Fi Phillips

Image courtesy of Comfreak on pixabay.com The purpose of this month's writing exercise is to become more familiar with your protagonist and antagonist. Here goes. If your protagonist and antagonist were in each other's shoes, how would they act differently? Would they act differently? What does this tell you about each of these characters? Let's look at an example - how about Harry Potter and Voldemort? If Voldemort/Tom Riddle had been orphaned and brought up by cruel relatives, would he had become a well-loved friend, hero and inspiration to others? If Harry had experienced Voldemort/Tom Riddle's upbringing, would he have followed a power-hungry path of evil? Are your character's actions based on their upbringing and background, or do they have the choice to carve their own paths? What would they do if they swapped lives?

This month I have a writing prompt for you, or rather two writing prompts. Use either or both, it's up to you. Here they are. and Images courtesy of: Tim Foster on Unsplash sharonshuping0 on Pixabay

This month's writing exercise is intended to set your creative cogs whirring. You're at home on your own. It's dusk and you're settling down with a hot drink. As far as you're concerned you won't be going out and you certainly aren't expecting a visitor. There's a knock on your front door, a quiet, hesitant knock. You put down your drink and stand up. There's a second knock, this time heavy and insistent - knock, knock, knock, knock, knock. When you get to the door, you put the chain on and gingerly open it. There's nobody there but as you look down, you see a cardboard box has been left on your doorstep. You take off the chain, cautiously open the door and peer out. There's nobody around. You step outside and examine the box. It's sealed but there's no address, label or writing on it. What do you do? Do you open it on your doorstep? Do you carry it inside? Do you ignore it and  close the door? If you do open...

The first writing exercise of 2017 from me and it's August already. How did that happen? This month's writing exercise is about summer, or rather what summer means to you. For me, the summer is largely taken up with the school summer break - 6 or 7 weeks when my teens are away from school and my work has to take a sideways shunt to accommodate day trips and refereeing arguments. I also have to feed them but since we bought a new sandwich toaster, they're sorting their own lunches out by experimenting with hot sandwich fillings. Ingredients to date have included ham, bacon, cheese, bananas, peanut butter, chocolate and jam. I'll let you guess at what combinations they've concocted so far. So, back to the writing exercise. Summer. What does it mean to you? Does it even register in your busy life other than a change of wardrobe? Do you like summer skies or do you prefer the winter winds? Write a piece about summer from someone else's perspective: A si...

It's December and, in  case you hadn't noticed, Christmas is speeding towards us. This weekend, my children helped me decorate our tree. The ornaments are a mixture of styles and colours but many hold wonderful memories.  Most of you will have a Christmas tree in your home this month. My December writing exercise is to choose one of your decorations as an inspiration for your writing. The inspiration could come from where you bought your decoration (or perhaps it was a gift), or what the symbol of the ornament stands for itself (be it, an owl, a Santa or a snowflake).  If you don't have a Christmas tree at home (or if you aren't at home this time of year), then choose an ornament on a tree in a shopping centre, or find one online.  Which bauble have you chosen or what has it inspired you to write?

The Christmas Market in Chester Town Hall Square Last week, my family and I trundled into Chester on a chilly Thursday night to watch the city lights switch on. The streets were heaving with people, young and old, all come together to share the experience. When the time came, all eyes turned to watch Santa who stood on the walkway where the city clock sits above the main street. He waved cheerily as the steamers of fireworks raced into the sky from either side of him. I say all eyes. I took a sneaky look at the crowds as they watched. I noticed the three teenage girls hunched together, the toddler doing his best to escape from his parents, and the old man blowing on his ungloved hands. All of them were strangers to me. I didn't know their names or where they lived, or how happy their lives were. I could only imagine. This month, as the streets and the shops fill with crowds preparing for the festive break, take some time to people watch. Who catches your eye? Who cou...

