Tag Archives: writing exercises

Writing Prompts: Character Creation (Edward)

11 May

I found this great little character development sheet that I’m going to use to help round out some of my characters in my novel.  (fun fact: I tried to print out 4… I ended up with 12 copies of it. Have no idea what happened. OY)


Today’s will be the second-main character in my new novel.

Edward Kempthorne – English – Youngest of 4? kids – 32 years old – lived in the U.S. since he was a teen

Optimist or Pessimist: Why? – Pessimist. Learned it from his father and losing someone he loved only increased it.

Introvert or Extrovert: Why? – He learned to keep his thoughts/feelings to himself when he was growing up (was he ridiculed when he did share, reinforcing this trait?)

Drives and Motivations: He wants to make a difference in the world – not sell (WHAT?) like his father does/expected him to. He wants to make his family proud. Doing what’s right.

Talents: Reading people, (add to this!)

Extremely skilled at: writing speeches?

Extremely unskilled at:

Good Characteristics: honest, hard-worker, direct

Character Flaws: stubborn, lacks confidence in himself(?), resistant to change

Mannerisms: subtle


Biggest Regret: that he put his job above his family one fateful day

Minor Regrets: that he hasn’t married yet, he’s never _____, bitter words that never should have been spoken

Biggest Accomplishments: getting into the “Academy” to become a cop

Minor Accomplishments:

Character’s darkest secret: Hmmmmm

Does anyone else know? :  not yet

If yes, did character tell them? either straight out he does, or in a round-about way…

If no, how did they find out?


So obviously I’ve got more figuring out to do for Edward but I have fallen in love with him already.  I love that he’s English and is a searching, broken soul. His search through the darkness for truth and light will be interesting to write.


Writing prompt – Character Fidgets

20 Apr

I got today’s writing prompt from What is a Plot. Think about your main character’s fidget. What do they do as a tell? Write a scene.


As she waited for her mother, Amelia opened her book, eager to know what happened next to Esmeralda. She got so wrapped up in the world of old-time Paris that she didn’t hear the front door open, admitting her mother. The heavy footfall coming closer pulled her out of it just in time to slam the book shut and sit properly, the book getting shoved on a side table.

“I’m glad to see that you managed to be presentable today. And where you ought to be.” The sarcasm dripped from her mother as the tall woman eyed her daughter with criticism. “Although why you can’t be like Mrs. Smark’s daughter, I’ve no idea. You could learn a lot from that girl if you’d only take the time. What a relief it would be to have a daughter that I could take out in society.”

“Yes, Mother.” Amelia clenched her hands between her knees, hoping this interview with her mother would end soon. It was always a trial to sit still and silent during these. Her mother paused just long enough for her response and then set off again about her ideas of proper etiquette. Many minutes went by as she expounded on this pet subject of hers, during which Amelia flexed and relaxed her hands in response to particularly cutting remarks, until a knock at the door indicated the arrival of Amelia’s piano teacher.

“For goodness sake, Amelia, stop ruining your skirt like that – you’ve wrinkled it dreadfully.” Her mother’s comment brought Amelia’s gaze to her skirt and she tried to smooth out the wrinkles she’d created, but they refused to budge. Much like the knot in her stomach.

“I don’t know why you do such a thing. You really should get over it, a lady putting her hands between her knees is unheard of.” With that, her mother rose to greet the piano teacher coming into the room.

Amelia sighed and flexed her fingers to get the blood moving in them again. She’d make sure and do some extra scales this morning to help limber them up.

~I do very little editing on these writing prompts. I prefer to use them more to practice and get the creative juices flowing. 



Writing Prompt – Character Development

24 Feb

While I was feeling very uninspired to write a blog post (the couch and netflix sounding much more interesting), I remembered I’d downloaded a sweet little ebook filled with writing prompts that help in moving my novel along. So here’s to completing two tasks in one swoop : blog post and working on my book.


