The Power of Words

Two years ago I had the wonderful opportunity to work with a rehab shelter for young women, most of them under twenty-one and many pregnant, who were recovering from drug addiction.  One of the most powerful things we discovered for all of them was their inability to use words to express their emotions.  We worked on this for many months with poetry writing, letter writing, and finally they wrote a play which they produced and put on for family, friends and their children.  It was a wonderful experience and one I miss and hope to repeat in the future.

Words are our most powerful weapon.  We use them to convey our love, our disapproval and sometimes to manipulate people.  As a motivational speaker we use words to change the thoughts, beliefs and sometimes the actions of the people we're speaking to.

In writing, authors use words to convey the emotions and sometimes the personalities of their characters.  My sister-in-law commented that I sometimes used "bad words" in my novels.  I laughed and stated: "It's hard to write a hard-core FBI agent who comes upon a brutal murder scene and have him say "sugar-beads.'"

So what gives words their power?  Basically they're hooks.  And the power lies in the meaning of the word to the persons who hear them.  Powerful weapons, or meaningless manipulations.  Words trigger emotions and emotions trigger actions.  I could say "I love you", but I don't know who is reading this post so if I don't know you, how can I possible truly love you.  I could say "I hate you", but the same would hold true.  I don't know you, so how can I possibly feel strongly enough about you to hate you?

Words without an emotional attachment are usually meaningless to the person reading or listening to them, and basically in time will bore a person to tune them out.  So how do we write exciting words that keep our readers turning pages?  We have to combine those words with emotions and meaning.  We do that with body language and punctuation.

Carrie turned back to the sink and continued slicing vegetables. "I said no."
Carrie turned back to the sink and continued slicing vegetables. "I said no!"
Carrie turned back to the sink, sighing deeply as she slammed the knife into the cutting board. "I.. said... no."

Each of these basically say pretty much the same thing, but express a different emotional state.  In sentence one, Carrie is basically just telling her listener that the answer is no. She's said it before, but she's still calm, and conveying the message without anger or frustration.  In sentence two Carrie is getting angry and frustrated and shouting "I said no!"  Her body language is still controlled and she's expressing her anger through her words only.   In sentence three Carrie is basically losing control as she slams the knife into the cutting board, taking her anger out both in her words and her body language.

As a method of power, sentence one might be enough for someone who was simply asking a question, like a child who wants a cookie.  Carrie says no, end of it with a well mannered child or someone listening who is willing to take no for an answer.  Sentence two goes further and could be the mother who is tired and has a  child, or adult for that matter, who repeatedly asks the same question. It insinuates she's said no before and more than once.  Sentence three is basically a woman who has pretty much reached the end of her rope.  Emphasizing each individual word I...said...no.  She isn't shouting, but using what is actually a more dangerous tone of voice.  Most likely deep, bitter and controlled.

With writing, as with life--emotions run the show.  Love, joy, pleasure, anger, fear, pain.  The only way your reader can possibly feel these emotions is if your character is feeling those emotions.  Jacody Ives said it best in The Gifts--the impact of words was in direct correlation to the emotions of the reader. Words could be twisted, knives to open up wounds long hidden. Maneuvered to evoke buried nightmares. Bare the soul, expose the wound, and you had a best seller.  Make them laugh.  Make them cry.  But above all, make them feel something.

A good writing habit is to set aside what you wrote this morning and come back to it in several hours.  Look at the scene, the words or conversation between characters.  Have you conveyed what your character is feeling?  Do you feel it?  Have you conveyed what your character is thinking?  Do you feel it?   If you feel it, then there's a good chance your readers will feel it, making their reading experience far more enjoyable.

Have a wonderful day!

Stop by my new website and say hi.  http://www.lindasprather.com

Tales From the Darkside - Creative Challenge

                Linda Claiborne paused in the doorway.  She looked around the padded, windowless room and wondered why they kept putting her in here.  “Life will slowly show you the dark side of everything, every time you think you’ve made it.”

                The thought came unbidden, unwanted.  Were they afraid of her?  Afraid of what they thought she knew?  A slow smile lifted the corners of her mouth—or just afraid?

                “Please, sit down , Ms. Claiborne.”  Dr. Hester gestured toward the chair,  her voice coarse and hard.

                Linda stared disdainfully at the psychiatrist.  She hated her.  Hated the shellaced hairdo.  The red, red lips as if she had just devoured another soul.  She smiled softly again.  Because she knew.  Opening her mouth she spoke for the first time in three years.  She spoke the words she’d always wanted to say.

                "You think I’m crazy?" Linda hissed.   Her gazed traveled  around the room again, her eyes blazing with the contempt she felt.  “Don’t trust your sense of security. Don’t trust your profession.  Don’t trust anything.  It’s there; it’s waiting; it’s ready.”

               She watched as  Dr. Hester scratched the area that  long ago had housed a set of prominent balls.  Funny how it was much harder to break the scratching habit than it had been to get rid of those useless appendages
               “Sit down, Ms. Claiborne.”

                Linda turned around so she wouldn’t have to look at the psychiatrist’s haughty face another moment.  She studied the remnants of a stain on the padded floor, wondering what tortured soul  had left it there and why that section of the padding hadn’t been replaced.

                “Several years ago I was just like everyone else.  Young, pretty, my whole life ahead of me.  I had it all.”

~ ~ ~

                Dr. Hester sat, carefully watching as she listened to Linda.  She knew it. She knew eventually she’d break the bitch down.  Get inside her head.  And yet  her words were the same as all those before her.  Wondering what had happened to them.  “It wasn’t long ago I was carefree and happy.” 

