[suht-l-tee] noun, plural: sub·tle·ties delicacy or nicety of character or meaning. acuteness or penetration of mind; delicacy of discrimination. a fine-drawn distinction; refinement of reasoning: the subtleties of logic.
Did you know that offering someone your GREEN M&Ms is meant to hint at your hidden desire to get to know them better – or get with them, even? And, did you also know that the color of the flowers you hand someone also signify your inner thoughts, wants, feelings, and desires?
Of course you did. Everyone tends to know everything I’m completely in the dark about until it’s too late and doesn’t matter anymore. Well, not that it doesn’t matter anymore, but that when I’m trying to incorporate certain aspects of subtlety into my writing, I’d like it to be as significant and meaningful as … the color or hue in which it is being incorporated.
In other words, just because I’m instantly attracted to anything of the pastel variety when it comes to flowers doesn’t mean I can get away with using those types of colored flowers in my Romance novel. These colors actually mean something, and if the guy giving them or the girl receiving them isn’t in line with the color’s declaration, and because everyone is smarter than me and knows better, then it just isn’t going to work.
Kissing, too, and touch. Over the years and after having watched hundreds (yes, hundreds) of Asian movies and dramas, I began to see that these subtle variations are done to convey one feeling over another. Thinking about it over time, I started to realize how significant and useful these tidbits of vital information actually are for a writer like me.
According to the wisdom gods who write Asian drama: A kiss on the forehead: I care about you, A kiss on the cheek: I like you, A kiss on the lips: I love you, A kiss on the neck: I want you, A kiss on the hand: I respect you, and A kiss on the nose: affectionately yours. You’re cute and I’d like to protect you like a little sibling.
Even something as non-novel-incorporating as the background color I choose in Word so that I can write said novel (not black on white or white on black because both cause me severe eye strain) can have a strange affect on my own mood, which in turn would affect the story. Therefore, I disregard my inclination toward anything pink or purple or even red or yellow and always settle on a very pale shade of green. If I don’t do this, I’m likely to either become too hyped up (red) to sit still, too melancholy (blue) to write good prose, or too agitated (yellow) to think anything I’m writing is worth reading.
Luckier still, the room I write in is painted a pale, sea foam green, too. So, when trying to incorporate said wisdom into a story, it’s fun to learn these neat tricks to getting it accomplished, and in as subtle and refined a way possible. If you know of any meaning-behind-them facts and would like to share them, I’d be awful grateful if you would, and as always, appreciative of your help.