Exercise 4 - Heels

Exercise 4 - First Draft - Heh, another one about feet, lovely.  Probably gonna phone this one in tonight.  Not particularly interested about writing about feet again.
"You are in a waiting room (doctor's office, job interview, etc.). People are sitting more or less in a circle. Describe several of them -- focussing only on their feet! Type of shoes, cleanliness and condition of shoes, toes if they show, how they let their feet rest. Are they quiet or do the feet move? What can you tell about the person from the feet?"

Heels

As I walked in to the room, I looked around me, wondering what a strange place this was.  I expected to find people sitting in chairs, reading magazines, waiting for their turn to go in.  What I found was a thin room lined with a row of tiny booths on both sides.  Each one had a curtain drawn over it so that you could only see the feet of the person sitting inside.  My first impression of them was that they'd probably feel rather claustrophobic.  They couldn't have been more than two or three feet wide and judging by the position of people's feet, and about four feet deep.  I looked at my ticket again--four--and went to the corresponding booth.  I sat down on the chair inside and closed the curtain in front of me.  That's what I was supposed to do right?

I looked to the booth left of me and all I could see was the person's left foot.  It was cocked at such an angle that I'm guessing they had their right left straddled over their left.  High heels--a lady.  I still don't know how women walk in those things.  The heels were a subdued red, fairly classic in their design, with about a 3 inch heel.  The shoe seemed to be completely without blemish, they were either very new or well taken care of.  The foot looked to be in hose...it was hard to tell sometimes with that color.  "Nude" I think is how they refer to it.  Their foot didn't move, I'm guessing they felt calmer than I did the way my foot was bouncing constantly.

Probably a business woman or someone used to weird or stressful situations.  I mean really, what was the purpose of these booths?  Why can't we see each other.  I loosened my tie a little so I could breath a bit better and contemplated what type of job could require this type of anonymity of its applicants.  Come to think of it I didn't know much about the job myself.  I figured I'd find out soon enough, and concentrated on practicing my answers for interview questions until they came to get me.

Exercise 3 - The Seed

Exercise 3 - First Draft
"You meet a man in a bar in a strange town. He has a cat on his lap, and he orders a cup of coffee, slowly spoons sugar into it. He strokes the cat's black fur and says, "This contact is illusory. The cat and I are separated as though by a pane of glass, because man lives in time, in successiveness, while the magical animal lives in the present, in the eternity of the instant." What do you say back to him? And he to you? What does the cat do? What happened to this man before he came into the bar?"

The Seed

I stared blankly at the old man for a moment trying to wrap my head around what he had just said.  I was failing miserably and all I could manage at the time was, "Huh?"

The old man laughed.  Not condescendingly per say, but I felt like a kid who was confused why water makes things wet.  He seemed to ponder for a moment before replying to me.  "We're so busy living in the past or future, always looking at what could have been and what should be, that we never truly see how things are right now."  His cat stretched on his lap contentedly and purred loudly as the old man rubbed its belly.

"Trying to be all deep on me Gramps?  I'm not exactly in a fit state at the moment for deep...stuff."  I took another sip of my drink, hoping he might leave it at that.

He opened his mouth as if to say something but then thought better of it and smiled.  "I'm sorry to have bothered you.  Enjoy your evening."

"You too Gramps."

I couldn't explain it, but at that moment I didn't want him to leave.  It didn't make any sense, I didn't know the old codger.  I just felt like maybe I'd missed out on something, something important that I was too inebriated to embrace.  I set the drink down and watched as the door closed behind the old man and his cat.

-------------------------

The old man had stood outside the bar window for at least ten minutes before going in.  He had thought that maybe, just maybe, he'd finally found the one he sought.  "Well, if we're going to do this, then let's do this."

A half hour later he stepped out of the bar and headed off in to the night, smiling.

"The seed has been planted, Penelope.  Let's just hope it has enough time to grow."

Exercise 2 - Really?

Exercise 2: Second Draft - Tried for a slightly different ending tone.  Trying to match her expression a bit better.

Really?

Oh no they did not...

Hey!  HEEEEY!  I know you guys can hear me!  Why does my voice sound...aaaarrrgghh, I'm a woman!  Let me out of this simulation, right now.  RIGHT NOW!

Seriously guys? You think this is funny?  What is th--I'm old too!?  When I get out of here, I swear by all that is unholy, I will end you two!

Ok, Russell, just calm down and lets figure this out so we can get out of here.  Where in the world am I?  Somewhere in Europe...1920's maybe?  I guess I should have a look around and see if I can find the exit.

Thump.  Thump.

What in the name of--my leg is a stump?


...Really?

My First Scribophile Critique

Last night I gave someone my very first critique.  http://www.scribophile.com/authors/robert-vincent/works/the-sword-of-dreams/17654/#comment-117402

Since I'm not a master of style and grammar yet, most of my comments centered around clarity of the story, i.e. questions left unanswered or sentences that just didn't make sense.

Took at while, but it was a lot of fun.  They have a karma system on the site.  (incoming wall of 'critique's).  You can't post work to be critiqued until you've critiqued others.  The longer their work the more karma it is worth to critique and the longer your critique the more karma it is worth.  Then if people 'like' your critique you can get even more karma.

