by Bo'sun | September 15th, 2009
I was limb shaking angry a few days ago and in the midst of that hard, tight feeling I remember thinking – I really should go and write. Right in the middle of it. How absurd is that? To feel such an intense emotion and my fingers were itching to write. I wanted to write the fight scene between my hero and heroine where, at the crux of it, they confront what they are feeling for one another and she challenges him to recognize and accept his feelings. In a perfect world my laptop and ergonomically correct chair will appear and off I’d go and finally get those ten pages written because, naturally, they fall into bed , their anger transferred to pure lust.
Alas, this is not a perfect world we live in. I had to reign in my anger and move on with my day. I’d get back to writing all that delicious emotion later. I was sure I could somehow recapture the essence of what I had felt and translate that to paper.
The truth of the matter is, I don’t think I ever captured that degree of anger. How do I conjure up that deep an emotion? What memories do I dig into – save the ones just felt earlier in the day – and make them work for me? Should I have engaged in some sort of exercise to make it all come back to me. I mean, I didn’t need to recall the entire incident or the events that led up to me walking around tight from the nape of my neck to the tips of my toes. I just wanted the essence of it. The recollection of the sensations would have been enough for me.
We’ve heard the platitudes.
“Oh, I know exactly how you feel!”
Or
“Well, I can tell you what I’d do if that ever happened to me!”
If you know how I feel or what you would do in my shoes, kindly share those pearls of wisdom with me. Are there exercises that you use to write what can be a pivotal scene in your story? Should I just let go and let ‘er rip and see where the chips fall? I pour my heart and soul into my writing but I’d like to know how that process works for you. Feel free to share parts of your stories that you feel best express an intense level of emotion that both the hero and heroine are feeling. That emotion can be anger, fear, lust, love, terror, anxiety. Consider it a smorgasbord of emotional tidbits.
I have had turtle. Cajun style straight out of New Orleans, at least according to my dad.
You’ve all lost your minds, but it’s great the tangent on the absent foodie’s blog is a food topic.
I was watching a British talk show the other night and they were showing pets that belonged to world leaders. When they showed Kim Jong Il’s (sp?!) cat, it was just a plate of food. LOL! That Graham Norton, he’s so funny.
My ex brought home squirrel once. I refused to have anything to do with it so he cooked it and ate it himself. My cast iron skillet was never the same. I saw people eating frog’s legs on the cruise I took many moons ago, but I have no desire to try them myself.
My kiddo loves chocolate gravy. She’s such a southern child. LOL!
I’ve also had turtle! My dad fixed it when I was in 2nd grade. I remember it vividly. He fried it up like chicken. *LOL* And it tasted a lot like it–or like frog legs, actually…not quite chicken, but not bad.
I got to watch him dress the turtle…it was quite the learning experience.
Terri, there was nothing wrong with your cast iron skillet. *eye roll* Please.
I do have limits though. Absolutely no possum…and I think raccoon tastes gross. (I only had a bite.) Venison isn’t the tastiest, but not bad in chili.
It’s not really the squirrel that’s the problem, it’s the hair on the squirrel. Which is hard to get off. Or so it was explained to me.
For this Yankee, anything that can qualify as typical road kill is not going on my table. Though I have had venison (that’s deer meat, right?) and if cooked correctly, it can be good. But you really have to know what you’re doing.
And now I feel terrible for that poor little turtle. I mean, it’s not like he could have run away or something.
I’m finicky for a reason. The smell of gizzards frying still makes me gag. Thank god I don’t have to deal with that. Or chicken livers. Or hearts. Or anything else anyone can think up to fry. Just because it’s fried does NOT mean it will taste good. Regardless if it’s in lard or not.
I had rabbit once. Thank god I can’t remember it.
LOL This is my new favorite method for writing great emotion. Mix it up with getting distracted by food.
Renee! Like Hal, I think you may have clicked something loose for my story. Renee said,
It’s a very intense scene and I needed to get into his head to think those convoluted thoughts, to see what he thought he saw (mainly his wife being accosted), smell (his own burning flesh), all the while drugged.
