Category: Writing Skills

Techniques and strategies for stronger English writing — from descriptive language and sentence variety to essay structure, grammar, and exam-ready analytical style.

  • A-Level English Language Creative Writing: How to Write a Commentary

    At A-Level English Language, the creative writing component requires two things: a piece of original writing, and a commentary on it. The commentary is not an afterthought — it’s worth significant marks, and it tests a specific skill that is quite different from the skill of writing the piece itself.

    The skill is this: talking about your own language choices analytically, using linguistic frameworks, in a way that demonstrates genuine awareness of what you were doing and why.

    What a Commentary Is — and Isn’t

    A commentary is not a summary of your piece (“In the first paragraph, I wrote about…”). It is not a description of what you were trying to do in vague terms (“I wanted to make it dramatic”). And it is not an apology for what you didn’t manage to achieve.

    A commentary is an analytical reflection on your own linguistic choices — the specific decisions you made about form, genre, register, lexis, grammar, and structure, grounded in the frameworks you’ve been studying, and connected to the purpose and audience of your piece.

    Write the Commentary Alongside the Piece

    The most useful piece of advice: don’t write the piece and then try to write a commentary on it afterwards from memory. Write both together. As you make a significant decision in the writing — choosing a particular register, using a specific sentence structure for effect, drawing on a genre convention — note it immediately. “Used short declarative sentences here to create urgency” in the margin of your draft becomes the core of a commentary point when you come to write it up.

    Writers who write the piece fully and then try to reverse-engineer a commentary are working much harder than they need to — and often produce commentaries that feel strained, because they’re discovering (or inventing) the rationale retrospectively.

    What to Include in Your Commentary

    Purpose and Audience

    Establish clearly what you were trying to achieve and for whom. This context shapes all your other choices and gives the examiner the framework for evaluating them. Be specific: not “I wanted to entertain” but “I was aiming for a piece that would appeal to adult readers familiar with the conventions of Gothic fiction, deliberately subverting genre expectations by…”

    Form and Structure

    Why did you choose this form? How did you structure the piece, and why? If you chose a non-linear structure, what effect does that create? If you used a genre convention, were you following it, subverting it, or playing with it — and why?

    Specific Language Choices

    This is the heart of the commentary. Choose four or five specific language choices — a verb, a sentence structure, a lexical field, a phonological pattern — and analyse them. Why this word rather than another? What connotations does it carry? How does it relate to the piece’s overall tone and purpose?

    Use the linguistic frameworks: lexis, grammar, phonology, graphology, pragmatics, discourse. You don’t need to force all of them in, but you should draw on at least two or three, and you should use the terminology precisely.

    What You Would Change

    Many mark schemes reward a brief honest reflection on what you might do differently — what you were attempting but feel you didn’t quite achieve, or what you’d explore if you had more words. This demonstrates critical distance from your own work, which is a sophisticated intellectual move. Don’t dwell on failure, but don’t be afraid of honest self-evaluation either.

    Tone and Length

    The commentary should read like analytical writing — precise, evidence-based, and confident, but not academic in the heavy sense. You’re reflecting on your creative decisions, not writing a dissertation. Aim for a tone that’s engaged and thoughtful: you’re a writer thinking clearly about craft.

    Most commentaries at this level should be around 300–500 words — enough to make substantive points but focused enough to remain analytical rather than drifting into description.


    A-Level English Language at Thorogood English includes dedicated work on the creative writing component and commentary, with individual feedback at every stage. Join the waiting list for January 2027 classes.

  • How to Answer Language Analysis Questions in IGCSE English: A Practical Guide

    Language analysis questions — questions that ask you to comment on the effects of the writer’s language choices — are the most intellectually demanding questions in IGCSE English Language. They’re also the questions where top marks are most attainable, once you understand what distinguishes a high-scoring answer from a mediocre one.

    Here is the difference, stated plainly: a mediocre answer identifies features and names them. A high-scoring answer identifies features, names them, and explains precisely and specifically what effect they create in this passage.

    The Structure of a Strong Language Analysis Answer

    Every language analysis point needs three things:

    1. A quotation — specific words or a short phrase from the text
    2. Identification of the technique or feature — what is this? (metaphor, verb choice, alliteration, rhetorical question…)
    3. An explanation of effect — what does this do? What feeling, image, idea, or reaction does it create in the reader?

