The Recluse — An Introspective Exercise

Preface

I’ll start by saying that this was one of the most challanging writing exercises I’ve faced. And the funny thing is: at first glance it seemed so simple. Alas, give an overthinker a ‘simple’ task and watch their head explode! I once spent about half an hour on a Zelda dungeon because there was no way the puzzle solution would be that simple (spoiler: it was).

But it was relieving to hear from my mentor that exercises such as the one we did are notoriously difficult to do! So, if you decide to take on this challenge and find you didn’t have such a bad time; well, I’m happy for you.

Exercise

So, this is what I worked with: come up with a detailed character sheet and give detailed answers for the following:

For (character) to love is to ‘XXXX’ — For Edward to love is to adventure together.

What do they want most? In terms of values what Edward wants most is to adventure together with the people he loves. But when in reaction to his fears what he seeks is for the other person to express unequivocal evidence that their connection is real and that they’re close.

What do they fear most? That his connections are not real, that what he feels for others is not the same as others feel about him. That it’s all a delusion on his part.

And write a one-page scene detailing their innermost thoughts in whatever situation you wish. The rule: to keep the three points in mind while writing this scene (wether this is through relationship and dialogue or even how they describe the setting around them).

And below is what I came up with. I’ll include an afterword at the end!

The Recluse

Edward’s fifteen minutes late according to his schedule but half an hour early according to the scheduled time. For some, this would come as great relief; for others, an unnecessary waste of time; but for Edward that’s cutting it a bit too close. As a self-proclaimed, self-appointed recluse, those forty five minutes of sitting in silence before a social interaction are essential for him. Even more so in a case such as this, when he’s been actually looking forward to the interaction.

It’s been twenty six years since Edward took over his family’s ancestral home and settled residence at Alton Hall, managing the land, business and leaving his “Foolish youthful explorer aspirations behind," as the late Lord Holton used to say.

But a deal is a deal and Holton men never go back on their word, this apothegm drilled down on generations of their family by his grandfather, great-grandfather and who knows how many other great fathers behind them.

Edward was not a great man, he was a curious one and a not-so-great father. Not that Poppy ever said it to his face, but Rosamund glared it enough across the table whenever they came to visit to make it clear what her thoughts were about him.

In what some writers would describe as a poetically melancholic synchronicity of man and nature, a big sigh accompanies the autumnal leaves spurred by the wheels of his car. But for many years now Edward has been living with a symphony of sighs, so it paints no beautiful picture in his resigned heart.

Though when his thoughts turn to Atticus’ train, the colors of the countryside turn a smidge brighter. Perhaps driving through his thoughts rather than sitting at the station won’t be that terrible. 

What different lives have these best friends lived… best friends, can they even be called that? The best of friends ought to have more contact with one another, right? Like most things in his life, Edward has doubts about this too.

“Just because you were roommates and classmates during university and went on many adventures together doesn’t mean the same relationship stands the testament that is time.” He reasons out loud. “A couple of letters every year doesn’t make up for lost time…” and laughs. 

Rosamund and Poppy were not very fond of his habit of talking to himself, his wife calling it unbecoming and his daughter calling it embarrassing more times than he could count. “Seriously daddy, especially when we have guests over!” Poppy would say, cheeks inflamed with red. Which, to be fair, wasn’t very often—not at all since the last few years. So a glare, or sound of disapproval was mostly what he dealt with nowadays. 

At this point, there’s no disapproval that the girls can throw his way that he hasn’t heard before, and if he’s honest with himself, Edward never minded much the opinions of others. And well, the staff don’t care much for nobility’s quirkiness if their wages and living conditions are fair and paid on time.

Truth is, life has been lonely for him. Even during his youth Edward was always considered the odd one, so it came as a great surprise for him when his fellow roommate became genuinely interested in befriending him, of wanting to spend copious amounts of time with him. So it’s not as if he didn’t want to be close to Atticus, much the opposite. 

Throughout the years Edward kept a close eye on his friend, Professor Atticus Langley, Head of the Archaeological Department of Queen’s College, and his many exploits, discoveries and publications. Edward lived most vicariously through his friend—or what the papers and magazines were saying about him—all the while managing his family’s estate. 

It was with heartfelt congratulations that he wrote to his dear friend, all those years ago, when he married the lovely Beatrice and they welcomed Barty into the world. And Edward cried real, heartbroken tears at the news, half a year ago, when a tragic accident took Atticus’ wife and son from him.

