Character Question

Character Question:

Okay, here's a character question: to what degree do we separate ourselves from the characters that we write? How much is their perspective completely our own? Moments ago, I caught myself playing with the minds of my own characters. I don't think there is any excuse for allowing our own emotions to interfere with that of those of our characters.

For instance, here is a point on which I pondered: if 'Brooke thinks that Snape has hair of an elegant dark veil,' Harry doesn't- however, I would venture that 'Harry looked upon his oily, lank hair and his daunting features- thus sank his heart.' This is a really important part of making characters form into distinct persons, and that we should begin to look on them as such. If we begin to respect them as people, then they will grow- as a child when he or she moves away from home.

A recent author I wrote to said, that to force them into situations and watch how react to them, helps create characters. I think that we can garner from this statement that she means to extricate our minds from them. We should ask ourselves at what point characters really become real. They are not a reflection of ourselves- they are distinct and separate. This is fascinating to me.

 

What are your thoughts on this? Be sure to post your comments!

SM ~

On the matter of 'notes,' and a happy 2014-

On the matter of ‘notes,’ and a happy 2014-
On what note will we begin it?

Dear readers,

Notes in my house creep up no matter where I go . . . no matter what I do to evade their presence, they always slip their way into my eyes, dazzling my vision as though to taunt it. I don’t ask her to do it, but my mother leaves me notes at every single turn. In the morning, in the afternoon, evening and at night, they show up. If I think that I have escaped them for good, I turn my phone on, and a text message is flashing. My mother finds a way to provide notes even when I am not around to view them. I wake up in the morning , and her scrawl is my first greeting. When I sit down with tea in my hands for the day, my mind untrammeled, I am surprised again- when I reach to put my cup down, behold the dictate in front of me, telling me not to put the cup there . . .

I wonder at the idea that we must always be communicating. If we cannot unleash our troubles in words, then they seem to come out in little pen-marks to haunt the members of our family who may attune themselves. Personally, I have no need of notes- I rarely make them for myself, and keep a mental record of my own list. If I do write a note, then it is not usually so much a reminder as a melee of random thoughts that I will put into a story. However, my mother is infamous for her perpetual, love affair with them. I suppose that it is my fate to read her thoughts, trivial as they might be.

Have you ever stopped to wonder about the purpose of writing a note?  I cannot help but to wonder what we would do with our notes if we were to change their purpose. In their true meaning, they are actually informal letters to ourselves.  That makes me wonder about their intended design. What if we were to write, ‘Happy 2014,’ as that design, rather than, ‘did you put the key in its proper place?’ What if we were to wake up in the morning and find ourselves looking forward to their message, rather than evading them at every turn? Perhaps we need to re-evaluate the purpose writing notes, revamp their inner scope.

If whether or not we lose our key is foremost on our minds, our mental registrar seems to lack substance. Our brief messages to others should have a rich texture which enhances our thoughts and ideas. How do those thoughts reflect upon those around us, and what type of message do they transmit?

Perhaps, in revising the notes themselves, we can reinvent our minds, and their contributions to the household.

 

Thus, in order to start the year of 2014, I am planning on writing a new note to my family, to subtly and effectively counteract the problem. The next time you wake up to a belligerent note that wants to be a little too persistent with you, therefore, try changing the message around-

And- I will end this piece on that ‘note.’

 

Love to you all,

Brooke ~

 

Snape Writing Prompt- Describing His True Gait

Severus Snape writing prompt ~

 

 

Severus Snape projects a difficult question for a writer when he walks. He can glide, sweep, and stalk, or prowl, but he hardly ever ‘walks’ as a person puts it.

 

So, here is a question for you I feel many of us would benefit from:

 

 

v How does Severus Snape walk? How many adjectives can you come up with that would describe his unique, unusual gait? 

 

Some examples that I came up with to start the discussion: glide, swish, stalk, sweep, and encroach.

 

 

Here are some additional ideas that Snape lovers came up with:

 

· Glide

· Stalk

· Prowl

· Glide

· Grace and Commanding Presence

· Tread

· Sweep

· Sneak up

· Lurk

· Advance

· Light-footed

 

Feel free to submit ideas through the comment box- I will post them as I get them.

