One of the most trying parts of writing for me is getting the scenery in, & finding the right spot to describe a character. I'm so intent on the action of my characters, I forget to show my readers where they are or what they look like. I often have to make three and four edit passes to get everything the way it should be. (And then a few more for everything else, grin)
What I'm suggesting here is to have fun, painting the scene and describing the characters. I'll post dialog, and bones, and then we can take turns twisting it around with background and our own styles. These are new characters, I haven't snagged them from anything I'm working on.
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Ian Wares sat impatiently waiting for his wayward brother, Michael. It seemed to Ian he spent the better part of his life waiting on Michael. He was tapping his watch when Michael cruised into the room. "It's about time you showed."
He had a string of scathing words for his brother, but they died in his throat. Tossing his head, Ian spat, "Who's this?"
Michael's face spread into a wide grin. "This is Andrea. She's a part of this too. Though she's not any happier about than you seem to be."
Andrea scanned the room with a cool stare. It wasn't as seedy as she'd feared. Michael Wares was a thorn in her side. She didn't expect anything less from his older brother. "Gentlemen, I've got better things to do than stand around here with the two of you. Let's get down to business."
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Ian Wares sat impatiently waiting for his wayward brother, Michael. It seemed to Ian he spent the better part of his life waiting on Michael. He was tapping his watch when Michael cruised into the room. "It's about time you showed."
He had a string of scathing waiting words for his brother, but they died in his throat. Tossing his head, Ian spat, "Who's this?"
Michael's face spread into a wide grin. "This is Andrea. She's a part of this too. Though she's not any happier about it than you seem to be."
Andrea scanned the room with a cool stare. It wasn't as seedy as she'd feared. Michael Wares was a thorn in her side. She didn't expect anything less from his older brother. "Gentlemen, I've got better things to do than stand around here with the two of you. Let's get down to business."
Andrea looked around for a chair or other surface on which it might not be too dangerous to sit. The apartment was typical for a pair of bachelor brothers sharing the same living quarters. The scarred coffee table displayed what seemed to the requisite copies of Sports Illustrated and out-of-date TV Guides; the tattered Playboy was only half hidden by the empty pizza box. In the window, they'd piled empty beer cans into a pyramid. Why do all guys think that's 'art'?, she thought. Something white peeked from beneath the avocado sofa. Could be a discarded bath towel, could be Fruit of the Looms. She wasn't going to risk sitting anywhere near whatever it might be.
A glance from the living room into the kitchen showed the situation was no better there. Unwashed dishes peeked out of the sink, and the counter held at least six dirty glasses. Spotting the orange naugahyde chair, she decided to take a chance on it. To hell with what they think, she thought, as she hunted through her oversize bag for the package of wet wipes she always carried. She'd been in this situation before, and, in general, no one took offense. Pulling one free from the packet, she quickly wiped the seat and arms of the chair. The cloth snagged on the duct tape, which incompletely covered the torn spot along the front edge of the chair. She looked around for a place to dispose of the grimy cloth, then settled for tossing it into the pizza box. If she sat carefully on the very edge of the furniture, she might be able to walk away without too much gunk on the seat of her jeans.
Andrea spotted the chipped plastic ashtray on the TV tray that served as an end table on her left. "Do you boys mind…?" she asked, as she pulled a half-empty pack of Marlboros from her purse. Judging from the number of butts in the ashtray, she was pretty confident of their answer. Andrea located her pack of matches from the El Diablo restaurant, and lit her cigarette. The first wisp of smoke curled up, and joined the dust motes dancing in the light from the front window. The curtains weren't bad; a sort of murky blue, probably hung by the boys' mother when they'd first moved into the place.
After another deep drag on her cigarette, Andrea tossed back her long, brown hair and stared hard at the young men for a moment. "So, Ian, Michael tells me you think you have a screenplay I might be interested in reading. You have exactly thirty seconds to convince me why I'm not wasting my time and money here."
This was mine. It was fun.
The apartment description cracked me up.
I love both of your takes!
Of course, my Ian wouldn't have lived with Michael..but I suspect Michael's apt would look just like that. We seem to have similar takes on Andrea.
The poor cop with the vomit on his shoes. lol, nice
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Ian Wares sat impatiently waiting for his wayward brother, Michael. The Swinging Door wasn't normally the kind of place he'd be caught dead. It seemed to Ian he spent the better part of his life waiting on Michael. He was tapping his watch when Michael cruised into the room. "It's about time you showed."
His brother's boyish looks may have gotten him off the hook with their mother, but they were lost on Ian. Michael's blue eyes sparkled beneath his shaggy blonde bangs, irritating Ian even further. He had a string of scathing words for his brother, but they died in his throat. Tossing his head, Ian spat, "Who's this?"