    The third element is where most students underperform. They name the technique correctly, quote accurately, and then write: “This creates a sense of tension.” That’s not an explanation — it’s a label. What kind of tension? How does this specific word choice, in this specific sentence, in this specific context, create that tension? The answer to those questions is what earns the marks.

    What “Zoom In” Actually Means

    You’ll often hear teachers say “zoom in on the language.” Here’s what that means in practice.

    Instead of quoting a long passage and commenting on it generally, select a single word or short phrase and analyse why that specific word works — what its connotations are, what it implies about the subject, what alternative words the writer could have used and why they didn’t.

    Take the verb “lurked” versus “stood” or “waited.” All three describe a person in a position, but “lurked” carries connotations of threat, hidden intention, predatory patience. A single verb can do enormous work, and an analysis that notices and explains that work is much more impressive than an analysis that quotes three sentences and says they “paint a vivid picture.”

    Avoid These Phrases

    Certain phrases appear in almost every mediocre language analysis response and signal that real analysis isn’t happening:

    • “This creates a vivid image in the reader’s mind” — almost always true but almost always empty
    • “This shows that…” — often followed by a paraphrase of the quotation rather than an analysis of it
    • “The writer uses language effectively” — circular and meaningless
    • “This technique makes the reader want to read on” — usually a guess, and usually not what’s actually being asked

    Replace these habits with more specific language: “The verb… suggests…”, “The connotations of… imply…”, “By choosing… rather than…, the writer conveys…”

    Selecting What to Analyse

    You don’t have to comment on everything. You need to comment well on a selection. Choose the features where you can say the most — where you have a genuine observation about the effect of that specific word or phrase, not just a name-and-label response.

    Aim for depth over breadth. Two genuinely analytical paragraphs, each exploring a specific feature with precision, will outscore five superficial paragraphs that name five features and say little about any of them.

    A Useful Test

    After writing each analytical point, ask yourself: “Is what I’ve written here specific to this quotation, or could I have written almost the same thing about any quotation from any text?” If it could apply to anything, it’s not analysis — it’s a template. Push yourself to say something that is only true of this particular language choice in this particular context.


    Language analysis is the skill Thorogood English invests most time in across all its IGCSE English courses — because it’s the skill that makes the biggest difference to grades. Join the waiting list for January 2027.

  • Creative Writing for IGCSE English: How to Make Your Story Stand Out

    Every IGCSE English Language examiner has read thousands of stories about car crashes, surprise parties, and characters “waking up from a dream.” These stories are not bad. They are forgettable. And forgettable, in a sea of scripts, means mediocre marks.

    The stories that score highest are not necessarily the most dramatic or inventive — they’re the most crafted. Here’s what that means in practice.

    Choose a Small Story and Tell It Brilliantly

    The most common mistake is trying to fit too much story into a limited word count. Chases, confrontations, revelations, plot twists, backstory — all of these take words to establish and resolve. A story that tries to do too much ends up rushing everything and doing none of it well.

    The highest-scoring IGCSE stories are often very small. A single moment. A conversation. An observation of a stranger. One decision and its immediate consequence. Small stories allow the space to slow down and write with real precision — to notice the light through a window, the way someone holds their hands, the specific texture of a moment — and that precision is what distinguishes a 7 from a 9.

    Start in the Middle

    Openings that begin at the very beginning — “It was a cold morning when…” — lose the reader immediately. The reader needs a reason to keep reading, and that reason is almost always something immediate: a character in the middle of doing something, a question the reader needs answered, a surprising image that demands explanation.

    Start in the middle of the action, in the middle of a conversation, or with a striking image that creates immediate curiosity. The setup can come later — and often doesn’t need to come at all.

    Use Specific Sensory Details

    Vague description is the enemy of memorable writing. “The room was messy” tells us almost nothing. “Three days of coffee cups, a paperback face-down on the floor, and a jacket that had been over the back of the same chair since Tuesday” tells us about a specific person living a specific life.

    The rule: be concrete. Replace general nouns and adjectives with specific ones. Instead of “a car,” write “a red Volvo with a dented bumper.” Instead of “she felt sad,” write what sadness looks like in this person’s body: the way she keeps starting sentences and not finishing them, the coffee going cold on the counter.

