Writing emotion

[Hex]

Hi guys,

I recently got a critique that pointed out I struggle with writing emotion, so I wondered if anyone would be interested in a game/ exercise where we change the emotion of an initially kind of neutral-ish piece?

It would be good for me, certainly, and I'd be interested in other people's techniques for changing the emotional feel of something.

This is the piece I came up with (as neutral as I could manage -- girl walks down street, meets man, is given packet of something). Feel free to add anything that you like.

We could start with... fear?

She walked down the long, grey street in the falling rain. On the wall across the road, a group of black birds sat, their feathers shining in the moisture, their eyes round and dark.

Under the yellow streetlight she stopped and waited. He stepped out of the darkness, his collar drawn up around his face so all she saw was the pale glimmer of his eyes.

"Did you bring it?"

He took the package from his coat and handed it to her. Their fingers touched. She felt the packet -- its dimensions, its temperature -- and slipped it into her bag.[FONT=&quot]

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[/FONT]EDIT @ Kylara -- do what you like with it. I thought a common structure (girl walks down street etc) would be good so we could see how people would write it differently to get different emotions, but change the words (you can change the events too, if you really want!)[FONT=&quot]
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[Kylara]

Sure, sounds like fun, one question though: do we have to keep your words or just the idea...and I'll grab myself the fear emotion...

 

[allmywires]

Sounds good...just the kind of thing I need!

Will have a think about it and will post mine later.

 

[Jo Zebedee]

I have no idea if this is what you want, Hex. But, fears a nice one to start with.


She walked down the long, grey street. The rain was falling, its droplets heavy, making it hard to see clearly ahead. A sound - caw - made her turn her head and she saw - indistinct through the grey curtain - a group of black birds. Their feathers were shining, wet and glossy and sleek; their eyes were round and dark.

Watching: they were watching her.

Don't be ridiculous.

She stopped, under the comforting yellow of a streetlight and took a deep breath. And another. Calming herself. Yet, still, they watched. The rain eased, they became less indistinct, and she was even more certain of it.

Someone stepped out of the darkness of an alley opposite. A man, his collar drawn up to his face, obscuring it. His pale eyes - all she could see of him - fixed on her. He reminded her of the birds and she backed away. A low wall stopped her retreat and she brought her thoughts back to her mission.

"Did you bring it?" she called. He crossed to her, his eyes watching her, fixed and beady.

He reached into his coat, his hand vanishing, and she waited. Oh, god, why hadn't she asked for more details, known what she was to collect? It could be anything. He drew his hand out of his pocket, and she kept her eyes on it, barely breathing. He handed it to her; their fingers touched and she pulled away. She felt the packet, its smooth surface, and knew - of course she knew -- it had to be illegal, or why send her here to this lonely street with its knowing birds? She slipped it in her bag and turned to leave.

[FONT=&quot]He caught her arm, and she yelped, her breath high and strangled. No one knew she was here. He spun her round to him, holding her tightly. [/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god....[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]"Don't get caught," he whispered, and let go. [/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]He crossed the street, vanished into the alley and she gasped, pulling her breath in. The birds rose to the sky, circlilng her head, as if telling where she was. She pulled her bag around her shoulder, under her arm, so it lay against her, and ran to escape them, her feet slamming against the pavement, the puddles splashing up against her. Streetlights grew and faded in rhythm. Her heart beat, faster and faster, and still the birds were circling, and the darkness was growing, and the rain slicked steadily into her hair. And still she ran. [/FONT]

 

[HareBrain]

Her feet sought the pavement unsteadily with each step. The rain seeped inside her collar, crept cold down her hunched spine. She kept her eyes from those of the black birds on the wall over the road, not wanting to provoke them to harsh noise, not wanting their wet-shining feathers to flap.

The streetlamp she halted beneath cast her hands with a ghastly pallor. Her shoulders pricked as she waited. Her chest tightened, stealing breath as his shape detached from the gloom, his collar drawn up to conceal his face.

"D-d-d-d-did-did y-you," she stammered, "b-b-b-b-b-b-bring it?"

