Writer's Sketch 6: Agent from the Black Lagoon

“Change it all!” the creature, hunched over a towering pile of papers, shouted. Beneath the desk, my knees clicked together as I accepted my red-blotched manuscript. The wheezing breath timed my flipping as I surveyed the damage. Pages-upon-pages with the dreaded red ‘X’, others trailed with a patchwork of corrections.

Swallowing the bullet of air lodged in my throat, I decided, against my better judgment, to protest. “I have to keep these scenes,” I said sheepishly, prodding the page in question. The depths of darkness further disguised the creature in a swath of shadows. It inched its bony elbows across the desk, and lowered a burning glare to eye-level. An urgent, overwhelming need for my mother crept into my frazzled thoughts. I did my best to return the intense eye-contact to no avail. My eyes watered and my lids did all they could to shield me from the searing disapproval.  

“Re-write everything,” was the command. One might say it leaked from the creature in the form of a whisper, but in actuality, it was uttered from the corner of its mouth and strangled the air as it drifted to my ears. I began running my fingernails over my teeth. The slightest nibble pacified my shaking if only for a moment. “I noticed,” I began gingerly. “You cut this character entirely.”

A plume of smoke danced past my eyes. Could it have been from a cigarette? Not likely. It had been emitted from the creature’s incredulous snort. “Waste of ink. Not funny,” it replied. I wrung my hands together until the cracking bones snapped me back into reality. My fidgeting feet slipped. The stone tile beneath my feet had been polished by my shoe-soles into glass. One last pluck of courage bubbled through my system. “Did you like any of it?”

The echoes of cackling began in the pit of the creature’s stomach. Its amoeba-like shadow shifted with mirth. A snicker traveled up its throat until the burst of laughter crossed its lips; the creature rocked in its chair, reveling in hysteria.

Back to the drawing board.

Writer’s Sketch 5: Owners Away, Pets Will Play

The outside becomes exposed for a brief moment, its sweet, clean air enticing my nose. But as soon as wafting scents of animals and summer grass flood my senses, the door closes behind my owners and the lock clicks shut.  Finally, the house belongs to me. But what to do? Last time they left it was only a short time. And they returned without anything for me! It’s just as well, I suppose. I did tear apart their window blankets. That was fun! Shreds of scarlet silk everywhere. They littered the floor like the crinklies the young owners throw around when the smelly tree is brought inside.

Time for fun! I turn on my paws, scurry up the stairs with my tail perked and skid into the meal room. Casually, I lick my paw and observe the quiet space. Meow? Just checking no one is home. Sometimes the young owners sneak up on me. Grab my tail; hiss at me. It’s awful. I want to avoid that at all costs if I’m to grace the forbidden counter. My ears don’t register any significant noises. Just a dripping faucet in the owner’s litter room. In a single leap I’ve landed on the slippery counter-top.  It reeks of an itchy smell that makes me sneeze.

That’s when I spot it. The strange jar that looks like me. It’s where the snacks are kept. Scrumptious treats of chewy meat, crunchy nibblets filled with pate, and even my favorite, fishy flakes. I nuzzle the top to pry the jar open but it’s no use. Rubbing against it won’t work either. No, the me jar must break to be opened. Gently pressing my forehead against the ceramic container, I inch it closer to the edge before it tumbles over the side. My pads brace my startled body atop the counter. It was so loud! Pieces of the me jar have scattered across the vinyl floor, and so did its contents.

Success! Delicious treats all for me! I devour the snacks as if I won’t ever be fed again. It’s not that I’m hungry; I just know when the owners return they will be mad. And I may not get treats for some time. Maybe this wasn’t a good plan? At this point it doesn’t matter, I’ve achieved my goal. The delectable flavors of meat melt in my mouth as I chomp the nuggets into pieces. A metal jingle rings in my ears. The door. They returned! My claws grasp the hardwood, scraping as I flee down the hallway to the lowest room. A hop, a jump and I'm tucked away where no one will find me.

Writer’s Sketch 4: Action

For the expression map, I focused on portraying realistic emotions. An important practice to hone your ability to write expressions realistically is in observing how real people react— the same fact remains true for writing action.

Coming from the experience of writing a heavily action-based series (think: Lord of the Rings), it can be as stimulating to the imagination as it can drain all of your creativity. And to be completely honest, I am glad my future plots do not rely as strongly on extensive action scenes. But a story without action is nothing more than a postcard. A still picture lacking movement. If you want your narrative to be successful, engaging the reader in moments or scenes of action is vital.

The conflict is always set up before any action comes to pass. And action does not need to be a war or fist fight. They can be an argument or evading capture. Even something as simple as a daily routine is an action. For the purposes of this exercise however, I’ll be focusing on heavy action scenes (aka- combat).

Sure, watching human interactions is one option for the study of action, but I find films to be a better decision. Not only can you pause a film (something you cannot do with real life) but you can note the directional cues for showing the specific action. Directors are like visual writers, they have to determine the best manner of portrayal for every situation. Does the light illuminate or obscure the scene? Is the view from the character or an external shot? Does the event take place quickly or frame-by-frame? 