Burning to Know About Snape's Blackness

Burning to Know About Snape's Blackness

{Intro:

The Scar character of the Lion King is actually the Severus Snape of today's Harry Potter. The antagonist of a story and its external layers can mesmerize even a small child, who understands that even evil holds good human qualities:}

This piece is dedicated to my friend Laura Haldane ~

            When I was about four years old, I discovered what the antagonist in a story is meant to relay, its significance, and its dark armor of layers which portrayed a façade. When the Lion King premiered in (1994), I experienced my first dip into this deliciously dark portrayal. The attraction began unwittingly. I was sitting next to my aunt, who was of that happy state of mind to think that I was old enough to appreciate the experience- and found myself mesmerized by the battle scene. The notion that the darkly colored lion, who had been portrayed as an evil spirit and a murderer, could be hurt by the battle's proceedings, took hold of me. I watched fascinated as he begged for mercy at the end of his life, only to be deterred by the hyenas whom had worked beneath him for so long. I was attracted to the idea that a dark character- apparently seen as an object, by most standards- had the ability to demonstrate human qualities. That such characters were capable of pain was what grabbed me. They never let go . . .

            From that point on, I sought to reveal those characters who demonstrated this trait. I'd look for them in stories, then chapter length books, and became entranced with it. My mind seemed to beseech that I hear that inner voice, to entreat me to listen to the idea, that there were myriad of different circumstances which led to individual pain. That pearlescent thought that portrayed an eerie, attractive white light would always sift out from the doom. Whether the character be a man clad in black boots, a lover, or some kind of ravenous fiendish monster, I always sought them; I looked for a white lining in their personalities. My stories, too, began to reflect this view. My need to seek that higher being was present, as I clasped each and every piece I read, fleshed out in every single story each persona burned until I felt myself aflame. My characters were enhanced by the notion that there was a deeper meaning behind what was seen, and I loved the process. Watching their layers peel away was fascinating to me, dark and so exquisitely did it drench my tongue!

            There were, therefore, several notable Snape-centered scenes in my short life. My vision was regaled with the image of his complex inner ideology. When Snape observed Harry through darkly-lidded eyes which were unfathomable, black eyes, nearly liquid drips that inundated him with blackness, I was caught. The image was one that could not be analyzed. Never to know exactly what he was thinking, never to look into those deep black eyes and understand his thoughts was torturous. And yet I was in love with that burning black gaze. In book four, Moody states to Snape softly, 'aah, so you have Potter's best interests at heart have you?' Snape could not provide him an answer. At the end of the same book he stares at Harry with an inexplicable meaning- what, what was that meaning? I, unlike any other reader, was burning for it. And, finally, at the end of the seventh book, it all came into the light. The pearlescent image which I had been trying to find, to break to and understand in his character, was given. Yet, it was given with a bittersweet taste. After this point, the cruel hand of fate which had teased me for so long was removed. And it left this dark attraction in me asunder.

            Thus, after this point, I immediately began to explore the image further. How will I ever understand all of his layers? I seek him, my Scar, when I feel insomnia creep upon me, and with those black, deeply hooded eyes comes sweet sunlight rays. When I see a black rose, the intoxication is present- in how many ways can I analyze each tiny petal? What were the facades of Snape's persona, and how can I break down the layers? I might never know. Would that JKR had given more insight into his blank, eerily quiet face. For now, I will simply have to engage in the soul-binding, foreboding, perhaps eternal effort . . . in a mesmerizing quest to conquer my own dark flame.

Please view my Snape fanfiction through this link:

https://www.fanfiction.net/~snapemartyr

Regular work can be viewed at this page:

http://www.writerscafe.org/Foxemerald/writing/

And feel free to e-mail me at:

brookefox0@gmail.com

I always love to hear back from my readers. Thank you.
Snapemartyr~

A Complex of Mirrors

Note: Please feel free to comment, if you are a viewer of this blog, and to click the 'follow.' I love to hear from each and every one of my readers, for you inspire me and give me ideas. If you have something that you'd like to contribute, you can always contact me at my personal e-mail: brookefox0@gmail.com, or follow my work on fanfiction, where you can find other links to my work via the profile: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2537728/

Thanks !

