Emotions

Yes, I do have them.

Occasionally.

I think I even cried once about five months ago.

Which means I'm good for another seven months, if I follow my once a year crying holiday rule.

But I was definitely clenched teeth, peel your fingers off of whatever is gripped in your clutches angry last night.

My son and I were walking Beemer, our Yorkie, who was quite content sniffing and peeing his way through the neighborhood, when an unleashed German shephard raced out of nowhere and attacked.

After multiple kicks I got the brute off my dog, only to have the German shephard go after my son. And then me. When the owner finally showed up, several bites and a side full of scratches on my Yorkie later, there were still many more minutes of me kicking and snarling to get it off of me and my dog.

I was so ticked I went straight into my house. Washed up the dog wounds. Called the police. And then took my dog back outside so he wouldn't be scared all night.

All in the attempt to calm myself as much as anything.

I didn't sigh...or stare off into space...or think...or wander aimlessly...like many characters are apt to do when you first start writing. I took action to fix the problem.

And that's how you write emotions in your books.

Emotions are the response of characters to the action, the plot, of your story. Newton had it right: for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. I live by that rule in my stories.

I'm not saying my characters never sigh...or stare off into space...or think...or wander aimlessly, but I only let them do it in limited quantities because it makes them cry.

And that's only saved for once a year special occasions.

Raise the stakes

I was watching kids beat each other up on the playground at school the other day.

It was Kindergarten, so there weren't any fists flying...blood dripping...or faces shoved against the ground. But there were plenty of hands on hips and mouths shouting, "Oh yeah? Well I'm gonna..."

I thought about stepping in. I probably should have.

But I was laughing too hard by the fifth time I heard someone shout and stomp away without ever finishing the sentence.

From a dramatic standpoint, it was the most boring fight I've ever seen.

Don't get me wrong. As a teacher, I'm glad the kids didn't kill each other, mangling someone into tears, snot balls, and bloody noses.

But as a writer, I have to do better than that in my books.

I have to raise the stakes.

While watching the fight I couldn't help but notice all the kids' energy fluttered and flitted around in every direction. None of the teachers could tell what happened or what anyone wanted. If I write that way in my books, my audience won't know what's going on, either.

It's not as simple as just knowing what your character wants. All of those kids knew they wanted to win the fight.

But they didn't know how to win. And they definitely didn't want it bad enough.

Characters have to be willing to do anything, no matter what the cost.

Even if it means they get their face shoved to the ground. Or popped in the nose with a fist.

Jerks

I like jerks.

That's my answer when somebody asks me about writing compelling characters.

I could go into a great laundry list of questions. Ask for definitions of words like compelling and character, or lists of likes and dislikes, but that would just mix all the whites with the bright or dark colors. Then everything comes out grey and you still don't know where the lost sock went.

Confusing, right? Exactly.

I like jerks. Like House. Tom Sawyer. Huck Finn. The Lorax. Clementine. Dorothy. Claudia. The Cat in the Hat. The little boy who planted a carrot seed. Vashti.

But especially House.

All spin cycle jokes aside, he is the most interesting, compelling character I've seen in recent times.

He is smart.

He is funny.

He is honest. And damaged. And pathetic. And he goes after what he wants, regardless of what stands in his way.

I don't always like him or agree with him. I AM always interested in what he'll do next.

Sort of like...my husband.

And that's what makes him compelling. House comes across as real. Heightened, of course. To superman proportions. It is a TV drama after all. But I bet he could probably find that freakin' lousy sock that always disappears in the dryer.

And he would definitely make laundry a whole lot more interesting.

DISCLAIMER: The above listed reference to my husband's personality is not meant to defame or damage said husband's reputation, esteem, or self-proclaimed sub-genius status.

Moving mountains

I've noticed a very distinct, absolutely true correlation between two things:

The more I have my BIC (Jane Yolen's: butt in chair) to write, the W-I-D-E-R it gets. When I look in the mirror and notice my flatter, flabbier office bottom it's disheartening. And boring.

Now I have two choices:

1. Quit writing.

2. Keep writing. And keep moving.

Punch it up with stairs, hills, and miles. Stop shoving junk in my mouth when I'm bored. Or frustrated. Or working.

My characters are the same way. If I sit on them too much they are as wide, flat, and flabby as an office butt. If I fill them with words they just talk, talk, talk and never get around to doing things. But if I give them a few miles to travel and mountains to climb, they take on a shape that is much more interesting.

So here's to having a butt in a chair and moving mountains all in the same moment...and then working out a few miles more!