Emotionally Speaking

When I’m not sitting behind my keyboard, or helping my eight year old with vocabulary words, I most likely can be found in the operating room. Just like any of you, there are some things I enjoy about my job better than others. I chose nursing as a career for the same reason I want to be a writer. I love the emotional aspect of both professions. In nursing I love bonding with my patients in the preoperative area before I take them back to surgery. Most of the time my patients never remember who I am because they are sedated before they ever see me. It doesn’t matter to me that I’m usually never named on a patient survey as a nurse who delivered quality care. It’s rewarding enough to know that I reduced their anxiety before they drift off to sleep. A little gesture such as holding their hand, or telling them that I will be with them during the entire surgery is enough to alleviate a lot of the anxiety that they experience. I treat my patients the way I would want to be treated.

The same applies to my writing. I write what I like to read. I love books that include emotional scenes that grip the heart. I give the best of me to my readers. I love writing emotion and I want it to be evident in my writing. As writers we all deliver with pride, what we do best. It doesn’t matter if what we write well, is humor, suspense, erotica, or inspiration, we excel when we are in our element. In these moments the words flow, and you become one with the keyboard.

Movie directors use actors to create a scene that provokes the most emotion for viewers. With one touch, one expression, or one tear, they can tell the story without dialogue. As writers we don’t have the liberty of cinematography, but we do have the beauty of words. If we do our job well, we can produce just as much of an impact, and possibly more than a director on a movie set.

Even though I will never be a real movie director, in my world I direct my character’s actions on the page. I’m as happy as a pig in mud when I’m knee deep in emotion and angst. There’s something about creating a scene that can evoke emotion, and make your readers want to either throw the book across the room, or grab the nearest Kleenex. To me it gives the story substance, instead of a plain cheese pizza it’s like ordering a meaty supreme.

Here’s a slice of my pie…

He was everything in a man I didn’t need, but like a pair of designer shoes-he was addictive.

He took a step toward me and I totally expected him to kiss me, but he stopped a millimeter away from my lips.

“I’m not sleeping on the couch tonight. I want to keep an eye on the outside, in case you have a visitor.”

I nodded and willed him to step away before I made a fool of myself. I was tired of being strong. Tonight I needed his strength and he had more than enough to give. It didn’t matter if he was on the couch or in my bed.

I needed him.

I leaned forward and rested my forehead on his lips. His hands skimmed up my arms and into the hair at the base of my neck.

“You okay?” He asked.

I pulled away and looked into his steel blue eyes. “I’m good.”

He nodded, and walked away. He reached the door and turned to look at me. “Call me if there’s a problem.”

The door clicked shut behind him and I was alone. I didn’t know what scared me the most, the stalker getting to me, or starting to feel dependent on Maverick. I clicked off the lamp next to the couch, walked over to the window, and pulled the curtain back. I saw him slip inside his truck and flash his lights. I slowly stepped away from the window, and let the curtain trail through my fingers.

I swallowed the emotion lumped in my throat. For the first time in my life I felt vulnerable, and I didn’t like it. My life was compartmentalized and this was screwing with the system. I looked at the sheets tucked perfectly on the couch, topped with a pristine white pillow. I walked over and sat down, closed my eyes, and leaned my head back against the cushion. I inhaled and caught the clean, all male scent of Maverick on the sheets.

A tear slipped out of the corner of my eye, and I let it go.


Do you like writing or reading emotion the best? If you don’t like writing emotion, what do you feel you write well?