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Sunday, December 29, 2013

Set the Scene in Six Sentences - Sunday






One of the finest aspects of fiction writing is the ability to set the scene.  Characters act and react, but they don't do so in a vacuum.  In their world, they meet, fall in love, solve problems, sometimes horrendous problems.  Maybe it's a small town, maybe the big city, the green, humid jungle, dust-dry desert, a mountainous region.  On the sea.  Under the sea.  In space! 

Setting the scene is also done by using character dialogue to paint a picture of loveliness, danger, evil, trepidation, excitement, awe...

Give us six sentences that set the scene.  Set the Scene in Six Sentences - Sunday is a new opportunity on the Exquisite Quills! Blog to tout your talent.  How have you set the scene in your books?  How have you put the reader into the life of your characters?

Every Sunday, the blog will be open to six-sentence scene-setting.  Just post your six sentences, your name, and one link in the comment box.  We can't wait to read you!

Pass the word!  Open to all!

15 comments:

Jane Leopold Quinn said...

From A Promise at Dawn, an erotic M/F from Siren

He’d thought he was in pain from losing his studio and his work, but Faye’s was far more significant. He didn’t want to see her grieve any longer, but all he knew for sure was that he wanted to paint her for himself. He envisioned the scene in his mind. She was perfect for it. All that was left was to do her justice. Was it because he wanted to capture her beauty on canvas or because she got his juices flowing faster than any running could? He knew it was both.

http://amzn.to/10OaejZ

babettejames.com said...

Margie opened the peeling gate, wincing at the screeching hinges.
The men may have kept the front and side yards mowed, but dandelions and crabgrass had conquered the lawn and the abandoned garden beds had gone downright wild. Time and neglect had reduced Mrs. Falk’s prized roses to sucker-choked, unkempt tangles of sprawling canes with only a few scattered blooms hinting at their former beauty. Vines of trumpet creeper, bright with orange flowers, twined over the porch rails along with the shaggy brown remains of last year’s morning glories.
She led him up the cracked flagstone walk to the sweeping front porch steps. A porch like this called for rocking chairs, ice-cold lemonade, and a dog or cat or two sleeping in the sun.

From my new release, Summertime Dream, a spicy contemporary romance: http://amzn.com/B00HJDS3E6

E.Ayers said...

Was a lone wolf more dangerous than a pack? He was the great hunter, yet he was the one being hunted. Pressing his lips together, he tried to let go of his anger, but it boiled inside him. He remembered too well the danger of his rage. Apsáalooke were known as peaceful people, but they were also known for their fearless ability to fight to their death. It was that part of him, the Apsáalooke part, that made him realize the consequences of his emotions.
From A Rancher's Woman, a historic western about an illegal love:
http://amzn.com/B00HGV37VA

Rosemary Gemmell said...

From my new Scottish Regency novel set around the Winter Solstice, Midwinter Masquerade by Romy Gemmell - the younger character, Annabelle, has become stuck up a tree!

Not risking a further glance, Annabelle moved her other foot to the next branch. But she neglected to check it was thick or strong enough to take her weight.
The branch cracked. Annabelle tried to shift her weight back up to the previous branch, but her arms were too tired and all feeling was gone from her stiff fingers.
As she finally lost her grip and knew she was about to fall from the tree, she heard someone shout, “Kit!”
Next minute, Annabelle was tumbling through the air.

From Amazon and in all e-formats from Tirgearr Publishing: http://www.tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Gemmell_Romy/midwinter-masquerade.htm

David Russell said...

From my story 'Darlene':

I envisaged Darlene dressing before her mirror, adoring her own image, caressing her thighs as she drew up her stockings, loving her own image in the mirror, savouring her own fully charged magnetism. I imagined delicious dressing in preparation for delicious undressing – perhaps
David Russell
4
some feeling in her bones that I might be someone out of the ordinary, or even an additional bonus of doing it with another woman before my eyes.
I, in turn, practiced disrobing in front of my mirror, in subdued light, capturing all the alluring angles, savouring myself under the dream spell of her implicit eyes. I sensed the bleeps of telepathy in operation between us—laser-beamed gazes and breaths of rapture.
I spiced my sensations with my favourite videos. Katy Perry’s Thinking of You and Teenage Dream came to the fore, those graceful balletic of revelation, pulling on the stockings, pulling off the jeans, my hands all over that lithe, tanned form.

Susan Macatee said...

Second installment from my American-Victorian time travel romance, Thoroughly Modern Amanda.

She’d told the woman she’d be there as soon as possible but needed to complete the finishing touches on her last assignment. And now she was here; Randolph wasn’t.

Twice this week, she’d caught him flirting with his secretary, Miss Carson, a buxom dark-haired beauty. Randolph assured Amanda the exchange was entirely innocent. He considered the woman an excellent secretary and nothing more.

