description, etc., as a guide for their own imitation.
2. Choose your own familiar writing materials, preferably a psychological process that you have personally experienced.
(Set the suspense with an inner monologue.) I dragged my heavy steps to my mother. (2) ("Dragging a heavy step" is described in action, showing the psychology of "I" being afraid.) Mom watched me for half a minute. (Wrote "I" regret, chagrin.) I waited quietly for my mother's "verdict," but she was surprisingly calm, put down the test paper, and then slowly took the pen from the writing desk and signed it neatly. Then I didn't say anything and went to cook. Everything was so calm, as if nothing had happened. (Writes about "my" inner uneasiness.) ）
Comments: This is a psychological description of a student after returning home with a test paper with bad grades. The author uses the inner monologue to present his own nervousness, fear, and regret in detail and vividly. The psychological description is specific and delicate, and the image can be felt.
Writing Practice 3
Third, among the many essays that express family affection, "Back Shadow" and "Autumn Nostalgia" are very exemplary works, telling ordinary events in plain language and conveying sincere emotions. Imitate the way these two texts are written, write an essay with a self-written title. Not less than 600 words.
1.Re-read these two texts and draw on their specific writing. For example, choose a certain image to condense emotions, promote the plot, and string through the whole text; pay attention to expressing their attitudes towards the characters they write, changes in emotions, etc.
2. Pay attention to observation, mobilize memory, select memorable and truly emotional events, and present wonderful details.
3. Arrange the clues and structure of the article, and pay attention to the comprehensive use of a variety of expressions to make the article more expressive.
Let me shield you from the wind and snow
(Environmental description, laying the background for the characters to appear, and closely following the "wind and snow" in the title of the text.) ）
After dinner, my father walked into the room, bent down to visit under the bed, reached out and pulled out a cardboard box, and then grabbed the bottom of the cardboard box, slammed together, and tried to carry the cardboard box to his shoulder, but he did not expect the cardboard box to fall to the ground with a "bang". The cardboard box cracked open and the bright red apple was exposed.
"Dad, what are you doing?" "Oh, nothing, take the box apples. Finished eating, right? Let's go, let's see where your aunt goes. "I hurriedly put down the dishes and chopsticks and lifted the box of apples." Dad, let's go. The father laughed, (through the description of the appearance of the father in detail.) ）
"Alas, Dad is old, really old!" Suddenly, I felt my nose sour and my eyes seemed to be veiled, blurred.
(Transition, leading to the following memories.) ）
(Recalling the bits and pieces of getting along with my father, on the road to growing up, my father gave "me" countless encouragement, showing "I" and my father's father-son affection, and "I"'s gratitude to my father.) ）
Suddenly, a cold wind blew through and I came back to my senses. The snow was still lying unhurriedly, as if there were endless words and endless love for Mother Earth. I looked up to see that a thin layer of snow had accumulated in my father's hair, and I hurriedly put down the cardboard box, took off my hat, and fastened it to my father
Kiss on the head. (Verbal depictions that show the mutual love between father and son.) ）
From this laughter, I heard my father's satisfaction, my father's relief. Isn't it? My father's hard work bought me to grow and mature.
The dim light and shadow of the street lamp reflected my father's slightly hunched back, and I was deeply touched. As a child, I was never afraid of the wind and snow, because my father was tall and I could hide behind him. (6) (Spotting. The contrast between the present and the past shows "my" gratitude to my father. ）
Walking, walking, just walking like this, that sour feeling is gone.
(The finishing touches, the center, and the sublimation of the main theme of the article.) ）
Full marks essay
Assignment 1: Home
In my heart, home is like a cup of thick lemon juice, sweet and sour, sometimes accompanied by a hint of bitterness...
Nagging is also warm
"Get up, it's going to be late!" "Be careful on the road! Did you take your bag? "Eat more, can you grow up by eating so little?" "Do your homework first, and then go practice for a while!" "Why don't you sleep yet?" I'm going to be in bed again tomorrow! ”......
