How Do I Add Emotion To My Fiction?

April 13, 2020 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 2 Comments

Part of the power of deep point of view (I think) is diving deep into emotions in a way that’s both specific and unique to the character and universal to the reader. Some writers focus more on what’s happening than on what’s being felt. I fall into this category. I have to put the emotions in during edits. Here are the steps that have really helped me.

We’re continuing in our FAQ series on Deep POV. The question that came in was: “I’ve been told my novel is dry. Plenty of action, low on emotion. How do I add more emotion?”

These comments are hard to get from editors and beta readers, because you just want to throw up your hands (at least I do) – I DID add emotions. Perhaps this is partly personality based, I’m not one to openly express emotions in real life very often, so it just doesn’t come naturally to my writing. It’s something I’ve had to learn and compensate for. I’m more likely to restrict the emotion to the dialogue in a first draft — which isn’t nearly deep enough for readers.

What Is The Scene Goal?

Whether you’re a plotter or pantser, you reach a point where you have have to look at each chapter/scene as a whole and ask: what does my character want in this scene? What are they trying to accomplish?

Whatever your character’s story problem is – the big, takes-the-whole-story-to-solve problem, each chapter is your character’s next step in solving that problem. Have a clearly defined scene goal and know whether your character doesn’t get what they want or whether they get what they want, but they no longer want it.

Frank is notified he’s inherited $100,000 from his great aunt Martha, but the will stipulates he must be in L.A. by Friday morning for the will reading to collect his inheritance. Frank’s first step in solving his story problem is to get on a plane in New York for L.A, but his plane has mechanical issues and gets rerouted to Atlanta. He can’t get on a flight to L.A. til Friday noon.

Frank must now make a decision about what he’s going to do next to solve his story problem. Is Frank the kind of character who’s ruled by his emotions, uses his emotions to inform his actions, or does he completely suppress his emotions and rely entirely on logic?

However Frank uses his emotions, they are there and are very involved in what’s happening. The problem comes when we just write out the hassle Frank went through getting time off (and how he slammed a few drawers shut) or how he almost missed the flight in New York (and gave the cabbie the finger on his way out of the taxi). Those aren’t enough.

Human emotions serve a function. They are always trying to raise a concern, protect us, or tell us something. When you think of emotions that way, it’s easier (I find) to figure out what collection of emotions our characters would be feeling. To paraphrase Sigmund Freud, “I think this man is suffering from memories.”

Dialogue isn’t enough to convey emotion in fiction, it’s helpful but it’s not enough on its own. In deep pov, we want to write as though the reader is a fly on the wall inside our character’s head. So, we’re also using body posture, tone of voice, expressions, internal dialogue, and physiology to show emotions as well. Every decision has a WHY, and that WHY is either informed by, ruled by, or in denial of, an emotion.

Get really curious about what the character is risking, what they stand to lose, about why they can’t turn back.

What Is The Character’s WHY In That Scene?

You’ve built in a point of no return for your character, a reason they can’t can’t ever walk away from this story problem. There are stakes for Frank, stakes that mean he can’t just decide not to go to L.A. He has to get to great aunt Martha’s will reading or life is over for Frank because it means the uncle who sexually molested his sister will have to be there — and he’d made a promise at his sister’s grave to kill the man who caused her to commit suicide.

Get curious about the WHY. Now we know getting to great aunt Martha’s will reading is an external story problem, but it’s not Frank’s WHY. The will reading is the next step in solving his emotional problem – which is murdering his uncle. The emotional arc should have plot points that align with the external story problem, but they don’t have to be the same thing.

Why does Frank see murder as the only way to solve his emotional story problem? What does he think seeking revenge says about his character? What won’t he do in order to achieve his goal? What would a stronger man be able to do in the aftermath of his sister’s death? What does Frank think it says about him that he’s not that strong? Begin to turn the story problem over in your mind, what other ways can you look at why your character needs to see this done? Why can’t they fail?

Each obstacle between Frank and his external story goal (reaching L.A. by Friday morning), complicates Frank’s emotional story goal (murdering his uncle). Failure or success in achieving the external story goal must have emotional consequences.

Drill down in a specific and unique WHY for your character. Understanding what drives your character will help the reader identify with them and care.

What Emotions Are Involved In That Scene?

So, understanding the three things already discussed informs the emotions we can draw upon for any scene and character: the overall story goal, scene goal, and the WHY. Being specific about the emotions driving the decisions is important, it’s what helps readers lean in. This isn’t achieved by objective-sounding rationales, by descriptions of what hasn’t worked, or even narrative about what’s at stake.

