Two Knitted Scarves: A Christmas Fantasy

Update -- I tweeked a few things.  Changed a few words and some grammar.  It's still not perfect, but I do tend to aim high.

This is a story I have worked on since New Years.  It's based on Christmas in Indianapolis, so geographically, unless you live in Indianapolis, it may not make sense.  I keep tweaking it.  I need some feedback.  Tell me what you think.

Two Knitted Scarves: A Christmas Fantasy

The day after Thanksgiving, on Monument Circle, marked the start of the festive season.  The high anticipation of the holiday joy filled the air.  The stage was ready.  Wooden soldiers stood steadfast,  preparing for the glorious lighting of the world's tallest Christmas tree. 

That clear sunny day, the cochineal red knitted scarf with tassels clung to its owners coat as it passed under the clock, watched by a small metal cherub perched on top.  Crossing Washington, rounding the corner, a shiny brass quintet played out.   On the Circle.  This Christmas Season.

Passing the Hilbert, where inside the symphony performs its annual holiday tradition, the red scarf had a chance meeting -- a pure white woolly scarf with similar tassels.   The two brushed and time stood still.  As if that moment was designated for their meeting.

They paused, eyeing each other, and formed smiles.  Excuses and pardons were uttered in soul mate stares.  The two knitted scarves awkward, yet sincere.  A slight breeze fluttered them into waving goodbye with hopes that a meeting again soon would be.  Near or far. This Christmas Season.

That clear star-filled night, a thousand listened to singers bringing merriment and cheer.  Knowing the appointed moment the mayor would usher in a tower of lights was near.  Among the sea of rosy-red faces, the two scarves stood in nearby places, chatting with friends.

A quick blustery breeze raised their tassels among the impatient, as if fate signaled them to meet again.  They spied each other.   With smiles of delight, they met again this brisk winter night.  Caught in the instant that the lights glowed bright.  In the crowd. This Christmas Season.

As soon as they hoped, the two scarves would see each again.  The very next day hot chocolate at the corner coffeehouse now decked out for for the Yule.  They talked and laughed as they hung around their owner's necks.  The two knitted scarves, one white and one red.

Tickets procured for the symphony show, to hear music to bring on the holiday glow.  Dancing Santas, Sandi and chorus, then the flight of reindeer.  Strolling after, around they went, enjoying the flurrying of gently falling snow.  Guarded by Victory.  This Christmas Season.

The red and white scarves planned yet again.  On Mass Ave for lunch, to shops full gift seekers.  Silver, toys, homemade, dog biscuits, and world fare.  The two then went onto the Phoenix for a great vaudevillian show.  Their tassels gently touched and a spark ignited.

To the deck-out Lilly's the following week, then viewing some art.  One other night, the Men's Chorus in their black tuxes, to hear their voices unite.  The scarves savored the church setting with carols rejoicing about the birth of the Babe.  Praising the one.  This Christmas Season.

The holidays passed ever so quickly.  Before the scarves knew, it would be the end of the season.  As the new galloped up, they met for a night of good cheer.  Watching the ticking clock bring the end of the year.  Tassels entangled, ending that one with lover's delight.

They strolled round, to see the world's tallest tree.  The white lights all a blaze. A clear starry night.  The chill in the air kept them intertwined.  A miracle occurred during that holiday.  Two knitted scarves discovered one and another. Beginning their journey.  This Christmas Season.

Finding Inspiration

I've had several sources of inspiration over the years that have formed this one big mass I call my imagination.  It's multi-generational, multi-faceted, a little multi-lingual.

My most earliest source of inspiration that I can remember was Walt Disney and his world.  His world of animated shorts, films, and of course, the Magic Kingdom, where my imagination ran wild.   As I was six years old when my family first went.  Mickey Mouse, Minnie, Pluto, Donald, Goofy, and all the others there to greet me.  The lands -- Adventure, Frontier, Tomorrow, Fantasy -- and their attention to detail.  The rides.  The Haunted Mansion.  Pirates of the Caribbean.  Peter Pan's Flight.  All spirited me away into a brief world of imagination.

