I wanted to do something a little different for this post, so rather than doing a normal blog post, I’m going to be taking you through my writing process. This particular piece was a (very) short story that I was assigned to write for my fiction writing class. Any comments that I have will be written in italics to prevent any confusion.
The prompt for this assignment was relatively simple, one person goes through some kind of break up and the other wants to support them, so they go back to one of their rooms to get drinks. Once in their room, one must notice three things in the room and comment on them in some way. Following this, we were then asked to write a shorter segment where the other character prepares three things before they see the person again. This exercise could have been completed in any format as long as it followed the prompt, so naturally I chose to make it in the fantasy genre as it’s the genre I’m most obsessed with.
I began the story with the two characters, Tressa and Isen, entering Tressa’s chambers. Instead of having them come back to the room to drink like the prompt insisted, I altered it a bit and had them already drunk as I thought it made for more interesting conversation. Words tend to flow more freely when people are drunk.
Tressa almost didn’t catch herself when she tripped over the threshold. She stumbled forwards, but strong hands caught her before she could fall all the way to the floor.
“Who put that there?” she giggled.
Isen grinned as he steadied her, then stepped around her to sit on his favorite couch. There were many in her chambers, being the King’s daughter means having plenty of fine furnishings, but he liked this one best.
It was here that I decided to turn this short story into what might be a scene from a fantasy romance novel. I felt that the character’s I’d just come up with had too much chemistry in my mind to make it a simple drunken conversation.
As children, she’d taught him to read on this couch, the princess and a servant’s boy. She was the only one who didn’t care whose son he was, she treated him as an equal. In their adolescence, they’d shared their first kiss on its velvet surface. At the time it was awkward and messy, and they’d both blamed their actions on just wanting to get it over with, but he’d never forgotten.
He reclined against the array of purple cushions, draping his arms around its back. “You’re drunk,” he drawled.
“I am not,” Tressa scoffed, “and even if I was, I’m not the only one.”
He laughed, “I had as much as you did but I’m twice your size. The poison’s hardly even hit me yet.”
Tressa sat down beside him, her limbs splaying everywhere over the couch and Isen’s body. “It’s funny. You call it poison now, but just a few minutes ago you worshiped it like a man dying of thirst.”
“You got me.”
“I know,” she sighed, contented with herself. She leaned back against the couch, her head coming to rest against his arm. Her hair tickled his skin. He forced himself to look away, anywhere but at her.
Rather than just make the three items that one of the characters notice be only common furnishings, I gave them each a story to go along with them.
Isen’s eyes landed on her bed, and the Gods be damned, that was not any better. He focused instead on one of its posts, the dark wood intricately carved with swirling patterns that told her story. Her mother had had it done for her fifteenth birthday, inscribing it with everything that meant something in Tressa’s life as it was then, everything that would matter when she becomes Queen. The first time she showed it to him she’d pulled out a short knife she’d stolen from the kitchens and told him that her parents had forgotten the most important thing. So he watched while she carved his initials into the only space free of design, and when she was done, he knew his heart was bound to her. Not that he’d told her that, of course. He’d only stared as she smiled and tackled him in a hug.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Tressa said softly. He tore his eyes from the bedpost.
He forced a laugh, “I am? I must need another drink.”
“Help yourself,” she said, gesturing to the cart of liquor arranged next to the adjacent couch.
“I will.”
It took all he had to untangle himself from her and walk to the cart. He grabbed a glass and a half finished bottle of bubbly pink champagne. The cork came loose easily, and he poured it into the crystal glass until the bubbles threatened to spill.
“If you’re going to finish my best bottle, then you’re going to have to share,” she called from behind him.
“You’ve only got one clean glass,” he answered, and knew that she was rolling her eyes without having to look at her. He turned and brought it to his lips, then passed it to her.
She wrapped both hands around the glass, thumbs tracing the rim over and over again. “And how can I be sure of your intentions?’ she laughed, almost a joke, but the humor never reached her voice.
His face changed, suddenly serious. He’d forgotten why she’d wanted to go drinking in the first place. He sat beside her, “I’d never hurt you. Not like he did, not when you’re like this. Not ever.”
I didn’t want the ex to be a huge part of the story as the prompt made them out to be. Having the two characters bond over their absence seemed like the better decision to make as at this point the story was turning out to be much more about Tressa and Isen’s relationship than Tressa and her ex’s.
Tressa softened, leaning in to him. “I know,” she whispered, then was quiet. It was a while before he noticed that her breath had steadied, her muscles relaxed. He pulled the glass from her fingers and set it on the armrest, then followed her into sweet darkness.
Here is the break between the two scenes. To better illustrate Isen’s personality and give the reader a bit of background on his life outside of being Tressa’s friend, I had this scene be set before he competes in a tournament.
Isen fastened his sword belt to his waist. The leather fit snug around him, the possibility of it coming loose during battle nonexistent. He ran his hand over the thing, his fingers catching on its hilt, shining silver with the hilt wound into a fashionably curled end.
He was almost fully dressed, save for the pair of things he always saved to put on last before tournament days. His good luck charms, Tressa called them. He wasn’t superstitious, he knew that wearing a few extra baubles wouldn’t win him more luck in battle. But she’d insisted, and so he wore them.
As the three items were identified in the prompt to be things one character prepares before seeing the other, I made them be things that meant a lot to both of them, but even more so to Isen as he is the character whose POV is written from.
The first was the most obvious, a red cloth to tie his hair back. Red, the color of her kingdom and a symbol of his pledge of allegiance to her, clear for all to see. He’d originally borrowed it from Tressa, her hair the only thing smoother than it. It’s fabric was soft in his calloused hands, its color complementary to his dark complexion. He tied it into his hair, the curls wrestled into place. He couldn’t risk them flying into his eyes during battle, it was much too dangerous. He let the cloth run through his fingers one last time before letting go.
He stepped up to the flap of the tent, the roar of the crowd outside growing louder. His name would be announced any minute. His hand found his throat and the thin silver chain that rested there, the green stone that dangled from it, the color of her eyes. He raised it to his lips, then let it fall back into his armor.
Isen heard the roar of his name wash through the crowd, and he stepped through the flaps to meet their gaze, but more so to meet the gaze of the princess who would watch silently from the dais. He grinned.
I ended the story here for two reasons, the boring one being that I had a word limit of 1000 words. The other being that I felt a conclusion in a story this brief would be more meaningful if Isen was just about to see Tressa. This would give the reader an opportunity to guess what comes next, rather than have me explicitly tell them. This open end makes sense in a short story, and it also allows me to have room to continue writing this and possibly expand it into a longer story at some point.
Life Chapter by Chapter 