Drill into the primary and secondary emotions at play and get specific. You won’t do this for every character, but for your main character you want to. Intimately understand why they’re making any decision. This is super hard for me. I have a book doctor (or sorts) who helps me dig deeper into the emotions of a scene because it just doesn’t come naturally to me. I can help others find it in their own work, but rarely in my own.

Frank is stuck in Atlanta and reaching L.A. by Friday morning is no longer assured. What emotions would be at play? Let’s get curious about this. Don’t just go with the first one that comes to mind, because in real life there would be a wide range of emotions at play, right. Rarely are things so cut and dry in life. I brainstorm as many emotions as I can, unearthing one or more with each new angle I approach the story and emotional problem from.

Maybe hearing about the will and piecing together that Frank’s uncle has to show up in L.A. reignites the grief over his sister? Maybe it reignites the shock of his sister’s suicide and how helpless and vulnerable and alone that left him feeling. Maybe he is reminded of how stupid he felt, that he never saw the signs of the abuse or of his sister’s depression — or maybe (in contrast) in hindsight he sees the signs of her distress and calls for help and brushed her off.

Those are primary emotions. What would be the thinking reactions to those primary emotions? That vulnerability, loss of control, helplessness, shock, grief, self-loathing, these are uncomfortable and unpleasant. What emotions would help him feel like he’s regained control of things, that will give him hope that he can DO something to change his current reality?

Shame might be one aspect of what he’s feeling fueled by the self-loathing that he never saw the signs of the abuse or depression. Anger is probably involved. Anger helps us feel like we’re back in control, particularly if we can deflect any blame off of ourselves onto someone else. Maybe he justifies the plan to murder his uncle because he’s saving other potential victims, because he sees it as an eye for an eye, maybe because in his thinking it redeems his earlier inaction and proves he does love his sister?

Maybe, Frank comes to realize the murder is about his own personal redemption and ultimately has little to do with his sister (emotional arc)? He’s still going to do everything he can to get to L.A. by Friday morning (external story problem), but maybe in the journey he thinks of another way to solve his emotional story problem? Maybe he meets someone along the way that causes him to question his murderous plans?

The emotions, serving their purpose, will become more insistent, louder, and harder to ignore or distract from as the story goes on. Scene by scene, the emotions fuel each of the character’s actions/decisions. You have to get curious about that and SHOW what emotions are behind the thoughts and actions taken, specifically and uniquely to that character. The tendency is to show the character angry, but not show why. For the character to state or think that they have to kill their uncle, but not get curious about the emotions giving heat and drive to that desire.

What’s your Deep POV question? Do you struggle with adding emotions into your fiction?

Been told you should learn Deep Point Of View? Had an editor or critique partner tell you to “go deeper” with the emotions in your fiction? Looking for a community of writers seeking to create emotional connections with readers? Check out the Free Resource Hub and then join the Going Deeper With Emotions In Fiction Facebook group.

How To Write Fear That Connects Emotionally With Readers

April 10, 2019 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 3 Comments

When writing in deep point of view, do your beta readers figuratively yawn at what are supposed to be your scariest scenes? Deep POV was supposed to create an emotional connection with readers, so why isn’t it working?

Fear is a universal emotion, so if you want fear to actually come across to readers, then you need to explore the root causes, make it individual, and keep surprising your readers.

Why Writing Fear Well Is So Hard

The problem is that as writers, fear is an emotion we’ve felt so often that we gloss over it. We’re neither going shallow (when writing in deep pov) to surprise readers, nor going deep to pull them in closer. Rather, many put a foot in both techniques which has the effect of glossing over, summarizing, or skimming over details. This strategy offers no surprise, no tension, no feelings for readers.

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Remember, as common as fear is to you, the writer, it’s equally common to readers.

“Listen to genre writers talk and you’d think that their stories are designed to evoke only one gigantic feeling, perhaps dread, terror, joy or love. While there’s nothing wrong with hoping readers will feel those things, mostly they do not. Why? Partly because those feelings are familiar and the scenarios that are suppposed to evoke them are humdrum…Just remember this: details. Details have the power of suggestion. Suggestion evokes feelings in readers, drawing them out rather than pounding them with emotional hammer blows.”
The Emotional Craft of Fiction, Donald Maass

Looking for help describing fear? Check out the entry on fear in The Emotion Thesaurus. Find a short description here.

Do You Know Why Your Character Is Scared Now And In This Place?

