Emotional Writing
It sucks when you write something emotional and it falls flat. Here's how to fix that, how to grab the reader by the heart every single time.
I couldn’t have told you if you’d asked. Which spilled first, blood or tears. And then mama dropped to her knees, mouth open like a baby bird. Eyes shocked, words tumbling. Oh my god, I’m so sorry child, I didn’t mean to, oh my god I’m sorry.
She was so pretty, my mama. High cheekbones and wide eyes. And so tiny and daddy takes her dancing and buys her pretty shoes with rhinestones and bowties and she lines them up in their closet under all the pretty dresses I hide under in the corner sometimes. Crying in the dark, tiny fingers tracing rhinestones, one by one.
Watching yesterday like a fly on the wall I see tears well, then spill. So it was blood. That spilled first. And of course. It happened so fast it had to be blood. She watches her mama’s eyes fill with tears. Tiny petal mouth quivers, says it’s okay mama, please don’t cry mama, and as her mouth shapes words, a fat drop of blood falls, splats on little pink slacks. Toddler size four, ordered from the Sears catalog.
It won’t wash out. That drop. A reminder. Of the first time her mommy hit her. But it’s okay. She’ll grow out of the pants. Mama will cut off the stain. Roll up the edge and make them shorts for her little sister. In case you wondered. How she learned to love people that hurt her. And you don’t need to tell her. She knows. It’s her own fault.
Some people write really well. Make you laugh, make you cry. Make you feel pretty much whatever they want you to feel. Here’s what we like to say. Oh, you’re so talented. But it’s not talent. It’s skill. Learned, like dancing or throwing a ball.
Sometimes? The learning happens almost by accident. By osmosis. Not just reading but learning. How to string words together. Other times? Learned more consciously. But learned all the same.
Teaching, on the other hand, that’s a harder beast. Because before you can teach, you have to be able to see. Look at something that works, figure out why it lands the way it does. Pay attention. See if it works consistently.
Couple of weeks ago, Roman posted a piece called Giving The Writer Space To Feel.
Roman is my co-editor at The Interstitial on Medium and a precious friend. He runs a series called writing dev in 60 seconds. Literally, one minute clips where he shares writing technique. I learn from him all the time. And vice verse, so he tells me. lol.
Anyway, here’s what he says, to paraphrase. When you take your feelings out of a piece, you make room for readers to have their own feelings. Struck me how profound that is, and I wanted to share it.
I see it all the time. Mostly on posts I reject in my publications. So often, writers think if they dump their emotions, lay all their feelings raw and naked on the page, it can’t help but resonate with the reader.
As Robert Frost said, No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader.
Robert Frost wasn’t wrong. If something doesn’t make you emotional, it’s not going to make the reader emotional either. But the trick is to have the emotions, let them fill you up. Eat you alive if they must. But keep them off the page.
Because dumping your emotions doesn’t make the reader feel what you feel and it gets in the way of feeling what they feel. So the piece falls flat. And that sucks.
If what you’re writing is emotional, you’ll convey that more powerfully by taking a fly on the wall approach. Describe it — and don’t leave out a single detail. Whether it’s a pair of size four pink slacks or an eight year old grinning from a hospital bed, proud that she can pronounce glioblastoma as you stare at her shaved head, try not to cry.
So I have two takeaways. First is next time you write a draft, go through it and see if you’ve spilled any emotions. If you have, edit them out. Replace with visual detail. Second suggestion is to check out Roman’s 60 second clips. Tell him I sent you. ;)
P.S. If you enjoyed this post, I also write on Medium. My most recent post is about how ephemeral a human life is. I think you’ll like it.
Yes, this is a fine line, like balancing on a trapeze. I write fiction and poetry more than memoir, but my poetry is often a vehicle for writing about aspects of my life, past, present and musing on the future. It’s not always easy to hit that sweet spot, but well worth the work.
That's why the I love the "Show, don't tell" approach to writing. You can never go wrong with vivid descriptions.