    This applies to all five senses — though students tend to rely heavily on sight and neglect sound, smell, and touch. The weight of a bag. The smell of an empty house. The particular sound of a text message at 3am. Sensory details that are unexpected often create the most powerful effect.

    Vary Your Sentence Length — Deliberately

    Sentence rhythm is one of the most powerful tools available to a writer, and one of the least used by exam candidates. When all your sentences are roughly the same length, the writing feels flat — the reader loses the sense that anything is accelerating or slowing down.

    Long sentences can create a sense of flow, accumulation, or breathlessness. Short ones land hard. The contrast between them is where the effect lives. Practise writing a passage where the sentences get progressively shorter as the tension rises — then stop with a one-word or two-word sentence. It’s a technique with almost unfailing impact when used well.

    End Before the End

    The most common problem with endings is that they tie everything up too neatly: the characters reconcile, the problem is solved, everyone understands what they’ve learned. These endings feel false because life doesn’t work like that — and they feel anticlimactic because they deflate the tension rather than releasing it.

    The most effective endings often end one beat before the “real” ending — the moment just before the conversation happens, the image of a character standing at a door they haven’t yet opened, a question left in the air. This makes the reader’s imagination complete the story, which is always more powerful than any explicit conclusion you could write.


    Creative writing is taught and practised in detail in Thorogood English’s IGCSE English Language course — with written feedback on every piece. Join the waiting list for January 2027.

  • A-Level English Language Investigation: How to Choose the Right Topic

    The language investigation is the coursework component that distinguishes A-Level English Language from the purely essay-based papers. It’s also the piece of work students most commonly either choose badly — picking a topic that looks interesting but turns out to be unworkable — or leave until too late.

    Getting the topic right early makes everything else easier. Here’s how to do it.

    What the Investigation Actually Involves

    The investigation asks you to collect real language data, apply linguistic frameworks to analyse it, and draw conclusions about patterns, features, or variations. You’ll need a research question (sometimes called an “aim”), a methodology section explaining how you collected your data, an analysis section applying frameworks, and a conclusion reflecting on what you found.

    The topic needs to generate a sufficient quantity and variety of analysable data. It needs to be genuinely investigative — not simply descriptive. And it needs to be narrow enough that you can say something specific and interesting, rather than vaguely general.

    Choosing a Topic: Three Questions

    1. Can I actually collect this data?

    This is the most practical question and it comes first. A fascinating research question is worthless if the data to investigate it doesn’t exist or can’t be accessed. You need real language samples — transcripts of conversations, written texts, social media posts, advertising copy, historical documents — that you can obtain within the time available.

    Good data sources include: conversations you can record and transcribe yourself, text messages and group chats (with permission from those involved), social media comments, news articles across different publications, historical texts available online, menus, product descriptions, instructional texts, or speeches.

    2. Is there something genuinely to investigate?

    The best topics have a genuine research question — a question you don’t already know the answer to, and whose answer might be interesting. “How do people talk?” is not an investigation. “How do male and female friends use hedging and interruption differently in casual conversation?” is an investigation — it has a specific linguistic phenomenon, a defined context, and a meaningful comparison to draw.

    Good investigation structures involve comparison: across genders, age groups, publications, time periods, regions, or registers. Comparison gives you something to analyse and draw conclusions from rather than simply describing a single text type.

    3. Can I connect it to linguistic theory?

    The investigation should be grounded in the language concepts you’ve studied. Before finalising your topic, check that you can name at least three or four theoretical frameworks or concepts that relate to it — and that you know what those theories say. A topic on gender and language connects to Deborah Tannen, Robin Lakoff, and Grice’s maxims. A topic on language change connects to prescriptivism and descriptivism. If you can’t think of the relevant theory, the topic probably isn’t the right fit.

