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  1. #1
    Lurker quillin24 is offline
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    piece of a story,

    piece of a story,

    This is a piece of a story that I need to go back to but I need some help finding a voice for my character.

    I always enjoyed that one song… shoot I can't remember the name of the singer right now, I'm sure it will come to me later. But the songs introductory lyrics are "Sunny came home to her favorite room. Sunny sat down in the kitchen." [find out what song and maybe year?] I almost always recall that phrase when entering my quaint domicile.

    As I go about the preparations for a large (and by large I mean one of those tea cups that people normally use for soup bowls) cup of tea. As teas go I'm not a coinsure by any means and so my collection of teas range from the mundane Lipton to the expensive loose leaf hibiscus that I am known for staining any and all clothes I wear while drinking this particular brew. As a teenager and young adult I had publicly drank tea on so many occasions that my friends and family kept me in WWIII preparatory style as far as the amount of tea I own [am given]. And no, it is not organized.

    It was at this unorganized mess that I glared squinty eyed and condescending, in the hopes that like an errant child it would feel guilty enough to start cleaning itself up. My mess did not head the steel in my gaze so I softened my features to an adorable pout that wouldn't create such ugly wrinkles in my later years. Still the mess lay there, slothful and unrepentant; indifferent to any faces that my be directed at it. Sigh…

    Its not that my household is dirty or neglected. In fact I clean almost fanatically as far as my dishes go and keeping my ever shedding hair from blanketing my already thick carpet. I even dust by picking up each item from its place and wiping the surface beneath it with a cloth. And I've never left the house unattended for more that a long weekend once or twice. No, this shameful state of my abode is due to the fact that I collect too much stuff and I hate throwing things away.

    You see I'm and arts and crafts type of person and the plethora of projects that resided on every flat surface in my apartment was enough to make a kindergarten teacher weep. I knit and sew and glue and paint, and tape together many birthday/Christmas/I'm sorry your having a bad day gifts. I don't make any sort of living from this although I've thought about those Saturday markets many times. I guess my final thought on the matter is that if its for a deadline and not a matter of personal satisfactions I can't bring myself to do it.

    And this my friend, is why I am the QUEEN of procrastination. I wouldn't be surprised if I was born late considering that the rest of my life has been run as such. Its not like people didn't try their hardest to change this character trait. My father is always at least 15 minutes early to any event in his life. I went to the college preparatory boarding school that I hope will become a tradition in my family, and I am currently engaged to a man who thinks tardiness is a sin (at least he would if he believed in God).

    Anyways, with my steaming cup of tea (Moroccan mint this morning; a smooth blend that coats the throat and the senses like honey) I sat down in my favorite room, the kitchen ,and began to muse about my previous day and how it went, avoiding thoughts of today and what must be done . As I sifted through thoughts on yesterday and enjoyed my fragrant tea I began to feel overly warm from the sweater I wore and my herbal waters steam.

    I got up to open the window and happily noticed my best friend Cameron walking up the drive. Cameron and I share a duplex together, I have the left side per my weird habit of choosing things left sided to make up for all of the right- handed stuff and the world. Cameron walked delicately up the three stairs to her side of the duplex where she loudly greeted her adoring husband before banging through the screen door most likely going to cook up some wonderful lunch that I in all of my kindness would have to go over and sample.

    Our little duplex resides on a quaint little street not far from Balboa park here in beautiful San Diego, California. I cannot express to you the joy that I felt when Cammy had informed me that she had decided to move to California for a job that I don't totally comprehend; and had told me that I was welcome to come along for the adventure as long as I found a job quickly. (Not that its hard to find a job in my field its just that my best bud knows what a wonderful/horrible procrastinator I can be.)

    You see, I'm a high school English teacher. No its not what I originally wanted to do with my life, I just kind of fell into it while working in college and I found I could not tear myself away from these kids (and yes they are kids and no they should not be treated like adults). I feel that although my original plan had been to save the world and change our government as a social worker and politician I was still doing the same thing but to on a smaller scale. And that's really okay for now. Since I plan on living to be at least 100 I figure I have time to do plenty of things.

    This career also allowed me enough time to do something I really love and cannot stand being away from, which is caring for horses. I don't have the money or the space at the moment to own my own horse but every penny I earn from my secondary job as horse exerciser and stable hand at the Balboa Park Stone Stables is going into a savings account so that I can buy the horse of my dreams. Of course since I'm not five years old any more I realize that there is much more to save for than just the horse so although my savings is steadily increasing I will be unable to touch the stuff until I have a place to keep the horse enough to pay for fodder, tack, and veterinary charges for the first year.

    My fiancée and I had agreed to this when we moved in together and so he deals with my doodling horses all over his unimportant paper work and my smelling of horse manure and hay and all of those other lovely fragrances only a true horse person can love.

    Speaking of fragrances Cammy's lunch preparations were slowly seeping into my side of the duplex and my nose was sure that it smelled enough for three people. So I grabbed a nice bottle of white kosher wine (yes Cammy and her husband Stephan are both kosher) and proceeded out my front door with my cup of tea to the awaiting delectable smells with in.

    I am in every loving sort of way jealous of my best girlfriend. She is a gorgeous inside and out with a matching husband. She works in [scientific field] doing experiments that I hardly comprehend through my yawns of boredom. She is a wonderful cook and cleaner (her space is so lovely and clean, it feels as though her side of the duplex is twice as big as mine.) Her husband is a wonderful man who had some of his potential taken away in a car accident. He is a paraplegic. A testament to those who choose to drink and drive that their selfish actions DO hurt others. And despite this Stephen has no words of recrimination for that stupid guy. I do, but I won't waste time on that.

    I banged through the screen door and called out, "

  2. #2
    Count / Countess Tigers is offline Tigers's Avatar
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    Re: piece of a story,

    Re: piece of a story,

    Hey Quillin!

    What I've read so far is great, you have a really good start on fleshing out your character. Do you have a vision on where you are going with her? At least for me, it helps me envision how they communicate with others, how they respond to situations, etc.

    LOL- Then again, it's hard to say because then there are times I can't figure out where I'm going with a particular character so I just start writing to see what comes out, then modify or change as I go along.

    I'm not sure if I've helped any. Sometimes I think it's trial and error, you just have to forge ahead and go with what your gut tells you is right and fits the personality of the character you're writing.
    Peace is a lie
    There is only passion
    Through passion I gain strength
    Through strength I gain power
    Through power I gain victory
    Through victory my chains are broken
    The Force shall set me free

  3. #3
    Lurker quillin24 is offline
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    Re: piece of a story,

    Re: piece of a story,

    thank you that is helpful advice, I'm just concerned that sometimes I let too much of myself seep into the actions and choices of the characters I write and if I continue like that I'll never have much that is interesting to write, I wish I could have an instant filter, like a lens on a camera, but no, thinking is neccesary at this stage. thanx again, I'll send you some more later.

  4. #4
    Count / Countess Tigers is offline Tigers's Avatar
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    Re: piece of a story,

    Re: piece of a story,

    I look forward to reading more. Just to give you some encouragement, don't be afraid to write a little bit of your personality into a character. Personally I can tell you that each of my characters contains a little bit of both the good and bad parts of my personality. I think you'll be fine though, you recognize that fact and you can change the response accordingly. We're our own worse critics sometimes, but I think you'll find that somethings just feel better written one way or another. Just remember to have fun.

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