Yikes. I'm working on a scene in the book that is emotionally charged like crazy. A man and a boy are discussing things they've lost, and finding some comfort in the voids in one another's lives. It's been an interesting look into the differences in the emotional states and dynamics of children and adults. Knowing what I know of myself, and what I know of my own daughter has helped figure out the right things to say.
One thing I've discovered is that the emotions of adults have more inertia than those of children. They don't swing as freely as the hyper-temporary, soup-bubble feelings of kids. Children can feel the most intense loss and the most profound joy before any adult can even begin to figure out what's going on in their own head. Adults' emotions are ships at sea; kids' are leaves in splashed puddles.
Writing about it makes me yearn for that emotional impermanence again. How great it would be to be able to pull oneself out of something dark so quickly, even considering that one could be right back down there in a blink.
I miss being young. I miss that ignorance, that ant-sized perspective.
Ugh. This is a difficult one, especially since I know where the scene is going.
Back to work.
One thing I've discovered is that the emotions of adults have more inertia than those of children. They don't swing as freely as the hyper-temporary, soup-bubble feelings of kids. Children can feel the most intense loss and the most profound joy before any adult can even begin to figure out what's going on in their own head. Adults' emotions are ships at sea; kids' are leaves in splashed puddles.
Writing about it makes me yearn for that emotional impermanence again. How great it would be to be able to pull oneself out of something dark so quickly, even considering that one could be right back down there in a blink.
I miss being young. I miss that ignorance, that ant-sized perspective.
Ugh. This is a difficult one, especially since I know where the scene is going.
Back to work.
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