A subtle difference in or shade of meaning, expression, or sound that can make all the difference in the world.
Nuances are the things that writers pick up on. It’s the telling signs that the guy sitting next to you on the bus might not be Mr. Squeaky Clean. In fact, to the observant the blood-stain spatters on his shoes and around the ankles of his jeans are obvious. The nervous agitation in which he is constantly scanning and looking out the windows. The bulge in his backpack that he keeps his hand over could easily be the gun he used to kill with and plans to toss in the river as far as he can throw once he makes certain that no eyes are watching him.
What differentiates him from the guy in the seat behind him who is a nervous, insecure accountant that is terrified of losing his job and his girlfriend and failing like his father did? He is also scanning and looking around, nervously touching his briefcase, adjusting his jacket, and working something over in his pocket that you can’t see.
Which guy would you be concerned about? Which one looks suspicious to you?
It seems obvious doesn’t it? Of course it does! The first guy has blood stains on his pants! DUH!
OK, so what if I added the racial card. Let’s say the first guy is Hispanic and the second one is white. Anyone?
“Welcome to my world of fun . . . “
Think like a writer! What is obvious is the subtle nuances. Some people jump to conclusions because of circumstantial evidence. If he looks like a punk, he’s guilty. If he’s different from me, he’s guilty of something.
Danger lurks where we least expect it. In my world, my writing world that is, the guy with the blood spatters has just left his job at the slaughter-house and he didn’t move out-of-the-way fast enough before his coworker made the cut. Guy A whose name is Juarez by the way, is pissed because those were his new jeans and he only has 2 pair. The bundle in his backpack that he is guarding is in fact a present for his mother, and he’s late for dinner because he had to stay after and clean up his coworker’s mess.
Guy B, mild-mannered insecure accountant Robert has just come from his latest victim’s apartment where he strangled her with piano wire then neatly arranged her corpse before cleaning and leaving. The used condom and rubber gloves that he wore are in his briefcase. The piano wire is inside of a plastic bag inside his pocket. He acts out the sinful nature that his mother has warned him about and in an act of defiance to her, and yet in honor of her he cleanses the world. All of his victims have been hookers, exotic dancers and other “sinful women”.
He is one sick messed up dude! So far he has managed to escape the law and keep his habit secret from even his girlfriend, an upstanding young lady who is a nurse that works for the local pediatrician.
Be careful where you step, there are land mines inside a writer’s mind.
Till next time ~