This is an idea spawned by Bjorn back in the days of the Refuge.
Ah, the good old days.
Anyway, the idea is that once a week (or so), someone suggests an idea for a writing challenge, and those who are interested try and meet the goal. There are no 'points' and this is about experimenting and style, so there are also no 'wrong' answers. We just want to compare results and discuss.
Your contribution can be a scene you write for the challenge, or a scene from a story you're already working on where you try to meet the goal of the challenge. Sounds simple enough, right?
And now, to kick this off, and because I am lazy:
Challenge number one: Write a scene with character interactions between (at least) two characters, with no dialog.
Good luck -- you'll need it! ;)
Thought lines acceptable? And should we post 'em in here once we have one?
Write what you like! I'd try to do it without thought lines, but I also recognize that's much more difficult. I recall once when Bjorn was running the challenges, he said, "Write a sunrise," and I somehow thought it was "sunset" when I submitted mine. There are no wrong answers, and one of the neat goals is to try and see how other authors approach the same subject.
In fact, I came up with a scene to write for the challenge separate from Retrograde, so I'll try and have that up later today, too.
Working on this myself, hope to have something for posting by the end of today.
In the English language, a quixotic rule is that the character q is followed by the character u. The querulous may provide queries about quaint names such as Qatar, but such quackery is quite often quickly quelled since Qatar is not quintessentially an English word.
Quite.
So just post if you have anything?
Yes -- it's just a scene, and doesn't need to be a complete story (though if it is, that's cool, too).
I dunno where this came from or what it's about. I wrote it in about 15 minutes. I haven't done this sort of writing in ages, so I know I'm rusty.
When she had leisure to reflect on it later, Kasumi could pinpoint when her day got complicated. The sharp report of a door being slammed was her first clue. The second was the stomping of feet, storming into her kitchen. Both of these were perhaps minor things, nothing to ruin the comforting rhythms of preparing lunch. These were the clues, and the final warning was the silence that followed those stomps coming into the kitchen. After a long moment Kasumi turned, a gentle rebuke on her lips, one that never came. Before her stood Ranma and Akane. The former had his shoulders slumped, a few bandages on his body and a walking stick supporting his weight. Meanwhile Akane was drawn up stiffly, arms crossed and looking away from Ranma.
What disturbed Kasumi is what was missing. What happened to...!
As she stared Ranma fished into his pocket, dumping out black petals and rumpled, torn lingerie. Akane's shoulders bunched up at this, eyebrow twitching. Her entire body seemed to radiate irritation; she pointed straight up after far too long moment. Ranma rubbed his temple and glared back at Akane, before squaring his shoulders and putting his walking stick aside. A few quick stretches followed, before he went on out of the kitchen. For far too long Kasumi couldn't help but stare at Akane, who returned that look with irritation that gave way to a softening of her face, worry and fear showing. Without a word Kasumi came forward, hugging her sister as several thumps were heard above, followed by a salvo of explosions.
As Kasumi and Akane held each other, explosions and breaking wood heard from above, Kasumi could only reflect that the path of a martial artist is indeed full of peril.
Quote from: Anastasia on November 02, 2011, 03:44:05 PMI dunno where this came from or what it's about. I wrote it in about 15 minutes. I haven't done this sort of writing in ages, so I know I'm rusty.
Then, welcome back. :)
Quote from: Anastasia on November 02, 2011, 03:44:05 PMWhen she had leisure to reflect on it later, Kasumi could pinpoint when her day got complicated. The sharp report of a door being slammed was her first clue. The second was the stomping of feet, storming into her kitchen. Both of these were perhaps minor things, nothing to ruin the comforting rhythms of preparing lunch. These were the clues, and the final warning was the silence that followed those stomps coming into the kitchen. After a long moment Kasumi turned, a gentle rebuke on her lips, one that never came. Before her stood Ranma and Akane. The former had his shoulders slumped, a few bandages on his body and a walking stick supporting his weight. Meanwhile Akane was drawn up stiffly, arms crossed and looking away from Ranma.
