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9 Tips For A Powerful Antagonist That Work For Any Genre

January 9, 2019 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 3 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?

Make sure you check out my book Method Acting for Writers: Learn Deep Point Of View Using Emotional Layering.

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3 Red Flags For Author Intrusion In Deep Point Of View

December 4, 2018 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 1 Comment

Readers want an emotional experience or journey in addition to being entertained.

Many writers are looking for ways to create a deeper connection between readers and their main character. They want to create an emotional experience and deep point of view definitely can do that, but not if you undermine the feeling that readers are IN THE STORY instead of reading a story – if that makes sense.

A character’s thoughts tend to be the lifeblood of deep point of view. Internal dialogue helps to clarify the WHY for readers. Why is the MC behaving that way, reacting that way, saying that, etc. But writers switching to deep pov from non-deep point of view styles of writing struggle with too much telling in internal dialogue.

The Mindset Switch

Because we want readers to feel like they’re in the story with the MC (think of it like handing a reader a virtual reality headset or going through the story like it’s a first-person shooter game), we want readers to feel like they’re IN the story not being told a story.

If your story is a car and the MC is in the driver’s seat, the reader doesn’t want to sit in the stands and watch the race, sit in the backseat or ride shotgun. They want to be in the driver’s lap and see everything the driver sees, feel the vibrations in the wheel and feel the lurch with each gear shift. You break the fictive dream in deep point of view if the reader feels like they’re being told a story rather than living it vicariously through the MC.

So writing internal dialogue as though the reader is listening in comes across as author intrusion. Using internal dialogue to convey backstory or “explain” things to readers feels like author intrusion and breaks the fictive dream. You’ve just picked up your reader, taken them out of the story and plopped them right back in the theatre seats watching the story again.

Red Flag #1 – Author Intrusion In Internal Dialogue

Deep point of view is very personal so internal dialogue works best when it feels organic. Ask whether a character would really explain this to themselves if they already know it.

There’s Bob, Cindy’s fourth boyfriend this year, but what’s he done to his hair?

There’s Bob, was he Cindy’s third or fourth boyfriend this year… What’s he done to his hair?

The information that Bob is just one of many boyfriends is “told” in the first example. The second example feels more like the character is talking to themselves, not the reader. If the character already knows who Bob is, why would they explain who he is to themselves? That’s author intrusion — the information is there just for the reader.

If the reader needs some context or information (and you can’t deliver it through dialogue), you have to frame it in such a way that it feels organic to the moment and the character.

Red Flag #2 – Unneccesary Distance

Sentence construction using “when” or “and then” or “when this” and “then that” often leads either to author intrusion and telling OR adding unneccessary distance between the reader and the story. Does that mean you should never use those words? Of course not, but they are red flags.

I was three days into my one week vacation when the phone rang.

I walked down the street and then a dog bit my leg.I hugged myself to keep all the emotions inside when this was the last thing I should’ve done.

It’s narrator-like, isn’t it. Do you talk to yourself like this? The writer is inserting themselves into the story and forcing the reader back on the couch to read the story instead of experience it in real time. At best, it’s adding unneccessary distance for readers. If the reader needs info, it’s usually easier and more organic to have it come out via spoken dialogue.I

When Readers Need Information The POV Character Wouldn’t Say/Think Of Organically…

You’ll often find writers incorporating newbies characters or someone new to a profession or place because they stand in and ask the MC questions that the MC wouldn’t think to answer because they already know the info. Consider Watson and Sherlock Holmes. Watson asks the vital questions readers need the answers to in order to understand the story. But Sherlock wouldn’t volunteer that information, because he already knows the answers himself.

Watson asks the questions readers

Red Flag #3 – Quick Stepping Over Time

Bad: She didn’t remember driving home or climbing into bed and falling asleep.

Bad: She would wake up in the morning and regret the drinking, but right now she was having fun.

