SOPHIE LITTLEFIELD

Creating Emotional Depth

SOPHIE LITTLEFIELD’s first novel, A Bad Day for Sorry, won the Anthony Award and the Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best First Mystery of 2009 by RT Book Reviews magazine, and it was nominated for the Edgar, Macavity, and Barry awards for Best First Novel. Sophie’s first young adult novel, Aftertime, debuted in March 2011. Her award-winning short stories have appeared in a variety of publications. Sophie lives in Northern California with her family.

 

 

I ’m always surprised when writers tell me they struggle with writing emotion. Humans are emotional creatures; most of us have experienced a full complement of emotions by the time we are adults, and gaps in our experience can be filled by observing others.

The difficulty does not appear to lie in understanding a character’s emotions—writers tell me that they know their characters are feeling disappointment or joy or desire or grief or any of a hundred other emotions—but in putting them into words that will not get in the way of the story’s momentum. There is a tendency to tell without showing: “Sharon was sad.” Many writers know they need to improve in this area, but don’t know where to start.

To write emotion effectively, a writer needs to first learn to pay attention to how emotions feel and look. Our bodies are reliable reflectors of emotion, and by noting and describing the sensations that result from feelings, you can teach yourself to write them believably. Just as important are external manifestations of emotion—changes in expression, skin tone, and voice; tics and gestures—and you can train yourself to observe these as well.

The quickest way to lose a reader is to present an unsympathetic hero. Typically, as we create characters, we rely on their actions to convey heroism or likability. But a character’s appeal is just as dependent on his emotional motivations as on the particular choices he makes.

A detective who leaves his girlfriend because a difficult case demands all his time may come across as cold or selfish, alienating readers. But what happens if you explore the emotions behind his actions? Consider these two possibilities:

The detective is afraid that the killer is learning too much about him and may use that knowledge to hurt him through those he cares most about, including his girlfriend, so he pushes her away. His principal emotion is fear; he may also feel fury, protectiveness, and other emotions as the story progresses.

The detective’s botched handling of the case leads to harsh judgment by a superior, which in turn dredges up feelings of unworthiness from the detective’s past, stemming from a parent’s neglect after the accidental death of a preferred sibling. The detective compensates by spending nearly all his time at work and by drinking and taking foolish risks. The principal emotion here is shame, followed by grief and anger.

In the first example, the detective is aware of his emotion and motivation ; in the second, he is not. Both can be effective, but the second requires the author to communicate emotion to the reader indirectly.

Readers want to feel that they know and understand the characters in their favorite books. When judging whether an action is sufficiently motivated—whether a character would really do that—the reader is subconsciously measuring what she knows about a character against his actions and choices.

What she knows includes the character’s backstory and relationships, but just as important are the reactions and feelings belonging to each character.

You must understand your characters’ emotional palettes—what they feel most often; how they view emotions; what they allow themselves to experience and what feelings they block. Remember that repressing emotions is associated with physical sensations and external behaviors as well as expressing them.

Search your writing for emotion words (“Earl became enraged”) and try substituting the experience of the emotion: “Earl’s mouth tightened,” “He gripped the wheel tightly,” “His gut roiled,” “He spoke with deadly precision.” The result is often far more compelling prose.

The importance of emotion to genre fiction can’t be overstated. It is key to building characters that readers care about; without vivid emotion there is no character arc. A character who merely goes through the motions—no matter how gripping the plot—cannot carry a story, while one whose emotions are well communicated can win readers’ hearts.

EXERCISE

Becoming keenly aware of how emotions feel is the first step to writing them more effectively.

When you are feeling a strong emotion, take note of how it feels:

• In your head

• In your gut

• In your nerves

• How are you breathing?

• How fatigued or excitable are you?

• Are you sweating?

• Tearful?

• Are you blushing, ruddy, pale?

Keep a diary and jot down as much information as you can about how you experience emotion. Try to observe a full spectrum, from positive to negative, and to discern differences between related emotions. For instance, fear can be shaded by anxiety, trepidation, phobia, or other subtle differences.

After you have a good grasp of your own emotions, start observing others. Look for differences in how people express the same emotions. A timid person expressing anger is quite different from a bully.

Finally, using the list above, ask people to tell you how their emotions feel to them.