FANTASTIC WRITING.

I usually start a novel with a character.  The character is introduced, and then starts doing things which lead me through to the situation and the plot and the other characters.  The one I am busy writing now, FOREST CIRCLE QUEST, began with two characters and the advantage of a background from a previous novel set in Forest Circle, which enabled me to introduce Baa the Black Belt lamb to the scene although he actually plays only a minor part.

This is how it kicked off:

CHAPTER 1: A LAMB, A MOUSE, AND A QUEST


‘Look, here come the Porkers!’ Joe Smith yelled to his group of friends, interrupting a fascinating game of seeing who could walk furthest into a mud puddle without getting water in their shoes. The puddle was immediately forgotten. The ‘Smith Crowd’ was a fairly normal bunch of high-spirited youngsters, with no more cruel or nasty streaks than might be expected when nobody bothered to stop them from doing whatever they liked. Still, something about the two plump youngsters now approaching never failed to beg for a generous dose of bullying, teasing and tormenting

Percival Parker-Pyle and his sister Patsy looked like identical twins, even though they were exactly one year apart in age. Percival had caught up with his elder sister in height, and they both had the same, and far too much, girth. They wore their mousy, untidy hair the same length, and always dressed in exactly the same way, and very sloppily. They even seemed to match one another in the patterns of pimples on their faces.

Seeing the dreaded ‘Smith Crowd’ in their path, the plump pair prepared to push off particularly precipitately, but Jean Bartman, a tall athletic girl who was acknowledged as second only to Joe himself in leading the ‘Crowd’, had raced to cut them off. ‘Oink, oink!’ she called from behind them. ‘How are the little pork pies today? Still pigging away to fatten yourselves up for Christmas?’

‘No, that’s turkeys,’ objected a scrawny boy called Stan Reed, trying to kick water at the Parkers from the puddle. His shoes were already full to the brim, so it didn’t matter any more. ‘The Porkers just fatten themselves up all year round.’ A bright thought struck him. ‘Hey, piggies like mud, don’t they?’

‘That’s right, they do,’ said Joe, advancing on the pair. ‘Let’s give them a nice wallow in some.’

Percival’s face screwed up to cry. ‘You touch us, an’ I’ll tell my Auntie!’ he quavered.

‘You did that yesterday, and she tried to get us into trouble,’ said Jean, moving closer, ‘so maybe sitting in some mud for a while will get it into your fat little heads that when you tell tales like that it only makes us cross. Right, let’s grab them...’ she paused, staring in total disbelief. A small black lamb had suddenly appeared between her and the Parkers. Not only that, but it was glaring at her in a threatening way. She shook her head and muttered, ‘Don’t be silly, lambs can’t look threatening.’ She failed to convince herself. This one did.

The Parkers ignored the lamb. Their one idea was to get away, and their best option for doing so was to retreat, where there was only one enemy instead of the five coming from the front. Splitting up, they tried to dodge past Jean, one on either side of her, showing a remarkable turn of speed considering their weight. Jean hesitated for a second, realised she couldn’t stop both of them, and made a determined dive at the nearest. A black blur passed her feet, and suddenly her dive had turned into a belly-flop, straight into another mud puddle near her.

‘Look at Jean!’ hooted one of the others. ‘She tripped over a sheep!’ Convulsed with laughter, the rest slowed enough for the Parkers to build up a good lead.

Joe noticed this. ‘They’re getting away,’ he yelled. ‘After them!’

Forgetting their mirth for a while, the five sprinted after Joe, who was already catching up with the fleeing figures. All of them except Joe ignored the fact that the lamb, after following the pair for a short distance, had now stopped and turned round. It was in Joe’s way, so he aimed a kick at it. He missed. The lamb suddenly wasn’t in front of his foot. Instead, it seemed to have got behind his heel somehow, and given the kick a boost. Joe’s kicking leg went up so far that the other followed it, and he landed flat on his back, knocking all his breath out. The girl following him tried to jump over his body, slipped in the mud, and landed on top of him instead.

