Anyway, on to the post at hand. We're nearing the end of Steering the Craft. Four more exercises to go then we'll have one complete run-through posted on this blog. Finished this one last week so I might as well post it for interested readers.
Exercise 9 Part 2: Being the Stranger
[Directions]
Write a narrative of 200-600 words, a scene involving at
least two people and some kind of action or event.
Use a single viewpoint character, either in first person or limited third person, who is involved in the event. Give us the character’s thoughts and feelings in their own words.
The viewpoint character (real or invented) is to be somebody
you dislike, or disapprove of, or hate, or feel to be extremely different from
yourself.
The situation might be a quarrel between neighbors, or a
relative’s visit, or somebody acting weird at the checkout counter – whatever
will show the viewpoint character being who they are, doing what they do.
[Notes and Draft ]
Not sure how successful on being the stranger this exercise was - it was
a bit difficult to choose a viewpoint as I feel like a lot of my
characters are strangers in some respect. Still, he does approach a
problem differently than I would I suppose.
I wrote a first draft that went into some backstory and went over the word limit, so I decided to be more strict with myself and wrote a new focus/situation for the character I chose for this exercise, which can be found below labeled as Draft Two. That sort've quick dump of a draft does seem to churn out something better overall, though I sometimes get confused about what I should keep. Those older drafts are always lingering, staring in from the hazy windows, jingling the door, wanting to share a cup.
I wrote a first draft that went into some backstory and went over the word limit, so I decided to be more strict with myself and wrote a new focus/situation for the character I chose for this exercise, which can be found below labeled as Draft Two. That sort've quick dump of a draft does seem to churn out something better overall, though I sometimes get confused about what I should keep. Those older drafts are always lingering, staring in from the hazy windows, jingling the door, wanting to share a cup.
Draft Two of Exercise 9, Part 2: Being the Stranger
Mayor Habendale bared his teeth. The grubby man on the
street raised his hands in defense and repeated his denial of knowledge
regarding the disappearance of Mrs. Habendale.
The mayor socked him a good one in the face. He was sick of
these scum leeching off his city lying to his face. A fist might teach them to
man up.
And, in fact, it did. The grubby man spit blood as soldiers
forced the man’s hands behind his back and applied manacles. After his
struggles to stand failed and left him with a side of his face shoved into the
mud, he gave in and admitted he might know something of use. About time. The
lot of these liars and thieves would have to be well-beaten before they could
be of use in his new army.
He stood over the man and gave him a boot to the stomach.
“You lying to me, son of a bitch?”
“No… sir, no… honest, the lady…”
The man’s choked words were cut off by another boot to the
chest that caused him to groan in pain.
“No mere lady, scum. Your mayor’s beautiful wife Rikala
Habendale. Soldiers, stand him up. You have an opportunity here to be more than
a rat, to perhaps be human again. You tell me the truth, you help lead me to my
wife, then, I’ll allow you to join my army, and I suppose that would mean you
get to keep living.”
And the rat revealed a lead that gave the mayor a renewed
sense of hope. He mistrusted hope. To keep it in check, he wrapped a hand
around the rat’s throat and gave him a predatory stare. The man quivered in his
grasp and tried unsuccessfully to choke out a few words. Mayor Habendale just
nodded in confirmation. Choke, rat. Go on now.
He left the man with the guards for now and continued
onward.
The lead suggested a gang had taken her into the sewers and
then somewhere beyond, to a hideout perhaps. He would have the rat lead him to
the sewer entrance he saw used, and perhaps forgive him his sour qualities at
that point. He could use bodies to train if this lead did indeed link up with
rumors of the nation of Raznide plotting against Habendale’s lands and those
neighboring his own, if indeed war was a necessity.
Of course, this was all pure conjecture at this point.
Everything thus far might be not but hearsay and untruths.
After more cleaning and gathering of street folk, all of
whom agreed to join the volunteer army, he had the dirty, cowering man bring
him to the sewers. He assured the mayor that this was where he had seen two
brawny men dragging a fair lady, yes, Mrs. Habendale herself, he claimed he had
realized when a flash of lamplight had crossed her face for a moment. Well,
they would see if there was any truth to it. Lead on, he prodded the man. He
hesitantly lifted the sewer grate, but with another prodding, down he went.
Mayor Habendale grimaced, motioned for three guards to enter then swiftly
followed after them, down into the murky stink.