If you saw the comments on last week’s post 6 Reasons You’ll Never Be A Writer, you’ll know that one reasons touched a nerve with a lot of people:
#6: You’re Too Nice
Commenter Michelle Kobayashi captured the mood when she said:
“My first 17 chapters were very nice. There was little conflict and the characters worked out their issues reasonably.
“It sucked.
“Then I learned about inciting incidents and the need for conflict. That’s when the fun began. One character in particular is so rude I cringe when I reread her scenes. And I wouldn’t change a thing. Embrace your inner sadist indeed!”
(Thanks to Donald Maass for the catchy slogan at the end there!)
Seems like this is something ia lot of us need practise with. So,
The Prompt
Write a scene featuring a truly loathsome (but believable) character. They don’t have to be a Disney Villain. It could be that really annoying person at work who has no redeeming qualities that you can find, no matter how hard you try.
Dig deep. Remember how annoying, frustrating, irritating your least favorite person in the world is. Pair them up with your favorite hero-type and give them a scene.
Then let your hero say all the things you’ve rehearsed in your head but would never say, because you’re just, well, too nice.
Let it all out. Make us (and yourself) cringe.
The Rules:
- You should use the prompt in some way in your story (however tenuous the connection)
- You must write the story in one 24 hr period – the faster the better.
- Post your scene in the comments — if you’re brave enough.
- Find something nice to say about someone else’s story and leave a comment. Everybody needs a little support!
Optional Extras:
Share this challenge on Twitter or Facebook
Some tweets/updates you might use:
Embracing My Inner Sadist: http://bit.ly/ehx03t #WriteOnWed #storyaday
I never knew I could be so mean! #WriteOnWed #storyaday http://bit.ly/ehx03t
This week’s #WriteOnWed short story prompt is “Embrace Your Inner Sadist″: http://bit.ly/ehx03t
Come and write with us today: http://t.co/OpHsJ04 #WriteOnWed #storyaday
See my story – and write your own: http://t.co/OpHsJ04 #WriteOnWed #storyaday
If you would like to be the Guest Prompter, click here.
With thanks to my friends at Creative Copy Challenge for inspiration and support. Go to Creative Copy Challenge every day for a new writing prompt and supportive community of writers.
She wasn’t a large woman. In fact, that was one of the reasons she was here: any further up the school and her students would have been towering over her, and that wouldn’t have suited Janet McDougall at all. Oh no, not at all.
She sighed as she looked around the room. The leaves hadn’t yet turned brown and already she had the measure of this crop. The slow fat kid. The sly boy and his two stupid hangers-on. The two girls who were going to be beautiful and lucky all their lives. The boy whose mother taught here too – she hadn’t decided how to deal with him yet. The boy with ‘difficulties’ and a lame hand who had no business being in a proper school. The numberless nobodies wedged into uniform seats, wearing uniform clothes who would grow larger, replicate themselves, send their spawn back to this school and eventually die, unremarked and unremarkable. And oh yes, don’t forget the know-it-all girl sitting in a patch of late summer sun; glasses and buck teeth and an answer for everything. Janet loathed the know-it-alls more than anything. Every year there was one: some kid who didn’t know when to shut up, keep her head down, do what was expected. It made things so…awkward.
She looked at the girl, pulling her books out of her bag, arming herself for another day in the front lines of the battle for knowledge. Janet’s nostrils drew back, the reek of independent thought spreading across the room towards her from the loathsome child by the window. Always first with her hand in the air. Always eager to share an opinion. Always undermining her with her ‘but, Miss’ and her “I looked that up and…”.
No matter. Janet’s thin lips drew back from her teeth as she looked at the girl. The sooner she taught her the real lesson – to know her place – the better. The girl would thank her one day. Really, she would.
There was a great shuffling and scraping of chairs as Mrs McDougall swept towards the blackboard, a long piece of white chalk balanced between her curved, painted nails.
“Let’s try this again,” she said, turning on the class with a sudden savagery unsoftened by her thin-lipped sneer. “You couldn’t seem to manage fractions yesterday, so we’re doing it all again today, and every day until you get this very straightforward lesson it into your,” she paused to say the next word internally, then finished, “… heads.”
Her eyes raked across the room, watching all the shoulders sag and landing at last on the blanching face of the girl by the window. Excellent, Janet thought to herself. And we’ll keep working on all your worst subjects until you see that I do know more than you. And then we’ll find some more things you don’t know, until at last you come crawling to me for help.
And then we’ll see, Missy. Then we’ll see whether or not I decide to give it.