The prompt I’m going to do is all about finding out what is missing in my hero. And how has it changed them, pushing them out of their comfort zone and into the special world of the story?  How has that missing thing left them broken? “Your hero’s flaw lies in that broken place”

Georgia is my MC (main character).  What I’m thinking so far is that it’s a broken heart/lacking purpose in her life. It’s kind of a combo problem because the person she fell in love with – years ago – was the one to make her look past her ‘perfect’ life and start searching for a purpose, a passion. She became more settled, less frivolous of a person as she sought to better herself and her life. For years though, she’s pushed the restlessness, the emptiness, aside and buried it deep. But it’s about to intrude on her life in a way that she won’t be able to ignore it anymore.

Having that emptiness, that pain, has spoiled  all her childish dreams for her future. She must let them go in order to seek the remedy for her broken heart. She’s going to have to disappoint those she holds most dear if she wants to find her purpose. She comes to realize that she can’t stay in the same routine she’s been in if she wants to be fulfilled.

I think she’s always been broken. The way she was raised was very…hmm, one could say, lacking in the most important things in life. She was taught that what’s on the outside is what matters. And that maintaining ones social standing is the most important thing, no matter really what you have to do to get there.

Does this mean she has a hard time looking past others’ appearance, and seeing into who they truly are?  Or that, even when she’s broken out of that world, and into the special world, that she still sees people based on their social standing?

I think I’m going to have to mull over how her flaw ties into that broken place….and how to work it into my plot board.


writing prompt – Promises

17 Feb

Hi friends, today’s writing prompt is “I’ve lost count of the promises I’ve broken for you” – it is a bit darker than what I normally write. I’m trying to get out of my comfort zone a little with some of these. Because happy stories are easier to write. But, growth is necessary! So, here we go.


“I’ve lost count of the promises I’ve broken for you.”

“What? I would never ask you to break you word!” He sounded disgusted that I would even suggest it.

“No. You wouldn’t ask me to. You just know I will. Because you come first – no matter what, right? I don’t even have a life outside of you anymore.” My words were bitter but I couldn’t stop them – I didn’t want to stop them. This had been coming for a long time. Years, in fact. But this latest scene was one I couldn’t put up with. It was the last straw. He looked at me with a broken expression.

“I love you, Merry. You love me. We’re supposed to be there for each other. You want a life away from me?”

I steeled myself against the pain in his voice. It wasn’t real. I knew it wasn’t real. He was the best manipulator I’d ever seen. I mean, he’d kept me tied to him for the past ten years, hadn’t he?

“I don’t know what love is. I don’t think you do either. When was the last time you were there for me, anyway?” I wrapped my arms around myself as he came closer, putting his hand on my arm.

“I was there that time you broke your collarbone, remember babe? I took you to the hospital and stayed with you the whole time.” I nodded in remembrance. He’d broken it in one of his rages. I didn’t say anything about that though, just took a step back out of his reach.

“You’re possessive and I’m your lapdog. I come every time you call. I can’t take it anymore Frank. I just can’t.” My  voice broke and I rubbed my forehead, wishing this was already over.

If I had been watching, I would have seen the look in his eyes. I knew better than to close my eyes when he was in the same room – I’d learned that in the first six months.  The back of his hand caught my cheekbone, snapping my head to the side. I caught myself on the side table, waiting for the next blow. When it didn’t come, I turned.  Frank had sat on the sofa, his head in his hands. I slowly reached for my phone, keeping an eye on him. I hit speed dial 6, and wrapped my hand around the other item in my jacket pocket. As I waited, the shakes started. His forced sobs filled the room and I knew I was supposed to go comfort him. Apologize. But I couldn’t do it – wasn’t I supposed to be breaking free from him? Instead, I spoke the words I’d practiced hundreds of times, through chattering teeth.

“It’s over, Frank. Your lying and manipulating days are over. I’m leaving.” 

