I was able to attend an SCBWI conference last Saturday. One of the classes that I attended talked a lot about character development and how, as authors, we need to know our characters so we can write them. I've had the experience of sitting down to write a story, with a plot figured out, but with sketchy characters. I couldn't write, because I didn't know how they would react to the situation I put them in. Before I could start, I had to go back and do some writing on my own to flesh out the characters in my mind. The scenes I wrote didn't end up in my book, but they helped me to understand who my characters were and how they would react when I tossed them into my book.
In keeping with the activity from the conference, the writing prompt is:
Choose a character from a current work in progress (or make up another character) and put them on a path in the forest, just as they round a bend and find a large black bear.
Enjoy!
*********************************************************************************
My response:
(I almost feel like I'm coping out on this one, but it was the first character of mine that I thought of, and it is exactly what she would do.)
Emmaleen stopped and looked up at the great, black beast on the trail in front of her. It was looking away at the moment, but the wind would carry her scent to it. She tightened her shields and continued on. The path was wide enough for both of them, if the bear was willing to share, and if not, Emmaleen would just have to push him off.
I used the setting of my “WIP,” which happens to mainly be narrow alleyways of 17th century Edinburgh, but I used my main character and added the bear…
ReplyDeleteI turned the corner and stopped short, my now-ruined slippers sliding about on the cobbles so that I nearly lost my footing.
In the tiny courtyard before me was a furry creature, tall as a man as it reared up on its hind legs. I heard a grunting roar and felt a hot rush of air, calling to mind the stench of swine or of dogs rolling in filth.
“Get back, lass!” someone shouted. Only then did I see the men; three of them, barrel-chested and thick-armed, their faces florid as they kept a white-knuckled grip on ropes that barely restrained the creature. The animal was bound tight about the neck. It was not pleased with its confinement, as any fool could see.
“What are you doing?” I called. “What is that…” Words failed me, but I recognized the creature. A great bear, like those I’d seen illustrated in a book read long ago. But how came it here?
“He’ll bite yer head off, aye,” a woman called from a high window nearby, cackling. “Or take his claws to that face of yours. Ye’d no’ be so pretty after that, now, would ye, lassie?”
A sweating, shoving crowd gathered about the men.
“Stand back, all of ye!” roared one of the men. “There’s time before we begin. Beanie’ll take wagers.”
“Where’s the cur?” a man shouted. At the same moment, a cacophony of barking erupted from within a nearby house, and the door exploded open, revealing the largest hound I’d ever seen. He dragged his owner out with him, and the crowd roared in approval.
The beast called to mind one of Grandfather’s fine hunting dogs, but this poor creature, like the great bear, was bound tight, this time with a chain. The hound frothed at the mouth and whined. I could see the whites of its eyes.
I turned away, pushing against the still-gathering crowd, like a boat trying to force its way upstream. Once I was out of sight of that wretched courtyard, I realized that I was holding my knife in my hand, my fingers curled tight about the handle, my knuckles white.
My breath came in gasps. Only then did I feel the tears upon my face.
Captives like me, the bear and the hound. Here to kill one another for…amusement?
And what of me, prisoner as well, though not yet bound with ropes and chains? What is going to happen to me?
I did not return my knife to its hidden pocket. Instead, I kept it at the ready. And I retraced my steps.
Certainly, it was a fool’s errand.
But I went, all the same.