Writing Study: Dialog

For this assignment, we were tasked with writing a scene in first person, and then doing it again in third person from a different point of view.

(First Person – Bill's Viewpoint)

Caroline storms into the office and glares at me as she passes, throwing open the door to her private office and disappearing inside without closing the door.  I flinch as I hear books fall from her bookshelf.  After a few minutes of this I ask,“Boss?”

Storming back into the outer office, she slams a book in front of me.  “Read this!”

“Sorry Boss.”

“No.  Don't sorry me, Read.  The.  Book.”

“Alright alright! I will.  Jeeesh.”

Not able to look into her blazing angry eyes I look down.  Heat rushes to my face as I notice the state she is in.  Mud is splattered over her ceremonial shift coupled with liberally-scattered grass stains that look like they will never come out.  The dampness from the mud and dew make the shift nearly transparent.  It clings to her tiny form, outlining her small breasts.  The large cut in the shift over her stomach shows her muscular belly.  Her position leaning over my desk makes the slit gape.  Finally noticing that she is no longer wearing those white harem pants she wears, my eyes move down towards wiry black--”

“Enjoying the view?”

I snap my eyes back up to her face.  Her voice so cold that I shiver.  “I-I-I--”

“Not another apology.  Read. I'll be back in a few.”

Out of my control, my eyes follow her as she leaves, my pants becoming uncomfortable as I notice how the shift clings to her behind.  With an effort I drag my eyes back to the open book  Caroline had opened the book to a chapter titled “The Ravenous.”  Tearing my mind from thoughts of Caroline's body, I get to the reading.

Finishing the reading, I look up and see Caroline leaning in her office door.  She had changed into hip-hugging blue jeans and a long and loose maroon top.  I relax a bit when I see a much calmer expression on her face.  She still looks angry, but not ready to cook me from the toes up.  I start to speak, but she interrupts as soon as I open my mouth.  “You act like a teenager not someone in their thirties.”  She walks to my desk..  “Shirking your reading, and ogling me after I barely escaped with my life.  You owe me some pantaloons.”

“Yes, um.  Sor--”

“I said stop apologizing.  You have, and it is done.  Let's move on.  You finish the reading?”

“Yes.”

“What are the keys to tell that a ghost is a Ravenous?”

“um... none of the normal transitory ghosts are around, grave markers are moved around, fresh graves are disturbed and --”

Looking at my sharply, Caroline interrupts, “And?”

Sheepishly I look up at her, “And they are active during the day.”

“Will you take the book home and read the whole thing cover to cover? ”

“Yes.”

“Will I have to quiz you on it or will you just do it?”

Blushing a deep red, I respond, “Uh.  No.”

“Good.  See you tomorrow.  Have the book read by the end of the week.”

And with that, she sweeps out of the office.  

Sighing in relief I inquire to the empty office. “How can someone barely over five feet and maybe  100 lbs soaking wet, carrying a lead filled purse,  scare me so deeply?”

(Third Person – Caroline's viewpoint)

Caroline storms into the office.  Anger all but pulses from her skin as she glares at Bill, passing his desk in the outer office.  She throws open the door to her office and immediately moves to the book shelf and roughly sorts through the books.  Not caring in her anger, she knocks books off the shelf to find the book she wants.  Book in hand she stalks back into the outer office, slams the book onto Bill's desk and growls “Read it.”

“Sorry Boss.”

Frowning at the lanky red-head, “No.  Don't sorry me, Read.  The.  Book.”

“Alright alright! I will.  Jeeesh.”

She continues to stare at Bill until an uncomfortable look passes over his face.  His eyes move down, and Caroline remembers the condition she is in.  Her ceremonial shift is covered in mud and grass stains, and her pantaloons are missing where they ripped off of her when she did not quite levitate high enough to vault over the fence.  She notices Bill start to flush and follows his eyes.  She realizes that the cut she had made in her shift to reach her plexus chakra is gaping open and exposing her privates.  In as cold a voice as she can muster she asks, “Enjoying the view?”

Bill snaps his eyes back up to her face.  “I-I-I--”

Satisfied with the look of fear on Bill's face, she relents slightly.  Opening the book to the page she wants, she looks back in his eyes.  “Not another apology.  Read. I'll be back in a few minutes.”