Let’s review the Neo vs. Mr. Smith fight scene from The Matrix. Before they begin to toss punches, the subway is scanned over. It’s vacant. It’s dusty. There’s a tumbling newspaper. Neo has an escape route, but he chooses to stand against the agent. As they fight the perspective changes between Neo and Mr. Smith as well as external shots. Some actions are highlighted while others pass by without further detail. Sure, the atmosphere is tense and the physical exchange is riveting, but you can only learn so much from observation.

When you have chosen a scene to review, watch it several times. Pause to note the intricacies of how it is represented. To sketch an action for practice, use words to describe the same conflict and see how realistic it reads. Sounds simple enough, right? It’s more challenging than you think. After you have executed this sketch several times over, being able to describe your own imagined action will be second nature.

Writing Sketch 3: Fidel Castro, Beijing, Yo-Yos.

Running a fine-toothed comb through his beard, Fidel smoothed out the smog knots that clung tightly to his hair. If only he hadn’t visited Beijing. What a terrible waste of a weekend, Fidel thought coldly. He recalled the city’s buildings poking above the clouds like the eyes of a hungry Cayman staring down its prey. Disgusting.

He sat irritated in the newly reupholstered leather chair that tucked beneath the awning of his stately mahogany desk. With a few squeaks he inched the chair closer to feel more at ease in his solitary office. Perhaps that was when tranquility should overcome him, but instead Fidel felt an itch. Stretching across the matted top, he reached a calloused hand for the specialty box of Cuban’s that lingered just beyond his finger tips.

A dense, musky smell taunted him as its phantom scent tickled Fidel’s nose. As the perfume seeped into his nostrils and blanketed his tongue with the heavy taste of unbridled pleasure, his craving intensified and he required immediate access to his cigars. Kicking back his chair, he found it blockaded by a pesky floorboard. He was stuck, imprisoned from gratification. “What luck”, he grumbled.   

But, alas! The Yo-Yo from Beijing! Rustling a hand deep into his pocket, Fidel retrieved the meager souvenir. A bright sheen came over the polished wood as Fidel jostled it in the light. His skills were amateur at best, but a proper throw would result in the repossession of his beloved Cubans. Cocking his arm back like a gun hammer and preparing the yo-yo as a bullet, Fidel let off a shot that swung parallel to his desk. The novelty kicked back with a fury, grazing the cigar box and bouncing aloft before squaring Fidel in the jaw. If only he hadn’t visited Beijing.

Writing Sketch 2: Justin Timberlake, Mississippi and the Tennis Ball

This is another 15 minute writing sketch using random topics:

The tour bus rolled into the parking lot at half-past dawn for the final concert event in Mississippi. Justin Timberlake was awoken by a glint of sun ripping through the blinds in his mobile bedroom. He had been waiting for this venue for weeks. The stage would take several hours to be raised and in the meantime, Justin was thrilled to be able to explore the great southern city of Jackson. Mapping out his daily plans, he expected a certain detailed route through the area to well calculated stops before returning to the stadium for rehearsal and ultimately the main event. However, this would not be the case.

Stepping into the cramped bathroom where the lingering smell of plastic clung to every surface, Justin scrunched his nose before preparing for the day ahead. Executing his morning routine, he brushed his teeth, shaved and took a shower. Upon exiting the shower, the closet room had developed a moist film on the floor as well as a dense fog that clouded the area. Even through squinting, Justin was unable to decipher where he was in the bathroom.

Fumbling his hands around, he manages to snag the comforting cloth of his towel before bumping into the bathroom door. Distractedly, he rubbed his face, having not noticed the door swung open. He stumbled out into the thin hallway when suddenly his right foot stepped on a tennis ball. Teetering on the ball, his body shifted balance before tumbling head-first into the cabinet beside him. Justin hollered in pain as she crashed onto the floor. Echoes of the bouncing ball permeated his ears, taunting him to stand. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be going out today.

Writer’s Sketch: Expression Map

Another great tool in the writer’s arsenal is creating unique, consistent characters. In order to keep these people behaving time and again in the same manner, you should first work on their basic emotions. For this exercise, focus on practicing varied expressions that will arise when writing. By all means, use a character you are currently studying from a published or original text (perhaps even your warm-up story if it’s the same character), you don’t need to create one for this matter.

When describing the person’s changing reactions, be as descriptive as the expression requires. But you don’t want to focus on their every wrinkle either. Remember: People don't always (or only) smile when they are happy. Perhaps your character has a glum outlook and refuses to smile—this must also be taken into account. Fill out the following for a quick warm-up exercise to your writing time period.

I’ll use a character that most people are familiar with so you can notice the subtle changes: Mickey Mouse.

Happy: Thumbing his suspenders, Mickey snickered a bubbly laugh and graciously received Donald’s birthday gift.

