Fiction writer Ali Smith uses this exercise to help her find a story:
"Think of a person 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 [200 to 300 words is plenty] 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?"
Also, use the information from Keith Gray's, Episode 2: Characters, to help you make this character as realistic as possible.
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Here's my attempt based on one of the guys who sits outside the liquor store on Main Street near my home.
Sitting here on the street, looking at the cars going by, my bones hurt. I look into the cap I’ve got out in front of me: two quarters, a loonie, a few pennies. Man, people are really hurting nowadays. It’s mighty cold today but people aren’t being friendly, no sir! All I want is a big slug of good old Ruby Red. That’d warm my belly up good.
But, nothing doing. You know it’s hard when people won’t even look at you, sometimes. I mean, I’m not the prettiest sight in the world, I’ll admit. That fall I took last night left me with a pretty big gash on the side of my face. And I could use a shave, but hey it’s not like I can find a sink and hot water all that often.
Ah, the door of the good old LCB’s opening. “Spare change, sir. Can you spare any change?” I say, but not too loud. Say it too loud and for sure you won’t be getting any change. I can hear the coins jingling in his pocket. He’s got a big bag full of booze.
I’ve given up on him but what do you know! He turns back my way and drops a toonie into my cap. He doesn’t say anything, but I do. “God bless you. Thanks buddy!” Just another buck or two and I’m laughing.
Here's my character; a fifty year old professional birthday clown.
I stand here,in front of these people.Children sits on the floor and their guardians stand at the back wall.All are waiting attentively, on what the old man behind the thick makeup, and bright-red lipstick that projects a permanent lively smile is going to say and do.
I take the magic cards out of my pocket;they couldn't take their eyes of it. " Pick a card, you, sitting over there!" I say. Then perform the trick that I've practiced and showed off countless of times before. " Look inside your pocket," I cleverly say.
Murmurs form left and right starts to spread," How did he do it?" They ask.Claps roar inside the apartment.I hope this moment will last.
Later,when I get home, to my torn down apartment; how am I going to celebrate? She left and took them with her because a drunk clown makes them suffer.So, again, I would end up looking at their pictures, that hangs on my dusty wall.I would blow my candles and wish that they still remember, that there is a fifty year old Man, a Clown, a Husband and a Father who's celebrating his 50th birthday dinner.
Now, I hide inside this ridiculously oversized costume; they won't notice anything.
Here is drug addicts who like all the others who wanted to feel the compassion of love and be accepted.
I have a big bowl of cereal with milk this morning. I always make sure I have a big breakfast that will make me feel full the whole day.
“Do you have change; I am hungry and haven’t eaten since last night” one of the drug addicts came up and asked.
“Where is your welfare money” I simply replied, “I haven’t eaten since last night too, who is going to feed me.”
Soon after my payday, I will go on that wild joyride, and there will be another three weeks left with nothing in the pockets.
My mother is a drug addict and she left me to the foster parents. I couldn’t understand it ever since I had my memory, and refused to see her any more. The only thing I wouldn’t regret is finally to see her again and forgive her on her death bed; she died three days later in peace. I got so mad at the hospital that nobody was helping her to eat; three plates of breakfast, lunch and dinner, lined straight beside her bed, but nobody cares that she hasn’t eaten for a whole day. She became so week and couldn’t help herself to eat. I cried and that is the only time I cried in front of my mother.
“Hi, Michelle” John give me a smile “How is your day”
“Not too bad, I just ate my breakfast,” I smiled back, “my stomach is full”
I am a drug addict. Look at John, drug dealer over there in the corner, and Peter, drug addicts, they are my family, I was raised and grew up here, I feel so warm and familiar about this place; everybody all knows me. Here has my childhood memory. Except this place, the world out there is such a cold and harsh place.
303 words
Here’s my attempt to tell the story about 50ish guy from our underground parking lot, I hope u like it…^^*
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“Oh, no~ Here she comes again,” as I prepared my fishing net to go fishing. It was so quiet until she comes here.
“Hello! How are you?” she says and echoes in the parking lot, smiling on her face coming down from the stairs.
‘Oh, great~ I don’t have to answer her every single time, do I?’ thinking to myself, trying to smile and grumbling at the same time.
“I’m doing great, what about you?” said loudly, thinking this conversation would end soon.
“Are you going fishing?”
I personally don’t like her. ‘Why is she so friendly to me?’ ‘Did I do something nice to her, why?’ ‘Is it because I’m Caucasian, or what?’ ‘Her mom, too, is nice to me.’ ‘Is she pretending, or is it for real?’ ‘I hope she doesn’t ask what floor I live, or is she going to follow me to the elevator?’ ‘The Asians are weird, and I don’t understand why they pretended to be nice,’ as I think to myself, and done preparing.
‘Ok, I’m done, I’d better finish it now!”
