In order to develop a unique voice in your writing, write in the “voice” of an imagined character. Here’s an exercise to help you develop that voice in your writing. Post, also, the results of your exercise in using the voice of a 13 year old narrator (one page scene in the first person) from our class exercise.
Here's an edit of Catherine's example
Here's an edit of Hiromi's example
Here's an edit of Larry's example
“Think of a person that you've noticed, but don't know—a drugstore clerk, a bus driver, a politician, a celebrity. Using the first-person, write a two-page scene that describes a moment in the life that you imagine for that person. What is he/she thinking about? What matters to him/her? What doesn't? How does his/her mind work?”—Ali Smith; short story writer from England
22 comments:
Here's Brad's version of a 13 year old narrator (himself, back in Grade 9 French class!)
******
I’m in Grade Eight and my pants are half way up my legs, above my socks. My mom says that I can’t get new ones, not yet, because I just got them. Everyone is looking at me. I know it.
Worse yet, Beth is sitting behind me. She’s the sweetest girl in the class. My mouth gets dry every time I have to talk to her. Once, last week, she squirted me with a water gun. The “Green Avenger” it’s called. It is so neat, but we’re not supposed to have one in class.
That didn’t stop her. Maybe she likes me. Maybe that’s why she squirted me. But next thing you know she’s noticed my too-short pants.
“Getting ready for the flood?”
“Um,” is all I managed to say in response.
What a loser I am. I could think of tons of things to say back to her. After, I mean, long after. Why did I have to turn all red on top of everything else?
She’s in my PE class, too, and wouldn’t you know it, next week we’re going to learn square dancing. And, we’re going to have to “swing our partner.” Well, that’s something new to worry about, but maybe I can speak to Beth then, maybe!
Today’s 30º C; I have nothing to do except reading a book in my room. Suddenly there came to my mother’s a shout.
“Catherine! It’s your phone!”
Everyone in my family, include my father, call my mom a tigress behind her back.
“It’s Larry, the short-nose boy.” She gazed at me, frowned, and handed me the phone.
Clearly, she’s not happy to see a boy’s calling.
“Hi, Larry!”
“Hi, Catherine! Do you want to go swimming this afternoon?”
“I don’t know.” I felt my Mom’s eyes like two cameras watching me.
“Come on! It will be fun! James, Hajit, and Brad will come with me, too!”
“Oh, really? Wait a minute!”
My mom grabbed the phone.
“Stay home, it’s too hot outside.”
“I’m gonna go swimming! It’s cool!”
“You’d better NOT!”
“Why? I’m already thirteen years old, why can’t I go swimming?”
“You’re too young to be wearing suits and swim with boys!”
She shouted out just like a wild animal and hung up the phone.
“I hate you!” My tears dropped down.
I would never forgive her, I swore.
To Be Young Again
I lived in this building more than ten years since my husband and I retired. A fact bothered me recently: while more and more Chinese people moved in, more and more white people moved out.
I had never seen a real Chinese except on the movie in my home country, Scotland, but now I was almost surrounded by them. Funnily, they looked like waxworks barely smiling, but quack aloud in the elevator.
Enjoying the hot-water spa beside the swimming pool, I was attracted by the half-moon hanging on the bald treetop.
Adjacent the gym, a Chinese lady is working out on the treadmill as usual. I’ve noticed her for a long time.
Her hair was as white as snow, but she was light-footed as a little swallow. If I could keep fit like her, I would never suffer the overweight any longer. 180 pounds is too much for me.
The door creaked; the lady came in.
“Hi!” She greeted me first.
“Hi.” I gave her a beck.
Pointing to the moon, she smiled, “It’s pretty!”
“Yes, it is. You are pretty, too.”
“Oh, no. I’m not pretty any more. I’m almost eighty.”
“What? Eighty? I can’t believe that!”
It was really surprised me: she was much elder than me, but looked like much younger.
“My grandson got married already.” She smiled.
“Do you work out everyday?”
“Yes, almost. I’d like to exercise and then take a bath.”
“So, you keep a good shape.”
“Thank you.”
She had an easy, good-natured manner that gave me a pleasure.
“How long do you exercise every time?”
“Around 60 minutes.”
“Oh! Were you a marathon athlete before?”
“No, never! You are kidding.” she laughed aloud like a carefree child.
“She is not young; but glowing.” I thought.
“I’d tried once before, but I can’t do it more than two minutes.” I confessed.
“You can do it! Step by step!”
