I have this scene where I imagined the characters' stark silhouettes in black from a far POV as in " Princes et Princesses" of Michel Ocelot (1999). But I can't figure out a way to describe it, any ideas?
Thank you a lot!
Heyo!
So I'm not familiar with Princes et Princesses (though I did glance at some screenshots from it so i have a slight idea), so this may not be as helpful but I will try!
The main thing that I would think about if I were try to do this is an emphasis on shape and contrast. If you're creating a scene, you use whichever of your five senses are applicable to make it almost real. In a far back POV, no smell, taste, or physical sensation is going to travel that far, nor are most noises. So you're kinda working with sight alone. What you would pick up on then is the contrast in light between their silhouettes and the background, and the overall shape that their bodies make.
Another big thing is tone, which is going to be very dependent on your POV character - what they think back to, how they connect what they're seeing with their own life experiences. This one, I can't help you with quite as much.
Uh... idk, below I've decided to kinda take a stab at how I might begin to handle it, which you are free to use in whichever way you see fit.
She could no longer make out the details of the two figures she could only assume were lovers. Their swirling skirts and ornate headpieces were but dark shapes against the bright glow spilling out of the estate. The two shapes seemed to merge as they embraced, and then split again as they took a step back.
Hopefully this is helpful, lmk if you want something clarified :D
So @mercurygray had an idea for a Weekend Workshop and the whole point of it was to Set A Scene. To write a piece as if you’re watching a movie and to take the location and surroundings into account.
I really struggled with this and ended up with something that I’m convinced missed the point entirely, but I never know what I’lll end up with when I start writing anyway. In the end, this basically turned into preparation for something that I know I’ll have to write at one point in the future.
This is my location by the way.
The Fall
Waving at her brother as he drove off, she made her way up the pathway to the large building. There always seemed to be a flurry of activity near the entrance. Visitors that came to take their relatives outside to enjoy the sunshine and patients who were being discharged and sent back to the care of their families. Seeing the smiles and hugs always managed to tug at her heartstrings, because she had no idea when she’d be able to do the same thing. She took a deep breath to settle herself before passing through the entrance.
It was painfully obvious that the walls had been painted in colours that had been deemed calming. Yellow at the top. Green at the bottom. The hospital that one of her brothers had been in when he had broken his leg when they were children had seemed to operate on a similar principle, but those walls had been light blue instead of the two tones that they had gone for here. But not even the supposedly soothing colours could do anything about the hospital smell that seemed to waft through the corridors at all times. Antiseptic mixed in with the sweet smell of oranges that were delivered from the orchard nearby. The combination was so odd that it had made her nauseous on many occasions.
As soon as he was well enough, she’d take him outside, park him outside on the green grass so he could sit in the shade of a palm tree. Maybe peel one of those oranges for him that they had a surplus of in this place. First thing he had to do was wake up however and no one seemed to know with certainty when that would happen. If it would even happen at all.
The x-rays look good, they’d tell her. Everything is as it should be.
The doctors, both the older one and the young ones, kept offering her reassurances and even showed her the pictures that she couldn’t make heads nor tails of. The nurses with their sympathetic eyes. Even the young priest that seemed to pass by her husband’s bed more times than he did the others. Always lingering near his bed whenever she came round for a visit, pretending that he was there for different reasons. He was always merely checking up, keeping tabs on the patients, but that couldn’t possibly be part of his job description. Whenever she’d pull up a chair and sit down next to the bed, she’d sometimes catch him shaking his head and frowning. That couldn’t be a good sign, could it?
Talk to him, they’d say. The sound of your voice will do him good.
So she brought him newspapers yet again, the sinking of the Lusitania by a German submarine was very prominently featured today, but reading to him about the horrors that happened at sea was probably not what staff had in mind when they had told her to read to him. Maybe it would be better to read from the automobile section. She’d seen something about that racecar driver that he liked and a fire truck running 15 miles in 23 minutes when she had skimmed through it that morning. He’d probably like that a lot more than if she told him that a Vanderbilt was amongst the many people that had died when the Lusitania sank.