“Was this the right choice? To call him here after all these years? To invite him in what might as well be a wild goose chase after so much suffering?” And what if things are extremely awkward between them? What if they're two forty year old strangers with just a few youthful memories between them?

A loud bark startles his sigh into a choke, causing him to swerve. His eyes instantly find the culprit sitting on the backseat.

“Achilles you old cretin!” 

Clearly insulted, the dog barks in disapproval.

“When did you get in here?” Edward asks in disbelief tinged with amusement as his long-time companion’s ears flap with the wind. “Sneak up on me to make sure I won’t embarrass myself in front of the guests again?”

The hound howls at him and if it sounds chastising, at least no one’s around to witness.

“I know, I know—listen, I know how to behave myself in front of others,” The old dog gives him the stink eye and Edward swears this creature is possessed by a human spirit, but the miscreant only acts this way when they’re alone, “So what if I’m a bit unsure about inviting my old friend? Atticus’ last expedition was years ago, and he seems perfectly fine in an Academic setting, even from his letters—” That earns him a disbelieving howl. “And even Poppy lost interest in exploring old ruins after her debutante… don’t even get me started on Rosamund.” 

The dog whines at the mention of his wife. 

It’s been a point of contention between them for years now. Achilles loves Rosamund because although his wife pretends not to care much for him, she always feeds him from under the table. But Rosamund hates the countryside and hates Edward even more for not wanting to leave it.

“I understand my wife has a hold over you, but that woman is like the grass snakes you so despise, stalking and waiting and basking in the sun only to bite you when you least expect it.” If there’s resentment in his voice, it’s only thanks to decades of glares, silent treatments and cutting words. Whatever happened to the lovely girl he met all those years ago? Arranged though it were, Rosamund appeared intrigued about the ancient sites Edward liked to visit. It only lasted for about two years. “It’s partially that mother of hers, wretched old woman.” Finally, the dog barks in what sounds like agreement. No one likes his mother-in-law. Not even Wylla the Head Maid, and Edward used to question if Wylla was even human.

The station starts to take shape through the distance and Edward’s heart speeds up alongside his motor. And as he parks the car, goes around and opens up for Achilles, his hands are slightly damp and itching to check his pocket watch. He ignores the looks the old dog throws at him as they make their way to the platform. 

Fifteen minutes left. 

If he’s frantically pacing left and right, that’s his concern. 

Was his letter good enough? 

Atticus agreed to it, didn’t he? ‘Edward, I’ll come down in a week.’ Was all it said. That ought to be good news, right? 

Achilles is barking and wagging his tail before he can even hear the engine approaching. 

Suddenly, Edward’s hit with memories like a slap in the face. Of Rosamund’s demure smile, of Poppy’s excited squeal when she found a fossil at the beach, and of two young men rushing through the woods, covered with mud and papers filled with ancient runes ready to be deciphered. 

“Holton!” A familiar voice calls.

Edward sucks in a breath. 

Atticus looks so much older yet just about the same. 

“My old friend!” He says as a smile breaks through his face. “Brought the dog along to listen to your rantings, did you?” 

Edward laughs, a loud and boisterous thing he barely recognizes as his own voice. 

The relief he feels knows no bounds, it’s like he’s been thrown back in time by nearly three decades.

“Langley! I’ll have you know Achilles is my most accomplished disciple, always eager for one of the famous Holton lectures.” 

And if the dog rolls his eyes, well, there’s that.

Afterword

I actually wrote three separate drafts for this exercise and Edward was the one I was most pleased with. Just a heads-up: he’s not an entirely reliable narrator and this is also not the last we’ll see of him! I really wanted to write from a male character’s perspective so I hope I’ve done it justice.

With that said, I was incredibly happy with the feedback I received from my mentor about the depth of his portrayal—my struggle was fruitful one! 

Thanks to this I was able to understand how essential it is to spend time with your characters *in writing*

As someone whose head is filled with characters and stories, I had this preconception that you’d only write your characters if a) you’re creating a character sheet or b) you’re writing book/story content. I see now how limiting this idea was. The next exercise I’ll be working on will feature Edward again and he’s taken so much shape due to this exercise, I can’t wait to see what else he’s got in store for us. 

If you end up taking this challenge (because writing can be a great hobby too) and would like to share it with me, I’d love to read and share my impressions! Feel free to comment a link or send me a dm on insta :3

Thank you for reading!

Big love,