Amanda pulled the door closed.

http://www.amazon.com/Thoroughly-Modern-Amanda-ebook/dp/B00AQAIHHW/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1355948640&sr=1-1&keywords=Thoroughy+Modern+Amanda

David Russell said...

From my latest release 'An Ecstatic Rednezvous'

Her face lit up. “Oh, darling, you’ve got such a wonderful physique, I’m so proud of my catch!”
“I’ll do the same for you, so for the next stage of revelation, let me take your blouse off first.”
It was off-the-shoulder, flimsily, casually and alluringly worn. The motion of my quivering thumbs echoed the firmness. The three pearl buttons undid with ease to make a gracious parting. Then, my hands went under its top, and eased it off to reveal her glorious firm sun-tanned shoulders and her willowy back.

David Russell said...

From 'Self's Blossom

She was glad she had her two-piece costume on under her clothes. Her hands responded to his eyes, and his to hers, intuitive looks prompted them both. She thrilled to undress, sun-drenched, facing his beauty revealed. There was a flurry of deft revelation as shorts were undone and fell, as t-shirts rose, as trunks and costume, body enhancing, were revealed. Biceps throbbed.

David Russell said...

From my story 'Fools' Paradise'

She did a deft, delicate examination of my pockets.
“All pristine pure there, darling.”
Then, with equal dexterity, she peeled off my layers of clothing. The hardness of her eyes mellowed with the sight of my body. Celia squeezed my waist.

David Russell said...

From my story 'Explorations'

The opportunity came, the booked model didn’tturn up, the class started getting restive. The tutor started looking round the group and was on the point of saying “Can anyone help out?”

Cedric took the initiative, he saved the day for the class. As he was changing behind the partition, he mused about two women in the class whom hefound quite attractive. He was caught between his
general reverie and the immediate situation. He wanted his dream girl to go breathless and gaga at the sight of his body, then the tides of passion would surge…but while thinking about the storm,
he had to concentrate on the calm.

David Russell said...

This is from my story 'Further Explorations' (Sequel)

“Cedric, when we climaxed together, you turned ice into fire, fire into ice, hardness melted into delicious softness, the tender became beautifully firm.”
“Janice, you were my ocean, I was encapsulated in your being.”

So lovely to have had that experience with one body, that delicious wrestling match with all the apprehensions, all the inhibitions, the modulations of control and submission, surrender built into conquest. The intensity of the struggle added exquisite spices to the fulfilment. But for both their sakes, there must be several, multiples, for the kaleidoscope.

David Russell said...

This is from my story 'Therapy Rapture'

Her lips and nostrils were in titillating accord as she faced me and acknowledged me. I ached for her hands, I longed to reciprocate. The buttons on her blouse, the suggestion of the crisp bra within,
were so magnetic. When she touched the buckle of her belt, her fingers almost clinching to undo…Rowena induced a trance in me, barely repressed by formality, and I felt it was taking hold of her, as well. It was obeying a non-verbal instruction, tunnelling out of the prison of routine obedience. I ached for her hands to undo my
clothes.

David Russell said...

Hi Everybody: sorry I forgot the buy links: here they are -

An Ecstatic Rendezvous eBook: David Russell: Amazon.co.uk ...
www.amazon.co.uk › Books › Romance › Adult & Contemporary‎

Darlene eBook: David Russell: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store
www.amazon.co.uk › Books › Romance › Adult & Contemporary‎
Darlene eBook: David Russell: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store.

Explorations eBook: David Russell: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store
www.amazon.co.uk › Books › Romance‎

Further Explorations eBook: David Russell: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle ... www.amazon.co.uk › Books › Fiction‎

Fools' Paradise eBook: David Russell: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store
www.amazon.co.uk › Books › Romance › Adult & Contemporary‎

Fools' Paradise eBook: David Russell: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store.

Further Explorations eBook: David Russell: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store.

Self's Blossom eBook: David Russell: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store
www.amazon.co.uk › Books › Romance

Therapy Rapture: Amazon.co.uk: David Russell: Books
www.amazon.co.uk

letablake said...

From my book, Training Season:

Matty called his best friend as soon as humanly possible, which, given the short notice afforded by his travel plans, was the moment the plane touched down in Missoula.

“You’re in Montana? What the fuck, bitch?”

Matty told him about the job. “It’s in some place called Whitefish.”

“Where’s that?” Elliot asked.

“God only knows. Probably just this side of hell. “ He remembered the sight of the snow-dusted mountains as he’d flown in. “A beautiful hell, but hell all the same.”

Training Season by Leta Blake

Rose Anderson said...

Thank you for adding those, David.