“Yes, she can do it, I can do it!” The courage she cheered up me like a fresh breeze streamed into my mind.
“Oh, to be young again!”
Wow, Catherine, you've done two already!
Isn't it fun to be thirteen, is it? I like Brad's, too. Haha, cute.
Note From Matthew C.
“Got it!” Susie snapped a piece of paper off from my fingers.
“Hey!” I gasped, turned around, and chased after her in a hallway. She ran into the girl’s bathroom, laughing, and there I faced her.
“Matthew C. Oh, my,” she grinned, waving a folded note beside her ear.
It was from Matthew Coleman, all right, saying: Lindsay, Love U Forever.
My face turned red, I knew, and my breathing was heavy from the nostrils.
“Give it back to me, Susan.” I demanded.
She just gave me her evil grin and said, “You love him?”
“Hell, no!”
“He’s cute, though,” she nodded, still smiling.
“He’s short!” I exploded.
Matthew was grade eight, same as me, but looked way too young. Honestly, no one would notice him even if he sits in the grade four class. In fact, he was so tiny that his head didn’t reach my shoulders. I knew he was looking at me in some strange way recently, but why he gave me this note, saying such a weird thing was beyond me.
“It’s gonna be the best hookup of the year!” she cried.
“Shut up!’”
I flew at her, trying to grab her wrist, but she escaped. A rat! Now she was laughing hysterically, and chanting, “Lindsay loves Matthew C! Lindsay loves Matthew C!”
She burst out from the bathroom. So did I, and yelled, “NO! I DON’T LIKE HIM AT ALL!”
Guess who was standing there, just in front of me.
Matthew Coleman.
He looked up to me with the wide eyes behind his glasses. His face was frozen. And pale. Then, his lips started to tremble, and in a flash he turned around and ran away.
I stood there like a fool. God! I felt like I was the evillest person on the planet. Even eviler than Wicked Witch of West.
Hi, Hiromi:
All comment I can give out is only one word, that is, “very good” (it seems two words, eh?)
Matthew C is so brave. I don’t dare to show my love to the girls who are taller than me, even though I fall for them(ssh,don't tell Catherine.)
A funny real story, I like it!
Yes, sometimes we were embarrassed by a love note at the age of thirteen like Matthew C and “I”.
Oh, Mary
“Want to my home? I’ll show you my new skate shoes.” said John, on the way home after school.
“Sure, sure.” I nodded my head heavily, and felt my heart started racing.
John is my classmate in the grade eight. I’m always eager to go to his home, not for his shit skate shoes or whatever, but for Mary, his elder sister.
Mary is a student of grade 12 in our school. I dare to say that she is the most beautiful girl in the world.
“Gee, I forgot to buy something that my mom wanted.” John grumbled as soon as he opened the home door. “Mom reminded me ten times this morning. Gotta buy it otherwise my butts will be tortured with a lash later. Help yourself; I’ll be back soon, just at the corner of the street.” John hurried to the elevator, and left me alone.
It seemed no one was at home that made me feel very disappointed. Taking a seat, I picked up a magazine from the table and flipped. Suddenly, with some sweet smell drifting into my nostrils, I heard someone shuffled behind me. I raised my head quickly.
Oh, my God. Mary was nearly naked in front of me, like Venus. All she had put on was one piece of underwear only. Oh, my, what boobs! As big as two small hills, they were swaying slightly with the rhythm of her pace.
Mary was wiping up her long hair with a big towel. Obviously, she had just taken a shower. The long hair and big towel blocked her view so that she didn’t see me. Definitely, she thought there was nobody at home, except herself.
The things occurred before me was too surprising and incredible that made me felt dizzy, hard to breathe, and couldn’t hold the magazine firmly.
Suddenly, Mary spun around and tossed her long hair to the back. When she realized that there was a man in the room, all she did at first time was released out a shriek at the top of her lung.
I was scared to half death by such horrible shriek. What I could reflect at that time was jumped to my feet, darted to the door, and scampered off like a frightened rat.
Wow,Brad, you're very efficient. The version you corrected was my first version that only stayed here five minutes but was caught by you.
Sorry,Brad, forgot to say THANK YOU VERY MUCH! I feel a bit shame for so many mistakes in my writing; however, i learnt a lot of things from your advices. Thanks again.
Ohmigod, "nearly naked"!
I gasped!
Haha, it was fun!
Thanks Brad for working hard; I appreciate your input.
