Members of the Creative Writing Club focused on characters, discussing their favourites and least favourites and considering what makes a character likeable, interesting and unique.
The following are examples of character developments put together by some members of the club:
The middle-aged man sat on the cold path with a sued coffee cup beside him. There were a few coins in it. The only thing to keep him warm was a ripped up rug and a coat, the only things he had left of his old life besides the small photograph of his family that he had tucked away in his pocket. He had messy hair and a dirty face from the paths he had slept on. He looked up at the people walking by, hopeful that one person would have a kind heart and give him a few coins to buy a warm coffee. Not one of them stopped, not even the rich looking people who were bound to have a few euro in their pockets. – Kate Ballance
He is of average height, if not a little on the short side and is in his late fifties, if not his early sixties. His hair is greying. Strands of silver run through shaggy, dark hair that reaches just below his ears. His face is shrouded in a grey hood which folds into a sleek coat. The hood casts a shadow over half of his face but if you peer beneath it bright, green, sharp eyes are revealed beneath bushy dark eyebrows. His nose is crooked and sits at an angle, as if it has been broken and pushed back into place. His mouth is set in a straight line, giving him a grim look. His skin is sallow and leathery and looks well worn. His limbs are toned and muscled and a scar runs down the side of his neck where it meets broad shoulders enveloped in his coat. – Caitriona Hosford
I looked at the distorted reflection in the spoon and sighed. I didn’t like what I saw. The makeup I'd loved only moments before, I decided quickly, was horrible. Grunting I plunged the spoon into my cup and stirred the steaming coffee, its smoke warming my face.
Stepping into the cold, I clutched the warm mug. Locking my door I could picture how I looked. My face blank, as always. Plain, unemotional. It’s how we survive until the Awakening ceremony, until I'm free. I had deep brown, nearly black, eyes with matching dark brown hair that reached above my shoulders. It fell in a heart shape around my face and caressed my cheeks softly. I had sharp features and high cheekbones with lips that, like my eyes, were too big for my face.
Sighing, I began to walk, my head automatically falling to the ground, watching each step I took. I was tall with a thin figure and broad shoulders and hips that swayed with each step. Sipping my coffee I noticed that my mouth was numb, I had burnt it badly.
Jumping up the steps I walked into the office of Dr. Elizabeth Ryder's. Ignoring the receptionist I continued into my psychologist. She had a mirror, notepad and pencil on her desk.
"Ah, Annabel. We're going to work on your image and conduct today." Dr. Ryder said. She was short and stumpy with cold blue eyes. As always, I remained silent.
` "We're changing the world here, one broken teen at a time. You will co-operate with me or else you'll be sent away to the asylum outside the Wall."
I hate her, the thought echoed in my brain as I sat down, seized up by fear of the inevitable. I was going to the asylum whether I wanted to or not. I could see it in the gleam of her dead, icy eyes. – Lindsay O’Donnell
Our club has also worked on settings, focusing on how to effectively describe a time and place to a reader.
Here is a sample of what they have produced:
I stepped out of the café and was hit by a huge wall of sweltering heat. I immediately noticed the loud hum of human activity. There was a large mob of bustling people barely scraping by each other on the packed path trying to get to work, home or wherever they needed to go with intense speed. It seemed I was the only stationary thing. I crossed the road to get to the sunny side of the street because I had a chronic fear of the other. As I ran my hand against the rough concrete riddled with bright, colourful graffiti I heard my favourite busker in front of me and the coins crashing as they fell into his guitar case. The harsh smell of coffee comforted me and snapped me out of my trance just in time to notice my turn. – Helen O’Beirne
As I pushed open the large wooden door and entered the kitchen, my nose was immediately filled with so many different smells. It was hard to tell exactly what food I smelt. I could taste the species and sauces in the air, along with a hundred more flavours. There were men and women in white coats rushing around and preparing food for the waiters who were racing in an out collecting plates of food and returning with empty ones. There were pots bubbling on every stove and a very tall man stood in the middle of the kitchen barking orders. His voice was loud and booming, so loud that it could be heard over the crashing of pots and pans. I ran my hand over the smooth, warm stainless steel counter and smiled. It was good to be back. – Orlagh Allen
Here is a sample of what they have produced:
I stepped out of the café and was hit by a huge wall of sweltering heat. I immediately noticed the loud hum of human activity. There was a large mob of bustling people barely scraping by each other on the packed path trying to get to work, home or wherever they needed to go with intense speed. It seemed I was the only stationary thing. I crossed the road to get to the sunny side of the street because I had a chronic fear of the other. As I ran my hand against the rough concrete riddled with bright, colourful graffiti I heard my favourite busker in front of me and the coins crashing as they fell into his guitar case. The harsh smell of coffee comforted me and snapped me out of my trance just in time to notice my turn. – Helen O’Beirne
As I pushed open the large wooden door and entered the kitchen, my nose was immediately filled with so many different smells. It was hard to tell exactly what food I smelt. I could taste the species and sauces in the air, along with a hundred more flavours. There were men and women in white coats rushing around and preparing food for the waiters who were racing in an out collecting plates of food and returning with empty ones. There were pots bubbling on every stove and a very tall man stood in the middle of the kitchen barking orders. His voice was loud and booming, so loud that it could be heard over the crashing of pots and pans. I ran my hand over the smooth, warm stainless steel counter and smiled. It was good to be back. – Orlagh Allen