In answer to the many questions I've received on how to infuse more passion and emotion into your stories, here are a few thoughts on how to make it happen. You set the tone of your story by injecting passion and emotion as you see it, as you feel it. We all have emotional memory, and it is best illuminated through the power of imagination, when we recall the emotions we felt at the time an incident occurred. We each see people and actions in a special light - a light stemming uniquely from the very core of each of us. As a collector of stories, I revel in this light; it is this reflection of ourselves that ignites the radiant glow of colors making up the spectrum of our collective souls. The best way to write passion and emotion into your stories is to put yourself in your characters' shoes. In each particular circumstance, take yourself to that place where the character you're writing about is. With a little practice, you will learn to use your innate powers of imagination
Aha! We’re back to the power of words and how writing affects each of us. When we write stories, we stir memories, and to put those memories down on paper, we call on creative insight, which is triggered by a specific, scientifically traceable, kind of internal energy. When you to write short, true tales—bio-vignettes—about someone of significance in your life by finding the Aha! moment you will seize as the basis for your story, your creative instincts are jump started. It’s no wonder why, during one of my workshops, for instance, people move into a space of intense focus and high energy while writing their “Mother Memoirs,” as well as becoming completely tuned in to the work of other writers in the group. These power filled experiences come about as a direct result of finding and moving compelling memories to memoir. Let’s find that Aha! moment by walking through the labyrinth of our minds with this tried and true exercise: Tell yourself you are going on a
I don’t know a writer of memoir who feels empty while writing. They experience myriad feelings, but emptiness isn’t among them. They are engaged in the very personal, willful, and soulful act of creating a true story from memory, which is incongruent with the definition of emptiness. Lately, however, I see and hear the word empty all over the place. Empty has many meanings. Unfulfilled seems to cover a lot of ground, from empty emotions, empty pages, empty promises, empty pocket books, to empty buckets—buckets not filled with tears, since the river has gone dry. When one woman said she felt so drained and empty, life was so meaningless after experiencing a great personal loss, she had no tears left to cry, I was filled with compassion. After expressing my concern towards her and suggesting she could seek comfort by writing about her loss, she wrote me saying a renewal of her spirit had taken hold, in unanticipated ways, as she sensed emptiness diminish through the energy of her
Some time ago, as tears I thought had dried dissolved into curve of smile, I sprinkled my mother's ashes in my garden under the apricot tree, From which we made amazing jam for many years to come. Touch of cinnamon, of nutmeg, not too sweet... One spring no buds appeared on that pleasing tree. It was old, it died—as creatures do—tears then on gnarled branches. A simple stump remains, marking. Nice to touch, sensing. My mother winks at me, sometimes, from apricot jam on buttered toast.