Happy Sunday, and May the Fourth be with you! As promised, here's a brief preview of the devices I'll be using next week:
First up is the Reckless Deck, for which I have volumes 1 and 2 and the Worlds deck. These give some traits for character or world building, and there are a few different ways of playing with them. I've toyed with them a little bit, but not too much, so I'm looking forward to digging a little deeper.
Next is the first device from The Writer's Toolbox. There are three devices in here, and I'm starting with the simplest, the Sixth Sense Cards. These have simple prompts based on the senses on them. I haven't dug into this toolbox much yet, so I'm very curious to see what sparks from here.
As for today, Sundays are when my writing group meets. I am fortunate enough to take part in Mary Robinette Kowal's Make Me Write sessions, which have been hugely beneficial in creating a regular writing habit for me. Each week she gives us boosts for the writing to come, advice, and prompts to help get the creative motors running. This week was all about world building starting with the character, sparked by a class she had taken with Rebecca Roanhorse. I'm including my notes on how I got into the story here, but basically, I started with a character type (the "preppy student"), then listed the things about the world that having this character would indicate. Then I threw that character into a situation with someone who was her opposite, and let them go.
Character: Preppy student
Indicates:
- Schools exist
- Specifically, preparatory schools (usually private schools meant to groom students for college/higher education/higher status jobs)
- Private vs public schools OR education only available to those who can afford it - wealth and education gap
- Knows how to behave in “high society” (knows which fork to use)
- Doesn’t know how to behave outside of the high society bubble
- Indicates distinction between high society and the rest of the world
- Doesn’t worry about money/how much things cost
- Doesn’t understand people who have to price check/save
- Indicates economy, wealth gap
- Only associates with the “right kind” of people/treats them as real people vs props/”the help”
- Looks down on anyone outside the high society bubble
- Assumes anyone not like them is beneath them
- Indicates sheltering/distinct break between high and low society, closed society
Situation: locked down in a bookstore (the Wordsmith) with an employee during a tornado warning
Rosalind Mumford ignored everyone around her as she strode purposefully toward the bookstore. It was the only time she had to come to the store and pick up her copy of the latest Sarah J. Maas book, and she would be damned if she wasn’t going to walk out of the store with it in her hands before she had to head back to school.
Overhead, the sky was a sickly green color, and the streets were eerily quiet all around her. It made it easier for her to cross against the light and get to the store, and she had her hand on the door and was pushing it open just as an employee had his hand on it from the other side.
“Oh, fantastic!” Rosalind said. “Thanks so much. I have a pre-order I need to pick up. Last name Mumford?” She walked to the counter and was waiting there, not taking a single glance at the employee she’d breezed past. It wasn’t until she’d stopped at the counter that she realized there was no one else in the store, and she frowned. “Oh, you are open, aren’t you?”
“Well, we were about to close,” the young man said, flipping the sign on the door to the CLOSED side and hesitating before locking the door. “I don’t know if you realize this, but we’re under a tornado watch, and I was getting ready to head into the cellar to wait it out.” He stared her down, arms crossed in front of his chest, and Rosalind felt he might be upset with her.
“Oh, that’s ridiculous!” she exclaimed. “I’ve lived here forever, and those tornado watches and things are always exaggerations. We get the notice, everyone hides like a bunch of little mice, and then an hour later we all come out and it turns out there was nothing but a couple of big gusts.” She shrugged, then gestured to the shelf behind the counter. “Look, I can see my book right there! Ring me up, won’t you?”
The employee hung his head and took a deep breath before looking at her again. “I really think it’s best if we head to the cellar right now, and then when we get the all-clear, I can ring you up,” he said at last. He gestured to the other side of the store from the counter, and Rosalind could just make out a door hidden between the bookcases. “We really need to get to shelter.”
She tapped her foot impatiently. “Now, look, I’m not about to be locked up in here for however long it takes for the weather service to clear us,” she tutted, reaching into her huge purse and pulling out her wallet. “Just ring me up, and I’ll get out of here and you can go hide in the cellar like all the other mice.” When she realized that he wasn’t moving, she rolled her eyes and sighed exaggeratedly. “The faster you do this, the faster I’ll be out of your hair. Besides, everyone knows that there’s no real danger so long as you don’t hear the sirens.”