    Topics That Work Well

    • Language and gender: comparing speech patterns, online communication, or written texts produced by different genders
    • Language change: comparing historical texts (advertisements, newspapers, recipe books) from different decades
    • Regional variation: comparing dialect features in transcripts from different areas
    • Professional register: comparing the language of the same profession across time (medical language, legal language, sports commentary)
    • Child language acquisition: analysing transcripts of young children’s speech development
    • Online and social media language: comparing language across platforms or comparing formal and informal registers in digital contexts
    • Political language: analysing speeches across different politicians, parties, or eras

    Topics That Often Don’t Work

    • Topics where the conclusion is already obvious before you start (“politicians use persuasive language in speeches” — yes, they do, now what?)
    • Topics where the data is too homogeneous — only one type of text, only one speaker, no variation to analyse
    • Topics so broad that you can’t say anything specific (“the language of advertising”)
    • Topics requiring data you can’t actually obtain (historical spoken language, private conversations you have no access to)

    Start Early — and Talk to Your Teacher

    The investigation is typically due in Year 13, but the earlier you settle on a topic and start collecting data, the better. A topic chosen in June of Year 12 gives you the summer to gather data at leisure. A topic chosen in October of Year 13 gives you a few frantic weeks to gather and analyse before the deadline.

    Discuss your topic with your teacher or tutor before committing. An experienced teacher will quickly identify whether a topic is workable and, if not, nudge it in a direction that is.


    A-Level English Language at Thorogood English includes support for the language investigation at every stage — from topic selection through methodology, analysis, and final write-up. Join the waiting list for January 2027 classes.

  • IGCSE English Language: How to Write a Perfect Summary

    Summary writing is one of the questions students most consistently underperform on — and one of the questions they can most reliably improve with the right technique. The problem is almost always the same: students describe and copy rather than summarise and select.

    Here’s what summary writing in IGCSE English Language actually requires — and how to do it well.

    What Is a Summary Question Actually Asking?

    A summary question asks you to extract the key information on a specific aspect or aspects of the text and present it concisely in your own words. The question will specify exactly what you’re summarising: “Summarise what the writer says about the dangers of social media,” or “Write a summary of the arguments both for and against the proposed development.”

    Two things are being assessed: selection (have you found the relevant information?) and transformation (have you expressed it in your own words, concisely?). Copying large chunks of the source text, no matter how relevant, does not score well.

    Step 1: Read the Question Carefully — Then the Text

    Before you even look at the source text, read the summary question and underline exactly what you’re asked to summarise. Then, as you read the text, you’re reading with a specific filter active: you’re looking for this information and only this information.

    Students who read the text first and then try to fit it to the question often include irrelevant information and miss some relevant information. The question should prime the reading.

    Step 2: Find and Mark the Relevant Points

    Go through the text and mark (underline, bracket, or annotate) every point that is relevant to the question. Don’t worry yet about the order or how you’ll express them — just find them all.

    Most summary questions have a specified number of marks and/or a word limit that gives you a rough indication of how many points you’re expected to find. A 10-mark summary question typically expects 8–10 valid points. A 5-mark one expects around 5. If you’re finding significantly more or fewer than the mark allocation suggests, re-read the question to check whether you’re interpreting it correctly.

    Step 3: Transform into Your Own Words

    This is where most students lose marks. “In your own words” is not a suggestion — it is a marking criterion. A response that lifts phrases directly from the text will be penalised, even if it has correctly identified the relevant information.

    For each point you’ve identified, ask yourself: if I were explaining this to someone who hadn’t read the text, what would I say? Then write that. Don’t look back at the source text while you’re writing the transformed version — it’s much harder to resist copying if the original is in front of you.

    Useful transformation techniques: change the word class (turn a verb into a noun, or vice versa), use a synonym for key terms, restructure the sentence, and combine two short points into one more complex sentence.

    Step 4: Write in a Neutral, Concise Register

    A summary is not an essay and it is not a personal response. You don’t need an introduction that explains what you’re about to summarise. You don’t need a conclusion. You don’t need to evaluate or agree or disagree with the source text’s arguments. A summary presents the information — that’s all.

    Keep sentences clear and information-dense. Avoid padding: “The writer goes on to talk about how…” wastes words. Just state the point: “Experts warn that…”

    Common Mistakes to Avoid

    • Copying from the source: even a few lifted phrases can reduce your marks significantly
    • Including irrelevant information: anything not directly related to the specified question is wasted words
    • Adding your own opinions: a summary reports — it doesn’t evaluate
    • Summarising the whole text rather than the specified aspect: read and re-read the question
    • Neglecting to check your word limit: if a limit is given, stay within it — going over is penalised

    Summary writing improves quickly with practised feedback on the specific technique. At Thorogood English, every summary exercise is marked individually with written guidance. Join the waiting list for January 2027 IGCSE classes.

