Thanks for sharing! I’m glad this exercise helped. It’s really eye-opening when we imagine how different a scene can be felt, experienced, seen, and more depending on who we see it through. No matter what happens, even if you wrote the same moment from three different POVs, the story would be different. There’s always the bias and backstory and different thought processes and feelings each character comes to the table with.
On a side note, I’ll admit I wasn’t quite certain who was speaking in the second scene. Maybe the formatting was off? It seemed like Carl made those terrible comments, but then I couldn’t tell if actually it was Brandon and Carl was mad at Brandon for saying it, or if I was misreading.
Thanks for sharing!
Alice paused and jerked her hand back from the door handle as it could burn her. Of course, it didn’t. It was cold as the January icicles reflecting the streetlights above the entrance. She shuddered. She could walk away and forget her New Year’s resolutions like she always did. And lose her bet with Brandon? No way!
She marched inside the gym, straight to a room with various weights. The clings of metal of metal and panting of a dozen males stopped her next step. The sounds and the odor of the sweating bodies, all enveloped in the dimmed light, reminded her of some pervert dungeons. Lordy, was she insane?
If Brandon didn’t wave to her, she’d be already out of there. “Alice, meet Carl. He’ll be your training partner.”
What? That Hercules? But she only bet to lose a few pounds not to be swallowed by this giant. Or pressed down to a mattress. Although that she wouldn’t mind. Now she shuddered from heat. Lordy, she was truly insane.
“Forget about that,” Carl puffed, letting the barbells fall on the floor. “I’m not going to waste my gym time on some fat chick. Your neighbor, your time. Gimme that drink.”
He choked on the water, hearing Brandon’s words. “Alice, meet Carl. He’ll be your training partner.” He turned, ready to kill the bastard. With one hand he’d do it, with the weaker one, just to prolong the bastard’s agony.
Or maybe not. Maybe this time, he’d save the bastard. And save his own hand for better things he might use it. It already prickled to touch the dainty chick, the fine skin above her scarf. If the rest of her body was so soft like that sample, who would have care about molding her into tough muscles? Brandon was an idiot. But Carl wasn’t. Okay, maybe just a little because when he inhaled her flowery scent, sweet and fresh and so female, the only exercise he had in mind was down on that mattress.
I love the exercise. I’m not sure if it’s deep or not but just trying to switch the perspective from one character to another gives me a pause and forces me to analyze how to show, how to build the scene. With my next revision, I’ll try to use this technique to improve my story. Thanks!
Katie McCoach, Instructor
Grow your best story!