On this page I place small writing excerpts where I practice writing my different narrators and give some explanation into what I am trying to do. The excerpts I’ll post here are either cut bits from other scenes, or are from scenes I have not posted yet. The goal here is a “character sketch” or discovery writing that helps me find my narrators inner voice.

Usually what happens when I am doing discovery writing is that I open the scene with a long inner monologue for whichever character is the narrative entry point, then I ease into the events of the scene. Not a great approach for everything per se, but it does help with getting into my character’s headspace before what needs to happen happens. These are usually what gets cut or broken up and put in smaller doses throughout the story. For example, in scene 1.3.18 (The Break Up), Grace goes ON and ON before she gets to her inciting line: “I don’t think we can see each other anymore.” I do this a lot. In the breakup it sort of works because she is talking herself into it, but other times it isn’t all that helpful.

In another vein, I also find that it is helpful to keep these long excerpts because they help me find the characters thought pattern, the cadence, what lends they are filtering through. I started each character with a basic idea of how they work, then I am fleshing it out before going into the scene.

Here are some examples:

GRACE

Grace has been my biggest challenge in this project. She has long winded, winding thoughts. To achieve this I use long sentences, lots of commas, repetitions of the same thing worded slightly differently, she often takes the scenic route to her point. This serves her tendency toward avoidance, and it also serves her self-rationalization and justification. Notably though, she is never doing that to psych herself out. She is almost always looking for comfort, to find some reason she’s actually correct, why its okay, etc. She is also quite anxious, and so even as she searches for comfort, the length that search takes her causes her a lot of stress. I have also tried to make her thoughts a little shorter as she relaxes. For example, when she is with Adrian, her thoughts are shorter, and she verbalizes more. When she is alone, they get longer, my hope is that that conveys her stress in a subtle way.

Example 1

This example (my current draft of scene 1.1.7, the gift scene) shows what I mean. Grace prepares a gift for Adrian. It is clothing and a hair pin that reminded her of his artwork. She narrates her entire sneaky process of getting his measurements, watching the field so he wouldn’t see when it was delivered, and so on. She exposits some information about their relationship, Adrian’s life, etc. But eventually it just starts wandering. She thinks about the party, her inheritance, Verity’s.

Then once Adrian arrives and she gives him the gift, her thoughts move outward. She verbalizes almost everything, she physically relaxes. So, shorter sentences, more reading his physical cues, less meandering inside herself.

1.1.7: Gift Scene (Draft)

He’d be over any time. She had waited until he was out in the after lunch to even dare laying it out to wrap it. How ridiculous, she thought, surely there was no way he’d have seen Tatum leaving the back door. That he would recognize the wagon. She watched him carefully from her window, and when she was absolutely certain that he would not look over in any meaningful way, she carried out her task.

The box arrived with only a few hours before it was needed. Generally she would walk through through the shop first, but for this she had opted to order something custom from the seamstress in town. Tatum, who owned the shop, had assured her that the rush on her order would be of no consequence. So long as no additional fitting was required, all was well.

It had been a challenge to get the accurate measurements, which spiked her worry. In the last couple of weeks she had tried without success to convince Adrian to leave some of his clothing at her house so she could use it as reference for the seamstress. After what had been an otherwise unsuccessful endeavor, she invited him over and snuck off with his clothing as he had slept. He wore full long johns while at home (or so he claimed), but at her house he wore only the bottoms, sometimes less, bemoaning the heat in her room. Thankfully his were old and fit snug against his body. She added this in her note to Tatum, would they need extra room? No way to know.

She wrapped the box with some leftover painted paper from her last birthday, laying the clothing out in the box as nicely as she could. They looked perfect. Taking a small piece of stationary out of her desk and sliding it over the box, she scrawled his name across it and, with a smirk, folded it into a star shape and secured it to the top, laying one kiss on top of it, for luck.

Now to wait.

Grace moves restlessly away from the window and into the wardrobe, pouring over her selection of suitable clothing for the occasion. Verity had invited them a few weeks back for her inheritance party. There wasn’t much, Grace was fairly sure that Verity’s parents were more interested in retiring to the south than they were in passing their accounting business to Verity. They had hired a manager to do everything already, Verity would merely be a figurehead. If anything it was really more a going away party.

Her own inheritance, or so she had been told, would be different. Given her parents larger contracts with the government, she would likely have to be quite involved in the day to day as the executive of the estate alongside an operations manager, and a small board of other involved parties. It all seemed tedious. But she wouldn’t be alone figuring it out, she’d have Adrian there with her.

Not that Mom knew that yet.

