There is something so freeing about being constrained. When you know that you simply cannot go beyond a certain point, it is easier to let yourself go and just enjoy yourself. Think about roller coasters where you spend half an hour securing your seat belts and safety bars for a five minute thrill ride. Once you are that secure it is easy to enjoy the adrenaline rush from plunging 100 feet straight down. Without the safety bar, the adrenaline will only fuel your fear. The same is true in the bedroom. A submissive knows that they can truly let go when they are bound. Then their body is taken care of and they only need to feel the sensations their Dom inflicts upon them. This of course only works when all the safety precautions are taken and respected.
We all know the phrase “It’s not what you said, it’s how you said it.” We have all known the sting of an insult born only in the tone of voice. Yet so few people understand what it is about the way that they say things that gets them in trouble. The same can be said about writing. Sometimes it’s not what you are writing about but how you are writing it that makes the difference between the reader getting it or not.
Everyone has heard the old adage that “actions speak louder than words” but how many of us have actually taken the time to dig into the meaning of that phrase? It’s something that it just feels like it’s right. Well, it is. Just looking at the literal meaning of the phrase you can imagine plenty of examples where it is literally true.
Let me introduce you to Sarah Bella [shelikesitverbal.com]. Sarah and I write together most Tuesdays – that is we sit at the same table in our favorite sandwich shop and make words happen. Recently we decided to ask each other “Where do those character come from?” Here is her answer.
So, umm, where do your characters come from?
Isn’t that the question that every author gets asked?
And the answer is simple. I dunno.
I know, we’re eloquent.
The truth is that my characters just ‘come to me’.
From a short short that is out looking for a home. Enjoy and wish it luck.
He got up and arranged himself at the top of the stairs to glare at Karen when she came in. She was perpetually early except to parties when she was precisely fifty three minutes late. She claimed that it ensured her entrance would have the greatest effect. He didn’t appreciate it now, effect or not. This was not a party to be crashed, this was his home. Come to think of it, he didn’t even know why she was here.
Some characters come to me fully formed with a story to tell. Others hang out for a while, watching and waiting, trying things on until finally they manage to introduce themselves. A few come into my life as a full person and hang around long enough to grow. These are the characters I love. They are my friends and the most likely reason that I will be mistaken for a schizophrenic (although I have it on good authority that as long as I know the characters are in my head I’m still as close to sane as I’ll ever be).
Everyone believes in something. Even Atheists. The problem arises when that something, isn’t the same thing as someone else’s something. Worse yet, when those two someones who believe in different things use the same words for them. Differences over the meaning of “god” have caused wars. There have been great upheavals when two powerful people have looked at the same ancient text and decided that it tells them radically different things about how to live.
And these are just examples from real life.
In fiction, you would think that we could come up with some truly spectacular stories about the differences between various sects. We probably could… but for the most part, we don’t.
We all do it. Most of us without thinking about it. We change the way that we speak based on who we are talking to. There are the obvious times – when talking to babies. Then there are the less obvious situations. You probably don’t realize that you use different vocabulary when talking to your boss than to your co-workers. And I know you don’t notice the subtle changes in grammar either. But they’re there.
Recently I was taking a walk with my dear friend E.P. Beaumont. We were walking along the river talking about our recent projects and Day Job frustrations when she paused to notice how green the trees were. It took me by surprise, not because I hadn’t noticed that the trees were green, but that it was worth mentioning. I had a similar response to my Great Aunt’s visit and her constant chatter about trees in the city.