He removed the package from beneath the secretive heaviness of his coat. Her fingers brushed his and she froze them still, not wanting him to witness her shudder. The packet possessed the size and warmth of a beef heart. It slipped into her bag easily, as though it detested even this dismal light.

 

[The Judge]

Very good idea -- I haven't got time to do it justice now, but I'll try and have a go later. But just to point out, in my lawyerly way, that the original passage isn't at all neutral, is it? You might not have given her feelings but a grey street immediately raises ideas and emotions -- sorrow, boredom, depressing lives. The rain, too, adds to that because of the way we use weather to show emotion (the pathetic fallacy). The black birds -- our culture dislikes and fears the colour black -- their dark eyes, the man stepping out of the darkness, all of these are pushing us towards fear, as does the word glimmer and his pale eyes, which are unusual and therefore unsettling. All of these word choices are pushing us into a state of mind. The possible problem is the grey boredom is fighting the dark fear.

 

[Hex]

I know -- I tried having nothing like that, but then there were about four words... it's why I thought fear might be a good one to start with. It'll be harder to do ecstatic joy with this setting (looking forward to it, though)

Nice rewrites, springs and HB!

 

[Jo Zebedee]

She swooned, realising what was in the package and hurried home to read the latest instalment in the 50 shades trilogy... easy.

 

[Kylara]

Right here goes...I always find these things terribly difficult as the huge story that blooms in my mind is unknown to everyone and I find myself wanting to info dump everything into the piece...but anyway, I think this does fear, a little at least...maybe tension...oh well, enjoy...

She walked, shrouded in the falling rain. The street was deserted, such a contrast to its bright, lively bustle earlier that day. It was exactly as she’d hoped, deathly quiet, just the insistent drumming of the rain on the oily road, tiny rainbows of despair.
Her eyes darted as she reassured herself that there was no one following her, at least for now she had shaken her tail. Either that or they had just got better at not being seen. She glanced across the street at the wall bordering the condemned; two black birds were staring at her, through the rain. Turning away, she thought no more of them, though they watched her quickening step as she stumbled through the darkness.
She saw the streetlight and paused, was it a trap, or would her troubles finally be over? She took a breath and stepped forward into the light; her night vision gone, all around her was black. A quiet splash behind her, she spun, straining her eyes. She stiffened as she heard quiet deliberate breaths behind her. Slowly she turned, shaking, to two pale eyes staring out at her from the darkness, too far away to be reflecting the light she stood under. Their shimmering caught her and she felt herself lifting a foot to step nearer, she panicked;
‘Did you bring it?’
She sounded terrified, even to herself. The figure said nothing, just stared, and then a package was suddenly in front of her. She stretched out a trembling hand and grasped it, pulling its warmth toward her; long silvery fingers entered the pool of light she stood under before quickly being snatched back, and she turned, and she ran, as the birds and the figure silently watched on.

 

[allmywires]

Here's mine:


She walked down the long, grey street in the falling rain. Above her, the heavy tenements seemed to curve into an archway, the space beneath shrinking, claustrophobic. She slowed a little, gripping the damp iron railings, closing her eyes.

When she opened them, she noticed a group of black birds sat on the rails across the street, their claws tight around a wrought-iron gate.

Squawk.

Despite herself, the sudden noise made her jump.

"Bloody birds," she muttered as she continued walking, the birds shuffling along the railings, cocking their heads, their feathers shining in the moisture, eyes round and dark.

Under the yellow streetlight she stopped and waited, leaning against the pole for a moment, folding her arms, her fingers beating a restless tattoo on her sodden jacket. She jumped as one of the birds screeched and flew away, the flutter of its wings loud in the silence. She shifted, listening for the tick of her old watch, too loud. In time with her heartbeat. Ticka ticka ticka ticka. Drawing in a heavy breath, she pushed off the lamppost, deciding to cross the street and walk around the block: anything but waiting here.

Then he stepped out of the darkness. She froze: he was instantly recognisable though his collar was drawn up around his face, and all she could see was the pale glimmer of his eyes.

