We make life more complicated than it needs to be. In the most vibrant and optimistic time in human history, we live without hope. And I’m including myself in that “we.”

Last week, my Beloved and I celebrated our 19’th wedding anniversary. And you might think after 19 years, it’s getting a little old… and maybe in some ways, it is— comfortable, that is. And I’m good with that. I hated dating, hated life before marriage, never want to go back to that life. Because there is a lesson—if I had learned it from the start—that would have made those years a little more bearable, a lesson that finally allowed me to meet and marry Margaret, my wife.

Unfortunately, I’m still learning that lesson, even though I wrote about it in Love through the Eyes of an Idiot. That’s right: I don’t follow my own advice, even when it’s good advice, many years after I supposedly learned it.

I think my theme for this week is: life is getting better.

If you’re a Gilmore Girls fan, you might remember the episode after Rory and Dean had their affair, the one in which Dean’s wife Lindsay discovers Rory’s “heinous letter in Dean’s jacket.” Oy f***in’ vey! See, this is what happens when children grow up only on the outside.

And Rory and Lorelai, walking through the town common, almost run into Lindsay and her mother (whose name apparently is Theresa). At which point Theresa begins tearing into Rory, ignoring Lorelai’s urges to calm down, escalating her tone to the point of “You little monster!”

A friend of mine remarked today (in a private online forum), “Once you’ve walked in the shoes I walk in, live the life I live, and feel the pain I feel, then you can judge me.”

This is a common sentiment, which has inspired some powerful stories, and which inspired some involved thoughts of my own (at almost one in the morning). I gather that this anonymous quote has been floating around the Internet. There’s a lot stuffed into that single, pithy thought. I’m not sure I buy into all of it. So I felt compelled to write this short note, expounding what I think is an important truth.

Sharks are infamous for the feeding frenzy. They smell blood, and they lose control. All their instincts go on high alert. They turn into a finely tuned hunting machine, with one goal, to eat the kill.

Other animals, too, have their frenzies. The predator hunts, and the prey runs. Instinct tells them to panic, and that’s exactly what they do. The adrenaline pumps. The muscles engage. All of the creature’s strength and brain power directs itself toward one goal, whether to kill or to avoid being killed.

And humans are no different.

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.)