Finding Your Courage

Here’s the thing about writing... you can’t do it without emotion. 

Well, you could, but it would be flat and boring and un-relatable.  And, what would be the point then, really?

No, emotion is the critical point of writing.  It IS the writing.  Characters pull emotions from the reader via their actions.  As each scene, whether it’s a description of a beat up old orange couch with kitty marks and soda stains or two characters shooting the breeze or maybe spilling their souls to each other, pulls emotion from the reader.  The reader begins the story, any story, looking for an emotion.  They want to feel.  They want to be grossed out by the soda-stained couch, ease drop on someone’s conversation and feel their heart break when a love is lost.  They want to get lost in someone else’s world and forget their own for a small moment in time.

The writer, however, must feel that emotion first before they can get it down on paper and breath life into their story.  What happens when you, as the writer, do not want to feel any emotions?  What if someone you care for is not well and you are sad and frightened and are unable to face those emotions?  What if being in touch with your emotions is the very last thing you want or can handle?  What if facing those emotions through your writing makes the last thread of composure you were holding onto, slip right through your fingers?

But, what if, you face them?   They break you?  They envelop you and send you crawling into your bed and under the covers shooing everyone away? 

What if, when you push those covers off your head, you rediscover that thin, pathetic, resilient thread and there are a few more hanging out with it? 

Before a reader can laugh, cry, scream or get lost, the writer must find their courage to do so first.