“You,” she managed, through gritted teeth.

“Darling,” he said, and she imagined his wry smile, hidden in shadows. She was still frozen to the spot as he approached her, so close, his breath hot on her ear as he leaned to press a dry kiss to her cheek. Her hands trembled as she clenched them into fists, her skin pale and clammy from where his lips had touched her

"Did you bring it?" she asked, trying to keep her voice level.

Wordlessly he took the package from his coat and handed it to her. Their fingers touched, and she fought the urge to shrink away from him. The packet was small and heavy, fitted perfectly into the palm of her sweaty hand. He took her hand in both of his and folded her trembling fingers over the package.

“Take care,” he whispered, pushing her hand back. She pursed her lips together, feeling the panic rise in her gorge as she slipped it into her bag. He disappeared into the drizzle, and she let out a choked sob.

What have I done now?

 

[Hex]

Gah. I struggle with writing emotion. And you lot set a terrifyingly high standard.


##

The street was a thin tunnel through the darkness. Her skin tingled, like it felt eyes in the shadows, grasping hands just out of sight.

She wanted to run but that'd be stupid -- that'd be admitting there was something to run from. So she kept her steps even and she counted them -- one, two, one, two -- forcing herself slow so at least it looked like she was-- what the hell was that? Something shifted in the half dark -- something black and shining with a beak like a knife. Crows. Birds, just. That should calm her down, but it didn't. They watched.

The yellow light was sick and wrong -- it made her too bright and too obvious. Where the hell was he? The whole of her back was tingling like the eyes had moved, but behind her there were only the crows.

He'd got his collar pulled up round his face like spy from a film. His eyes were too bright and too cold. She swallowed down wild laughter and held her hand out instead -- the fingers shook but she didn't care any more. She just wanted to be gone.

"Did you bring it?" Stupid question. Why else would he be there?

When he handed it to her, his skin rasping cold against hers, she almost dropped it. It was warm and damp and heavy, and it clung to her hand as if it was alive. She scraped it into her bag, fumbled the zip shut.

She turned and walked back up the street -- not running not running -- with the bag heavy in her hand, pulling her backwards toward the rustling dark.

 

[alchemist]

She hesitated at the corner. One more step and there would be no going back.

Dammit, just go! She stepped forward, and there he was, standing exactly where the voice said he would be, under a dim streetlight. Fingers of icy fear closed around her gut at the sight of his grey trenchcoat, the sight whcih had stalked her nightmares for days.

She forced her legs to move, to fight against every instinct of her being, and cross the street. A small group of black birds parted, almost reluctantly, and she shuffled through them. They regarded her coolly, as if telling her this was their domain. It certainly wasn't hers.

The man pushed the brim of his hat up as she approached, and she gripped the strap of her bag tightly. He's real. They're all real.

"Did you bring it?" she said.

He smiled, but it was like no smile she had ever seen, and handed her the brown paper package. It thrummed in her palm, a sensation that sent a shiver of disgust down her spine. "Oh God," she muttered.

"There is no point in praying," the man said. "He cannot save you now."

 

[Jo Zebedee]

So, what happens now, Hex? Do we get a new theme, or can anyone choose, or do we hold this one for a while longer. I have a possible in mind...

 

[HareBrain]

Can we do "Cornish guilt"?

 

[Jo Zebedee]

Well, see, that's a million times better that my suggestion of Germanic hysteria.

*wanders to the corner, inconsolable*

 

[Hex]

Yes, let's have another one -- but something simple.

I don't want to get involved in a dispute about the difference between guilt in Cornwall and Devon. The boundaries blur (especially at this time of night). Hysterical Germans, springs...? Hmm.

Thoughts?

 

[Jo Zebedee]

attraction.. it is that time of the night, after all.

 

[AnyaKimlin]

Fear - and I'm waiting for the next one:

She gripped herheavy handbag tight as she walked down the long, grey street. The rain fell round her but she barelynoticed it as she focused on the goal ahead. Her heart pounded in herears. On the wall across the road, agroup of black birds sat, their ominous feathers shining in the moisture, theireyes round and dark. The largest onescreeched, it echoed round. Her heavybreath created clouds of mist in front of her face.

