Do you remember when we all got mad at that politician? Yeah, I know, which one? We're always mad at politicians. This particular world leader got up everybody's noses by saying, 'I feel your pain,' on any and all occasions. The problem was, we suspected that he didn't feel our pain at all. At least the other guy didn't say it – the one who was outed for not knowing what a supermarket scanner was. Boy, was he out of touch with the rest of us.

Just like politicians, writers need to avoid that trap. The thing is, writers aren't merely compiling facts. Writers are telling stories. This is true, whether you're writing a weekly report, designing a school lesson on set theory, or telling a fictional yarn. The stories are everywhere. And to tell them, you've got to get inside the characters' heads. You've got to feel their pain.

The ability to understand what someone else is going through is called empathy. Empathy is the gift of 'feeling with'. You need a lot of that as a writer. As a reader, you can tell if there's a lack of empathy. The inappropriate joke, the arch comment, can kill the story you're reading.

How do you get this empathy thing? (As the scanner-ignorant politician might ask.) You've got to observe people. And you've got to stop judging them, at least long enough to figure out why they do what they do. This is a lot harder than it looks.

Ever do any people-watching? Say, in a crowded place, like a mall, coffee shop, or bus station? Do you make up stories about them in your head? Is that empathy?

In a word, no. You know why? The people you made up aren't anything like the people you're looking at. You're probably judging them. Oh, that woman's wearing a really ugly outfit. I'll bet she's a terror at home. I'll bet…' Yadda yadda. That's not empathy. It's imposing your vision on what you see. Try it like this.

First, remember what Sherlock says: you see, but you do not observe. Look for clues as to who the person is. Okay, that outfit's ugly. What else? Is it expensive-ugly, or cheap-ugly? Are her shoes better than her coat? What might that tell you about her finances? Now ask yourself: can I tell, from what she's wearing and carrying, whether she's married? Does she have kids at home? You'd be surprised what you might notice.

Now watch the body language. Is this lady in a hurry? Is she worried about something? Is she in a good mood? Is she carrying a newspaper, book, hand-held device? Can you guess what she might do for a living?

Is the person you're watching – unobtrusively, we hope – interacting with anyone? The coffee waitress? The ticket seller? Someone on the phone? How does she talk to them? Does she smile? Can you overhear? How much education does she have?

Okay. Now make up your story. But base it on the evidence, not your projection. That's empathy.

Far too many writers use the people around them as a canvas. They project the story onto them. These writers think they're being original. Amazingly, they’re not. Very often, their stories come out as horrendous clichés. Why? Because they've skipped the process of observation and deduction.

When you're gathering your data, practice empathy. It doesn't have to be in a bus station or coffee shop. It could be online. Or when you're watching the news, or reading a web story. Try to let the clues in. Let the characters around you speak to you. You'll write better for it.

Charles Dickens used to complain that his characters talked too much. He could hear them all the time, demanding to be put down on paper. He got so mad at one woman that he told her to shut up – in church. That must have made for an interesting Sunday.

Exercise

Your exercise for this week, should you choose to accept it: go trolling online. You do, anyway. Find an unusual story. Maybe the one about the diver whose camera was grabbed by the giant octopus. Or another one with 'human interest'. [Note to self: Everything has human interest.]

Now, watch the video or read the interview. Observe. Don't try to put yourself in the other person's place. If you do, you'll project your feelings onto the story. (If I were grabbed by a giant octopus, I might react in a different way from an experienced diver.) Just watch. Try to understand what motivated the person in the story. Don't put yourself in their place until you know what they did in their place.

Now, borrow that story. Write up a little vignette of your own. Don't report the story you just read. Improvise another one. But use what you learned in some way.

You know what a supermarket scanner does. But do you know what it was like to buy your meat and veg from a pushcart in San Juan, Puerto Rico, in 1937? Would you like to go back and try being the man in that photo? You might try studying the picture, or reading a book about the time. All the while, of course, exercising your empathy.

You can do it. I sense your willingness…and I feel your writer's pain…

Okay, I'll shut up now.

Writing Right with Dmitri Archive

Dmitri Gheorgheni

10.03.14 Front Page

Back Issue Page