I tried another character, but it's kinda...well, I'll give it a shot anyway.
On the Icy Sidewalk
I’d been marvelling at the sight of snow from my cozy apartment for a week, but today I decided to go out. Sure, it looked cold, but I could not live like a hermit forever. Besides, I needed to fill up the prescription for arthritis.
I thought about the walker for a minute and decided against it. It would be hard to push the thing on the snow, and I was sure I would be able to handle it fine without it. So I equipped myself with a knitted cap, gloves, and a scarf. I loved the gloves; at least it prevented me from seeing brown spots on the back of my hands.
Outside was more treacherous than I thought. A mountain of snow was piled up at a corner, the sidewalk frozen solid. Once delicate snow was stomped by pedestrians and now stuck on the concrete like a thick scab. It shone ominously. Carefully I stepped forward.
Oh, it was perilous! As I walked on, I became more and more infuriated by people’s thoughtlessness. How could not they shovel their sidewalk? They lost decency, I tell you. It had been a week since the big dump of snow. A week! And they couldn’t find a time to shovel? I understood they sure had busy lives, but this was utterly unreasonable.
I glanced sideway wondering what kind of people were living in the house—it was big but ungraceful, like a wooden box—but only a cat sit on the window sill. I gave him (or her) my narrow eyes, and he yawned.
All I could do was shaking my head, and then my lubber sole slipped.
“Oh!”
I felt my body flew in the air and anticipated my hipbone collapse with a thud. I shut my eyes.
But I didn’t fall.
“Are you okay, Ma’am?”
I heard a voice behind me and felt strong arms under my armpits.
“Wow, it’s dangerous, huh?”
A young man was smiling at me bashfully. He wore long hair, and his kind eyes resembled my late husband. A silver stud was visible on his tongue, but that was all right.
“Well, thank you very much,” I managed to say.
“It sure is slippery. Would you like me to carry you to...where? Are you going to the mall?”
He extended his hands toward me. Can you believe? Needless to say, I lost a word.
“Um, it’s all right. I’ll be fine,” I said finally.
“Really? Okay, then. Be careful, though.”
He shot me another smile and started to walk on the icy sidewalk with a big stride. Watching his wide shoulders moving away, I wished I had said yes. I sighed. Well, maybe I’d drop by the pharmacy, fill my prescription, and pick a nice colour of lipstick, I thought.
“Went to see a marvellous movie yesterday evening,” I talked Emily on phone. “A gorgeous Gipsy girl marries with a handsome soldier. You’d better to see how cute the guy is!”
“You like this kind of romantic movie!”
“Not you? You told me that you cried watching ‘Casablanca’! You can sing the melody of the film.”
“You know, Sophia, life is life; film, film. That is what my Mom told me. Look at your parents and my parents. Are they really in love?”
“Of course! They do hug and kiss each time before going to work. When I was a little girl, for me, Mom used to be the most beautiful woman in the world,” the image of my mom penetrates in my mind. “It’s true that she gained some weight now and she doesn’t look as pretty as before. And she always criticizes my way of dressing. I am wondering why she’s changed so much… Yes! Yes! Sometimes, I don’t understand why my James-Bond-like daddy loves a woman like my mom.”
“My daddy and mommy argue all the time. My mommy raises her voice to shout at my poor daddy. I don’t like her way of talking. When I am married, I will be as gentle and elegant as the lady in ‘Casablanca’. You see, Sophia, Ilsa is a such beautiful woman! All the guys in the world want to marry with her!”
“Sure! Emily. Sure. My daddy might have some reasons marrying my mom. He should marry with Ilsa. By the way, can you pass me a poster of ‘Casablanca’? I am going to put it on the wall above my bed.”
The Soar
"Don't you have any ambition?"
My mom waved my midterm report card in front of my nose.
"What a miserable guy! You got fail in math and science. It's a pity, these marks follow you forevermore. Don't you know it?"
She spat out like a quick-firing gun. I couldn't hold up my head.
"Mom, I know well I should make my report card beautiful.However it's not my fault, I did my best." I lowered my voice.
"Not at all. Every night, at the desk you enjoyed MSN messenger, not studying." She grumbled.
"What a shame! I spent my bloody money for your tutoring only for these damn marks."
I bited my lips with flushed face.
"I'm sick of your nagging. You're only concerned about my marks." I shouted sharply with all my energy.
"Huh, I've devoted my whole life to helping your study. You return evil for good!"
I kept silent for a while.
