September Challenge
I did the September Challenge at Forward Motion tonight. It is to take one of the gymn prompts and write at least 500 words.
Here's the one I chose
Zette's Gymn Challenge:
A STRANGER'S FACE...
Choose a face, anyone's face, - someone in a crowded mall, an actor on television, even a picture in a magazine - and study it as well as you can in a single glance. Now, keep the image in mind and create a character around that face. Try to understand how the physical traits and personality might work together. Loo for the reasons behind the expression. Did the person seem confidant? Nervous? Worried? Were they driven by anger or joy? Whatever the impression you drew in your brief study, bring it to life on the page.
I thought this would be easy, but it was really hard to write 500 words just about a face. I ended up fudging a little bit by bringing in clothing and body language. I actually wrote more like 1,000 because I first wrote the male MC of Seeing Red as the female MC sees him, then I reversed it.
Lily:
He sat directly across from her in the long line of parallel chairs bolted to the floor of the concourse. He had a newspaper in his hand, but Lily had yet to see him open it. Instead he drummed his fingers on the armrest. After a while she saw him reach into his breast pocket and pull out of piece of gum. The fingers that popped the gum into his mouth had a slight yellow cast that marked him as a smoker, but his teeth were white and straight. She wondered if that bespoke of simply an attention to hygiene or vanity. His red hair was the color of cinnamon and the cut was expensive in spite of the fact that it dearly needed a comb. He thinks it gives him an air of devil-may-care. In fact it makes him look vulnerable, like a little boy. The hair stood in fiery contrast to his skin, pale in spite of a dusting of freckles.
She decided that he cared about his appearance only so far as to present a professional front.
He had green eyes. A light green, frosty, like a Coke bottle. But there were crinkles at the corners of his eyes, speaking of maturity and depth. Crinkles that said he had been give, once upon a time, to smiling. It's written there. There was kindness in his eyes, but anger in the deep furrows on either side of his small mouth. But his lips aren't thin, thought Lily. That's a good sign.
He had a firm jaw that jutted out a little bit. Stubborn, like someone who would have a hard time saying sorry. His broad, short nose was sharp. To Lily that meant he relied on his instincts. Maybe cunning more than intelligent. But then she went bac to those green eyes. No they had intelligence. He was no fool.
A scar slashed across his bottom lip, another split his left eyebrow. It said he was not afraid of a fight. But that kindness in his eyes, it said he'd have to be pushed.
His expression was sardonic, a hint of a cynical smile played about his lips. He's got a sense of humor, but life has made it bitter rather than sweet. The humor gets him through, though, even if it is gallows humor.
He had good posture. Straight shoulders and back, but he looked tired and anxious in the way his shoulders were drawn up. He looked fit, but with the long, lanky build of a runner or a swimmer. And he looked tightly wound, like someone with a motor inside them, that would need to burn excess energy or pop. But he had it under control, the kind of control that came with maturity and force of will.
Neil:
She sat directly across from him in the long line of parallel chairs bolted to the floor of the concourse.
She was biting her lip and kept looking at her boarding pass. All the earmarks of a first time traveller. God, she's probably afraid of flying. I feel sorry for whoever has to sit next to her. It'll probably be nothing but mindless chatter and unending complaints as she tries to keep herself occupied rather than think about a tin can thousands of feet up in the air.
She had red hair. Brighter than his own it was the russet of maple leaves in autumn and fell just to her shoulders in what his mother would call a flip. The style matched her clothing. The powder blue sweater set said conservative, while the comfortably worn jeans were the look of someone who had a sense of fun. Adventure. But his eyes drifted back to the small white hand clutching the boarding pass and he ammened that. She was someone who wanted to have a sense of adventure but wasn't quite there yet.
She had pale skin, with small freckles just on her nose. His mother had called them angel kisses when he was small. A small locket nestled on her chest, just below the base of her throat, drawing attention to the graceful curve of her neck and the delicacy of her bones. She wasn't petite. He gauged her height at about five and a half feet, but her frame was small, her bones were small. Her eyes were the dark green of a sprig of ivy, heavy lidded with dark lashes. Her straight, small nose and pointy chin didn't impress him either. Sullen, I'll bet. A snob. That's the chin of a woman looking for a fight. And she'd bloody well win, too. But then the woman next to her offered her a newspaper and he had to completely reassess everything he'd thought up to that point.
She smiled. And in an instant she transformed from a bland, somewhat attractive middle class American into a...well, he didn't have the words. But her face lit up with an inner light that was as pure as it was radiant. All because of a crooked smile, with dimples at the corners. It was the smile of a woman you wanted to kiss, wanted to talk to, wanted to sing with off key. It was the kind of smile a man would give anything to be the cause of, anything to be the beneficiary of. In her crooked smile he could read the reality beyond the sweater set and the white fingers. She was a woman who didn't do anything by half. And it was all there, her heart, her soul, her mind, all in her crooked, dimpled smile. It was the kind of smile that would make a lesser man fall in love. It was a smile that he planned to stay away from in no uncertain terms.
He shook his paper out and tried to read, but the words all blended together. All he could think of was a crooked smile and dimples.
Yeah, I know, it turned out so fluffy! I need to just embrace my inner fluffiness. I was surprised, though. I didn't know Neil was so sentimental.
