40862, Loose Daddy. Time. There is chronological time, the ticking of the clock from one minute to the next, one hour to the next, one day to the next, one year to the next, and there is psychological time, the weight of time passing, and there’s emotional time.
Emotional time, the time inside a moment, elastic or fluid or glacial. It can be slow like the moment when you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, or the microwave to ding, or fast like the fender bender in heavy traffic or a lightning strike. Emotional time is what counts in fiction, the heartbeat of story-telling. It’s the beats in a scene, the rhythm of dialogue, the close-up, the microscopic view of an exchange of perceptions between characters.
In a emotionally weighted scene time slows down. The moment crystallizes in the meeting of opposing characters, like an angry wife and a cheating husband or in Character A coming to a realization about Character B. Writing those moments makes me anxious. So much has to be conveyed. Words rush, and I’m afraid I’ve missed the target. Sometimes emotional time must be spun out and threaded through several scenes, then the knot occurs and the characters are inside the moment. I’m at such a moment between Tyrell and Keisha.
Read from Loose Daddy, Chapter 11 at writer’s group today. It went well.