About Writing, Part II – Emotion

Emotion is the Writer’s Stock-in-Trade

Most writers will never be asked in a job interview how well they convey or manipulate an audience’s emotion, but that’s exactly what a good writer does.  It may never get anyone a corporate writing gig, but it will make the difference when submitting to a major publication.

Once the writer has a handle on who the audience is, as covered in Part I of this series, the next step is to learn how the readers feel about the topic in question and to use it for greatest effect.  This is where true writing professionalism lies, because it requires using “the white space” to make the piece work.

What I call the “white space” is how the audience is likely to interpret the words based upon their approach to the article or story.  Luckily for us, writers are only responsible for the actual words we use and not how individuals construe them.  The English language is full of words that have multiple, and often broadly defined, meanings.  Using that spectrum of connotation responsibly is the essence of the art.  Truthfully, that’s what your clients really pay for, whether they appreciate it or not.

For example, I had to write a piece about an artist that my audience had widely divergent opinions about.  Some loved him; others questioned whether he was an artist at all.  My client had no interest in taking either side, so the writing had to discreetly reflect both opinions while not appearing to get involved.  Upon the first mention of the individual in question, I started the sentence with “Reputed artist John Doe … (not the real name).

The word “reputed” is deliciously vague and is more likely to be read in accordance with the reader’s predisposition.  Supporters of the artist will likely interpret it as “held in esteem.”  Detractors who question the artist’s credentials are prone to read the word as meaning, “held in popular belief to be reputable.”  Either way, my client is safe, and both audiences will favorably identify with the usage.

Note the transition in the use of pronouns in this passage about the carnage and expense in Iraq:

Using the Pentagon estimate of 19,429 militants and insurgents killed in Iraq, the cost-per-death is a whopping $154.4 million.  Even the most rabid war supporter will agree that’s a bit pricey for one dead enemy. 

 

The cost-per-death can be mitigated somewhat by including the estimate of 600,000 civilian deaths from the 2006 Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health Survey.  The Pentagon claimed the figure too high at the time, but since they make the argument for war as a cost-effective solution, the higher number only helps their case.  Admittedly, it undermines their concept of precision warfare by a multiple of 30,000 more non-combatants killed than combatants, but that’s not the matter presented here.

 

Factoring in the deaths of innocent men, women and children brings the cost-per-death down to $4.8 million, but that still seems a tad high to pay for one dead body.  The only way to make the number more palatable is to include those scarred for life.

 

There’s no reliable figure for the number of maimed Iraqis, but even with the very high assumption of another 619,429 wounded, the cost to American taxpayers for each mangled or lifeless human being is $2.4 million.  It seems unfathomable to pay so much for something so very ugly, but there it is.

The above excerpt starts out almost tongue-in-cheek, but by the end it’s a devastating reminder of war’s most tragic cost.  This is done effectively by using pronouns that are incrementally more compassionate and relatable to the reader’s own sense of humanity.  The passage transitions references to the dead and wounded from “enemy” to “human being.”

Writers who are doing product descriptions for widgets might not immediately see the importance of packing emotional content into their work, but the reality is that people make decisions based on emotion.  The writer who believes his or her audience is entirely logical and capable of making the right decision based upon the facts has never read Ann Coulter.  Her entire persona is based upon stirring up emotion, both positive and negative, because that’s her product.  Coulter isn’t in the fact business.

A writer who has done the research and knows how his primary and secondary audiences feel about a topic then must determine whether the objective is to reinforce or alter that emotional viewpoint.  It’s always easier to reinforce an existing thought process and add new dimensions to it.  This is because there is a neural connection in the brain that need only be stimulated further with new information.

When the situation requires either a complete reversal of thought or a significant modification, it must still be addressed from the existing belief system.  A direct assault on an audience’s beliefs will only result in resistance and avoidance.  Fortunately, a number of tools are available.

Satire is an excellent tool for changing the prevailing emotional paradigm.  Irish writer Jonathan Swift famously used satire in his essay, A Modest Proposal.  Swift proposed while writing from England that the way to solve the problem of Irish starvation was to allow the Irish to eat their children. 

In so doing, Swift utilized the predominant racism of English society to make an absolutely horrifying proposal that many didn’t realize was ridiculous and meant to be from the start.  He effectively awoke the English to the insidious nature of their own preconceptions about the Irish as being expendable.

Other tools include humor, comparison and contrast, induction, reframing and audience fragmentation to name a few.  People interested in these processes should consult the many good reference sources about rhetoric and persuasion.

Whichever approach is required, it’s imperative for the writer to use emotion as the most potent tool to get the reader to alter existing perceptions.  There’s no more effective asset in the trade, because it’s one of the strongest links among our memories and has the power to alter the thought process entirely.