Because fear is universal, there are a wide range of gradients and intensities. Let’s look at a few:

Afraid. Anxious. Petrified. Shaken. Terrifed. Aghast. Panicked. Rattled. Frightened. Frozen. Upset. Shocked. Spooked. Daunted. Disheartened. Horrifed. Nervous. Intimidated. Timid. Apprehensive. Dread. Fearful. Uneasy. Troubled. Jumpy. Twitchy. Overwrought. Helplessness.

What causes apprehension in one person causes panic or terror in another. What’s the difference? Ask your character what are their stakes in this particular scene. What do they stand to lose, what are they risking, what’s on the line? Their answer could be anything from an irrational – there’s a spider in there to risking their identity or reputation, or maybe even a life-threatening circumstance.

Context is important. That scary biker with his leather and tattoos might have one person crossing the street to avoid, but the child he’s picking up from school runs to him with arms open wide.

If we see a lion in a zoo, separated from us by concrete trenches or fences, we take photos and comment on how cute or majestic they look. Put us on the Savannah nearing nightfall and we hear a lion’s roar, our assessment of the threat level will be significantly different.

**Side Note** My brother lived near a sketchy zoo for a few years (now closed) and they had a couple of male lions. Those lions could be heard roaring for a very long distance at night. It’s such a foreign sound in Canada. A black bear, wolf or coyote howl might give me shivers. That lion roar though, it reached deep into my gut and detonated. Felt like I’d been kicked in the chest. It was all I could do to stay in my chair and not run for the house.

Get to the root cause of the fear for your character. What past experiences (theirs or someone they know, something they’ve read or been taught) that’s informing or coloring their risk assessment of this scenario? In my Deep Point Of View Masterclass, a common comment I make is “I don’t know WHY they’re …” I can see the character is afraid, but are they afraid for themselves, for someone else, at the situation, or what the situation might mean? This level of specificity helps the reader identify with the character and cheer for them.

How Your Character Reacts To Fear Should Surprise And Inform Readers

Every character should react uniquely to fear because they should have their own perceptions of the threat, unique goals and motivations in any given scene or scenario, and personality quirks and predispositions that guide them towards one response over another in any given situation.

Fear is a primary emotion that triggers an autonomic reaction: fight, flight or freeze. Someone with elite military training should react differently to a surprise assailant than someone without that training. They will have a different threat assessement that someone who isn’t sure of their ability to defend themselves. Now, if that soldier has their child with them, their threat assessment will be different again. If the assailant strikes in a dark parking lot where help is far away, that soldier’s measured reaction might be different based on their perception of how far away help is.

Every situation and every character (their past experiences, their perceived threat assesment, and the context) should lead to unique reactions in every scene. If it doesn’t, either you’re skimming or summarizing the events (and likely the reader doesn’t know THE WHY), you don’t know your character well enough, or you’re recreating the same scenario over and over with little variation. All of these should be avoided.

Now, how a character responds to fear shows readers a great deal about what’s important to that character, what they prioritize, their strengths and weaknesses, their character, etc. The conflict between what a character feels and thinks vs what they DO and SAY can be full of rich subtext and understanding for readers. When trying to decide how your character should react to fear, ask them what would a better person do, what would a stronger person do, what would someone who doesn’t care do, what would someone who’s already angry do… etc. You get the idea, right. Be strategic!

Prime Your Readers For A Great Scare!

Ever had to prime something? When camping, we had this old camp stove that required one to pump up and down on a lever before trying to light the fuel to cook with. It was building up internal pressure and with fiction we do this either through anticipation or surprise (primarily).

The plot twist, the switcheroo, the SURPRISE! Think about how you could prime readers towards a particular emotion. Let’s say our main character is a 10yo boy who has a single mom, but she works a lot. She’s often angry and yells for no reason. He comes home from school and she’s throwing dishes in the kitchen so hard they smash. She’s cursing loud enough for the neighbors to hear. He sits down for dinner and she slams her chair into place and drops into her chair. He’s slow reaching for the potatoes so she shoves the bowl towards him. “Eat.” The kid hunches his shoulders, stares at his thighs, and breaks down in tears.

That kid was primed for a fear response, Mom didn’t have to do anything threatening for him to react to the fear his body had been denying. Mom might not understand why he’s crying. The kid may not know why he’s crying. But your reader will know and they will CARE about this kid.

Anticipation is a slow build-up to something scary you can see coming but dread all the same. Imagine walking home each day from work past your neighbor’s yard where a giant St. Bernard waits for you every day. That dog erupts at the sight of you on the sidewalk and barks and snarls predictably. Today, the St. Bernard gets loose.