  • IGCSE English Literature: How to Tackle an Unseen Poem

    Of all the sections in IGCSE English Literature, unseen poetry causes the most anxiety. The name itself feels like a threat: you’ll be shown a poem you’ve never read, in an exam room, with the clock ticking, and expected to produce a piece of intelligent literary analysis from scratch.

    The good news: it’s far more manageable than it sounds, and the method is learnable. Here is a reliable approach to tackling any unseen poem.

    Step 1: Read It Twice Before You Touch Your Pen

    The biggest mistake is reading the poem once, panicking that you don’t understand it, and starting to write something — anything — just to feel like you’re doing something. Resist this impulse.

    Read the poem all the way through without annotating. Just read it as a piece of writing. Then read it again, this time noticing what it makes you feel and what you find striking. Then — and only then — start annotating.

    Your first impression of a poem is data. Don’t throw it away by rushing into analysis before you’ve absorbed what the poem is actually doing.

    Step 2: Establish the Basics

    Before analysing individual language choices, establish the poem’s essential coordinates. Who is speaking? Who are they speaking to? What situation are they describing? What is the poem’s overall tone — mournful, celebratory, angry, contemplative? What shift happens in the poem, if any?

    A poem without a volta (a turn or shift) is relatively rare. Most poems move — from one emotional state to another, from one perspective to another, from question to answer or answer to question. Identifying that movement gives you the poem’s architecture, and architecture gives you something to organise your response around.

    Step 3: Annotate — But With Purpose

    Annotation should not be a process of circling every technique you can name and labelling it: “metaphor”, “alliteration”, “enjambment”. Examiners are not impressed by feature-spotting. They are impressed by the ability to explain what a feature does in this poem — how it contributes to the poem’s meaning, tone, or effect.

    As you annotate, ask yourself: Why this word and not another? Why this structure? What does this comparison say about the subject that a literal description wouldn’t? What is the effect of the line break here?

    Write your thinking in the margins, not just labels. “The short sentences here create urgency — mirrors the panic of the moment” is more useful than “short sentences = effect”.

    Step 4: Choose Your Two or Three Best Points

    You don’t need to write about every interesting thing in the poem. A well-developed analysis of two or three genuinely significant features will score higher than a superficial tour of everything you noticed.

    Choose features where you can explain the effect in some depth — where you can say something more than “this creates imagery”. Avoid making very general points: “the poet uses lots of vivid language to describe the scene” is not analysis, it is description of analysis that hasn’t yet happened.

    Step 5: Structure Your Response

    The most reliable structure for an unseen poem response: a brief opening that identifies the poem’s subject and overall effect, followed by two or three analytical paragraphs, followed by a comment on the poem’s overall impact and what it leaves you with. This is not the only structure, but it works.

    Each analytical paragraph should follow a clear pattern: make a point, provide a quotation from the poem, explain what the specific language choice does (not just what it means), and connect it back to the poem’s overall meaning or tone.

    What to Do If You Don’t Understand the Poem

    This is more common than students admit, and it’s less of a problem than it feels. You don’t need to fully understand a poem to write well about it. You need to respond to what it makes you feel, explain what specific language choices are doing, and make intelligent inferences about meaning — even tentative ones. “The poem seems to be exploring…” is a perfectly valid opening. Certainty is not required. Engagement is.

    A poem that feels inaccessible on first reading often becomes much clearer on second and third reading. Commit to reading it carefully rather than reaching for a sense of total understanding before you’ve put in the time.


    Unseen poetry is practised extensively in Thorogood English’s IGCSE English Literature classes — with genuine poems, individual feedback, and the confidence-building that comes from doing something difficult in good company. Join the waiting list for January 2027.

  • Teaching Your Child to Love Reading: The Single Best Investment for English Exams

    Ask any English examiner — at GCSE, IGCSE, or A-Level — what distinguishes the highest-scoring students from the rest, and you’ll hear the same answer: they read. Not just textbooks or revision guides. They read fiction, non-fiction, newspapers, novels. They read widely, often, and with genuine interest.

    This is not a coincidence. Reading is not a passive activity — it builds vocabulary, sharpens analytical instinct, expands familiarity with different styles of writing, and develops the internal sense of what good prose sounds like that no amount of grammar drilling can replicate. The students who read for pleasure tend to write better and think more flexibly than students who don’t — and the advantage compounds over years.

