Transcription

I have always loved writing as much as reading but as I grew older, less time could be dedicated toward this passion of mine. Although reading time could be somehow acquired through short breaks or mandatory texts assigned by teachers(I realized that reading of one's own volition was crucial to consider the book entertaining..), writing required time and deep thinking sessions that could not be achieved in the lifestyle I had found myself wound up in.

However, I still seeked to improve my prose and strived to find a way in which I could somehow fit short excercises into my schedule.

One of the excercises I came upon was called transcription. It was basically jotting down another author's writing and getting a hang of their voice within their words, evaluating their word choice and how it plays a role in creating the atmosphere within the text.

Some transcriptions:

The room seemed at once mundane and hearbreakingly beautiful: the morning light streaming through stained-glass windows, casting colourful patterns on the polished wooden desks; the clean scratch of chalk against the blackboard; and the sweetm woody smell of old books. A dream; this was an impossible dream, this fragile, lovely world in which, for the price of his convictions, he had been allowed to remain.

<Babel>

The furniture was expensive, stylish, and uncomfortable, the decor done in blinding white and dull slate gray. In the living room the Architectural Digest aesthetic was blighted by ebidence of occupation: a dog eared copy of the Bonfire of Vanities, half-drunk bottles of wine, an armani overcoat tossed carelessly over one arm of the couch. The only indication that a holiday had come and gone was a meorah with four half-melted candles sitting crookedly in the window.

<If we were villains>

The flowers were unnecessary, for two o'clock a greenhouse arrived from Gatsby's, with innumberable receptacles to contain it. An hour later the front door opened nervously, and Gatsby, in a white flannel suit, silver shirt, and gold colored tie, hurried in. He was pale, and there were dark signs of sleeplessness beneath his eyes.

<The Great Gatsby>