Intro: there are a plethora of angles in every person's character. We see them mirrored by the faces of millions of people everyday, but often we forget which is their true angle. Severus Snape saw everyone in Harry save for he truly was, and vice versa.  Yet still, Ablus Dumbledore knew that it is the actual soul of a person that matters, and recognizing a person for who he or she really is creates the bond between people that will last into our restful infinity.

            I wonder how many ways there are to describe beautiful. There are some themes that will never die, and to understand the heart and soul of a person is more gratifying than one could ever imagine. Albus Dumbledore was a great study in this particular context, because he was always so easy to read. How many ways are there in which to understand the context of a person, and how many sides of a person are there to interpret? The soul is what matters, and not what one may see reflected upon the surface. When Severus Snape looked at Harry, his mind immediately became his worst victim. He was immersed in memories of dark semblances, which tugged upon his brain until he was forced to verbalize his distaste. He was filled with loathing, but it is unclear how much of Harry he did understand. After all, he did not save his life with the utmost precision, if he did not harbor a strong reason, and deepened emotion.

            In my opinion, Snape was under a variety of impressions about Harry Potter. He did not always feel what he saw on the surface, even though his memories glided along James Potter's escapades, and the throes of his old tormenters. There were a multitude of aspects, those that did not merely rest upon the surface of Harry's face, and inner closures that were very difficult to understand completely. Harry was, after all, a product of his experiences, and not just what his parents made him. The neglected child under the famous name of Harry Potter, a.k.a. The-Boy-Who-Lived, had never actually known his parents. Thus, how could it be that he was their effect? It is sometimes quite impossible to imagine how much he was a part of the mental creation that others had concocted. Harry Potter was very much his own person. Severus Snape often might have realized that. Did his actions speak louder than his words? In Professor Snape's case, there is a fair amount of potential in the inklings of his mind, those musings that he had darkly sheltered way back, those to which he never gave voice. From my perspective, he realized that Harry was not his parent's child.

            As Hermione once quoted in the series somewhere in book six, Severus Snape was actually similar to Harry from many angles. Harry himself noted the rather distinguished childhoods that they both shared. It is not unlikely that they shared even more. As Hermione said after that memorable defense lesson that Snape taught them, the Potions Master was similar to him in the internal sense. They thought the same way, and between the two of them there was a mutual bond that stemmed, perhaps from their lonely childhood. Perhaps from the fact that they had both seen dark forces. Nevertheless, there was a looming atmosphere which the two of them had created that was rather difficult for them to interpret. The mirror images to Harry, were just as enigmatic as the images Snape produced, and they displayed a garden- not always of hyacinths and gardenias, either. There were many thorny bristles in their nature that they stumbled over, and it was a rough patch which the two of them shared. They did not recognize those areas in one another's, or, if they did see the pattern, they were too afraid to trace it.

            Beauty is said to be in the eye of the beholder by some. But in my own opinion, there are themes between different personalities that recur over and over again, in spite of the numerous times we miss them. Albus Dumbledore was one of the rare persons who was able to see into the very soul, through what J.K. Rowling notably thought to be x-ray vision. In Snape and Harry both, though, there was a fair amount of infrared light in their irises. Their vision was often cloudy, although, to be perfectly honest with you, both of them retained the capacity to see into the other's lighted tunnel. Just before Snape died in the Shrieking Shack that night, he whispered, look at me. There was a mutual bonding between the two of them at that moment that was impossible to miss. And, truly, I think that Snape really saw Harry for who he was. And vice versa on Harry's side, for a mere instant.

The Day That I Learned Occlumency

          My sugar is bound to be very high today . . . you do know that I had three bananas? That's a fascinating ability, really, as I never thought I could put down three, or would put down three, in one day. Ah, well  . . . the fact is immaterial. I realized a significant fact about myself yesterday, and the situation was not completely free of constraint, and some natural pain of course. I was engaging in a weight-heavy work out in which I felt extremely out of my element, and I remember standing in the most oft visited work out room, with weights. I was holding them and they were ruling over me. I did not know where I should put down the dense twenty-five pound dumbbells and when. Men with enormous arms that were practically splitting their t-shirts, wearing cold faces that never allowed their attached eyes to look in your direction unless the situation was dire, intently focused upon their own needs, pervaded. Before me, behind me, to the right, the left, swinging up their weights and lifting them over their heads as though there was no tomorrow on the horizon, and multi-billion mechanic-arm- leg . . . weight championship, must be met, today. I looked sorrowfully down at my dumbbells.

