Rules

Rules:
1. Read the writing prompt, but only the prompt. I don't want your writing to be influenced by my (or anyone else's) response.
2. Sit down and spend 15-30 min writing whatever comes to mind. Poetry, prose, whatever you want, just write something. Don't make it something you labor over. Write. Enjoy.
3. Share in the comments.
4. Please keep it PG-13 and under. Don't go all 50 Shades or Chucky on me.
5. There is a time and a place for constructive criticism. This is not one of them. This is a stretching exercise. Please remember the words of Thumper, "If you can't say nothin' nice, don't say nothin' at all."
***All material on this site remains the property of the original author. Do not copy or share without permission. Thank you! **


Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Character Development

I know I've hit on this topic before, but character development is so important.

Something I've heard time and time again is that your antagonist can't just be bad to be bad, they need to have a motivation, something that makes their actions "good" from their point of view.

My latest WIP has a side arc about a saboteur.  When I finished the rest of the main storyline and tied up the other loose ends, I realized I hadn't finished the side arc about the saboteur.  In all honesty, I was probably too anxious to finish, and I plucked the character that made the most sense to me and made him the bad guy.

Fast forward a few months, and I had an agent give me really good feedback on the ms.  One of her points was that the person I'd named as the saboteur was too obvious.  She was right.  So, I've been trying to figure out a better way of finishing off that story arc.  I've narrowed down my options, and I'm playing with the new antagonist, but I have to establish his motivation.

For something like this, I recommend explorative writing.  Typically, it's not something that will ever appear in the pages of my ms, but it will help me understand my character better, and therefore write them better where they do appear in the book.

This prompt is to write a scene for one of your characters that won't ever appear in your story, but that will give you a better understanding of your character.

Enjoy!

*Edited: With some people coming to read this blog who are also reading my ms, I'm changing the names of my characters, because otherwise this post ruins the ending.*

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My response:

The shadows grew longer outside the supermarket as the grumbling in Tom's stomach grew louder. 

He didn't know how long he'd been living on the streets, but it was long enough to learn he'd better wait until the group of men moved off before he moved in.  His ribs still ached from that last run-in he'd had.

A hot wind blew past his face, rank with rot and disease.  Sweat rolled down Tom's back.  The heat of the asphalt seeped through the rubber of his soles.  He sucked on his tongue, desperate to build moisture in his mouth.  Still, he waited.  A bottle of water later was better than risking a boot in the face now.

Until the dogs came.  Tom heard them coming from the next block over.  His right hand dropped down to cover a line of scabs on his left forearm.  It was bad being an orphan after the epidemic wiped out most of the population.  The dogs had it worse.  In the absence of loving, food-providing owners, it had literally become a dog-eat-dog world.

Unless they found something else more helpless.  Like an orphan.

Tom left the safety of his alleyway and shot towards the doors of the grocery store.  The barking of the dogs picked up behind him, and he heard the pad of paws on the pavement behind him.  Either he hadn't been fast enough, or they'd already picked up his scent.

A shadow stepped out of the doorway in front of Tom.  His feet faltered for just a moment, but then they regained their motion.  The dogs were definitely the worst of the two options. 

As Tom reached the doors, the shadow stepped forward into the fading sunlight.  It was a tall man, dark enough to be a shadow himself, with a halo of curly hair and bright, wide eyes. He pulled a gun from his belt and aimed it at Tom.

Tom threw himself to the ground.  The asphalt bit into his palms and his chin as a shot rang out above his head.

Behind him, a dog dropped, yelping.  The gun rang out again, followed by another thud. 

Tom lay on the ground, gasping and trembling. 

The man reached down, slipping his hands under Tom's arms and lifting him to his feet.  Without a word, he tucked his gun back into its holster and pulled a canteen from his bag.  Twisting the lid off, he pressed it to Tom's lips.

Tom's hands flew forward, snatching at the canteen and upending it into his mouth.  Water spilled from the corners of his mouth as he gulped, eyes closed.

The shadow man chuckled, like laughing thunder.  "Thought you might be thirsty."  He crouched down, his hands on his knees.  "I'm Mr. Smith.  What's your name?"

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