In early August, while the girls were at camp, I spent a lot of uninterrupted time with Tessie-cat. At almost-19 years, she’s even older (in cat years) than I am. I call her “my geriatric cat,” which is what she is. All she did for the whole week was to sit on the back on the couch, in her favorite spot, and sleep, taking brief breaks to eat or pee or poop or remind me that she depends on me for everything, including attention. After so many years, when it comes to our relationship, she’s really still just a kitten.

And during this time we had to spend together, a truth acutely implanted itself on my consciousness, that no relationship lasts forever, because all creatures die, for one reason or another, and probably far too soon. My relationship with Tessie, I thought, will eventually end as well, and probably not too many years hence.

A thought like that really puts in perspective how annoyed I get at her when she begs and begs and begs for attention, at the most inconvenient opportunities.

Monday is Rosh Hashanah, so no blogging then. (I don’t expect to be online.) However, I wanted to mention a brief but important thought before the holiday begins.

Rosh Hashanah, one of the major Jewish holidays, kicks off the 10 Days of Repentance (also called the Days of Awe). During this time, from Rosh Hashanah through Yom Kippur, one focuses on how he has been selfish and self-seeking, how he has hurt others, how he has manipulated and coerced in order to benefit at others’ expense. And he acts to seek forgiveness and to right these wrongs. We search our souls during this time, and on Yom Kippur lay them bare before God, because as Rabbi Hama ben Hanina taught, “Great is repentance, for it brings healing to the world.”

During this time of soul-introspection, I want to ask: What are you selling?

Back when I was but a teenager, working at the local Shaw’s Supermarket, I was promoted from bagging groceries, to ringing them up behind the cash register, to working behind the front desk. Shortly after this last promotion, I happened to have an argument with another of the employees who worked back there. I don’t remember what the fight was about, only that she yelled at me and made me feel like crap. Later on, she told me she wasn’t mad at me, but she believed it was better to let anger out rather than holding it in and letting it fester.

Uh huh.

At the time, I was way too young and naïve to know what to think about that.

More recently, I’ve wondered (and I’m probably not the only one): why do people write angry emails in response to blog posts? I mean, it doesn’t really accomplish anything. There will always be people online who say things you don’t agree with. And you can’t fix them all. So why would you want to go on record as an intolerable egomaniac? And in print, nonetheless! Then I wondered, maybe they do it for the same reason she yelled at me behind Shaw’s front desk: just to vent.

But I’m not sure that’s the best or healthiest approach.

The other day, my Little One and her friend were going over a story they were writing, when my ear caught a dialogue tag: “she shouted angrily.”

Naturally, I butted right in. And unfortunately, my advice was not taken to heart by my Little One’s friend, who, I gather, had originally written the line and who actually loved Twilight. On reflection, I probably should not have butted in, or else my advice might have been more welcome. Too bad a line like that rubs me so raw, so fast.

That was not just a random jab I just took at Twilight. Look at Twilight on Amazon, and search for “angrily” with the Search Inside This Book feature. You’ll see 8 matches, most of which ought to have been edited out, if either Stephanie Meyer or her editor had displayed competence. To compare, Talyn has 0 matches for “angrily,” and Hawkspar has but one, which itself might have been edited but at least is not in a direct-speech tag.

I explained to the girls that you should never say, “she shouted angrily.” Because you should avoid adverbs. Instead, use strong, meaningful verbs that show what you want to convey. Use a relatively strong verb that demonstrates her anger, rather than a relatively weak verb, shout, together with an adverb that attempts to append to what’s missing, almost as an afterthought. Dump as much meaning into the verb as you can. So for example, “she raged” is much better than “she shouted angrily.”

Better yet, make her sound angry and shouting in the words that she says and the way that she acts. Then you don’t need a speech tag at all. (Or you can just use “she said.”) Actions show; adverbs tell.

Then it occurred to me to consider: how exactly does one make a character sound angry? Which is the subject of this post. The process is pretty straightforward, actually.

To sum up from yesterday, a friend of mine posted on Facebook the “texting while driving” video, which contains an extreme, violently graphic depiction of a severe (maybe fatal) auto accident. My friend posted this with only one comment, that it’s “a short video that speaks volumes.” Not a word of warning regarding its nature or content. And I frankly beg to differ regarding how well it “speaks” and what it says.

For the full experience, however, click here for part 1.

Instead, I’m going to talk about a personally traumatic experience. Because I was one of the people today subjected to the “texting while driving” video that’s been making the rounds.

I say “subjected to,” because I had not heard of it before, and I received absolutely no warning of its extreme, violently graphic content. So I am giving you fair warning, if you haven’t seen it. But I also want to talk about the dangers of watching videos like this, and about the alternative. Because I’m so emotionally keyed-up, I might say something I’ll regret later. But I think I need to express a unique insight on this video, as a writer and storyteller. I’ll also connect it to a repeated trauma that I was forced to experience when I was in elementary school.

This essay is long enough that I’m splitting it up over 2 days. I’m scheduling the second part to be published about 24 hours after this one. (That’s Wednesday at 8 PM.)

And I promise not to name names. (At least not real names.)