I'd make a new paragraph at 'After a long moment'. Or possibly at 'Before her'. This feels a bit blocky with a big-paragraph small-paragraph alternation. I also feel that separating them out into different lines is one trick to make the interactions feel like dialog, without actually using speech. (This could be a cheap trick on my part, though. I'll try and avoid that one as much in my next attempt.)
Quote from: Anastasia on November 02, 2011, 03:44:05 PMWhat disturbed Kasumi is what was missing. What happened to...!
is what -- was what (tenses)
Quote from: Anastasia on November 02, 2011, 03:44:05 PMAs she stared Ranma fished into his pocket, dumping out black petals and rumpled, torn lingerie. Akane's shoulders bunched up at this, eyebrow twitching. Her entire body seemed to radiate irritation; she pointed straight up after far too long moment. Ranma rubbed his temple and glared back at Akane, before squaring his shoulders and putting his walking stick aside. A few quick stretches followed, before he went on out of the kitchen. For far too long Kasumi couldn't help but stare at Akane, who returned that look with irritation that gave way to a softening of her face, worry and fear showing. Without a word Kasumi came forward, hugging her sister as several thumps were heard above, followed by a salvo of explosions.
I'd break this out a little more, and probably also have both of the sisters watching Ranma get himself psyched up a little more closely; this feels like it's not quite the
typical exchange....
Quote from: Anastasia on November 02, 2011, 03:44:05 PMAs Kasumi and Akane held each other, explosions and breaking wood heard from above, Kasumi could only reflect that the path of a martial artist is indeed full of peril.
Maybe add a quiet sigh...?
Since I frequently fail to point out the things that are positive:
I liked it-- You have a nice technique to avoid dialog here; I'm probably going to try and copy some of it! Thanks for sharing, Ko. :)
Slightly experimental myself; trying to get the story across without naming characters. Connected with the short Yukari/Haruhi piece I did a while back.
---
The woman in purple wanders through the shopping district, paying little attention to those wandering past her on business of their own - even as some of them turn to stare at her as she passes. Beneath the frilly parasol, however, she appears to take no notice - her attention fixed on the group of students ahead of her. A look of recognition lights up her eyes as she surveys them; a boy and two girls, none of whom could be considered normal by any usual standard - but then, for the blonde in purple, very little about her could be described as anything but unusual, standards included.
She also spots a fourth nearby, a part of the group she's following but currently not enjoying their company; in fact, this other member - a slender girl with short lavender hair - appears to be bending the bounds of perception, much as the woman in violet is doing herself. The fourth trails along behind the lady in purple, apparently trying to find something but with little success, judging from the faintly puzzled expression on her normally neutral features.
The lady in violet rests her parasol on her shoulder, a slight smile crossing her features as she studies the girl with the gold ribbon - recognizing in her a kindred spirit of sorts, if one that's still wild and uncontrolled. The realization brings a smile to her lips, as she remembers another kindred spirit, bound in gold, that she'd found a very long time ago.
That discovery had led to a challenge and a battle the likes of which she'd rarely experienced in the many hundreds of years of her existence, the golden one relying on a multitude of tricks to try to swing matters in her favor - some of which the lady in violet had never seen before or since - but in the end, the boundary between reality and illusion had held fast, and she had gained a powerful servant... and a valuable companion and even friend.
This girl... no, a direct confrontation wouldn't accomplish much in this case; it would be better to find out exactly what the girl's intentions were, and then see what could be done to push or pull her towards her own ends. The woman can easily see that the girl is used to seizing control; it doesn't take a great deal of observation to notice how she watches the boy and the second girl, ensuring that they're constantly aware of her presence. The second girl seems resigned to this; the boy, annoyed by it. Neither seems to object enough to give the taller girl a clear signal to desist, however.
The three students pause by the station, making their farewells to one another as they split up and go their separate ways. Only the beribboned girl and the hidden seeker remain; the former seems to debate for a moment before entering a nearby cafe, while the latter seems to be increasingly frustrated as she circles the violet one - it's clear that she's aware of the presence of the woman with the golden hair, but equally obvious that she's unable to perceive her directly.