He stood up in a rage but stopped when he saw the gun in my hand. I held it straight at his heart, calmly, as if my own heart wasn’t pounding so hard I was sure he’d hear it. “Put that thing down, babe. You’re gonna hurt somebody.” His wheedling tone belied his stress. And I exulted in it.

“The only one who’ll get hurt is you, if you get any closer to me.” I willed the doorbell to ring, the gun was already starting to get heavy. 

Frank side-stepped toward me with his hands outstretched, “Give it to me. Now.” His tone was hard.

Before I even thought about it, I shot him in the knee. He fell instantly, yelling in pain.  Just as he lunged for me, the front door burst open and salvation arrived in the form of a new friend of mine – a police officer and her partner. 

“Babe, tell them it’s just a misunderstanding.” He ordered me to lie, still not considering that I wouldn’t do it. His control over me had been complete. But no longer. 

I smiled. “I told you, I won’t break any more promises for you. And I promised myself I’d see you dead, or in jail. Take your pick.”



Come back  next week for a review on Eight Cousins by Louisa May Alcott.



Writing Prompt – Deamon the Villain

24 Jan

“What are you doing here?” Daemon spewed the question out of the side of his mouth, the anger and disgust evident. If circumstances were different, he’d sideline the Hero, so that maybe he’d finally learn to stop interfering. But as it was, Daemon had to satisfy himself with a distracted question and turning his back on him. Far worse things were in the dark parking garage with him right now. He could deal with the Hero later.  He cast about, looking for the fiend who had lured him here. The cover of night made it easy for one such as him to hide. But he quickly remembered that it was to his advantage as well and took cover next to a pillar, pulling his long black coat around himself.  To his dismay, the Hero followed him. The insufferable guy slid next to him, his gray clothes melting into the darkness. 



“Get out of here. I don’t have time to deal with you.” The side of his mouth twitched in irritation.

“I’m here to help.” The Hero’s voice was quiet and solid, not a waver of fear in it. Despite himself, Daemon felt a flicker of admiration for his long-time nemesis. Disgusted at the emotion, he jerked his collar high around his neck and checked that the safety was off on his gun. Once again, his eyes searched the darkness, sure that at any moment…

“Daemon. Come out, come out wherever you are.” The voice was alluring and dangerous yet deep inside, Daemon wished he could do as the dark voice asked.  He felt the Hero move from his side, but kept his eyes in front of him  – the Shadow would have to move eventually. “Daemon – I don’t like waiting. Come out here where I can see you. There’s no use hiding, I’ll find you eventually. Let’s get this over with, shall we?” 

The voice slithered inside him, planting doubt that he’d make it out of this alive. Daemon silently made his way to the next pillar, hiding behind parked cars as he moved. From the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of the Hero on the other side of the parking garage. Desperate to get a better fix on where the Shadow was hiding, he screwed up his courage and hollered into the night ,

“What do you want with me?”

A low cackle filled the cavernous space, “You know exactly why I’m here. Don’t toy with me, pathetic worm. You haven’t dealt with that Hero like you were supposed to. So.” The voice dropped to a low pitch, so full of malevolence that even Daemon shivered. “You will die. And then he will die.” 

He brought the gun up, ready to shoot the first movement he saw, even knowing the bullet wouldn’t harm his opponent. Instead, a loud crashing noise followed by a startled grunt rent the air. Daemon ran towards it, dodging cars and concrete dividers as he went. The noise of the fight ended in a sharp, angry scream and Daemon slid to a halt as the Shadow fell to his knees. The Hero stood nearby, doubled over.  The hilt of a knife protruded from the Shadow’s stomach, all black with a red stone set in the pommel. Before Daemon could react, the Shadow fell in a dead heap, stabbed by the only weapon that could kill one such as him. 

The Hero turned. And instead of the obnoxious joke that Daemon was certain he would make, the Hero’s face was contorted, and he too fell to his knees. Daemon laid the Hero on his back, his hand beneath his head. The Hero’s blood covered him now but there was no victory in it for him.

