Emotions & Stories
I am fascinated by the way writers are able to tell their stories, from the beautiful backstory of the characters to the way they look at each other during a romantic scene to the atmosphere of the setting.
One thing that I admire most about talented writers is their ability to create a lasting scene in the readers’ mind, a scene that you can vividly picture in your mind that it is comparable or even better than the scene happening in real life.
This is of such an example:
“Then I felt something inside me break and music began to pour out into the quiet. My fingers danced; intricate and quick they spun something gossamer and tremulous into the circle of light our fire had made. The music moved like a spiderweb stirred by a gentle breath, it changed like a leaf twisting as it falls to the ground, and it felt like three years Waterside in Tarbean, with a hollowness inside you and hands that ached from the bitter cold.”
— The Name of the Wind, Patrick Rothfuss
When I read that, I can really picture the scene before me, the emotions that were running through the mind of the character, the atmosphere of his surroundings and the power that his music had. The ability to do that to a reader is a skill that is useful and powerful, a skill that is underrated in a fast and industrialised world today. It is a skill that can change moods; it can make a person smile, laugh and happy or it can make a person cry, crushed and contemplative.
I am currently into my 2nd Monthly Challenge and one of the challenge is that I have to write a mini story on Instagram every single day. Therefore, to improve my skills further in the art of creative writing, I have dedicated myself this month to writing a story based off of an emotion every single day. E.g. Sadness, Happiness, Joy, Anger.
This is something that I had written for yesterday’s post based on sadness:
He had done everything he could. He worked two jobs to provide for them, he fed them, clothed them and cleaned them. He spent whatever extra he had to buy them things that they wanted and never would he say no, all these while thinking that they were grateful.
However, when that door slammed, he knew that he had failed. A promise unkept.
To a mere passerby, he seemed to be seating there quietly staring into the horizon but if you have been observing him, you can see his face betraying him; a twitch of the nose, a wobble of the chin and the quivering of the lips… His calm and contained demeanor slowly breaking.
This is going to be fun.