I am sitting in a different coffee shop this morning¸ in Oregon, missing Sally, but happy to be with my co-writer, Rachel Hauck as we teach at the Oregon Christian Writer’s Conference this week.

My flight over reminded me of meeting that occurred a few years ago. I was sitting in the O’Hare Airport when a woman walked into the gate area. She was in her early twenties, and carried a backpack, which she held with a whitened fist. She sat down and began to fidget in her seat, checking her watch, looking at the gate, pawing through her bag. She pulled out a book, and clutched it to her chest a moment before opening it, and pulling out a highlighter.

The books said, in large black ominous letters – How to get over your fear of flying.

Periodically, she wiped her hands on her jeans, and blew out a long breath, as if she’d been holding it.

About five minutes before we began to board, she called home. I know because she spoke into her cell phone loud enough to be heard all the way over in Detroit. Dad, I’m getting on the flight now. “I’ll see you soon. Yeah, I’m so nervous, I can barely breathe, but I’ll be okay.” I could almost hear the pleading voice behind her words saying, “I hope I hope!”

I said a little prayer for her and got on the plane. I had a window seat.

Of course, she appeared not long afterwards. She had the aisle seat.

I decided to call her Darla. She unpacked her backpack, shoving the Fear of Flying book and the highlighter into her seat pocket, for easy access, and then shoved her backpack under the seat. She buckled her seatbelt, pulling it down tight. She gripped the arm rests and did what I considered early-labor breathing. A sweat dribbled down her brow.

She was starting to freak me out.

Then she looked over at me, opened one eyes and said, “I’m a little nervous.”

You think?

The short part of the story is that I ended up holding her hand during the take off of the flight, and if you want to hear the entire crazy tale, I often tell it at the Deep Thinker’s retreat. But this memory reminded me that I wanted to talk to Sally this week about the four layers of character emotions.

See a reader doesn’t want to be told what to think and feel. They want to discover the story along with the characters – embrace the lessons, experience the pain, and rejoice with the victories. The best stories are the ones that invite the reader into the emotional life of the characters, and make a reader invest so much that they can’t put the story down.

You do this by bringing your reader into the heart of the character step by step. I call them the four layers of emotions and over the next two days, I’m going to go over these in an extended. Next week, when Sally and I get together again, I’ll go over the Quick Skills for doing this.
The Four Layers of Writing Emotions

1. The first layer of writing emotions is simply that surface emotion – the name of the emotion. Let’s go back to Darla…she turned me and said: I’m a little nervous. She stated her emotion.

If I were to write this, it might look like:

She stood at the entrance to the gateway and fear gripped her.
She could not watch the children in the play ground without feeling sorrow.
Never had she know such happiness as when she saw her son walk off the airplane.

It’s a common technique – probably the most common and easy to write. Most people can connect with these feelings and generally can relate to the character. But does it prompt a visceral response? Probably NOT. Because we’re just accessing that information level of the brain. We’re agreeing with that emotion, but not necessarily feeling it.

Naming the emotion is a tool to set a tone or for general description of a scene or character. We use this a lot for quick emotions, or perhaps an introductory statement to a paragraph about that emotion. It is the not the main emotion of the scene. It does not work to draw our readers into the heart of your character.

So, let’s go to the next layer:

Poor Darla said, “I’m so nervous I can barely breathe.” Yeah, that made everyone feel better. But through that admission, she connected a little more deeply with us.

2. This layer is called: Just Under the Skin Layer. This layer names the emotion and pairs it with a physical response.
Fear clogged her throat.
Dread prickled her skin.
Her heart twisted with sorrow.

Fear clogged her throat as she watched the policemen step onto the doorstep.
The door locks clicked. Dread prickled her skin.
She watched the woman gather her son into her arms, and her heart twisted with sorrow.

We understand what it might mean for fear to clog our throats. Putting a physical response to the emotion helps a reader apply their own physical response to the situation. Yes, I’ve been so afraid that I can barely speak. That’s what she must feel like. We’re now connecting on an informational and physical level. This technique is useful for helping the reader understand the state of mind of the character, putting them in a place of sympathy with the character. The reader can relate, even remember when they have been in a similar place, but it doesn’t cause their own physical response.

And we’re trying to help them actually feel the emotions with the character.

Stop back tomorrow as we take the reader deeper!

Have a great writing day! I’m off to teach!
Susie May