I'm taking part in the International Writing Programme's free online course at the moment - Storied Women . This week saw our first assignment, writing from the perspective of a child using the different ways discussed on the course to portray characterisation (speech patterns, movements, details, habits, drawing on life, etc.). This in itself is a writing exercise worth sharing but what I thought I'd discuss as this month's writing exercise is changing perspective. I normally write from the third person perspective. It's my 'comfort' perspective and I find it easy to fall into. For my Storied Women assignment however, I chose to write in first person. I didn't make a conscious decision to do that. It just felt like the right thing to do. Here's an excerpt of what I wrote. When Death Comes A-Knocking      Grandma said that before the ghosts, children played outside, kicking around balls and climbing trees. Momma always told her to hush abo...

I'm sure all writers pull from their own lives and experiences for at least a small part of their writing content, sometimes unconsciously, sometimes knowingly and in precise detail. Using what we know can ground our writing and add believability (apologies if that isn't a real world but it sounded right). This month's exercise is to look into your own experiences and memories to find something unusual, or bizarre, an event or detail that was out of the ordinary, and embroider that memory or detail into a piece of writing. My own memory happened on a winter's night on a railway bridge. My car skidded on black ice and piled into a lamp-post, thankfully preventing us from tumbling off the bridge onto the train line below. My then boyfriend was belted in but the force of the collision smacked him into the windscreen. I remember him screaming and then silence. Almost immediately, he went into shock. The passing drivers all pulled over and helped. One drove to the loca...

Years ago (decades), I took part in a production of Confusions by Alan Ayckbourn , a set of five interlinked plays that dealt with the concept of loneliness and miscommunication. I played Beryl in the final play, A Talk In the Park, where the five characters talked at (rather than to) each other as they sat on a series of park benches. It's an interesting visual approach to use a bench, made for more than one, to discuss loneliness. Humans are by nature gregarious. We like to be with others, to belong, to be part of a community (be that family, village, football supporters club or work force). It isn't surprising then that we fill our leisure spaces with seating made for more than one. Think of a bench. It could be a park bench, a garden bench, or even a church pew. Add a cast to your bench of one or more. What would your bench story be?

January can be such a grey month in so many ways - visually because of the weather and the lack of colour in our gardens, and emotionally due to the, again, weather, anti climax after the festive celebrations and probably the lack of cash until pay day. I don't really like grey. It's a non colour - not this, not that - a limbo shade that begs for direction. And yet, sometimes, we need that limbo, that pause, that rest.  Does the colour grey inspire you? What story could come from the concept of grey? 

Have you seen this Christmas advert yet? An elderly gentleman finds that the only way to bring his family together at Christmas is to fake his own death. This German advert has reduced most people I know to tears, including me. Many families only come together to celebrate weddings or commiserate the loss of a loved one. For me, Christmas was the main time each year when my own family gathered in one place - aunts, uncles, cousins, friends who meant as much to us as family too - and it was these gatherings that often created the stories my family would tell and re-tell. What Christmas tales did your family create from the yearly gatherings? Happy? Sad? Comical? All of those together?  Let me know.

Around this time every year, I compile a set of family photographs, one for each month, to create a calendar for the following year. December is a shot from the previous year. It's always a pleasure to look back over the last twelve months and remember. Looking back over my photographs for this year, along with the family shots are images that I took that don't show my family. They're shots of the garden or landscapes or other things that took my fancy. They tell a story in themselves. Choose twelve photos, one for each month of the year (November and December can be from past years if that's easier). Now, looking at the photos as a group, weave them together into a story. Here are mine. January February March April May June July August September October November December

It's autumn. The trees are shaking off their greenery. My morning journeys are wrapped in fog from the fields that I drive past. There's a chill in the air even when the sun is shining. I can feel it in my bones (or maybe that's a touch of rheumatism). Everything is on the shift. This month's exercise is inspired by a word that, for me, denotes this time of year. Change is ever present although sometimes the change is so gradual that we don't notice it. On other occasions, change can be brutally quick, shocking even. If you were to write about 'change', what would your story tell me? Who would it be about? What would be its tone? How does change inspire you?