As though she had called them into being, the sirens began. Both of them jumped, and a few things fell out of Rosalind’s purse and onto the counter. Swearing, she scooped them back up, looking furtively at the glass door behind the employee. Now that she’d heard the sirens, she was starting to remember all of the drills she’d had in school, and the fear she’d felt as a small child was creeping back in.
“OK, OK, let’s get to that cellar of yours, then,” she said, in what she hoped was a conciliatory tone. “Lead the way!”
The employee cocked his head at her, and seemed to be contemplating something. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and took another deep breath. “Yes, let’s go,” he said finally, and he turned on his heel toward the door she’d seen earlier. She hurried after him, still watching the glass door for the signs of the twister that she was sure was going to touch down any second. He opened the door wide and gestured for her to go in first, then closed the door behind them.
The stairs were dimly lit, and it took a few seconds for Rosalind’s eyes to adjust to the lack of light after the brightness of the store on the other side of the heavy wooden door. She slowly walked down the stairs, acutely aware of the young man walking behind her, even though he was maintaining a respectable distance. Once they were at the bottom of the stairs, she stood still, waiting for the employee to tell her where to go or to turn on the lights or something. He wasn’t being particularly accommodating, but she suspected he was probably a bit scared.
He reached past her to a light switch, and more dim lights brightened the space at the bottom of the stairs. He managed to maneuver around her to get to a threadbare couch up against one wall, turning on a lamp on an end table next to one side of the couch. On the other side of the end table was a short bookcase filled with worn paperbacks, and he crouched down to study it before picking one. There was a mini-fridge on the wall across from the stairs, and he rummaged before pulling out a bottle of water, then settled onto the couch.
There was an even more worn armchair against the wall opposite the couch, with another end table and lamp, and a spinning rack of books next to that table. Rosalind took a hesitant step toward the chair, before turning back to the employee, who was already engrossed in his book. “Well? Aren’t you going to offer me anything?”
Irritated, the young man looked up. “Nope. You see where the fridge is. There are books. There’s an old-school radio over there if you want to get that cranked up, but I’m planning to just check my phone for updates - the weather service sends alerts when things are cleared, just like the one they sent when there was a tornado warning. You know, the one I’m sure you ignored before you came storming in here like you owned the place.” He pulled the top off the bottle of water and took a long swig before turning back to his book.
Rosalind’s cheeks burned with outrage and embarrassment. Yes, her phone had notified her of the tornado warning, but it was always going off like that this time of year - who paid attention to such things? Well, this guy, apparently. She walked to the mini-fridge and pulled out another bottle of water, wrinkling her nose at the brand but refusing to say anything. If he could keep up the silent treatment, then so could she.
The spinning rack of books was full of titles she’d either never heard of or had only seen in school, and none of them appealed to her. There didn’t seem to be anything more recent than twenty years ago, and even then, none of them were her preferred genre. “Who picked the books down here?” she complained. “Has no one heard of the twenty-first century? These are all old people books.” She picked up a hefty paperback and studied the back cover. “I mean, Shakespeare? Who even reads this if they don’t have to for school?” She scoffed as she stuffed it roughly back onto the rack.
“Be careful with that!” the employee barked. “Some of us have to replace those books out of our own pockets if they get damaged.” She faced him to see him glaring, and she shrank back under the force of his ire. “I know you’re not used to having to count your pennies, but some of us have to watch our budgets. And just because you got to read some of these things in school doesn’t mean the rest of us did.”
Rosalind furrowed her brow, trying to figure out what he could possibly mean, but before she could ask she heard a banging noise upstairs. She faced the door, terrified of what might be coming down the stairs, then turned back to the employee to see him looking up casually, then checking his phone. “We’re fine,” he said gruffly. “Seems like the worst of it is passing over us now, but it should be blowing past in a few minutes. You’ll be able to be on your merry way back to whatever your type does in the middle of the afternoon and you can leave me to clean up.” He sank back into the couch, flicking the page on his book.
