Writing Exercise - Tale of Two Characters

Could you do something for me?

Imagine two characters. They could be two original characters, two canon characters, two Twi characters but non-canon, two characters from a book you’re reading, or you can mix and match. You can even choose characters from your existing work.

The only catch is: you need to pick one main trade for each character, but they need to be total opposites.

If your Alice is a total do-gooder, you must have a wicked Rosalie. If your Bella is constantly clumsy, pick a Jasper who moves with such agility that people might think he’s out of this world. Your Jane Doe could be a Kleptomaniac while your John Doe is an honest police man. You see where I’m going with this, right? And maybe try something extreme, like hyper-active Alice, or suicidal Emmett (it doesn’t have to be morbid: think Marvin, the Paranoid Android (from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy)).

So what is the assignment?

Well, I’m going to give you a general situation, and then you are supposed to write a short drabble on how your characters deal with it. I want you to write this scene twice: once per character (i.e. you shouldn’t have both characters together in the scene).

The goal is to distance yourself from your characters and put yourself in other people’s shoes. I have the hardest time doing this myself, so this morning I thought that maybe y’all would like to do an exercise with me.

So how does this sound:

--> One week (due August 17)

--> One scene

--> Two yin-yang characters

--> 100+ words

Are you all ready to do this with me? Just leave your drabbles in the comments bellow, or if you want, post it somewhere else and link us so we can see how you did. It doesn’t have to be big or well written or anything, it’s just something to test your creativity.

I’ll give you two situations, but remember to choose the same one for both your characters.

Scene 1

Your character is at the supermarket. You can have them do whatever you want: they could be there hungover in search for bacon and eggs; the ladies could be PMSing and craving for chocolate; it could be general grocery shopping. The only thing is that your two characters need to be there for a similar reason. Also, there needs to be something your character absolutely needs or wants, but when they get to that thing, they see someone else (preferably a kid) walking away with the last object. How would your characters deal with the situation?

Scene 2

Your character is on the beach. It’s scorching hot and the beach is crowded. Your characters can be waiting for an outdoor shower to rinse off the salt or to cool down, but just as it’s their turn, it breaks down. They can buy themselves ice cream, but just as they’re about to eat it, someone bumps into them and they drop it to the ground. They could be waiting in line at the bar to buy bottled water, but then they see the last bottle being carried away by someone else. How would your characters deal with the situation?

You can be as liberal with the facts as you want, but the main thing is that someone is standing in their way for what they want and the question is how far your character will go for that thing. Will they give up or will they be ruthless in getting what they want?

I’ll go first:

Rosalie Hale

The irritation of the sand getting trapped between the soles of my feet and my flip flops almost trumps the scorching heat of the sun licking my shoulders. I’ve been generous with the sun-block today, but I still have a feeling I’ll turn bright red in a few hours. If only I’d remembered how tedious going to the beach is, I might have said no when Alice asked me to join her.

That annoying pixie will do anything to show off her perfect, petit body.

Not that my own body is anything to be ashamed for – far from it. I just hate the beach with a passion of an Italian lover. Seriously, the sand gets fucking everywhere, in every single crevice, and sticks there for weeks, and the salty ocean air ruins my hair. I pride myself of my golden locks, so I don’t take well to anything making it dry and damaged.

It’s finally my turn to get service at the beach bar – I’ve only been waiting for half an hour, do these people not know who I am? The young waiter behind the bar is hardly more than eighteen and I wonder if he’s even allowed to sell alcoholic beverages.

“One bottled water, no sparkles,” I order, frowning at the red haired boy.

“I’m sorry, miss, we’re all out.” He looks apologetic, but he’s still smiling, and I narrow my eyes at him in contempt.

“What do you mean, ‘we’re all out’?” I can feel the headache starting to form behind my eyes and I’m dying for some water.

“We sold the last bottle just minutes ago,” he answers, gesturing to someone behind me, finally starting to look afraid. He should be afraid. He very well might be killed in the crossfire between me and... well, him.

I look around and see a little boy walking away from the bar, the water bottle in hand. Just as I’m about to turn back to the bartender to unload my frustrations at him, I see the boy trip in the sand. He doesn’t cry or anything, but simply puts the water bottle on a nearby folding chair and bends over to tie his shoelaces.

For a second I consider the option of simply taking that water – I’ll pay the kid, of course – but decide rather to stay in the shade. I’d rather stay away from the sun if I can help it

“Maybe I can offer you something else?” the bar-boy asks, bringing my attention back to him.

I narrow my eyes at him, wondering if maybe I should make him slave over a refreshing cocktail.

“Two Coronas,” I say eventually as I sit down on a barstool. I think I’ll just let the beer mellow my irritation until Alice has returned from her body-showing.

Sookie Stackhouse

I don’t have the opportunity to go often to the beach, living in North Louisiana, but now that I’m here, I’m sure I’ll try to make a beach vacation a tradition. I know that exposing my skin to the harmful rays of the sun is maybe not the healthiest thing in the world, but hey, I don’t smoke, I don’t drink, I don’t do drugs – allowing myself to soak in the sun is the only vice I really allow myself to indulge in.

I’ve been waiting in line for the bar for a while now, but I don’t mind, as I enjoy watching people live their lives and interact with each other. Ever since I learned how to shut out the minds of other people, their lives have become so much more interesting. It’s almost like a guessing game: I’ll make up some story about their lives or connections, then open up my mind to see if it’s true. Most of the time I guess right.

“Bottle of water, please,” I say cheerfully when it’s finally my turn. The bartender doesn’t look very old – maybe about nineteen or twenty – has reddish hair and green eyes, and a few freckles across is nose and cheeks. His skin is tan – most likely from working on the beach all day – and his white cotton t-shirt is snug and cut very low, showing off his smooth pecks a little bit.

“I’m sorry, miss, but we’re all out,” he says apologetically, but his charming smile doesn’t falter.

“Oh, do you have anything else then?” I ask.

“Yeah, we have all sorts of cocktails, both alcoholic and virgin,” he says, winking at the last word.

I smile at him, and despite having mostly shut off my telepathy, I can sense his thoughts loud and clear: I flirt for tips.

He’s one of those clear broadcasters, you see.

“Alright, I think I’ll have a virgin sex on the beach,” I say, partially trying to flirt back – A girl can have some fun during her summer vacation, right? I mean, it’s not like I intend to sleep with the guy – and partially because I want to try the drink. I haven’t tried many of the cocktails, though sometimes me and the girls at Merlotte’s would experiment after hours.

“I think I can arrange that for you,” the bartender says, winking again. Even though I know that he’s only flirting to get better tips, I still feel flattered. What can I say? I’m not used to feeling desired – or not by human guys, anyway.

The bartender – Edward, I learn from his name tag – is quick enough making the drink for me, but not without showing off his bartender skills, with throwing around the bottles and flexing his muscles. He even goes as far as pretentiously wiping off the sweat off his forehead with the hem of his shirt, which shows off his perfect abs.

I am no slut, but I do appreciate the fine form of this man, and when I have my drink in hand, I end up tipping him quite generously.

As I walk away from the bar, I notice a little boy struggling with his shoelaces.

I crouch down next to him. “Hey, buddy, do you need some help?” I ask.

The boy nods shyly and I tie his laces for him, explaining the bunny ears. Afterwards he smiles and says quietly, “Thanks,” before grabbing a water bottle from a nearby folding chair and he runs away to meet his parents.

This helped me a lot to get my creative groove on and I think I'd like to try this again when I'm stuck with a chapter. I hope you all like this idea of mine and take an hour or two to complete this :)