Writing emotion

[HareBrain]

She stomped along the street, every impact of her foot with the wet pavement splashing water onto passers-by. "WHAT ARE YOU EFFING LOOKING AT?" she screamed at the birds perched on the wall across the road. They hid their heads under their wings and pretended to preen.

Every second standing under the streetlamp, every moment forced to wait in the rain, made her foot tap harder and harder. At last he stepped out from the darkness, like a target popping up in a shooting range. His collar was pulled up over his mouth as though to give some protection to his teeth.

"Well?" she said, suppressing her voice to mere impatience. "You brought it?"

His hand was only just out from under his coat when she grabbed the package from him. As she saw what she held, her lungs seized with the impossibility of processing enough air to power the vocal expression of her incredulity.

"This is bird seed," she managed, and the release of breath burst the dam. "BIRD SEED!"

His face contorted with horror at his mistake.

"Where is the medicine? How am I supposed to control my rage with bird seed?"

Too late to stop, she felt the transformation begin. His final incompetence had pushed her over the edge -- and it would be his final incompetence. She looked down at his cowering form, now many metres below, then at the rain-wet street, at the park, at the roofs of the buildings, at the tiny people running and screaming.

"BIRD SEED!" she roared, and a nearby tower block collapsed in rubble.

[FONT=&quot]Ten kilometres away, on a desk at the headquarters of Tokyo anti-monster fighter command, a red bulb began flashing ...[/FONT]

 

[Hex]

She stamped through the puddles, the jarring clunk of her feet on the road satisfying, fitting her red-deep, hot fury at the sod of a guardian, Michael.

Birds clattered wings like a shout.

He rushed from the shadows, eyes flaring gold. She glanced at his coat, fastened high to conceal the armour beneath, then down to his boots. It took every ounce of self control to hold herself still, not leap forward, rend him with her teeth, nails, tear him to pieces.

"I'm sorry, Ella. I couldn't stop them. I tried, we all did but we didn't expect the automata. They took us by surprise. I'm so sorry, so-"

"Did you bring it?" Her jaw ached. She shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her coat, clenched her fingers until they burned.

He passed her the packet and his hand brushed hers. Heat rushed over her skin. The air turned red with it.

"Never touch me," she snarled, smashing the package down against the wet pavement. It burst, and the cogs and springs of a hundred maybe-lives scattered into the rain.

 

[The Judge]

I ... Learned One... ago. On ... I ... Juliet McKenna ... Every Word Count. So ... work. One of Juliet's ... guest. Very ... lit? Is ... hand? Is ... health? Every ... story. It ...

Well, I haven't said so much on this board in months. I must be ill!

Capitals? Capitals?? 'ere... who are you and what 'ave you done with chopper...?

 

[chopper]

i go through pHases....

 

[Hex]

Anyone for...



... joy?

 

[Hex]

God, it's beautiful -- the high walls of grey stone, the sudden gleam of rain in the on-and-off sun. I am so glad, so very glad, to be home.

She walked down the road, feeling light -- as if a balloon somewhere under her ribs lifted her with every step -- as if gravity slackened to let her spring upwards -- so, like the yellow-beaked birds watching from the wall, she'd be able to leap into the air and fly.

The thought made her laugh. Made her wish there was someone to share it with -- someone to understand the delirious relief of coming home.

She reached the golden circle of light, stood, staring up at the rain that drifted through the brightness. The messenger's eyes were the same gold, round like an owl's, and she knew that beneath the high collar he was smiling and welcoming her home.

"Did you bring it?"

The package was warm from his body, heavy with promise. Her fingers traced the outline over and over again -- the key, finally. She had the key.

 

[Jo Zebedee]

oooh, I like that, hex. this is an exercise in overcoming a mood cos I'm knackered and far from joyful. (who came up with such a cheerful emotion...)

poo, posted way too early, here goes, at speed:

She skipped down the street, telling herself it was ridiculous to be so excited, but even so, she splashed in the puddle. Soon, soon, soon. She ran at the birds and they took off - about time, they'd been annoying her all week.

She waited, until a moment later, he came round the corner, his coat turned up against the rain.

She stood against the wall of the pub, knowing it was a wi-fi spot, and he crossed to her. She held her breath, her stomach bubbling.

"Do you have it?"

He grinned and lifted out his smart phone.

"Can it get the Chrons?"

"Yes."

She giggled and took it from him, typing in the address,finding the thread. She took a moment, checked it was posted. She looked up at him. "Ready?"

