The Writing Emotion series observes one emotion at a time in a story that does it well. This is so that we can understand better how to do our most important job as storytellers (no matter the genre): make readers feel.

The objective of these posts is less about learning to convey a specific emotion (joy, sorrow, anxiousness, etc.) and more about studying what is going on underneath a scene that makes the emotionality of it more compelling for the characters and the reader alike—

It’s about learning to write emotion.

Emotion: Indignation
Story: The Inheritance Games by Jennifer Lynn Barnes

Indignation: anger or annoyance provoked by what is perceived as unfair treatment

Passage from the story:

““Avery.” Principal Altman’s greeting was not what one would call warm. “Have a seat.”

I sat.

He folded his hands on the desk between us. “I assume you know why you’re here.”

Unless this was about the weekly poker game I’d been running in the parking lot to finance Harry’s breakfasts—and sometimes my own—I had no idea what I’d done to draw the administration’s attention. “Sorry,” I said, trying to sound sufficiently meek, “but I don’t.”

Principal Altman let me sit with my response for a moment, then presented me with a stapled packet of paper. “This is the physics test you took yesterday.”

“Okay,” I said. That wasn’t the response he was looking for, but it was all I had. For once, I’d actually studied. I couldn’t imagine I’d done badly enough to merit intervention.

“Mr. Yates graded the tests, Avery. Yours was the only perfect score.”

“Great,” I said, in a deliberate effort to keep myself from saying okay again.

“Not great, young lady. Mr. Yates intentionally creates exams that challenge the abilities of his students. In twenty years, he’s never given a perfect score. Do you see the problem?”

I couldn’t quite bite back my instinctive reply. “A teacher who designs tests most of his students can’t pass?”

[…]

“Are you a fan of calculated risks, Ms. Grambs?”

Like cheating? I couldn’t let myself get angrier. Instead, I pictured myself playing chess. I marked out the moves in my mind. Girls like me didn’t get to explode. “I didn’t cheat.” I said calmly. “I studied.”

I’d scraped together time—in other classes, between shifts, later at night than I should have stayed up. Knowing that Mr. Yates was infamous for giving impossible tests that made me want to redefine possible. For once, instead of seeing how close I could cut it, I’d wanted to see how far I could go.

And this was what I got for my effort, because girls like me didn’t ace impossible exams.

“I’ll take the test again,” I said, trying not to sound furious, or worse, wounded. “I’ll get the same grade again.”

“And what would you say if I told you that Mr. Yates had prepared a new exam? All new questions, every bit as difficult as the first.”

I didn’t even hesitate. “I’ll take it.”

“That can be arranged tomorrow during third period, but I have to warn you that this will go significantly better for you if—“

“Now.”

Mr. Altman stared at me. “Excuse me?”

Forget sounding meek. Forget being invisible. “I want to take the new exam right here, in your office, right now.””

Lesson 1: Set the theme

Avery’s story largely comes down to the theme of what is earned vs. what is given. She must grapple with the question: Is earning morally superior to being given?

Take a look at this paragraph:

“I’d scraped together time—in other classes, between shifts, later at night than I should have stayed up. Knowing that Mr. Yates was infamous for giving impossible tests that made me want to redefine possible. For once, instead of seeing how close I could cut it, I’d wanted to see how far I could go.”

This contrasts terrifically with the inciting incident in this book—when Avery is literally given a fortune after having done nothing to earn it.

Avery is indignant in this scene because she believes it is unfair that the score she worked for is being questioned. In her mind, she did earn it, and that makes it “wrong” for someone to be questioning the outcome.

But what does it really mean to earn something? At this point (at the very beginning of Avery’s story), she thinks she knows the answer to this question. She believes that “earning something” (which she thinks is the “right” way) means you work hard for an outcome, and then you have that outcome recognized by others.

But by the end of her story, all of these assumptions will have been turned upside down. She will confront people with different views and life experiences, and she will have to redefine her answers.

So, all this to say that this scene sets the theme of the story to come by posing an interesting question that the story’s events will attempt to argue.

A question that might seem like it has a straightforward, black-and-white answer, but is actually layered with nuance.

A question that Avery will have to ask herself over and over again as she learns more about herself, and the world around her, over the course of her character arc/journey.

This is a huge part of what makes storytelling so incredible.

Story implementation questions:

What philosophical question might encompass an overall theme in your story?
What does your protagonist think is the answer to this question at the beginning of their journey? How can they demonstrate this belief through action and conflict? (For example, demanding a retake there and then after a confrontation with the principal.)
How will their answer change by the end of their journey?

Lesson 2: Keep it proactive

I’m reading a story right now that I’m enjoying tremendously. Unfortunately, it took me a while to get to the point where I could sit back and enjoy.

The reason?

I didn’t feel like the protagonist was proactive enough. In the opening scenes of her story, everything was happening to her, while she just tried desperately to keep up.

The scene above provides a good example of the type of balance you can strike between something happening to your protagonist, while still keeping her in control of her own story.

Namely, you must show important, proactive, and interesting components of their personality that come through as a result of the thing happening to them.

Let me repeat that in a different way.

Choose an opening scene that highlights an interesting, unique, and proactive personality trait for your protagonist. Have them respond to the situation/conflict in the opening scene by leaning into this trait.

Is your protagonist feisty? Clever? Protective? Adventurous? Ambitious? Rebellious? Vengeful?

Show us.

In the book I’m reading, the opening scenes center around the protagonist committing murder after she is attacked.

Interesting, right? And yet, because her personality didn’t come through, I felt like something was missing. She was just trying to play catch up and reacting like any human would (with fear and instinct) in a situation of life or death.

But I don’t want to know how anyone might react; I want to know how this particular protagonist will react. Because the faster I get to know her inside and out, the faster I can relate, and therefore care about what happens to her.

Did you read that? it was important. This is the key to unlocking everything else in your story:

You have to make the reader care about what happens to your protagonist. And you can do this by giving us an immediate glimpse into who they are—uniquely.

In the passage above, Avery reacts with shock and indignation. Okay. Fairly typical for any human falsely accused of cheating.

But she also reacts with bold confidence. She instantly demands justice and redemption. Now that’s interesting.

Story implementation questions:

What personality trait makes your protagonist unique?
Specifically, what traits make them proactive, even if things are happening to them?
What is the most interesting thing about them?
How can you show this during our first introduction?
What emotion is your opening scene centering around, and what unique emotional trait does your protagonist embody that would complement this? (For example, we’re discussing indignation here, but Avery’s bold confidence gives this emotion more color.)

Lesson 3: Authority figures

Authority is an interesting concept to play with in storytelling. It has the ability to offer a lot of friction, conflict, intrigue, subverted expectations, and more.

One character might be terrified of authority. One might respect and admire it. One might be envious while another is resentful. Whatever it is, protagonists have an opportunity to jump off the page when put into contact with an authority figure.

In this passage, Barnes is not subverting expectations. Instead, she’s playing into typical stereotypes surrounding authority in order to boost the emotion of indignation.

The author instantly lets us know who Avery is as a character by sparking her unique flame when it comes into contact with authority.

It’s a quick and effective trick you might consider using if any scene in your own story is falling a bit flat.

Story implementation questions:

How does your protagonist feel about authority?
Is there a scene in your story where your protagonist comes into direct contact with an authority figure? Even better, with an authority figure that is behaving in a way your protagonist dislikes?
What emotion does this spark?
How can you show this emotion through both interiority (internal narration) and action?