Making her way through the largely empty corridors, she reached the room that he shared with two other people that were absent at the moment. The older man in the second bed frequently wandered the halls and the man in the first bed had been on one of the benches with his family when she had entered here. The fact that he wasn’t around was a very comforting thought, because he spent most of his time complaining about how ill he was and that he was positive that he was dying when it was clear as day that there was nothing wrong with him. How he could even say such things when there were people in the hospital who were a lot worse off than him was simply mind boggling.
Picking up a wooden chair that stood near the door, she put it on the right side of his white iron framed bed. Always on the right side. Sitting down, her eyes briefly flickered to the 3 that was painted over his bed before gingerly running her hand down his arm and checking the bandages around his head. They had stopped coming away all bloody a few days ago, but she had never seen what kind of mess lay underneath. Shaking her head, she turned the pages until she found the right section, cleared her throat and started to read.
“There’s an article in here about Teddy Tetzlaff. You remember him, right? Terrible Teddy?” He was in that short movie that he liked, The Speed Kings, with that other racecar driver Earl Cooper. “Well, he went on a 1500 mile trip to Big Pine with his Maxwell 25 and got caught in a big blizzard…”
From the corner of her eye, she could see him shift on the bed next to her, but that wasn’t unusual in and of itself. He had remained passive during the first three days, but after that he had started to move. During one visit the muscles in his leg had spasmed so violently that she had screamed and had to be led out of the room by one of the nurses. They’d taken her into one of the quieter rooms and had called her brother to pick her up, because she was in no state to continue her visit. Not after seeing that.
The car ride back to the house that her brother occupied with his wife and their two kids was still burned into her memory. That was the first time that she had broken down over this. All that time she’d kept herself together, kept pushing herself to stay strong. Not just for herself but also for the man that lay in that bed and for the life that was growing inside her that she hadn’t even had a chance to tell him about yet. Surprise.
Her poor brother had taken the brunt of everything that had been on her mind, but hadn’t told anyone about until then. Listened to her scream about how she didn’t know what to do, how to cope with this, didn’t know what he would be like if he woke up, how broken he would be. That was the main issue. What would he be like if he ever came out of this? No one had been able to give her a definitive answer. The doctors who kept going on about those damn x-rays didn’t know jackshit about what state her husband would be in if he ever came to.
He’ll be fine. But how did they know? Just keep talking to him. But did he even hear her at all?
“They were warned to turn back, but Teddy decided to keep pushing on…”
She’d been about to quote his words directly as they had been printed in the paper, something about Teddy saying that it was the worst blizzard they had ever seen in the valley, but the words suddenly started swimming in front of her eyes. Without even realising it herself, she’d dropped the newspaper from her hands, the pages sliding down her lap and scattering on the floor. A pair of bright blue eyes that she hadn’t seen open for eight days were looking right at her and not just that, but they actually seemed to be registering her presence as well.
“Hey.” Reaching up to wipe at her eyes which were already stinging with tears, she then took his hand in hers and squeezed. “Hey, handsome.”
“C-C-Ca- Cath-” He swallowed hard, his voice hoarse and sounding like his throat was lined with sandpaper. “Ca-Cat-”
His throat needed moisture. That much was clear. Turning around, she wildly reached for the basin and pitcher that were always right there in the corner, but there was no cup that she could put the water in. Her eyes were drawn to the cup that was on the cabinet on the other side of the bed and it was almost a mad dash to get there fast enough. Her hands shook as she clutched to the ceramic cup tightly and when she was back where the pitcher was, she dropped the damn thing and it rolled under the bed. Swearing under her breath, she dropped down on her knees to pick it up when she suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking back up at him, he was still trying to find words which didn’t seem to be coming.
“Oh Christ.” Her eyes darted up to the crucifix that hung on the wall and said a silent prayer for using the lord’s name like that. “You had an accident.” Where he wasn’t able to find words, she had no problems and suddenly unleashed a torrent of words on him. “You… you… it was that last job of yours. Your boss told me the scaffolding wasn’t secure, the whole thing just… collapsed. You fell and hit your head. It’s… it was bad. Probably still is, but I’m not an expert. Lord, I should get the doctor. Tell them you woke up or something.”
