Sophie Lives – Character Development

This is a page in which I will update ideas for Sophie Lives.

28/02/20

Sophie is going to have flashbacks of the domestic abuse that she suffered, and I wrote part of one of the flashbacks. Three o’clock in the morning is as good a time to write as any other.

03/03/20

Sophie is going to wear clothing which is black, or that is not feminine in any way as she does not wish to attract attention to herself.

She can learn boxing or a martial art so that she builds confidence and a means of defending her self. I want her to get help with coming off of methadone, and for her mental health, but not an inpatient admission. Maybe even at some point on her journey into recovering from domestic abuse sexuality could be explored. An existential crisis that leads her into a same sex relationship.

Research points

  • Martial arts
  • Lesbian sexual identity in response to violence for a previously heterosexual woman
  • IDAS
  • Refuge

Lucky Day – Very Short Story

I met a nice man in the bar of the golf club, and he invited me for a round of golf. I said “sure James, that would be lovely.”

We walked down to the first tee. On the way I explained that I used to play as a junior but had not played since.” I haven’t any clubs” I said, “may I borrow yours please?” The first hole was a par four that went over a beautiful lake with trees on the far bank. He took his shot from the pro tees and I from the ladies. To be honest I was proud of my ball flying through the air and over the trees, I knew it would be near the green. His was further away. He took his second shot and walked towards the green, passing me a 7 iron on the way. I lined my feet up and addressed the ball, it landed right near the hole. This was clearly my lucky day.

Sophie Lives – Exercise 1.3

Get writing with emotion by choosing one of the two subjects below:- This lit up my day or This darkened my heart. Such writing may become very emotional, so before you begin remember that you won’t ever have to show anyone what you’ve written if you choose not to. It is always up to you what you send to your tutor. So you can write deeply… emotionally… without concern. As previously, read it through, enjoy your writing, but don’t try to change this for now. 

“Oh for fucks sake, I’m not supposed to have woken. Can’t i get anything right” Sophie thought. “I’m supposed to be dead”. She lay still underneath the cotton colours, a musty smell hung in the air. A tear trickled to her nose from the corner of her eye. She lay there empty, feeling defeated. Her heart crushed and barely beating.

Tears turned into breathless sobs, snot running down her face. She didn’t care how she looked, her mind with desperate thoughts of death. The room was beggining to get lighter as night turned into yet another bloody day. Death doesn’t come easy to some people.

She wiped her nose on the sleeve of her jama top, pulled her hands down over her forehead, ensuring her finger nails dug deep into her skin. It’s bizarre how trauma can leave the victim feeling an urgency to harm themselves. She didn’t care about the pain, or how others may react to the scars, not anymore. She used to be self conscious about the marks on her skin, the occasional stare, but now she was oblivious to it. Her life didn’t matter. Fuck it. Fuck off.

Sophie felt the urge to go to the bathroom, decided against getting out of bed. The sensation of warm urine turning cold against her skin turned to a fug of wet fabric against her legs. Depression. Overwhelming depression, wrapped in a venomous self hatred.

I’m not sure if I was meant to write fiction or prose so I just went with the flow. I’ve stopped at this point, but feel this passage is something that I may be able to return to at a later date. 

The Shaman Draws – Exercise 1.1

Here is how you get writing. You start with what is in your head – and that means putting something in your head, then writing about it. Before you begin, get yourself ready. Either pull up a blank page (word document or similar) on your screen, or pick up a pen and a piece of paper. Now, once you’re ready, look at the image below. Look at it for as long as you like, take it all in, or merely snatch a glance, but only look away from the image once something has come into your mind that is formed in words. As soon as that happens, get writing. 

ca_2248804bhttp://i.telegraph.co.uk/multimedia/archive/02248/ca_224804b.jpg

Write down what came into your head as you looked into the picture. This might have been one of several things: a description of what you see, something you thought about the picture, a memory that came into your head as you looked, something about what was happening to you as you looked at it, some other, surprising thing! 

You might enjoy reading your work through once you’ve finished writing. But for now, don’t tamper with it. Let it be what it is – a first attempt to get writing. Don’t be dismayed if it doesn’t feel as good as you were hoping. On the other hand, if it pleases you, that’s a bonus. The one thing you should feel, after completing this first exercise is pride. You got writing. Well done. 

I don’t think I can bare to wait much longer. I am full of energy and completely exhausted. We have been dancing around the fire all night to the sound of drums. Dancing so that we can help the Shaman on his journey to the underworld to meet with the Spirits. The village is truly in trouble this time. The white man has destroyed our closest villages. They have killed families and generations. Apparently they have some new magic glued to their hands, which shoot balls of metal into the skin. They will attack us soon.

I hope the Spirits have some guidance which will protect us. What will the Shaman have drawn?

Please be good news. Please.

Movement ahead. The people at the front are beginning to enter the cave. I make baby steps to begin with, eager to go into the cave as soon as I can. 

We gather inside to see what the Shaman has drawn. Torches flicker, light and shadows dance together. I crane my neck, stretching as hard as I can to see, to learn our fate.

Hands. Hands.

Are these hands of help, or hands of surrender?