Good: She stumbled through the door and fell into bed. Had she closed the door? Who cares. She shut her eyes and gave in to sleep.

Good: She woke up and looked around. Where was she? Bits of memory floated into focus. Right… The bar. The drinking. So much drinking. But how did she get home?

Okay: She wrestled her way out of the car, keys jangling with each stumble, begged the lock to turn, and fell into bed.

In deep point of view, the rule is – the reader knows everything the POV character knows, sees, hears, feels, understands/intuits, remembers, etc. But that’s ALL they know. So, if the character doesn’t remember doing any of it then they can’t recall it for readers without breaking POV.

The character can wake up and realize they don’t remember getting there — in hindsight. What you can’t do, is skip over the action and have the POV character recall it to themselves in hindsight. Or comment on the past that hasn’t happened yet as if they’re looking back at a younger self. The action has to happen in real time (past or present tense doesn’t matter).

You could also use a shallower pov technique to show the character’s awareness of their own actions but that you’re just moving them from point a to point b so to speak. (Yes, if you’re doing it intentionally to create a specific effect or as a story-telling tool, telling or a shallow pov is allowed, but not a POV break.)

What aspect of keeping everything immediate, in real time, and tight POV’d do you struggle with when writing deep point of view?

Make sure you check out my book Method Acting for Writers: Learn Deep Point Of View Using Emotional Layering.

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How To Write Fear Authentically Even If You Don’t Write Thrillers

October 31, 2018 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 2 Comments

Want to scare your readers? SHOW them what your character is afraid of!

Your story needs life or death stakes (and not necessarily the murderous, knife-wielding, gravestone kind of life or death stakes). Fear and the body language of fear, should be topics every novelist strives to know better.

Fear can range from mild to paralyzing, but fear caused by a real, immediate threat is rarely paralyzing. Our bodies and minds instinctually engage in a race for survival. Usually the fears that can leave us paralyzed are imagined (what ifs).

Fun Fact 1: Chronic stress is in fact a low-intensity fear response to worry, daily insecurity, anxiety, etc.

4 Components Of Fear

Fear can be partly instinct, partly learned, partly taught, partly imagined. Imagined fears also come with stakes. Public speaking a common imagined fear, but what’s really at stake is reputation, identity, self-worth, etc.

Pain causes instinctive fear – survival instinct.
Falling is an instinctive fear present even in newborns.
Past experiences can create learned fears – a young child will learn to fear bunk beds if they had a friend fall out of one and seriously injure themselves.
Social context can teach fear of a particular person (avoid your uncle – don’t ever be alone with him) or various forms of racism.

Know What Your Character Is Afraid Of!

“Wendy? Darling? Light, of my life. I’m not gonna hurt ya. I’m just going to bash your brains in.”

Stephen King, The Shining

Always know WHY your character is afraid — what the stakes are. What unique blend of the five kinds of fear listed above is your character reacting to? What have they risked, put on the line, stuck their necks out for? What’s their worst case scenario? By answering the why and the what (why they’re afraid and what they risk losing), and layering in emotions well, you SHOW readers what your character is afraid of and now the reader can be afraid with them!

Remember, deep point of view puts the reader IN THE STORY with your character. It’s intimate, personal, visceral and immediate. Learn more about layering emotions here.

A character’s body language, tone of voice, internal dialogue, gestures, expressions, ticks – these are all the pieces of evidence you need to show fear to readers. Above all – tell the truth. Fiction is truth inside a lie, as Stephen King says.

Don’t just go through the motions on this. Really dig deep for these answers because showing the WHY and making the stakes clear is how you show the emotion. In deep point of view, we avoid naming emotions so you’ll have to show your reader the excitement or fear through body language, physiology, internal dialogue and spoken dialogue.

The Role Of Intuition

Humans have this wonderful gift of intuition. The problem is we don’t listen to it often enough. We perceive a threat (could have been body language, past experience, a friend’s experience, an article we read a year ago) but we discount that perception in favor of what we can see.