:
Here's the one I chose
Zette's Gymn Challenge:
A STRANGER'S FACE...
Choose a face, anyone's face, - someone in a crowded mall, an actor on television, even a picture in a magazine - and study it as well as you can in a single glance. Now, keep the image in mind and create a character around that face. Try to understand how the physical traits and personality might work together. Loo for the reasons behind the expression. Did the person seem confidant? Nervous? Worried? Were they driven by anger or joy? Whatever the impression you drew in your brief study, bring it to life on the page.
I thought this would be easy, but it was really hard to write 500 words just about a face. I ended up fudging a little bit by bringing in clothing and body language. I actually wrote more like 1,000 because I first wrote the male MC of Seeing Red as the female MC sees him, then I reversed it.
Lily:
He sat directly across from her in the long line of parallel chairs bolted to the floor of the concourse. He had a newspaper in his hand, but Lily had yet to see him open it. Instead he drummed his fingers on the armrest. After a while she saw him reach into his breast pocket and pull out of piece of gum. The fingers that popped the gum into his mouth had a slight yellow cast that marked him as a smoker, but his teeth were white and straight. She wondered if that bespoke of simply an attention to hygiene or vanity. His red hair was the color of cinnamon and the cut was expensive in spite of the fact that it dearly needed a comb. He thinks it gives him an air of devil-may-care. In fact it makes him look vulnerable, like a little boy. The hair stood in fiery contrast to his skin, pale in spite of a dusting of freckles.
She decided that he cared about his appearance only so far as to present a professional front.
He had green eyes. A light green, frosty, like a Coke bottle. But there were crinkles at the corners of his eyes, speaking of maturity and depth. Crinkles that said he had been give, once upon a time, to smiling. It's written there. There was kindness in his eyes, but anger in the deep furrows on either side of his small mouth. But his lips aren't thin, thought Lily. That's a good sign.
He had a firm jaw that jutted out a little bit. Stubborn, like someone who would have a hard time saying sorry. His broad, short nose was sharp. To Lily that meant he relied on his instincts. Maybe cunning more than intelligent. But then she went bac to those green eyes. No they had intelligence. He was no fool.
A scar slashed across his bottom lip, another split his left eyebrow. It said he was not afraid of a fight. But that kindness in his eyes, it said he'd have to be pushed.
His expression was sardonic, a hint of a cynical smile played about his lips. He's got a sense of humor, but life has made it bitter rather than sweet. The humor gets him through, though, even if it is gallows humor.
He had good posture. Straight shoulders and back, but he looked tired and anxious in the way his shoulders were drawn up. He looked fit, but with the long, lanky build of a runner or a swimmer. And he looked tightly wound, like someone with a motor inside them, that would need to burn excess energy or pop. But he had it under control, the kind of control that came with maturity and force of will.
Neil:
She sat directly across from him in the long line of parallel chairs bolted to the floor of the concourse.
She was biting her lip and kept looking at her boarding pass. All the earmarks of a first time traveller. God, she's probably afraid of flying. I feel sorry for whoever has to sit next to her. It'll probably be nothing but mindless chatter and unending complaints as she tries to keep herself occupied rather than think about a tin can thousands of feet up in the air.
She had red hair. Brighter than his own it was the russet of maple leaves in autumn and fell just to her shoulders in what his mother would call a flip. The style matched her clothing. The powder blue sweater set said conservative, while the comfortably worn jeans were the look of someone who had a sense of fun. Adventure. But his eyes drifted back to the small white hand clutching the boarding pass and he ammened that. She was someone who wanted to have a sense of adventure but wasn't quite there yet.
She had pale skin, with small freckles just on her nose. His mother had called them angel kisses when he was small. A small locket nestled on her chest, just below the base of her throat, drawing attention to the graceful curve of her neck and the delicacy of her bones. She wasn't petite. He gauged her height at about five and a half feet, but her frame was small, her bones were small. Her eyes were the dark green of a sprig of ivy, heavy lidded with dark lashes. Her straight, small nose and pointy chin didn't impress him either. Sullen, I'll bet. A snob. That's the chin of a woman looking for a fight. And she'd bloody well win, too. But then the woman next to her offered her a newspaper and he had to completely reassess everything he'd thought up to that point.
She smiled. And in an instant she transformed from a bland, somewhat attractive middle class American into a...well, he didn't have the words. But her face lit up with an inner light that was as pure as it was radiant. All because of a crooked smile, with dimples at the corners. It was the smile of a woman you wanted to kiss, wanted to talk to, wanted to sing with off key. It was the kind of smile a man would give anything to be the cause of, anything to be the beneficiary of. In her crooked smile he could read the reality beyond the sweater set and the white fingers. She was a woman who didn't do anything by half. And it was all there, her heart, her soul, her mind, all in her crooked, dimpled smile. It was the kind of smile that would make a lesser man fall in love. It was a smile that he planned to stay away from in no uncertain terms.
He shook his paper out and tried to read, but the words all blended together. All he could think of was a crooked smile and dimples.
Yeah, I know, it turned out so fluffy! I need to just embrace my inner fluffiness. I was surprised, though. I didn't know Neil was so sentimental.
: