Writer's Guide

Anger

Anger

Do you have a character who is Angry? See if the following lines inspire you...

Uncle Peter was composed, but I could feel the vibrations of anger radiating in waves from his body.

We locked eyes, a muscle worked in Frank's jaw. He said nothing.

A muscle worked in his jaw.

I gave him a don't-fuck-with-me look.

Her eyebrows were drawn low and menacing, and her mouth was held in a tight slash.

I was in the grip of a berserker rage.

His face was cranberry red

His face was Elmo red.

His face was tomato red.

His face was fire engine red.

I felt the muscles tense along my spine and made an effort to relax.

I could feel the tension in the room when he entered. Almost as if it had been etched on the walls.

A bright red flush was working its way up her neck to her chin.

Frank's lips pursed.

Frank gritted his teeth.

She gave me a black look.

"You went and wrecked my good disposition."

His face was tuned to the "not happy" channel.

Frank sucked in some air and stabbed a piece of meat so hard his fork clanked against his plate.

"Men don't get 'snippy'." said Frank. "Women get 'snippy'. Men get pissed."

Her face was flush, her hair was damp on her forehead, and her eyes darted feverishly around the room, daring anyone to knock the chip off her shoulder.

He was in the throes of unlimited rage and no soft words were going to pacify him.

I gave Frank my bitch look.

I gave him my PMS look. "You got a problem?"

Peter's channel was still tuned to "pissed".

If Jeannie had said "Jesus" one more time I was going to choke her until her tongue turned blue and popped out.

Color rose in his cheeks.

Peter claimed he was not angry, but his body language belied it.

Samber squinted and her lips puckered in mock anger.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

Unbridled rage.

His eyes were dilated black. If looks could kill, we'd all be dead.

If looks could kill, Jeannie would have been vaporized.

I squelched a groan.

"_____" she said tartly.

Mom stared down Jeannie with a palpable glare.

Uncle Peter's glare was palpable.

He took a malevolent step toward her, clenching and unclenching his fists, naked hatred seeping from every pore.

I fought down the anger that was bubbling inside of me.

Uncle Peter's shoulders were squared, his gaze determined.

She responded with a death glare.

A full minute passed in silence while I knew that Uncle Peter was talking deep breaths, doing his best not to freak the fuck out.