“Yes, yes I am,” was my final answer, and hurrying off to finish the conversation, get onto my red car to get some peace and quiet.
words:205.
This guy I recently saw him everyday, but I never got a chance talk to him. I hope that one day I can.
The moment that John McCain conceded that I won the election and started calling me “Mr. President”, I wanted to give him my highest devoir. When he mentioned my grandmother in heaven, who had raised a good child, I felt the warm flow bump into my chest; there was sudden urge wanting to cry. If there was anything I could do to make my grandmother see this, I’d do it. I wanted her to witness this moment, with all my people and the whole world, the compliment from my competitor—the strongest one ever.
I stepped onto the stage, with my wife and my girls. There were strong lights covering the whole stage, I couldn’t see any people except my families. But, I could feel them applauding and cheering like they always did. I could feel that joyfulness breaking out from everybody. This moment belonged to them, after this long, tough twenty two months, after almost two hundreds years the African American struggled for all possibilities. Many people wept and I could hear it; even my own eyes were wet. There were good reasons to cry, but I didn’t want to.
I saw my wife-- my best friend and most supportive life partner. She hugged me and kissed me. There was nothing I need to say to her, except my love. Yes, this woman is as tough as me, like most African women. Those threaten calls and mails; those prevention from people for kind or rude purposes never could make her back-up. That tolerance showed up in any difficulties. I thank god gave me this woman. I kissed my lovely daughters, who certainly couldn’t understand totally what was waiting for them. They must be ready for that with the help from their mother.
I finished my speech which I’ve practiced more than thousand times. I didn’t let my emotion control it. It’s the end of my election but it’s the beginning of my new journey, for the entire America as well. There’s long way to go and the way would be tougher than I can imagine. There would be countless trammels and deterrents in front of my way, but I’m ready and more hopeful than ever.
Hey everyone! I'm most impressed with what I'm seeing here so far. Daring, risk-taking writing. And Beatrice: your doing Obama was certainly fun. The sad clown by Marc, the sympathetic portrayal of the addict by Eve, the parking lot guy from Esther; all of them worthy short pieces. Way to go!
The light is now dim. It is my turn to shine. I am wearing my most seductive pair of underwear ; men will sure drool over my looks, I am sure.
Here comes the song; the beat is taking me into the abyss.I walk towards the center of my stage and start showing everyone my moves.There is nothing special about this,really.Except that I have to lift my self up and down,swing round and round the stainless pole,and split, or maybe do a cart wheel-like a gymnast.
I hear them screaming now. " Take it off! Take it off!" They say.
But no I won't,not yet,you have to wait.
Now is the time I think. Here comes the top, and the bottom one goes as well.I hear them screaming louder and louder. They can't wait to go to the private room for their personal lap dance.
"Why are you doing this?" He
asks me.
"I have to earn a living," I say.
"But can you do something better than this? Something safe, you are worth way more than twenty five dollars."
"Just give me my money,your song is done.The dance is over."
Everyone has left.Again I am alone.
Maybe I should print out a resume and look for a job at the mall tomorrow.This job is fun,but the kid is right.
thanks for the comment, brad...^^*
When I walked in Downtown street this morning, an old man in army uniform stepped forward to greet me, and then he pinned a poppy on the collar of my jacket. His modest and sincere expression and his caring greeting touched my heart at that moment. Ok ! The character of my story that Brad gave us the assignment was found out.
An old man for commemorations
Today is the last day of my big days of this year. In the morning, wearing on my army uniform and beret, buffed up my silver medals and pinned them on the uniform, looking in the mirror, I’m so satisfied with my appearance, it seemed I went back thirty years age when I was in the army as the officer, and I feel I am much younger than my current age of seventy-five. I know today is the busiest day that I have to distribute 500 poppies which are left only. Since last week of October, I had sent out 4500 poppies in different places of Richmond Centre, Burnaby’s Metrotown, Surry City Centre and Coquitlam Centre. Today my position is in the street corner of Robson street cross Seymour Ave in Downtown. For commemorating those battlefield deaths during the war, for the special Remembrance day tomorrow, I will send my poppies among the stream of people there whole day.
I arrive at my position by driving. After parking my car, I am carrying a small and white plastic basket with a long strap slung across my shoulder. I put full of poppies in the basket and pace to my position－the street corner. Today I feel lucky in the warm of sunlight, not like the last two weeks I was busy with one hand taking the umbrella all the time.
“Hello, morning. How are you today?” I notice a young guy with a black dog coming up to me, and he didn’t wear the poppy. I stride to the front of him and give him a warm greeting. “ Can I pinned the poppy for you?” “Ok, Thanks, Grandpa.” In this way, I have empted several baskets of poppies till noon. I feel a slight tired and thirsty. I need refresh myself with a cup of hot coffee and sandwich in the coffee shop behind me.