"I wanna do whatever I like. Let me go to Canada for study." I asked politely.
"How can I trust you? You can't live without me."
"Why not? I'll promise, I'll get good marks there. I really want to study without stress."
"I have no money for you to study in Canada." She said coldly.
My eyes were watery.What a wretched spirit I am.
13 Year-Old Tomboy
I couldn’t agree with many restrictions that were imposed by adults when I was 13 years old. I always tried my best to reach whatever I was interested in it.
In school, hair should cut above lobes that made girl’s head looked like a peeled apple.
Hemline should make below knees that hid their beautiful legs. White shoes in summer and black shoes in winter and the unchangeable school costume caused me feel bored all the time.
As well, too many ridiculous forbidden things ruled in my family. Girls were banned to go out often except to go to school or something was very important. Talking with boys seemed like to offend heavenly rule and be looked as a serious naughty behavior. To talk back against parents would be looked as a betrayer. When you sit, two legs should close together like binding two woods. When you laugh, mouth should shut up that made you a funny face looked like a clown. Sometimes, if parents were in bad mood, punishment couldn’t be avoided if you offended their rules. Their ridiculous rules actually forced me to go out often.
However, I preferred to have my own idea and freedom, so I lied to my parents that school required extra study in both summer and winter vacation. During the vacation, I dressed up as elegantly as possible. I enjoyed talking with boys because it benefited me a lots, for boys were easy going and they taught me many things, such as, swimming, bicycling, skating. Those were my favorite activities.
Once skating or bicycling in my front yard, my ability didn’t get any compliment but I perceived as a tomboy instead.
Gee! They never realized where the tomboy learned those exercise and who taught her.
It seems that the role of mother in a family are not welcomed usually. Most time, the children stand with their dad.
--I've got the impresstion aboved after read the both writings from Helena and Rosaria. However, when the daughters become the mothers, they will do the same unwelcome things to their children, like their mothers used to do. Interesting!
Parent V Son
My mom’s yelling to me with anger even though I chose the best way. Three hours ago I met a gang at the Messy field while I was playing a basket ball with my friends. The skateboarders snapped my MP3 and cell phone from my bag, but I couldn’t resist against them. They surrounded us and pulled our bags and picked out some valuable things. Albert, stronger and taller than me, struggled with them to keep his while I let them bring mine. I didn’t want to make any serious troubles with them, twelve boys. I explained the event to my parents.
“How can you easily give it up? it’s expensive and new one, you bought it just few days ago!”
“Mon, they’re twelve, to many numbers to against…”
“I mean why you didn’t resist like Albert?”
“Mon, he’s bigger and his are old fashion, so they left his.”
“Whenever, you say like that..”
“What’s the most important thing that always said to me is health, my health, right?”
“Yes, but..”
“I did that way, what’s the problem?” my mom’s still saying something that opposite that she always said to me. Most adult used to change their words whenever they need to change for adjust their logic. Let’s leave her yelling until her anger is disappeared and her emotion calm down. I closed my eyes and dropped my face down.
“Let’s sit and explain the details.” now, my dad’s turn even thought I already fully explained everything. I had to spend more time to escape from this spot.
Dear Diary.
I am bawling my eyes out as I write this. Can you see the tear stains? Oh Diary! I have never been so humiliated in my life. My world has ended and I am only 13.
I will never set foot in that school again! Tonight was the first dance of the year. I was so stoked at the start of the night. I'm so dumb! How could I ever think that a guy like Jody Hansen would ever like me? I'm ugly, skinny, no tits. Oh God I hate myself.
When they played the first slow song I actually caught him smiling at me. I couldn't believe it. It took all my courage to walk over to that table with all those grade 12 guys and ask Jody to dance.
"Hi Jody." "Wanna dance?"
I felt every sweat gland I own start to drip. He smiled that Brad Pitt smile at me and I thought for sure I was going to pass out.
"Um, you're Stacey right?"
"Yes." I stammer.
"Sure Stace." "Let go."
Diary, I could actually feel his hand on my butt. If he were my boyfriend I would for sure give it away to him.
"I've seen you around the school Stacey, but you're not in any of my classes."
"Oh, um, I'm in Mrs.Main's T.A."
"Isn't Mrs.Main's T.A. for grade eight's?"
"Well yeah Jody." "This is my first year at Esquimalt High."
There was this look on his face diary, like he needed to puke or something. I couldn't feel his hand on my ass anymore.
"Um, Stacey?"
"Yeah?"