Another source was the world of Hanna-Barbera.  I was a kid who grew up on Saturday morning cartoons.  I remember on Friday nights before the first Saturday of the new season they aired a special to introduce the  new cartoons.   Scooby-Doo, The Flintstones and all their family and friends.

Movies galore!   I have always been a movie fan and sometimes film my book as I go along.  In other words, I cast my characters, provide wardrobe, dialogue, actions, etc.   I've found my biggest sources of inspiration through Steven Spielberg, George Lucas, Alfred Hitchcock, Roger Corman -- to name a few.  Not to mention the numerous individual movies.

My most important source of inspiration has been people.   I can sit and people-watch for a couple of hours and observe them without their ever noticing.   And that's only part of it.   The best part is that I pick ideas for characters.   The way they move their head.  Their mannerisms.  The way they wear their hats. The way they sip their tea.   (Oops.. Did mention that I also listen to a lot a music.)  I find it useful to make mental notes of people's habits, traits, and overall appearance.

People.  You all make great sources of inspiration.  Find your own inspiration and embrace it.

CSM 



 

Lives of Their Own

I've learned something interesting about characters in books.  And I really don't care about what anyone else has to say about it.

Fictional characters are real.  They are real in the sense that there you are with them on the adventure, be it fun or tiresome.   You hear their voices.   They tell you things.   They share intimate details.  You can smell them.

I had to ponder this idea of real fictional characters for a while to arrive at some conclusions.

Conclusion 1 -- You know someone just like the character.  Or you are the character.   It's called association.   You associate with them, their traits, mannerism, bad breath, whatever.

Conclusion 2 -- If they're your own creation, you are seeing something in them you like or dislike about yourself.   A psychiatrist could maybe help you sort that out.  

Conclusion 3 -- You just love them so much, you want them to be real.  I couldn't imagine what life was like during the age before electronic media.   I could read Winnie the Pooh and imagine what he was like moving, talking, bouncing along.   But to see him come to life in an animated movie...  Now that gives the character a whole new dimension.  My even better example is this one -- Harry Potter.  I remember reading the first book, then the movie came out.   From that moment on, the visual story in my head while reading the books had Daniel Radcliffe as Harry Potter as well as the rest of the cast.
My own characters have come to life.  I've walked with Sam and Mrs. Steers through the back streets of London.  I've had to sit back and watch bad things happen to them for the sake of the story.  I dream about them at night.

It's hard work to write, but worth the prizes.

CSM

Writing and Emotions

Moody, angry, loving, caring, bored, mellow... I've felt many emotions while writing. 

I've decided to put them to use whenever I feel them.   Write the parts/chapters your mood fits. 

In other words, feeling angry? Write that chapter where you kill off the villain.  Feeling sad, write about his funeral (if you actually liked him or felt sympathy or empathy for this nearly killed villain).  Feeling sentimental, write about his past and how it lead to his villainy.

I had anger the other day.  I felt some pretty strong anger and wrote the most heart-wrenching chapter that night.  I can hardly wait to re-read it in a few days or weeks.   I'll probably wait until the anger in myself has subsided.  From there, I might be able to read in an objective way.

Emotions and their energy shouldn't go to waste.   When someone gets mad at you and you get angry in return, don't let the moment pass lightly.  Take that energy that you might use stewing over the situation and write those parts of your book that reflect it.

I dreaded writing a significant chapter in book two.   I didn't or couldn't face it.  It was there.  Waiting patiently for the words to form into a significant chapter.   I just couldn't do it.  But, the other day, all it took was one person with a chip on their shoulder to drive me right to that chapter.  The anger I felt flowed right onto the electronic page.  I felt a certain level of catharsis.  And I actually felt better.  The horrid chapter got written.  And now I can move on.  Hopefully, I'll be able to go back and read it.   I'm not kidding when I say it was a heart-wrenching chapter to write.

Emotion.  Use it.

CSM