Activity 3.1/Tutorial 1 - You're just jealous cos the voices aren't talking to you...

Week three's chapter started with a (seemingly) simple task. All we had to do was write down our response to the following advice: 'write what you know.' Literally, we just had to write down the first thing that popped into our heads. Here's what I wrote down: 'The problem is, I don’t want to write my autobiography. I want to write fiction – so how do I speak in voices that don’t sound like the one inside my head?'

It is a tricky one. While, obviously, I want to develop a distinctive voice within my writing, I also want to be able to develop distinctive characters who don't just sound like me waffling on (like right here, for instance). Turns out, it was a pretty apposite question, as we've also been busy working on our first online tutorial this week. This involved writing a basic description of someone we know quite well, then asking some 'what if?' questions about them (i.e. 'what if they were secretly an alien from outer space?'). From these ruminations, we did some clustering and freewriting, including the example below:

Andrew carried his anger beneath the skin, a seething virus coursing through his veins. Often he could simply ignore it, the heat and prickle fading into the background, doused by the minutiae of everyday affairs. The weekends were the worst. With nothing to do, he would find himself prowling round the flat, bristling with tension, seeking desperately for a distraction from his mind’s automatic checking and re-filing of the tattered remnants of his memory. Usually he would last little more than a couple of hours before he traced the familiar route along the walls, skirting the assembled bookshelves, running a hand along the exposed spines until a stray title grabbed him and he could thrust his overheated mind into the old search for familiarity.

After this, we then imagined this character taking a walk and meeting someone, either a child or an older person. We then wrote a description of this scene from the point of view of a stranger:

My bloody umbrella broke earlier. The wind turned it inside out and then that turned the heads of three really cute girls, who did that stupid giggly thing lasses do, linking arms and tripping off in their heels. Put me in a properly bad mood. Now I’m soaked through from this feeble, misty rain and my fag’s only surviving ‘cos I’ve got my hands cupped round it. Wish the professors inside would hurry up and finish so I can pack up the hall and get out of here. One’s just come rushing out but I reckon he was just bored, ‘cos all he’s doing now is leaning against the railings, getting wet. Think he’s waiting for someone, he keeps looking in all different directions and checking his watch. Looks a bit nervous but he keeps grinning to himself, like he’s excited about something. Maybe he’s got a hot date. In your dreams, mate. Seriously, you should see him. This guy’s got to be mid-thirties but he’s got his hair in a ponytail hanging down to his arse like a little girl. He’s dressed in the worst suit I’ve ever seen, brown with the legs hovering above his ankles. Christ, he’s even got a pair of Velcro shoes on. He’s meant to be one of these brains and he can’t even tie his laces? Fucking hell.
Think he’s just seen whoever he’s waiting for, he’s straightened up, practically pointing like a dog. Yeah, there’s some old guy coming up to him. Skinny, grumpy-looking type with a bald head and another bad suit. Probably not a date, then, though you never know. They shake hands and exchange names. Look like a right pair of conspirators. Heads together, now the prof’s got some papers out of a folder and they’re reading them over. I’d reckon they were a pair of spies if they weren’t dressed like such saddos. Suppose they could be undercover...

Finally, we rewrote this scene with one difference - this time, our original character was to be keeping a secret and we were to see what sort of effect this would have on the scene:

Conference

My bloody umbrella broke earlier. The wind turned it inside out and then that turned the heads of three really cute girls, who did that stupid giggly thing lasses do, linking arms and tripping off in their heels. Put me in a proper bad mood. Now I’m soaked through from this feeble, misty rain and my fag’s only surviving ‘cos I’ve got my hands cupped round it. Wish the professors inside would hurry up and finish so I can pack up the hall and get out of here. One’s just come rushing out but I reckon he was just bored, ‘cos all he’s doing now is pacing around in the rain like some big twitching insect. He looks completely freaked out, keeps stopping still, rubbing a hand over his face, then setting off again. They’re such weirdos, this university lot. Seriously, you should see him. This guy’s got to be mid-thirties but he’s got his hair in a ponytail hanging down to his arse like a little girl. He’s dressed in the worst suit I’ve ever seen, brown with the bottom of the trousers hovering above his ankles. Christ, he’s even got a pair of Velcro shoes on. He’s meant to be one of these brains and he can’t even tie his laces? Fucking hell.
Think he just saw someone he knows. Yeah, there’s some old guy coming up to him. Skinny, scowling type with a bald head and another bad suit. Not happy to be there, by the look of him. Handshake like a punch. Maybe he owes the professor money. They look pretty intense, anyway, haven’t even bothered to get out of the wet, the old guy’s just leaning against some railings, letting the prof talk at him. Hang on, it’s going a bit weird – the prof’s standing over the old guy, looking pretty threatening. Now he’s got some papers out of a folder and he’s waving them in the old guy’s face, who’s looking like he’s about to scarper if he can. I can hear them now, the prof’s talking at this guy pretty loudly:

“Would you even have come if I’d told you who I was? I wanted you here so I lied. I’m not sorry. Now, we’re going to the police or we’re going to your place to see that research. Decide.”

Bit full on for a pair of brainy-types. Seems to work though, cos the old guy sags like the professor’s just given him a good kicking and jerks his head off back the way he came. The prof looks pretty pleased with himself, tucks away his folder and they set off together, hands in pockets, shoulders rising suddenly, like they just realised how crap the weather is. Entertainment over, I guess. Better go inside and see if the rest of the professors have died of boredom yet.

I think what was most interesting - and surprising - about this task was the amount of time and effort I put into nailing the voice of the narrator, rather than capturing the details of Andrew himself. In fact, it was kind of frustrating keeping a lot of what I already knew about him back but it suited the scene and the POV so much better to hold those things back. However difficult it was though, this tutorial was really productive and I was pleased to see how the character and plot unfurled in my head, particularly in light of that question I had at the start of the week.