You’ve played this scenario out in your mind. You’ve imagined this very worst-case-scenario and spring into action… Not scary, right. Anticipation only works if the character has no control. If your character has a plan to get out of the trouble, there’s no fear for the reader. They already know everything’s going to work out fine.

Instead, have your main character walking home, reading a book while they walk. They notice their neighbor’s teen out walking their giant St. Bernard. Your character is engrossed in what they’re reading and not paying close attention. And then the dog gets away from the owner and is headed straight for them snarling. No control. No plan. Just react.

What’s this character’s perception of the threat? Are they afraid of dogs? Are they afraid of big dogs? Do they have confidence that the dog will obey the teen? Do they have an escape at hand? Do they have prior training or skills that would help them navigate this situation? These are all questions that will color the hue of fear your character expresses to readers.

Who’s your favorite writer that really does fear well? Remember, every genre will include fear. Let me know in the comments!

Method Acting For Writers: Learn Deep Point Of View Using Emotional Layers

Advice From Jack Sparrow On Building Emotional Connections With Readers

March 6, 2019 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 7 Comments

Captain Jack Sparrow, love him or hate him, most people FEEL something for the irrascible pirate. What can Jack Sparrow teach us about creating emotional connections with readers? Lots. Savvy?

There are many posts out there on the interwebz for writers looking for advice on how to create emotional connections with readers, but let’s look at a character many many people love but may not be able to put a finger on why.

Jack Sparrow Is Relateable

When creating a character you want readers to connect with, give them traits that your reader might share. It’s hard to put yourself into a story, into someone’s shoes if you can’t see yourself in any of their character traits or decisions.

Jack is selfish and deceptive and he appears morally bankrupt, so why do we love him? He literally stumbles through life. But we love Jack because we have a lot of things in common with him. No, really – we do.

He prefers to talk his way out of trouble instead of using brute force, even though he has the sword skills to do great injury. He’s intelligent and witty and uses those strengths to his advantage. Jack is immeasurably creative.

“Did everyone see that? Because I will not be doing that again.”
Jack Sparrow

Jack is OK with ambiguity. Today’s enemy could be tomorrow’s ally. He’ll steal your rum one day and shake your hand the next. Jack’s morality tends to be situational, but isn’t that also true of our own society where little white lies, no harm no foul, and other such sayings are held as truth. A person might never steal a chocolate bar or clothing from a retail store, but they’ll pirate movies or music or ebooks without thought. The character who always chooses the moral right, who’s never dishonest or corruptible in any way, is hard to relate to.

Jack’s An Ethical Pirate

Your character needs to stand for something. They have to draw a line in the sand — this far and no farther. That line will look different for every character and that line doesn’t have to be one that readers necessarily would choose for themselves, but it’s one they can cheer for. Readers connect emotionally with characters who have a code of ethics they won’t violate–an ethic the reader can cheer for.

Jack is a complicated character and whether he’s good or bad is often up for interpretation. Certainly, he’s no moral paragon, but unlike many other pirates Jack does his best to uphold the Pirate’s code. Jack isn’t a pacifist, but he often steps in and tries to de-escalate an impending conflict (often for self-interested reasons) by suggesting a negotiation. When he does draw his sword, it’s in self-defence.

“Why fight when you can negotiate?”
Jack Sparrow

Let’s not forget that the reason Jack was branded a pirate was because instead of delivering a shipment of slaves, he set them free. Jack, in the end, often chooses the morally right thing to do at his own personal sacrifice, even if he’s doing it for selfish reasons. He rescued his friends from the Kraaken (and the Pearl), he walked away from the fountain of youth, and he helped break the curse of the The Flying Dutchman to free Will Turner.

“Not all treasure is silver and gold, mate.”
Jack Sparrow

Jack Is Always The Underdog

Readers love to cheer on the come-from-behind-kid, the one who succeeds against all odds, the David in a David-and-Goliath story, the nerd fighting against the schoolyard bully. When a character faces overwhelming odds, when they choose to step into a hard thing when they could walk away, readers get behind that. They want the character to win. But let me clear, the odds need to be overwhelming and preferably the stakes are life and death. I don’t mean only literal life and death stakes, but identity-ending, career-suicide, life-is-no-longer-worth-living kind of stakes.

In every movie, Jack has a goal–there’s something he wants. His motivations aren’t always obvious or clear, sometimes even to himself, but he presses on even though the odds of him succeeding are fairly remote (hello – finding the fountain of youth??).

