The following scene clusters are from my first writing class at the University of North Texas (UNT). A scene cluster is a prewriting strategy that involves exploring the relationships between ideas for a scene. Some scene clusters involve writing the subject in the center of a page and quickly jotting down related ideas around it. Lines and shapes can connect associated ideas.
In this class, we wrote a short, mid, and long scene within specified word counts. These are raw writing pieces, far from polished products.
Shot Scene Cluster (approximately 175 words): September 2019
The Arabian wind kicked up from the north, slapping my face as if a thousand needles struck at once. Reaching into my pack, I pulled out my shemagh and wrapped my head and face. I climbed into the Humvee and looked over at A1C Simpson. His complexion mirrored that of the full moon.
“Talk to me,”, I said, firing up the dusty vehicle and driving down the flight line. “Say something. Say anything.”
“Pull over,” was his response.
Before I stopped, Simpson leapt from the passenger seat, ran about 20 meters then hunkered over, throwing up. It was painful to see, especially considering the news we just received. What a bitch.
As I exited, I slipped on a sneaky patch of ice. Catching myself on the front bumper, I cursed my near misfortune. Regaining composure, I carefully approached Simpson, kneeling but no longer vomiting. I cautiously reached out and patted him gently on the shoulder.
Taking a deep breath then exhaling, Simpson said, “Well, the fucking black-eyed peas aren’t bringing me any fucking luck this year.”
Medium Scene Cluster (approximately 400 words): September 2019
The clatter of dishes resonated like crashing symbols in Jim’s head. He was in Aegir’s, the new seafood restaurant by the harbor. It was receiving exceptional reviews, particularly for their Skrei. He was so fixated on the comings and goings of the wait staff that he didn’t realize his boss, Emily Novack, had arrived and was standing next to him. Startled, he extended his hand and shook quickly.
“I’m glad to see you too,” said Emily. Entertained by the perceived eagerness in his handshake, Emily released and straightened the sleeve of the Gucci jacket. Jim eyed the suit, wondering what it would feel like to own one himself, let alone five.
“Sorry. I have a few things on my mind,” Jim said. The truth was he only had one thing on his mind: Would she be here?
Emily gave Jim an amused smile then checked iPhone messages. Emily found him a bit odd but in a charming way.
The Maître D’ approached, holding two menus. He was an immaculate man, well dressed and walked with an elegance. Seating Emily and Jim by the bay window overlooking the harbor, he handed over the menus and said, “Your waiter will be with you momentarily.” He politely nodded then departed.
Reading the wine list, Emily began deliberating vintages. Not interested, Jim’s mind went back five years. He was at the Foster the People concert when she entered his life. Tall with emerald eyes and wavy blonde hair, she caused him to catch his breath as his heart began to beat rapidly, synching to “Helena Beat”. He became lost in the moment, remembering those eyes, the feeling and the song. He was captivated when he learned her name, one that would unleash a thousand heartbeats within.
“Good afternoon. My name is Helena and I will be your waiter today. May I start you with a cocktail or a bottle from our vault?”
“Fucking Hell!”
Jim quickly covered his mouth, wide-eyed with horror. Feeling embarrassment’s heat burning his face, he shamefully buried his gaze into the menu and ordered the first thing he could think of.
“A Macallan please.”
“Neat?”
Confused, Jim quickly scanned his surroundings for anything out of place. Everything looked right so why did she say that? Was this a quick, sarcastic jab for him their relationship ending just six months ago? Looking into Helena’s eyes, he asked, “Neat?”
“The Scotch?”
Long Scene Cluster (approximately 780 words): September 2019
Edwin looked out the window, a monolith of glass opening the pale wall that surrounded it like the flesh of a white peach. The evening sun lit up the outside world as if it were the opening act for the annual 4th of July firework show that was happening tomorrow. Green grass and leaves on the two oaks were dyed with brilliant orange and red like rockets streaking across the crisp, clear sky. The distant mountains were hued in blue, standing as a backdrop like the rows of people that would line Oxbow Park. The view stood in intense contrast to the sterile lightness of the hospital room.
Turning back into the room, he saw that the digital clock on the nightstand displayed 7:30 pm, pointing the numbers to the bowl of fruit and pitcher of water as they were ringing a dinner bell. Edwin pursed his mouth slightly. He was in no mood to eat or drink.
Stepping around the tv suspended from a mechanical arm in the middle of the room, he made his way over to the black stack chair sitting in the opposite corner. It was one of those bruising hardback styles that mirrored the mood of visitors in its appearance, color, and discomfort. Sitting down and sighing, he ripped out and wadded the piece of paper he was writing on in his padfolio. He dunked it into the small trash can next to him. The action rippled the clear liner, creating a wavy imperfection in an otherwise orderly environment.
“It isn’t like you to be so huffy, Counselor,” came a soft voice from the other end of the room.
Looking up, Edwin made eye contact with Heidi. She was frail, smaller than he had ever seen her. She lay there, confined to the pit within the bed’s metal frame. The sight of her made his eyes water, further distorting her appearance. Even though it was no fault, she was fracturing Edwin’s heart along a thousand fault lines.
“Well, someone decided it would be a good idea to pick this weekend to act like they were retiring from the world, “Edwin said sarcastically. “It is the biggest celebration of the year, and we are supposed to make the big announcement during the festival but no.”
He grabbed three Kleenexes from the box on the table next to him. He was a strong man with big emotions. The situation called for extra precautions.
Heidi grinned. She was a woman who loved to utilize playful sarcasm and self-deprecation to educate and inform. Her ways carried over to her friends, colleagues, and family. To know her was to be in the presence of a person who was indeed a larger-than-life character akin to Laura Bullion or Rose Dunn.
“Do you see that painting over your head?” Heidi asked.
Edwin turned around and looked at the pastel behind him. A field of Holsteins was painted in various poses on a grassy area. The scene resembled the brilliant world beyond the window.
“As I told you a million times, Mami and Dad were dairy farmers until after the war. As a little girl, I always loved going out to the farm and exploring the barns, running with the cows, and swimming in the ponds. It was heartbreaking when they had to sell.”
Edwin had indeed heard this story a million times. In this million and first time, though, he could sense something was different. He straightened up and listened intently.
“I have something to share with you, something I failed to mention,” Heidi continued. “I bought back Mami and Dad’s farm. The barns are restored, and the fences repaired. I even have a small herd. They aren’t to be milked, though. I want them to enjoy just being cows.”
Edwin shot up in disbelief. As her attorney, he was privy to her personal and professional dealings, but this caught him off guard. She was truly “The Rose of Durango.”
“I want to be buried under the grove of Quaking Aspens on the hill by the main barn. The spot overlooks the river to the west. The sun sets so beautifully behind the mountains. Tell Cullen. I worry about how he’s going to be after.”
Edwin leaned against the wall, starting to sob. As Heidi was known to say, everyone within “a hundred dang miles” would shout with the jubilation of her action as they grieved with broken hearts of her passing. This would be the grandest reclamation for a town dedicated to historical restoration.
Edwin raised his head, wiping tears from his eyes. As his heart beat rapidly in the conflict between sorrow and joy, he looked Heidi in the eyes.
“I promise, Mom.”
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