Mom thought she might find another first born to merge with, then perhaps hire Adrian to work for her. Then the relationship would not be so suspect. But that would mean she’d have to marry someone else and the idea of that filled her with unimaginable sadness. The idea of giving of herself to another, and that person being anyone but Adrian, was not really part of the equation. She’d sooner resign herself to singledom. Her throat closed.

Clearing it aggressively, she pulls her dark brown dress from the wardrobe and lays it out on the bed. It would match what she had chosen for Adrian nicely. Her friends would be re-meeting him today. They hadn’t seen much of him since he had left school, he’d kept busy. That was one way to put it. Owen did not let him off the farm much, but, so long as everything got done he was otherwise left alone.

This evening she had had to ask. Adrian had mentioned that he knew if he was the one to ask it would get shut down. But if she did, that would be a different story. She had had to spend an hour prattling on about the land in their garden to Owen for an hour last weekend to get him to agree, and listen to him go on about how difficult this all must be for her. At times like that she always made sure to pepper in what a comfort to her Adrian was. How useful, how perfectly capable. She could tell Owen hated how close they had become since she’d finished school. They’d known each other forever, but after she didn’t have lessons every day they had drifted together. She couldn’t imagine doing anything without him. Inheriting, running the business, going to this party. Any of it. She hated that things were being made so complicated. Being a first born made everything more annoying.

Regardless. The evening. Fun. Party.

She glances out the window and stared out at the field.

Empty.

A knock at the door sends a jolt through her. Throwing her robe over the chemise, she shakes out her nerves and opens the bedroom door.

“Grace! Door’s for you.” Emma’s voice calls from the bottom of the stairs. She comes down half way and spots him standing in the foyer. Emma had already made herself scarce. When he spots her he steps forward and rests both his hands on the banister. The tension in her shoulders relaxes, and as she takes him in her throat reopens.

“Hi.” His voice is so warm. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Tom and I were close so we just pushed a little longer and finished. I’d’ve been here a half hour ago otherwise.”

She slides her own on top of his and leans downward to kiss him. He deepens it for just a second before pulling away. “You got here at the perfect time.”

“You’re not even ready yet.” He laughs, gesturing at her robe. “Unless this is some kind of fashion statement I’m missing.”

“Come up and help me finish? Party’s not for an hour or so anyway.”

When they get up to the bedroom she gestures for Adrian to enter first, slips in quickly behind him and closes the door playfully, pressing her back into it. He turns quickly at the sound and approaches her.

“Unless we’re not going to the party?” He lays several gentle kisses on her neck and cheeks. “And all this,” He unties her robe and slides his arms around her waist, “was for me?”

Her own hands snake around his neck and pull him closer to her. “I have something for you.”

She slips away and nearly jumps over the bed into the drawer where she had hidden it. She pulls out the box and sets it on the bed next to where she sits. “This is for you.”

Something flickers across his face as he registers what is happening. He crosses to her and sits, the box nestled between them.

“What’s all this? My birthday is not for another six months, what are we celebrating?”

Grace beams. “Just my love for you.”

He smiles. She gathers her courage and sifts through her mind looking for the right words. To explain. “There will be a lot of people at the party and—”

She trails off, looking around the room. He was watching her intently.

“Well I thought that you might like something that could be just yours. Not Tom’s old things, or your Dad’s you know? I want you to have something that might…I don’t know, reflect who you are outside of that. Plus I thought that once we’re off in the city or town or wherever, you probably won’t be out in the field and. I want you to have things for that.”

Adrian sits quietly for a moment, staring at the box.

She squeezes the muscles in her legs and forces herself to make eye contact with him.

“For our life together, you know? For your life, after this is all settled.”

He reaches across the box and places his hand on her shoulder, his thumb rubbing gently against her collarbone.

“Thank you. I can’t tell you how much that means to me. Just —Thank you. Truly.”

She tilts her head to the side and lays her cheek on the top of his hand, stilling it. “I love you.”

They stay that way for a while. Eventually her discomfort and impatience get the better of her and she pulls away and sits upright, gesturing at the gift.

“Oh open it already!”

Adrian laughs and slides the note off the top. He rolls his lips together and sighs quickly after reading it. That was a good sign. He refolds the paper and tucks it into his pocket. Turns to the box, and opens it.

Grace holds her breath.

The shirt is at the top of the pile. The muted burgundy colour complimented his skin exactly how she’d imagined. The details were suited to him as well, she thought. The tiny lace edge around the short sleeves and the bottom the faint geometric pattern that was stitched in white into the chest pocket and into the support stitch for the lace. Then the pants. Lightweight dark ones, like the dressier trousers Rook wore to meetings, only in a deep brown. And at the bottom of the box, the little hair pin she’d found at the salon. A tiny metallic flower sat on the top, intricate and detailed.

