Let’s discuss what is creative writing before looking at some great creative writing examples!
Creative writing refers to the art of narrative craft that is imaginative, innovative, expressive, original and is mostly intended to entertain or share human experiences.
Creative writing or the art of making things up, as it is called, gives a write a lot of freedom when writing a piece of work (novels, poetries, scripts, songs, speeches, memoirs, diaries etc) unlike any journalistic form of writing. The latter includes stats and facts and is more informative in its style of expression unlike the former which uses various elements of creative writing to appeal to the emotions of the readers. These elements include character development, building the plot, working on the theme, engaging dialogues, using various literary devices and figures of speech in a descriptive language along with the subjective viewpoint of the writer.
Creative writing can be classified into novels, poetries, short stories and novellas, flash fiction, scripts, plays, song writing, memoirs and so on. We would discuss each of them briefly and then cite examples from each of these types to help you understand the creative writing process.
We are all familiar with the forms of novel writing. This is the most well known form of creative writing by people.
Good novel writing comes from a mixture of the calculated and the instinctual. Do not mistake the latter for something mystical. The instinctual in writing is nothing but the art of writing itself that you have practiced so thoroughly in your conscious state, that your pen has started pouring ideas effortlessly. (Through conscious efforts, you imbue the skills of writing in your subconscious).
Creative writing examples from a novel:
I am really fond of the Randian style of writing.
Say whatever you want about the Ayn Rand philosophies, the fact that she is one of the most phenomenal writers of the twentieth century can’t be controverted.
This is an excerpt from her novel, Fountainhead.
HOWARD ROARK LAUGHED. He stood naked at the edge of a cliff. The lake lay far below him. A frozen explosion of granite burst in flight to the sky over motionless water. The water seemed immovable, the stone flowing. The stone had the stillness of one brief moment in battle when thrust meets thrust and the currents are held in a pause more dynamic than motion. The stone glowed, wet with sunrays. The lake below was only a thin steel ring that cut the rocks in half. The rocks went on into the depth, unchanged. They began and ended in the sky. So that the world seemed suspended in space, an island floating on nothing, anchored to the feet of the man on the cliff. His body leaned back against the sky. It was a body of long straight lines and angles, each curve broken into planes. He stood, rigid, his hands hanging at his sides, palms out. He felt his shoulder blades drawn tight together, the curve of his neck, and the weight of the blood in his hands. He felt the wind behind him, in the hollow of his spine. The wind ed his hair against the sky. His hair was neither blond nor red, but the exact color of ripe orange rind. He laughed at the thing which had happened to him that morning and at the things which now lay ahead. He knew that the days ahead would be difficult. There were questions to be faced and a plan of action to be prepared. He knew that he should think about it. He knew also that he would not think, because everything was clear to him already, because the plan had been set long ago, and because he wanted to laugh. He tried to consider it. But he forgot. He was looking at the granite. He did not laugh as his eyes stopped in awareness of the earth around him. His face was like a law of nature—a thing one could not question, alter or implore. It had high cheekbones over gaunt, hollow cheeks; gray eyes, cold and steady; a contemptuous mouth, shut tight, the mouth of an executioner or a saint. He looked at the granite. To be cut, he thought, and made into walls. He looked at a tree. To be split and made into rafters. He looked at a streak of rust on the stone and thought of iron ore under the ground. To be melted and to emerge as girders against the sky. These rocks, he thought, are here for me; waiting for the drill, the dynamite and my voice; waiting to be split, ripped, pounded, reborn; waiting for the shape my hands will give them. Then he shook his head, because he remembered that morning and that there were many things to be done. He stepped to the edge, raised his arms, and dived down into the sky below. He cut straight across the lake to the shore ahead.
For the writers who like reading plain bollywood stuff, Vikram Chandra should not be missed.
Read this from his novel Sacred Games.
You know that the Sacred Games Netflix series is adapted from his novel, don’t you?