Michael's face spread into a wide grin. "This is Andrea. She's a part of this too. Though she's not any happier about than you seem to be."
His brother had a genius for finding stunners, Ian had to give him that. Her golden blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders in loose curls. A pair of intellegent, green eyes peered at him over a pert little nose. She was well dressed, but not in a way which would make her stick out in the sports bar. Ian liked a person who knew the difference between quality and fashion. She was quality from her natural blonde hair to the perfect fit of her low cut jeans.
Andrea scanned the room with a cool stare. It wasn't as seedy as she'd feared. A long bar stretched the length of the narrow building with swiveling captain's chairs every few feet. It was as clean as one could expect from a male dominated bar.
She nodded her head at Ian and took the seat directly opposite him. Michael Wares was a thorn in her side. She didn't expect anything less from his older brother.
Ian wasn't disheveled like Michael usually was. His light brown hair was cropped short, and he was clean shaven. Ian's eyes were much lighter blue, and they were summing her up. She stiffened her spine and said, "Gentlemen, I've got better things to do than hang around here with the two of you. Let's get down to business."
If you enjoy this, there's another challenge going on right now, called Build a Plot
We've also already started writing the first chapter, based on the plot we built together.
If sci-fi is more your thing, we're also working on world building at
Balck Sqirrels from Space
Anyone is welcome to jump in and add to the story!
http://www.gather.com/viewArticle.jsp?articleId=281474977024860
Gremlins again.
Ian's desk was covered with files. No matter how fast he worked the cases they still piled up. He stared at them darkly.
Perhaps he should think about doing something else. His mom needed help at the bar. She was getting older. Solving murders for a living was screwing with his mental health.
Phones rang throughout the station, and the occasional shout could be heard from holding. The noise jangled his nerves. He reached for the styrofoam cup that contained his six cup of coffee. Okay, maybe it wasn't the noise working his nerves.
Ian Wares sat impatiently waiting for his wayward brother, Michael. It seemed to Ian he spent the better part of his life waiting on Michael. He was tapping his watch when Michael cruised into the room. "It's about time you showed."
Michael's dark blonde hair fell into his eyes as he put his hand in his back pockets. Michael worked vice, and he was dressed today for working vice. One would think he'd rolled out of a flophouse this morning by the scruffy beard and the torn Levis.
He had a string of scathing words for his brother, but they died in his throat. Tossing his head, Ian spat, "Who's this?"
The woman behind Michael captured the attention of every cop in the room, young and old. She wore Prada shoes with an expensive violet pantsuit. Her Coach bag dangled from her shoulder, and he'd put down good odds that she wore Victoria's Secret underneath everything. The woman was obviously high class, high maitenance.
Michael's face spread into a wide grin. "This is Andrea. She's a part of this too. Though she's not any happier about it than you seem to be."
Ian stared at his brother in shock."THE Andrea. The one with...", he said in disbelief."
"That's the one, Big brother.", he said.
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Andrea scanned the room with a cool stare. It wasn't as seedy as she'd feared. It appeared to be a new facility with comfortable tan chairs and some carpeting. She'd been expecting something more... Law and Order.
At that precise moment a scuffle errupted over by the automated doors. She looked to see one man being led in handcuffs by another in a cheap suit.
"Don't do it! Don't you do it!", the policeman in the suit said. He waggled a finger at his captive. His bald head reflected the horrid lighting boring down from the ceiling.
The prisoner retched, throwing up on the shoes of the man who led him by the arm.
The older policeman shouted, "Jesus, Ed! Get help man! These were new."
Andrea rolled her eyes at the scene. That was more what she'd expected.
Michael Wares was a thorn in her side. She didn't expect anything less from his older brother. "Gentlemen, I've got better things to do than stand around here with the two of you. Let's get down to business.", she said to the men before her.
She plopped her bag down on the floor next to the detective's desk. "I'm not going to help you, so this is a waste of my time." She sat. " And yours"
"Ms. Bologna..."
She interrupted. "It's pronounced as it's spelled Bo- Log- na, detective. My family is Polish."
The elder of the two men, Ian narrowed his eyes at her and leaned forward.
"I know who your family is. Believe me. Now, what can offer you to help me nail your father for conspiracy to commit murder?", he asked.
"I can't help you, Mr Wares." she said.
"Detective Wares.", he corrected.
Andrea glared at Michael Wares who had been friendly enough, until he'd learned her identity. If he'd left her stranded, she wouldn't be here now. She 'd be happily on her way home to Paris after calling the autoclub, of course.
"Detective Wares, I don't know my father. I don't know anyone with whom he associates. My mother took me from him very young. Occasionally, I get sucked back into the vortex that is my family like now, but most of the time I try to forget that I have one."
