Emotional Frontier—Drawing out Emotions in Your Writing

Donald Maas is a well-known name in the publishing industry—he is the founder and owner of the Donald Maass Literary Agency, and an author of many successful craft books, including The Emotional Craft of Fiction (2019). He also occasionally gives writing workshops, where he teaches writers the importance of the emotional plot and techniques on how to draw out emotions in their writing.

I participated in one such workshop this November, and it turned out to be invaluable both for my own writing and book coaching practice. After all, emotions in books are what grips us and doesn’t let go. The plot is only secondary—it is the emotional plot, the meaning and the emotional impact the external events have on the characters, that really reels the reader in and resonates long after they’ve read the book.

Without further ado, here are five things I learned from this workshop.

1. OPEN YOUR PROTAGONIST’S EMOTIONAL WORLD TO THE READER

Several months ago, I judged a writing contest. One of my tasks was to evaluate how gripping the opening 1500 words were—did they make me want to read on? Did I wish I could read toward the end? Reading dozens of different entries, it soon became clear there were two types of entries that stood out:

— those that made me feel;

— those that piqued my interest.

While I intuitively recognized this pattern, it was only when reading Donald Maass’ lesson one in this workshop, that it really sank in; it gave an explanation to something I only intuited.

When the reader opens your book, they’re giving you a benefit of the doubt, but it evaporates fast if you don’t deliver one of these two things. You either want your readers to connect with your character by detailing what this character wants and why they want it. What holds most meaning for them and why? The more you’re able to drill in on the deep desire your character has for *something,* more likely is your reader to latch onto your protagonist.

The other method of keeping the reader engaged is to pique their interest with something unusual, curious; something that’s unique, or something that causes your character alarm or concern.

In your opening, is there something your character wants? If so, why? Is that want specific to your character? How can you make it even more specific? Conversely, is there something unusual, unique going on in your opening pages? Is there an unexpected development? Does it stir your protagonist in an emotional way?

2. GETTING TO THE EMOTIONAL PLOT

You know how every story has an inciting incident on the external (plot) level?

The same goes for the emotional layer of the story; to kickstart the emotional journey of your protagonist, you have to have an inciting emotion. However, instead of positive emotions and positive internal goals, in many novels, motivations in novels are often negative and external (character not wanting a certain outcome; character going after an external goal). Stories that are rooted in negative and external motivation can have great narrative drive and make us want to turn the page, but will often fall flat on the emotional plane.

As Donald Maass says, “Motivation that comes through external circumstances (“I must do this because if I don’t…”) is never as strong or engaging as that which drives a protagonist from inside. Inner needs, dreams, yearning, hope, longing and love are what drive us in life. They’re also what give protagonists glue for readers.”

So what does your protagonist want—internally? Fulfillment? Recognition? Love? What is the source of their human quest? If the events of the novel (the external plot) were cancelled or undone, what is the one thing your protagonist would still want? This deep-seated human need is the source of your emotional plot—your inciting emotion. The whole emotional plot escalates, complicates and builds from this need/emotion.

3. PARADOX OF THE EMOTIONAL IMPACT

Everything in a novel is riddled with meaning, starting from the smallest things, like physical appearance and little character quirks, to what you show on the page (as opposed to what you leave out). The criterion you use to decide whether to show a certain scene/event/thread/plot development depends on its meaning for the protagonist and for the main story question.

In drawing maximum emotional impact out of our scenes, we can take one of two approaches:

• Drawing out maximum meaning from a small, seemingly inconsequential event

  Finding life-altering meaning in small things is something that takes the reader by surprise. The underplayed circumstances only highlight the intensity of the emotions.

  My favorite last sentence, one that left me reeling for hours, even days after I finished the book was from Lily King's Euphoria.

  It goes like this: “Caught in the holes of the button were tufts of the pale blue thread. I forced myself on to the next display. It was only a button. It was only a bit of thread. From a wrinkled blue dress I had once undone.”

  It is so seemingly unimportant and underplayed, that if you didn’t read the whole book, you’d have no idea how heart-rending this sentence really is. You wouldn’t be able to read its true meaning—it is everything. It is the meaning this blue dress holds for this character, the force of his emotions as he remembers having once undone those buttons, that will make your knees buckle. No crying. No tears. No clenched fists or chests, or sinking hearts. None of these could begin to match the true depth of the emotions of this particular character.

• Digging out a small, unexpected meaning in a major event (turning point)

  Have you noticed how the climactic events in novels can often leave you feeling unmoved? “Big events can be oddly disappointing,” Donald Maass says. “That’s sometimes because their meaning is too obvious. We know what we’re supposed to think or feel and so, paradoxically, we resist.”

  Imagine; the scene (the novel!) comes to a climax—lovers reunite, parents find their missing children, oppressed get their revenge or justice; there are chests swelling, hearts pumping, tears streaming, love over-pouring… yet you feel underwhelmed. Kind of ‘meh.’ After all, you expected this denouement, you expected this big proverbial explosion in the end, so seeing that explosion go off never quite feels enough.

  The antidote is finding a small, character-specific detail that will serve almost as a metaphor, an avatar of the emotion your protagonist is supposed to feel. For instance, a mother who just miscarried, clenching tight the outfit she had bought for her unborn child will have a greater impact on the reader than her doubling over in hysterical crying.

5. LISTEN TO WHAT YOUR CHARACTER HAS TO SAY

I’ll admit, Donald Maass’ fifth lesson seemed like a bad joke. The instruction was to sit down with our protagonist and ask them what they thought the story should be; what we—the authors—were imposing on them that they didn’t want; what they wanted to do in their stories but couldn’t; what they feared the most or wanted the most that we didn’t know about…

The logic behind it was that the writers often base their characters on their own personality traits and give them their own set of issues. Writers virtually make up a fictional person to go through an ordeal so that they (the writers) can learn second-hand about the issues that bother them. Dipping the toe without getting wet. This also often means that the writers aren’t letting their characters develop freely and on their own, thus blocking their emotional depth and often making them seem as one-dimensional, cardboard characters.

I felt beyond stupid, imagining myself talking to my protagonist. But, oddly enough, the answers surfaced right away—yes, I gave her many of my own struggles and traits, and I was trying to make her look good at all times. Or better said, I was trying to make the me-in-her look good. In that, I took away her flaws, but with them also her spunk and vigor. My protagonist ended up asking me for at least one redeeming bad quality. Seeing what had never surfaced in years of writing this book, as well as seeing the same happen for all the other participants in the workshop was nothing short of astonishing and mind-blowing. It became crystal-clear how we can revise to include this information to deepen our emotional plot.

Needless to say, Donald Maass’s book The Emotional Craft of Fiction is on its way to Croatia. I can’t wait to dig deeper!

***

I would love to hear your thoughts. Are you struggling to show emotions in your writing? Let me know in the comments!

If you’d like to receive more articles, news, and special offers in my book coaching business, please sign up for my NEWSLETTER (sign-up form in the website footer).