“You pulled the Shadow’s knife from your gut? That was suicide!” Daemon’s heavy voice registered shock as he realized what had happened. 

“He was…going to kill…you.” The Hero gasped and coughed. 

“But…that would’ve done it for you. No more villain to your hero.”

“There’s more to.. you than…you know.”

Daemon snorted in derision, sure that the Hero had lost any sense he’d had. He looked over at the Shadow, laying in folds of black fabric, a ghastly look on his face. “That was the only way to kill him, you know. That knife. To kill such a creature…” Daemon shook his head, relieved and confused all at the same time. 

“You are…reborn, Daemon.The darkness will not… haunt you anymore.” With his last breath, the Hero blessed his enemy. And Daemon stayed on his knees, cradling the one whom he’d hated for all his life.


Today’s writing prompt was ‘The Hero dies for the Villain’. But I thought it would kind of spoil things if I told you that beforehand.

I hope you enjoyed this sad little short story! I’m plotting away on my book and I can’t wait to start writing it! By the  way, have I mentioned how much I’m loving The Writer’s Journey by Christopher Vogler? Definite recommend, there.

Anyhow, come back on Thursday for this month’s book review! Thanks for stopping by, let me know if you’ve got any writing prompt ideas, or even places to find cool ones online!


Short Story Sharing – Tea for Two

6 Jan

It’s time for a short story again! I decided to try and write something a little different than I normally do  (it’s so much easier to write happy things, isn’t it?) , but it still isn’t what I was originally thinking it would be. It’s interesting how the writer isn’t really the one in charge of the story. I hope you enjoy anyway.

Prompt: write about a conversation that’s had over a cup of tea. Is it sinister? Devastating news? Meeting someone they’ve longed to?


The small table had been set to the nines. The tiered serving plates were filled with tea sandwiches, cookies and truffles. A small bouquet lent its color and fragrance while the china boasted its fine craftsmanship. Golden spoons rested on white napkins. Teacups sat atop their saucers, and the small teapot sat full of golden liquid, steam rising from the spout. Nothing had been overlooked for this tete a tete. The old man stepped back to survey his handiwork and a crooked smile covered his face. Pleased with his results, he took off the flowered apron and hung it gently on its hook. Noticing that his visitor was due to arrive any minute, he shuffled down the hall to the bedroom to change his shirt.

At the chiming of the bell, he made his way to the front door to welcome the young woman who stood impatiently on the other side. She paused when she saw the table, set so elaborately, that he had to encourage her to sit down while he served.  He could tell she was nervous, but he didn’t comment, he simply poured the tea and motioned toward the tower of treats within easy reach. Her long fingers plucked a truffle off the plate and nibbled it.

“These are delicious.” Her comment came without thought, the taste so surprised her that she momentarily forgot her vow of stubborn silence.

The old man bobbed his head, “I’m glad you like them. There’s a little chocolate shop around the corner. We’ll have to go, next time.”

At that, the young woman’s smile disappeared. “I don’t think so.”

“We don’t have to. I’m happy to get some more. It’s one of my favorite places to -”

“No. I mean. I mean, there won’t be a next time, George.”

The words, so softly spoken, still pierced his heart so sharp that he hunched over and all his spirit seemed to leave him.

“He doesn’t like you coming, does he.”

Despite her decision to be brave, a tear slid down her cheek as she shook her head. “He only let me come to tell you I won’t be back.”

George nodded and sighed heavily, his shoulders rising and falling slowly. “I can’t very well blame him. Well, let’s enjoy this time we have then.” With a visible show of effort, he raised himself up again and picked up his teacup, holding it out in a toast, “To times to be remembered, to people to be embraced and to love, that knows nothing of jealousy or hate.”

In that moment, the young woman realized how much she hadn’t seen before, in her past visits to this small house, the visits where she’d sat quietly, letting him tell her about his life and long-dead wife. He’d ask her questions and she’d give him the tiniest details in return, not really sure she wanted him in her life. But now, as it was all coming to an end she realized that the man who lived in it, the man that she’d never get to know fully as her father – was the richest man in town.