    So how do you build a reading habit in a child who’d rather be doing almost anything else?

    Start with What They’re Actually Interested In

    The single biggest mistake parents make is trying to build a reading habit with books they think their child should like — literary classics, prize-winning literary fiction, improving non-fiction. These are not bad books, but they’re rarely the books that turn a non-reader into a reader.

    The gateway book — the one that makes a child think “oh, I want to read another one” — is almost never a canonical text. It’s a funny book, an exciting book, a book about something they already care about passionately. Once a child is reading with genuine appetite, the range and ambition of what they want to read tends to expand naturally. The trick is getting them through the gate.

    Read Aloud Together — Even (Especially) to Older Children

    Reading aloud to children has a slightly unfortunate reputation for being a thing you stop doing once they can read independently. This is a shame, because it’s enormously valuable well into secondary school.

    When you read aloud to an older child — at bedtime, during a long journey, in those odd twenty minutes before dinner — you expose them to vocabulary and sentence structures that are more complex than what they might choose independently. You model what engaged reading sounds like. And you give reading a social, warm dimension that purely independent reading sometimes lacks, which matters enormously for children who associate books with solitude and effort rather than pleasure.

    Remove Competition from Devices

    This one is simple to say and hard to do: reading is in constant competition with more immediately rewarding alternatives. Screens, games, social media, streaming — all of these are designed by people who understand attention and dopamine, and they’re very good at their job.

    Creating conditions where reading is the natural default — a quiet time each evening without devices, a basket of books in the room where children relax, long journeys without screens — makes reading much more likely to happen. The competition is not between books and boredom; it’s between books and extremely engaging alternatives. You need to tilt the context.

    Books Before Bed

    The bedtime reading habit is probably the most valuable and durable of all. A rule of “twenty minutes of reading before the light goes off” — enforced as consistently as any other bedtime routine — will build a reading habit faster than almost any other single intervention, precisely because it creates a regular slot where there’s nothing else to do and a book is the most appealing option available.

    Children who read for twenty minutes every night before bed read for more than 120 hours a year. Over a primary school career, that’s an extraordinary volume of text — and every page of it is building the verbal intelligence that English exams reward.

    Talk About Books

    Children who grow up in households where books are discussed — where adults talk about what they’re reading, share opinions about characters and plots, argue about whether an ending was satisfying — absorb a set of analytical habits that transfer directly to English exams. They learn to form opinions about text, to find evidence for their views, to change their minds when someone makes a good point. These are precisely the skills that separate a C grade English response from an A grade one.

    You don’t need to conduct formal discussions. “What do you think of the main character? Do you think she made the right decision?” at the dinner table is enough. The point is treating books as things worth thinking and talking about, not just things worth completing.


    Thorogood English’s Reading List has curated recommendations for 11+, IGCSE, and A-Level students — books that stretch and engage young readers while building the vocabulary and analytical instincts that exams reward. Browse it here, and join the waiting list for January 2027 classes.

  • IGCSE English Language: How to Write a Directed Piece (Letters, Articles, Speeches)

    Directed writing sits at the heart of IGCSE English Language — and it’s one of the most rewarding parts of the exam to prepare for, because it rewards specific, learnable techniques rather than vague “talent”. Once you understand what it’s asking for, you can practise deliberately and improve measurably.

    Here’s what you need to know.

    What Is Directed Writing?

    Directed writing asks you to produce a piece of writing in a specific form — a letter, an article, a speech, a report, a leaflet — for a specific audience and purpose. You’re given source material (in the reading section of the paper) and you’re asked to use and transform that material in your response.

    The key word is directed. You’re not writing freely — you’re writing in response to a specific brief. That brief contains everything you need: the form, the audience, the purpose, and (usually) some indication of what content to include.

    The Three Things That Are Always Assessed

    Whatever the specific question, directed writing is always assessed on the same three dimensions:

    • Content: Have you included the relevant information? Have you used and transformed the source material appropriately?
    • Register and audience awareness: Is your writing pitched correctly for the intended reader? A letter to a friend has a completely different register from a formal letter to a council — both in vocabulary and in structure.
    • Form: Does your writing look like the form it’s supposed to be? A speech needs to sound like a speech. An article needs to be structured like an article.

    Many students lose marks on register and form because they focus only on content. Don’t make that mistake.

