Writing the Sad Moment

When was the last time you cried? I mean – really cried? Do you cry easily? Or does it take a lot? And when you do cry, do you try to hide it from onlookers? Do you wipe away the tears angrily? Or do you fall apart with gut wrenching sobs? Do you weep quietly and in private? Are you one of those people who openly cries during a sad movie? Or are you a hider like me? Sneaking little dabs of the tissue?

How about the first time you saw one of your parents cry? Do you recall how deeply upsetting it was? Have you ever been smacked by one of your parents and felt your face grow hot for a moment and your eyes burn before the tears of humiliation trickle? Have you ever sat with your hand on a friends shoulder while they cried and cried and you felt totally helpless?

We all fall apart. It's part of being human. And if you haven't fallen apart in a long time, I would suggest you do something to let off some steam because the tears are there. Tears, someone once told me, are a mechanism for self-soothing. We need to cry. But how we fall apart depends on gender, culture, our upbringing and of course the situation at hand. If you have just been told your spouse has died in an accident, crying is not the first thing that’s going to happen. Shock is. The crying comes later.

People experiencing loss can cry for weeks and months intermittently. But usually, when a person cries, there is that moment or three as they struggle with it. We try to maintain control. We try to hold it in. We try to hang on to our dignity in the situation - a peculiarity to WASP and some European cultures. Crying is humiliating. It shows weakness.

In some Middle Eastern cultures crying loudly and publically - keening and wailing dramatically in fact - is not only appropriate when mourning loss, it is expected. It is a show of respect and grief for the person who has passed. In other cultures, crying is a mark of weakness. Does anybody remember that iconic ad campaign from the 1970's, in which a Native American Indian looks at a dump and a tear rolls down his craggy face? The ad was effective and moving and extremely memorable because a proud Indian Chief would NEVER cry. But here, as he views the devastation of his land, he does. For those of us in the I'd Like To Teach The World To Sing generation, we will never forget that ad.

My point is this: when writing a scene in which a character cries, dig down deep into your own experiences and into your character and write a crying moment that feels real – so real, in fact, that as we read the scene or watch it onscreen, we get a sympathy lump in our throats.

Crying is a tremendous release. It is us at our most vulnerable. It is us forgetting who we are or where we are. It is us just experiencing pure, raw emotion. Avoid the temptation to quickly write: He cries. She sobs. Tears stream down her face as she….

I cannot tell you how often I have seen crying or falling apart written with that little emotion. I honestly have never seen a person have tears just stream down their face without that having been preceded by a mighty powerful emotional moment. And remember – crying is messy. When we really cry, we heave our chests, our faces twist into a weird grimace, snot runs from our noses. It’s not pretty. I think sometimes writers go for the “tears stream down her face” as the easy, prettier way out. It’s very Claudette Colbert with Vaseline on the lens.

Dig deeper, summon your own experiences, and do not skip over a crying or falling apart moment so you can hurry up and get to the good part. Crying is one of the good parts. It’s cathartic for the character – and it’s cathartic for us. Don’t cheat us out of that.

If you enjoyed this post, follow me on Twitter or subscribe via RSS.