He nodded. "Lord knows what Harebrain can do with birdseed and joy...."

She couldn't wait to find it. It was ridiculous, but there you have it...

 

[Kylara]

Argh! I'm so behind! I shall catch up though I am sure... maybe a piece encompassing rage and joy, just so I don't miss out on struggling to write an emotion hehehe (two of my least favourites, my rage always uses far too many words, and joy, well, is hardly ever joyfull, I'm far too maudlin...)

 

[Hex]

Excellent, Kylara -- looking forward to it

 

[Kylara]

Okay guys, this is waaaaay long, sorry about that, but I plead that it covers both rage and joy (badly to be sure, but still) hope you like it...


The storm built with her rage. The rain beating down upon the rough grey street was getting harder. Her face twisted as she thought and hail became interspersed with the ever falling rain. A flock of great grey birds were drawn to the anger pulsing out of her, and sat on a wall nearby, cawing sporadically, reveling in the pouring rain being unleashed from the skies above. She stalked her streets with deliberate strides, her soaked clothes gaining a regality as she swept past deserted road after deserted road until she saw the offending spot.

A light! In her streets…How dare they? HOW DARE THEY?!

The clouds above became heavier, and lightning sparked the ground around her feet, thunder rumbling a bass accompaniment to her rage. Head flung up, rain pouring down, she advanced down the street. She stopped just outside the pool of glowing yellow light, light that was spoiling her streets, banishing the grey. A gentle cough from behind her and she whirled, lighting flashing in her eyes and in the skies above her head only to freeze, half formed in shock, fading a little before coming back with a vengeance and grounding all around him, as close as permitted on the street where his feet were planted firmly, unflinching in the midst of her electrical storm.
He smiled at her, his eyes glimmering through the rain and the hail and the eddies of wind whipping his coat about his legs.

‘Did you bring it?’

‘Of course! Who else but I could accomplish this?’ She flung her arms up, embracing the storm, glaring at him, but the thunder had stopped.

‘And the grey? Did you do that too?’ His smile was sad, as he slowly looked around him, at the grey streets, the grey buildings, grey birds.

‘Yes.’ Her arms dropped down to her sides, she looked bedraggled in her wet clothes, her hair in tangled messes on her face. The rain was letting up, the hail had gone.

He stepped closer to her, as she shivered in her misting rain, stepped close and reached for her. The rain intensified and she flinched away from him, head held proudly once more, but her face was covered in more than just the rain now. He moved toward her once more and pulled her close to him, her tiny figure, wet and shaking from expended rage and rain slowly relaxing into him.
‘You left. What else was I to do?’ she whispered, and he held her tighter, resting his cheek upon her damp hair. The rain had gone, but the greyness was absolute, there was nothing she could do about that, and for that she felt regret.

‘I am truly sorry.’ As he spoke he held her arms and held her out in front of him, looking deeply into her shimmering eyes, water spilling down her face. And he pulled her to him once more, staring out at her cold grey world, a world so empty of colour and life it made his heart bleed, he never should have left.

He walked her back to their house; the grey even denser here, and laid her on the bed. Exhausted she slept. He wandered through the house, touching things, looking; everything was as it was before, only grey. He left her sleeping in the house and walked through her world, walking through sun and warmth that increased with every step he took. He stopped by his light, the one that drew her out and looked forlornly back in the direction of her sleeping body. He must leave again, for just a little while, he’d said so in his note, but he hoped she’d understand. He turned and vanished, leaving her alone in her world once more.

She woke, alone in light, glorious bright light. She looked around her and smiled, he always left the best presents for her when he went away. She trailed through the colourful house, reading his note, smiling. She sighed and left the house only to gasp with surprise at what he’d given her. Her whole world was covered in him; his colours filled her eyes, reds and blues, luscious greens, everywhere she looked. He must have used most of his strength to give her this. Tears fell from her eyes and she was filled with joy, her rainbow blazing bright and true over the light, the offending light that brought him back to her, if only for a while.

 

[Kylara]

Are we still going on this? If so, I had an idea for another emotion after this one is done...well more a combo of two really: lust and despair...if we are still going that is :wink:

 

[Hex]

I am off for a week to the Land Beyond Internet, so I wouldn't be able to play. I'll leave it up to you guys

 

[HareBrain]

Is that the Land Beyond Skype?

I did write a Joy one, but my earlier exercises rather made a rod for my own back and it looked a bit feeble. I don't know yet whether I'd do any more, but it's been a useful exercise (even if I didn't appear to be taking it seriously) and it's been interesting to see how others have approached it.