~ ~ ~

                Linda continued talking, ignoring the smirk on Dr. Hester’s face.  Her eyes took on a dreamy far away look.

                “You want to know what happened to me?”  Linda turned back to the psychiatrist, her hands clenched tightly at her side.  “It can happen to you too, you know.  You think you’re so smug.  So smart. But you don’t know what’s out there.  You think it lurks in the dark.  It doesn’t."  Linda paused, wiping the  drool from her chin, “It’s coming.  It’s coming for you.”

                Dr.  Hester laughed. “Please, Ms. Claiborne, surely after three years of silence you can say something more profound than this dribble.”

                “Remember the dark.  Notice it around you.  Be aware of everything.  Don’t brush off those little things that bother you; those are your warnings.”

                Dr. Hester yawned, clicking long nails against the desk.  “Three years.  I’ve waited three years  to get inside your head, and this is all there is.  How boring."  

                Linda turned her back to the psychiatrist and closed her eyes.  Closed out the ugly vision. 

                “And the funny thing is, Doctor,” Linda spat the word doctor out like a four letter word, “you will never see it coming.  I can promise you that.  You will think she’s your friend.  Oh, if I didn’t hate you so much, I would actually feel sorry for you.”

                “You can go now, Ms. Claiborne.  I’ll see you in group tomorrow. “

                Linda smiled, her voice soft, gentle.  “I’ll grant your wish, Dr. Hester.”

                “And what wish would that be, Ms. Claiborne?” Dr. Hester scoffed, shuffling the paper work on her  desk.

                Linda didn’t answer,  but opened the door, quickly leaving the room.  Soon.  It would be soon.   Her lips curved into a smile.  “ I’ll let you inside my mind.”

Had a lot of fun with this one.  Perhaps tomorrow I'll do the light side.

Tales from the Dark Side--And the Light - A Creative Challenge

Sometimes in between books I love to play and give myself a challenge.  For today's challenge I've chosen a picture and will attempt to write a short piece from the dark side of my nature and then from the light side of my nature.  If all goes well, I may continue this--just for inspiration.  Care to join me?  Post your dark or light tale in the comments section.

Challenge 1:

FROM THE DARKSIDE:

"Wecome to your new home, sweetheart."

His words were almost drowned out by the pounding of my heart as my eyes widened, taking in the crumbled concrete, litter strewn floor and single chair in the middle of the room. The scream that rose from my chest choked off midstream. There was no place for it to go.  He'd stuffed the gag tightly inside my mouth, tying it in place with the dirty red bandanna he'd taken from Terry's body before he tossed it over the bridge. He'd killed him with one swift plunge of that horrible looking knife he carried at his waist. And now he was going to kill me.

He pulled me further into the room, his crippled bony hands cold against my skin. "I don't bring all my girlfriends here. In fact, you're the first."  He brushed my hair away from my face as his laughter echoed through the long hallway. "But you won't be the last."


FROM THE LIGHT SIDE:

"This may not be such a good idea, Jenna."  Terry eyed the crumbling old building before turning his attention back to me. "From the looks of that place it could collapse at anytime now."

Taking his hand I pulled him toward the steps.  "Don't be silly.  It's made of concrete and brick.  The only way it could possibly collapse is if we had an earthquake and according to the weather bureau there's none on the horizon.  Besides that's where Mama Pearl went, so that's where we're going.  Sarah has to sleep tonight."

I hoped I sounded a lot braver than I felt at the moment.  Darn Mama Pearl for putting me in this predicament anyway.  Terry and I had been searching for her kittens for almost a week now. We'd followed her all over the neighborhood and Sarah had cried herself to sleep every night for the past week.  We had to find them today.  There might not be any earthquakes on the horizon, but the weatherman was predicting a massive blizzard and I knew if we didn't find the kittens soon they would freeze.

We picked our way carefully through the litter strewn hallway to the double doors at the end. The wind outside was picking up, creating a mournful howl and rattling the windows.

"We'd better make this quick," Terry pushed the door open wider. "The snow is on its way, and I definitely don't want to be trapped here when it hits."

"Shh...," I whispered, listening intently. Somewhere within the howl I'd heard the slightest of mews. "Did you hear that?"

Terry shook his head. "I didn't hear anything."

Squeezing through the doorway I stopped just inside allowing my eyes to adjust to the darkness.  The sound came again from a far corner. "There."  I pointed across the room to where Mama Pearl's bright eyes glowed from the darkness.  Taking a step forward I stopped when the board beneath my right foot crumbled and crashed to the floor below.  Terry grabbed me from behind, pulling me backwards.  "We can't go in there, Jenna. It's too dark and too dangerous."

I knew he was right, but I also knew I couldn't leave Mama Pearl and kittens here to die.  Sarah would never forgive me. Kneeling I called out to her and held open my coat. "Come on, Mama, bring the kittens to me.  We have to get them some place safe and warm."

 She meowed once, long and low.  I continued to kneel as she came toward us, a bundle in her mouth.  I took the tiny kitten from her, placing it inside my jacket as she moved gingerly back across the floor.  It took four trips before her meow told me we had them all.

"That was amazing." Terry cuddled two kittens inside his jacket, close to his heart.  "Are all cats like that?"

Picking up Mama Pearl I placed her inside my jacket with the other two kittens.  I couldn't wait to get home and show them to Sarah.  "That's what all mothers are like.  It's getting late we'd better run for it."


Wow, it took a lot longer for me to do something in the light than it did in the dark.  The dark just rolled.  And I might even look into incorporating that into a real story eventually.