When you take that admitted predisposition and place a character in a situation that feels threatening but the feeling is ignored because they can’t see anything threatening — you ramp up the fear element for readers.

Gavin De Becker in his book The Gift of Fear talks about a woman waiting for an elevator. The doors open and inside is a young man in a suit who leers at her and bobs his eyebrows suggestively. Given the statistics about violence against women, her own past experiences and those of her friends, the isolated location, etc. she’s not crazy for perceiving this man as a possible threat. But rather than obey her intuition and wait for the next elevator, she’ll get into the sound-proof steel box because he looks OK.

“It is understandable that the perspectives of men and women on safety are so different – men and women live in different worlds…most men fear getting laughed at or humiliated by a romantic prospect while women fear rape and death.”
Gavin De Becker, The Gift Of Fear

Fun Fact 2: We allow ourselves to disregard our intuition if we can’t explain it logically. He doesn’t look like a rapist. She doesn’t look like a scam-artist.

A Fear Case Study

Your POVC is a teen girl who’s lost her phone at a bonfire social in the country and just realizes that her friends have all left without her. She has no way to get home. Ask her why she’s afraid.

Because I don’t have a car and there are no taxi’s, uber, or public transit out here. It’s too far to walk. OK – but why are you so afraid? You’re sweating and it’s not even hot out.

Because I have to ask someone to take me home and I don’t really know anyone here. Dig deeper. Why is that scary? These people aren’t really strangers, you went to school with them — you know where they live, their parents, whether they played hockey or soccer.

Some of them have been drinking–a lot. Fair enough. But not everyone is drinking. A few of them chose to be designated drivers.

But the only car with room is Darren’s. He’s not safe. What makes him unsafe? He isn’t drinking. Is he reckless? A criminal? Has he done something to you or someone you know?

She shakes her head. What makes him unsafe?

She lifts a shoulder. He’s on the hockey team. He’s loud. He’s really big. He’s been looking at me all night. I can’t predict how he’s going to act or behave. Why is that important?

Because last time I ignored those warnings and something bad happened. Because if I can control everything, then I won’t be hurt again. You’re shaking. Are you OK? She shakes her head. I’m all alone. Here, use my phone. Call your Dad.

Fun Fact 3: Fear and excitement create the exact same physiological response. This means that our bodies react internally to fear and excitement the same way. The difference between how our bodies respond to fear or excitement is how we mentally/emotionally interpret what we’re experiencing. WHAT?!

Now we have a better why. Now there’s more at stake for this character than having to walk home or ask a schoolmate to drive her home. Now the reader gas skin in the game. They care (hopefully) and are wondering what’s happened to this poor girl. It’s not just being shy, or timid, or that she’ll be teased. Her whole body is reacting to a fear. She’s learned from the past and can’t see a way out of it happening again.

How do we show this girl’s fear? She’s sweating. She’s shaking. She doesn’t say much, she shakes her head a lot. This happens when the logical/analytical side of our braing shuts down and the part of our brain responsible for survival takes over. She can’t think her way out of this–she’ll walk home before she gets in a car with that guy. She’s not paralyzed, but she’s not thinking rationally either. PTSD is one condition that causes this type of reaction.

She can perhaps feel her face heating up. She feels her hands trembling. She’ll be hyper-vigilant of who is near her, of any possible threats (loud noises/voices, who’s been drinking, who is most likely to do something unexpected/threatining). She may start crying and not even realize it. She’ll protect her vulnerable bits: slouch to protect her neck, round her shoulders, cross her arms over her chest, maybe cross her legs.

