Writing Out Loud

(I wrote this with Dragon Speak and didn't take the time to edit or change the mistakes. I just want to get it up to remember. So proceed, realizing there will be funny gibberish between.)

She sat next to him, searching his face, reflecting the same mingling of fear and curiosity.

Comments and screamed orders for him to leave, to look away, and to remember his place. His thoughts obeyed, envisioning leaving the cavern, returning to the main caverns. There was water to be hauled, fuel to be gathered — a hundred mundane tasks left for his hands.

His body rebelled, frozen in place as his thoughts turned taking a very different route. Unsure of who moved forward, he felt the forbidden lips touch his; a single brush severing his resolve.

As usually happens during a kiss scene, the scene completely stops in my head as though someone pushed pause on the movie I'm watching. I sit back, making large circles with both arms as though that will set the film rolling again.

"And…"

Nothing comes. I sigh. "I really suck at romance."

Maybe it's because I've never actually kissed. I don't remember ever kissing. I don't remember anyone ever kissing me. Maybe on the cheek when I was three.

My first inclination is to interrupt the kissing, but common sense tells me that would be bad for Decharo. A friend. Interrupting, would just make it awkward. Anybody else would get him into a whole slew of trouble. He's already going to be in trouble in the next scene. My thoughts returned to characters in them scene.

"All right guys. So now what you do?"

Decharo breaks the third wall, entering from his world into mine and getting that rather sort of a cocky attitude that all my characters get want to venture into dialogue with me.

"Well, we could just keep kissing."

"For the rest of the book?" A laugh works its way into my skepticism.

He grins. "Sure. Why not? It's bound to be better than whatever you have planned."

I wince. It probably is. I'm already working to make Decharo's future better than the original story implied it would be, but I am as uncertain of his future as I am of my own.

"I don't know." I avoid his remark. "Romance just still silly to me. I have no idea what it's like to kiss."

His eyebrows arch. "You mean I've done something that the author hasn't?"

"Yeah, yeah." I try not to let bitterness seep in. "Rub it in, all you want. Just shows me how what happens after you kiss."

I can see in Decharo’s face that he's thinking there's a vast difference between what happens in the story after he kisses, and what he would like to happen after he kisses.

I mentally forced him away from my world and back into the story, then pause to answer a text from Rob. Decharo Shannondant go right back to kissing, which makes me frustrated thinking about how in the world. I'm going to describe it, and then makes me grin because Decharo's nearly as good as guarded as myself, and they are pretty dang cute doing it. I chew the inside of my lip, wondering if I can manipulate events to give them a happy ending.

Okay. So what do I see in this scene? There sitting on a rock, conveniently shaped. Sort of like the bench. Shannondant is in the cranberry dress, but as they zero in on the sleeves. They start changing shape I can clearly see the picture anymore. Then I get distracted because my vocal program is doing funky things with the grammar, and it's throwing me off.

Back to the picture.

Bits of white are poking out of Shannondant steps scalloped sleeves kind of like Italian Renaissance. If that even a fashion in Erilerre? Now she suddenly looks like she stepped out of “Ever After."

Whatever. She's clean and neat which must've taken efforts the she lives in the caves with the rest of them. His close are tan, probably made out of some animal hide. And they are not dressed for winter.

I mentally manipulate the image. This is why I hate description. It constantly changes on me from seeing the story, to just filling in blanks when ever I'm trying to zero in on what I'm actually seeing. This is not what they look like when the actual scene was happening.

