The chafing noise of tape to skin is awkward but I like the tiny pokes of pain. The restroom’s sour stench of urine, lysol, and anti-bacterial soap brings on nausea. My hands are taped. The trainer shakes his head. I feel the nerves pulsate in my fingers as I clench my fists and punch. The swooshing sounds of my arms through the air is like an alarm. I’m ready. The queasiness subsides as the laces of the glove tighten around my wrists. I feel like a warrior, weaponed for battle.
My heart races. I hear the thumping in my chest, measured but deep. The mouths of people around me move but I can’t hear them over the thunder kissing my body. I calm, slightly, and walk slowly. The buzz of failing flourescents overhead is eerie.
Standing at the door, my mind chaoses. Voices sounding like cackling demons torment my head. Some scream doubt. Others preach violence. I breathe with conviction. The brain torment vanishes. The squeak of my boots to the linoleum floor is startling. My adrenaline increases as I kick open the heavy metal door with my left leg. The shout of a crowd lifts me as I enter.
Good writing plants the reader’s feet into your story.
Good writing is also concise.
So when you’re trying to decide where to spend your words – where to use the most imagery and details and senses – I say setting is where it’s at.
What do you see? What does the air feel like? Smell like? What are you stepping on? Who else is there with your character or you? Time? Weather?
In 200 words.
Today’s song was tough to choose. Do I go thunda from down unda, Thunderstruck AC/DC or something folky like The Boxer by Simon and Garfunkel? I went hard freak rock. Here’s Thunder Kiss 65 by White Zombie. Slay your day.