Ab Antiquo

Hello, writer dudebros

Skewl just started back up, and I am struggling with this week's exercise, which is to create a character with the Proust questionnaire and then start an opening of a novel using that character.

Iiiiiii hate the Proust questionnaire so much. I'm not sure what it is about the questions that I just do not vibe with on a character creation level. Maybe I just hate Proust lmao.

But anyway here's the writing exercise if you feel like suffering today. Pretty good exercise, all in all, even if it is kinda torturous

(p.s. yes i know it says "possible questions" but i'm gonna eat this fuckin frog and DO THE THING damn it)

Writing exercise
Tell me without telling me
For this week's exercise, you're going to start by picking a character. This may be a character you're thinking of writing about, or one from one of a book that you've read, or one you've just created. Any character will do.

Step 1: Start by interviewing your character to get to know them. Below are some questions that you might ask them, or you can make up your own. The idea is to get an idea of some of the elements that make up your character. Try to get quite detailed, specific answers to the questions you put to your character. Don't let them put you off with vague responses.
NOTE: This interviewing of our characters can be a great first step in getting to know them, but it is only a first step (and perhaps a somewhat superficial one).

Step 2: Now that you've got to know your character a bit better, get them to narrate the opening few paragraphs of a novel. In these paragraphs, they describe sitting down to a meal. They may be on their own, or they may be accompanied by others.

Your challenge is to give the reader the who, where and what of the novel and to give the reader information about the character without telling. You'll want to focus on their language, perhaps their descriptions of the meal, possibly dialogue or indeed any other tool. But keep reminding yourself that the goal is to tell without telling.

Some possible questions: The Proust Questions
The Proust Questions is a series of questions that the writer Marcel Proust popularised in the form of a parlour game. You might have encountered them already, as they are sometimes used in interviews. Here are some of them to get you going with this week's exercise. If you want more, google The Proust Questions.

What is your idea of perfect happiness?
What is your greatest fear?
What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Which living person do you most admire?
What is your greatest extravagance?
What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
What do you most dislike about your appearance?
Which living person do you most despise?
Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
When and where were you happiest?
Which talent would you most like to have?
If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
What do you consider your greatest achievement?
If you were to die and come back as a person or a thing, what would it be?
Where would you most like to live?
What is your most treasured possession?
Which historical figure do you most identify with?
Who are your heroes in real life?
What is your greatest regret?

[as Judas Iscariot]

Q: What is your idea of perfect happiness?
A: Ending. Once, several centuries ago, I answered this with companionship. Now I know that is as fleeting as the wind upon sails, coming and going with nary a thought to those who need it. Of all things, only lonliness persists. I wish an end to that. No afterlife, no spoils of Heaven nor labours of Hell. I just want to cease.

Q: What is your greatest fear?
A: A funny thing to ask an immortal. As others of my kind might answer and my first answer might suggest, it is being alone. At the end of earth, of time - who will be left?

Q: What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
A: My own ambition. It is a... [interviewee pauses, briefly] smothering thing that does not ever ebb, only sometimes eases.

Q: What is the trait you most deplore in others?
A: Self-righteousness.

Q: Which living person do you most admire?
A: Admire is strong word. I am quite fond of Neil Gaiman's works.

Q: What is your greatest extravagance?
A: Art. When a person fades, their imprint remains in what they have created.

Q: What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
A: Selflessness, martyrdom. Next question.

Q: What do you most dislike about your appearance?
A: My eyes often prevent me from blending as well as I might wish.

Q: Which living person do you most despise?
A: Again, a strong word. There are a number of warlords, politicians, and criminals I have a large distaste for. I have not felt true loathing in some time.

Q: Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
A: Quite. Indeed.

Q: When and where were you happiest?
A: There was this boy... [interviewee pauses, reminiscing with a smile] Several centuries ago, now. I turned him, of course. We spent a few decades together on the Caribbean. I often wonder what became of him.

Q: Which talent would you most like to have?
A: I have always wanted to sing.

Q: If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
A: My immortality.

Q: What do you consider your greatest achievement?
A: I wrote a book, once.

Q: If you were to die and come back as a person or a thing, what would it be?
A: A sturdy, oak coffee table. Silently appreciated, always useful, and adding to the ambience of a room.

Q: Where would you most like to live?
A: In a museum, surrounded by art and appreciating others enjoying it.

Q: What is your most treasured possession?
A: The original manuscript of The Catcher in the Rye.

Q: Which historical figure do you most identify with?
A: Marcus Junius Brutus.

Q: Who are your heroes in real life?
A: I have personally found little use for having heroes.