Caroline re-enters her office, closing the door behind her.  With a long silent sigh, she strips of the shift, a opens the bottom drawer of her desk.  She pulls a burgundy blouse, skimpy panties and tight jeans  from the drawer.  She takes her time dressing to let her anger bleed from her, and give Bill time to read.

She opens the door silently, and watches as Bill reads.  His nearly seven foot frame barely fits in the chair, and he is almost as tall sitting as she is standing.  She reflects on the fact that he has been a good agent, getting her many good jobs.  He just needs to get his act together.

She notices Bill finish his reading and look up.  Before he has a chance to, she speaks, “You act like a teenager not someone in their thirties.”  Walking to his desk she adds, “Shirking your reading, and ogling me after I barely escaped with my life.  You owe me some pantaloons.”

“Yes, um.  Sorry”

“I said stop apologizing.  You have, and it is done.  Let's move on.  You finish the reading?”

“Yes.”

“What are the key to tell that a ghost is a Ravenous?”

“um... none of the normal transitory ghosts are around, grave markers are moved around, fresh graves are disturbed and --”

Bill is at the point she wants to stress, so Caroline interrupts, “And?”

“And they are active during the day.”

Satisfied with the look on his face, she asks, “Will you take the book home and read the whole thing cover to cover? ”

“Yes.”

“Will I have to quiz you on it or will you just do it?”

Blushing a deep red, Bill responds, “Uh.  No.”

“Good.  See you tomorrow.  Have the book read by the end of the week.”  Convinced that Bill will shape up, Caroline leaves the office.

Writing Study: Characterization and Point of View

(This is from a workshop I am in. We were required to identify when we were doing the narative, dialog and action parts of the asignment)

(Narrative)

Gethen Marduk hates his job. The job should be interesting. A tenured chemistry professor should be allowed to research what he wants, but the school constantly pressures him to research for big companies to make money for the college. Every time he thinks he has a handle on his pet project, the college has him on another tangent. The projects for the companies always take months. Even with the meticulous notes he keeps, it takes him precious time to get back into the swing of his research, only to be interrupted again by another project.

On top of the indignity of wasting his time making rich companies richer, the students are whiny idiots. The college never gets him teaching assistants worth anything, and he finds himself teaching most of the classes himself. And in the lab, they only seem interested in the chance to make money, not in learning the art of chemistry. The students in his most recent class make him cringe at their inability to absorb even the simplest topics in organic history. They whine and moan over the complexity of the subject matter, without seeing any of the beauty in it.

And the way they dress. No-one has pride anymore. The boys wear pants hanging below their hips, showing garish boxers. They don't even take their caps off in class. And the girls, they might as well not be wearing anything at all. While the weather in Pasadena is pleasant most of the year, that is no excuse to dress like a street-walker.

(Transision)

Gethen jerks slightly as his wife starts massaging his shoulders.

(Dialog)

“Sorry Gethen, I didn't mean to startle you.”

Gethen smiles and places his hand over one of hers, squeezing lightly. “No, no. don't worry Kaiolohia, I was just lost in thought again.”

“They must've been deep thoughts since you just called me by my full name again, and we aren't currently making love.”

Gethen laughs lightly, “Sorry Kai. It was just another frustrating day at the school.”

“What happened?”

“It seems that one of the students objected to my proper politeness. He started with the common mimic taunting that people seem to do so often. As usual, Harold was no help, and gave me the usual 'rudeness is not grounds for suspension' and took the opportunity to start in on badgering me to do the Dow project.”

“Oh hon. Maybe you should take the offer at Scripps Research Institute. They did promise to allow you to do your research.”

“It's tempting, but in the end, it's just working for one large company instead of a different one every few months. And I don't want to take Aalona from the life he's built here.”

“Al is young. He'd bounce back and make new friends in no time.” Digging her fingers in deeper, she continues, “You keep coming home so stressed.”

“I know dear, but it isn't necessary to upturn his life. Maybe I should just go fishing more often, though it does take me away from Al and you.”

“If you think that will help, I don't mind. You treat Al and me so well all of the time, maybe you should treat yourself more often.”

“Perhaps you are correct. Mind if I go this weekend?”

“I think that would be great dear. It's been a long time, and you deserve a break.”

“I'm going to make sure I have all of my supplies. Go ahead and go to bed. I'll be up soon after I check on Al and my supplies.”

