if the objective correlative doesn't fit ... you can't acquit
"The only way of expressing emotion in the form of art is by finding an "objective correlative"; in other words, a set of objects, a situation, a chain of events which shall be the formula for that particular emotion; such that, when the external facts, which must terminate in sensory experience, are given, the emotion is immediately evoked." - TS Eliot, "Hamlet and his Problems," in The Sacred Wood
There is no better example of objective correlative than the murder trial of novelist Michael Peterson. One man's life depended on a fire poker, a glass of wine, a missing bottle of cassis, blood spatter on a narrow staircase, credit card bills, and pornographic emails harvested from his computer. These items are not evidence simply because they exist. They are evidence because they tell a story. They "terminate in a sensory experience," and evoke a particular emotion. Though emotion is not the basis for a verdict, it is often the basis for interpretation of facts. If the accused says his wife fell down the stairs, but the blood spatter suggests a brutal beating, you have a problem. Can you reconcile his story with the horror of the blood?
We were soulmates the defendent said. I would never harm her.
But what does it mean when he refuses to purchase a headstone for his wife's grave? This was evidence the jury never heard, because it evoked too much emotion. It could bias the jury against him. And what about his footprint on her sweatpants? The blood spatter inside his shorts? His seeming lack of emotion? We were soulmates is like exposition. It explains. It tells instead of shows. Does Michael Peterson's exposition match the narrative revealed by the evidence? Are a missing headstone, a bloody footprint, and spattered walls the formula for anguish and grief?
You can learn a lot about writing from watching murder trials - the delicate balance between evidence and interpretation (for sometimes even calling something evidence is an act of interpretation), exposition and narrative. Witnesses can't interpret what they saw - they can only describe. Exposition is left up to the audience.
Unless, of course, they are expert witnesses. The forensic pathologist will list the bruises and cracked bones, as well as tell you how they got there (and the opposing side will rebut this with another expert, and another interpretation). Sound research practices will do the same thing for your essays and stories - supporting and complicating the narrative, calling evidence into question, making crucial connections.
Most importantly, though, you learn how to invite audience transaction. The jury must collaborate with the "facts" or "evidence" to create a narrative - murder or accident, premeditated or heat of passion? It is this narrative that determines innonence or guilt. Imagine your readers having this much invested in your work. Imagine them participating in the process, creating a story, determining meaning, and breaking a sweat just to do it. And unlike the jurors in a courtroom, relishing the experience. This is what good writing is all about.