"How do I write about emotion?"
Let's explore that, shall we?
I read a column a few days ago by one Rob Parnell about showing, not telling, particularly as applied to the writing of emotion. For example, stating "he was sad" is a very broad way of putting something. Writing something so open-ended and nonspecific is subject to authorial opinion on what constitutes "sadness." The reader's opinion of what sad is may differ, and so they may come away from the passage with a different impression of what has happened than the author intended.
For this challenge, please write for us a short passage about the emotion of your choice, with these limitations:
SADNESS/GRIEF: You may not use "tear(s)" or any variation of "cry."
HAPPINESS/JOY: You may not use any variation of "smile" or "laughter."
ANGER: You may not use any word that invokes the raising of a voice ("yell," "howl," "scream," etc).
JEALOUSY/DESIRE/LUST: You may not use any words expressing desire ("want," "wish," "crave," "long for," etc)
FEAR: You may not show or name the object or source of fear.
It's late and I know I've missed some a lot. If your desired emotion is not listed, PM or quote me and I will add it to the list.
Contest runs until midnight, 31st December 2012. Winners will be announced and prizes given out no later than 5th January 2013. If contest has fewer than four entrants, all entrants will receive third place prize. You are allowed unlimited entries, and I will judge them all, but only one can win (ie., if you enter three times, you can't win first, second, and third prizes).
First Place: 40,000 gold
Second Place: 20,000 gold
Third Place: 5,000 gold
AJ's non-entry on sadness because she felt like it below the cut.
"Val?" Solemon crossed his arms, looking more concerned than curious as Valerius returned to him, alone. "Val, you never said she was married."
Valerius studied the flagstones leading back into the fort. They clouded and swirled together, the world becoming infinitely sadder. "It was never relevant."
"Val—"
He broke. The reality of her world and the disconnect it had with his own slammed into him full force; his heart wore heavy with suppressed grief over her death and the soul-tearing anguish of what he now realized was two hundred years without her, two centuries he had spent watching from afar. She had gone to her grave without ever learning his name. All at once, he felt torment and agony, nauseatingly clear and piercing straight through his soul, as though every day full of loving and missing her familiar face had been squashed into this one moment, the moment in which it hit him that she was truly gone from his life.
Valerius collapsed onto the flagstones, shoulders shaking. Solemon said nothing, but left the room to drag in a pair of dusty wooden chairs. Solemon took a firm grip on Valerius's shoulders and pulled him up, guiding him into one of the chairs. Valerius's head sunk into his hands, his sleeves growing damp and cold in the musty corridor of the abandoned fort.
After several long moments, Solemon swallowed hard and spoke up. "You ok?"
Valerius said nothing. Solemon's voice was hoarse and shaky.
"Come on. We should go." Solemon stood up, Valerius reluctantly followed. "We've still got a lot of work to do."