Have you had a fancy tea laid out for you? I’d love to hear about it! Have a happy weekend!




Writing Short- Refusal

22 Nov

Hello lovely readers! I’m here at my parents on vacation AND am still trying to write sufficiently enough for nanowrimo! But before the real craziness begins, I wanted to share a writing prompt that I did the other day, when my brain refused to work on my novel. (yes, that’s a normal problem for us writers!!)


“I want the part of you that you refuse to give”

I don’t understand why you’ve held back from me, after all this time and all we’ve been through, you hold yourself apart, as if that side of you isn’t there. you laugh and you live and yet, behind your eyes, i see that it’s all an echo. Deep within, there is a part of you that you’ve hidden.  But you can never forget it, and I know it’s there. I try to draw you out; show you that you can trust me with that part of you; but you refuse to see. you refuse to let it out. Will i be able to live with the part that you’re willing to give? or will the knowledge that you’re holding something back – something that is so important to who you are, ruin what we have? 


So long ago we met. So long ago we told each other the stories of our lives. I told you about my adventures and you told me yours. but when i added them up, yours were short. I brought them to you one day and asked you, what happened to those years, those years you left out of the telling? you turned away and said they didn’t matter- they didn’t happen. I didn’t press, but when you cried the whole night through, i held you close. Our lives are everything we dreamed of now, we’ve come so far from that ramshackle apartment but still, every year, you dissolve in tears. and i hold you close.  it’s coming once again, i can see it building in your eyes – the pain, disbelief, denial and despair. You turn from me, fleeing to your sanctuary. Every other time, I let you leave. but now, I ask you why? why every year do we go through this?  I need to understand.  



fine. if you won’t give it to me – i’ll take it. 


~ I just couldn’t help myself, I had to keep writing until the words stopped! I really wanted one to turn out happy, but well, I think they got progressively worse (/creepy)!

Hope you have a fantastic day,


The First Week of Nanowrimo – 2016

4 Nov

I sat down this morning to get to work on my novel, but of course, one has to check all the mandatory sites first – Facebook, Goodreads, Pinterest, when it  hit me – Today’s post hasn’t been written! In other words, this is going to be short and sweet.


making some goat milk in the background, got the diffuser going, peppermint mocha and pain pills – yep it’s time to write!

I started Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month)  on the first of November. For a super short explanation, it’s when a bunch of writers (and wanna-be’s) dedicate themselves to writing 50,000 words in one month, ending up with a novel at the end of it.

This is my fourth year doing it- although I am doing it a bit differently. Since I finished my novel in September (yaaay!), I am using this year to help me edit the thing! For me this means – filling in holes, fixing plot issues, straight-up editing, etc. Which, makes doing a word count a little challenging.  So, I am doing a rough- track of the words I write and edit.

In week one,

Edited: 7,413

Wrote: 1,257

I’m feeling pretty good about those numbers since it’s really only been three days since Nano started! In total, I’ve edited over 2k words, when I started the beginning of October. So I’m doing a little happy dance before I get back to work.

I am going to be doing weekly updates this month, but don’t worry! I’ve got a few book reviews coming up as well!

Until next week,


Short Story Sharing – The Feud Changes

7 Oct

Happy Friday! This is something that came while I was trying to write on my novel… I’ve never written Western before so, keep that in mind. But I did have fun with it. Hope you enjoy.


“I take it you know me.”  His thumbs looped in his pockets, he leaned against the railing, ignoring the gun trained at his chest.

“Yer not welcome here.”

“That there was a dead giveaway.” He nodded at the gun, starting to shake from being held so long. “No need for it though. Just here to talk.”

“When have ya wanted to talk?” The voice still sounded rough, as if it wasn’t used much. He tried to distinguish just who he was talking to but the shadows and grime made it hard to tell.

