Enigma Excerpt

A writing exercise using a part of Enigma Part 1

Enigma Excerpt

 

Let us go to the pool I think to myself as I awake in my bed. These silk burgundy sheets feel good in my skin and fall on the floor as I put my feet on the cold marble floor. The room is my sanctuary (well, sometimes) with muted colors with abstract art hung on the walls. My large plush bed is in the center of the room. The headboard is customized with musical notes and it adds artistic flair. As I am putting on my silk navy blue robe, I hear the panting, barking and paws of my loyal German Shepard as he enters the room from the French doors. There is a panoramic view with a balcony on one side of the room, overlooking the cityscapes of Los Angeles. You can see the twinkling lights from the distance. Maxwell hopes on the bed and bark, trying to get my attention. He puts his head under my hand and I know that he wants a pet. I pet his thick black fur and marvel at his tan markings on his chest and attempt to hold his fluffy tail. I head into my closet.

 “ You coming, Max?” I ask him

He barks in response, wagging his tail and proceeds to follow me. The closet is a fashion haven: a meticulously organized displayed mix of thrift store finds and haute couture clothes and accessories. Rows of designer dresses from Balmain and Versace, each a work of art, share space with carefully arranged shoes, from elegant heals to snickers from Goodwill. There are also a few swimsuits. One being an elegant deep burgundy one piece suit that mixes classic charm and modern design. I choose that one for it complimenting my hourglass figure and head to the bathroom which also a mix of classic and modern.   

There is a vanity that is adorned with gleaming silver trays that hold my skincare products. Near the products is a cluster of scented candles that provide a soft glow. The shower, encased in glass, is spacious, and the tiles evoke a sense of serenity with earthly tones. I take off my robe slowly just in case someone is watching, and then my nightgown and put on the swimsuit. I exit the bathroom, where Maxwell is waiting. He can sense when I need privacy. And what if someone, like a photographer, was there with me, or worse? We exit the bedroom and go downstair to the foyer. The foyer is a minimalist dream, with marble floors and a statement chandelier that is casting shadows on the wall. There is a contemporary console table with abstract sculptures and a vase of freshly cut lilies, lavender, and roses. A grand mirror reflects the entrance, creating an illusion of endless space. Right next to it is the door to hallway which leads to the living room and pool.

Transitioning seamlessly from the living room, the glass doors open onto the outdoor pool area. The pool, a shimmering oasis, mirrors the azure sky above. The edges of the pool are lined with lounge chairs, inviting moments of repose beneath the warm sun.

Surrounding the pool is a carefully landscaped garden, a tapestry of greenery and vibrant blooms. Tall palms sway gently, casting shadows on the sunlit patio. A contemporary pergola shelters an outdoor seating area, providing a refuge for moments of contemplation or lively conversations under the open sky.

The poolside exudes an air of sophistication, with strategically placed outdoor lighting that transforms the space into an enchanting retreat as the sun sets. The rhythmic sound of water gently lapping against the pool's edge creates a tranquil ambiance, inviting a sense of calm and indulgence.

Together, the living room and outdoor pool form a seamless narrative of modern luxury and curated elegance, offering a haven for relaxation and contemplation in the embrace of opulent surroundings.

Emerging from the refreshing embrace of the pool, a sense of accomplishment lingers in the air. The droplets of water glisten on the burgundy swimsuit, reflecting a moment of pride in the rhythmic strokes beneath the azure surface.

As I ascend back to the haven of my room, the journey is interrupted by the arrival of Jorge, a culinary maestro and faithful companion to Maxwell. With a friendly smile, he presents a selection of menu options, each a culinary masterpiece waiting to unfold. The aroma of possibilities fills the space as he details the flavors and textures that await in each dish.

Simultaneously, Jorge extends a thoughtful array of choices for Maxwell's afternoon stroll, a curated exploration for the loyal German Shepherd. Parks, gardens, and tree-lined avenues become the canvas for Maxwell's adventure, with Jorge offering insights into each option, tailoring the walk to match Maxwell's energy and curiosity.

Reviews

[JayG]

Well, you did ask... 😆

• Let us go to the pool I think to myself as I awake in my bed.

Here’s where you run off the rails, for reasons that aren’t obvious to you. Why? Because you begin reading already knowing where we are, who we are, and what’s going on. From a reader’s viewpoint?

1. Let “us” go? We don’t yet know where we are in time and space; who we are as a person; what kind of pool; and, go there for for what?

So yes, we have a true statement, but without context, for a reader, it’s just words in a row, meaning uncertain. We don’t even know the gender of the speaker. You do, and so, it makes sense to you. But what good does that do the reader?

We write from our own chair, of course, but we must edit from that of a reader, one who has only the meaning suggested by your words, based on THEIR life-experience, not your intent.

2. What good does it do the reader to know that someone unknown is in what they feel is their bed, when we know not even the time of day. This could be from a nap, a drug binge, or a night's sleep. We could be in a palace, a hovel, or a spacecraft. You know, The one in the bed knows. The reader? Not a clue. But who was it written for?

