A friend from my writing group once wrote a story where the opening scene took place in a Curling Rink/House/Stadium. Now, I’ve heard of Curling before…and I’ve even watched it during the Olympics, but I’d never considered including it in a story.
It was such a neat and unexpected sport to be portrayed that it stuck with me. Still does.
As I watch the games on TV, I was reminded of that story over and over. Not just because of the sport, but because of the things he had imbued in the sport when he wrote about it.
As I watch, I am reminded of the sense of space he gave the rink…the weight he gave the stone…the slickness he gave the connection between shoes and ice…and I replay in my mind, over and over the sound he included of a person hitting their head on the ice. It still makes me shudder.
One scene, one very good opening scene later…and I’m scarred for life.
I hope I can do that to someone some day. 🙂