“Never. But we’ve got ourselves a situation. One that bullets won’t fix.” He paused, watching the barrel steady, as if the holder adjusted their hold. “Well, bullets betwixt us won’t help. I figure we team up against them thieves so’s we keep our lives – and land.”

Finally the barrel lowered. He let out a bit of the breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding. The Shoman clan was known to be trigger-happy, shooting a man just for being alive. To come right up to the door like this was just asking to be shot. But he’d learned a long time ago that risks had to be taken sometimes.

Out of the shadows, a weathered hat and matted beard appeared for a stream of tobacco to shoot past him into the dirt below. “Ya want me ta trust you? A Hayden?”

It was said as a dirty word and Garrett Hayden clenched his jaw and fists, aching to take the old man down a peg or two. The hair on the back of his neck rose and instinct had him taking cover behind the wood pile to his right. He turned as he rolled, reaching for his pistol.

“Hayden! Yer a dead man, comin’ on our land!” Garrett scanned the line of trees for the back-shooter, keeping an eye on the old timer still on the porch. This time the voice was higher-pitched, but colder.

“Ya see, son, we aren’t the type ta trust a Hayden.” The old timer sat on a three-legged stool with his rifle across his lap and lit his pipe.

“I ain’t your son, pappy. I also ain’t asking you to trust me. Just to hear me out.” Garrett felt the sweat run down his back as he squatted, careful not sit too low and connect with his spurs. He made sure his voice carried across the clearing to the still-hidden shooter in the trees.

“Talk then!” Once again the voice squeaked on the end of the word and Garrett couldn’t help the chuckle that parted his lips.

“Don’t let Mack hear ya laugh – ya won’t be around long enough ta talk.” This time the old-timer’s voice was quiet, meant only for Garrett’s ears. Squinting at him, Garrett tried to remember hearing about a ‘Mack’ in all his tangles with this low-down family. Giving up on placing him, Garrett shifted.

“I ain’t talking like this. Either you come out or – ”

“Aw, Mack just come on and bring those rabbits. I’m half starved.”

“But, Pappy, Hayden’s – ”

“MACK!” Even Garrett jumped at the suddenness of Pappy’s yell. If he hadn’t seen Mack appear from behind a huge trunk, he wouldn’t have believed it.

“Mack’s as quiet as an Indian in them woods.” Once again Pappy’s voice was quiet and Garrett slowly stood, sizing up Mack holding a rifle in one hand and three rabbits in the other. The teen eyed him just as warily, taking in his height and the width of his shoulders with a twitch of his mouth.

“Hayden.” Once again the sneer was in the word but coming from a kid was more than Garrett could take.

“It’s Garrett.” He snapped.

Pappy nodded and kept smoking his pipe,”Garrett, ya’v got a plan to keep them varmints  off our land?”

Garrett sighed and wondered if this was worth it. Getting looked at as if he were some filthy no-good was getting tiring. What he’d like to do was leave them to their own, and if they got killed, what problem was that for him? Even as he thought it, he cleared his throat.

“As I see it, they’re gonna sweep through here with nary a thought to killing us. That is, if we don’t band together.”

“We’ll barricade in our house then, take em out one at a time.” Mack’s confidence brought Pappy’s chin up a little.

Garrett eyed the shack that looked like it’d been decaying for years. “Your house wouldn’t survive.” Before either could react, he continued, “Neither would mine. We’ve gotta meet ’em where they are. Catch ’em off guard.”

Pappy puffed on his pipe, his eyes squinting into the trees. “When?”


Pappy nodded once and pulled a pipe from a bucket behind him, offering it to Garrett. “Mack, call the boys in and cook them rabbits. We’re goin’ hunting tonight.”

The gleam in the old timer’s eye gave Garrett hope that they’d come through this alive.