“Now, see here,” she said, drawing herself up. She was not about to let herself be talked to in such a manner by some public school upstart like this. “I took my time to patronize a small local bookstore - time I didn’t need to take, when I could have just as easily bought the book online and avoided this whole interaction, might I add - when I had a gap between classes. It’s none of your business what I’m doing, but since you asked, I’m in my final year, and I’m heading to take classes at the city college for the rest of the day.” She pulled out her own phone and checked the time, then clucked her tongue. “Well, I was, until I got stuck in here. I’m going to have to see if the professor will let me catch up later. I’m trying to make something of myself, you see, and I don’t need this kind of attitude from the likes of you.”
He slammed the book shut. “The likes of me? You mean the people who keep these ‘small local bookstores’ open so you can swan in at the last minute before a natural disaster is set to hit, that kind of people?” He stood up, and she suddenly realized how much taller than her he was. “I’m working here to pay for college, since some of us actually have to make the money to pay for our education, unlike the likes of you. I was getting ready to lock up and put some boards over the door and windows before you came in demanding your damned book, and so now, it’s entirely possible-“ The sound of breaking glass could be heard overhead, and he winced. “I will be cleaning up broken glass and possibly having to damage out inventory because it got wet from the rain or had the pages torn from the wind. Something that might have been avoided if I hadn’t had to deal with you. But you wouldn’t know anything about that kind of work, would you? You have people to do that for you. People like me.
“Well, let me remind you of something, princess - people like me are, in fact, people. Right now, I’m not the employee, and you’re not the customer. You’re just the stuck-up little brat who decided her book was more important that letting people take shelter and take care of their livelihoods.”
They glared at each other before Rosalind realized that the sound of the wind had stopped. The notification tones on both of their phones were incredibly loud in the sudden silence, but by mutual concession, they checked their phones and relaxed a bit. The storm was over. The employee - had she even asked his name, Rosalind wondered? - put his book back in the bookcase, finished his bottle of water and threw it away, then turned off the lamp he’d turned on. By the time he’d finished neatening up, his face was back in a neutral expression.
“I think it’s safe to head back upstairs. If the registers are working, I should be able to ring you out.” He gestured for her to head up the stairs first, and she started, then walked back upstairs. He turned off the lights and followed her up, then they both stood just inside the doorway to stare at the bookstore beyond.
A tree branch had come through the front door, with broken glass all around it. The display of books right by the door was in ruins, pages torn and waterlogged, but the majority of the damage appeared to be confined to that one area. Rosalind moved aside so the employee could make his way into the store, and he moved briskly to the counter, his head on a swivel as he took in any other signs of damage. She followed after him, trying to see what he was seeing, and wincing at the broken glass and the pages that were underfoot.
He moved behind the counter and brightened. “Looks like the computers are still up, somehow,” he said cheerfully, and he turned to the shelf behind the counter. “Last name was Mumford, right?”
She jumped, startled by the change in demeanor, and nodded her head. He put the book down and rang it up, then gave her the total. He met her gaze steadily, and she realized that she very rarely looked the employees in the eye when she was checking out. Had she ever done so? She couldn’t think of a time that she had. She pulled her wallet out of her oversized bag and rang her card through, then picked up the book and put it in her bag. “Thank you,” she said, and turned to walk out the other door that had somehow managed to remain undamaged.
The employee hurried around with a broom, and swept a path to the door before unlocking it. “Have a great rest of your day!” he said cheerfully as he opened it for her, and she started to step through. She paused at the threshold watching as he began picking up some of the damaged books and putting a “wet floor” sign down near the broken glass. She chewed her lip for a second, checked the time on her phone again, then came back into the store completely.
He looked at her surprised and with a hint of fear. “Is everything all right?” Rosalind realized in that moment that she had more power than ever - he had been exceptionally rude to her downstairs, and she could demand to speak to his manager, have him written up, possibly have him fired. She held his fate in her hands, and normally, she would have savored the feeling.
This time, she reached out a hand. “Hi. I’m Rosalind. It looks like you could use some help cleaning up. Is there another broom I can use to get some of this glass out of the way?” She met his gaze calmly, while her insides quaked with trepidation. What would she do if he said no? If he turned away from her?
He watched her for just a beat longer than was comfortable, then extended his own hand. “Alex. And sure. Take this one, and I’ll grab another one from the back.” Together, they started to put the bookstore back to rights.
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