Evoking emotions in 300 words or less

[SciFrac]

it is what dragged me kicking and screaming into close.

Are you trying to avoid close 3rd? What was your hesitation?

 

[Jo Zebedee]

Are you trying to avoid close 3rd? What was your hesitation?

No, for a long time I just couldn't get there, it was really frustrating, because I knew it was where I wanted to be, but it was like there was a wall of glass between me and the characters.

Now, I try to get as close as I can without slowing the story too much when they all get maudlin and problematic.

(which is a danger, I think, with close work, particularly if you have a cast of characters with, um, excess baggage.)

 

[Grinnel]

He tried to take a deep breath, but couldn’t get it past the tightness in his chest. He tried again, knowing he had to calm down – he had the event to run tonight and security for it was a nightmare, not helped by the warning he’d received.I find the first sentence long and hard to follow. I assume you mean that the nightmare was 'not helped by the warning he recieved' but what you're actually saying is that security was 'not helped by the warning he had recieved'. Unless the warning was false, it would actually help security. He tried to breathe in, but this time it barely went past his throat, making him dizzy. Calm down.<- Should be in italics? It was nothing new to have threats raised, but the source of this one was generally reliable. The dizziness stayed and he couldn’t think clearly.

I get the tension by the end of the paragraph, but I woould shorten some of your sentences.

To hell with it. He glanced around, saw he was alone, and pulled a knife from his pocket, flicking it open and turning it so the sun glinted off the blade. He pushed his sleeve up, ran his fingers over two old cuts and laid his knife above the second cut. He drew the blade across, slicing through his skin, pressing until he hissed at the pain. He cut deeper, concentrating on the sharp blade and took a breath, right to his stomach.

He removed the knife, flicked it shut and pulled a packet from his pocket. He ripped it open with his teeth and held the gauze pad against the cut, slowing the blood. When he lifted it away the bleeding sped up and he pressed the pad down, its antibac’s making the cut sting. His shoulders relaxed, and he sat like that, watching two condors soaring in the distance. A ship approached the compound from Abendau, its engines breaking the stillness of the day.
trying for is a sense of panic at the beginning, and then a slow release of it, down to a sense of not exactly peace, but normality.

The last two paragraphs throw me completely out of the story. I have no idea how this is making him calmer (at first I thought perhaps he was using blood magic). I think I know where you're going with this (he's a cutter) but it is very confusing in the confines of 300 words.

 

[BigJ]

Still a rank noob here, so take with a grain of salt as required.

Hex, I quite liked it, could definitely feel what you were going for. Like Stephen said, a few spots where you could take a close look at the flow, but I thought it was good. I'm not sure how I feel about "scrabble uselessly" but that's more of a personal style thing I think.

SciFrac, while there was certainly emotion in the words, it paled in comparison to how I responded to the situation. It elicited some real anger for me.

Springs, I thought it worked. The fellow being a cutter was what my mind immediately went to, and by the end of it the tension had largely disappeared for me.

Well, here's my contribution. Highlight for the intended emotions at the end.


The memories came to me easily. My daughter’s gap toothed smile, her tiny voice asking me everything she couldn’t fathom about the world around her. Her inquisitiveness and exuberance was tiring, but a source of great pride for me and her mother.

Ah, Emily; my high school sweetheart, my one true love. I could see her smiling in my mind’s eye, and my already fragile heart turned to jelly. I could never argue with that smile. She had given me everything I could ever ask for; my beautiful wife had crafted a beautiful home and given me a beautiful daughter. I missed my girls.

My eyes returned to what was in front of me, a gorgeous view of the Earth through a heavily tinted face shield. The only thing marring my view was the broken tether dangling freely in open space, still connected to the front of my suit but loose on the other end.

I had already drifted nearly a kilometer from the station that was locked in geosynchronous orbit, now out of radio contact. The Earth, and the station along with it, was growing slowly, steadily smaller. This particular spacesuit was designed for nothing more than the odd walk along the station’s exterior; it was not equipped with thrusters of any kind. I could do nothing to reverse or slow my momentum.

I kept my arms and legs as still as possible, not wanting to impart any twisting or rotating to my steady motion. I intended to gaze upon my beautiful planet as I drifted away, bidding a silent farewell, until my oxygen stores ran out and I went to sleep for the last time.

Tears began to stream down my cheeks. How I wished I could see my girls just one more time.

