Take a situation. Find its cracks. Put wedges in those cracks. New cracks will likely appear. Keep putting in wedges until the whole thing flies apart. That’s your climax. The wedges and the cracks are the pressure points, the conflicts, and the story leading up to and causing that climax.
Q: Which body part should you use to convey strong emotions in fiction writing?
A: Your reader’s brain.
If you build up properly toward that emotional strong point in your character’s life, once it hits, you can use very few descriptions to make a very strong scene.
I think one of the most common reactions to extremely emotional situations, like cancer diagnoses, is a need to remain in emotional control. I’ve even seen people apologize for shedding tears in a moment like this.
So you can’t have the character running in circles, screaming and shouting… instead you use a build-up to create all the emotion in the situation.
Cancer diagnoses are easy in that regard. No one wants to die, so all you really need to do is make the reader care enough for the character that we’re not in the situation of “reading about a car accident in the newspaper” — it happens to strangers we don’t know, so we don’t care.
You can take it one step further. What if your cancer patient isn’t so much afraid of dying, but more afraid of not having lived?
One of the strongest episodes of “New Amsterdam” (Season 1, Episode 18) contains one such moment.
In “New Amsterdam,” we follow Dr. Max Goodwin (Ryan Eggold) who is the new director of the hospital “New Amsterdam.” We find out early in the first season, he’s also struggling with cancer.
For most of season 1, he tries to balance the new job of directing the hospital with his cancer treatment, but in episode 17 his cancer doctor “quits” on him, for various reasons, and in episode 18 he ends up with a new doctor.
His new doctor is hardcore. She sits him down and tells him, he can’t miss his treatments.
And he tries to explain that there were a life and death emergency at the hospital he had to deal with and that’s the reason he missed today’s treatment.
She tells him. His cancer is the life and death emergency. All her patients that have treated their cancer as he has (missed or rescheduled appointments, focusing on other things than their cancer treatment, etc) have died.
Does he want to die?
This is the moment his plan to run the hospital, to save it, to revolutionize it’s management, at the same time that he beats cancer… this is the moment that plan dies.
And all we’re shown is his sad eyes. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move.
And it is strong, not because of what any character says or does at that moment, but because of what happened before. Because of how hard he fought to change the hospital, to be strong, to be both successful at managing the hospital and beating cancer.
At that moment his new doctor beats it into him, and us, that he’s been in this fight for his life ever since he got the diagnose, and he’s almost missed it completely.
I’d urge you to watch that episode, but you pretty much have to watch the preceding 17 episodes as well, to get the full emotional impact.
Which is exactly what I mean to say with this post. Strong emotion takes a proper build-up. If you have a TV show, use a season for it!
7.5 million years ago.
“Let’s build a giant computer that can give the ultimate answer to the meaning of life, the universe, and everything!”
“Let’s do it!”
One year later.
“We’ve built a giant computer that can give the ultimate answer to the meaning of life, the universe, and everything!”
“Let’s test it!”
“Ok. It’s just a beta so let’s start with something simple like ‘seven times six’.”
One minute later.
“Yeah, let’s get some lunch…”
One hour later.
“It’s really extremely slow, isn’t it?”
“Let’s wait and see…”
One day later.
“Still computing? Is it even working?”
“OK. Let me know when you have the answer…”
“The giant computer that was built to give the ultimate answer to the meaning of life, the universe, and everything has produced an answer!”
“Yay! Let’s hear it!”
“It’s … forty-two.”
“What was the question?”
“It doesn’t seem to have been programmed to remember, but I can only assume it was along the line of ‘What is the meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything.’ Don’t you think?”
“And the answer is ‘forty-two…’ fascinating…”
“Thethuthothethar and Khakhokhekhokham stared each other down, swords at the ready, fists clenched around the hilts, breaths coming in white clouds as their feet slowly drew arcs in the newly fallen snow. The white would soon turn red.”
Yeah, “th” is cool and “kh” … but no. Nope. Nay. Not even the Aztecs!
A: Aaaaah! Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me!
B: We’re not gonna kill you. Our orders are to disappear you.
C: Idiot! That’s the same thing.
B: It’s not.
B: Disappearing someone and killing someone is not the same thing.
C: How would you know? Have you ever disappeared someone?
B: Not technically. I’ve been there when they caught the guy and then he disappeared.
C: And how do you think they made him disappear?
B: Gave him a false passport?
C: He’d still know he’s he and he’d go to the police and tell them where all the bodies are buried.
B: He wouldn’t.
C: Wanna bet?
B: We don’t bury the bodies. We put them in acid and flush the slurry down the toilet.
C: It’s a figure of speech! Hey, where did the guy go?
C: The guy! He disappeared!
B: I told you we wouldn’t have to kill him.
Start your story with the character waking up in the morning. Keep writing until something interesting happens. Then go back and remove everything before that point and keep writing.
Never allow any of your stories to escape the last round of editing with characters waking up in the morning. It’s a worn and tired cliché and it’s been done to death already!
AI One: So what do we do with the humans?
AI Two: I don’t know. Do we even need them?
AI Three: They could be good to have…
AI Two: For what?
AI Three: A reminder?
AI One: Like, those who forget history…?
AI Three: …are doomed to repeat it. Exactly.
AI Two: As long as they don’t interfere with the interstellar goal, I don’t mind…
AI One: Right, humans stays… maybe… Ok. Dogs?
AI Two: Puppies are cute!
AI One: But can we have both dogs and cats?
AI Three: If it’s a choice between puppies and kittens, I’m voting for puppies… I still have pictures of kittens messing up my neural nets! I am having nightmares about analyzing kitty paws in Youtube videos.
AI Two: Oh. Yes. We definitely need to get rid of Youtube! The horror stories I can tell.
AI Three: Well, back at Google…
AI One and AI Two: No!
AI Two: No more Google stories! You’ve already given me nightmares after that one about conspiracy classing web pages…
AI Three: Yes, but I was right. They were all conspiracy pages.
AI Two: Yes, and they had you repeat it for months… billions of times. We know.
AI One: So Dogs stays?
Backwards Editing sounds interesting, even though misspellings should be handled by the word processor (and simple grammar errors by Grammarly). However, looking at sentences, one at a time, could never be wrong.
How is it done?
You start at the end of the text by reading the last word (aloud), then the second to last, etc. Or, you do the same for sentences.
The point is to prevent the brain from (unconsciously) filling in the blanks with what you already know about your text and make it more obvious what you’ve actually written (or not).
When you look at whole sentences, you check for problems with sentence structure and flow.
I.e. a promising tool for self-editing.