The lopsided Grin...
Sometimes… okay, much of the time, writing feels like a game of charades. Body parts fly, eyes shudder, feet tap, and my favorite, the lopsided grin. Oh the handsome lopsided grin. I can’t get away from that. Honestly, I don’t want to get away from that one.
The lopsided grin is one of the affectations that made me fall in love with regency men. Strong, alpha hero, regency men. Men who are confused and tamed by unusually freethinking women of their time.
But I digress. I blame it on the grin.
What I started to say, was that every day I’m challenged to re-imagine walking, talking, smiling, and brow scrunching. I’m terrible at charades, but ironically competitive. When my characters begin to resemble the hotdog dance on the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse series, it’s time to rewrite and rein in all those loose arm waving, feet flapping, obnoxious forehead wrinkling mannerisms.
And concentrate on sounds and smells and idle pottery.
You can probably guess I’m editing and seeing visions of that handsome smirk.
Don’t hate me for the lopsided grin, even Prince Phillip in Sleeping Beauty delivered one when his horse threw him in a creek bed. Disney turned a cartoon character into a dreamy man with that one scene.
I salute the half-grin, the smirk, the mouth shrug… the infamous and beloved lopsided grin. And oh, Mitchell, you do it so well.