Ready to try something new? Get out your pen and paper and read on...
Put your timer on ten minutes and jot down
your answer to the following questions. Try to write for the full time.
Who is your
favorite character in any movie, play or work of literature? Why? How has the
filmmaker/playwright/author made you care?
Exposition
(background information you need for the
rest of this to make sense)
Readers find out
about character in five ways:
- The author tells us directly what we
need to know or think
- Listening to what the character says
or doesn’t say.
- Watching what the character does or
doesn’t do.
- Listening to what the other
characters say about him/her.
- Watching how the other characters
treat him/her.
Activity
1. Choose any work
in progress you already have (if you don’t have one, go to this workshop for
prompts).
2. Determine your
protagonist (the main character).
3. The challenge:
Write a scene where the reader learns about the protagonist, but he/she never
appears. Use the last two methods for finding out about a character only. This
could be a scene that’s used to introduce the reader to the main character or a
scene where we learn more information about him or her.
Want an example?
Read the dialogue below to see how Charles Dickens did it in this abridged
excerpt from A Christmas Carol. Scrooge and the Ghost of Christmas
Future are eavesdropping on a rather unsavory group of people:
Scrooge and the Phantom came into
the presence of this man, just as a woman with a heavy bundle slunk into the
shop. But she had scarcely entered, when another woman, similarly laden, came
in too, and she was closely followed by a man in faded black, who was no less
startled by the sight of them than they had been upon the recognition of each
other. After a short period of blank astonishment, in which the old man with the
pipe had joined them, they all three burst into a laugh.
"You couldn't have met in a
better place," said old Joe, removing his pipe from his mouth. "Come
into the parlour. You were made free of it long ago, you know; and the other
two an't strangers. Stop till I shut the door of the shop. Ah! How it skreeks!
There an't such a rusty bit of metal in the place as its own hinges, I believe;
and I'm sure there's no such old bones here as mine. Ha! ha! We're all suitable
to our calling, we're well matched. Come into the parlour. Come into the
parlour."
The parlour was the space behind
the screen of rags. The old man raked the fire together with an old stair-rod,
and, having trimmed his smoky lamp (for it was night) with the stem of his
pipe, put it into his mouth again.
While he did this, the woman who
had already spoken threw her bundle on the floor, and sat down in a flaunting
manner on a stool; crossing her elbows on her knees, and looking with a bold
defiance at the other two.
"What odds, then? What odds,
Mrs. Dilber?" said the woman. "Every person has a right to take care
of themselves. He always did!"
"That's true, indeed!"
said the laundress. "No man more so."
"Why, then, don't stand
staring as if you was afraid, woman! Who's the wiser? We're not going to pick
holes in each other's coats, I suppose?"
"No, indeed!" said Mrs.
Dilber and the man together. "We should hope not."
"Very well, then!" cried
the woman. "That's enough. Who's the worse for the loss of a few things
like these? Not a dead man, I suppose?"
"No, indeed," said Mrs.
Dilber, laughing.
"If he wanted to keep 'em
after he was dead, a wicked old screw," pursued the woman, "why
wasn't he natural in his lifetime? If he had been, he'd have had somebody to
look after him when he was struck with Death, instead of lying gasping out his
last there, alone by himself."
"It's the truest word that
ever was spoke," said Mrs. Dilber, "It's a judgment on him."
"I wish it was a little
heavier judgment," replied the woman; "and it should have been, you
may depend upon it, if I could have laid my hands on anything else. Open that
bundle, old Joe, and let me know the value of it. Speak out plain. I'm not
afraid to be the first, nor afraid for them to see it. We knew pretty well that
we were helping ourselves before we met here, I believe. It's no sin. Open the
bundle, Joe."
But the gallantry of her friends
would not allow of this; and the man in faded black, mounting the breach first,
produced _his_ plunder. It was not extensive. A seal or two, a pencil-case, a
pair of sleeve-buttons, and a brooch of no great value, were all. They were
severally examined and appraised by old Joe, who chalked the sums he was
disposed to give for each upon the wall, and added them up into a total when he
found that there was nothing more to come.