Sad: With his ears downcast, the cement sidewalk held Mickey’s attention, its monochromatic pattern reflecting the weight in his stomach.

 

Angry: Mickey furrowed his brow and nose together, sternly scolding his pup after discovering Pluto’s jowls covered in a ruby glaze from the missing cherry pie.

Scared: He gasped loudly and his hands shot upwards to cover his mouth before he lost his balance and stumbled backwards.

Surprised: Despite the flutter of his heart, Mickey beamed regretfully to erase the fright on his face before apologizing to the pedestrian he bumped into.

Flirtatious: Nudging his shoulder against Minnie’s, Mickey’s smirk curled playfully as he giggled.

Reviewing the above expressions you can see how a minute alteration in description or diction can paint the emotion clearly and concisely. Throughout his sketch Mickey adheres to his personality which would provide an excellent base for any story starring the famous mouse to grow from.

Since this is a short exercise, feel free to add more emotions to your list and practice with increased frequency for a stronger gasp on your characters.  

Writer’s Sketch: James, New Mexico, Watermelon

To begin this exercise, you should seclude yourself from distractions. Secondly, you will need a person, a place and an object. Don’t come up with them yourself-- use a friend or family member to provide the subjects of your freewrite. You could also use the “random” feature on Wikipedia, or “I’m feeling lucky” on Google. Try your best to simply allow ideas to flow for fifteen minutes. Remember: No editing. Let’s begin.

It was a sweltering afternoon in New Mexico, the looming sun coating the desert in a crimson afterglow. James grumpily sat on his grandparent’s porch, observing the waning sunlight that passed over the scrub around the adobe dwelling. He was uncomfortable in his long-sleeves and could not locate a suitable position in the shade that adequately soothed him. It was just as well. He hated the oppressive heat, but it wasn’t his fault he was allergic to the sun. And visiting his grandparents was always an unfortunate week of suffering. After all, New Mexico was vastly different from Minnesota.

 Venturing indoors, James was meagerly comforted by the home’s natural ability to retain cold air. But he still believed his grandparents to be foolish for not purchasing an air conditioner. How could he sleep that night? It was the first of many and yet he could not recall how he managed to survive these visits so many years before. He passed through the hallway into the living room where he discovered his wrinkled relatives relaxing in front of an old analog television.

“Looks like you could use some watermelon,” declared his grandfather in a raspy voice.

James agreed, “That would be great.”

“Take a seat, dear,” said his grandmother. She was a kind and gentle woman, quilting an aboriginal style blanket. She pushed the plate of watermelon across the coffee table for James to adequately choose a slice. One of the larger pieces called out to him, its bright green rind and pink flesh a stark contrast to the monochromic tones of the desert home.

James didn’t hesitate to devour the fruit. Its sweetness dissolving a refreshing blast onto his taste buds after each bite. A trickle of water collected at the sides of James’ mouth and dripped off at the tip of his chin onto the perfectly white carpet. The disapproving stare he received from his elders was firm and harsh, but the small mishap seemed a minor consolation to James who still had six days (with change) left on his arid visit.

/ Sure, it’s not the best story I could write with these subjects, but for a fifteen minute freewrite to get my creative juices flowing, it’s not half bad. Although I’ll be doing a collection of writer’s sketches, I would encourage writers to complete this exercise at least once a day. Just like visual artists warm-up with these types of drawing activities, aspiring writers can use this technique to hone their skills as well.

Starving Artist: How to Improve Your Writing

I love art. When you read the word “art”, I’m sure your brain triggers thoughts of painting, and sculpture, perhaps a trip to a museum. I don’t believe art is that exclusive. Art can be a masterfully written essay, a heartfelt song, a beautiful bedtime story as well as the aforementioned painting, sculptures and the like. Being an artist of the written word, I have a great appreciation for fellow artists no matter their trade.

Something I have always regretted is not expanding my knowledge and abilities in the arts. I wish I had learned to play an instrument. I wish I could paint the sunset.  However, there is something these varieties of art participate in that I believe my specialty can benefit from borrowing. Musicians improve their understanding of tone and melodies by practicing, some of the best practice every day. Visual artists often hone their skills with daily sketches. Writers need to adopt this discipline.

Writing a memoir, fictional story or recount of history (among others) cannot be accomplished overnight. It can’t be finished in a week. It is undoubtedly the art with the longest investment in the completion of a single task. For some writers, like myself, the prized project could take years, a decade even. So how do you improve your wordsmith abilities? Even writing a short story or piece of poetry could wrap you into another assignment. Taking a page out of the musicians and visual artists’ playbook, I propose writers practice their skills with fifteen to thirty minute vignettes.

From now on, the majority of my writing specific posts will entertain this desire. Using a random list of objects, people and places I will write a piece for the allotted time in a free-flowing manner, neglecting my usual craving to edit. This sort of practice is something I suggest for all writers. I hope at over time for this drill to become a daily staple and something writers can share with each other.