From morning to night, my ears were filled with my mother's nagging voice. Surrounded by these voices every day, I was really a little helpless, but my mother's fate was difficult to violate, so I had to obediently do it. In this way, in the nagging sound of my mother, I got up early every day, ate well, did my homework seriously, and took time to practice the piano... Gradually, the teacher began to praise me in the class. I was amazed to find that I could have done so well.
Could it be that the results were achieved because there was such a nagging mother? The original incomprehensible turned into gratitude, and my heart was sweet. Oh, Mom's nagging, that's the beautiful music that accompanied me growing up.
Freeze-frame moments
Speaking of Dad, he was always serious and didn't like to talk. But in front of me, he can always bring out a bunch of philosophies of life, as if he is tempering my will at any time and anywhere. I doubted whether my father loved me until the day he took me on a trip on May Day this year: he dragged my luggage with one hand and dragged me through the crowd with the other; his figure squeezed into the crowd and tried to lean against the counter selling cold drinks; he leaned on his side, holding a cup of my favorite milk tea in his hand... Everything around him froze, and he held aloft the figure of the cup of milk tea, frozen in that moment, which became my eternal memory.
It turned out that under Dad's cold face was a deep love. The original fear turned into a feeling, and my heart was full of warmth. Oh, Daddy's figure, that's the mighty mountain that gives me strength.
Happy little angel
The homework I do, if I'm not careful, will be torn off by him; the cake I like to eat, he will gobble up and grab with me; I am watching the TV series, he is crying and shouting to change the cartoon. As soon as I mentioned my brother, my heart was sour.
However, my mind was full of good memories of me and my brother. Now that I'm in junior high school, I always think of my brother's cute look. Every time I came home, far away, I would see a small figure looking at the door. "Sister is back!" Sister is back! "Before I knew it, the little man had already flown out of his hiding place, bouncing and laughing like a petal. That warm picture is like a beautiful silhouette.
Oh, the cute brother is simply my happy angel. The dissatisfaction of the past flew without a trace, and there was only endless joy in the heart. Oh, my brother's smile, that happy memory will always remain in my heart.
I understood: home, not just a taste, it is like a multi-flavored bean. But sweet and sour, bitter and spicy, in my heart.
Assignment 2: A Warm Neighbor
Warm neighbors
Although "sunset" is "infinitely good", how can it be compared to neighbors who are as close as relatives?
Now people don't come out, don't step forward, and stay in the room with the air conditioner on is a whole day. Probably many people don't have a single social event a summer vacation. In the countryside, it will be very different.
Every time I go back to my grandmother's house, I will be infected by the strong lively atmosphere. There is no lifeless sight here, and the doors of every household here are open, and neighbors can come and go freely. Too lazy to cook, just rub a meal at any house. Can't sleep in the middle of the night and find someone to nag, compared with the lights on the street, isn't it beautiful?
My favorite thing is to return to my grandmother's house in the autumn, when the weather is not as hot as summer, not as cold as winter, and when you pick them, you can taste sweet persimmons, lie in the wheat pile, sit on the stone pier, look at the people working in the fields, and cry out that you can eat a bowl of fragrant noodles when you are hungry.
In the yard of every family, three or four fruit trees will be planted, so that the adults are not at home, and they can have food to fill their stomachs. At Aunt Zhang's house, Aunt Li's house even had a table filled with candy and biscuits, and it was common to see whether there were adults or not in the family. One by one, their mouths are full, and when they finish eating, they will be cheeky, and these two people who are sought after by the children to become gods will of course not hesitate to give the family's grain to these children whose "skin is thicker than the city wall".
People living in the countryside have a surprisingly loud voice, a louder laugh, and the enthusiasm is real, but they always scare away the dolls that have never seen the world when they come back from the city to visit their relatives.
Although rural life is not as prosperous as urban life, it has a stronger human touch, and those who always have a warm heart make this ordinary village fascinating, so that people who have lived in the metropolis for a long time have a place to slow down.
