by Prisoner of Azkaban » Tuesday 20 January 2009 1:12:30am
Distortia,
Please don't feel inferior. I started this thread to try to learn from all the wonderful writers here, we all have different styles and techniques for writing, just the same as we all have thoughts, ideas and feelings.
I think the main key to any good writing is feeling and emotion if you can't make the character believable, by telling his or her story with the feelings they were feeling and the emotions they were emoting, then I you might get the reader confused or bored.
When I sit down and write, I have to be in the same room or place with that character (fictional of course) and I have to feel what they are feeling. Hear what they're saying, see what they're seeing. I do that all the time, I close my eyes and picture the scene, it's all like a movie for me.
For an example of the feeling and emotion writing, I'll post this little excerpt of my newest project.
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Late that night, he got up from his bed and walked through the hallway, as he entered the living room, he saw his Daddy sitting at the old wooden table, Marla was quietly sleeping in her bassinette beside where he sat.
There were no lights on, it should’ve been dark as night in that dining room. But in the middle of the table, there was a small lit candle. The dining room was also the kitchen, and the little light shined dimly on the walls.
He thought for a few minutes that that little candle’s flame represented his father’s hope that his wife would be okay. This was their sixth child after all.
His Dad was smoking; there was a little red light of glowing tobacco on the end of that white cigarette. He entered the room quietly and heard Marla silently cooing in her sleep, and then he saw that pack of Salems by his father’s other hand that rested contently on the table.
“Dad?” he asked and received no answer.
He quietly pulled out the chair and sat across from him, as he sat he noticed that his father didn’t even notice he was there. He was staring right through him.
The wind bellowed and howled outside, it rammed and fought against the house, sounding like it were going to lift it right off the ground and carry it far away.
It saddened him that his father didn’t even see him there, that he was so immersed in his own world that he stared right through him. He was upset but he understood, his father was going through a very rough patch.
As he got up to leave, he heard his Daddy cough, it sounded like he called his name at the same time.
Carl swung around and looked at him, he was leaning back in his chair, gently patting his knee. He saw the hurt in his father’s eyes, the worry, the longing just to know that everything was going to be okay. He shuddered and moved towards him, he crawled on his father’s lap and rested his head on his Daddy’s chest.
His father’s arms were strong and warm, and he liked it when his father would encircle his arms around him, he did this now and Carl felt upset, there was sadness in his father that was strong enough that he could feel.
His Daddy was worried.
© Kaitie Lutz, 2009
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Now to me, this has a lot of feeling to it, because I was standing in that little farmhouse with Carl and his Daddy and little sister, not in reality but in mind, heart, and soul.
and I love to RP! and I'm feel very inferior around all you amazing writers but I also feeled priviledged to be in your company............
