When I was a kid, I had a Raggedy Andy.
At least, I think I had one. Someone else in the house might have, but I’ve carried the memory of it for a long time. It wasn’t the doll itself that I liked, but the name of it – so perfectly formed, describing exactly what it is.
I reckon you could hear the name and know what it was without really seeing it at all.
That’s kind of what I’m hoping for anyway, as someone in my story has just been tossed against the wall like a rag doll – but Raggedy Andy’s name makes an actual appearance for this description.
It’s these sorts of details I feel add a level of touch to the reader; if you’re familiar with Starbucks, hearing about a coffee shop isn’t as resonant as hearing that someone’s ordered a Tall from their local SB.
Not that I’m advocating a Starbucks addiction; I like their service, but I find their coffee vile.
“When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put aside childish things.” Some of you will be familiar with this (1 Corinthians 13:11). I personally think it’s a little flawed; our childish things, like rag dolls, bring perspective to our world. We don’t always have to have a doll on our desk to have the memory of it, and to colour our world. What would life be without the constant memory of having lived it?
Anyway – another bridging chapter, but with action. Told from a villain’s perspective; sometimes these are fun to write, but I want to keep them to a minimum because I’m positive we want to read about heroes, not arseholes.
Word goal: 2,500. Word achievement: 3,300.