Emotion and empathy

Emotion and empathy are two vital ingredients that can really add to writing and to reader involvement. A scene written without the reader being truly embedded in a character's viewpoint, feeling what the character feels, can be distant and non-involving.

To show you what I mean, here's a scene from Blue Gold in two versions. The first has all the action and speech but misses the emotional reactions of the viewpoint character, Aweserre. In the second version of the same scene, I've put back Aweserre's emotions. I think it's more immediate as a result.


Version one - without emotion:

Sweat ran down Aweserre’s fingers and he slithered and almost fell.
The second passageway ran upwards at a steeper angle than the first passageway ran down. The slippery paving stones had grooves cut into them, yet even with these footholds it was a very tough climb.
And all the while that they climbed, the pounding somewhere above their heads continued relentlessly.
Up ahead, climbing one-handed, Ramose seemed to have a rhythm going. He moved smoothly, black muscles glistening in the torchlight.
'Amazing,' breathed Ramose suddenly. 'Truly amazing.'
The priest shot out of the end of the passage. Torchlight flickered on the roof of the passageway as Ramose apparently straightened.
'Give me light!' called Aweserre.
A black arm, slipping towards him like a shadow, caught him by the scruff of the neck and lifted him out. He was set carefully on his feet.
'Look at this, 'Serre.' Ignoring the sounds of hammering that drifted and echoed through the pyramid like the sound of an angry sea, Ramose lifted the torch.
Aweserre sucked in a long breath and stared. They were in a huge hall, the like of which he had never seen before and doubted that he ever would again. As long as one of the smaller wings of his own palace at Avaris, with a central passage broader than a man's outstretched arms and a superbly executed corbelled roof, the whole room was a marvel.
One by one, his men climbed out of the narrow passageway and straightened. No one spoke.
Aweserre began to run up the smooth rise of the chamber. It was not the space which drew him but the lights which were emerging from the narrow corridor at the far end of the long hall.
The two Pharaohs, Aweserre and Sekenenre, were about to meet each other face to face.


Version two - with emotion:

I'm going to be sick, thought Aweserre. Sweat ran down his fingers and he slithered and almost fell.
The second passageway ran upwards at a steeper angle than the first passageway ran down. The slippery paving stones had grooves cut into them, yet even with these footholds it was a very tough climb.
And all the while that they climbed, the pounding somewhere above their heads continued relentlessly.
Up ahead, climbing one-handed, Ramose seemed to have a rhythm going. He moved smoothly, surprisingly easily for a man of his size in such a narrow space, black muscles glistening in the torchlight.
He's enjoying himself, thought Aweserre, taking in another gulp of clammy air. He was jealous of the priest's urgency: he felt only fear.
'Amazing,' breathed Ramose suddenly. 'Truly amazing.'
Pausing as though in wonder and then going forward again, the priest shot out of the end of the passage. Torchlight flickered eerily on the roof of the passageway as Ramose apparently straightened.
'Give me light!' bawled Aweserre, clinging desperately to one of the grooves cut into the steep and slimy paving.
A black arm, slipping towards him like a shadow, caught him by the scruff of the neck and lifted him out. He was set carefully on his feet, as though he were some squalling toddler. Deeply humiliated, Aweserre forgot about being sick.
'Look at this, 'Serre.' Ignoring the sounds of hammering that drifted and echoed through the pyramid like the sound of an angry sea, Ramose lifted the torch.
Aweserre sucked in a long breath and stared. They were in a huge hall, the like of which he had never seen before and doubted that he ever would again. As long as one of the smaller wings of his own palace at Avaris, with a central passage broader than a man's outstretched arms and a superbly executed corbelled roof, the whole room was a marvel.
One by one, his men climbed out of the narrow passageway and straightened - And kept on raising their heads, tilting astonished faces farther and farther back. No one spoke.
Perhaps this is what it feels like to be born, thought Aweserre. First the darkness, the cramping walls of the mother's vagina and then release and space. Here too, the arching stones of the corbelled roof seemed to hold them in a loose embrace, no longer suffocating.
Lifted out of his fear in a rush, Aweserre began to run up the smooth rise of the chamber. It was not the space which drew him but the lights which were emerging from the narrow corridor at the far end of the long hall.
The two Pharaohs, Aweserre and Sekenenre, were about to meet each other face to face.

If you ever have a scene that doesn't seem to be 'working', then putting more emotion into it by way of the viewpoint character could be the answer.

Best wishes, Lindsay
http://lindsaysbookchat.blogspot.com