See the problem?

But let’s pull back to the more immediate problem — the one causing the others: This is not written as fiction is. It’s a transcription of you telling the story to the reader, as if at a campfire, and doing so in cinematic terms, in a medium that does not produce images or sound.

That matters because you spend lots of words on visuals that are irrelevant to what’s going on, which slows the reading and dilutes impact.

Sure, when you talk about the headboard being customized with musical notes it calls up the image that’s stored and waiting in your mind, and so, the scene lives. To the reader? It calls up the image that’s stored and waiting in YOUR mind. How can that help the reader, who wants to know what’s going on, not how something the protagonist is ignoring looks.

What you’re doing is what most of us do when we turn to fiction, transcribing yourself at the podium. That works for you. But storytelling is a performance art, where HOW you tell the story matters as much as what you say. So the reader must be able to see your gestures, your body language, the changes in facial expression and eye movement. When storyterlling, your voice will change tempo and intensity. You'll pause meaningfully for breath, and all the vocal tricks a storyteller. must know, But for the reader it’s the dispassionate words of an unseen and unheard external observer.

Think about it. When you tell a story in person you’re substituting your performance for those of all the actors in the film version. Your descriptions substitute for the scenery. But on the page we have all that. Why not let the actors do their job? When you appear on stage, talking TO the reader and giving a secondhand report of events, you kill all sense of realism.

Take a trip to YouTube and watch the trailer for the film, Stranger than Fiction.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0iqZD-oTE7U

It will show you what should happen when you step on stage among the actors. It's a film that only a writer can truly appreciate.

Here’s the problem, and it’s so common that I call it The Great Misunderstanding: Universally, we leave school believing that writing-is-writing, and that we have that part of being an author taken care of. But in reality, we leave our school days as prepared to write fiction as to embalm the deceased. So, we turn to writing fiction with the nonfiction report-writing skills of school and the result, as might be respected, reads too much like a report — though not for the author, who begins reading with full context, backstory, and intent guiding them. For them the narrator’s voice, their voice, is filled with the perfect emotion for the task. And anything you left out because it seemed too obvious to mention, will be filled in as you read, and never noticed as a problem.

And since you’ll not address the problem you don’t see as being one...

Make sense? It’s certainly bad news, I know, but you have about 97% of those who submit their work to publishers or agents as company, so it’s more a rite-of-passage than a disaster. And it’s one every successful writer passes through. And of more importance, it’s fixable.

The thing no one tells us in school is the goal of fiction. Nonfiction’s goal is to inform. Fiction's, though, is to entertain, by providing an emotional experience. As E. L. Doctorow put it: “Good writing is supposed to evoke sensation in the reader. Not the fact that it’s raining, but the feeling of being rained upon.” And no way we can do that with our school-day writing skills. So, it’s not a matter of talent or how well you write.

The fix? Simple. Add the missing skills and practice them till they’re as intuitive to use as the skills you now use. At first, it will be like learning the waltz, you count your steps, mechanically, till they’re automatic enough to embellish without thinking about it.

Several suggestions.

First, for what it may be worth as an overview, my articles and videos are meant, not as a how-to, but as an orientation on the major differences between the writing skills of school and those we would learn in earning a degree in Commercial Fiction Writing.

As an introduction to the actual skills of the profession, the article I link to below, on Writing the Perfect Scene, is a condensation and simplification of two critical skills that can pull the reader into the scene and make it seem so real that if someone insults our protagonist the reader will become angry.

http://www.advancedfictionwriting.com/art/scene.php

Give it a try. It has the power to transform your writing, and will probably be a “How could I not have seen it, myself?” experience. Chew on it till it makes sense, and try it, yourself, counting steps as you make use of MRUs till it becomes automatic. I think you’ll be amazed at how much more real it makes the scene. I certainly was when I learned how to use them. And it made such a difference in my writing that a year after discovering the book it was condensed from, I got my first yes from a publisher after writing six novels that received only rejections. Maybe it can do that for you.

If after playing with what the article gives you, you want more, download the book the article was condensed from, from the address below. It’s an older book, and out of copyright. And like the men of his time, Dwight Swain assumes that serious writers are male. But that aside, I have found no other book even close to it, so far as providing the basics of how to make your words sing to the reader:

Copy/paste the address into the URL window of any Internet page and hit Return to get there.

https://archive.org/details/TechniquesOfTheSellingWriterCUsersvenkatmGoogleDrive4FilmMakingBsc_ChennaiFilmSchoolPractice_Others

Sorry my news wasn’t better. I know what something like this feels like. I’ve been there. But still, you did ask, and knowing the problem is the first step toward solving it.

Hang in there, and keep on writing.

Jay Greenstein
Articles: https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/the-grumpy-old-writing-coach/
Videos: https://www.youtube.com/@jaygreenstein3334