Stay with me while I string this together.

The most prominent memory I have of tapping into emotion with the intent of using it for my own purposes occurred in college. I had always played sports, and still remain as active and competitive as a husband and father of two allows me to be. Back when I was pursuing my degree, I played for the school’s rugby team. Teams loved to schedule matches against us because one, we weren’t very good and two, we threw the sickest parties afterwards.

Now in all my years of competing I always gave it everything I had, but I never actually got angry with the other players. They were giving their utmost. I was doing the same. The team or individual with the better coaching and talent won. That’s how I viewed sports. We’re not mortal enemies after all. Just kids on a field.

We’re not mortal enemies after all. Just kids on a field.

All save this one time. In this match, the captain of the other team took exception to something he perceived me to be doing. He told me as much over a beer in the drink up afterwards, one of the best things about rugby, but I digress…

During one of the great piles of humanity that so often occur in that sport, the captain thought that I was intentionally covering the ball so that it couldn’t be presented for play. Not only is this against the rules, but it is frowned upon as it could be construed as cheating while your teammates get into position.

In truth, even if I was covering it, I wasn’t doing so intentionally. I had been pinned down by another player who was lying on top of my legs, so I couldn’t get up even if I wanted to. Said captain, infuriated with my transgression, decided to help me up. He did so by placing a cleat on my face and repeatedly yanking on my left arm. Pinned as I was, the guy almost ripped my arm out of the socket. Eventually the ref blew the ball dead and called a penalty, whereby both teams had to separate across from one another by ten meters.

I’d never been so angry on a field of play before.

As I retreated to our lines, I looked across and who do you think picked up the ball? You got it. El Capitan. I made sure to line up right across from him. When the ref blew his whistle again and the captain started running, I took off at a dead sprint. Technically I was committing another penalty, as the team who made the transgression isn’t supposed to be allowed to move until the ball reaches them (at least from what I remember), but I didn’t care. I was heated.

When we collided it was like something out of the movies, or maybe a WWE ring. I buried my shoulder into his stomach with such force that I completely reversed his momentum and his heels flew up over his head. One of his cleats might have gone rocketing away, but I’m pretty sure that’s the old glory days filter taking my memory to Hollywood. We were getting killed that afternoon and had little to rally around the whole match, so my teammates and our crowd went crazy at the hit.

I couldn’t help but think, what if I had tapped into that raw emotion before?

In the moments afterward I remember saying to myself, holy sh**. My days of playing sports were quickly coming to a close and I had never laid anybody out that way. I couldn’t help but think, what if I had tapped into that raw emotion before? Could I have leveraged it to take my performance to a higher level? To paraphrase Deadpool 2, “there’s a hefty bucket of foreshadowing.” I’m getting there (I think), but I need you to stick with me a little bit longer.

I served in the military and deployed twice. Eighteen months after getting out and being home for good, signs and symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) started to take hold, most notably in the form of nightmares. For many reasons that I won’t get into here (that’s an entirely different post), it took me 12 months before I finally sought help for my PTSD. During that year however, I coped by writing. Or to be more exact, I recorded the nightmares on paper, as I wasn’t really creating anything. Just regurgitating what my mind inflicted on me.  

Since I wasn’t talking to anyone about these nightmares, the ramifications of them began to build up in very negative ways. I needed an outlet of some sort, a way to lessen the impact they were having. I started typing each one out, both the play-by-play and my emotional reactions to them. I began to realize that in doing so, I was expunging the hold they had on me. Some mornings, I would be so shaken that it would take everything I had just to keep myself together long enough to get the episode down on paper. After that, there was a noticeable deflation. I could get on with my day. At least as well as I could at that point in my life. My writing it down was the beginning of my catharsis.

My writing it down was the beginning of my catharsis.

I still have the word doc where they’re all kept. Except I won’t read them. Never again. Some of the more vivid ones, the ones that brought me to the brink, I don’t need to read anyway. They’re seared into my memory like a cattle brand. Then a funny thing happened.

Two years ago I learned of and attempted NaNoWriMo with a long time storyline I had stuffed away somewhere in the deep recesses where good idea fairies tempt you with new plots. When I started the manuscript I knew that I didn’t have enough for the 50k goal, but suddenly an idea struck me. I could incorporate those nightmares. Even beyond that, some of the other PTSD episodes that occurred in my waking hours.

Now the balance was shifting. With me committing these things to the page I was mastering them, not the other way around. I could bend them to my will.

Now the balance was shifting. With me committing these things to the page I was mastering them, not the other way around. I could bend them to my will. Change them as I saw fit to better the construct of my story. To give my character depth. To convey pure, raw emotion to the reader. Emotion as I had experienced it. In short, I could turn something horrible from my life into something positive through my writing. You know what?

It worked.

By tapping into that resource and utilizing that emotion, the way I had on the rugby field, I was now reaching a level in my writing I hadn’t previously achieved. The proof was in the feedback. People crying where they should be crying. Angry where they should be angry. Calling the character an a**hole when...you get the idea. Through it all I had built the story to a positive height. I had turned these things around. Changed the perspective. Their ability to do me harm had been greatly diminished.

In doing so, I had also turned a corner with my own healing. As I again expelled these events, I found that I was distancing their hold even further. I had relived them as I wrote, weathered the storm, and was able to now look back at them as the clouds faded into the distance. Sunny shores were ahead.

Will there be other squalls? Of course, but weathering the worst storm makes it much easier to face the ones that follow.

Now, this is not to say that you need to have experienced traumatic events to be an effective writer. Far from it. Please don’t go out seeking that stuff. I don’t have the insurance to cover any damages. What I am saying is that if you have experienced it, consider turning it in your favor through your craft. Both you and your writing might be better for it.

A word of warning however. You need to be in the right place, both mentally and emotionally, before you attempt it. When I wrote my NaNoWriMo story, things got rocky. I was a hot mess on many days and not pleasant to be around. I persevered because I was ready to, and I had the proper support systems behind me to do so. I suggest you have at least that much before pressing forward yourselves. And, for those of you wondering yes, I did hit the 50k. It has since become a 73k manuscript.

Now for everyone that hasn’t experienced what would be considered a traumatic event. Great. You don’t want that sh**. Trust me. You can still do this without having to deal with all of the side effects.

Let’s face it, everyone has had some awful experiences. Everyone has felt the emotions of loss and jubilation and pride and fury. You can tap into these just as much as anyone else can. Use those instances of real life emotion and sling them into your work in progress to heighten the senses of your characters and then by default, your reader.

In the end, maybe this path isn’t for you. Maybe you can convey everything you need to through research and imagination and word choice, and you don’t need to take this method acting approach. I’m just sharing what’s worked for me.

I’ve seen a dramatic improvement in all of my projects since I opened up to these experiences and turned them into something that I can use. Moreover, I’ve been able to offload them from my shoulders and live a better life. It would be remiss of me if I didn’t take this opportunity to tell you that you can do the same. If it is right for you, I hope you try. Whatever path you choose, I hope it works out for you friends.

I can’t wait to see what you come up with.

If you enjoyed this piece, please follow Tim Hendrickson on Twitter @TRHendrickson.