Which stroke would your character swim? You have to KNOW before you can decide.
I’ve been reworking my middle grade novel, a contemporary fantasy about a young swimmer. Wanting to see if I was on the right track, or in the right lane, I took it took my critique group. Not surprisingly, they pointed out areas I needed to tighten as well as some typos. But I got another comment as well.
“There is no event where you go from butterfly to freestyle.”
“Then I wonder why I did that? Write it down because I’m going to have to noodle it over.”
In addition to writing me a note, the young critiquer pointed it out another time or three. Clearly, this was a very important point for her. He had to swim the various stroked in the same order as an individual medley (IM) or it was wrong.
I got it.
Back at home, I noodled it over. Why had I put the strokes in that order? I’m pretty sure it was the order suggested to me by a certain swimmer I just happen to live with but I couldn’t actually remember. Since the character was simply enjoying the glory of water after a day at school, I wasn’t sure it mattered.
Finally, I managed to track down my primary swimming source and explained my problem to him. ”Would my character swim the strokes out of order?”
“Out of order for what? I thought he was just having fun, not swimming an IM.”
“It is just for fun. Does that matter?”
“It depends. Who is he more like, me or Isaiah?”
“You.”
“Then he wouldn’t care. There’s not a set order for fun. Unless your Isaiah, then you have to swim them in the same order as an IM or your head might explode.”
Eventually, I decided not to change it. He’s just having fun and he’s the kind of kid who not only wouldn’t care but might also swim them out of order just to tweak his best friend. That said, I didn’t know which way to do it until I thought about my character.
For more on how your character determines how you write about a given situation, read my post today on the Muffin.
–SueBE
he’s the kind of kid who not only wouldn’t care but might also swim them out of order just to tweak his best friend
I love this description. It reminds me a little of my husband, who recently grew a beard to show his face who was boss and to annoy his mother, who prefers men clean-shaven. Your character sounds ornery, which describes most of the people I know. I like him already.
Comment by Kay Kauffman — March 13, 2013 @ 3:50 pm |
Kay,
Let’s not get my husband and your husband together. I’m just saying. There is a reason I write ornery so well. Let’s just say, our son got a double dose.
–SueBE
Comment by suebe — March 13, 2013 @ 7:24 pm |
Your son sounds like all three of mine.
My middle son, Cricket, has recently taken to crying in the car every time his little brother, Thumper, starts squawking (they’re one and two). Apparently Cricket finds it very upsetting when he can’t make Thumper bend to his will. Either he’ll have to get over that, or he’s going to spend a lot of time crying in the future because I don’t think Thumper plans to change any time soon. 
Comment by Kay Kauffman — March 14, 2013 @ 3:37 pm |
You would laugh yourself silly at my son and niece then.
Bicker, bicker, bicker.
“It’s time to go home.”
“But you just got here. When can she come back?”
My sister and I laugh about it all the time.
And, yes, the pair frequently inspire stories and characters.
–SueBE
Comment by suebe — March 14, 2013 @ 5:07 pm |
Aren’t kids funny? My oldest son is nine and my step-daughter is ten. The four of them all get along well for the most part, but Tomcat just killed me the other day. We were in the car and he was trying to distract his brothers. Cricket was complaining that Thumper had hit him, even though they were both strapped into their car seats and Thumper couldn’t reach him.
Tomcat was telling my husband about this a little later in the evening since he hadn’t been there to witness the scene; he thought it was the funniest thing ever, apparently, and at the time, he had scolded Cricket. My husband looked at Tomcat and, with a smile, said, “See why we always ask you and Tadpole (my step-daughter) what really happened when you two tell us something like that?”
But probably my most recent favorite story happened a few nights ago. Tadpole and Tomcat were having Mike and Ikes for dessert and my husband came in with a bowl of ice cream. Tadpole immediately started whining.
“How did you get ice cream?” she demanded.
Without missing a beat, Tomcat replied, “Probably with an ice cream scoop.”
Comment by Kay Kauffman — March 14, 2013 @ 5:52 pm |