    Form: What Each Type Looks Like

    Formal Letter

    Include: a return address (top right), date, recipient address (left), formal salutation (Dear Sir/Madam or Dear [Name]), a formal sign-off (Yours faithfully if you don’t know the name; Yours sincerely if you do). Paragraphs should be clearly structured: introduction stating purpose, body paragraphs each with a clear point, a closing paragraph with a clear request or action. Formal vocabulary throughout — no contractions, no slang.

    Article

    Include: a headline, a subheading or introductory paragraph that hooks the reader, clearly structured paragraphs, and (where appropriate) a closing comment that resonates. Articles tend to have a point of view — they’re not neutral information dumps. Make sure your tone matches the publication: an article for a student newspaper has a different register from a piece for a national broadsheet.

    Speech

    Begin by addressing the audience directly: “Good afternoon, and thank you for the opportunity to speak today.” Use rhetorical techniques — rule of three, direct address, rhetorical questions — because you’re performing language, not just communicating information. End with a strong, memorable closing line that earns applause. The register depends on the audience: a speech to a school assembly is different from a speech to a planning committee.

    Report

    Reports use headers and a more formal, impersonal tone. Begin with a brief statement of purpose (“This report examines…”), use subheadings for each section, present findings objectively, and end with clear recommendations. Avoid using “I” excessively — reports tend towards passive constructions and impersonal phrasing.

    Register: The Difference Between Getting It Right and Getting It Wrong

    Register is the single most commonly mishandled aspect of directed writing. Students who can write fluently in their own voice sometimes forget to shift into the voice required by the task.

    Before you start writing, spend 60 seconds asking: Who am I writing to? What is my relationship with them? What do they already know about this topic? What tone will they respond to?

    A letter of complaint to a company should be firm, precise, and unemotional — not ranting. A speech to inspire younger students should be warm and inclusive — not lecturing. A report for a school governor should be formal and evidenced — not chatty.

    Using the Source Material Well

    You’re given source material for a reason: you’re expected to use it. But you’re not expected to copy it — you’re expected to transform it. This means:

    • Taking facts, statistics, or arguments from the source and expressing them in your own words
    • Adapting the information for a different audience — simplifying complex ideas for younger readers, or adding nuance for a more expert one
    • Selecting what’s relevant for your specific purpose — a directed letter about a problem doesn’t need every detail from a source about that problem, only the ones that support your argument

    Direct quotation from the source is usually not what’s being rewarded. Transformation and selection are.

    A Simple Preparation Approach

    Practise writing in each form at least once before the exam — not just reading about how it should be done, but actually writing a full piece. Have each one marked with specific feedback on register and form, not just content. Then practise again, applying the feedback.

    Two or three practised pieces per form, carefully marked and reviewed, will serve you better than ten pieces with no feedback.


    At Thorogood English, every piece of directed writing gets individual written feedback — not just a mark, but specific guidance on what to change and why. Join the waiting list for IGCSE English classes opening January 2027.

  • Creative Writing Prompts for IGCSE English Practice

    Creative writing improves with practice — but not with aimless practice. Writing without direction tends to reinforce existing habits rather than push you to develop new skills. Using varied, specific prompts forces you out of your comfort zone and builds range.

    Here are 20 prompts — some narrative, some descriptive — for IGCSE English Language practice. After the prompts, there are tips on how to use them most effectively.

    Descriptive Writing Prompts

    1. Describe a market at closing time, as the last traders pack up and the crowds thin.
    2. Write a description of a room that has been left empty for ten years.
    3. Describe the moment just before a storm breaks.
    4. Write about a city street at 3am — the sounds, the light, the people still awake.
    5. Describe a garden through the eyes of someone who has never seen one before.
    6. Write a description of the sea from two contrasting perspectives: a swimmer who loves it, and one who fears it.
    7. Describe the atmosphere inside a busy train station at rush hour.
    8. Write about a bonfire at night — the light, the heat, the people gathered around it.
    9. Describe a single moment of silence in the middle of a noisy event.
    10. Write a description of your childhood home as it is now, versus how you remember it.

