Issue 10, Fiction: You as a character

by Amogha

“Hi,

‘You As A Character’ was a feature (an extension of an ask meme, really) I did when my blog hit 500. If you ever wondered how you’d be described in a book, it was a reblog away. I set out to describe my followers the way I’d describe a character in one of my stories. I mostly looked through their blogs for pictures, their pets or what they are most passionate about and they all had such distinct features I could write about. It was great fun. Last year, there was a post floating around tumblr that said something along the lines of I wonder how an author would describe me in a book and I just thought I could do that for people, because they’re all profoundly interesting and I’d hate for someone to think they’re not.

Below are some of my favourite descriptions from the feature, which I’ll definitely resume when I hit 1000.

Cheers,

Amogha”


fullsizerender-1

“Emily sat on the bed, unaware of pillows or sleep. She had a tome in her lap and her hands clutched some of the papers that surrounded her. She was to make a decision. It was her that they came to for all things that concerned that story once foretold.”


“That beautiful and desperate need to identify with recklessness in something as soft as music. That beautiful feeling is now a person.”


“The heath always did remind me of the endless. Like yellow flowers beyond the sunset. Pug marks beyond the horizon. As did Heath. We met at the playground when everything was orange and tasted like Halloween. Heath was fairly small but the trench coat was not. It was laden with peppermints, mostly but a while later, Heath produced a hardbound novel from one of the inner pockets. And a puppy, and a lemon drizzle cake and a dream I had had one summer morning but had forgotten. Heath just stood there in the over large trench coat, laughing till tears rolled as I made a blanket of coats.”


“It looked like it had been weeks since she had left her papers. Her braided hair had escaped into loose strands. Chocolate wrappers lay strewn. Assonance hovered against her eyes. But it was Elizabeth and that meant regal, even if it was in the exhausted, impatient way.”


“It was a burst of colour. Pastel dress. So many colours that you can’t help but notice, midst piles and piles of book spines: a faded red, a loved blue, several bright yellows and a happy green.”


“If I was stuck in a cabin in a horror story, I’m glad it was with someone who wore loose shirts and walked around with large bowls of cut fruit in hand, oblivious to ghosts and messy hair.”


“She woke up without an alarm and spent the rest of the day being incoherent. She had fists trying to wrap around a blanket, an order, anything but melted away into endearing chaos every time.”


“You are the face of resounding laughter, the exalting and near insane laughter. The laughter of relief. The tear-streaked laughter on seeing shore after years lost at sea.” 


“Jocelyn sat amidst the pages and pages of hurried writing strewn on the table, arms filled with painstaking doodles, unkempt desire and the feeling of victory.”


“We’d spoken once, maybe twice. She had the kind of face that made me look for her reaction after every silly joke I muttered and everything I let slip. I decided she would be my protagonist.”


“It was bright. She sat there in the glass-filtered sun playing on her table, with a coffee cup. She was gazing at the near empty cup like it held spades and diamonds; I wondered if she were a fortune-teller. It turned out she was telling stories. Even better. I went over to sit by her table.”


“They said I’d be meeting one Tom. Tom was a violinist and the elaborate brooding ritual required an original piece. Tom didn’t walk in, so much asenter. Tom was dressed like an 18th century noble and courteously taking my hand, promised to be part of the rite.”


“When I say they left an impression, I mean that quite literally. I must have only glanced once but they brought to mind a distinct image of ink smudged on a table. Clearly drawn with a finger. They felt like a warm connection with a previous author at this table.”

new doc 58_1.jpg


Written by Amogha, Illustration by Samriddha Roy

Amogha is a writer and editor, contributing to school magazines and publications online. She has written for India’s leading newspaper, the Times of India as a student correspondent; her fictional works have been published in private e-mails to her close friends. She currently holds an offer from the University of Exeter to study English Literature. Her other interests include fencing and working with wild animals. She can be tweeted to @NotAmortentia where she discusses character arcs at hours past midnight.

Samriddha is is an impulsive kid with eyes looking for visually appealing stuff all the time, be it movies or art or a rikshawala sleeping in his auto. She has automated hands, giver her a pencil and any surface, and there you are with a scribble in front of your eyes.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s