Adrian mouth opens slightly. His eyes widen and his shoulder lower as he looks them over. He seems overcome.

“Grace. These are so beautiful.” He slides the fabric between his fingers then pulls her into an embrace. “You shouldn’t — you had all this made?”

Her breath releases. He liked them. Had it been too much? She’d gotten him gifts before. Nothing this large. No matter.

“The clothes yes, the pin I saw at the salon last week and it just reminded me of you instantly.”

He sniffles, fighting something back.

“Last fall, when you showed me your carvings. I couldn’t stop thinking about them. Ever since, whenever I see something intricate or tiny and complex like that I think of you. I love how you see all of that. You’re so remarkable. I have this idea that when I inherit we’ll have a whole space for you to work on that. With light and tools and whatever you need. You won’t have to hide it all in that little corner anymore. You could fill the whole room. No one would be able to take it away.”

He turns the pin in his hand, almost cradling it. “You mean all that?”

She nods. “I do. Probably more. If we’re moving to the city.”

He wipes his eyes. Grace sets the box on the floor and closes the distance between them.

“Adrian. You deserve so much more than how your Dad treats you. I want you to have it. I want to give it to you. I know things have been messy these last few months with the inheritance. I’m not happy about it either, that we can’t just sell everything and leave. But I don’t want you to feel like any of that has had any effect on us. You’re my everything. I don’t know what I would do without you. None of this makes sense when we aren’t together.”

“You’re mine too.” He says, “I love us together. I want all those things too. With you.”

He reaches out to her shoulder again. “We’ll figure all of it out. We always do.”

They stay that way for a few moments.

“I thought it might be nice if you wore it tonight?” Grace suggests. “I picked my dress out so that we could match.”

“That sounds perfect.”

Example 2

Grace enters the barn somewhere in the first half of section 1.3 and finds Adrian sleeping. She doesn’t wake him. Instead she sits and watches, then daydreams about things being nicer. Less of the longer sentences, more of the wandering. I use longer sentences for the flowy daydream and short clipped ones when she is pulled back to reality. The structure here works but the words do not quite do it for me yet. Hence why this is was cut.

In terms of writing, I thought this made Grace slightly too formal, which I don’t think is her voice here. “How she longed…” and so on. It’s a little purple, which is the constant problem with Grace. Finding that line between elegant wandering and flowery purple prose.

Scene (CUT – Probably somewhere between 1.3.4 and 1.3.8)

When she entered the barn that day she was not expecting what she found. While he usually sat, legs somewhat sprawled in front of him with his back pressed firmly against the back wall, today, he laid in a heap upon the ground; the minimal slack from the chain wrapped twice around his fingers, likely providing some semblance of relief to his neck. He slept rather soundly, a new idea for him, who spent much of the day fighting to stay vigilant, this mid afternoon slumber seemed a welcome intrusion. Opting not to disturb his rest, she settled herself on the ground his opposite, taking in the view out the gate to his side.

How small the world seemed from this place. The lightly blowing grass bent ever so softly against the gentle breeze, the warmth of the day inviting the flowers in her yard, nestled far, the very edge of the horizon, to gaze upward, as if only to bask in its glow.

Grace leaned her head against a nearby beam and took this in for a time. How she longed to throw the gate open, lay between Adrian’s legs, and gaze up to the clouds, allowing the afternoon to pass. In another life this is what they would be doing, she thought. The old picnic blanket taken from its place beneath her bed and laid under them, the pillowed clouds flowing effortlessly across the endless blue sky above. Adrian’s warmth shielding her from the imposition of stronger gusts of wind, however unnecessary. She thought of how she might hold his hand as they point out shapes forming amongst the clouds, how his fingers, ever so slightly cooler than his palms as they always were, slid up to meet her hand, eagerly gesturing upward. Every so often she would look up and back just to take him in and there he would be. Resting peacefully behind her, the relative ease of the day bringing about the return of his smile, the dark circles under his eyes gone, the furrow in his brow softened. How she longed for him to be this way, renewed, rested, thawed.

A stark contrast to the Adrian she saw laid out today. It was difficult to see him this way. His clothing stained, the scent of him having sweat through and lingered in the air surrounding him. The breeze did little to help and the higher humidity added to the problem. The only way to truly escape the smell would be to go outside.

A deep purple and black bruise decorated the back of his neck and the area around his shirt collar, the padlock that confined him sat unaffected atop his flesh, slowly maiming it with each head turn.

She imagined how awful this must be for him. To wake up each morning and take in such a view only to be pulled back into reality by a place like this. To re-realize one’s position each and every morning. How did he manage? How long had it been?