Going for sadness and loneliness, would've liked to have played to the loneliness more with the vastness and bleakness of space if I'd have had more words

 

[SciFrac]

BigJ, that's beautiful. True feelings evoked.

 

[SciFrac]

SciFrac, while there was certainly emotion in the words, it paled in comparison to how I responded to the situation. It elicited some real anger for me.

And thanks, me too. I don't even like to read what I wrote!

 

[Christopher Lee]

Here's a 300-word attempt:

As Madeline strolled through her garden, across the yard the caretaker walked into a small, blue shed. She saw him in the corner of her eye and dismissed it immediately; he practically lived in there. The walls were littered with his tools hanging from metal hooks.

She bent down and picked a tulip. She smiled. Her mother had loved tulips, and had grown them often. Madeline would wake up each morning before school, look out her window, and gaze into a vast sea of tulips bordered by red and blue roses. She looked up from the flower, staring at the shed. He had been in there an awfully long time, and she was beginning to worry for him. He was old with heart problems.

Madeline placed the tulip gently in the pocket of her dress and continued through the garden to the little blue shed. In her pocket, the tulip wilted and died. Had she drawn it from her pocket that moment, she would have produced nothing but gray ash.

Behind her, as she continued towards the shed, flowers wilted and died everywhere as if a black wave of death were slowly spreading across the garden in her wake.

She reached the shed, and as she placed her hand on the door a deep and painful groan escaped through wooden cracks. Madeline gasped, but stood still. She pushed open the door. A gust of icy cold wind blew past her.

"Caretaker, are you there?" She stepped inside.

Out of the blackness a white figure floated towards her. Black marble eyes bore through her, beneath them a smile. A white arm reached out towards her, and she screamed. A long metal object hooked her neck and pulled her in like a black hole, devouring the young woman. Behind her the door slammed shut.

Around midnight, the caretaker emerged from the little blue shed, stretching his arms.



I wrote it rather quickly, so if it evoked anything other than pity for my lack of writing skill, I'll be a happy camper. By the way, I was going for fear.

 

[Dante DiBenedetto]

Grizzgreen711:

I started to feel anxiety and a bit of dread. I almost felt like perhaps the little girl was dead and didn't know it, or some kind of abomination, considering wherever she went, things started dying. I felt more fear for the old man, and less pity for her. She died quite abruptly.

 

[BetaWolf]

Okay, here goes: ~175 words. I used the spoiler tag at the end, so just highlight the end of the post to see what I'm trying to do here. I think this might be the start of a decent prologue.

Lizzy lay by the stream, with her back to a gnarled oak tree. She looked into the flowing water and found some comfort in the thought of cool water. So she slid down the riverbank very carefully and, kicking off her threadbare sandals, dipped her swollen toes into the stream. The girl lay back on the cool clay bank and looked up at the sky. She rested her hands on her enlarged belly and felt her baby kick. The sky that stretched clear and blue all around her made her feel small, and she began to sing to her baby. Lizzy often did this, because there was no one else to talk to.
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Everyone else had gone south, away from the advancing glaciers, where it was warmer and wetter. Alex had promised to keep her safe, to come back for her. But now she feared he never would come back. She had been foolish to follow his promise so closely, for seven whole months. She knew that now, now that it was too late to catch up with the others.
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SPOILER:

Spoiler

Loneliness

 

[hopewrites]

nope. I got happy. right up to the end where it was tinged with the tinyist bit of regret.

Lizzy lay by the stream, with her back to a gnarled oak tree. She looked into the flowing water and found some comfort in the thought of cool water.

set the scene for us real quick, which is great! the faster the scene is established the more time you have to show us what is going on in it. especially with a word restriction.

So she slid down the riverbank very carefully and, kicking off her threadbare sandals, dipped her swollen toes into the stream.

again you show us something soothing. there is an innocences and sweetness to this part.

The girl lay back on the cool clay bank and looked up at the sky. She rested her hands on her enlarged belly and felt her baby kick. The sky that stretched clear and blue all around her made her feel small, and she began to sing to her baby. Lizzy often did this, because there was no one else to talk to.

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you almost had me with this line. but there is so much else around her that is beautiful and comforting that I admire her strength and chalk it up to those inward turning feelings one gets when pregnant than anything else.
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[FONT=&quot]Everyone else had gone south, away from the advancing glaciers, where it was warmer and wetter. Alex had promised to keep her safe, to come back for her. But now she feared he never would come back. She had been foolish to follow his promise so closely, for seven whole months. She knew that now, now that it was too late to catch up with the others.[/FONT]

again, it just leave me with an impression of her strength and a question of whether or not she will make it and how. I kind of expect Alex to show up when things are hardest and help her become the Mother of a new people. a hardy people that thrive on beauty and wonder. artisans who know the meaning of hard work.

 

[BetaWolf]

Thank you, hopewrites. This is a very intimate story that I'm writing, in both senses of the word. I'm drawing on some personal experiences, so I was hoping that it was coming across okay. She's alone in terms of not having other human beings to talk to, but she's a very contemplative kind of person who lives in the moment and keeps herself occupied.

I appreciate what you wrote about how the story could turn out. I have a few ideas myself, but I'm not sure which road I'm taking yet.

 

[Jo Zebedee]

Yes, I got a certain amount of wistfulness from it, Betawolf. More wistful than lonely, though, which mightn't be a bad thing.

I have two people's emotions -- and one of them has a range of emotions here -- that I'm trying to convey from one pov?


James laughed along with him, and said something about it being like Mars all over again, while Sylvie gritted her teeth and waited for him to be done. Calvin pointed them out the door and she walked off, leaving James to catch up. He did, passing her, and she looked back. In the distance, Luc was watching her, his face cast in shadow. She swallowed. Luc Beson, here on the base. It was like the gods had decided to laugh at her, and put the one person – the only person – she would have begged not to see on this mission in front of her. He gave a half smile and her stomach lurched, in a way it hadn’t for James for years, and she had to hurry away before he – or anyone else – could see.
She reached the end of the corridor and James was waiting for her. Estevez, his mining team mate, was alongside him. When he saw Sylvie, Estevez ducked his head and left, his steps quick and full of pent-up energy.
“Who was that in the hangar?” asked James. “I don’t like the way he was with you.”


Sylvie, the pov character -- I wanted anger/annoyance at James, attraction for Luc and worry/foreboding at the situation

James -- I wanted jealousy, maybe a touch of anger.

 

[BetaWolf]

Thanks, springs. 'Wistful' is probably a better word. I'd like to bring her space marine lover back to her, but I'm not sure it is the best thing for the story.

For your excerpt, I got that Sylvie is ambivalent about this Luc fellow. Old flame I'd say from what you said. There were a lot of characters floating around, but I guess there would be if the mission is just starting off. Not sure that she wouldn't know who would be coming along unless she or Luc was a last minute addition.

James is getting suspicious, maybe just becoming ever so little bit jealous. I don't know if Sylvie is the only woman on this mission, but he seems to be getting territorial with his woman.

 

[Glisterspeck]

Here is the opening of a short about dealing with the emotions I've tried to show here. The first story I ever submitted for publication, and in so being, it is also my most rejected story. Just under 300 words.

_________________________________

Carried on a chocolate wind, Caroline Kedzie swirled around her husband, who stood transfixed on the Michigan Avenue Bridge. The city always smelled of chocolate when the wind blew from the cocoa factory downriver. The Kedzies had discovered this together, on that bridge, when they first moved to Chicago.

Jack Kedzie breathed her in, leaned against the rail, and stretched his fingers toward the water. He could almost touch her hand again, almost see her smile, almost hear her whisper that the air smelled like brownies, but he touched nothing, saw nothing, heard nothing.

Caroline's image took form in the water only to melt in the wake of a passing tour boat. Kedzie tried to conjure the image again. Caroline’s hair swung and bounced and turned from blond to black as dark water seethed up through it. He tried again. A man in a suit bumped him, and he lost her, and he sighed and breathed in the chocolate air. He tried again. She was so close. He reached over the railing, standing on tiptoe. The darkness welled up to take her. He tried again and began to sweat beneath his jacket. He tried again, and his heart raced. He tried again. And again.

A bus rumbled across the bridge. Kedzie turned and ran after the bus. Whenever the air smelled like brownies, he ran for a bus. Whenever he heard the name Caroline spoken aloud, he got on a bus. When he saw the bounce of a shaggy blond bob or smelled her perfume, he boarded a bus. A distant and confident stride, an unexpected smile, anything hot pink, the sound of the cello, each would send him to the nearest bus stop. On the bus, he was alone. Caroline Kedzie never rode the bus.


