Intro Scene Draft
May. 2nd, 2009 06:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
quasigeostrophyMy main character has told me who she is and what she at least wants to be doing (heck, she didn't even tell me her name until a couple of hours ago). Below the cut is a draft of the intro scene that I had come up with in bed a couple of weeks ago, and it doesn't answer all the questions about her that I have figured out (more to come). I do still have a lot of open questions about where this is going, but getting this down is a start. Writing dialog actually bothers me more than either character development or plot.
I'd love any comments anyone has. *pleads* :-)
ONE
October 24. Mid Afternoon. Just outside Buffalo, South Dakota.
Like a lone frontier sentry, the rusty mailbox stood alone at the end of a driveway that consisted mostly of dirt and grass, with a bit of well-worn gravel remaining in two wide wheel ruts. The drive stretched out to the west, away from the two-lane highway, rolling with the plains until it disappeared over the horizon. The house that belonged to that mailbox and driveway was out there somewhere amid the tall prairie grass, but it was too far away to be seen.
Across the highway from the mailbox, under a "US 85 North" sign, stood a woman. She was barely five feet tall, in a brown bomber jacket, faded jeans, and black hiking boots. Her thick, straight, jet black hair fell about her shoulders as she adjusted the brim of her black MIT baseball cap. She had very dark skin and facial features that revealed a south Asian ancestry, at least from one side of her family. Except for the slight beginnings of crow's feet, she appeared closer to twenty than her actual age of thirty-nine. Through large rectangular rimless glasses, her wide almond shaped green eyes looked intently to the west. She was not studying the mailbox, however, nor the driveway that led away from it. Her gaze was directed skyward, where gray overcast clouds loomed thick and dark overhead, heavy with snow. She was enjoying the silence and solitude somewhat, but was also feeling more than a little impatient. She had been walking up and down this stretch of highway all afternoon, and her back was starting to twinge.
Thup-thup-thup-thup-thup-thup
A familiar sound, quiet at first, crept up behind her. The wind around her had picked up and had masked the sound's approach. As it grew louder, she finally turned around to see a growing dark spot in the sky to the east. When the spot began to take the familiar shape of a Bell 206 helicopter, she looked down at her waist and grabbed a small radio from a holster on her belt. She pressed the talk button with her thumb and held the radio close to her mouth.
"Yo. What kept you guys?" she asked with just a hint of an upper Midwest accent, then letting go of the button.
A burst of static was followed by a male voice apologizing, "Sorry, Veena. We had to wait for fuel in Rapid City."
"Say again?" she asked with a confused look, this time remembering to hold the radio closer to her right ear as the message was repeated. She was still getting used to no longer being able to hear in both ears, even though that, her left ring finger, and some of the flexibility in her back had all been gone for nearly a year.
The red and white helicopter was close now, and started to descend a short distance east of where Veena stood. She clipped her radio back into her belt holster and scrambled through the grass, making her way down the small hill east of the highway as the chopper touched down. She didn't need to duck below the rotors, but did anyway as the starboard rear door opened and she hopped in to the only empty seat. As she buckled herself in, the Bell 206 took off.
To Veena's left sat Sean, a large young man of twenty-nine in a light blue jacket and black slacks. He wore thick, horn rimmed glasses and his thinning, wiry, mousy brown hair was unkempt. He greeted her with a smile full of perfect teeth that she returned in kind. Sean was her postdoc, and even though he was a man of few words and she wished he would open up more, she regarded him highly because his work was nearly always thorough and insightful.
The same friendly voice she heard over the radio earlier this time came from over the seat in front of her. She cocked her head in that direction. "Rapid City 88D shows significant precip in Ridgeway, Montana. Maybe Moorcroft and Devil's Tower, too, but..." He trailed off. Veena didn't need him to complete that sentence anyway – a chunk of northeastern Wyoming was in Rapid City's radar blind spot thanks to the Black Hills. A colleague from the University of North Dakota in Grand Forks, John was a tall man of forty-two with long, reddish-gray hair. He wore a red and black flannel shirt unbuttoned to reveal a plain black t-shirt, jeans, a headset, and aviator sunglasses. "Velocities haven't picked up yet, though," he continued. "We should make it back to Bismarck no problem." He looked over at the pilot for reassurance. The pilot nodded.
Veena sat back in her seat and looked out at the plains below. The seat was not the best thing for her back, but it beat standing. "I think I found the best place to set up the last ground station," she said, somewhat loudly. Sean leaned forward, hopeful. She continued, "I left release forms with the ranch owners, and as long as everyone's respectful, we can come and go freely. They've got a couple hundred bison, but they said they're far enough from where I want to set up they shouldn't be a problem." At the mention of bison, Sean almost cringed, but quickly shrugged it off. He would be responsible for the grad students' shifts at the ground stations, and made a mental note to be careful whom he assigned to this last one.
Rubbing her now aching left hand below her missing ring finger using her right thumb, she thought about what still needed to be done before they could start collecting data. From the forecast, the storm that was coming seemed like it would be a perfect case study, and they weren't ready. For this she was not happy. Her tenure review was overdue, and with the accident in December taking her out of commission for a while, her field campaign was way behind schedule. She looked up at the sky, but on her side of the chopper, she couldn't see the weather that was coming. She knew it was not a long flight back to Bismarck and she probably wasn't going to get to sleep until she was back in the hotel, but decided to close her eyes and relax for a few minutes.