Q: What is your greatest regret?
A: You must be joking.

Now that you've got to know your character a bit better, get them to narrate the opening few paragraphs of a novel. In these paragraphs, they describe sitting down to a meal. They may be on their own, or they may be accompanied by others.

Your challenge is to give the reader the who, where and what of the novel and to give the reader information about the character without telling. You'll want to focus on their language, perhaps their descriptions of the meal, possibly dialogue or indeed any other tool. But keep reminding yourself that the goal is to tell without telling.

The wooden legs of the chair scrape along a stone floor as I withdraw it from the table, sliding silently into my spot. I have chosen the middle of the pack, where it is easier to become lost. Peter and John take seats on either side of me, while our host (of course) takes the center spot. The others, ten of them total besides myself and He, all watch him with the awe of mystified children. I despise them for it, my fists clenching beneath the table. Why can they not see Him for the hypocrite He is?

His gaze catches mine. It lasts only a moment, but a thousand words pass between us in the way his eyes soften with... pity. He knows, and He knows I know. My disdain intensifies, boiling deep in my chest. Who is He to pity me? We will see what his boundless empathy is worth soon enough. The others do not catch the moment and I force a quick smile, turning to engross myself in the deepening conversations around us.

Our food is brought out on wide silver trays minutes later. It is an extravagence in this impoverished town and I wonder idly if they too have fallen victim to His charisma. Warm bread and thick meats are stacked in front of us, the trays still steaming. Mouth watering, I push my simple linen robes aside and turn to enjoy it. If nothing else, good food should never go to waste. Nor good company, and He and I both know this to be the last time our merry troupe will dine as one.

Haven't finished this yet - it's not due until midnight on Sunday - but I thought I'd share what I've got so far because I think I'm warming up to the Proustian Questionnaire and this whole process, lmao. Stupid lecturers knowing what they're doing, grumble grumble.

What is your idea of perfect happiness?
In a brand new car with that brand new car smell, driving through big wide backroads—rolling grass and hills and green and cows and sheep and my brother and I in the backseat, eight and nine years old in a new country watching it all go by, both imagining what our lives are going to be like. All the new friends we’re going to make. All the adventures we’re going to have. Mama going “oh!” and pointing at shafts of sunlight coming down from the clouds and onto vineyards in the Wairarapa; Dad saying, “Those are called Fingers of God.” I imagine myself touched by that light. I imagine it growing in me and strobing out, making me glow, bathing this car and my family and this new country in light.

What is your greatest fear?
She looked at me like I was insane, and for a moment I could see myself through her eyes, pulling up the silverbeets and the green beans and the rhubarb with the chickweeds and buttercups, my destruction indiscriminate. I could see the mud on my boots and the red in my eyes, rictus-grinding my molars down into nothing and I could see the dirt on my knuckles, on my clothes, in my hair. I could hear myself tell her fuck this, fuck you, fuck all of it, and I saw myself years later, old and still tangled up in this garden without her.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
Don’t touch me, I said, when I wanted to say please help me. Fuck off, I said, when I wanted to tell her not to go. I said Leave me alone, when all I wanted to do was put the silverbeets back into the earth and forget any of this happened. I wanted to harvest them in the summer, in October, and get that wood fire oven we always talked about getting. Pizza outdoors with H and B. A pitcher of F’s shitty margarita mix. Rugby on the TV none of us ever watched.

What is the trait you most deplore in others?
The quieter the house, the bigger the fight. She’d sit at the dining room table chewing on her tongue and we knew to keep away because when she saw us she’d find something to pick at—my brother’s long hair, my too-large shirt, my too-short shorts, our grades, our friends; the one boyfriend I had one summer, a sweet-tempered brown-eyed kid she said must’ve been in the Mongrel Mob, look at his red sneakers. I tried to tell her, he’s not in the Mob, he’s just Maori, he’s brown, just like us, and she said, I am nothing like these people, now go put on something that doesn’t make you look like a motherless slut.

Which living person do you most admire?
She doesn’t talk to me now. I still see her sometimes; Wellington is a small city. She goes to the same bars, she stands in front of the same crowds, holding a microphone like it’s an extension of her arm and she says everything I’ve ever felt and felt stupid for feeling. Sometimes I think she can see me and sometimes I think that if I just catch her eye she’ll see how sorry I am for the silverbeets. I’m sorry about the green beans. I’ve planted new ones. They’re growing. I wish she could see them.

What is your greatest extravagance?
A pack of cigarettes every week. Real coffee. Epsom salts. A dog. A dog that looks at me like I’m his whole world even when I wake up feeling like dog shit. A dog I can look after. A dog I can’t disappoint.