She looked pointedly at Michael. "I am sure you understand."
Ian barked a laugh.
She has to be a tough cookie to deal with brothers. :)
I have the picture in my head, but don't seem to put it down until later. We all work different and I'm glad you guys played along.
I have little use for weak, wall flower characters... 'Save me!' blahh. giggle
This was a nice distraction. Now back to the 'complete' synopisis of Escape to Love. I'll post the query letter later for your approval. I think I've got that.
I was reading the synopisis for Shrek the Third today for ideas...I'll get the hang of this. I will. I will.
Ian Wares stared at the office door waiting for his wayward brother Michael to burst in like the natural disaster he was. It seemed to Ian that he spent most of his life waiting for his brother and being embarrassed when he was late. As the dark haired older brother everyone always assumed that he would be more responsible than his blond baby brother. He wasn't sure if it was nature or nurture, but he was the responsible one.
And Michael was the late one who was seeing lights in the sky.
Ian tapped his cheap Casio watch, largely for the benefit of the woman in the chair opposite his desk. It wasn't his. His watch had disappeared from his desk two days ago and he expected to see it on Michael's wrist if Michael ever managed to grace them with his presence. This watch belonged to Michael. Ian could tell by the way it was set to Martian time. It obviously wasn't set of any time zone on Earth. He used the opportunity to study the petite brunette woman the Air Force had sent. When they told him they were sending an Air Force Major to interview his brother, he 'd assumed she would be a hatchet faced grizzly of a woman built like a Hummer. Instead she was small with bright green eyes and a quick smile. Astonishingly cute actually. Michael would have her wrapped around his pinkie in thirty seconds.
If he showed, that is.
The door burst open and Michael bounded in. "You are not going – "
"It's about time you showed up." Ian snapped, cutting off his brother in mid-rant. If he'd been hanging around with his conspiracy buddies again it could be an hour before he slowed down enough to notice the uniform in the room and God only knew what would come out of his mouth.
Michael met his brother's dark eyes and turned to the cute, tiny military woman, standing up and holding out her hand. Ian thought he should have warned her about his brother better. Instead of shaking the offered hand Michael grinned, turned her hand over to kiss the back of it and asked smoothly, "Who's this?"
"This is Major Andrea Wells from the Air Force. Remember? I told you she was coming to interview you today." Ian looked at his brother's wrist. His Rolex was wrapped around Michael's wrist and the crystal was cracked. Again. Michael had also rolled up one of the sleeve of his chambray shirt meaning that he'd lost a button since the last time Margarita, their housekeeper saw it. He'd have to let her know that it was time to raid Michael's room for dirty clothes again. It had been a while. They might have to hire a Haz Mat team. Maybe they could do that when Ian kidnapped Michael for a haircut. The condition his sun bleached hair was in now, that could take long enough to completely decontaminate his room.
Michael's gaze didn't waver from Major Wells. "Well, it certainly is a pleasure meeting you."
Andrea smiled. Somebody owed her big time for sticking her with this. The Brooks Brothers brother hadn't been so bad. He was polite and apologetic about his brother's no show, calling the other Mr. Wares' cell and offering her coffee while she waited. His office was eerily tidy, as if every paper that crossed his desk was expedited immediately and dust bunnies were afraid to gather. She'd begun to think this particular PR job wouldn't be so bad. All she'd have to do was listen to the wacko brother in the presence of the sane one who would do his best to control the wacko and she'd give the party line about experimental air craft and not trespassing on Government property.
The fact that the Brooks Brothers brother had been so anxious should have clued her in.
The subject, Michael Wares, seemed intent on seducing her. Not uncommon. It happened often enough. No, what was odd was that she almost felt willing to go along with him. He had some kind of freaky charisma in his thin face and feverishly bright blue eyes that drew her like an electromagnet.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, too. Now if we could get down to business." She said sweetly, reaching for her professional calm. "You phoned that you had seen something. Can you describe it?"
http://www.gather.com/viewArticle.jsp?articleId=281474977024860
but it said I didn't have permission to view it or wasn't signed in (I was)
Janet
We're starting on the first chapter at
Write the First Chapter
Check out the plot building, then go add to the chapter!
janet Gather was having fits last night. lol I wanna see that article!- Well, you can't ! - I wanna.- you can't! It was like that forever. I gave up.
Great post, Wendy. I'm glad we writers are all starting to have fun together. This is so much better than the cut-throat atmosphere of the writing contest.
Go make something up about black squirrels now. For you romance writers, maybe one of the genetically inferior techni-colored squirrels is in love with superior queen bee white squirrel. :)
Take care all.