 

[Jo Zebedee]

You weren't taking it seriously? *swoons* Sir, should you not make such jesting evident?

 

[Kylara]

Well that puts mine to shame! hehe

 

[hopewrites]

If we've time to catch up then, I'll go ahead and try rage. Been thinking about it on my walks home all week, and think I almost have an idea how to go forward, just not the confidence to use words yet.
Will try this evening and let you know how I get on.

Edit: ok I always do anger better when I'm hungry so I started it out before I went to turn dinner on and think I did all right. feed back welcome on this one, 'cause I still feel like I don't know what I'm doing.

White feathers and black lace fluttered limply in the hot breeze that only served to make the walk through town feel hotter than it was.

The pavement burned up through her sandals with every step, and the glaring summer sun was only kept from marring her brow with a scowl by the canopy of lace balanced above her head.

Pale skin, flushed pink with heat and exertion, bared to the sun’s intensity and endanger of crisping, slid in and out of the tiny shadow her parasol created.

Not this time.

Knuckles whitened with the intensity of her grip on the handle, it was the only physical show of her inner turmoil she would allow, and that because she was insensible of it.

Thunder rumbled in the distant hills, seeming to echo what was roiling in her heart.

Not this time.

A gasp of surprise, for a moment checked the indignant anger at the weather for being so unaccommodating. The necessity of changing from parasol to umbrella was costing her precious seconds, even if the heat was now alleviated by drenching rain.

Her sandals squelched under her quickened pace, and as she rounded the last corner between her and her objective, a murder of crows had to give way in surprise at her approach.

He was there, they both were.

The startled crows alerted them to her approach and she had the satisfaction of seeing her daughter flinch back, trying to cower behind him.

“Did you bring it.” Imperiously holding out her hand, they both knew it was more command than question.

He handed over the envelop sheepishly, and her daughter had the grace to look confused.

Counting out the measly hundred she had demanded, she smirked, turned her back on both, and walked back the way she came.

But not before hearing her daughters outraged cry “You sold me out? And for only one hundred dollars?”

 

[kshRox]

Hi guys,
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?

As she was standing on the corner a shadow seemed to pass over the sun. Everything was the same but somehow different, tinged with an intangible shadow. Tanya shook her head to shake off the niggling feeling that suddenly lodged itself between her shoulders and began walking down the busy street.

A shadow startled her, no, not a shadow but a man who seemed to have suddenly detached himself from the shadow cast by the awning over the quaint book store in the middle of the block. She smiled and looked straight at him squaring her shoulders in the process, a technique she'd learned in many business negotiations to project and embrace the native confidence she'd always relied on. But something still did not feel right.

He looked straight back at her, his brilliant blue eyes locking hers in a grip as real and firm as if he'd physically reached out and grabbed her. A cold knot formed in her chest causing a sharp pain and making her breathing shallow and uneven. For gods sakes a part of her mind detached from the events unfolding about her seemed to say, I'm panting, what the hell is wrong with me?

He was walking straight towards her and as the distance between them diminished the icy hand clutching her heart tightened its grip until the pain was overwhelming and the strength fled her body leaving her a limp rag doll gasping in short rasping breaths. She could no longer see the sun, the sky, the street or even the details of the man's body as he approached her - all she was truly aware of were those intense blue eyes bearing down upon her.

He stopped directly in front of her, standing inches away and leaned down bringing those eyes closer to her face, to her; Encroaching upon the physical space she unconsciously claimed as her own by stance and posture in any crowd or group. His presence permeated her being, violated her self. Her skin crawled and an overwhelming sense of claustrophobia rang sirens bells and clanging alarms inside her head. Every instinct she possessed screamed run! Run!! RUN!!!!!

Yet she stood there immobile. Unable to blink or even muster the immense energy required to turn away from him, much less run. She could feel the frigid persperation bubbling up from her brow leave icy trails down sides of her face as they wandered towards the line of her jaw. please - please - please a voice she recognized as her own repeated in a hoarse whisper over and over and over . . .

like some chant or charm to protect her. She remembered her father as a little girl. He was so big then, so safe and protecting. She knew nothing would ever harm her while he was near.

The voice she recognized as her own was now chanting daddy - daddy - daddy, She felt a tear squeeze out the corner of her eye and trickle down her cheek to join the persperation waiting on her chinline to leap down to the ground.

Hands grasped hers, large, strong hands. She felt a shudder shake through her body and heard the voice she recognized as her own gasp. She noted surprise from that part of her mind divorced from the events unfolding about her. The hands grasping hers were warm and supple. What did she expect? Claws? Skeletal bones?