What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
“I don’t know,” B says to me on the phone, the morning after. “You’re tore up. She’s tore up. Can’t you just let it go?”
I hang up. When he calls back, I let the phone ring.

What do you most dislike about your appearance?
Pinch your nose like this, Mama said, to make it grow. It’s too fat, too flat, too wide. No one will ever want you with a nose like that. Straighten your hair, put on more clothes—clothes that fit you, Sofia, for god’s sake, don’t slouch.

Which living person do you most despise?
She doesn’t talk to me now. I still see her sometimes; Wellington is a small city. She goes to the same bars, she stands in front of the same crowds, holding a microphone like it’s an extension of her arm and she says everything I’ve ever felt and felt stupid for feeling.

What is your idea of perfect happiness?
I never thought I'd even be able to be perfectly happy before, but somehow I'm coming round to the idea. So far... it's an inflatable pool full of ice for the huskies to splash around. It's boba tea traditions and homemade KFC. It's lazy mornings, tangled up in sheets and legs where the most discomfort you get is a numb arm from his head resting on it all night. It's a mundane, average thing that felt so far away.

What is your greatest fear?
That I'll ruin it. I'll ruin everything.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
I overthink to the point it can paralyse me from making choices sometimes. Or I overcomplicate a situation that's as simple as shit.

What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Dishonesty. If you're going to do anything, at least own it. I can't stand flakes who'll say one thing to your face then another to save face later.

Which living person do you most admire?
Jaqueline. She helped me get my mind and control back after it was fractured with the dog fights.

What is your greatest extravagance?
My Harley. Or my huskies? They're expensive fucking dogs.

What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
Virtues are fine until taken too far. Like justice? You get overzealous with it and it's corrupt and preachy a fuck. Humility? You get too humble and you're annoying as fuck and it becomes counterproductive - people then feed you ego to boost you up if you're overly humble. A lot of them can be overrated.

What do you most dislike about your appearance?
Keep mirrors away from me.

Which living person do you most despise?
What are you, a cop? ....Okay, no. His name is Nit and he was what the pits called a Handler. He conditioned me, brainwashed me. So I was an attack dog. I was to be sold to some fang or hunter or whatever the fuck weirdo liked the idea of having a werewolf on command. But he decided to call the deal off to keep me for himself.

He's not a problem anymore.

Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
Aight. Bet. Motherfucker.
Fuck. Absolutely fucking not.

I'm not aggressive, you are.

When and where were you happiest?
Now. I've always had moments where I thought I was happy, but this is the first time I feel peacefully happy. It could be better if mam was back but I have good people surrounding me and a place to call home. I don't call myself a stray anymore. I deserve a home.

Which talent would you most like to have?
Whatever talent himbos have to be so chipper would be great.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
My anger. I was easy to rile up into defending people I didn't need to, or being annoyed by people I didn't need to on behalf of how someone else disliked them. I was still conditioned to back up someone like a dog does its owner. I just never knew how to make my thoughts my own until now. So my anger was very reactive to whoever I chose as my loved one; if they were upset, I was upset. If they didn't like someone, I didn't like someone. And the way it showed was through aggression. Bared fangs, growling.

I'm working on it.

What do you consider your greatest achievement?
Getting my mind back? No offence but everything in comparison falls flat. There's still blips of struggling with it but I lost it to the point I was just a puppet and a feral attack dog. I can think again, for better or worse. I can be me. I can have my own opinion. I worked to get that fucking back.

If you were to die and come back as a person or a thing, what would it be?

Someone less cursed by the narrative, maybe.

Where would you most like to live?
I think I'm good where I'm at. I got a house we built ourselves, on Oriel's property that has other houses for the foxes. And Gealach is close by so it's a win/win.

What is your most treasured possession?
Currently, Oriel's fang. We ripped our fangs out as a show of loyalty to each other and mine's around his neck while his is around mine. Fangs are a bit of an obsession for me, so it's important.

Which historical figure do you most identify with?
None. You're supposed to learn from history, not repeat it. That said there's probably some asshole I'm like. I just don't want to think about that. It leads to either seeing your flaws and tragedy in them or overvaluing their greatness and trying to be delusional about how you have it to. Maybe some philosopher since I'm preaching.

Who are your heroes in real life?
My baba. My mam. Kiia. Oriel. Kei. Lyn. Mika. Jin.