I have a loosely similar situation with my heroine. At first it was mental illness issues but I’ve changed that to it only appearing that way. Actually it’s drug induced halluciations, which isn’t found out until very late. Part of my evil plot. Anyway, I’ve been shying away from getting into her head. Wonder why? lol Purposely I’ve stuck with the hero, but I’m at the point where I really need to get into HER head; to think those “convoluted thoughts” but still try to maintain a “is this real?” doubt (that being is Ben a ghost or her hallucination) in the reader.
For some reason, I think I can get into those thoughts in first person a lot better than I thought I would be able to. Okay, working on it and wanted to say a huge thank you.
Sin – I won’t eat those gizzards and livers alone, but I don’t mind cutting them up to go in the Thanksgiving stuffing. Or using them for bait when fishing. I’d rather slide some chicken liver on a hook than a worm or minnow. *shivers*
Melissa – You’ll have to let us know how it goes.
It was a snapper turtle. He was destroying our catfish population–Dad was going to kill it regardless. We just happened to eat it. (Mom was in the hospital at the time, so dad was “baching”–cooking with a 7 year old in the house. We didn’t live near a McD’s–so turtle it was.)
(Actually I love chicken gizzards. Not so big on the liver though.)
Terri, none of our squirrel ever had hair. Your ex, as with most of his life skills, was clearly crap at skinning his kills.
That doesn’t surprise me. Not one bit.
The first I heard about eating turtle was when I ran over a huge snapping turtle out on a logging trail (yes, if it was so big why didn’t I see it is another problem) and told a friend’s dad and he was all, “why didn’t you throw it in the trunk.” Ah, no. It gives me shivers just to think about it. Much like lately these kamakazee birds I have that keep knocking themselves out flying into my patio window. Every year at this time they get DRUNK on these berries (not making that up).
Gross. Gross. Gross.
I don’t mind baitin’ a hook, but keep that crap away from me. Worms are meant to be fish food.
“why didn’t you throw it in the trunk.”
The answer is: because it’s a snapping turtle. It would end up doing one of those Tommy Boy-Deer Waking Up things and you’d be missing fingers–and for what? Fresh turtle soup? Order it at the restaurant.
I mean, I’m for eating it. I’m just not for hunting it or cutting it up.
Exactly. It’s a snapping turtle. I hate nature so much more than when I was a kid. lol
When I hit a deer, the antler came flying right off. I think one was sticking out of my grill. So for some reason (I was in complete shock and standing in the rain on a very dark back road on AR) I threw it in the back of my truck.
The cop that took the report asked if he could have it so I gave it to him. Like five other men that weekend complained that I didn’t give it to them. Really? This much love for one little antler?! Gah!
Okay first I’m laughing that you she-womaned the carcass into the back of your truck–and then I’m cracking up that every male wanted it.
Reminds me of the time Pam and I went to the local store to get soda, and the Budweiser guy offered to load up our truck with beer (this was just how cute she was, it was disgusting)–and she was, “But I’m not 21!” (We were so pathetically naive.) We get back to the house and her brother, upon hearing this tale, goes, “You turned down free beer! You’re no sister of mine!”
No No! LOL! The antler. I only threw the antler in the back of the truck. The deer was laying in a ditch and I didn’t know if it was dead but I wasn’t getting close enough to let a pissed off deer kick me in the head.
LOL!
I can’t believe y’all turned down free beer either. What is wrong with you?!
We were 17. We didn’t like beer.
I wouldn’t turn it down now, but no one would offer it now. *LOL*
We’ve gone from KK to roadkill and free beer! I love it here.
Melissa, YOU GO GIRL! And do let us know how it’s going.
Chocolate gravy, I never knew what it was until I started dating hubs. And it took me about 15 years to even try it. But, I have a damn good peanut butter pie recipe from Gautier, Mississippi and it don’t include no turtle, nor gator.
