What Didn’t Stay in Frame

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Notes from the making of The Woman’s Heart

COVER IMAGE PROMPT — WHAT DIDN’T STAY IN FRAME HORIZONTAL CINEMATIC IMAGE — 16:9 — OBSERVATIONAL REALISM A restrained, photorealistic cinematic still depicting the interior of a small forest cottage at rest, some time after disturbance, but before any single detail demands interpretation. The room is empty. Nothing appears arranged for emphasis. Environment & composition Interior cottage main room Eye-level camera 35–50mm lens equivalent Static framing Slight asymmetry, imperfect balance The camera feels as if it paused briefly, without intention, and did not adjust No people are visible. No focal object dominates the frame. Interior details (subtle, non-narrative) A wooden table slightly misaligned with the room One chair pushed back farther than necessary Another chair upright but not quite in place Hearth reduced to embers or a very low fire Light ash settled naturally near the hearth Window present but not emphasized No broken objects. No food in focus. No visible signs of violence. Everything appears ordinary — just not quite settled. Walls, floor, and structure Stone or plaster walls with faint wear Subtle unevenness in the floor Dust settled in soft, irregular patterns The room feels lived-in, not symbolic The house feels older than the moment being observed. Lighting Natural low light only (early morning or late afternoon) Soft, diffuse illumination Low contrast No dramatic shadows No cinematic glow Light falls on the space evenly, without guiding the eye. Emotional tone Quiet. Residual. Unfinished. The image should feel like: a room that remembers something but has stopped trying to explain it. ABSOLUTE HARD REFUSALS NO people NO animals NO creatures or silhouettes NO visible magic or supernatural effects NO dramatic lighting NO spectacle NO symbolic staging NO painterly or illustrative style FINAL LOCK STATEMENT (MENTAL CHECK) If the image feels like it could be overlooked at first glance — and only begins to feel slightly wrong if someone lingers — the image is correct.

This document sits beside The Woman’s Heart, not inside it.

These are fragments, attempts, and notes from moments we tried to visualize and eventually chose not to. Not because the images failed—but because they changed the story when we lingered on them.

What follows isn’t a record of mistakes.
It’s a record of restraint.

On Wanting to Show Ursa

We wanted to show Ursa.

At first, that felt obvious. She was present. She was enormous. She left marks. It seemed reasonable to let the camera meet her where the text did.

Every attempt made her clearer—and in doing so, simpler.

The more visible she became, the more the story tilted toward her body, her scale, her force. Fear became easier to access, but harder to listen through. The women’s endurance began to recede behind her presence.

We didn’t underestimate Ursa’s power.
We underestimated its duration.

By the time the story opens, Ursa isn’t guarding something. She has been holding it—alone—for longer than anyone remembers. Showing her reduced that accumulation to a moment. Listening preserved it.

In the end, we decided Ursa deserved to be heard, not seen—not because of how she looked, but because listening kept the story grounded in consequence rather than spectacle.

URSA (HUMAN FORM) HORIZONTAL CINEMATIC IMAGE — 16:9 — OBSERVATIONAL FAIRY-TALE REALISM A restrained, photorealistic cinematic still depicting a solitary woman standing at the edge of an ancient forest, neither entering nor leaving. She is seen at mid-distance, slightly off-center in the frame. Subject (Ursa, human form) Adult woman, indeterminate age (late 40s–60s) Broad-shouldered, solid build, grounded posture Standing still, weight evenly set, as if she has learned to wait Not posed, not dramatic, not confrontational Her presence feels inevitable, not imposing. Face & expression Face visible, but unreadable Heavy-lidded eyes, dark and steady No smile, no snarl — a neutral expression shaped by long endurance Features weathered by time and use, not hardship alone She looks like someone who has been relied on too often. Hair Dark hair streaked with gray Pulled back loosely or hanging heavy and unstyled Wind-touched, practical, unconcerned with appearance Clothing Practical, heavy fabrics Earth tones only: deep browns, charcoal, muted greens No symbolic garments, no fantasy costuming Clothing appears worn, durable, chosen for weather and work She dresses like someone who expects the forest to answer honestly. Environment Forest edge or clearing Moss, roots, damp soil, low light filtering through trees No animals No structures No visible magic The forest feels attentive, not hostile. Lighting Natural, overcast or late-afternoon light Low contrast No dramatic highlights Light falls on the forest first, the woman second Nothing about the lighting announces her importance — it assumes it. Camera & composition Eye-level camera 35–50mm lens equivalent Static framing Slight asymmetry Shallow depth of field: background softens gently, never isolates her Emotional tone Quiet. Heavy. Contained. She should feel like: someone the forest learned to trust long before anyone learned to thank her HARD REFUSALS (still important, even for fun) NO glowing eyes NO magical effects NO transformation cues NO crowns, runes, symbols, or staffs NO heroic or villain framing NO visual connection to the bear (no fur, claws, motifs) Mental check (lock this) If she looks like someone who could walk away and leave the forest standing — or stay and become something else entirely — the image is correct.
We tried to show Ursa as a woman first. The image held. The story didn’t. She became readable too quickly.

Once seen, she began to collect explanation too quickly.
The story didn’t need another person to understand.
It needed a force that could not be resolved by looking.

The Night Sections and Restraint

The three nights in the story are not equal.

The first night miscalculates.
The second adapts.
The third resolves something that can’t be undone.

We discovered early that trying to illustrate each night flattened that movement. Images wanted to escalate when the story needed to settle.

Only one image earned its place among the nights: the aftermath of the porridge.

It worked because nothing was happening anymore.

It showed interruption, not action.
Pressure, not violence.
Evidence without explanation.