            It became a frenetic circumstance. I didn't know if I should place them in front of me where the thick barreled-chested man was, huffing almost sickly, or gently place it- should I place it loudly- should I attempt to demonstrate myself as they were doing? I despised every minute of that terrible, sweat-filled, dank room, filled with testosterone and huffs and blows that nearly sickened me. However, then I realized that I often smelled like chlorine, and I started to think about the notion that many of my café members regularly got a whiff of me, perhaps, when I sat there and typed- ha! The thought merely made me laugh. I stared in the mirror at my intently focused facial muscles- and lifted- one. Ahhhhh. That felt good. Okay, now I needed to concentrate, and I needed to figure out a way to get these weights rolling.  

            I had always known that there was a way to block out my thoughts without actually being focused on it. I had an instinct about the power of Occlumency. J.K. Rowling was not speaking about the topic through the lips of Severus Snape with an elegance that was derived from the sweet-drivel of friendly nothings. No, her voice was definitely taken from real life topics, so I knew that there must be something in the idea that was not composed only of her imagination, and I was determined to find that! I found that I really was. Recently I had read through a few fanfictions on the Fanfiction.Net site, for Harry Potter stories, and I'd noted an interested aspect that consistently made an appearance. However, it had remain untold that one might actually find the need to express a blank, white expanse of driveling space, or an object as part of those shields. I'd thought those notions for laughs, really, not decisively a tool in present life, but minor thoughts that fluttered. And yet I grasped that fluttering as my own curtain.

            I wanted more than anything to allow myself to feel nothing and to experiment with the theory of Occlumency. Was it really possible to block out one's thoughts completely? I have had so many ideas about this topic recently, that it was quite imprudent for me to say that the power of Occlumency truly lived within the realms of a false existence, and swirling and torrid- these ideas came! I wrote about Occlumency in my stories, and madly jotted down whatever ideas came to me during my lessons at school. Such made common appearances in my stories, and character interactions were flushed gay with the idea of living in a purely gray area in which thoughts could be twined into a fog at will, become absolutely nothing, pure and constant and recurrent. My characters did not seem to want to think, they seemed to be laden by the overbearing notion that thoughts could be obliterated, and I really wanted to be one with them. I wanted to invoke that gray sheet of fog unto myself, and solely believe in that one thing- fog, mist, whatever might recur, whatever you want to call it- but found that I could not reach this capacity. I did not technically believe in it, after all, although I had- oh!- so many ideas, to the point where the theme constantly recurred in my Harry Potter characters.

            It wasn't until last night that I realized the thought was more tangible then I'd been led to believe. Apparently the art of Occlumency was actually relevant, because as I stood within that crazy, that borderline frenetic swish of weights and bulky tendencies, I realized that I could in fact block out that imagery, and those awful smells. My mind wandered, and then- it stopped. I was no longer thinking of anything, and, at the most intense moment of my work out, when I thought that I would surely break from the pain and the conscious horror of the circumstances that were flying by me with their nefarious and egotistical (I should say) huffs, my thoughts halted. I came to a revelation, in that I realized that the idea of living within one, single solitary thought, actually composed the ability to turn thoughts of- and so my mind went stagnant. I no longer had to think or feel anything. I knew that I had attained the power of Occlumency.

            My characters are filled with life, on a and within a variety of different aspects. However, they are purely focused, an intent upon one particular prospect, because they are always moving towards higher thought processes. I do believe in the power of Occlumency, and I believe that it is one of the highest forms of thought that one can attain, purely designed for those that are forced to recreate the present life or segment of live in which they live currently, in order to ward off unwanted experiences. When the horror accumulates to an untamed, primitive and terrible ideology, one so thick that you do not want to be in what you mindfully perceive as the circumstance- turn it off- and escape, into the elegance of subtlety . . .

