This post is going to be a little different. I am going to free write about a character I am developing to use in future short stories. Some of what I write will be a little stream of conscious, and some of it may be a little rough around the edges or inconsistent. The point is to start to develop Mark's background, interests, habits, personality, relationships, etc. This may include some incomplete scenes of Mark that might not make much sense. However, it will help me to flesh out who Mark is so that when I decide to follow his path in a future story, I will already "know" him.

While I am developing the character of Mark, some of the things I will think of are: what are his flaws, what kind of transformation is he capable of, what skills does he have, what sort of inner conflict is going on in his head, what kind of surprises can he give a reader? I will also, although perhaps secondarily, look at more traditional traits such as: what does he look like, what foods does he like, where is he from, what clothing does he wear, what is his sexuality, what sports does he play, what is his favorite type of TV show. While I will not be directly answering all of those questions in this post, I will be exploring them through a raw story-esque cacophony of words.

Mark

A young man who looks tired. Toiling away in the office from sun up to sun down. Never asking for more than he is given. When his alarm goes off, he lays in bed, waiting for the snooze function to ring the alarm again. He turns the alarm off moments before it goes off again. He doesn't want to wake his wife. He also doesn't want to get out of bed to go to work. Reluctantly, he makes his way to the kitchen, fumbles with the coffee, and brews a fresh pot. He stares out the window as he listens to the drip drip drip of the coffee hit the stainless steel carafe, until the drip becomes a splash, and finally a faint nothing as the timer beeps and smell of coffee fills his small apartment.

Mark grabs a stained coffee mug from the cupboard. As he pours his coffee from the carafe into his mug, a few solitary drops of coffee make their way to the floor. Mark sees this, but does nothing. He knows that by the time his wife awakes, the coffee droplets will already be gone.

Mark drinks his coffee, puts on the same white shirt he wears everyday, ties his tired tie, slips on his loafers with worn out heels that have been replaced more times than should be possible, and heads out the door.

The bus is late, cramped, and too hot. Mark sweats through his white shirt. He remembers his childhood, playing football on the beach, tackling his cousins into the crashing waves of Lake Superior. He remembers that summer when he and his cousins found a half-forgotten bottle of gin and took turns taking shots, chasing each swig with BBQ chips. He couldn't understand why all the adults were always drinking this stuff. It tasted like crap! But eventually, as Mark and his cousins passed the bottle around, taking turns trying to stomach just one more sip, a sense of calmness started pulsing through his body. It started in his cheeks, and with each beat of his frail heart, was carried from his fingers, to his toes, and back up through every inch of himself. Mark had never felt so light before, and he wasn't even thinking about getting caught, he felt too good. The bottle of gin was full enough to make Mark and his cousins drunk, but wasn't so full that they were hungover the next morning.

The bus pulled up to Mark's office, and Mark quickly snapped out of his childhood dream. It was Monday morning, and Mark was already late for work. He knew what his boss would say if he say him coming in to sit at his desk after 9:00. Taking deep breaths, Mark stepped up to the front door of his office and whispered affirmations. He knew he would need them if he were to get through the week, let alone this morning.

Mark walked through the front door of the building, waved sheepishly to security, mumbling a morning greeting under his breath, and shuffled over to the elevator. Mark's office was on the 13th floor. This didn't bother him, but he often wondered if it should. Perhaps, just maybe, if he were more superstitious, he could do something to change his luck. But, as chance would have it, Mark was not the superstitious kind, and worked through all of his demons with the logical prowess of a high school math student. Mark fancied himself as a man of reason, but his reasoning could only ever fare as well as his confidence would allow it.

As the elevator dinged, marking its arrival to the 13th floor, Mark stepped out, lowered his head in hopes of disappearing, and swiftly walked down the hall to his cubicle. The rest of the office was already busy at work, and Mark was able to get to his cubicle without drawing any attention to himself. There were no windows at the cubicle, and the only personal belongings Mark kept were a passport style photo of his wife, and an old leather bracelet that had been passed down to him from his grandfather, to his father, to Mark.

To be continued...

I will continue to develop the character of Mark through this sort of free writing exercise. I will try to see what types of situations he will get into, and see what his interactions with other characters look like. The other characters will not be fully developed, but could turn into something bigger, depending how things go.

Let me know if you enjoyed this exercise, and I will try to make it a more regular thing. I certainly enjoyed sitting down and just writing out a short piece of this character, and will make more progress with revealing as many parts of him as I can.