“I’m dishonest, and a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest. Honestly, it’s the honest ones you want to watch out for because you can never predict when they’re going to do something incredibly…stupid.”
Jack Sparrow

Jack Teaches Us Things

Readers want entertainment AND they want an emotional journey. They want to immerse themselves in a fictive dream and become a character, live vicariously through them, for a short period of time. Fiction helps challenge people’s thinking and offers new perspectives and paths for readers in a non-threatening way. It’s OK if you only want to entertain with your writing, but it’s OK if you want to use if for more than entertainment too.

“If you choose to lock your heart away, you’ll lose it for certain.”
Jack Sparrow

Jack is a character a lot of people wish they could be more like (in certain ways). Jack is comfortable in his own skin, in the expression of his personality, and doesn’t care too much what other people think of him. He doesn’t take offense easily and doesn’t hold a grudge. He lives in the moment

Jack very much lives in the moment. He doesn’t concern himself with a five year plan or even where he’ll sleep that night. Jack embodies freedom. “Wherever we want to go, we’ll go. That’s what a ship is, you know. It’s not just a keel and hull and deck and sails–that’s what a ship needs. But what a ship is–what the Black Pearl really is–is freedom.” Jack has simple wants: to be a pirate and to be captain of the Black Pearl. Most of us, in some way, long for that kind of free-spirited freedom, ability to laugh at ourselves, own our eccentricities and quirks, and care less what people think of us.

Jack Surprises Us

Writing that has readers leaning in, afraid to put the book down because they have to know what happens next — that’s the goal, right? That’s my goal. The surprises have to be true to the character and the storyworld, often the surprise causes the main character even more trouble, but we cheer them on even harder.

Jack constantly surprises us. He’s funny. His wit and charm are disarming and the way he plays with the truth makes you feel like you’re inner circle sharing an inside joke. His antics, his flailings, his reliance on rum, it all adds up to entertainment and surprise. A joke isn’t funny if you already know the punchline, right. Sometimes his wit is full of great truth. Sometimes you have to repeat to yourself what he’s just said, and then it hits you — ooooh, that’s deep.

“You’ve stolen me and I’m here to take myself back.”
Jack Sparrow

“The problem is not the problem. The problem is your attitude about the problem. Understand me?”
Jack Sparrow

What do you love about Jack Sparrow? In what ways did you (or did you not) connect emotionally with Jack?

9 Tips For A Powerful Antagonist That Work For Any Genre

January 9, 2019 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 4 Comments

Your story needs a successful antagonist – one who wins a lot, who has odds overwhelmingly in their favor, moves the story ahead and directly challenges the protagonist’s story goal.

Without a powerful antagonist, your protagonist has nothing substantial to fight against—there’s little reason to cheer for them.

Ways to Make Your Antagonist Menacing

Backstory – Your antagonist needs a past and a history. Evil is grown not born. Even if it never comes out in the story, YOU need to know what made them like this.

Justified – Your antagonist is the hero of their own story and can rationally justify their thoughts and actions. Their actions and motivations are not random or nonsensical.

A Moral Code – Your antagonist can’t be completely bad all the time. Let them rescue kittens, love their moms, never break their word, whatever. Some antagonists have a moral framework they restrict themselves to—they only kidnap and murder men who abuse children, for instance. Anyone can fall in love, but who loves your antagonist? Is there something in your antagonist worth loving?

Heighten Tension –You know what Game of Thrones does really really well? There are some serious underdogs and overwhelming villains and antagonists. Here’s the key observation. The odds always remain in the favor of the bad guys and when it begins to tip the other way, a new antagonist emerges on the scene. The characters in the story rearrange themselves according to the actions of the antagonist.

You need a successful antagonist because if there’s no struggle, if the threat of loss for the main character isn’t imminent and devastating, there’s no underdog to cheer for.

The Inciting Incident Determines The Antagonist

Sometimes things can get really muddled in story land, and as the writer it’s hard to know exactly who or what is the main antagonist. Flip to the beginning of your story. What’s the inciting incident? Whatever problem is caused by the inciting incident is the main story problem and whatever is causing or in opposition to the main story problem is the antagonist—generally.

A man is marooned on a mountain in a snow storm. What’s his main story goal? If his main story goal is to survive and get off the mountain, the snow storm (nature) could be a valid antagonist. If his main story goal is to survive the storm, get off the mountain, and kill the person who left him stranded on the mountain, then the snow storm (nature) is merely an obstacle to his goal. Do you see the difference?

An antagonist actively works to prevent the protagonist from reaching their main story goal.

Antagonists vs Villains

The antagonist is the source of the opposing plot movement, and they get to win quite a bit right up until the end of your story. The antagonist is a role. The villain is any character who opposes your protagonist. (Consider Disney’s The Lion King. Scar is the antagonist and the hyenas Shenzi, Banzai, and Ed are villains. The hyenas oppose Simba but don’t move the plot ahead. Do you see the difference?)