The woman in purple shakes her head sadly, heading through the door of the cafe in search of the dark-haired girl. The fact that the door is not open at that time goes without notice, however, although the fact that the woman is still moving unseen may have some impact on this. She smiles to herself as she spots the golden ribbon, seated at a table alone, scowling at something known only to herself. The golden-haired woman allows herself to enter the girl's notice, seating herself across the table with that strange smile.
One way or another, things would take a turn for the interesting quite soon.
She was naked.
But for a thin white cloth to protect her modesty, she was utterly naked and unable to move. A cold, metal table gave her no support or cushioning. A simple wooden block kept her head elevated. Her eyes stared at the ceiling, never wavering from a single spot.
And the old man, balding on top with gray on the sides, whistled while he studied her through his steel-rimmed glasses. He touched two fingers to her wrist. He leaned over her head, listening for her breathing. He jotted down the name on her bracelet, whistling the sad, dissonant intervals of a minor key.
Her clothes had been folded and set aside on a counter. So paralyzed, totally frozen, she could do nothing as he wheeled her to a shiny metal basin, revealing the last of her body that she could hide. He washed her. He washed her all over, not even bothering to close her eyes. He cleaned her with a cold, smelly fluid. He twirled the sprayer, laughing to himself, but he quickly contained his mirth. The melancholic tune went on.
With a towel, he massaged her, soaking up every drop of fluid. She was young and beautiful, and if his touch was slower with her than with others, no one would be surprised. When she was dry, he massaged her. He flexed her wrists and ankles. He rubbed her arms and calves. He shaved her. She had to be presentable, after all. There would be video and pictures, even if no one else would see her as he did.
He touched a bit of balm to her lips, but this was a special blend. It made her mouth stick shut, so her expression would remain pristine. He shut her eyes and rubbed the adhesive on her lower eyelid, too, for in his line of work, she would use them again, not anytime soon. Yet all the same, he liked to whistle. It reduced the monotony of the work.
He thumbed through the papers on his clipboard, where he'd written her name down. There was a photograph with its corner dangling out. He held it out in front of him, looking between the photo and the genuine article. She was quite charming back then, whenever the image had been taken. The sunlight brought out a tinge of strawberry in her hair. She was stunning and irresistible. She took the tune right from his lips.
With a sigh, he flipped the photo over, and there was a message on the back. It was ornate, cursive handwriting, yet the message was all too simple.
"Please make our daughter look like she's at peace."
With a nod and a smile, the old man in the steel-rimmed glasses started whistling again, just as he hooked a tube to the girl's neck.
I ... think I went overboard again. Did this in google docs, to give that a shot and see what happens (interesting so far). Differences between this and
Retrograde:
Did not use the 'don't name any characters' trick, did not use present tense to conceal a potentially faltering style. Also, is pure WAFF and only a single scene, but anyway:
QuoteGrinning triumphantly, Haruhi marched towards the clubroom door, one hand reaching out to grab the knob and wrench it open before she slowed, glancing back across her shoulder thoughtfully. Her fingertips resting on the metal of the door-handle, she scanned across the pair following her.
Koizumi, looking as calm as ever, watching her expectantly, and Mikuru, looking tired, but unable to conceal a small smile of her own.
Not even certain why she did so, Haruhi brought a single fingertip to her lips in quiet warning. Koizumi nodded in understanding without hesitation. While looking confused, Mikuru nodded her understanding as well, a heartbeat later.
Satisfied, Haruhi turned her attention to the door, opening it quietly-- And then stepping through quickly so the pair of subordinates behind her couldn't see the grin she was beaming at the one in front of her. His head was on his crossed arms, turned away, and as she watched, the faintest of snores escaped him.
Quickly mastering her expression, Haruhi spun and pointed at the bag Koizumi carried, then turned her hand and flattened it out, palm upwards as she quirked one eyebrow expectantly. He gave her a confused shake of the head before suddenly brightening, ducking his head and pulling the digital camera out.