Beneath theyellow gloom of the streetlight she shivered and looked round, nothing she sawnothing until he stepped out of the darkness. "Did you bring it?"

His hand went to his pocket and she bit her lip watching him intently andcontemplating if she needed to run. He handedher the package, their fingers grazing. Shehefted it, feeling the cool steel and carefully placed it in her bag. Without another word she turned and walkedaway with as much speed as she could muster, praying the adrenallin wouldn’trun out before she got back to her car.

 

[Teresa Edgerton]

I'm late with mine for the "fear" scenario, but since I've written it I'm going to post it. My idea was not to add extra context, and just to work as much as possible with what was already there to see what could be done with that. So I'm afraid it's not as interesting as what the rest of you have done.

She walked down the long, grey street in the falling rain. Her light woolen coat was already soaked, but the chill she felt seeping into her bones was nothing to the cold dead weight in her stomach. On the wall across the road, a group of black birds sat, their feathers shining in the moisture, their eyes round and dark. Spies. They must be.

She laughed nervously. No, just birds. Ordinary birds. She had been imagining dangers ever since she left home.

Under the yellow streetlight she stopped and waited. Maybe he wouldn't come. Please God he wouldn't come. She gasped when he stepped out of the darkness, his collar drawn up around his face so all she saw was the pale glimmer of his eyes.

Her voice shook. "Did you bring it?"

He took the package from his coat and handed it to her. She flinched as their fingers touched. She felt the packet -- its dimensions, its temperature. Tangible. The unreality of the situation suddenly became all too real, too enormous to take in at once. She couldn’t breathe; her mind blanked.

When she came back to herself she was already halfway home, stumbling in her haste. Her body had recognized the danger her brain had been too stunned to comprehend.

And all the rest of the way the thoughts whirled in her head: What have I done? What have I done?

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[hopewrites]

when i read the original set up I thought the girl meeting a guy for an exchange was the neutral idea, and that we take just that kernel to expand into an emotive piece.

I'm going to run with springs idea of love, or something like. Both fear and love are highly charged emotions, and as extremes are usually easier to hit then not, I think it ought to be easy enough and show good contrast.

When I read I look for the emotion to come out in the details, atmosphere and all that.

anyway here goes.

The falling rain seemed to sing along with her as she walked along the darkened street. Each puddle glistened and shimmered with the lights of passing cars, street lights, and neon signs. The lilting melody of "Singing in the Rain" occasionally escaped her lips, and the dampness of the day seemed to give her a glamor unsuited to her usual feelings about getting wet.

On the corner where they first met, years ago now, she waited, smiling secretively. Passers by looked twice, and she would give them a cheerful wave, bemused and delighted when she got one back. It made her want to bust out laughing, imagining what they must think of her, soaked jeans and t-shirt, standing in the rain, and smiling.

He rounds the corner, a block away, steaming drinks in hand, and just as handsome as ever. Five years they've been together, five years of meeting here rain or shine, she doesn't wait. Pelting down the sidewalk, shoes sending out diamonds or water with each impact, laughing eyes dare him to resist the charm of a grown woman running to met him.

He doesn't, grinning as wide as she, he braces for impact. As she flings herself into his arms, he spins her around, adding mocha drops to the rain swirling off them.


After a long kiss, and an even longer pause while they catch their breath, lost in each other eyes, she says unnecessarily, "I missed you."

Another kiss, "I missed you too. Here," he hands off her (now half) cup of mocha and starts digging in his pocket.

"You brought it?" excitement lifts her to her toes as she tries to peer impossibly into his tight jeans pocket, made sticky with rain.

"You bet I did!" Finally extracting a small box and producing it with a flourish, "couldn't let you go home without it"

i decided to keep the rain, partly because I love it, and partly because it would be a challenge. too few love scenes are set in the rain any more. I, personally, think there is a romantic element to being ridiculously happy when everyone else around you is doggedly miserable, and expected to be so.