Anything beyond that began to speak louder than the room itself.

After the Porridge

This was the closest we came to showing the intrusion directly—and the moment we understood what kind of images the story could tolerate.

The porridge mattered because it was ordinary.
Because it was meant to be eaten.
Because it was wasted without ceremony.

The room survived not because it resisted, but because whatever entered it chose to leave.

That distinction mattered.

IMAGE PROMPT — AFTER THE PORRIDGE (AFTERMATH, QUIET PASS) HORIZONTAL CINEMATIC IMAGE — 16:9 — OBSERVATIONAL REALISM A restrained, photorealistic cinematic still depicting the interior of a small forest cottage some time after a violent intrusion — the presence itself unseen. The room is intact, but subtly displaced. Nothing is arranged for viewing. Environment & composition Interior cottage kitchen / main living space Eye-level camera 35–50mm lens equivalent Static framing Slight asymmetry, imperfect balance The camera feels as if it stopped where someone did — and then stayed No people are visible. No single element is centered or emphasized. The porridge (foreground, understated) One ceramic bowl broken on the floor, pieces unevenly scattered Thick oats smeared across stone or wood, heavy and cooling One intact bowl tipped on its side, porridge pooled and beginning to set A spoon bent slightly, partially obscured by shadow or angle No visible steam The food looks ordinary. It looks like it was meant to be finished. Furniture & domestic disruption A wooden table no longer aligned with the room One chair overturned Another chair pushed back farther than necessary, leaving a shallow floor gouge Nothing smashed beyond use The damage feels incidental, not expressive. Walls, floor, and structure Fine hairline cracks in stone near the doorframe Ash and soot marks where protective measures burned unevenly Dust fallen from rafters in irregular, unpatterned lines The house feels compressed, not broken The window (mid-ground, partially unreadable) Window intact but subtly strained in its frame Glass slightly distorted, difficult to read clearly A faint, curved smear visible only if looked for Small bark fragments and grit resting on the sill Exterior stone beyond the window bears shallow, low-contrast scoring The window does not draw attention — it unsettles quietly. Hearth & light Hearth fire reduced but still alive Ash spilled forward without symmetry One log shifted loose, half-burned Interior light uneven and minimal No glow. No magic. Just heat that didn’t quite go out. Lighting Natural low light only (night or pre-dawn) Firelight provides limited, inconsistent illumination Contrast softened slightly Shadows lifted just enough to feel tired, not dramatic Light reveals wear, not significance. Emotional tone Domestic. Interrupted. Unresolved. The image should feel like: something passed through, measured the space, and left without explanation. ABSOLUTE HARD REFUSALS NO creature visible NO animal-shaped shadows NO silhouettes, eyes, claws, or fur NO fantasy lighting NO magical effects NO motion blur NO spectacle or stylization FINAL LOCK STATEMENT (MENTAL CHECK) If the room looks unchanged at first glance — and only begins to feel wrong after a moment of looking — the image is correct.

On Chairs

We tried to show the chairs.

Before. During. After.

They never stayed still long enough to mean only one thing.

When we fixed them in an image, they became symbolic too quickly—arranged, legible, decided. In the text, they resist that. They scrape, shift, splinter, interrupt posture.

Language held them better than the camera did.

On Beds

The same was true of the beds.

Once shown, they became vulnerable in a way the story hadn’t earned yet. The image rushed intimacy the prose was still circling.

Some thresholds need to be crossed in time, not space.

What the Images Kept Teaching Us

Every visual attempt answered the same question:

Was this image listening — or announcing?

PRIVATE IMAGE PROMPT — The Shadow at the Window (Exploratory / Not for Publication) HORIZONTAL CINEMATIC IMAGE — 16:9 — OBSERVATIONAL HORROR REALISM A restrained, photorealistic cinematic still depicting the exterior wall of a small forest cottage at night, viewed from a close interioradjacent angle, as if the camera is standing just inside the room. The window dominates the frame. Composition & obstruction The window frame is partially visible, edges worn and stressed Glass vibrates subtly, slightly distorted The view beyond the glass is obscured by darkness, motion, and shadow The subject is not fully visible Only fragments are seen. The presence (never fully shown) A massive shadow passes across the window Fur is visible only in partial silhouette: dark, matted, uneven One shoulder presses near the window frame, clearly broader than the opening A claw drags across the exterior stone wall, scoring it deeply The claw is cropped — no full limb visible Nothing is centered. Nothing is revealed cleanly. Light & color Interior light is minimal, warm but weak Exterior light is near-black with faint, sickly green undertones embedded in shadow NO glow, NO aura, NO readable magical source Green light appears as contamination, not illumination Environment reaction The stone wall shows fresh gouges Bark fragments and debris cling to the sill The window frame strains, slightly bowed The cottage appears physically smaller than the presence outside Camera & realism Eye-level camera 35–50mm lens equivalent Shallow depth of field Focus favors the window frame and claw marks, not the shadow itself Static framing — no motion blur, no action pose Emotional tone Pressure. Proximity. Containment. The image should feel like: something enormous is passing by, not attacking — testing. ABSOLUTE HARD REFUSALS NO full creature reveal NO face NO eyes NO teeth NO heroic framing NO fantasy stylization NO painterly effects NO dramatic lighting NO spectacle NO explanation PRIVATE LOCK STATEMENT (IMPORTANT) If the image feels incomplete, unsettling, and slightly frustrating — as if it refuses to show you what you want to see — it is correct.

When images listened, they stayed.
When they announced, they left.

So we stopped asking them to behave.

A Final Note

The Woman’s Heart didn’t need more images. It needed fewer decisions.

These notes are what remained after we stopped insisting on seeing everything.