Snatching it away, Haruhi then used her other hand to give him a shooing, dismissive gesture, offset by her eager grin. The boy's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he nodded understanding and gave a crisp salute before turning silently on one heel and marching away. Not waiting further, Haruhi's free hand found itself clamping onto Mikuru's shoulder through the thin fabric of the 'combat waitress' costume.
Biting her lower lip, Mikuru managed to swallow back a shriek, muting it to the quietest of whimpers. Haruhi stepped in after her, nodding in satisfaction, then pointing to the school uniform hanging on the rack and making the same gesture she had given to Koizumi, ushering her towards her outfit.
Mikuru's eyes widnened, and she glanced at Kyon, finally pointing at him questioningly, even as her face began to redden.
Haruhi's eyes narrowed as her smile faded. She raised the camera in one hand, quirking one eyebrow higher in warning and moving her hand in a small, quick circle. Understanding the gesture, Mikuru winced, hurriedly rushing to the costume rack and fumbling as quietly as possible.
With exaggerated, slow motions, Haruhi activated the camera, making a show of removing the lens cap and checking its settings-- Breaking from her inspection to glance at Mikuru's progress.
The older girl had finished zipping up her skirt, the heat in her face dying down as she reached for her cardigan. The very soft sound of a book closing made both of the other girls freeze for a heartbeat, before turning to look at the third girl -- unnoticed until just that moment.
Her eyes as unreadable as always, Yuki tilted her face slightly, the merest glimmer of interest in her eyes.
Haruhi's expression shifted to a scowl of annoyance, and she rolled her eyes, pointing at the clock above the door, then raising one eyebrow in question again. Yuki rose to her feet noiselessly, then turned to look at Kyon for a moment, then turned her unchanged expression back to Haruhi.
Grudgingly, the brigade chief nodded her understanding before shaking her head and pointing at the door, this time offsetting her shooing motion with a smile. While Mikuru finished dressing, and Yuki moved to walk past them, Haruhi connected the digital camera to the computer.
By the time she finished, she looked up to see that Mikuru and Yuki had both left wordlessly -- one of them thinking to put their cardigan across his shoulders. As if in gratitude, he heaved a sigh in his sleep, pressing his face more tightly into the pillow made from his crossed arms.
Scowling, she leapt to her feet, staring at the cardigan for a minute before nodding decisively, pacing behind him and adding her own. After a minute her scowl deepened, and she shook her head, unsatisfied.
Her pacing resumed, this time crossing back and forth across the room on the opposite side of the table, the quiet sound of her footsteps slowly picking up in volume-- Until Kyon released a quiet grumble, shifting slightly.
She froze immediately, turning to stare at him with worry in her eyes-- Before her eyes suddenly widened and a smile came to her face, brighter and more excited than before.
Moving to the computer, she watched him carefully as she disconnected the camera, then moved to his side. Raising it to capture his face in frame, she schooled her expression and pressed the button, pleased at the audible click. She lowered the camera cautiously--
He shifted slightly in his sleep, but otherwise didn't react.
Thoughtful for a moment, she took a few more pictures, more quiet clicks punctuating the silence-- But he remained asleep.
Scowling, she took a deep breath to steel herself, unable to keep some of the worry about what she was doing from her face. Decided on her course of action, her gaze fixed on him still -- she gave a firm, but deliberate kick to the leg of the table.
His eyes popped blearily open, his face still turned towards her, and the triumphant expression on her face was replaced with a much less certain one as she considered what she'd done....
I was aiming for (though I don't know if I pulled it off):
To show Haruhi wanting to be caught without spelling it out; this does somewhat change the context of the cardigan from how the anime handles it, but if I did it right, this should be somewhat cute, anyway. Let's see. :p
QuoteI'd make a new paragraph at 'After a long moment'. Or possibly at 'Before her'. This feels a bit blocky with a big-paragraph small-paragraph alternation. I also feel that separating them out into different lines is one trick to make the interactions feel like dialog, without actually using speech. (This could be a cheap trick on my part, though. I'll try and avoid that one as much in my next attempt.)