In genres like romance, the hero/heroine can’t be the antagonist because the hero and the heroine must end up together (that’s a rule!). But, they are often at odds for most of the story. The antagonist is whatever person or force is keeping them apart. They will have to overcome obstacles, sometimes that obstacle is a villain, but the obstacles aren’t the antagonist. The antagonist must lose.

In Patricia Brigg’s novel Cry Wolf the main story problem is that Charles knows Anna is fated to be his mate, but she’s terrified of him. The antagonist is Anna’s fear, PTSD, anxiety, etc. However, there’s also a witch in the story – the witch isn’t keeping Charles and Anna apart, but she does present a story problem which Charles and Anna must work together to solve. The story problem is Anna’s fear of Charles, but the witch creates an ancillary story problem that presents an obstacle and serves as a plot device to force the hero and heroine to work together.

So, for the story to have a satisfying ending, Charles and Anna must defeat both the witch AND Anna’s fear. It’s important (read much much easier) for your character to fight a physical villain than themselves. It’s hard to portray that fight well. An ancillary villain provides the action and tension needed to represent the internal battle against the real antagonist.

The Case Of Dexter

Sometimes, the antagonist looks a lot like your protagonist. Take the example of television’s Dexter. Dexter is charming, holds down a job, was raised by a cop and lives his life by a strict moral code. However, Dexter kills people. He’s a serial killer. But Dexter is the protagonist – so how does that work?

Let’s dig a little deeper. At best, Dexter’s an anti-hero or even a villain protagonist — he can’t be both the protagonist and the antagonist.

We can get behind Dexter’s need for justice, his ability to act without caring what people think, his moral limits. But the antagonist in Dexter is actually his personality disorder – the psychopathy. The psychopathy is always just on the edge of winning out, of taking over, of silencing the (through voice overs) moral limits or obstacles Dexter places on himself.

The story obstacles in each episode would be the morals his father imposed on him and the laws and technology that might apprehend him from reaching his story goal (successfully murdering whoever he’s targeted).

Another example of this kind of antagonist construction is the film Flight with Denzel Washington. If serial killers aren’t your thing, Washington’s character’s main antagonist is alcoholism, but the investigation launched against him acts as an ancillary villain and story obstacles.

Who’s your favorite successful villain from movies, television, or books?

4 Tricks To Keeping Fight Scenes Authentic

October 17, 2018 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 1 Comment

You want to deliver the best punch possible to any action or fight scene because in deep point of view, the reader is IN THE ACTION so it better be believable. You need words that will pack a lot of meaning into them, show don’t tell, maintain a fast pace, move the story ahead, and deliver characterization – action scenes need to do a lot of work so don’t skip or skim over details that could make or break these pivotal scenes for readers!

In deep point of view, we (the writers) are not telling the story. We are writing it as though the story is happening in real time and coming directly from the character. Removing distance, telling, and filters helps, but ask yourself some key questions:

What does your MC see as the stakes of this action scene?
What won’t they do? What would be their instinct at first?
What would a better fighter do? Why don’t they do that? How does that make them feel?
How far would they go to survive? What principles won’t they sacrifice? Why?

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The fallout of these scenes can be very powerful, but the outcome feels fake if the battle to get there wasn’t bloody (physically or emotionally).

How To Put Your Reader In The Action With Action Scenes

Using Internal Dialogue To Enhance Action

Let’s dive a little deeper at the techniques and stylistic choices that add a punch to your action scenes in deep point of view. How much internal dialogue you use will be determined by your POVC’s (point of view character’s) personality, perceived threat level, and also the genre you’re writing in. Sword and sorcery novels will be expected to have less internal dialogue in action scenes than paranormal romance for instance.

Some genres prefer what I call thoughty characters and skim over the action details. The specificity is in the emotional chaos and trauma caused by the action scene. Other genres want to focus on the physicality of the fight scene and work through the emotions later.

Remember, in a life-or-death action sequence all you have time to do is react. Psychology tells us that the part of the brain responsible for survival—that fight, flight or freeze response, shuts down or slows functions that aren’t needed to survive. That’s why bladders release when people are scared. That’s why we have a hard time thinking or forming articulate sentences when we’re frightened or panicked. Everyone will have a different window of tolerance so what terrifies one person will cause barely a blip for another. If your character is or isn’t freaking out, make sure the reader knows THE WHY.

But not every action sequence is a life-or-death scenario. Be strategic in what you need that scene to accomplish story-wise. What are some of the stylistic choices you can make when writing an action scene?

