Emotional Beats: Chairs, windows, and furniture

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chairs, Emotional Beats, emotions, feelings, furniture, windows, Writing

Back in September, I published Emotional Beats: How to Easily Convert your Writing into Palpable Feelings. As promised, I will be posting the book on my blog. So, here is the next installment, continuing Part 3 of the book: Other Beats. This one deals with:

Chairs, windows, and furniture

Emotional Beats | From the blog of Nicholas C. Rossis, author of science fiction, the Pearseus epic fantasy series and children's books

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He stood up. She sat down. I don’t know about you, but I’ve had a pretty hard time describing these two simple actions in a non-yawn-inducing way. Until I came across these:

He sank into his chair.
She rested her elbows on the table.
He shifted in his seat.
She slumped in the chair.
She shuffled in her seat to better sit upright and rubbed away the tears with the sleeve of her fleecy jacket.
I sat bolt upright in bed.
He pulled himself to his feet.
He raised himself to his feet, with a loud grunt that betrayed his age.
The boy jumped at his feet.
He raised himself to his feet, with a loud grunt that betrayed his age. His brow furrowed. The older you get, the louder the grunt, he reflected.
She lowered herself to the bench.
She sprung to her feet.
He leaned his chair onto its rear legs. … His chair fell forward onto all four legs.
She jolted upright.
She jumped to her feet.
She rose from her seat.
She stood on the cross legs of her stool to look over the bar.
The chair squeaked and strained under his heavy frame.
Loud scrapes and creaks echoed in the still room as he dragged the wooden chair on the floor.
The wooden chair creaked as she shifted her weight on her seat.
From behind the door, she heard the high-pitched screeching of chairs being shoved around on the tiled floor.
She pulled the string on the blinds, which closed with a loud swoosh.
The old wooden blinds clacked and clattered as she pulled the cord.
The cord made a zipping sound as she rolled up the blind, the cloth rustling with the sudden action.
The metal blinds rattled against the window.
He ripped open the blinds with a swish.
The cloth blinds made a pleasant ruffle as she lowered them.
She put her body down on a chair.
She approached the ancient rocking chair as if expecting it to skitter away like a scared cat; as if one wrong move and she’d never set eyes on it again. She offered it her back, settled her body gently against that smooth oak chair, got a feel for its perfect rhythm, the familiarity of creaking wood.