THOMAS

Thomas offers an interesting opportunity to explore the way the same idea effects people differently. He was the first character I had to fully create for this project. Grace and Adrian have always sort of existed in different forms in my head, so they are familiar. But Thomas I had to consciously construct in a way that I did not with Grace or Adrian, who I sort of “discovered” if that makes sense. I feel like this makes me slightly more aware of how Thomas works as a character. With Grace its as though she exist and I am slowly figuring her out. Thomas I did in the opposite direction. To write him, I circle the same things. I use simpler vocabulary, he uses shorter sentences always, and he asks more questions. He is also more observant. Grace’s thought closers tend to be comments on her own experience, Thomas will note what someone else is doing.

Thomas is different from Grace is several ways that make writing him a fun challenge. For one thing, he is never really thinking of himself. When he does, this tends to be rooted in thinly veiled shame. Or questions. He relates this gut feeling to the outer world as quickly as he can. He is always eager to get out of his head. He avoids this by deferring to concerning himself with others. This makes him sympathetic, caring, warm, kind, and all those other good things. It also means he second guesses himself constantly, sometimes without fully acknowledging it. He is also painfully present in a way the others are not (Grace is in her mind, Adrian his body, Thomas is in both). To deal with this he ruminates obsessively. This is very different from Grace, whose mind goes quickly from thing to thing, wandering. Thomas circles the same things, looking to either confirm his judgement of either himself or the situation or both. He explores his own feelings by empathizing with others, which I (sort of) explore in the example.

Example 3

In this scene at the beginning of Act 2, Thomas reflects on his assistance to the surgeon as he prepares to leave for town with Mara. The surgeon has Thomas pin Adrian against the table while they reset his legs. Thomas comments primarily on how weak Adrian is, and he ruminates on his guilt about how easy this is to do. He is deeply uncomfortable with it, and he reflects on it through different lenses: Grace, Adrian, his sisters, Mara, his father. His comments about himself are limited to brief judgements, questions, and so on.

For example, the passage beginning with “The look on Grace’s face when she had laid her eyes upon him” and ending with the repetition of “It was so bad” gives a good image of how Thomas processes. He judges himself through questions he frames with critical distance (“How does any reasonable person even let that happen”). This distance makes him read distinctly from Grace.

This entire scene is probably cut, I haven’t made a decision. The reflection is useful, but does this open act 2? I don’t know. EIther way though, that’s why these are “character sketches” not scenes?

Scene 2.1.1: Thomas Reflects (Draft)

In the days since Adrian had returned a notable shift in the energy around the family’s table had cemented itself, its uncomfortable tendrils expounding themselves into every corner of the house, seeping through as an undercurrent of every interaction.

No matter how he had tried to remove the sight of it from his mind, he could not. Had he really been out in the barn the whole time? Is that what Dad had been doing out there, instead of any of the hundred things that were neglected in Adrian’s absence? Thomas rotated this idea in his brain, a seemingly never-ending loop of rumination.

The look on Grace’s face when she had laid her eyes upon him. Her immediate repulsion. Her thick lips fell open, her chaffed knuckles gripping the near lifeless form of his younger brother, tighter than the death grip she already clung to him with. For a split second, he thought Adrian to be dead, his battered body barely moving as Grace pulled him desperately into the dining room, unresponsive. Yet, Grace had still spoken softly into his ear occasionally, her frantic voice making only a surface level attempt at calm. He could tell she knew Adrian knew how bad this was. At this point her reassurance to him focused more on being nearly done moving. That they’d move him and then he could rest.

He recalled leaping at the first sound of her scream for help, Mara close behind. The sight of Adrian. The black, blue and red beaten around his neck, like he’d be hanged. Or strangled. Probably both.

How does that even happen? How does any reasonable person even let that happen? It was bad. It was so bad. It was so bad.

And Grace’s face.

Her disgust, her fear.

At him.

She’d thought him responsible for Adrian’s state. She’d tried to flee the situation, the prevent him from re-kidnapping his own brother and imprisoning him in that barn.

And he’d had nothing to say, only denial.

She had been so determined to keep Adrian away from all of them, he thought she’d’ve taken bullet if it meant he’d’ve been safe from whatever evil she so clearly saw emanating from his person.

The thoughts of all this had plagued him since leaving her house. Grace had had Emma head into town to get the surgeon, and when they’d returned Emma had asked him to come and assist. They were resetting Adrian’s legs.

He’d been laid out on the dining room table since arriving at the house. Thomas had helped by holding his brother down while both of his legs were rebroken and forced into a position that would allow them to heal. The surgeon had insisted that this was necessary. There was no other way.

