The writer in me

I've always loved writing. I went through an anguished poet stage early on when I was much, much younger. I have no idea whatever happened to them but alas they are gone. And I remember way back in grade 4 or 5. I wrote a poem that came in first in the glass. A few fellow students accused me of having one of my parents' write it and I can still dredge up the indignation that I felt at that accusation. In the back of my mind I always had this nebulous idea of someday maybe writing something that might sell but it always remained way back there where it didn't bother me much. Having a blog really soothed it. But I signed up for a creative writing course when my life changed so drastically. Every week the teacher assigns us an assignment. The first one was a 500 word (or thereabout) character description. We then have to read it out loud in front of the class for critiquing. So - laying it all out there - here is my first assignment.

One of the reasons she had been promoted through the ranks and into the role of executive assistant quicker than most was because of her intuitive powers of observation. She spied him getting onto the private elevator that would bring him to the top level.

He stood there in the elevator, his hands clasped loosely in front of him. His dark gray suit jacket was obviously an expensive one; it hugged his well built frame just right. She guessed that it had been tailor made just for him. It would be hard to find one with such perfect fit for his large frame. The gray shirt she noticed was also costly and the matching silk tie, was tight against his throat. It was clear it had been done by an expert hand.

Most people would fidget if they knew they were being watched and the small camera high in the elevator with its green light glowing was a sure indicator that he was under observation. Yet he remained perfectly at ease, as if he didn’t give a damn with whatever someone watching might think. His close cropped golden hair shone in the artificial lights, his skin tanned as if he had just returned from a tropical island.

She judged his age to be around 35, and although it was from a camera, she could still see the steel glint in his vivid blue eyes, framed by his dark brows. His nose straight and slim but for a slight crook in the middle as if it had been broken once or twice. His lips appeared full but firm.

Overall he was a very good looking man, with the kind of charisma both men and women would notice as he walked by. There was stillness to him, a calmness that indicated he was comfortable in all situations. “He would need that” she thought to herself.

The elevator reached the top floor and opened. He exited and she switched her glance to the next camera and watched as he strode down the hall, looking neither to the left or the right. He walked on, not even glancing at the names on the other doors as if he knew exactly where he was going. He reached the door to the outer office and she held her breath – waiting to see what impact he would have in person after watching him so intently. She quickly turned off the cameras and prepared herself. The door opened and he walked in. He glanced briefly at the closed door on the right and then directed his gaze directly into her eyes. She knew instantly she hadn’t braced herself enough for the powerful gaze or the intensity of his deep blue eyes, the colour of the deepest ocean, as they zeroed in on her. Power seemed to radiate off him as she raised her eyes to his. His perfection was marred only by the slight crookedness of his nose, more noticeable in person.

“Yes? May I help you?” she asked suddenly shaken by the knowledge that she was in the presence of someone cold, someone chilling.

“Stirling. Stirling Fletcher to see Mr. Warner” he answered, his gravely voice deep and commanding.

She knew right away that her boss just might have bitten off more than he could handle with this man. She picked up the phone to dial and let him know that his next appointment was here.

The general consensus of opinion of the class was that it was pretty good, but I should have opened with a description of him, rather than starting with her. Of course the class doesn't know yet about my OVERWHELMING love of romance and that, of course, I was thinking romance between her and Mr. Fletcher. I sent it to Cindy before the night we were too hand it in for her opinion and she seemed to think it was good. One of the difficult things to do was to make it "correct" grammatically speaking. I have a tendency in writing in the blog or emails to not really care about grammar. I think most of us do; we write more the way we speak than the way we would write. Plus it has been many years since I was in school and it's very easy to forget many of the rules I learned.
Now - if only I can get going on this weeks assignment. It's a 500 word (or thereabout) exercise in dialogue. This one is giving me fits! I don't know if it's because of the week I had or what - but I really must get to it! Soon!

'til later

PS - and why the heck have the fonts gone all kerfluie???