Yeah, I'd restructure that too. I prefer longer paragraphs when possible, so in a real fic I'd have revised that section accordingly. In this case I wanted thicker paragraph - short one line - thicker paragraph - short one line to finish. Sort of like leading with jabs and then a short, strong hook to make an impact, yeah?
Quoteis what -- was what (tenses)
Thanks! Tenses are my eternal nemesis.
QuoteI'd break this out a little more, and probably also have both of the sisters watching Ranma get himself psyched up a little more closely; this feels like it's not quite the typical exchange....
That's on purpose. It feels like it isn't a typical exchange.
QuoteMaybe add a quiet sigh...?
I thought about it, but I left the line as is. I wanted a certain sense of heaviness about it, something I didn't want cut by a sigh. I have a sense something went way off course here and something is wrong.
QuoteI liked it-- You have a nice technique to avoid dialog here; I'm probably going to try and copy some of it! Thanks for sharing, Ko. :)
Thanks. I admit I feel like I cheated a bit, but I'm okay with the final product.
Quote from: Halbarad on November 02, 2011, 07:54:18 PM
Slightly experimental myself; trying to get the story across without naming characters. Connected with the short Yukari/Haruhi piece I did a while back.
I liked it well enough. I noticed some few small things, but the one big thing that stuck out was ... while Yukari was observing, there were no two-way interactions for you to portray between Yukari/anyone else (except for Yuki, and that was very brief). It's a nicely done stream-of-thought/introspection piece, that aside, though. :)
Quote from: Muphrid on November 02, 2011, 08:42:13 PM"Please make our daughter look like she's at peace."
Not quite sure what to make of this one. O_o
I thought it was a coroner, but then she was breathing, so I couldn't really say. Chilling, that's for certain. Not at all what I had expected, and if it's a reference to something, I totally missed it. Nothing new there, though! ^_^
Interesting, to say the least.
Quote from: Anastasia on November 02, 2011, 10:15:52 PMThanks. I admit I feel like I cheated a bit, but I'm okay with the final product.
I think we're all cheating a little bit -- kind of have to, with a challenge like this.
Speaking of which ... er ... did this challenge kill all posting?
I've been meaning to post comments, but I've been busy.
Gonna have to echo that. Nothing like finding out your presentation on a semester's worth of work is going to be two weeks earlier. Now that I can catch a breath,
@Brian's: That sort of deliberate obliqueness on Haruhi's part seems very characteristic of her. It's cute.
@Ana's: I guess I'm a little lost. Who's thumping Ranma upstairs? Genma? Otherwise, it seems like a routine day for Ranma all right. That feel is captured well.
@Hal's: Very fluid. I'm not sure--is "beribboned" a word? Other than that, the narration does well in conveying the thoughts of the woman in purple (I'm not familiar with Yukari, so I can only logically guess her identity), so it was accessible even to me.
I know Brian had a question about mine; it was intended that the old man be a mortician (and hence, he listens for her breathing rather than to it, but that may be splitting hairs on my part). Otherwise, having one of the two be dead seemed like an easy way to eliminate the need for dialogue. Eheh.
Quote from: Brian on November 04, 2011, 02:27:26 PM
I think we're all cheating a little bit -- kind of have to, with a challenge like this.
For something like this, if you're not cheating, you're not trying.
Also, no one has cheated quite as badly as I have, so no one ought to feel bad about what they've posted.
Quote from: Muphrid on November 04, 2011, 08:47:18 PM@Ana's: I guess I'm a little lost. Who's thumping Ranma upstairs? Genma? Otherwise, it seems like a routine day for Ranma all right. That feel is captured well.
Rather the opposite on what's happening upstairs.
And not routine. You have to see what isn't there.
What's the word? Is bird the word? John had flipped James the bird. He flipped him the bird because James won the flip. They were flipping a coin to win a trip. So James grabbed John's throat in a iron-bound grip, and pushed John off a ledge in a stumbling trip. Now John is in heaven and James is a jail...bird? Is bird the word?