As Veena drifted off, she missed the snow beginning to fall around the helicopter.
I'd love any comments anyone has. *pleads* :-)
October 24. Mid Afternoon. Just outside Buffalo, South Dakota.
Like a lone frontier sentry, the rusty mailbox stood alone at the end of a driveway that consisted mostly of dirt and grass, with a bit of well-worn gravel remaining in two wide wheel ruts. The drive stretched out to the west, away from the two-lane highway, rolling with the plains until it disappeared over the horizon. The house that belonged to that mailbox and driveway was out there somewhere amid the tall prairie grass, but it was too far away to be seen.
Across the highway from the mailbox, under a "US 85 North" sign, stood a woman. She was barely five feet tall, in a brown bomber jacket, faded jeans, and black hiking boots. Her thick, straight, jet black hair fell about her shoulders as she adjusted the brim of her black MIT baseball cap. She had very dark skin and facial features that revealed a south Asian ancestry, at least from one side of her family. Except for the slight beginnings of crow's feet, she appeared closer to twenty than her actual age of thirty-nine. Through large rectangular rimless glasses, her wide almond shaped green eyes looked intently to the west. She was not studying the mailbox, however, nor the driveway that led away from it. Her gaze was directed skyward, where gray overcast clouds loomed thick and dark overhead, heavy with snow. She was enjoying the silence and solitude somewhat, but was also feeling more than a little impatient. She had been walking up and down this stretch of highway all afternoon, and her back was starting to twinge.
Thup-thup-thup-thup-thup-thup
A familiar sound, quiet at first, crept up behind her. The wind around her had picked up and had masked the sound's approach. As it grew louder, she finally turned around to see a growing dark spot in the sky to the east. When the spot began to take the familiar shape of a Bell 206 helicopter, she looked down at her waist and grabbed a small radio from a holster on her belt. She pressed the talk button with her thumb and held the radio close to her mouth.
"Yo. What kept you guys?" she asked with just a hint of an upper Midwest accent, then letting go of the button.
A burst of static was followed by a male voice apologizing, "Sorry, Veena. We had to wait for fuel in Rapid City."
"Say again?" she asked with a confused look, this time remembering to hold the radio closer to her right ear as the message was repeated. She was still getting used to no longer being able to hear in both ears, even though that, her left ring finger, and some of the flexibility in her back had all been gone for nearly a year.
The red and white helicopter was close now, and started to descend a short distance east of where Veena stood. She clipped her radio back into her belt holster and scrambled through the grass, making her way down the small hill east of the highway as the chopper touched down. She didn't need to duck below the rotors, but did anyway as the starboard rear door opened and she hopped in to the only empty seat. As she buckled herself in, the Bell 206 took off.
To Veena's left sat Sean, a large young man of twenty-nine in a light blue jacket and black slacks. He wore thick, horn rimmed glasses and his thinning, wiry, mousy brown hair was unkempt. He greeted her with a smile full of perfect teeth that she returned in kind. Sean was her postdoc, and even though he was a man of few words and she wished he would open up more, she regarded him highly because his work was nearly always thorough and insightful.
The same friendly voice she heard over the radio earlier this time came from over the seat in front of her. She cocked her head in that direction. "Rapid City 88D shows significant precip in Ridgeway, Montana. Maybe Moorcroft and Devil's Tower, too, but..." He trailed off. Veena didn't need him to complete that sentence anyway – a chunk of northeastern Wyoming was in Rapid City's radar blind spot thanks to the Black Hills. A colleague from the University of North Dakota in Grand Forks, John was a tall man of forty-two with long, reddish-gray hair. He wore a red and black flannel shirt unbuttoned to reveal a plain black t-shirt, jeans, a headset, and aviator sunglasses. "Velocities haven't picked up yet, though," he continued. "We should make it back to Bismarck no problem." He looked over at the pilot for reassurance. The pilot nodded.
Veena sat back in her seat and looked out at the plains below. The seat was not the best thing for her back, but it beat standing. "I think I found the best place to set up the last ground station," she said, somewhat loudly. Sean leaned forward, hopeful. She continued, "I left release forms with the ranch owners, and as long as everyone's respectful, we can come and go freely. They've got a couple hundred bison, but they said they're far enough from where I want to set up they shouldn't be a problem." At the mention of bison, Sean almost cringed, but quickly shrugged it off. He would be responsible for the grad students' shifts at the ground stations, and made a mental note to be careful whom he assigned to this last one.
Rubbing her now aching left hand below her missing ring finger using her right thumb, she thought about what still needed to be done before they could start collecting data. From the forecast, the storm that was coming seemed like it would be a perfect case study, and they weren't ready. For this she was not happy. Her tenure review was overdue, and with the accident in December taking her out of commission for a while, her field campaign was way behind schedule. She looked up at the sky, but on her side of the chopper, she couldn't see the weather that was coming. She knew it was not a long flight back to Bismarck and she probably wasn't going to get to sleep until she was back in the hotel, but decided to close her eyes and relax for a few minutes.
As Veena drifted off, she missed the snow beginning to fall around the helicopter.