In the coffee shop, I found most of customers wearing on my poppies except one lady in the corner, look like Chinese with matronly face. “Come on, pin the poppy for her.” I encourage myself, and come to her front.
“Hi, nice day ,isn’t it?” “yes,” she answers me with smiling. “May I pin the poppy for you?” I ask. “Sure.” She gives a clear－cut answer with a curious eyesight.
“I’m sorry to tell you that I have observed you for a long time. Your age looks like my father’s age, Are you tired? I am just wondering about this is your pay job or volunteer job?” “Oh, she asks the same question that I have heard thousands of time since I have had the volunteer job for thirty years.” I murmur in my heart.
“I treat this volunteer job as my duty. I like to commemorate those people by the way of distributing poppies, just like you wear the poppy for Remembrance day.” I say to her, and sit face to face with her.
“I am the new comer, would you please tell more about Remembrance day and poppy?”
“Oh, My god, I’m the best at this topic,” I thought. Then I recite the famous poem that created the poppy as the symbol of Remembrance day from my memory, with my slower and lower voice to begin the topic.
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place, and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead, short days ago
We lived felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders Fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high
If you break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
After finishing my extra work, I came home, very exhausted. My wife was busy in the kitchen. It was thanksgiving day. She was cooking a turkey. I kissed her and asked where our son was. She pointed at the upstairs, “Playing game in his room, I guess."
Game. This terrible thing made me angry. Since my son was addicted to it, he changed a lot. The teachers told me he couldn’t focus on his study in school, and his marks plunged. As he was at home, he was not as talkative as before. He always finished his meals very quick, and returned his room. I knew he was impatient to hold his game controllers. I needed to do something, or he was ruined for life if he kept doing this.
I went upstairs, entered into his room. He was wholly absorbed in playing his game so that he couldn’t notice I stood behind him.
“I think we need a talk.” I said to him.
“for what?” he replied, his eyes staring the screen and his fingers still moving on the controller.
“Listen, you are old enough to know what you should do as a middle school student. Don’t you feel you spend too much your time on playing those games instead of your study?”
“no.” he continued to play without a pause.
“Stop it.” I cried.
He was still playing it as he didn’t hear what I said. It really infuriated me. I snatched away the controller from his hands and threw it onto the flood. My son stood up. we both stared at each other.
“Dinner is ready.” My wife shouted from the downstairs.
Here‘s a shopaholic who is never friendly no matter how friendly a cashier or an associate is.
I have been standing in the line that seems to be endless for almost one hour just to purchase a long turtleneck sweater and blue jeans. The management must be tightfisted because they have only a few associates on such a busy day. I guess they need that money in the budget more than on a payroll.
The cashier waves her hand up so I could take the right way to her register. This line up is too long. It’s even longer than a bank line up. I realize that I am daydreaming and the cashier is now yelling instead of waving her hand. I walk over, the cashier says hi with a friendly smile, but I freeze her out because I am not here to chitchat. She always starts a conversation whenever she sees me.
Would you please stop moving your hands as though you have eggs in them and scan my things so I can get out of this store? She thanks and tells me to have a great day. Does anything bother you at all? You greeted me, I did not answer. You started a conversation, I froze you out, and now you are thanking and telling me to have great day? Standing in line for one hour is a “great day” to you, but not me!
Oh. Oh. The associate is starring at me with her brown eyes full of wonders because I’ve been standing here for more than three minutes, occupying the counter even though my transaction is done. She must be afraid to ask me to clear the counter so she can take another customer. Well, that is because I am the opposite of her friendliness. She might think I am going insane. I take my shopping bag and rush toward the exit.
299 words
Wang Cai and a New Comer
I’m Wang Cai, a five years old boy. I was not happy today because she was watching me all the time—a new comer, a girl, a little girl who has a coat with brown, black, and yellowish markings.
I don’t like strangers and strange smells, but I tried to hold myself as a good boy and I would not look her in the eyes.
From the corner of my eyes, I saw her—she was sitting there, in the hallway, quietly, looking at me. While I went to my favorite place, the soft sofa against the widow, her eyes followed my paces.
It made me crazy!
“Will she leave soon? Like some other visitors before?” I thought, but nobody visited us today.
My mum laughed at me.
“Hey, Wang Cai! My little black cat! Here is your place! Don’t be nervous! Look at your sister! What a calm and serene girl!”
“What? My sister? What does that mean?” I thought, pretending didn’t pay any attention about that.
“She’s Jin Hua, I brought her from SPCA,” she said, “I hope you will get along with her.”
I meowed as an answer and curled up beside her in the sofa. My mum kept smiling and petting my back that made me very happy and sleepy.
I decided to ignore the new comer and took a nap first in the worm afternoon.
-230 words
I walk back and forth on the platform waiting the sky train. The station is still and empty, for the rush hours haven’t arrived. After the rain, the air is fresh and the setting sun shines again. The colourful rainbow appears. The beauty of the nature makes me high.