While he’d been glad to be able to so something for the situation, that it had been that unsettled him. Was he really only good for keeping others in place?

Grace was not physically strong enough and was somewhat unsuccessful using her words to stop him moving, kicking, trying to lift himself, no doubt a response to the undoubtedly intense pain that he was certainly in. He remembered trying to get in from the side around Grace, who had perched herself right near his face and yet still felt cold to him.

He tried to cut her some slack. She was so focused on Adrian, his emotion, his pain, it was that that had made her like this. It wasn’t intentional. And to lose her primary support with him being gone. All of this must have been so much more difficult for her than it was for him. Or even the girls, for what it was worth.

Fuck. The girls. He hadn’t told them. Trying to push the thought from his mind. Get it out. Forget. Now. He thought. Where was he.

Getting in from the side. Grace was in the way. He wasn’t able to get a good enough grip. Adrian’s hoarse cries out reverberated off the walls. Grace trying fruitlessly to soothe him. Closing his own eyes to avoid looking into Grace’s as she fought back her own overwhelm. He couldn’t look away from her.

The dark circles under her eyes nearly matching the deep purple the littered Adrian’s neck, the whites of her normally cheerful and wide green eyes reddened and puffed to appear thin. To her credit, she was trying desperately to hold it together. She closed her eyes each time the surgeon ordered them to brace. She’d grip his hands and try to remain gentle but her obvious fear gave her away. Maybe he didn’t notice.

During all of this Adrian didn’t speak too much. He would mumble. But then he would scream. Hearing him cry out like this was the most he’d said since getting back. Not that it could really be called speaking.

He had been lucid enough to assure Grace of Thomas’ innocence that night. It had been the only thing he’d actually said, beyond telling them where the pain was.

When he stood above Adrian’s head he recalled his brother opening his eyes slightly and tilting his head backwards, the familiar touch prompting him. He hoped it was a comfort. He’d tried to smile. Be comforting. Make him feel like it was okay. Something. Anything.

When he got a look at Adrian’s neck under the brighter daylight he’d nearly needed to excuse himself. Necrotic tissue gathered around under his chin, blood, scabs, and bruises all present against the raw underlayer the chain had exposed.

He leaned over Adrian chest and pinned him, using his arms to hold his chest down against the table. Following the fourth call to brace, Thomas mustered all his will and pressed Adrian into the table. Adrian’s weak hand gripped Thomas’ arm.

“You’re hurting me.” His broken cries louder and more strained. Grace pulls her hand away, the pressure from him crushing her fingers.

A sharp pang of guilt hit him. Thomas felt strange considering how easy it was for him to hold him in place. Here was his brother, who could push the carriage in on his own. Who could carry a hundred pound sack of flour like it was nothing. To see him reduced to this sorry state, his tense muscles fighting the even, gentle pressure Thomas applied to him but withering, his cries fading to audible gasps and sobs.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, they’re almost done. You’re okay. Stay with me.” He tries to soothe but its no use. He presses himself into Adrian again. On the surgeon’s cue, a loud crack claps the room. Thomas presses his face into Adrian’s stomach.

He feels Adrian take a deep breath, release it raggedly, and give into the pressure. His body stops moving, mercifully unconscious. He was so much weaker than he normally was. At his full strength, Thomas would not have been able to pin him in this way. He was so deteriorated, his body worn from the prolonged captivity. He had lost maybe a third of his usual weight, as he held him down Thomas felt the ridges of his ribs poking through his chest. He was bony. Dad had broken him down on purpose.

When all was finished he and the surgeon moved Adrian to a bedroom on the upper floor of the house. Grace settled him and sent Thomas away with her thanks and a copy of the surgeon’s summary.

From there he’d had no idea what to do. Mara had been such a help to get their life resorted. He’d no idea what he’d’ve done without her presence. She had gone back to the house and collected a number of Adrian’s belongings: fresh clothes, shoes, his journals, and the pillow off his bed. Once these were delivered she had also departed to start preparing for their trip back into town.

Getting away would be a relief, despite his guilt over leaving while so much uncertainty existed in their house.

Dad had yet to acknowledge Adrian’s return. Thomas had tried several times to raise the issue with him, only to be rejected. This would not be easily solved.

Returning to pack with Mara, he decide that he would withdraw some of the money from sales this upcoming week to repay Grace for her kindness over Adrian’s care. There was no way they could’ve afforded to save his leg, they’d’ve been forced to amputate or take him home and pray for healing without an infection, which would’ve been unlikely. She had saved his life. For this Thomas felt indebted. How would he even begin to repay this?