Describe the Scene


Posted On Jan 18 2014 by

Describe the scene. As an author, you don’t have the luxury of describing every detail in your scene. You will choose whatever stands out to your character. It’s exactly what you do in real life if you think about it. So let’s practice.

You walk in off a city street and into this place.

image

1. Describe the first three things that you notice.

2. Now narrow it to one.

3. Now do the same thing from the POV of a

a) Cop

b) Homeless woman

c) Pick a character from your current WIP.

Have fun! Share your answers in the comments if you like.

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Last Updated on: January 18th, 2014 at 8:43 am, by Ron


Written by Ron

Just about everything I believe has been shaped by the written word. But books don't force a belief; they stir the imagination so that you, the reader, eventually draw your own conclusions. We grow richer in spirit when we read, deeper in our understanding of the universe and our role in it. That's why I read. That's why I write. To offer you a bit of myself. Come along on my journey, won't you? There's plenty of room.


2 responses to “Describe the Scene

  1. As I walked into the diner, I was bombarded by red and chrome against a backdrop of monochromatic tiles. The added smell of grease, coffee, and unwashed patrons was almost overwhelming to my distressed, whirling conscience. Another time, the place would have brought back comforting memories of sharing fries and a shake with my dad. Today it just added to the confusion and hurt. I hated her. I still loved her, with all my heart, but for the moment I despised her. The sights, smells, and sounds of this cheap greasy spoon fit well with my current state of mind.

    I took a seat at the counter, welcoming the discomfort of the hard, round stool. The waitress poured a cup of coffee without asking. I took a sip and found it hot, and surprisingly good.

    The thought of food made my stomach retch. I looked around, but no one seemed to notice. I was alone in the crowd. Another betrayed, miserable shmuck in a world of miserable shmucks. Nothing to see here. Please move along.

    The coffee somehow eased the pain. It’s warmth tricked down my throat and spread through my body, bringing feeling back to my frozen extremities. I wondered for a moment how long I’d been wandering the cold city streets. It must have been hours. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the chromed napkin holder. I barely recognized the ragged face staring back with ashen skin and haunted eyes.