Strategic Word Choice Brings Sound And Emotion To Action Scenes

Hit, punch, jerk, stab, strike, slice — these are all words that sound fast. Compare that with words like push, gouge, impale, run-through, pummel — these are all well-used words in action scenes too, but they don’t sound fast. It’s the hard-consonant sound that can get onomatopoeia working for you. That’s not to say don’t use words with longer soft consonant sounds, but it’s something to keep in mind.

Instead of having your POVC strike an opponent in the face, have them crack an eye socket. You don’t have to be graphic or gory if your genre doesn’t call for it, but if you’re able to describe with more precision what’s happening it’s easier for readers to picture.

She swung wildly with her knife.

She swung for his eyes with her knife.

One makes you wince and the other doesn’t quite engage you the same way, right.

Use action scenes to build characterization. Someone who’s a trained killer will know precisely what organs, joints, or bones they’re aiming for, what damage they’re aiming to create, and how debilitating that injury will be. The housewife assaulted as she’s getting into her van in a parking garage will be fighting for her life. She might not be able to use the same specificity as the trained assassin. It’s the difference between a sucker punch to the gut and one to the spleen. These strategic word choices show your reader a lot of things about your character—but be true to your character. If they couldn’t find their spleen with a map, they probably wouldn’t use that word, right.

Be strategic with your verb choices. I pointed out the sound value that can work for you, but verbs can also infuse either positive or negative emotion into each action sequence. Let the verbs do some of the emotional lifting so you don’t have to use internal dialogue to show those details as much. Trust your reader. Consider:

nudge vs punch vs wallop

These words hint at the nuance behind the intended force but also the emotion behind the blow. This is economic writing that packs a punch – pun intended lol

Prolonged Action Scenes Can Tire Readers

Most action scenes are short. You can’t maintain that breakneck pace without readers checking out just to breathe. If you’re writing a prolonged battle scene (whether it’s with fists, swords, or words) remember to give the reader a chance to breathe.

Move the fight to a new location – the argument moves to another room, another player enters the scene (the waitress brings the meal), you get the idea. This also gives you a chance to change or ratchet up the emotional tension in the scene.

Do Your Research When It Comes To The Physicality Of Action Scenes

Nothing will jerk your reader out of the story like something impossible. We’ve all seen the bad guys jump off a roof and walk away from that. *rolls eyes* Where we might turn to our partner or friend and comment about the lack of reality in a movie and keep watching, many readers will distance themselves from the story and never get back into the action again.

I am very blessed to have a sister-in-law who’s a critical care paramedic, and a friend who is training to be a competitive MMA fighter. I have bounced questions off of both of them to make sure I’ve gotten details correct.

A fight to the death should be dirty. Too many fight scenes employ these half-hearted, polite swings and head butts. If your life is on the line, you’re going to draw blood, break bones, there won’t be any holds barred.

A writing teacher rightly criticized one of my fight scenes between two trained soldiers as being too tame. These were two characters trained and experienced in killing people. One is overpowered and stops relying on fancy moves and is simply trying to survive. The critique rightly pointed out that character didn’t want to live, because a teen in prison with a make-shift shank would fight back harder than that. I undermined that character’s believability by pulling up short on the action scenes.

In your current WIP, how much experience does your POVC have with fighting? How would they handle a physical encounter with someone bigger and stronger than them? How would they rationalize a physical encounter with someone they overpower?

4 Steps Anyone Can Take To Avoid Writer Burnout

September 28, 2018 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 1 Comment

Writer burnout is a real thing and it’s absolutely devastating. How awful to have the time to do what you love to do, but not be able to bring yourself to the laptop to do it. Sometimes this is just a simple sign of procrastination or fatigue, but sometimes it’s a symptom of something bigger.

What does your work week look like?

There was a point in my life where I was working part time four days a week, 5 hours a morning. I had freelance clients that could account for 5 to 20 hours a week without any predictability. At the time I had three teenagers and my husband who all (legitimately) had demands on my time. The only time I could find to write for myself was late at night. I would begin about 9 or 10pm and write until 2-3am. I would go to bed for a few short hours, get the kids to school and me to work, and then come home after work and sleep until the kids got home and start all over.

That’s a classic recipe for burnout. And I couldn’t write for three months because of that insane schedule that put me much father behind than if I had just paced myself to begin with.

What Does Burnout Look Like?

Lack Of Motivation

That passion, that need to empty the creative reservoir, is gone. You can go for days without even opening your laptop or thinking about your story. You find a million other things to do instead like clean, take up a new/old hobby, whatever. Your first thought when you had a few spare minutes was to write and now you’re just not interested.