"Sorry to cut the dance short but I need to use the can." "Why don't you wait here and I will be right back?"
I didn't know what to say Diary. I waited there like the stupid idiot I am. Waited there for nothing!. He never came back. I knew I was going to cry so I ran to the bathroom.
You know what the worst part was though? I heard him talking to his stupid-ass friends when I came out. He didn't see me.
"Yeah, I gave the pirates dream the thrill of her life!"
"Like I would actually like a grade 8 chick?"
They all laughed. I couldn't hear all of what his friends were saying and I didn't need to.
Well Diary, I'm going to go and pray to God that one day I'll have some boobs.
Yours Truly, Stacey.
Hi, Choi:
A poor boy! His parents aren’t mature enough.
I like your story because it is true. Some time our parent’s blames are reasonless.
I think many parents don’t really know their children. Of course, they believe they do.
They force their children to do something like their parents did the same to them.
They spend all of their time and money to farce their children to learn piano, ballet, or painting (now is golf) without any will and joy. Why?
Stacey:
I like your story and your words, especially “My world has ended”. Indeed, we often thought like that when we were young, didn’t we?
It is true that we liked handsome boys with “Brad Pitt smile”, and “grade 12 guys” were more attractive for us.
“If he were my boyfriend I would for sure give it away to him”. Aha, a real hot girl!
I also like the way telling story by a diary.
Suzanne:
Your character is a very interesting girl. It is better if you can use present time.
Hiromi:
“On the Icy Sidewalk” is a very interesting story.
Especially, you do show your characters by many clues: the prescription, arthritis, the walker, brown spots, Ma’am, Lipstick, a silver stud, a big stride, and wide shoulders.
I also like “a cat sit on the window”; the picture is lovely.
Helena:
My sisters and I had suggested my father to find another good mother for us when we were teens, really.
Rosaria:
Your characters are exactly like many Chinese parents. They concern children’s report more than anything. Does report really mean everything?
Hi, Suzanne: you are very good at using simile. I like some of them in your writing, for instance:
“In school, hair should cut above lobes that made girl’s head looked like a peeled apple.” “When you laugh, mouth should shut up that made you a funny face looked like a clown,” etc. As a Chinese, I understand the background you mentioned very well, but I think it’s not easy to understand for the western people. On the other hand, I guess that you didn’t precisely catch what Brad wanted us to do. In my understanding, Brad hoped us to write an event that happened at the age of thirteen.
Hi, Choi: What a smart boy! Only fool would fight with the rival who is much stronger or they are greater in number, like Hussein fought with W. George Bush. I couldn’t help to have a lot of sympathy with poor boy when it came to “now, my dad’s turn even thought I already fully explained everything.”
Hi, Stacey: That poor girl Stacey is totally different from my classmate Stacey, no matter the appearance or personality. So, I’m sure they are not same person. Your story is not only interesting, but also shows a big culture difference between western and Chinese. In Chinese culture, just like what Suzanne mentioned above in her writing “Talking with boys seemed like to offend heavenly rule and be looked as a serious naughty behavior.” So, I barely had a talk with girls during my whole period of teen age. Can you imagine that? What? Dancing with girls and put hands on their butt? If I did so, I would be killed. That was why i decided to immigrate to Canada.
Hi, everyone.
I know it's too late to post...
Since I had moved on to Grade
Eight, my parents has started controlling me. I’m really annoyed with them. They treat my sister as a princess—I feel I’m like her maid. One hour ago, I was terribly mad with my dad.
“ Can you go to the grocery store? I need a carton of eggs for custard pudding.”
My mom came to the living room and asked to me.
“ No kidding, my favourite TV show will start soon.” I grabbed the remote control and turned on the TV.
“I’m telling you. I need them right now,” she demanded to me, but I ignored her because she is making it for my sister, Grace.
“Listen to your mom! Got it?” Shouting, my dad suddenly appeared and turned off the TV.”
“Come on Dad! Don’t force me what to do! Why don’t you ask Grace this time? Unfair!
She’s your daughter, too, right?”
“Don’t be a little girl, Julia. You know how busy Grace is. She’s studying every day--harder than you. Besides, you’re the youngest…”
“So what? If you don’t want to ask her, then you should go!” I screamed.
Dad stared at me with a stern face. I dashed to my bedroom and slammed the door. Sitting on the bed, I thought of my grand pa who always loves me.
Now, I’m going to my grand pa’s home and tell him to punish my dad for not caring about me.
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