I took the land between N.C. road and the hill which overlooks it. You know Gopalmath basti, from N.C. Road all the way up the hill and four miles wide, from Sindh chowk to G.T. Junction? All that was empty land then, nothing but a wasteland of weeds and bushes-it was municipal wasteland. The government owned it, I took it. You know how it's done Sartaj. It's easy. You pay off three chutiyas in the municipality, oil them up properly and then you kill the local dada who thinks he deserves a percentage of your actions, like it's his bhenchod birthright. That's it. Then the land is yours. I took it, and it was mine.
Flash-fiction and Short Stories:
I have already dedicated a full article on the art of writing short stories and flash fiction! I have cited more than 10 examples of flash fiction and short stories there!
You can check out Creative writing examples of flash fiction and short stories HERE!
Writing poems is the most creative way to express oneself. Trying to understand the niceties of literary devices and it’s use can addle your brain, do not be daunted by them.
Remember, creative writing is an art and there are no rules.
Just let it flow.
Creative writing examples from poetries:
This is a beautiful poem my friend Pragnya Paramita wrote on #remembering_nirbhaya,
This city That I used to Call my own And its people With a heart Full of gold Has shown me What it means To be truly alone I fell for its charms This big city With its glittering towers And gritty roads One on which I lay Stripped of dignity My mouth agape Soul shredded to pieces Cruelly, pleasurably The blood soaking Through the soil Sand in my mouth Cuts on my hands Eyes black As black as the Hijab I used to wear The one with sequins Gifted by mother Torn by monsters I tend to forget Tell them it's always me My fault But what about The monsters Above my bed Because the monsters Underneath were always Fictional, figments Of my imagination When light streams in Through the crack In my open door I know, I just know Monsters don't have To have big claws Or horns on their heads They can come With kind faces, Perfect smiles, Like loving uncles Who become so Loving, that it hurts If this is love, Then why does it hurt Why do I have to Wash myself off A hundred, Thousand times Why when my Skirts are thrown out Am I not free Why are the sequins On that hijab Breaking, loosening Falling to the ground Scattered, rolling around Just like My soul Parts of which Have been trampled on On the very roads Of this city In my bedroom In my office Parts of which Still intact Attached to my Mother's love Keep hanging on Loosely by a thread The thread Of hope and yearning.
Thoughts can never find words in any way better than through lyrics of a song.
But, as the legendary Jimmy Webb says, “Songwriting is hell on earth. If it isn’t then you are doing it wrong!!!”
Creative writing examples from songs:
Read the lyrics of Charlie Puth’s “All of me” and see how creatively Puth has used imagery and opposites in every line!
What would I do without your smart mouth
Drawing me in, and you kicking me out
Got my head spinning, no kidding,
I can't pin you down
What's going on in that beautiful mind
I'm on your magical mystery ride
And I'm so dizzy, don't know what hit me,
but I'll be alright!
My head's under water
But I'm breathing fine
You're crazy and I'm out of my mind
'Cause all of me Loves all of you
Love your curves and all your edges
All your perfect imperfections
Give your all to me I'll give my all to you....
Nobody subverts the materialism of pop culture through songs better than Lorde.
Read a few lines from her hit song, “red yellow orange flicker beat” and appreciate the way she has used metaphors with colors.
I'm a princess cut from marble, smoother than a storm And the scars that mark my body, they're silver and gold My blood is a flood of rubies, precious stones It keeps my veins hot, the fires find a home in me I move through town, I'm quiet like a fire And my necklace is of opal, I tie it and untie it And our people talk to me, but nothing ever hits So people talk to me, and all the voices just burn holes I'm going in (ooh)This is the start of how it all ever ends They used to shout my name, now they whisper it I'm speeding up and this is the Red, orange, yellow flicker beat sparking up my heart We rip the start, the colors disappear I never watch the stars there's so much down here So I just try to keep up with them Red, orange, yellow flicker beat sparking up my heart...
Also called screenwriting, writing scripts for mass media is another form of creative writing.
Creative writing examples from screeplays:
Mario Puzo rewrote his famous novel for Francis Ford Coppola’s movie Godfather and the film went to win the Academy award for the Best Writing adapted screenplay.
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