When I write for fun it usually consists of me focusing on an image or emotion. I then create either a scene, or a character relating to it- usually getting slightly carried away and having to revise it heavily (do to all the typos and grammar mistakes). Sometimes I will go even further by taking a scene such as the one below and try re-writing it in several different perspectives or styles finding the best fit. I have yet to actually begin a novel, but I have a lot of scenes and characters that would love to be a part of one.
The piece below is a scene of a woman sun tanning, while writing I slowly began to realize who this woman was. It is a small piece, a small scene. But it helped me discover a new character that could find her home in a larger novel in the future. Hopefully you can take something from this piece or enjoy reading it.
The green sways along amongst a sea of browns. Pieces of white gleam and pierce her imperfect eyes. The colours begin to blur and shift, taking the mind to another place; Where the brown was the ground, not man-made things, and the greens were dull- lifeless from drought and overgrazing.
This was the country, where she could stand outside in only her soft robe and enjoy a breeze untouched by anyone but her. How she sat, how she looked, how she daydreamed- her face acting out the emotions imagined- didn’t matter. No one saw this creature in her natural habitat except for the people in her mind. In this moment the world was hers alone, she was the god and she created and destroyed the moment over and over.
Dropping her arms the robe fell loose. Laying down on the prepared chair she let the world touch her, not caring that it brought the dirt and dust forming on her stomach and skin. She was a god, an idol; turning to stone was to be expected; especially if it meant that the sun wouldn’t stop kissing her yielding flesh. Each second was to be tucked inside her head, in a drawer of drawers of other cherished moments. She enjoyed letting the light touch her eyelids, creating a golden red glow around all her thoughts. She felt the sparse clouds move over her, she heard the plants talking to one another, melodies soft and gentle to her ears. Every once in awhile she would hear an animal scuffle; dogs or a cow, or maybe even an antelope grazing in a passing field. Maybe she imagined it all, but in this moment she heard and felt the world and was a part of it.
When she finally moved, shaking off the heavenly dust on her now older body, she moved with a dizzy head. Strolling into the home, passing the pictures of instant moments lost and paintings of things yet known, she finds her way to the shower. Letting the water fall onto her, she imagines it going through her, cleansing, washing away and creating something new and something older than anyone could ever hope to be. Running her hands through her hair she realizes that from now on, there will never be a moment quiet as sweet as this.
There wasn’t and there never would be, but watching those green sways and the sea of browns, she could almost feel like it once was. Once again she pretends to be that goddess and writes of her world with ink and paper, creating something new and slipping on the persona of someone far older than anyone could ever hope to be. For others this may be a sad moment, remembering but never fully experiencing such peace. She sees it for what it is, a magical moment she can experience over and over again if only she writes with it in mind. She writes not for her, but for people like her, wishing of things to be and things to not be. Most of all she writes with all her emotions dancing on her skin, flowing in and around her story and body, flowing through her and washing her clean. Some may call her contemporary, others not ordinary, but she doesn’t write with those ideas on her mind, she writes the colours she feels, the smells she tastes, experiencing the world in a new magical way, getting closer to unravelling the universe and creating it anew.