(Action)

Gethen gives his wife a quick kiss and moves out of their bedroom to Aalona's room. He pushes the door open slowly, careful to not let it squeak. Moving silently, he steps to the side of his son's bed and spends a few minutes looking at the peacefully sleeping form. A smile on his face, he takes the same care leaving the room that he did entering. He moves through the suburban house, confirming that the doors and windows are locked. He ends his circuit of the house in the mud room, steps out into the garage, and locks the door behind him.

Gethen's breathing becomes shallow as he quickly checks the perimeter of the room, looking for anything new or moved. As he passes the internal latch on the garage door, he slides it over, securing the door. Continuing his circuit he sees a stuffed animal that he has not seen before on a shelf. Hands shaking, he picks it up and examines it closely. After a few minutes of studying it, he sighs in relief and places the bear back on the shelf.

Still shaking slightly, Gethen pulls a large tackle box from the shelf next to a G. Loomis's Bronzeback fishing rod. He takes a deep breath and fans out the tackle box. With care, he pulls the bottom tray out and places it aside. Stepping to another shelf, he pulls out an anti-freeze bottle and brings it to the bench. Slowly and carefully, he pours a small amount of liquid, that has no resemblence to anti-freeze, into the cap and carefully pours it around the edges of the bottom of the tackle box. He waits thirty of his rapid heartbeats and pries the false bottom from the box. The special solvent he made in the lab disolving the special plastic sealer he also made in the lab. Hands shaking badly, he pulls a rolled black cloth from the real bottom of the box and unrolls it.

As soon as his fingers run over the row of 20 shiny scalpels, Gethen's breathing calms and his hands become rock steady.

“It will be a fine weekend of fishing.”

Writing Study: Scene: Setting

Caroline shivers. The night is unseasonably warm, but she can't suppress a second shiver. She quickens her pace through the rows of gray tombstones. Their orderly rows make her feel like she is rushing past the teeth of some huge beast ready to devour her. Dew on the clipped grass chills her bare feet, and dampens the peeling black polish on her toes. "I should not have taken this job, Bill."

The ear-piece in her left ear transmits Bill's basso voice from the cellphone in her pocket. "Well, jobs haven't been coming, so you need it."

Frustrated, Caroline brushes her hair behind her other ear. "Are you blaming me again for that apartment fire? I can't help that the clients didn't give us all the information we needed."

"If you hadn't been rude to them, they might have."

"Did they need to treat me like I was dirty? It's not like my curse is infectious."

"And that's why they treat you like you're contagious. You treat it like a curse and not a gift."

"You try living with it."

"Like you said, not contagious, so you can't give it to me to live with it."

"Har. Har. Well at least this graveyard isn't as old as some. No mausoleums. But there have been no taibhse níghe here in a while. Whatever's here has been here for a while, and... I think it's stalking me."

"The request mentions that it has started to become active in the daytime."

"What?! You didn't tell me that. I didn't prepare for that!" Looking around, Caroline mumbles, "I thought this felt wrong." She turns to her right and sprints to the nearest fence.

"That matters?"

"Yes, Bill. That matters! Déithe"

"Sorry."

Taking deep even breaths to keep the oxygen flow steady, Caroline pants, "Read. The. Book. Or. I. Get. A. New. Agent."

"Okay. Okay. I won't let it happen again."

"Crap!" Caroline narrowly dodges a small grave marker that flies up from its place towards her head. She speeds up to avoid the next marker as it flies behind her. She tucks into a roll, getting her light cotton ceremonial shift and pantaloons wet with the dew, making them cling to her skin. Another marker flies over her. Caroline stops, crouches and dumps the contents of a small felt bag. She grabs one of the tiny cotton bundles tied with different colors of yarn. She yanks an athamé from its sheath and cuts a slice on her scarred left palm. She does not bother to untie the cotton bundle but slices it open, dropping the comfrey it contained into the blood welling in her palm.

Caroline jumps as far as she can from her crouched position. A fraction of a second later, another grave marker flies through the space where she was. She uses the athamé to slit her thin shift down to her belly, then places the handle in her mouth. With the fingers of her right hand she mixes the comfrey with her blood. Pushing her pantaloons down slightly, she spreads some of the mixture over her coccyx bone. She collects more of the mixture and spreads some on her exposed solar plexus. With one finger dabbed in the mixture, she puts a single dot of the mixture on the center of her forehead. Her first, third and sixth chakra now anointed, she snatches the athamé from her mouth and concentrates her will from her solar plexus to her root and intones "Tegere!"