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Edited on Wed Nov-24-04 12:40 AM by Dem Agog
Hi everyone, you might know me from such famous threads "How do you even begin to write a book?"
I took "fudge stripe cookay's" advice and purchased the "Complete Guide to Writing Fiction". I'm on chapter two, character development. I'm taking everyone's advice here and I'm working on exercises, because I realized while reading this book that no one has ever truly taught me the ins and outs of writing a story. Sure, I had mediocre English teachers, and a few creative writing courses, but character and plot development and other technical devices were never covered in depth much. Mostly they said, "Go write" and if we came back with something approaching decent grammar we passed.
So as I was dozing off tonight I came up with this character and situation. This is just an exercise in character development and writing a "hook" as an intro to a story.
If any of you have the time or the inclination, I would very much appreciate it if you could read this and provide some constructive criticism for me. Do I convey the character and the scene well enough? Is it a good beginning for a characterization, or perhaps a short story? What is your opinion?
Thanks!!! (Edited to add more as I've written it.)
================================================ Being a housewife and a mother was all that Patricia Wilson had ever wanted, but it soon became all that she despised. A modern day Blanche DuBois who fancied herself Scarlett O’Hara, Pat waved her arms about wildly as ashes dangled precariously from the cigarette clutched in her bony fingers. Having previously been saturated by AquaNet, her fine, silver curls stood stock still as she careened about the room in a manic frenzy.
The movers had arrived only a short hour before. The foreman introduced himself as George and in a manner altogether too personal, Pat had taken to talking to George as if he were her best friend.
”George, what do you think of the area? I just moved here you know,” she chatted excitedly as the robust man heaved her antique armoire through the door, grunting and sweating in the midday heat.
“I’m from the south,” she continued, putting a flirtatious hand on George’s bicep, somewhat impeding his ability to wedge the armoire completely into the room. George’s struggles continued, unnoticed, as Pat babbled incessantly.
“I hear that y’all get snow up here, is that right?”
Hearing only a strained grunt, Pat continued as she walked down the hallway, raising her voice as she walked further away.
“We don’t get snow down south, ice is more like it. And you know, ice is much more destructive than snow. Why, y’all can get a foot of snow and not notice it a bit but when we get just an inch of ice, the power goes out and people’s cars start wrecking. People say that we southerners are bad drivers, but we aren’t. It’s just that we get ice, and it’s much worse.”
The droning continued incessantly as she trivialized the weather of Connecticut. George began to seriously rethink his decision to work in the service industry as he wedged her armoire into its final location in her small dark bedroom.
Pat seemed at once childishly oblivious and dodderingly old. Wisdom had avoided her but time had not. She chided George and his men for placing unpacked dishes on the third shelf in her kitchen.
“Now George,” she said as playfully as a fresh schoolgirl, “Y’all know I can’t reach up that high! What are ya trying to do, kill me?”
Unpacking her coffee maker and three cartons of cigarettes, Pat continued nonstop, “I’m only 5’1 ya know. I used to be 5’3” but the doctor tells me I’ve stooped over some because of osteoporosis. Between that and the hot flashes, I’ve gotta say, aging is a real bitch. You’re married George, right? I see a wedding ring on your finger.”
George nodded, “Yes ma’am.”
“Well George I’m sure your wife isn’t old enough yet, but when she gets older and goes through ‘The Change’ if you know what I mean, boy you’ve gotta look out! Do you have any kids, George?”
George was uncomfortable with the direction Pat’s conversation was taking but he couldn’t help smiling proudly as he said, “Yes ma’am, I’ve got me two daughters. One’s just two and the other just turned six.”
Pat beamed right back before turning serious again. “Well how about that! George let me tell you, I’m sure you thought your wife was right crazy when she was pregnant, but you wait until menopause. It’s a roller coaster. Anyway, my doctor has me on hormones to try to control it, but still my bones are as fragile as a light bulb, so you be sure not to put anything on those high shelves okay?”
George nodded without looking up.
Pat batted her eyelashes trying to get George's attention again, “If I break a hip trying to get to my gravy boat, I’m coming after you, George!”
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