Comments: In the countryside, you can visit the door at will, rub rice, eat free sweets and cookies, and the people in the village are always so hospitable. The language of the article is concise, the sentences are smooth, and the words and lines can make the reader fully feel the strong human touch of the countryside.
Assignment 3: Love in Food
Love in gastronomy
In the past, my mother could not cook, and the tired and tested skills of cooking in the kitchen were all handled by my father. But from the day I fell to the ground, everything was different.
When he was five years old. One day, I was clamoring for sticky rice. hey! Unfortunately, Dad went to the countryside to help the poor, and he couldn't come back for three or two days. My mother, who was helplessly entangled by me, sighed and had to tie up her apron and take "Gourmet Compendium" into the kitchen. "Where is the glutinous rice?" Where are the green onions? Where is the steamer? These problems are simply the "problem of the century" for mothers who don't often enter the kitchen. After a long wait of more than an hour, the sticky rice finally came out of the pan. While eating fragrant rice, I noticed the blisters on my mother's arm afterwards.
The year I was seven years old. I looked at the fish brought by my uncle and couldn't help but be hungry, and found various reasons for my mother to make fish for me to eat. Under my soft and hard bubbles, Mom compromised. Once again, I saw my mother wearing an apron and going into the kitchen with the Food Book. After a long wait, the fragrant fish was served, and I devoured it. My mother told me to eat slowly, be careful with the thorns, I ignored it, and ate it, but I didn't notice whether my mother drank the fish soup.
The year he was eleven. I became obsessed with seafood and begged my mother to make pretzel shrimp. I saw my mother go into the kitchen with an apron again, but this time I didn't bring "Food Encyclopedia", I didn't have it in the dish book I wanted to eat, and my mother replaced it with her mobile phone Baidu. When my mother brought the dish to the table, I did not enjoy it alone as before, but first grabbed a piece of prawn and fed it into my mother's mouth...
What prompted moms to go from being a "noblewoman" who couldn't cook at all to a real "housewife"? This beautiful passage may explain: "I chose my mother in heaven, and when I saw the perfect you, I wanted to be your child, and the next day I ended up in your belly." ”
In this cold winter when the new crown virus is raging, my mother wears a mask and shuttles through the community every day to serve the people, and my father also has to stick to the front line of support. At home, in addition to completing my homework, I also began to learn to cook: boiling dumplings, laying noodles, wrapping tangyuan, making dumplings, and being very busy.
When I brought simple meals to the table, my parents, who had been running around for a day, always smiled and said that they were going to enjoy the food made by their daughters. It turns out that there is love as the material, and the food is easy to adjust.
Assignment 4: Love in Time
The winter sun shines warmly on the body, and thoughts flutter in the wind. Pushing open the scarlet door of memory, the old house is slowly revealed full of childhood songs and laughter.
The gears of memory turned back.
The sleep of the alley ended in the chirping of the birds, I stepped on the wooden ladder straight up, there were many white birds parked on the old locust tree, and the flower cat on the door jumped on the low roof, and the softness of the sun made it stretch out, trying its best to stretch its tired body.
The vegetable garden behind the house welcomes early risers. A pair of hands with calluses weave through the purple eggplant, and the green peppers also come out from time to time to join in the fun. In the ear is the topic of grandma whispering what to eat for breakfast, and what her eyes refuse to leave is the colorful vegetable garden, full of summer vitality.
Grandma slowly pushed open the door of the old house, and before the sound of "creaking" sounded, I slid down the wooden ladder, refusing to step up the last few steps to jump down, and saw that Grandma's face was heavy. Without waiting for her to reprimand, I rushed to her in three steps and made two steps, pulled the corner of her clothes and said, "Never dare again." She was always soft-hearted, pretending to be angry and scolding her face: "Pay attention next time." The words did not fall, the spoiled smile had already crept up her cheeks, and the wrinkles in the corners of her eyes also blossomed. I giggled and threw myself into her arms as I laughed, letting the dewy eggplant wet the ends of my hair.
The old house was also infected by the laughter of the courtyard, the vermilion gate was more vivid, and the cold walls were bathed in sunlight and smiled like flowers.