“R-r-re-” Again he tried to search for words which weren’t coming. Squeezing his eyes shut, he took a deep breath. “Fuck.” She couldn’t help but suppress her laughter over that. Naturally that would be the word that wouldn’t cause him any problems. “Re-rel-l-ax.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Reaching for the cup, she got back to her feet and started filling it for him. “It’s just… I didn’t think you’d…”
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she held the cup to his lips and helped him drink. His right arm seemed to be fine, a bit shaky, but there was movement there as he reached for her hand to ensure that she didn’t pull the cup away before he had drained it of its contents. When she was finally allowed to pull it away, his eyes kept following her as she moved and his hand had tightened in her dress to ensure that she couldn’t get up.
“Glad you’re back.”
“C-c-co-couldn’t l-l-le-”
“I know.” He didn’t have to finish that particular sentence since it was something he regularly said. A shared joke between them. Unbeknownst to him, those words which he usually uttered without thinking about it, had turned into some kind of indication to her that maybe things weren’t as bad as she had initially thought. Maybe he would be alright. “Can I go get the doctor now?”
“N-no. S-st-stay.”
“Fine. But only for a couple of minutes, okay? They probably want to know that you’ve come round.” A brief look of annoyance crossed his features, but he kept his words to himself. Leaning into him, she pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth and pressed her forehead against his temple. “I really missed you, Chuck.”
someone’s in the hallway crying their
eyes out, you can hear it through
the walls and a door ajar.
so can everyone else beside you but
no one seems to think of
going out there to offer some comfort
or in fact any consolation at all.
someone’s in the corner shuffling
cards, someone’s in the doorway
singing prayers, someone’s in the hallway
screaming:
tonight, we are inconsolable.
Why is it so hard to describe the furniture and contents of a bedroom when setting a scene? I have a bedroom! I know what goes in one. But the moment I open up a word document and start writing it’s just like... duh... what’s a room?
So I want the story to start with a fight scene, but I kind of struggle with describing looks and surroundings... Any tips on how to include those while writing the actual fight?
Think about all six senses your character has to employ, and write down (for your own use) what each sense is registering. Besides the quickened heartbeat or the pain from a blow, think of how the place they are in feels.
Start with atmospheric elements: temperature, air movement, smell, etc. What are the different sounds and smells of being indoors? If they’re outdoors, what’s the weather like and depending on the time of year? How will these elements affect the characters in their fight?
Move on to physical elements: furniture, foilage, rocks, walls, etc. What objects would get in the way of a fight depending on the setting? Which objects could potentially be used offensively/defensively? Is there something someone might be thrown against like a concrete floor, tree, or large boulder? Are there objects big enough to climb on when seeking higher ground? Does anybody cheat and throw dirt in someone’s face?
Consider personal physical elements: clothing, grooming, health, etc. If it’s cold, is heavy outerwear going to impair their fighting ability? Do their shoes lack grip on a slippery surface? Does the wind blow their hair in their face or a bright light obscure their vision? Does the temperature flare up a preexisting injury, or does stirred up dust cause them to sneeze mid-fight?
Finally, determine the risk factors in the environment: sheer drops, fire, bodies of water, etc. Are the characters fighting in a stairwell, on the edge of a cliff, or near a deep mudpit? Are alarms going off because the spaceship is about to explode or the building is on fire? Maybe a vat of toxic waste or bubbling chemicals is nearby, and has been hazardously left open?
For a fight, it’s unnecessary to go into much description of their surroundings. It doesn’t matter how ornate the embroidery is on a curtain or how beautiful an old tree is when you’re getting the crap kicked out of you. Focus on the relevant details that will affect your characters in their struggle.
The cat was doing some slick moves, I had to admit, some kind of soft-shoe dance with his tail adding a shimmy no human would ever be able to match. He ended with that ridiculous top hat rolling down his arm, popping off his paw, and coming right at me. I caught it reflexively, and he grinned, white fangs flashing pearl in the smoky gloom. The music trailed off, and he strutted in my direction. I…
Minor details when writing set can be so important and can really pull your audience in. Think about all of your senses when writing a scene. What does the place smell like, what is the light like in this room? Is it brightly lit or dark, is there natural light or something else? If it’s silent, what does that silence feel like? Some silence can feel comfortable while others can feel oppressive or creepy. A good exercise is to choose a room you’re familiar with and try to describe it in as much detail as possible, then use those sorts of details as reference for your story. Don’t use all of the descriptions at once, but adding in a few can help ground your setting and make your reader feel like they’re actually there.
