Well if you want to practice a bit of simple action and expressions here's an excerpt from my as yet unpublished novel, The Damsel. For background, Sara is the only girl in the world who doesn't have superpowers (called the Damsel). She is a pretty, natural blonde, in this scene wearing torn jeans and a fluffy, cropped sweater. The execs are just plain suit guys. If it's long, sorry, but the action is quite short.:
The Damsels of old flew in carriages all the time. I never wanted to be one of them, so I resented being in it, hence the growing scowl on my face. Most of it was directed at Gupta sat in the cab, behind an opaque screen. I knew he was there.
To be fair, the cushioned leather seats could have been worse and everything was draped or covered with exquisite mahogany fabrics, just like from those mafia movies where some poor schlub gets called into the boss’s carriage and… ZAP. I’d never seen a carriage in real life before, but that wasn’t really saying much. I had hardly been out, ever. Carriages were for the affluent. No one needed them. They certainly didn’t go any faster than a person flew - they were carried by servants after all - but some people liked flying without getting the wind in their hair, and those people had money to waste - and little common sense. I loved the wind in my hair.
I fumbled around the door for a handle to open the window, eventually finding it and sticking my head out. Wind buffeted me straight away and I had to angle my head so I could breathe in anything but rapid gulps. Yeah, they were crazy, feeling the wind whip around my head and blow my hair into and out of my vision like an angry tentacle monster, that felt alive.
“Come back inside,” one of the execs said.
I took a glance at the shiny toy town below me, winking in the sunlight and then returned, trying to sit dignified. My hair was a mess. I let it be, like it didn’t bother me, but oh, it did. So I had to endure their stares while I flattened and groomed it back into an acceptable wavy mess as quick as possible.
There, perfectly within acceptable boundaries of decency. Then I tried to pretend it had never happened. > There was only one TV guy in the carriage with me. Most of the time he sat quietly with a professional smile on his face, which told me that he was pretending to be kind and if I protested about our arrangement I’d not like the consequences. The executive said nothing further. He went back to staring blankly at the carriage walls.
I'd love it if you illustrated it, but no worries if it's not your thing. Your art is pretty cute so I think it suits this novel.