So they're still on the rock. Her hand is still on his cheek, which seems inappropriate, but then again, she is Shannondant and she's been awfully pushy in this scene. She should be wearing a cloak. The caves are cold and wet, and she is a princess, so it should be a fairly nice cloak. However, she lives with a bunch of men who are not fashion conscious nor have an overly high opinion of her, because she is a woman. So I give her a plane cranberry, woolen cloak. Perhaps to make it pretty, she's in bordered tiny designs on the front of it. Yes, I like that. Little Celtic knot the trail around the hood and down the front of the opening. They are yellow-ish gold. Her sleeves are tight now, tight and layered under hair hangs down in a long, thick braid down her back. It's rolled around the top and yes Decharo, she is beautiful. Now that I can see more clearly what she's wearing, I replaced her into the picture, balancing on a leather Brown shoe and leaning forward to kiss him. I'm pretty sure was her who initiated the kissing.

Decharo is still not dressed for winter. But then again, he probably really isn't. His clothing is ragged. Nobody cares much what he looks like, so long as he has something to wear. But I'm working on description, so I'll look him over. His sleeves are baggy as are most Erish shirts, so there's plenty of room for work. There's a few slight tears, and smudges from the dirt and probably cinders from the fire. His hands are still cracked, laced with black dirt and ashes. Even if he scrubs them, they still won't ever look quite clean. Like your hands look will look after you worked on the engine of the car. Oh, there is his cloak. Sitting beside him. It's gray and woolen and rough and looked scratchy. They must've set it aside whenever they decided to cut his hair.

His pants are made out of some sort of animal skin. I guess waterproof helps keep the cold out. His boots go to his knees, and looks to be the newest thing about him.

I suddenly wondered Shannondant will keep any of that here. That's on the ground, and half of me thinks it's cute, but most of me thinks that’s just kind of creepy.

He needs something to keep them from looking like a pirate, so I give him a vest also made from a soft tan leather. There. Now I have a definite picture that looks like he belongs in Eirlerre. There's not much also around. Rocks, walls, and a torch for light. He’ll have to bring her back to the main part or someone else will. Even flustered, he would not leave her there alone.

Which reminds me that I actually need to get back to the story plot. I turn on Pandora, and the slowly dreamy piano music accompanies the scene which just makes me think of camera shots drifting around the couple as they kiss. Her hand goes to his face. One of his hands inches to her waist, though he is more hesitant. I go ahead and let the scene play out in my head, even though it's not forming words that I can actually write down.

His hand creeps from her waists up to brush his thumb through her hair. He's always wanted to touch her hair. Now creeps around the back of her head, pulling her closer. 300 more words, and I could be at a word count for an entire day. If I can just learn how to do this using quality words that are actually part of the story.

Dreamy piano music is coming to an end. I hope a new musical bring insight.

Scenario number one begins.

He pulls back, looking into her eyes, his own eyebrows drawing down as panic seeps in. Realizing what he's done. "I'm sorry."

She watches him calmly. "I'm not. You shouldn't be either."

He gets up and leaves and she sits a bit frustrated. I don't think that was it. I change the dreamy piano music.

Pandora has a sense of humor. A Jamaica beat accompanies the lyrics, "Today, I don't feel like doing anything. I just want to lay in my bed."

It completely evade the caves. It cracks me up and ruins the images as my characters start dancing around. Good by Bruno Marrs. Hello Loreena MeKennit. Beneath a Phyrigian Sky begins with a haunting song of pipes and a violin that sounds like it’s coming from the middle east somewhere. Close, but not quite.

“The old ways” begins, sounding much better.

Unfortunately, the song makes me think more of Andrew and Clara. Though on reflection it works for Decharo and Shannondant as well.

And here I am, beautiful violin music, nearly had a nano word count, and still without a good scene. Oh well. At least I know what they're wearing. I think about the bay, my black book and pencil, and decide that was might be a better way to write after all. So here I go, off to write the way I normally do. It's usually more streamlined and effective.

I procrastinate, realizing that when all is said and done, I still don't know how to write a kissing scene. Perhaps someone will interrupt them. After all. For the story to work, they don't need enough time to reflect on their feelings for each other. That part comes later.

So. Now to find who or how they are interrupted with, or by. I wonder vaguely if I’ll ever actually be able will to write out loud like this without completely rambling like I've just done.