Spoiler: haunting grief and lonesomeness

 

[BetaWolf]

Glisterspeck: I get his disconsolate longing for his lost love. The imagery was rather odd for me. The sense of smell is underserved in fantasy IMHO, so I like how you used it.

 

[hopewrites]

She swallowed.

just wanted to say how brilliant this was in context. two words. two! and we get paragraphs of information about how her emotions are effecting her physical and therefor mental state. a strong sense of longing is firmly established. without removing the question "longing for what" which plays up later in the scene. I love how with these two words you take us from a normal walk from a normal conversation to an internal conflict neatly covered by the confident stride established just before.

in a way it hadn’t for James for years

innocent aside? no another brilliant bit of writing. in one small aside we get years of back story. and the crucial knowledge that James has committed the ultimate relationship sin, letting things go stale. countless studies and novels will show that lovers stray when things get routine. when the sparkle goes dim, when what one has becomes mundane and just isnt enough.


spring I always love how you sneak thing in under the radar and speak to the subconscious. I definitly picked up on the emotions you were going for there, but had to get my bit in about those two phrases as they were especially good and something i could tangably latch my thoughts on.

Jack Kedzie breathed her in, leaned against the rail, and stretched his fingers toward the water.

i was a bit confused here. reading back i dont know that i would change it, because it obviously falls into a larger story and we would know from context that she isnt there. but up until this point I thought she was really there. dancing and laughing on the bridge. which i think speaks wonderfully to your ability to conjure his feelings of her ever-present-ness.

Caroline Kedzie never rode the bus.

this has to be the most tragic and heartbreaking thing I've ever read. that the only way to escape the woman he loves to the point of madness is to leap onto the nearest public transport because its the only thing not permeated with her essence.

 

[BetaWolf]

this has to be the most tragic and heartbreaking thing I've ever read. that the only way to escape the woman he loves to the point of madness is to leap onto the nearest public transport because its the only thing not permeated with her essence.

I agree. It stayed with me these last few days.

 

[hopewrites]

oddly it didnt make me cry, no cathartic release in it. Just the idea that someone who loves that deeply wants to escape caused me heart ache, and as a frequenter of public transportation and constant witness to the varied human experiences present there, I felt it was a thin escape, all the things listed that send him scurrying for a buss (which are never there in the precise moment you want them) are easily found there. So I saw him scamper for a buss, with two or three of the listed items already on it, then dejectedly declining to board, rising the ire of the passengers and confused dismissal of the driver.

 

[BetaWolf]

I've tried to get over things before myself. So it reminded me of that. Getting rid of things that remind you of that person helps, but without much closure the pain still lies below the surface. That's what propelled me to start writing fiction in the first place.

 

[hopewrites]

yeah writing is great for that sort of thing. I especially enjoy fantasy because it's full of idioms and stereotypes that I can use to quickly encapsulate my out of proportion feelings and convey them succinctly to others.
plus it panders to my melodramatic side and i get a twisted kind of joy out of expressing myself in fantastical terms.

for example:

Have you ever been in a winter garden the day the sun changes? There is a day in late February, early March where the sunlight changes, when the plats that were dead and dormant all winter wake up. The air feels alive, and the whole world just starts to get better. Weeks later there are buds on trees and crocus and daffodils popping up everywhere. I knew I had to get ready for something; something like waking up, something that would pull me out of my shell and help me live. All that year and the next I was looking around at my life, seeing all the dead leaf litter, seeing all the decay and debris. I was looking for something, but didn’t know what.
Just like the sunlight that gets brighter and clearer, that comes earlier and stays later, you began to show up in my life here and there. You were funny and sweet. You were fair minded and patient. Your tolerance had clear defined limits that were not tested by others or yourself, but simply was.
I began to push harder at my roots and reach further with my shoots. Spring was coming. Seeing you that day in the train station was like waking up from a dream. I have never been so happy to be so terrified in my life. Like the brightest spring day that calls out with all the joy the earth can sing “here is life, here is beauty, here! Take it take it, live and be happy for there will be abundance and joy and warm days to come. Forget the cold of winter, forget darkness and deprivation, remember joy, remember life, remember who you are” I knew that life was about to get much better.

not an especially epic quote from my journal. but a direct one. from about *thinks* 3 years ago. referencing something that had happened even before. the whole thing is much longer, but those were the 300ish words I picked because they were typically poetic and made a scene as a whole.