When I was a kid, every Saturday evening was devoted to a takeaway and watching Blind Date at my nan’s house. This meant, choosing between a Chinese (A for 1, special fried rice and sweet and sour pork balls), or a chippy.

The chippy we frequented was in a town called Tilbury, which once featured in a programme titled ‘The worst places to live in Britain’. My sister and I always insisted on going with Dad to get the chippy, because that’s considered an adventure when you’re 7 and 9.

The takeaway was on the corner of the high street and had nifty parking next door in front of a betting shop. A Greek family ran it, and the man who always served us had a commanding stature and big thick moustache. Thinking about it now I’m sure all men had a moustache in 1989. Probably because of Tom Sellick in Magnum PI.

The door had one of those bells that rings when you open it. The place was small and sweaty. It had a counter running along 2/3rds of it, booth-style seating and blue and white tiled flooring. We’d head over to peruse the tasty delights being kept warm in the glass cabinet. My go-to was a beef and onion pie, which had floppy insipid pastry and contained approximately 1% beef.

We’d stand at the till and tell Stavros which artery-clogging items we were taking home, and that’s when I would see it—sitting on top of the bench, just at my eye-level.

It was one of those giant glass jars. You know the kind in movies when they discover a weird science lab, and they're lining the shelves, usually containing strange pieces of something you assume was human? One of those. But instead of a hand floating about in the water, this one was packed with pickled eggs. Boiled eggs in brine. And it was disgusting.

But I was fascinated. I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t imagine why anyone would pay 99p for one of those alien-looking-can’t-possibly-be-food eggs. But people did! Stavros used to put them in a small paper bag. An egg in a bag. Doesn’t feel right.

I’m sure you’re wondering the point of this egg-related tale. Well, it’s this. Those eggs made me feel. They stirred up emotion so strong that I can still vividly remember it 30-odd years later.

And that’s what we want to try and do when we write. We want our reader to feel. Because when you feel, you remember. And you want to be memorable, don’t you? Maybe just not in the same way as those pickled eggs.

5 less-obvious emotions you can use in your writing

Many marketing tactics (like Bro’ marketing) focus on using guilt, shame or FOMO. But I know you’re different and want to contribute good into the world.

I also know you’ll only use emotions in a way that doesn’t make a person feel discriminated or worthless.

Because this a vast subject and my pickled egg story took up a lot of your time, here’s five less-obvious (and when used correctly), less-harmful emotions you could aim for (with examples):

Empowered

“You have everything you need for your brand to have a powerful impact on the world we live in. We’re here to encourage you to ignite the power already within you to make the impact you want to make in your industry, for your clients and customers and for the world we live in.”

speakoutstudio.com.au/about

Inspired

We care about the means and the ends.

We care about the people.

We care about the environment.

And we care about generating wealth and resources...we just want to do it in a way that reduces harm instead of amplifying it with exploitative practices.

businessforthepeople.com/

Challenged

Change and equity for Aboriginal is possible. It is an outcome of compassionate and robust leadership that is prepared to challenge the notion of what is ‘good enough’.

Each day presents a new opportunity for us to stretch our individual and organisational mindset to achieve equity, and ensure Aboriginal people have an equal say in who does what and how things are done.

sourcenation.com.au/

Agitated

Two days after she informed her employer that she was pregnant with her first child, Joeli Brearley was sacked from her job by voicemail. She was four months pregnant and unemployed with bills to pay. Joeli considered taking legal action but then found out she was having a high-risk pregnancy and could go into labour at any moment.

pregnantthenscrewed.com/about-maternity-discrimination/

Solidarity (ok not technically an emotion)

That’s who we are. We’re the women.

We’re the women listening to women. We’re the women standing up for women. We’re the women working for women.

We’re the women supporting women in crisis.

wagec.org.au/about/

What emotions get you stirred up? Have you ever eaten a pickled egg? Let me know.

Photo by Natalie Rhea on Unsplash