When my father spoke in a stern voice, which was most of the time, I cried. When my brothers tormented me, along came the tears. As time and years passed, I cried at heart-tugging books, movies, or real-life situations. I was a regular dripping faucet, and it was a problem!
It would take practice and much self-talk to control the tears, but I did it. I even learned to internalize the sad stories I read or heard about, and felt so deeply, I would ponder the story or situation at great length. What must it feel like to experience the following; a sick child, a cheating husband, a dying parent… As I wrote, these emotions breathed life into my characters, and became their emotions. Eventually, I learned to blend humor into the stories.
I still cry when I read, watch, or hear about a sad tale, but when I’m creating my own work, I give those characters humor to lighten the load of humanness that cloaks them.