"You have no subtlety, Potter. That is what makes you such a lamentable, potions maker . . . "  Severus Snape ~

The Real Use of the Sorting Hat

            In my own mind, when Harry was in the process of being sorted by the hat into Gryffindor, his choices defined the outcome. In spite of the fact that this idea seems to be the most logical, there is no logic behind the fact that everyone assumes the act to be one of natural traits. It would be impossible for any of us to believe that the Sorting Hat actually wanted him to go into Gryffindor, if that was in fact the case behind Harry's outcome. However, the hat did not choose to put Harry in Gryffindor based upon natural tendencies. Quite the contrary, in fact, Harry was placed into the House because of his own desire not to go into the house of Slytherin. He considered the house to be dark, nefarious, and without the fulfillments that one of the other houses could ascribe to him. He inadvertently seemed to choose the house that was the most contrary to the traits of that particular one that could be considered.

            There were a variety of factors swirling around in Harry's mind during his conversation with the hat, but not all of them were surprising. They strongly indicated his need to become a part of the line of great witches and wizards, all with some amount of renown. However, it is nearly impossible to consider the idea that he was inept into Gryffindor's area of greatness in the most natural sense. The outcome of the war alone proved his qualities of strength. However, when placed underneath that foreboding conversation which he had dreaded since learning about Slytherin House, he indubitably wanted to be put into the opposite house.His natural tendencies were present when he was being sorted, but he chose to be put into one that used those qualities differently. At that point, he began to define himself as a person. He made a statement to every single reader of Harry Potter: the choices that we make define us, and not, despite what we may think, our abilities.

            The natural abilities that we hone as people are inherent, true; however, this does not mean that we should be forced to use them in a certain way. As uniquely defined individuals we will always retain the decision to define the strengths that we have, and we will do this in an active way that is specific to ourselves. We do not compete with others without meaning, but with the strongest significance possible to our species. Man was not made to be a creature of subversion, but of accountability. This means that we always choose who we set ourselves up to be. Each trait that we have we use as a piece of creation- and everything goes into the scope of our fuller lives, because people create a pattern that moves them towards the circle of completion. Time and again through history, we have proven that in order to be really happy, we need to set down who we intend to be. We re-make and define that prospect until we are no longer able to speak for anyone but ourselves, because, as history proves- we fail within a tyrannical space.

            Luna Lovegood had perhaps some of the most fascinating, riveting, but underappreciated qualities of all Rowling's characters. She was sorted into the house of Ravenclaw, but was perhaps much braver than the rest of Harry's clan. It would be nearly impossible to quote the number of different ways in which Luna's calm translucent air stood steadfast in all the faces which danger in the books presented. It was for this very reason that she was not able to connect with some of the other house students, and, indeed, students from the other houses- they seemed to think her strange and unnatural. The beauty of her manner however, stemmed from actual bravery that was created by not owning to fear in being the person who she was. Perhaps the most markedly defined of all the Harry Potter characters, hers was the ability to overcome, not only all danger, but the face of the wild and untamed land of fate when, in the depths of the war, the worst, blackest kind of circumstances surrounded . . .

            It is hardly possible to say which of the characters was the most essential in the series, in spite of the fact that Harry was the protagonist. Severus Snape was an example of the type of person who had made poor choices early on in life, and then had moved back into the sphere of the light, forever making an imprint in the fact of the HP fans. He redefined himself at least twice in his life that we know of, revamping the manner in which he used his many talents. Harry, of course, was defined from the beginning of the time that he started Hogwarts.

            Anyway, what I am trying to say throughout this discussion is that, although Harry had obvious qualities of bravery, boldness, loyalty, and oftentimes even rashness, they did not create his person. He created his person rather, through his talents themselves. We are not born artists, or poets, or lawyers. We have certain natural tendencies that develop into skills, but then we need to meticulously hone them. The way in which we direct them will ultimately direct our lives, who we are as individuals, and the need to use compassion when we speak to others. It is our choices that make us. We are not born into a mold; the best we can do is create it.

 

Please let me know what your thoughts are about all of this.

Thanks,

Emerald ~