But as men started trickling in, he knew he had to ask the question burning in his gut before too many got there. “You up for this?” When Pappy started, Garrett held his hand up. “That shakin’ don’t stop just cause you put a gun in your hand.”

Pappy sighed and tapped his pipe in his palm. “Notice that, did ya?”

“I tend to notice the barrel that’s shakin’ in my direction.”

“Don’t tell the boys.”

“It’s not mine to tell. Can you shoot straight?” Garrett kept his relaxed pose, careful not to twitch even his thumb in the direction of his gun. At Pappy’ nod, he  was glad that the old timer hadn’t gotten hot around the collar about being found out. He was dangerously outnumbered, alone against the whole clan. As if Pappy had heard his thoughts, he asked the question Garrett had dreaded.

“Where’s the rest of yer clan?”


Pappy slowly nodded, “The boys won’t know. Not from me.”

“‘Preciate that, Pappy.”

By this time, more than a dozen men had appeared from the woods and gathered around the fire, alternating between harassing Mack and sending Garrett hate-filled glances.

“It’s gonna be a long night.”  He puffed on his pipe, wondering if he’d end up dead by morning.

“That it is, son. Let’s hope yer plan works.”




Character Development – Amelia

13 Sep

I just found this site that has writing prompts, and I’m excited to find this section, as I’m realizing that creating backstory for my characters is something I need to work on. There are six areas, I’ll do three today and three next time!


Here’s the link again for where I got these Writing Exercises.

Developing Your Character

1) Write ten ‘factual’ statements about your character, then ten lies, then ten odd/bizarre statements.


1- She is 15

2- She loves to read

3- She longs to explore the world

4 – She can’t please her mother

5- Proper etiquette eludes her

6- She doesn’t worry over fashion statements

7- She has 3 brothers

8- She is tall

9- She hates practicing piano

10 – Favorite time of year is when her aunt visits


1- She is an impeccable dresser

2- Her mother is her best friend

3- She doesn’t have any friends

4- Her hair is straight

5- She’s an only child

6- She never wants to leave her hometown

7- Her only goal in life is to be a homemaker

8- She is fat

9- She has a close relationship with her father

10- Reading is boring to her

Odd/Bizarre –  

  I tried to fill these out, but i drew a blank

every time, so I decided to skip it. no use wasting time. Shrug.

2. Write a back-story – very important

Your character should have a back-story, because this can help you decide how s/he might behave in present situations. Here are some questions to answer about your character:

Gender: female
Race: white
Social class : middle in small town, upper in city
How many siblings: 3
Parents’ relationship: strained/polite
Neighbourhood: nice but not high class
Health/disability: healthy
Religion: ??
Level of education: ??research

Present circumstances:
Age: 15
Political views:starts having some as she gets older
Appearance: red hair, rather tall, pretty
Habits : reading,
Fears/ phobias : disappointing her aunt, not getting to travel, heights?
What s/he gets upset about :
What s/he gets excited about : the theater, good books, travel, writing
What s/he really dislikes in other people : superficiality, dishonesty
What s/he admires in others : being true to themselves, even against society

3. Give your character a few contradictory traits.

No-one is ever that straightforward:

Currently Is:

Imaginative   Apologetic    Innocent   Likeable   Loyal    Clumsy     Caring     Curious   Insecure

Dutiful    Easy Going     Graceful    Shy   Thoughtful     Trusting   Adventurous    Sensitive

Is going to be:

Determined    Responsible   Wary    Ambitious     Independent     Bold   Calm   Cautious (in relationships)



Adventurous    Loyal  Caring     Curious    Thoughtful   Likeable   Innocent    Sensitive

Imaginative   Clumsy   Insecure

And that’s it for today! Come back later in the week for the last part, if you want of course.


Blissful Scribbles

Musings through the journey of writing my first novel



Me Set Free

If Christ has set us free, why do we keep on picking up those chains

Flavia the Bibliophile

A blog about books, TV, movies, makeup, and travel!

Wordsmith Weekly

Your Inspiration Station