My mother would make a favorite meal for me. Later, I’ll meet my boyfriend. The happiness always opens her arms to hug me. The golden halo shines in my life, and I hope people all over the world would be as happy as me. At this time, smile appears on my face. Surely it is; my cooperators always say that.
An old person carrying his shopping bag comes up. When our eyes met, I smile to him, for I recognized that he was my last customer at the cashier before I left. Perhaps, he couldn’t recognize me, because I’ve changed so much. The uniforms pull off, and I am in my favorite wearing. Look at my hair: the pony tail disappeared and the long hair drapes on back.
He stands still. I pace to and fro as well. Our eyes meet again, and I find a wisp of smile on his kindly face. Maybe, he remembered something. He is calm and collected, full of confidence. The setting sun makes him a perfect silhouette and a halo around it.
I wonder to know whether he has a happy life, a satisfactory family, or a lovely daughter like me. I believe he has. He isn’t like me: blithe, radiant, and happy as a lark, and the word “happy” is always on my face. However, the word is in his heart. He is a man of contented and happy-go-lucky. Although he‘s getting old, but the glow still glorious. I feel it.
While we take in the wagon, the sky train rolls on. Oh, the rainbow arc emerges in front. Oh, Gog bless us.
Mahin while counting the medications to put them in the reminder pack was talking to herself:
Weird! (Changing her accent to Italian) bizarre! What a winkling man ... oh! No! Woman! Creepy! They call them gaaayy! Oh mama, oh papa! With what ogling gesture was ordering his, whoops sorry, her prescription.
Tired of playing with words in her mind, took a deep breath and felt walking under a sunny Mediterranean bazaar:
Oh, how much I miss the figure of real men back to home. Why all western men like to be cool as a gay?! Ahhhhhhhh! He’s coming again! Look at him. I am exhausted of seeing these figures. What’s wrong with being a man? I forgot to clean my eyebrows but look at his. They are thinner than mine. Wow! what a soft hands!
She tried to hide hers when in the exchange of the pack for a moment felt his hands.
There we go. Lastly, after six gay clients, a real man with real muscles! But, wait, oh, sorry I thought he has a prescription too! Oh my God! He was his partner...I mean her partner...I ... I mean... ah. I don’t know any more what I meant. Please shut up Mahin, but I wish I never came to Canada! I said to you shut up! What I have to call them: Sir? Madam or Maybe Ms. is better! Shut up Mahin. Just do your work, stupid!
Wang Cai and a New Comer
My name is Wang Cai, a five years old boy. I was not happy today because she was watching me all the time—a new comer, a girl, a little girl who has two round green eyes, a black tail, and a beautiful coat with many brown, black, and yellowish markings.
I don’t like strangers and strange smells, but I tried to hold myself as a good boy—I didn’t even hiss her.
From the corner of my eyes, I watched her, too—she was sitting there, in the hallway, quietly, looking at me. I wanted to go to my favorite place—the sofa against the widow, so I had to pass her.
I looked down, pulled back my ears, and pressed my body and tail at the wall as possible as I can. It made me crazy!
“Will she leave soon? Like some other visitors before?” I thought, but nobody visited us today.
My mum laughed at me.
“Hey, Wang Cai! My little black cat! Here is your place! Don’t be nervous! Look at your sister! What a calm and serene girl!”
“What? My sister? What does that mean?” I thought, pretending didn’t pay any attention about that.
“She’s Jin Hua, I got her from SPCA,” she said, “I hope you will get along with her.”
I meowed as an answer and curled up beside her in the soft sofa. My mum kept smiling and petting my back that made me very happy and sleepy—I started to purr.
I decided to ignore the new comer and took a nap first in the worm afternoon.
Second draft -266 words
“Hi, good morning ev…,” the words frozen in my mouth, the things I saw really made me upset, even a bit angry when I stepped into my classroom this morning. There were only two students instead of 12 students supposed to be there.
“Hi, good morning Brad,” Catherine and Larry waved back at me. They were a couple (they claimed, but who knew and who cared.)
“Only you two guys, eh? What’s up with others?” I frowned and tried to hold my temper.
“Maybe the rain makes them late.” said Catherine looking out the window. The raindrop was beating against the windows.
“Ok, let’s wait.” I sit down on my chair and flipped some teaching materials aimlessly. As an adult learning centre teacher with over twenty years' experience, I knew that you couldn’t treat these adults in same way as treated the kids. Some of them had a lot of household chores to do before coming school; some of them were the students of part-work and part-study; some of them coming school were just for fun or for killing time. It was hard to be strict in the matter of discipline; especially, some of them even much older than me.
Later, the students are trickling into the classroom, I took my mind back from the wander. The rain stopped unnoticed, the class started.
218 words
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