No subtlety in this one, so not very good. Maybe a third time will be the charm.
Bird can't be the word. That's quite absurd. Haven't you heard?
Regarding the challenge... well, you know what? I said I wanted to work on writing anyway so I'll try my best.
-------------
It was a cup. It was always that damned cup.
Whenever she put it on the table it meant things. Bad things. Things that he'd rather not talk about but damned if he
wasn't obligated to. A cup? It's worthless. Just a damned cup.
He sighed and palmed his face. A migraine was just the topping on the shitcake that was his day. He hemmed, he hawed. He
reached for a smoke.
She used to love the smell.
She sighed and palmed the cup. It didn't seem like it would happen that night. Everything was hanging on this discussion,
or at least it seemed to.
Small bits and pieces of movements and expressions culminated in that night, where so much was said but so much was not. He finished his smoke. He made eye contact.
And then he broke it. And then she broke down. He left.
-------------------
Well, let's try that.
Okay, let's try this one.
---
Bound. Shackled. A room full of men. It might have been the prelude to a fun evening, but certainly not when sitting in a chair in a rebel torture room.
Granted, only her hands were manacled to each other, but it wasn't as if she could take out the half-squad assigned to this chamber with her hands bound. She counted herself lucky that they hadn't yet tied her down to something heavier. After the havoc she'd wreaked with her hands free, and ones she'd killed when she was discovered, they were still nerving themselves up to how to deal with her. Even her assigned interrogator looked nervous. But eventually, they'd make an attempt, and at that point, she'd have to decide: whether to lose most of her ability to resist, or to fight and most likely die.
They had just firmed their resolve and began to move towards her, when the interrogation room door opened, and a man, similarly shackled and roughed up, but clothed, was pushed inside ahead of another torturer.
He was pushed towards another seat, facing her, while the two rebel torturers bickered about room assignments. She glanced at each of three guards standing behind the new prisoner, for one second apiece, then looked at him. Then repeated the cycle once more. And once more.
After an epoch-long minute, he looked back at her, with a dazed expression. Then, still dazed, he looked slightly to her left. Then directly behind her. Then at her.
She blinked five times.
He blinked four.
She blinked three.
He blinked two.
She blinked once.
In a split second, they both reached behind themselves, grabbed a head, and twisted
---
So, this is an honest attempt, and with minimal gestures to boot. This was earlier to write than a few other attempts, since the scene required no dialogue.
Quote from: Halbarad on November 02, 2011, 07:54:18 PMStuff
I like puzzled Yuki, that was cute. I'm okay with the rest of it; I mean, I know it's supposed to be Yukari but I don't know the character at all so this is all intellectual. I gather she's sort of like Haruhi so things are going to indeed get interesting?
Quote from: Edward on November 05, 2011, 10:51:45 AM
Quote from: Muphrid on November 04, 2011, 08:47:18 PM@Ana's: I guess I'm a little lost. Who's thumping Ranma upstairs? Genma? Otherwise, it seems like a routine day for Ranma all right. That feel is captured well.
Rather the opposite on what's happening upstairs.
And not routine. You have to see what isn't there.
Indeed. It's the sort of snippet where you need to read slowly and between the lines. I left it vague so that the reader can imply what they wish from it. That said, I have figured out what I think is going on there, I can spoil it if you guys prefer that.
Basically. Another reality warper, but one in this case with awareness of her power and more than a millennium of experience with it. Throw in a really weird outlook on the nature of reality and yeah, things are likely to get strange in a hurry.
Quote from: Muphrid on November 02, 2011, 08:42:13 PMStuff
Nice. I had the idea it was a coroner working right off the bat. I identified with this, mostly since I've dealt with dead bodies before and that triggered memories. It didn't do horror for me, 'cause after a few bodies you get numb to them. In regards to what Brian said, I didn't think that she was breathing, he was just checking to make sure a mistake hadn't been made.
All that said I liked it, it was a fine technical piece.