    Narrative Writing Prompts

    1. Write a story that begins with the line: “The door was already open when she arrived.”
    2. A letter is delivered to the wrong address — and the person who receives it decides to read it.
    3. Write a story about a conversation between two strangers who discover they share an unexpected connection.
    4. A child finds an object in the attic that their parents have never mentioned.
    5. Write a story set in the five minutes before an important event — a performance, an exam, a difficult conversation.
    6. Someone returns to a place they left years ago. It has changed — but so have they.
    7. A story told entirely through what is not said — the silences and omissions between two people.
    8. Write from the perspective of the last person to leave a place that is about to be demolished.
    9. A story in which the main character discovers they’ve been wrong about something they were certain of.
    10. Write a story that ends with the words: “It didn’t matter anymore.”

    How to Use These Prompts Effectively

    • Time yourself. Set 35–40 minutes, as you’d have in the exam. Writing under time pressure is a specific skill that only develops through practice.
    • Plan first. Spend 3–4 minutes planning before you write. Even a rough outline — opening image, key moment, ending — produces a noticeably better piece.
    • Don’t repeat your defaults. If you always write in first person, try third. If you always write present tense, try past. Range and variety develop through deliberate effort.
    • Read your work back. After writing, read it aloud quietly. You’ll catch awkward phrasing, repetition, and errors you’d miss on a silent re-read.
    • Get feedback. Self-review has limits. Someone who understands the mark scheme can tell you specifically what would improve a piece — not just that it needs to be better.

    At Thorogood English, creative writing practice and feedback are built into the IGCSE English Language programme throughout the course — not just in the lead-up to the exam. Join the waiting list for January 2027.

  • How to Write a Formal Letter for IGCSE English Language

    Formal letter writing is one of the most common directed writing tasks in IGCSE English Language — and one of the most penalised when students get the conventions wrong. The good news: the conventions are entirely learnable, and following them correctly earns marks before you’ve even written a sentence of content.

    The Layout

    A formal letter has a specific layout that signals immediately to the examiner that you know what you’re doing:

    • Your address (top right, or top left — conventions vary, but be consistent)
    • The date below your address
    • The recipient’s name and address (left-aligned, below the date)
    • Salutation: “Dear Mr Smith,” or “Dear Sir/Madam,” if you don’t know the name
    • Body paragraphs
    • Sign-off: “Yours sincerely,” if you used a name; “Yours faithfully,” if you used Sir/Madam
    • Your name (printed below the sign-off)

    The “sincerely/faithfully” rule trips up many students. Remember it this way: if you know their name, you’re being sincere. If you don’t know their name (Sir/Madam), you’re being faithful to the form.

    Tone and Register

    A formal letter is not the place for contractions (don’t → do not), slang, exclamation marks, or casual phrasing. The tone should be measured, polite, and direct — even if the letter is a complaint.

    This doesn’t mean stiff or robotic. The best formal letters have a clear, confident voice — they just channel it through formal structures. Read quality business correspondence or formal op-eds to develop a feel for this register.

    Structure: Purpose First

    Open your letter by stating its purpose clearly in the first paragraph. Don’t warm up with pleasantries — get to the point. “I am writing to express my concern regarding…” or “I am writing to apply for…” tells the reader immediately what this letter is about.

    Each subsequent paragraph should address one aspect of your purpose: background information, your specific points or requests, any relevant evidence, and what you’d like the recipient to do next.

    Close by summarising your main request or point, and thanking the recipient for their time. One sentence each is sufficient — don’t over-extend the ending.

    Common Mistakes to Avoid

    • Using “Yours sincerely” with “Dear Sir/Madam” — this loses marks
    • Forgetting the address and date entirely
    • Using an informal, conversational tone throughout
    • Making the letter too short — you need enough content to demonstrate range and vocabulary
    • Not reading the task carefully: if the task says write to a headteacher, the register should reflect that recipient specifically

    A Quick Template

    47 Thornbury Road
    London
    SE4 2PQ
    
    22 July 2026
    
    The Headteacher
    Ashfield Secondary School
    School Lane
    London SE5 1AB
    
    Dear Ms Harrison,
    
    [Opening paragraph: state your purpose clearly]
    
    [Second paragraph: develop your main point with detail/evidence]
    
    [Third paragraph: additional point or elaboration]
    
    [Closing paragraph: restate your request/purpose and thank them]
    
    Yours sincerely,
    
    [Your full name]

    Formal letter writing is covered in depth as part of the Thorogood English IGCSE English Language programme — along with reports, speeches, articles, and all other directed writing forms. Join the waiting list for January 2027.