What is your greatest regret?
I lost control one night and got out. There were a group of kids camping, enjoying themselves, laughing... I slaughtered them all and accidentally turned one of them. Lance didn't deserve that. Those kids didn't deserve that. All I had was the excuse I couldn't remember or control myself. He remembers it. That's the only time I've actually felt like a monster, despite all the shit I've done that also qualifies.

Now that you've got to know your character a bit better, get them to narrate the opening few paragraphs of a novel. In these paragraphs, they describe sitting down to a meal. They may be on their own, or they may be accompanied by others.

Your challenge is to give the reader the who, where and what of the novel and to give the reader information about the character without telling. You'll want to focus on their language, perhaps their descriptions of the meal, possibly dialogue or indeed any other tool. But keep reminding yourself that the goal is to tell without telling.

The laughter fills the air as they gather around the dining table, a scene he once mocked and sneered at; "I hate the white picket fence shit, men like me shouldn't get to sit at a table like that." The memory of a bitter, hurt dog snarled in his ear, the hackles raised as it snapped and demanded blood instead of comfort. His hand rose to scrub at the missing chunk of skin, rubbing over the jagged ear-tip where fangs once ripped it off for cheers and a chance to live another round. Only laughter now. Light and warm. Familial. The bickers of paint being smudged on a phone drown out those growls, as he looks up to see the smiling faces of Jin and Peater carrying through plates, past Si and Ash who're messing around about how messy he is with his art. It's a big table, and it's fully... it's grown since he last remembered.

The scent of fried chicken hits his nose, making his mouth water. The way it used to on a hunt or when filled with the dripping bits of jugular he ripped out. It's safe. It's safe. You're safe in the rosy film, where the faces who bare their fangs at you do it as cheerful smiles. Not challenges. Where the eye contact is endearing, engaged with what you're saying. Not threatening.

Oriel steps in, a firm hand being set to his shoulder as he dips to offer him his boba tea - brown sugar, a classic of course. A kiss is set to his temple, with it bringing the scent of outside and pine. Campfire smoke always was his favourite smell. It was comforting, and the pine mingled so well it felt like being kissed by the forest and told you're free.

Scent is a big thing for you to keep you sane, and here with the porcelain plates filled with fried chicken wings for him and the mix of kimchi and rice for the rest of them. It smells like home. It smells like setting down your guard to finally, finally belong. It smells and tastes real. It's real, it's real, it's real.

What is your idea of perfect happiness?
I'm already living it. I have a partner who is loving, a miraculous child, and a small family which the head puts a lot of support and trust into our connection. Just need a limitless supply to whiskey and I'll be golden.

What is your greatest fear?
There was a sneer and within the blink of an eye, it was gone. Not that it's anyone's business, but it's if I find out that everything that's going on is some kind of bullshit simulation and I'm back at my roots. What a fucked situation that would be.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
Nothing. I'm absolutely grand and no one can say otherwise.

What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Groaned. Lying sack of shits. Be upfront with people, it's not hard. And also, people who think they're superior and have absolute shit to back it up with.

Which living person do you most admire?
My wife.

What is your greatest extravagance?
Her eyes, cold as steel, seemed to hone in elsewhere in thought before looking back. I guess this Macallan that I splurged on. Got major side eye from the wife for it.

What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
Fake kindness.

What do you most dislike about your appearance?
Blinked a few times, did this "are you seeing what I'm seeing" gesture. Nothing.

Which living person do you most despise?
Well, it was my sister, but we hashed things out. Mostly. Now everyone can be tolerable to a degree. Some less than others.

Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
Fuck. Poundtown.

You see where this could be going?

When and where were you happiest?
Wherever my partner and child are, now.

Which talent would you most like to have?
Shit, probably be able to sing a little better, or play piano. ...I'd also want to do meditation but it's difficult to stay still.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
Maybe I could be a little nicer to people, but that sounds like a lot of work.

What do you consider your greatest achievement?
Being fiercely loyal to people who give and take with respect and care. Being in a committed relationship and surprisingly being a decent parent.

If you were to die and come back as a person or a thing, what would it be?
A raging fire that never goes out.

Where would you most like to live?
Nowhere too hot. Mild, maybe a beach or something. I also like the idea of a cabin with a lot of land and open fields. Thought about it more and shrugged. Where we reside is perfectly peachy, though.

What is your most treasured possession?
She wouldn't answer but reached over with her right hand so that the index finger would tap onto the ring which consisted of an ice blue and golden stone.

Which historical figure do you most identify with?
No one.

Who are your heroes in real life?
The obvious answer plus Ferris. Maybe Bee, but I don't know.

What is your greatest regret?
... Her lips pursed. Being cruel to people that didn't deserve it.