I Heart You

Exercise Your InkTank
Against Sentiment

In some literary traditions, emotional effusiveness and a big emphasis on the essential goodness of humanity are celebrated. In ours, they’re largely considered schmaltz. Sentimentalism is viewed with suspicion (and often derision) because its objectives are tainted: It aspires to sway our tender hearts by aiming low. We resist sentimentalism because we’re sensitive people, who are protective of our soft parts; because our taste in literature is just more complex; and because we simply don’t want to be told how to feel. We having no trouble telling you why our stomachs turn and our eyes roll when yet another heart starts soaring like an eagle on the wings of love. The problem arises when we begin actively struggling against sentimentalism in our writing. It can create an acrid psychology that infects our storytelling and inhibits our treatment of emotionally intense moments.

The struggle against writing scenes like this:
As the sun tilted over the horizon like a heart spilling its love-light in the valley, he leaned to her and whispered in her tiny ear. “I always knew I would marry you,” he said. “But I wasn’t always sure you would have me.”
“Forever, Charlie,” she said. “Forever and ever and ever.”
“I know,” he said. “I know.”
They went into an embrace that assured all those who witnessed it that there would always be love in the world and it would always be there for the taking. The trick was knowing when to fight for it.

May result in scenes like this:
He moved his hand across the table, near hers but not touching.
“Charlie,” she said.
They looked at the sun on the wall.

The language in our first scene over-directs. It talks about emotional bigness without actually delivering. The language in the second scene is subtle to the point of opacity. It’s impossible for us to know what is passing between these characters. We can guess, but we can’t know. Frank Conroy used to say this: “Good narrative puts the reader and writer in a position of equality. The text forms a bridge between two imaginations.” As writers struggling against sentimentalism, how do we control the language of emotion without strangling it? How do we build bridges between imaginations? Let’s begin with a conversation about words.

I Heart Love Stories:
We’ll generate a list of effusive words and phrases that circle around one emotion: Love. As many as we can. Half of us will write a passage using as many of these words as possible. The other half will write a passage that communicates love without usually any of the words or expressions generally associated with that word. Then (as though we’ll have time!) we’ll share our work and talk about the differences we see between our passages. With any luck, the pitfalls of each approach will become abundantly clear and we’ll catch a glimpse of a way across to our readers.