Taken from Wikipedia Did you have an imaginary friend when you were a child? I did. Mine was a puppy - a very naughty puppy that always stopped in the middle of the road to have a poo when we were supposed to be crossing over, much to the annoyance of my mother. I'm an only child and although my parents were loving, I was left to amuse myself for the large part of my time at home. I also wanted a puppy but after a failed attempt at mixing a toddler and a young red setter, my parents put thoughts of a pet aside until I was older. So I created a friend, and a puppy, to keep me company and make trips out with my parents much more interesting. What about you? Did you have an imaginary friend? What kind of conversation would you have with your imaginary friend if they visited you now?

It's raining today. It started raining last night and the sound of the rain on my window woke me this morning too. Rain always makes me think. Whether I'm in the house or walking in the downpour, my thoughts turn inward, which is handy for a writer. Your writing exercise for this month is to imagine yourself stranded indoors somewhere by the rain. Where are you? Are you alone? Does the rain make you feel sombre, refreshed or something else? Is it a choice to stay indoors or is something besides the weather keeping you there? Tell me a story.

The idea for this month's writing exercise sprouted on a weekend trip to a place called Bodelwyddan Castle. This is what got me thinking. My children dashed into the maze ahead of us and disappeared from view. We could hear them running along passageways, with the occasional glimpse of them through a gap in a hedge, but we didn't meet up again until we found the exit. Imagine a maze. What does it look like? What purpose does it serve? Is there a centre or just an exit? Is the entrance also the exit? Are the walls of the maze made from hedges, bricks or some other material? Is it open to the sky or enclosed by a roof? Is it joyful or frightening? Are there distractions along the way? Are there statues in your maze? Can you see the light of the sky? Do you cross waterways? Are there clues in your maze? Go on. Tell me about your maze.

Today, the weather is frosty and grey. There are no warm skies to compliment the remains of ice and white left by the night-chill. The view through my window is blanched, bled out, deathly pale. I long for a touch of blue or green to lift my mood. Weather is a constant although it is so commonplace that we don't always notice it. Rain. Snow. Fog. Sun. It all affects us in some way - the clothes we wear, the route we take to work, and how we feel when we step out of the door on a morning. It can also be a mood setting device in our writing. Dark clouds can bring a feeling of impending doom. Floods suggest the loss of control. Snow can be magical or a blanket over what is buried beneath it. Sunshine lends optimism. Victorian smog added to the element of mystery and something unpleasant lurking unseen in Gothic novels. There are so many ways that weather can be used to affect the reader. Write an opening paragraph where the weather creates a mood.

As you know, I'm  taking part in NaNoWriMo this month (National Novel Writing Month). A large part of the NaNoWriMo experience is writing freely, without edit, and just keeping going. That's one of the reasons that it doesn't suit a lot of writers. Some people can just go for it full-pelt, while others need to stop and consider, research, edit a bit, and so on. So in honour of NaNoWriMo, the exercise I'm setting this month is to write for at least twenty minutes in the spirit of 'full-pelt'. Don't plan. Don't think. Just write. Don't edit and read back. Just keep going. Good luck.

What's in a name? Does a person's name inform us of their character in any way? Can it make us perceive them in a certain manner? Can Cyril or Sophie ever be a believable villain? Likewise, can Victor or Goneril be cute or loveable? When  we read a book, does a character's name create an expectation? In my plays, I always start with a concept/setting and a list of characters. For instance, Dead Fit began like this: Exercise class at a community centre. Mature, glamorous aerobics instructor Janitor Elderly couple Two young men Two female friends Middle aged woman and her daughter. These are the  bones of the play. At this point, the cast are faceless. I have a silhouette of who they will be but that is all. It isn't until I name them, that I begin to discover their personalities and their patterns of speech. I want the aerobics instructor to be 'mature' and yet glamorous, pretentious even. She's very 'darling'y and dramatic. The name...

This is something we'll be seeing a lot of soon in the UK- a street covered in autumn leaves. My children are almost past the age to kick around in leaves but whenever we pass a pile of leaves like this, there's always the temptation. What could lie beneath this layer of leaves, beyond the obvious earwigs and worms? Something lost? Something hidden? What could you find if you bent to clear away the leaves?