"That's your account,"
said Joe, "and I wouldn't give another sixpence, if I was to be boiled for
not doing it. Who's next?"
Mrs. Dilber was next. Sheets and
towels, a little wearing apparel, two old-fashioned silver tea-spoons, a pair
of sugar-tongs, and a few boots. Her account was stated on the wall in the same
manner.
"I always give too much to
ladies. It's a weakness of mine, and that's the way I ruin myself," said
old Joe. "That's your account. If you asked me for another penny, and made
it an open question, I'd repent of being so liberal, and knock off
half-a-crown."
"And now undo my bundle, Joe," said the first
woman.
Joe went down on his knees for the
greater convenience of opening it, and, having unfastened a great many knots,
dragged out a large heavy roll of some dark stuff.
"What do you call this?"
said Joe. "Bed-curtains?"
"Ah!" returned the woman,
laughing and leaning forward on her crossed arms. "Bed-curtains!"
"You don't mean to say you
took 'em down, rings and all, with him lying there?" said Joe.
"Yes, I do," replied the
woman. "Why not?"
"You were born to make your
fortune," said Joe, "and you'll certainly do it."
"I certainly shan't hold my
hand, when I can get anything in it by reaching it out, for the sake of such a
man as He was, I promise you, Joe," returned the woman coolly. "Don't
drop that oil upon the blankets, now."
"His blankets?" asked
Joe.
"Whose else's do you
think?" replied the woman. "He isn't likely to take cold without 'em,
I dare say."
"I hope he didn't die of
anything catching? Eh?" said old Joe, stopping in his work, and looking
up.
"Don't you be afraid of
that," returned the woman. "I ain’t so fond of his company that I'd
loiter about him for such things, if he did. Ah! You may look through that
shirt till your eyes ache; but you won't find a hole in it, nor a threadbare
place. It's the best he had, and a fine one too. They'd have wasted it, if it
hadn't been for me."
"What do you call wasting of
it?" asked old Joe.
"Putting it on him to be
buried in, to be sure," replied the woman with a laugh. "Somebody was
fool enough to do it, but I took it off again. If calico ain’t good enough for
such a purpose, it isn't good enough for anything. It's quite as becoming to
the body. He can't look uglier than he did in that one."
Scrooge listened to this dialogue
in horror. As they sat grouped about their spoil, in the scanty light afforded
by the old man's lamp, he viewed them with a detestation and disgust which
could hardly have been greater, though they had been obscene demons, marketing
the corpse itself.
See
how Dickens used the other characters to give us information about Ebenezer
Scrooge? They never mentioned him by name, yet we know from the context who
they disparaged. All done without Scrooge saying a word.
Okay,
go back up to #3 above and write your own scene. Show us a character through
other people’s words and actions. To check for validity, ask yourself the
question:: how would an actor portray the character you’ve created? What clues
have you given him/her to use?
Use
the comments sections to post questions or to brag about your success!
My
qualifications
The contents of these workshops are
actually my accumulation of several years’ experience teaching creative writing
in real-life classroom settings. Each workshop has been tried and tested
several times. Additional workshops came from my work in Second Life where I
gave many of these workshops in the virtual world (as Diana Allandale). This
is, however, the first time all the various workshops I’ve
offered in both worlds are gathered and published in one place.
The
nitty-gritty
A new workshop will be posted every
Tuesday. Eventually we’ll have the contents of a book about writing. At that
point, I’ll collect all the workshops in ebook (and maybe print) form for those
who would like it all bundled into one nice, neat place and offer it for sale.
You’ll see a new button below. If
you enjoy the workshops and find them useful, please consider sending a
donation my way. When the final product is ready to go, those who have donated
each time will get a free copy of the ebook as a gift from me. I won’t dun you
twice for the content.
