by Cindy Sproles @CindyDevoted
Writing is more than words. I hear you shouting, “WHAT!” But it’s true. Of course, writers devise stories, and those stories need written words to hit the page – yet there is so much more.
As I have worked coaching individual writers this past year, I have found one thing to be true. The craft of writing is a time-consuming, gut-wrenching process. The words are almost the easy part.
Story, to be engaging and like fly paper, requires the addition of our inner souls. We must begin to dig deep into the innermost parts of ourselves and give ourselves permission to let our imaginations loose.
I listened to a local radio show where my ten-year-old grandson and some of his new friends shared what they’d learned in a beginning guitar and songwriting class. We laughed out loud as they strummed the two cords they’d learned on their guitars and sang to the top of their lungs. I have to admit, one eye squinted at their less-than-harmonious notes, but what I found interesting was simple. The words to their song were unhindered. There was emotion as they yowled out their fear of long dark places and how lonely loneliness is. In their first attempt at songwriting, they’d captured the feelings of being alone. Children get it, and they aren’t afraid to show their emotions. As adults, we’ve learned to corral those emotions and keep them in check. Perhaps now we pull the plug and allow ourselves to “feel” again.
When I work with newer writers, I find a significant loss of emotion in the work. These writers spend so much time getting the words on the page and trying to do it perfectly that the emotion is lost. What hits the page is a grocery list of things happening. Writers tell the reader what is happening instead of showing it, and the lack of feeling slides to the rear. In all fairness, this is not intentional. It’s a process that must be learned – the old “show, don’t tell” comes into play. Still, it’s essential to recognize what adding emotion does to a story.
I love the picture painted in my head when I start to write. The words lay flat on the page. Page after page, they are strung out across the paper, telling a story, but when I go back and pick and choose places to add emotion, suddenly, the words become 3D to me. They lift off the page, and in my mind, I can walk around each word looking at its height, depth, and meaning.
The question becomes, how do we add emotion? Years ago, a good friend told me, “Think of a healing cut on your skin. It scabs over as it heals. Find the scab and scratch until it bleeds.” Outside of the apparent pain involved in scratching a healing wound, I understood what he meant. It was a bit primal but a practice that I began to take hold of.
It’s important to understand emotion doesn’t always come from pain. Your emotional high can come from joy – like the overwhelming joy of holding a newborn. It may come from feeling pride in your children or succeeding in something you’ve worked on for extended periods. Emotion can also come from those painful, dark spots in our lives – the places we hate to visit but sometimes must go to bring about change on the page. That is what we must capture and transfer to the page.
Rather than saying, she cried. Take time to describe what was involved in her crying. Perhaps she wenched or quivered. Maybe the tears didn’t trickle down her face but trailed down her nose and over her lip. Maybe she whimpered. Emotion is not just feeling. It’s response and reaction to the moment. It’s deeper than just saying, she smiled. What’s behind the smile? Show us what drives the smile.
Example:
Hobby cracked his neck. It sounded like the wood on the old watershed breaking. That’s when the tears came. His chest ached with the loss.
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Hobby bent his head to one side. The bones cracked. It was like pulling the old wooden block from the watershed and letting the water burst through. Tears filled his eyes. The watershed was open, and he wailed until there was no air left in his lungs to push out another sob. He grabbed his chest and pulled at the bone that sheltered his heart. If he could just break it open, the pain would gush onto the floor and no longer be hold up in his gut.
Adding emotion and description of that emotion changes everything. The reader now feels Hobby’s anguish.
Learning to add emotion to your writing takes practice. None of us are immediate successes. But this is where word study comes into play. Think through your words, find the perfect word that sets the emotion on a roll, then follow it, adding stronger descriptive words, feeling the ache in your heart, and placing the perfect expression on the page.
It’s time to become childlike again. Time to release the emotion that adults hoard away. When we give ourselves permission to “feel” amazing things happen on the page.
Cindy K. Sproles is an author, speaker, and conference teacher. Having served for a number of years as a managing editor for Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas and Ironstream Media, Cindy now works as a mentor, coach, and freelance editor. She is the co-founder of Writing Right Author Mentoring Services with Lori Marett and the director of the Asheville Christian Writers Conference. Cindy is also the co-founder of Christian Devotions Ministries and www.christiandevotions.us, as well as www.inspireafire.com. Her devotions are in newspapers and magazines nationwide, and her novels have become award-winning, best-selling works. She is a popular speaker at conferences and a natural encourager. Cindy is a mountain girl, born and raised in the Appalachian mountains, where she and her husband still reside. She has raised four sons and now resorts to raising chickens where the pecking order is easier to manage. You can visit Cindy at www.cindysproles.com or www.wramsforwriters.com.
The Conversation
I love working with kids on writing. They really haven’t learned to care what others think yet. Most of the time, anyway. And they’re SO creative!
I’ve often said I do my best writing when I have pain of any kind. Or when I let myself really feel it. I think when we’re in a high degree of pain (either physical or emotional) we can’t be anything but authentic. And when we’re authentic, that’s when we touch our readers’ hearts.
Of course, I wouldn’t want to be in that high degree of pain all the time. Yikes! But I can remember how the pain pulled the words out of me, and I can still be authentic.
You are so right. I get so wrapped up in not being redundant I lose the emotional impact of the story. Thanks for the strong example.