Light flooded her vision. She was standing in the midst of people shouldering around her on the busy street, casting her confused, wary,suspicious looks as they passed by. Her world was again flooded with a cacophony of sights and sounds. The warmth from the sun bathed her skin. She was breathing deeply but normally now.

She whirled around and looked behind just as the man who had approached her turned the corner leaving only his shadow which quickly followed him out of sight. She didn't know how or why, but she knew it was him - she could still feel the presence that clung to him in that shadow as it disappeared.

She realized she was holding something in her hand. She glance down staring at them held together half open with the palms facing up. A plain white business card was lying between them.

There was a name, Bryant Albrecht and a phone number in plain black block letters. She shoved the card into her purse without thinking and leaned back againt the brownstone bricks of the bookstore. I'll just take a moment she thought as she closed her eyes and counted the seconds while her heart slowed it's hammering beats to match the steady deep rhythm of her breathing.

 

[kshRox]

Argh! I'm so behind! I shall catch up though I am sure... maybe a piece encompassing rage and joy, just so I don't miss out on struggling to write an emotion hehehe (two of my least favourites, my rage always uses far too many words, and joy, well, is hardly ever joyfull, I'm far too maudlin...)

If the text flows and holds the readers attention why is it too long?
And why do you say you write it badly?

We are all working to improve our writing and our skill levels are relative to where we are in our progress. I actually liked your writing a lot and don't think you did it badly at all. There is room to improve - but no matter who you are, isn't there always room to improve?

 

[Kylara]

Haha thanks kshRox, I struggle to write rage without getting too bogged down in trying to explain the rage, and describe the rage, and the reactions to the rage and the result of the rage; by the time that part is finished the whole part loses it's drive...I think I try too hard to get rage across instead of just going with it...hehe I cheated a little with this one, using a storm as participant in her rage. I seem to be finding joy easier having found some of my own irl, which has never happened before...otherwise I was just guessing what it felt like, and read too much like someone imagining joy, and becoming sad at not having any hehehe. Badly because I feel the joy feels a little tacked on at the end, but *shrugs* I'm not sure....I'm glad you liked my piece, I think I managed to improve upon my normal wordy meandering! This is why I am really loving this thread, it is helpful and fun.

 

[kshRox]

Haha thanks kshRox, I struggle to write rage without getting too bogged down in trying to explain the rage, and describe the rage, and the reactions to the rage and the result of the rage; by the time that part is finished the whole part loses it's drive...I think I try too hard to get rage across instead of just going with it...hehe I cheated a little with this one, using a storm as participant in her rage. I seem to be finding joy easier having found some of my own irl, which has never happened before...otherwise I was just guessing what it felt like, and read too much like someone imagining joy, and becoming sad at not having any hehehe. Badly because I feel the joy feels a little tacked on at the end, but *shrugs* I'm not sure....I'm glad you liked my piece, I think I managed to improve upon my normal wordy meandering! This is why I am really loving this thread, it is helpful and fun.

I liked the idea behind your example.
I liked the metaphor where he brought color and light to her grey drab world.

It makes me wonder who is he?
Where does he have to go?

It also makes her appear sexy in an innocent and vulnerable way.
Who is she? She is an empty vessel wating to grow.

As her character matures, will she develop a false strength? A hard but brittle exterior hiding a fragile core or will she grow into his equal as she comes into her own sense of self and power?

I think if a story leaves you asking questions it is a great story.
Especially if those question include the characters and the direction they are going?

Why else do we keep turning pages long after we should have turned off the lamp and settled into sleep?

Please keep writing and quit doubting yourself.
If you have the imagination and talent, the mechanics of writing will come with practice. I truly believe that which is why I keep trying.

I also really like this forum with its writing exercises!

As for rage - how do you feel when you are really angry?
How do you feel physically? sick? naseous? inflamed? reckless?
How do you feel emotionally? Does your anger or what might happen if you let your anger out frighten you? empower you? embarress you?

What kind of things do you do or say when you are very angry?
Do you pace? yell? throw your arms about? throw things? hit things? clench your teeth? clench your fists? Do you become very still and quiet?

What about someone you are close enough to to observe or ask these question of?

As for the storm mirroring her emotions that could be a very powerful writing technique but I think it needs to be done in a subtle manner. If the subconscious picks it up without letting the conscious in on it, I think it has a much stronger impact upon the reader.

just some thoughts