Glancing over their shoulders in terror, the Parkers had seen this downfall, and now unwisely stopped for a better look. Led by Stan, squelching in his waterlogged shoes, the remaining three redoubled their speed, hoping to grab the brother and sister before they started running again. Something went badly wrong. A busy black shape darted from one to the other runners, and each felt a woolly body touch them for an instant. Then their feet seemed to become hopelessly tangled, and all found themselves sprawled in an even bigger puddle than the one Jean, at that moment, was painfully crawling out of.

So surprised were the Parkers at the sight of the entire ‘Smith Crowd’ wallowing in mud instead of making them do it, that they continued to stand and stare instead of making good their escape. Only when all their would-be tormentors were back on their feet did they think of fleeing again, but now something else amazing was happening. The lamb had been nibbling casually at some grass by the roadway, but as soon as all members of the grubby group were standing again he began advancing on them ominously. Again Jean found herself muttering, this time that lambs couldn’t advance ominously. Again she found herself deciding that this one did.

Stan lost his nerve. ‘That isn’t a lamb, it’s a devil!’ he yelled. ‘Or maybe it’s mad, like a dog with that rabies thing, an’ if it bites you, you also go mad an’ die! I’m out of here!’ He was, right away.

Panic is catching. It caught the others in a tight clutch, made them turn chicken, and the clutch of chickens followed Stan at speed, clucking. Only Joe remained, trying to catch enough breath to call his followers back to catch the hated Parkers. Then he caught sight of the rather nasty look in the lamb’s eye as it still advanced towards him. He caught two more things: the panic attack of his no-longer-following followers, and enough breath to follow them. He was still too winded to do another catching thing by catching up, though.

The lamb turned and trotted to where the Parkers were still standing with their mouths wide open. The corpulent couple wondered briefly if they should run from him (or her? ... no, it seemed to cocky to be a ‘her’) as well. Somehow, he didn’t seem to mean them any harm – in fact, it was almost as if he had been on their side deliberately. ‘How did you do all that?’ Patsy asked, and then realised how ridiculous she must sound, asking questions of a lamb. Now, of course, the awful Percival would never let her hear the end of it.

Her brother leapt at the opportunity. ‘Expecting an answer, are you?’ he sniggered. ‘Let me give it.’ He put on a bleating voice. ‘Actually, you si-hilly girl, I was so frigh-igh-ightened by all those children running at me that I got scare-eh-eh-eh-ed and ran in circles and tripped them up.’

The lamb seemed to glare at him, and then shook his head in a most human fashion. Patsy developed a wild hope. Could it be one of her days for scoring over her horrible brother? ‘You meant to trip them up, didn’t you?’ she asked eagerly. The lamb unmistakably nodded. ‘You meant to come to our rescue?’ she went on excitedly. Again, the lamb nodded. Patsy looked witheringly at Percival. ‘You’d better apologise to both of us,’ she demanded.

Percival spluttered. Of all the bad luck, this stupid animal happening to move in a way that made his dreadful sister seem right. Now she’d go into telling him to respect his elders, and how much less grown up he was than she, and that he was still a baby, and all the similar things that always made him get so mad with her. He tried to think of an insult horrible enough for the occasion, but before he could decide on what should follow ‘You’re a...’, the attentions of both were taken by the lamb. He had trotted ahead, glanced over his shoulder, and was now moving his head in a ‘Follow me,’ gesture.

Boy and girl stood rooted to the spot, mouths open again. ‘D’you think he wants us to go somewhere with him?’ Percival asked weakly, and his sister shook her head, nodded, and shrugged. Normally, that would have been enough for the boy to say something like, ‘Was that a definite “I-don’t-know”, or are you still trying to find a mind so you can make it up?’ but the lamb had now become impatient. Rearing up on its hind legs, it swept one hoof towards its front in a definite beckoning movement.

© 2010 Colonialist (Blogger)

STRIKING THE WRITE NOTE

COLONIALIST COMPOSITIONS -QUESTS 4 ALBUM IN PREPARATION

To introduce myself to you

I thought the best thing I could do,

Instead if all the wordy quotes,

Was put in here some of my notes!

The play's the thing, they always say;

But I retort, the things they play

These days lack musicality

To any notable degree.

I like a play upon a word,

In playful manner, and absurd,

Thus strike a note with little class -

My music, though, is seri-aas!

© Colonialst June 2010 (Blogger)