EXERCISE Controlling Objects and its Influence on a Scene

Discussion in 'REFINING WRITING' started by Diana, May 20, 2013.

  1. In a roleplay or story, a character must often interact with the objects in a scene. Picking up and reading a book. Opening a complicated safe. Shooting a gun. Swinging a weapon. Flipping a table. Cooking a dinner. Fidgeting with coins in their pocket.

    These simple actions help convey the scene, set the atmosphere, reveal details about the character and plot, while they carry the reader through your story. Here are some examples!

    - A display of nervousness by constantly fidgeting with items on a table.
    - A show of anger by throwing things or slamming doors.
    - A hint of sadness by holding objects in a certain way.
    - Showing affection through the caressing or gentle care of certain objects.
    - A display of action and quick pacing through the use of weapons.
    - Hinting at fear by the frenzied movement of hiding objects.
    - The calm relaxed motions of reading through a book.
    - The slow methodical investigation of things, showing contemplation and thoughtfulness.

    In this exercise you are going tell a story ONLY through a character's interaction with objects.

    No dialogue allowed.

    No thought bubbles or expression of what the character is thinking.

    You may only describe what the character is doing and how they are interacting with everything that is in the scene with them.
  2. ((Wow this is a hard one <3 ))

    Lithe hands held the sky blue coffee cup, stirring the warm tea with delicate precises movements. Index and middle finger held the spoon while the other two finders splayed gently away. He brought the cup to his lips and sipped it softly before placing it on the saucer before him. Situating it till it was center. Slate blue eyes darted to the clock, noting it was shifted a few centimeters from being centered. The lanky man stood and walked to the clock, fidgeting with the braided hemp bracelet on his wrist as he made his way. It took him longer than it should have to push the clock centered again.

    His eyes looked once more to the time, looking again to the coffee machine before him. Pressing a single button to display the time. He sighed and fidgeted once more with his bracelet, pacing back to the stool where he previously sat. He paused as he took note of a few grands of sugar on the floor. Glancing at the clock once more before he moved to the corner where he kept the hand held sweeper. He moved to vacuum the grands of sugar from under the stool. Looking at the time once more he glance around the floor. He gave a shrug then began to vacuum the rest of the spotless floor.
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  3. The wine glass smashed into the wall with a loud crash, its shattered bits landing in the pile of similarly broken pieces on the floor. Hands clenched the table she was leaning on, knuckles turning white. It was a cheap table, with metal legs and black cloth covering fragile particle board. Then she twisted her hands and added that to the pile, too, throwing the table the same way she had thrown the glass. She walked over to the thing, forcing a foot through the table's top, then breaking into pieces. Pulling one of the table's legs from the pile, she gripped it securely in both hands and looked around the room.

    She strode quickly over to the counter, aiming for the as-yet untouched kitchen cabinets. The shelves broke into pieces, the remaining dishes breaking under her improvised bludgeon or falling to the floor and breaking anyway. Then she dropped the table leg, using her bare strength and ripping the cabinet doors from their rusty hinges. She threw them, one by one, at the pile of smashed objects on the floor. She reached for the table leg, only to find that it was twisted and bent from her abuse. So, instead of breaking the chairs that way, she turned each onto their sides. Well-placed kicks broke each of the wooden legs off, then she roughly shoved a fist though the backing. The drawers were all swiftly pulled out, their contents thrown across the room. Knives, forks, spoons, pans, and lids added to the ever growing mess. She reached down, then retrieved a large steak knife. Making her way into the living room, she saw something.

    A picture frame, with the picture still inside, sitting on the coffee table. The knife dropped from her numb hand, and she carefully picked the frame up. Bloody fingers caressed it tenderly, gently stroking the glass as if reaching into the picture inside. After a few seconds, those same fingers clenched around the frame until their knuckles turned white and threw it at the wall with incredible force.

    The woman reached down, retrieved the knife, and turned toward the rest of the living room.

    (( WHOO first writing challenge/roleplay exercise thing! ))
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  4. Lyth watched as the lights slowly started to dim from the windows, leaving one room lit by candle light. A small flicker of warmth in the all consuming night. A puff of white left his lips in a sigh, his footsteps quiet against the stone streets. Out of a pocket came a roll of packing tape, the blonde man quickly going to work on the basement window. One strip, two strips, on and one, methodically covering the front the window. It was sloppy work, the strips criss crossing, layer upon layer. Taking a moment to inspect the work, Lyth bit the tape, breaking off the final strip, hiding the roll back into his pocket. Taking the end of his jacket sleeve in a gloved hand, he smashed his elbow into the window. There was a soft sound of clinking glass, a spiderweb of cracks crawling across the glass, the shattered pieces sticking to the layers and layers of tape. Rubbing against the edges of the tape, a corner furled up, allowing the man to pull the entire tape layer off, the glass coming with. With a perfect way into the home, Lyth clambered through the new hole as quiet as he could. There was a moment of silence, his hand moving into his other jacket pocket, procuring a gleaming blade. Weapon in hand, he began to make his way through the house, the blade twirling between his fingers.
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