Hi everyone!
I'm one of the new kids on the block and I've been enjoying some of the challenges posted here.  I'd like to start one, based on one of the many problems I have in writing.  I suspect there is a technical term for it, but I have difficulty in describing my characters in motion.  I am definitely on of those "He closed the door and got into the car." people.  (I'm a computer programmer in my day job, REALLY!) 
Perhaps that's part of the problem, in my day job I do a lot of exception programming and in narrative writing, that is probably not a good approach.
So, how about a couple of short paragraphs from y'all describing a character in motion.  Please do not edit your efforts, (other than spelling), I'd like to see how many of you out there are like me and have to go back and re-open the door so your character can really get into his/her car.

Here's mine, and already I noticed that somehow I got the rolls onto the tray without putting them there!!!

The big game was about to start, and Jim was still in the kitchen, slathering the hoagie rolls with mayo.  Jeannie had prepared all the ingredients and snacks before she left with the other wives, and all Jim had to do was put the sandwiches together.  The other guys already had their beers and were in their seats awaiting kickoff.  How hard could it be?
"Let's see...Pastrami, Provolone, Roast Beef, green pepper slices, lettuce and tomatoes.  Ok, got six rolls, six plates, and six piles of goodies."
Licking the mayo from his finger tips, Jim grabbed a handful of pastrami and began layering it on the rolls.  Finding  himself short at the last roll, he reached over to the first roll and  stole a couple of slices.  Satisfied, he then grabbed the roast beef and repeated the process.   Poppling a slice of provolone into his mouth,  he grabbed one ofthe remaining five slices and tore it in half, placing a half slice on Dave and Tom's roll.  "they won't really notice." he thought.
Placing the last piece of Provolone on the end roll, he grabbed the green peppers and sprinkled them liberally on top of everyones sandwich, following with tomatoes and topping everything off with crisp slices of iceberg lettuce.
"Now comes the fun part," he thought to himself, "squeezing these suckers shut."
Taking each roll and placing the top half onto the pile of ingredients, Jim smooshed the two halves tightly together.
"There, the guys should be able to get that in their face without spilling too much on the carpet."  Grabbing the tray, he headed into the room with the sandwichs just as the Dolphins kicked off.

I agree with Zenbater's response.  Personally, I feel the need to shut the door, insert the key...ad infinitum.  However, at a conference I attended, a bestselling writer once explained that readers are smart enough to make the leap from one thing to the next without us writing each and every thing that happened and boring them to death.

This is difficult for writers who think on straight lines, although we can certainly read and make the "jumps" in movement as well as anyone else.  :) 

An Example:

Josh slipped his arm around Sonja's shoulders.  Man, her sweater felt soft.  The car radio crackled out a Benny tune, which everyone knew the girls loved.  Mood music, that's what they called it.  Sonja gave a little sigh of contentment and settled into his chest.  Josh's heart jumped.  He scooted away from the wheel, took a deep breath and tentatively rubbed her shoulder.  She turned her face to his, eyes closed, lips pursed.  Josh froze, staring at those pink lipstick-covered lips all but glowing in the moonlight.  Only a chicken would turn back now and the guys would tar and feather him if he didn't follow through.  He swallowed loudly and pressed his face to hers.  She wrapped her arms around his neck and up into his hair.  Steam inched up the windows.  The radio station signed off, leaving only the crack and pop of static to accompany the heavy breathing.  Whomp!  Something hit the back window not a foot from his head.  Josh froze, Sonja's lips pressed to his chest.  Sonja squealed and moved away.  Another thump hit the driver's window.  Josh clambored over and back into the front seat.  He reached for the window handle.

"This is Sheriff Dewey.  Exit the vehicle immediately," came the voice from outside.

Sonja fumbled madly in the back seat, zippers zipping, snaps snapping.  Josh's knees shook, making little slapping sounds he hoped only he could hear.  At first the door handle slipped out of his wet hand but he pulled at it again.  Cool air blasted in, freezing his sweaty limbs.  Sharp rocks pressed against the bottom of his feet.  Crunching gravel was the only sound.  Then he heard the slap, slap of something large and wooden hitting the leg of the figure standing a few feet from the car. 

Josh put his hands over his most vulnerable spot and coughed.  "Sir?"   

A spotlight shone, illuminating his naked body.  Josh crashed to the ground in a tight crouch.  Raucous laughter shrieked out from the spotlight.

"Gotcha," they screamed.

From the ground, Josh stared at his friends.  They'd nearly scared him to death!  "I'll get each of you back," he whispered, "if it's the last thing I do." 

*************************

Okay.

First, were you able to make the leap that they were in the backseat when they'd started in the front or was that going too far without notice?

And, that they'd undressed?

Sometimes you can go too far and make the reader wonder how something happened.  Let me know what you think? 

Andy 

 

 

 

          

Am short on time, but hope this fragment qualifies as an effort:

**********************************************

 

The cat sidled towards the chair, her back arched as she mewled for love. Jeremy nudged her out of the way with his foot before slumping in the armchair and reaching for the remote. The anchorman droned as he materialised on the screen and the boxed laughter cackled around him in admiration. Jeremy leaned back and closed his eyes. The smell of garbage washed over him from the kitchen. She’d be back tomorrow and he’d have to give her an answer. The cat rubbed her cheek on his ankle before jumping up to settle on his lap.

 

Jeremy woke with a start, the television snow hissed in the darkness and the cat had pulled itself out of a tight ball, sitting straight with ears flat back and eyes wide. Her claws dug into Jeremy’s thighs. His back ached and the blood had pooled in his butt. A scream scraped silence away from the night and the cat‘s tail flared brush-like as she landed on the floor, not sure of which way to run. Jeremy made his way to the door - he could hear Mrs. Harper’s muffled voice outside in the corridor already, asking what was going on. As Jeremy opened the door the scream splintered around them from the direction of the upstairs apartments and then stopped suddenly. Mrs Harper and Jeremy looked at each other – neither said a word.