The summer heat is slightly lighter in the afternoon. The sound of cicadas is noisy and incessant, making people feel a nameless fire burning in their hearts, but Grandma has a magic power that makes people calm down. Although it was only summer, she prepared her insoles for autumn and winter early. Grandma's hand was very clever, a thin thread through her, fingers pinched the needle flying up and down, lying on her kneeS I could only see the back and forth of the thread in front of my eyes, not pay much attention, the general outline of a flower was completed in that gentle laughter. When she reached the place where the stitches were sewn, she was not afraid, and the song suddenly sounded in the fine stitches. I can no longer remember the words in her mouth, and all that remains in my ears is the tone that is gentle, sometimes agitated, sometimes high-pitched.
I was a little faceless, and whenever my grandmother sang, I was able to fall asleep soon. Waking up and placing it at the head of the bed was the insole that had been packed. The butterflies on the insoles flapped their wings, as if they wanted to break through the shackles and come to me to sing. As I was watching it, Grandma's voice rang out again: "Little naughty ghost, haven't you woken up yet?" I pretended to be still asleep, trying to inhale and suppress my rapid breathing. Within a few seconds, a string of silver bell-like laughter was emitted in Grandma's footsteps.
Unconsciously, the sun moved its pace westward, and the gears of time stopped turning.
But I thought again of the old house, of the flower cat, of my dear grandmother. The wooden door of the old house was no longer vermilion, and the wind and rain had worn away its proud color. The flower cat opposite the door could no longer climb the roof, and old age hindered its once vigorous steps. Grandma's eyes could no longer support her needle leads, and wrinkles had crawled all over her cheeks.
I hope to go back to the old house again, push open the wooden door that is lightly hidden, and standing behind the door is still a smiling grandmother.
The love of time will never fade.
Assignment 5: My father helped me grow
My father helped me grow
The road to growth is long and tortuous, full of thorns and bumps, but there has always been you along the way- Dad, growing up with me!
One, two, three...
Dad, when did your gray hair grow again? Is it because of me that bothers you and worries you? For my healthy growth, you are constantly encouraging me, educating me, and helping me grow.
The first root.
When I was in the second grade, our school was re-divided, and my former good friends were all separated, leaving me alone with a group of unfamiliar classmates. Every time I got out of class, I saw how well the other students got along, playing eagles and catching chickens together, rocking scissors together, and I could only watch from the side.
One day, Dad happened to be passing by school, saw me alone, rushed over to me, asked me what was wrong, and I told him about my troubles. He smiled and said, "It's all right, Daddy is coming." After saying that, he took me to the playground with his big rough hands, and like an old playboy, he said to my classmates, "I'm an eagle, come and catch you!" The classmates burst out laughing and pulled me together into a flock of chicks, and in the midst of this laughter, I became good friends with them. Later, I found that dad was sweating like rain, and among the wet black hair, there was a white hair that stood out.
Second root.
When I was ten years old, as my homework increased, so did my interactions with my dad. Once the school organized a sports meeting, I was pushed up again, but this time it was 800 meters! My heart was filled with fear...
On the day of the race, a confident runner stood with me on the running line, the gunshot sounded, we pulled our legs and ran, but because the 800 meters were too long, I was particularly nervous, my legs were weak, "pounced" a sound, I fell a big heel, Dad saw it, and immediately ran over to cheer me on, "You can, be strong, victory is ahead!" I heard the familiar father's voice again, countless pains dissolved in the sound of dad's cheers, along with dad's voice, I bravely rushed to the first, dad immediately lifted me up and sat on his shoulder, I looked at the top of his head as if there was another white hair.
Third root.
Now there are many courses, homework is rare to make me want to give up, but my father is always around me to tutor me, encourage me, patiently explain the problem to me, my father's encouragement accompanies me to continue to improve, but the father who is more and more worried about me seems to have another white hair under the night light. Four, five, six... How there are so many more, I know, Dad, you have paid too much for me.
On the road to growth, your company helps me grow!