Mourning a Tiny Terror: Goodbye, Tallyho!
Welcome to today’s podcast therapy session—sorry, I meant episode. Tim's got his hands full as LeeAnna mourns the late, great Tallyho, her fiercely loyal, pint-sized, stranger-hating furball. A dog with the soul of a vigilante and the bark of a dictator. Tallyho may have had the bite size of a mozzarella stick, but she was apparently packing the emotional weight of a Shakespearean tragedy. LeeAnna explains, “She loved me. She didn’t like men.”
The border collie comparison did come up, but let’s be real—what border collie could ever channel the chaotic energy of Tallyho’s wrath toward the male species? The discussion briefly considered replacing the dearly departed with a family-oriented dog, but why aim for loyalty and warmth when you had a perfectly unhinged lap-sized bodyguard?
Emotions, Emotions Everywhere—And Not a Drop of Consistency
So, what’s on today’s emotionally exhausting menu? Feelings. Oh, goody! LeeAnna admits she'd make for the kind of character that keeps writers reaching for their antacids. Emotional consistency? Never heard of it.
Tim, of course, is here with a model—“The Circle of Emotions.” Groundbreaking stuff: imagine feeling something other than mild irritation at the grocery store! But for Tim, the whole schtick is making emotions as unpredictable as a toddler in a sugar rush.
"Frequency, volume, and range" are the words of the day, folks. And, just like LeeAnna’s hypothetical character, sometimes that means switching from morose to ecstatic faster than you can say “Tallyho.”
Together, they critique stories that stagnate emotionally and praise those characters who burst into grumpiness over work calls and shift to bliss over spontaneous outings for wine. Emotional dynamism in writing, they agree, keeps things lively and lifelike.
Circular Logic: A “Circle of Emotions” That Makes Perfectly No Sense
Tim’s revolutionary “Circle of Emotions” goes beyond the typical stages of grief, you know, the ones taught in basic psych classes. Shock, sadness, loneliness, horror, tiredness—wait, tiredness? Sure, toss that in, why not? Confusion, panic, and good ol’ planning (Tim admits this one’s a stretch) are just a few highlights. Lines are drawn between each emotion, creating a diagram that essentially says, "Welcome to Life, Enjoy the Ride—or Don't."
The point? Emotions aren't linear. But while Tim grapples with his carefully constructed spaghetti-map of feelings, LeeAnna seems to have a simpler approach: just be a wildly unpredictable character and call it Tuesday.
Butter, Tears, and Emotional Turmoil in Aisle 3
Let’s take a detour into the riveting world of butter. Yes, you read that right. Jane, our hypothetical character, is standing in front of a row of butter tubs, drowning in melancholy. Tragic? Perhaps. Hilarious? Absolutely. Butter becomes the trigger for Jane’s trip down memory lane, leaving her emotionally paralyzed at the dairy section. Meanwhile, shoppers pass by, blissfully unaware that Jane's having an existential crisis because her late husband was a butter fiend.
LeeAnna ups the ante, as she does, by butter-shaming said husband. “Maybe he put too much butter on his biscuit?” screams the subtext of her scathing ghost-rant.
Italian Shaming, Snapped Spaghetti, and the War Over Ricotta Lasagna
The podcast takes another winding digression—this time, into LeeAnna’s memories of Italian neighbors whose emotional outbursts would terrify her, only for their loving reconciliations to shock her more. Tim defends Italians’ outward emotional displays, recounts tales of a lasagna crisis in his own kitchen, and offers up a cultural insult involving snapped spaghetti (because, naturally, we must tie emotions to culinary affronts). The exchange—chaotic and irreverent—demonstrates the unpredictability of emotions. It's all in good fun, until Tim recounts flying on an Italian airline and learning that Italians simply refuse bad food. His conclusion? Perhaps some nationalities (cough, English, cough) have lower standards.
“Rubber Ducky” Therapy and the Anatomy of a Character’s Emotional Mess
And finally, we arrive at Tim’s pièce de résistance: the “Rubber Ducky” scene in film writing. Every main character needs their traumatic backstory, ideally centered around a life-defining childhood moment—sometimes literally involving Mommy dearest taking away their beloved rubber ducky at bath time, but usually a symbolic gut punch. Flashbacks are wielded like hammers, with writers smashing the audience’s hearts to pieces.
Meanwhile, LeeAnna reflects on the emotional rollercoaster of her Italian neighbors—because why not?—proving that, in the end, we’re all just trying (and failing) to make sense of our emotional baggage. For some, it’s a circle of emotions; for others, it’s a spiraling mess best illustrated with butter. Whatever works, right?
27 Emotions and the Psychosocial Minefield of Awkward Characters
Finally, the hosts circle back to their real point: what emotions should writers explore? Tim lists emotions, teases LeeAnna over “disgust” and his hatred of cottage cheese (see: ricotta), and highlights complex emotional states like “emotional flooding” and “emotional mugging.” LeeAnna, always the champion of the nerdy and awkward, ties it back to quirky characters grappling with self-esteem. The podcast ends with advice to enrich characters with complex emotional tapestries—think rubber ducky flashbacks, wild emotional swings, and underlying causes that take readers on an unforgettable journey.
The Snark
Comments