Second exercise: imagining characters

Exercise 2 was about imagining characters. We were asked to write a piece of 200 words or less concentrating on a description. Later it was suggested that we think about whether we'd chosen 1st or 3rd person, and it seemed to make sense to repeat the exercise using the other voice.

At first I thought all I could do was add a name to version 1: "There was one of the women at the book club that Lesley found oddly compelling...". Re-writing it from Hilary's POV was much more fun than I expected.

1.

There was one of the women at the book club I found oddly compelling. Tall and slender, she nonetheless seemed to hold herself in at all times, as though free movement was something denied her. Before the discussion started her eyes would remain lowered; even when speaking she’d avoid meeting your eyes, her voice low and diffident. As the weeks went by I realised that her pallor always increased during the course of the evening, leaving her looking tired and drawn, so that I began to wonder about her health. Yet the constraint in her gestures, her apologetic tone, seemed somehow at odds with the way she dressed – there was the impression of pleasure in colour, a disregard of convention. I thought I saw her one evening at the theatre wearing trousers of the richest magenta – was it really her? I looked for her in the crowds leaving the auditorium, eager to learn more, but she’d gone before I reached the foyer. The next week I looked in vain for her at the book club.

2.

Hilary hesitated in the doorway at the community centre; perhaps joining a book club wasn’t such a good idea after all? After all, she might have to leave early – her medication was due, without fail, at 9pm, so she’d never be able to stay on late, chatting, the way she was sure many members would do. Steeling herself, she sidled in in her usual, diffident way, the movement at complete odds with the effort of will it took her to make it. Carefully leaving two chairs’ space between her and her neighbour, she sat down and gazed at the floor, waiting for her turn to introduce herself – when it came she said just the one word, gruffly, just her name. The room was warm, so she slid out of her brown wool coat, carefully tucking her peacock-blue scarf into one sleeve for safety. Maybe next week she wouldn’t come back, she thought.