Characterization Through A Mundane Activity

We will be creating a character together, giving her both physical and personality traits. We will then write a scene where the character is doing something mundane, and attempt to show who they are through this activity.

Physical Traits: Female; Overweight; Olive Skin; Long, beautiful, silky hair

Personality Traits: Bossy; Easily irritated; Generous

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       It was Celeste’s day to weed the common garden. She had tried to get out of it. She had told the others she already had an appointment with her hairdresser scheduled for the same day. But they’d held firm and told her, no Celeste, we are depending on you. The garden is depending on you. The summer had been unusually hot, there had been so little rain as well. The garden simply could not go untended, unwatered, even for a day.

       So earlier than usual, she rose that morning and washed and arranged her own long silky hair. She would not let it go untended, as she would have let the garden. Surely they knew it was not the same. It would not have mattered with the garden, just one day without all that watering. 

       How strange, she thought, that she should have given in. Normally she would have talked them into letting her off for the day. She is good with the group, she has talked them into so much in the past. Well, they call it bossy, but she chooses to view it as leadership. She has always been a strong leader.  So why did she give in this one time?

       Could it be she fears the cabal? Clearly she has seen one forming—among the younger ones in the group, the athletic young ones, the environmental ones, who leap from plot to plot, making sure the rows are all clean of weeds, the companion planting, well, companionable. A cabal, all right, of those who take this garden as more than just the eggplant and melons we grow. Who think they are in some way saving our planet one home-grown vegetable at a time. 

       Really they have no idea of life. How could they at their age? I must remind them of this at our next meeting. They have no idea yet what life itself will do to them given time, never mind this business about the planet. They have no idea how their young bodies will change, how the weight will come on and on, and then stay. Yes, I must tell them all this. 

       Or not. Perhaps not. Better to give them the gift of self-discovery. 

- BC

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       Grocery shopping and cooking on Wednesday evenings was really the highlight of her week. The fresh smell of vegetables and fruit delivered just hours before she arrived made her so happy. She could spend hours choosing her produce. 

      It was clear that she loved food. She didn’t hide or try to hide that she was overweight. She would say: We’re all going to die eventually, let me enjoy the pleasures of food. Looking at her in the supermarket while she softly almost dancing went from one aisle to another would give you different idea of the woman she was. 

       On most days, she was a high rank officer in a big corporation. She was known to be a bossy manager and feared at times. Actually, she was feared most of the time. At work, she would be easily irritated by common mistakes. Her olive skin tones over her cheeks would quickly change into reddish of rage. Her long beautiful silky hair would swing in the air not with grace but in strong moves resembling the swing of a whip. 

       But on Wednesday evenings, after picking up her favorite ingredients, she was happy. She’ll collect everything and drive to a community kitchen. She would try new recipes, make new recipes of her own, improvise and share her food with those in despair, those that have been abandoned, and those that had no home, no family or nowhere else to go. On Wednesday evenings she was loved for her generosity and that is all that mattered to her.     

-NM

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       The laundry basket pinched into her large frame as she carried it down to the washer. Amelia had just come out of the shower and she knew that if she didn't do her laundry immediately, it was likely to sit around for weeks until she had no clean clothes left. 

       Her older brother was sitting on the landing in the middle of the stairs, reading a book by the light coming in through the windows. Amelia felt her temper rising.

       "Why're you reading here? You're always in my way!" She deliberately pushed her laundry basket into him as she passed. Her long hair, still wet, was getting in her face, strands of it teasing her skin and contributing to her temper that was already at the surface, waiting to explode out of her.

       She banged the basket down as she reached the bottom of the staircase and tied her hair up with the hair band from her wrist. Instantly, most of her temper vanished. 

       Laundry was always such a chore, but getting it done always improved her temper. Once she put this load in, she wouldn't have to worry about it for another two weeks. 

       "Amelia," her mother called from the living room, "are you doing laundry? Can you please grab my laundry from upstairs and throw my clothes in with yours? I still have a ton of work left for my meeting tomorrow."

       Amelia's temper, always so close to erupting, began its rise up. But Amelia looked at the washer, less than ten feet ahead of her, and she thought of how hard her mom worked.

       "Sure, mom, I gotcha."

-FR

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