Lack Of Energy

Writing no longer gives you energy, it exhausts you. More than that, the idea of writing exhausts you. You’re tired all the time until you’re tired of being tired. This is also a sign of depression which can cause writer burnout or be a symptom of it.

Poor Memory

You used to be able to retain a million things in your head, and now you make a list and forget you made the list. Age can play a part in this, but you know what normal is for you. You just pause one day and realize that your memory of late has really sucked. Ask yourself why.

You Ignore Your Health

Maybe you’ve lost your appetite, or the opposite–you’re allowing yourself to indulge in things you wouldn’t otherwise. I’m not talking about a cheat night or a special occassion, but an indulgence that’s become a regular thing of late. This could include drinking more alcohol than you normally would, spending a whole day or weekend or week on the sofa bingewatching Netflix or BritBox. Maybe your exercise routine has completely gone out the window and you don’t even miss it?

Your Creativity Is Gone

When you do write, it feels contrived and forced. You hate what you write. You have to spend twice as long as normal to get the same wordcount. You begin to resent the deadlines you’ve set for yourself. Everything sucks. Why bother. You can’t think of anything to write about or where the story should go next and just thinking about it is exhausting and crushing.

Now, any of these things could be a symptom of poor planning on your part, outside circumstances spilling over into your writing space (like a new baby), depression, or poor self-esteem. But we all know what normal looks like for us and with burnout, it’s worse than whatever our normal is.

How Long Should We Spend Writing Every Day?

The only cure I’ve found helpful is to take a break. That could mean building time into your schedule to socialize or exercise. Force yourself to take regular breaks away from the laptop every two hours. Eat regularly and drink plenty of water. Get lots of rest.

Here’s the truth that many of us don’t like to acknowledge. Being creative is tiring. We may just be sitting in a chair and “thinking” but we’re expending emotional energy and you only have so much to give in a day.

According to Alex Pang, author of Rest, the answer to ‘How many hours a day should a knowledge worker work’ is four hours.

Yeah – that surprised me too. We can give 100% to our creative work for about four hours a day. After that, we’re forcing ourselves into exhaustion and you just can’t maintain that for any length of time without consequence. Burnout, in all honesty, is one of the lesser consequences. I have friends with serious health issues because they can’t step away from their creative work.

You Can Prevent Burnout

Cut Yourself Some Slack – Whatever goal you’ve set for yourself, continue to move towards it but not at the risk of your health or your family. You’ll get there. Maybe not as soon as you’d like, but when you get there you’ll actually have the energy to enjoy it. Pad your deadlines to allow for life to interrupt, for you to have an off day, to go for a hike or to the beach. Being a writer doesn’t mean you only write.

Take Care Of Yourself – It’s important to take care of our health and bodies. I know writers who write through chronic health issues and their strength amazes me, but they admit it’s really hard and exhausting. Writing is so much easier if you’re healthy. Get up and move around. There are health complications of a sedentary life. Many writers have back issues, repetitive strain issues with their hands or wrists or necks. I know others who struggle with blood pressure problems. If writing/working too much is the cause, that’s an easy fix.

Listen To Your Body – There’s a tired you can push through and there’s a tired you need to listen to and learning the difference is hard. I have learned what I can push through by just getting up and moving around, changing where I’m writing, remembering to eat, or working on a different project. But sometimes, after a three or four hour intensive writing session, my body needs rest and it’s important to listen to that. Your brain needs a rest too. If you are hitting a wall and just can’t think of how to solve a problem or where to take your story next, get out from behind the desk and go for a walk. Go catch a movie. Something where your brain can change gears for a bit.

Refill Your Creative Think Tank – Get out of the writing cave and experience some life. How do you write about life if you don’t live it! Go for a walk. Go for a hike with your dog or a friend. Go the beach. Visit that fair. Watch the movie. Don’t forget to continue to enjoy your other hobbies. When I shut down my laptop for the day, I’ll often sit in front of the TV with whatever knitting project I have on the go and just unplug. Be willing to leave the phone behind. Read a book. Watch a play.

Whatever relaxing and enjoying life looks like to you, go do that with people you love.

Learn to recognize the warning signs and take a break before your mind and body force you to. My crazy work schedule sent me into burnout and I couldn’t write for a year. A YEAR!! Now, I’m better at seeing the signs. I don’t ever want to go through that again, and I hope maybe this post can help you avoid that outcome too.

Dive Deep!

Have you had writer burnout or been close to it? What are some warning signs you’ve now learned to pay attention to?