You can then spend the karma to enter contests or to post your own work for critiquing.  Your work will be put in line to be spotlighted and is guaranteed to stay spotlighted until it has received at least 3 "long" reviews.

Exercise 1 - Freckles

Excercise # 1 - Second Draft - Focused on getting the first paragraph into the same narrative style as the rest.  As well as less repetition when describing Freckles.

Freckles

There's an old shack sitting alone in the middle of the woods.  It isn't exactly run down, but it's not the lap of luxury either.  It's an older building, but not run down.  It was well cared for when it was still used. Long planks that reach from the foundation to the roof serve for siding and tin sheets cover the roof.  There's a window just under the point of the roof so there's probably a loft or storage of some sort.  Some sort of sign hangs from the loft window, but any writing is long since weathered away.  The doorway underneath the loft window--from this angle at least--appears to be without a door.  The only other visible windows--two of them--are rather plain, with simple white frames around the six smaller panes that made up each one.

There is no direct path to the doorway, instead there are two planks spanning a five foot gap that surrounds the entire structure, exposing a foundation about five feet high that looks to be covered in tin sheets, with a small drain just underneath the entryway.  The tin shows signs of years of use, hard water and rust cover most of the surface.

Inside is nothing but an inch of dust coating everything, a lone ladder leading up to the loft above, and single set of footprints leading toward the loft.  With the door indeed missing, there is much more wear on the inside than would normally be expected.  The walls are plain wood, no wallpaper or paint.  There is no entrance to a basement, at least nothing plainly visible.  Up the ladder is more dust coating everything and a lone figure crouched hidden in a dark corner.  It's clear that the person here is the first one to have been here for a very long time.

The figure peeks out the loft window for several long minutes before getting up.  They brush the dirt off and head down the ladder and out the front door looking around carefully.  The girl is very young, no more than twelve or thirteen.  She eases out on to the planks spanning the gap around the structure glancing anxiously in every direction.  Her face is thin and heavily freckled on the cheekbones set above cheeks that are slightly gaunt, but not sickly.  Thin lips are currently pulled tight in worry.  Bright emerald green eyes contrast sharply against her bright red shoulder length hair--it has clearly been a while since she's had a chance to comb it out. Still, she is very pretty even if a little wild looking.  Blue denim overalls drape loosely over her small frame hanging from her skinny shoulders.  The straps have been tied together by a bit of string, to keep them from falling off.  She's wearing a green t-shirt with wrist length sleeves and a narrow neck.  Her shoes, more like boots, are made of a sturdy leather material, most likely suited to a lot of foot travel through hard terrain.  Overall it looks as though her clothes are a little worn but not ragged, she could have just been lost in the woods for a day exploring. 

Apparently satisfied that she is alone, she runs off in to the woods, surprisingly quiet while passing through the undergrowth.

Hopefully this is at least somewhat what you saw.

Scribophile

I've found a great online writer's group called Scribophile.  If you like writing and want to improve, check it out!

My new profile there: Profile!!

Exercise - February 15 2012 - Troll Sole

Current Exercise for 2-15-2012

"What can you learn from feet? If you're interested in character (or even in plotting), it could be a lot.

Either do a real life observation, or (if you're already engaged in a long prose narrative project like a novel or a memoir), remember or imagine that you or your main character or someone else is looking at some feet. This might be in a waiting room, or from the perspective of being tied up and gagged on the floor, or working a shoe salesperson. Think up a situation where someone is observing feet, and describe them in detail, including shoes if appropriate, pants cuffs-- right up the ankle or a little above. Describe first, then speculate or look for clues.Where could this take you?"

My wife requested to hear more about Dak, so I'll probably do something from his perspective today. Here goes:

Exercise ??? - First Draft

Troll Sole

Slowly, the great blur that was Dak's vision began to coalesce in to something more definable. He could tell that he was very close to...something. He blinked his eyes a few times trying to clear his vision. After a few moments he could begin to make out more details of what he could now tell was a foot and a rather large one at that. He crinkled his nose as the smell of the foot wafted in. There was nothing particularly remarkable about this foot. The sole of the foot looked like a single giant callous. It seemed more like a piece of leather tacked on to the bottom of the foot than actual skin. It was pitted and cracked and was probably thick enough to take a nail without even being noticeable. The toes weren't much better. Gnarled and stunted, they looked more like chopped off roots of a tree than actual toes. The nails looked hard and brittle, probably housing more than a few strains of fungi in their time. The skin on top of the foot was hardly better. Deeply tanned and dry it was doubtful that this foot had ever in its life been in a shoe. Scars crisscrossed his feet, some of them old and barely noticeable and some that looked to have barely healed over. The skin became more grayish near the ankle and coarse hairs sprouted at all angles.

He didn't dare look up. A troll...just great. There was a sound of rummaging through a sack and he knew it was pointless to hope it wasn't his. He jumped slightly when the strangely shaped tin he'd found in the abandoned shop fell to the ground in his view and clattered around for a few seconds before coming to rest. His heart pounding and his mind racing he wondered how he was going to get out of this situation.