Well, all righty then! I’ll just jump in and say that I adore Krispy Kremes. They never took in my area and by my area I mean the state of New York, it would seem but I adored them nonetheless. (I just love using words like nonetheless and notwithstanding)
Anyway, gravy is good. Completely lumpless which, in my opinion, is an art. I go with all sugggestions save the granola one. I has me standards.
As a butcher’s daughter I’ve had a wide variety of meats. There was a great Native American restaurant in NYC in the ’80s where I ate snake and bison. Marvelous stuff. I have to say I’m not a fan of venison. Even marinated it’s still a bit gamey.
Not sure where free beer came in but I’d never insult a host by refusing any, lol.
You’ve made some marvelous points about anger, or should I say, emotion management. It’s interesting that I can write with the TV on and not be distracted by music makes me stop and listen. So Starbucks, my writing office away from home, plays music full blast. Must it be so loud and coffeehouse-ish?
Sin great use of fruit to bring your point and emotional impact home.
Janga, great reflection on writing using the memory of emotion. I got that right, didn’t I?
Eloisa James gave a brilliant speech at National about writing with passion and using the emotional impact of your life in your writing. If anyone has access to the audio for that speech, do try to get your hands on it. That speech was well worth the cost of the conference to hear it. There was not a dry eye in the house.
Oh, and how could I forget the chat about epilogues earlier in the postings. I LOVE epilogues that take place a few years down the road and show how everyone is faring. It suits me when the hero and heroine are no longer the guarding their hearts and are open and loving life.
I hope you carry on. I’m off to dinner and will check in again in a couple of hours.
Jane-o has a new banana cookie recipe she won’t share… Let’s go smack her around…
Umla, Melissa. It goes above the U in – oh, hell, how did I do that? über to signify how magnif it was. It’s German, I think.
No squirrel meat, thank you. Bonnie caught one last week and we’re still in mourning.
So, back from the doctor and the lump on my head is like one of those fatty lumps old dogs get. I’m off to shoot myself now…;(
Santa, Eloisa’s speech hit home hard with me, as I’m sure it did with a lot of people. Definitely worth the cost.
Chance – A few years ago my doctor found this lump on my head (which incidentally has been there for years) and ordered an MRI immediately. So I can officially say I’ve had my head examined and I’m perfectly normal, if a little lumpy. No biggie. *shrugs*
Don’t worry about that lump, it makes you unique.
Let’s hope I don’t turn into my old dog and get lumpy all over…
I wish I’d been there to hear Eloisa speak! I really can’t countenance spending that kind of money until I actually have a finished MS.
Kate, I feel the same way. I feel like I don’t deserve to go to a writing conference until I got a MS finished but I went to Spring Fling last year and it was the best experience. Eloisa spoke at the luncheon and it was well worth everything it took to get there.
Ah, yes, lumps and doctors…don’t get me started on that one. I found a lump in my breast shortly after my second child was born. I hyed off to my doctor who ordered a mamogram and an ultrasound. The ultrasound in the office found the lump and so a biopsy was ordered. Go to the hospital where a second ultrasound was done prior to the procedure. No lump. Not a shadow. Nada anywhere. Back to my medical practice’s ultrasound folks. There it was again. Back up to the hospital. No lump. Sigh. Make that a growl. No one would listen to me. Different equipment, different technicians makes a difference, people. They all looked at me as if I had horns. Yes, I’m one of those patients who does not lay still on a gurney while folks talk around me. Nope. No way. Not going to happen.
Long story short (see how this topic gets me riled up?) it was determined that this lump was fibroid in nature and not an issue. Speak up. Speak your mind. Advocate for yourself. No one knows you better than, well, you do.
Folding up my soapbox now. Great surge of energy for me there. I’m off to write for a bit. I’ll pop back later for any night owls about.
Thanks for carrying on so well without me. Great resources on ship here.
Ah, Santa, I think this is just a fatty lump. It’s where it is that is strange. At the back of my head, left side…it’s fairly large, but isn’t hurting, isn’t an infection… It’s just there and it’s growing. But I won’t be talked into something without thought, don’t worry.
Good fer ya that ya stood up fer yerself, Santa.