Mulling it over

The day after tomorrow it’s our writers meeting and the topic is to write about something  which features location – to write about or including “place”. When I write it’s usually very character and action focused, and although the scenes running in my head are set in a distinct location with a vivid background, unfortunately that doesn’t always appear in what I write. This topic or aspect of writing will be great practice for me!

I’ve been thinking about it, mulling it over – which is good, too often I leave my writing to the last minute and then it’s not exactly stream of consciousness, but just about! The setting which had occurred to me was a canal or river, in lush countryside, vivid and green, with languid water flowing between its banks. In my vague ponderings there were no people, but I knew there had to be some sort of activity or action, it couldn’t just be a random description. Maybe people in a boat – or a punt? Maybe passers-by on the footpath or towpath? Cows in fields – maybe coming down to the water’s edge to drink and perhaps gaze at their reflections?

Suddenly, from nowhere a tale started to tell itself in my head, and it was very different, very, very different. There was water, but there was no sun beaming down, in fact there was not much light, it was very dark, very gloomy and somewhat frightening. It was a cellar, or maybe the area under a boathouse, with the doors shut so no light penetrated, or maybe only splinters of light through shutters or broken panels. There were maybe some wooden steps, maybe a submerged bit of platform – only maybe because it was too dark to see.

In this strange and creepy place – no sound but that of water gurgling or dripping or lapping, no proper light – in this deserted structure there actually was someone, maybe in the water, maybe crouched on the steps, but more likely in the water, floating, just conscious enough to stay on their back. This wasn’t one of my odd dreams, these were my writing thoughts creating a weird scene in a strange and unknown location. Somehow the person, man, woman, girl, youth, had a phone and, barely conscious they had managed to call 999 and was talking to a call handler.

The story which I  was beginning to write was the conversation between the trapped person – who couldn’t remember who they were or how they had come to be in this deadly situation, let alone to know where they were or whether they were still in danger. I was writing a dialogue, and began to think maybe this would be a short radio play, which was an interesting proposition as I’ve not written anything like this before.

This afternoon – away from my writing I was with someone who is in the police service and used to work as a dispatcher – sending officers out in answer to emergency calls. If my anonymous character was trying to call the police, what sort of things would they be asked? I had my own ideas of course, but in actual fact there are set procedures when an emergency call comes in, and set questions which are asked in order to elicit the information needed to deal with the situation. I’d never considered this – and also with modern technology, phone signals can be traced, so a person trapped somewhere, even if they don’t know where they are, is likely to be pinpointed within a certain area.

Hmmm… something to think about – maybe this should be more of a fantasy than a realistic story. I’m sure there’s something in it – I just have to work out how best to tell it so it makes sense within itself – even if it is fantastical!

I’ve struggled to find a featured image, so although it’s not black or dark,  I’ve shared some sinister water.