As I was looking for a saved document, I came across a bunch of old assignments from different writing classes during college. While I was reading through them, I thought, why not post some? They aren’t the best, but I look at them as important stepping stones in my writing journey.
So this piece was from my Creative Non-Fiction class, senior year. I believe the purpose of the assignment was to write the same anecdote from three different perspectives. Enjoy!
It is the opening night of my senior Spring Dance Concert and I am about to perform a solo for the first time. I squeeze my fingers around Syndel’s hand, her strong hold keeping me stable as I await my turn. Nervously I begin to shake out my legs, loosening my ankles by letting my taps lightly hit the floor so I don’t make too much noise. I’ve never been one to do a solo, comfortable with blending in with the group. But it was my senior year, really my last chance to ever do this. Across the stage Danielle is standing in the opposite wing directing her pointer finger to the sky: Look up, she wordlessly reminds me. I send her a timid smile in thanks. The music for the dance on stage begins to die down as I sneak a look into the audience. I see my family sitting in the middle of the second row with my tap teacher behind them. Abruptly, I straighten up as the other dancers rush past having just left the stage. I squeeze my best friend’s hand one last time before she grabs me into an embrace, knowing this is only the beginning to the emotional weekend we have ahead of us. The crowd starts shouting my name after my senior picture appears on the projector. This is it. Boom, boom, boom the drum hits, signaling my entrance as I step onto the lit stage.
You squeeze your fingers around Syndel’s hand, not letting go for fear of falling over in anxiety. It is the opening night of your very last Spring Dance Concert, the night you will perform a solo for the very first time. After months of back and forth, you decided to take the leap. You’re finally showing off your talent, letting your teammates and classmates see a different side to the quiet girl. You start to warm up by shaking out your legs and lightly tapping on the ground to loosen your feet before you go on. Seeing Danielle across the stage, you give her a nervous smile reminding you of your biggest struggle: Look up! While the dance onstage begins to finish, you look into the audience and immediately spot your family and mentor, sitting in the second row. You are startled when dancers rush past as they leave the stage. Syndel lets go of your hand before pulling you into a strong hug. You know that this is only the beginning to a very emotional weekend you both have ahead of you. The crowd starts shouting your name after your picture appears on the projector. This is it. Boom, boom, boom the drum hits, signaling your entrance as you take a step onto the lit stage.
Third Person Omniscient
Lindsay squeezes her fingers around Syndel’s hand, refusing to let go just yet. It is the opening night of her very last Spring Dance Concert, the night where she will perform a solo for the very first time. She starts to warm up, shaking out her legs and trying to stay quiet as she lightly hits her taps to the floor to loosen up her ankles. She sees one of her oldest friends across the stage standing in the opposite wing. Danielle starts pointing her finger to the ceiling: Look up! Lindsay responds with a nervous smile. She starts to search the crowd for her family and dance teacher, spotting them in the second row at the ready with tissues in their hands. They look almost as nervous as she feels. They know how important it is for Lindsay to do this, something so far out of her comfort zone. Lindsay abruptly straightens up as the dancers leave the stage. As she gives her best friend’s hand one more squeeze, Syndel throws her arms around her. Both girls grip each other tightly, desperately holding back tears. This is only the beginning to an emotional weekend. Nothing will ever be the same as this weekend, this moment. The crowd starts shouting Lindsay’s name after her picture appears on the projector. She wipes the sweat from her brow and takes a deep breathe. Boom, boom, boom the drum hits, signaling her entrance as she takes a step onto the lit stage.
Let me know if this kind of stuff is stupid. Maybe I’ll listen!