When someone once jumped out of my bathroom closet, I was just as terrified as the heroine in my book. It took ten minutes for the tears and shaking to stop. To say it was frightening was an understatement. Luckily it was a friend and meant as a joke. Luckily no one was hurt.
Only my heroine fights back.
So I wanted to know just how it would work, in real movements.
Sometimes, how you ask the question is as important as the question.
"Excuse me, Husband, are you willing to act out a scene in one of my romance novels?" He agreed.
So, I grabbed a handy object. A black marking pen. Capped, for safety. "This is a knife," I told him, reminding him that no one needed to be hurt, and that we should move in slow motion. (We once acted out a self defense action where he was to choke me and I accidentally hurt him. It's hard to remain calm when two large hands clasp your neck.)
"I need to stab you." He agreed. "And you need to push me against the wall." He was okay with that too.
We worked out the scene until I was pleased with it. I realized which hand would be bloody and how it would work.
So I rushed to my keyboard to fill in the story, immersing my imagination into a knife attack.
A few minutes later, my husband came into the room and stuck out his hand.
I screeched. He'd carried it one step further.
Ketchup does work better than red paint. And it's easier to clean up.
Note: The post following this one is my red paint experience. I just can't show my pictures. (Yes, I did take a photo of Husband's hand covered in ketchup to go with my bloody foot photos.) If you want to see photos someone else has had to tidy up after taking—go to Fotolia.com and search Crime Scene.