Exercise Wednesday: The Glove Compartment
Imagine, if you will, the pitch session for adding the first glove compartment to a car.
“It’s just going to take up space. What’s the point?” the stern overseer of what gets included in the car says, looking down through is monocle from the whatever high atop the thing.
“Look, people are going to be in the car more than anyplace other than their house and their job. They’ll need a place to put stuff.”
The stern overseer high atop the thing frowns as he considers what he’s just been told. “You want to put a junk drawer in my car.”
The person making the proposal scratches the back of his calf with the top of his shoe, not because it itches, but because it’s something to do–a way to not be totally immobile under the gaze of the overseer.
“That car is a piece of art. My entire life I’ve worked to create a marvel such as that. And you want to put a junk drawer in it? In my car?”
The proposer swallows. “Well, it’ll keep the stuff from littering up the whole inside.”
Another frown, then a brief smile. “Yeah, that’s a good point. Okay.”
You don’t show overt excitement in front of the stern overseer, so the proposer doesn’t. It’s held in, as it should be.
“Could you also find a place for teenage boys to put their empty soda bottles?” the overseer said.
And thus was born the floor of the back seat.
Today’s exercise is to make a list of ten things that your character has in the glove compartment of the car he or she is driving, excluding the manual, an ice scraper or anything else that would be normally expected in a glove compartment. (Keep in mind, the rules say the car he or she is driving–not necessarily his or her car.)
(If your character doesn’t have a car, pick a similar exercise for a saddlebag, a purse, a backpack, or whatever else might qualify as a mobile junk drawer.)
Keep the list handy; we’ll be using it next week.