Unexpected intrusions of beauty. This is what life is. ― Saul Bellow, Herzog
I don’t know what it is about plants growing in spaces that aren’t particularly hospitable to them, but it always makes me smile. Maybe it’s the unexpectedness such as seeing a gnarled, stumpy pine tree growing out of a mountainside, the dichotomy of soft against hard as in this photo, or just the surprise of a bright yellow sunflower towering above an otherwise unbroken expanse of young green corn. For whatever reason, I derive great joy from seeing it and it often stops my in my tracks.
What surprises you in life or in art? What does your surprise feel like in your body? How do you respond emotionally to it?
- Imagine that your normally taciturn uncle enjoys karaoke? What would it mean if he invited you along? What about if you only learned about it accidentally?
- What if the neighborhood sk8tr boi dropped a relevant line or two from e.e. cummings into a conversation about public spaces and the right to recreation? How would you respond?
- If you were on a walk through the woods and found an ancient tombstone poking out of the soil, would you pick up the pace with a firm, ‘Oh no, I don’t think so!’, or would you plop down onto a mossy stone and build an entire imaginary life around the information gleaned (or missing) from that grave marker?
What surprises your character? What beauty do they find when they least expect it? How does this change or impact their perspective. We throw a lot at our characters, sometimes they need a moment to recall what they’re fighting for. Give it to them.