“…there has to be an element of genuine loss connected to that fear—be it loss of life, limb, sanity, or loved one…”
Gary A. Braunbeck, To Each Their Darkness

Fear Amplified

Once fear is already present, it’s very easy to amplify so that even harmless events seem scary. You can prime your character to feel fear. The abusive man who comes home already angry, slamming doors, kicking toys out of his way, swearing – his family is now primed for fear. They’ll be on edge when he sits down at the table, hyper-vigilant to a threat, they’ll avoid meeting his gaze or contradicting him, and their posture will minimize their size (work to appear small). The father leans over to cut his four-year-old son’s meat, the knife scraping the plate. The child breaks out in tears and this angers the father even more – he didn’t DO anything to make the boy cry.

The Body Language Of Fear

Wide eyes, raised eyebrows, furrowed brows, flared nostrils, avoid eye contact, looking at floor or hands, slouching, hunched, crossed arms, feet angled away, busy hands, shaking or tapping legs or feet, rocking back and forth, rapid breathing, speaking very quickly or not at all, hyper-awareness, weakness, pent-up energy, inability to sleep, sweaty palms, profuse sweating, hugging oneself, covering vulnerable bits like neck, crotch and heart, racing heart…

Make sure you check out my book Method Acting for Writers: Learn Deep Point Of View Using Emotional Layering.

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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?

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

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4 Ways To Replace Dialogue With Subtext Even New Writers Can Master

October 12, 2018 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 2 Comments

Once I realized what subtext was and the different ways I could use it effectively, it became a go-to tool for deep point of view. I had a reader ask: Can subtext replace dialogue and how would that look?

Subtext is silent communication. It’s the body language (posture, facial expressions, gestures), tone of voice — all the ways we send signals and communicate without using words. Subtext can add a layer of realism and authenticity to our stories and is a necessary technique when using deep point of view.

Subtext Is Often Added In Rewrites

It’s hard to effectively use subtext in a first draft. In order to use subtext, you have to really know your characters. If I can’t get subtext to work for me, it’s usually because I don’t know the characters involved well enough.

Subtext is art more than mechanics. It’s the polish to the story so to speak. Once I really understand the story arc, the emotional arc of each POVC and the goal of each scene, then I go back and tighten things up for the subtext. In a first draft, I’m more likely to just write what the character’s thinking. Subtext is about what isn’t said, right. So the rewrites is where you can objectively study a scene and decide if using subtext would add authenticity or tension for readers.

Leave Them Hanging

One trick that’s effective with subtext is to take a question and answer exchange in a scene and cut one or the other. Have a character ask a question and then cut the answer — use facial expressions or body language (subtext) to answer. Or, cut the question (use subtext) and let the character answer what they think the question was. Yes, they might get it wrong. We get it wrong all the time in real life. Let that add tension, conflict, and complexity to your story.

Done strategically, this is very effective at showing relationship, familiarity, or a shared history/goals.

Here’s an example from the WIP I have out with beta readers right now.

She picked up the first stone between her hands. She turned it over in her hands and stared at Ulrik. Would make a sizable dent in a man’s head.

“Get to it, Felora.” He rested his hand on the handle of his sword. Easy way or hard way?

Were her expressions so transparent? She needed to work on that.

One of my all-time favorite movies is Dirty Dancing. There’s this scene between Johnny and Baby where they have this really personal, vulnerable conversation and it gets awkward, he’s annoyed. She asks him to dance.

The entire dance is subtext. It’s question and answer over and over as the intimacy escalates. I don’t use many romance examples, but I couldn’t resist here.

Facial Expression Gold

Watch the people around you, particularly people you’re close with, and see how they use their facial expressions to communicate. Here’s an example:

Sarah waited to Bobby to open the trunk and then set her bags of groceries in the car. She wiped her forehead with the back of her wrist and glared at the searing sun overhead.

Bobby shut the trunk. They both turned to get into the car when an elderly woman hobbled past trying to wrangle three overflowing shopping bags, a walking cane, and her purse.

Sarah glanced at Bobby but he hadn’t noticed the old woman’s plight. Sarah tipped her head to the side.

Bobby’s eyes narrowed. She repeated the gesture and he finally looked at the old woman for a moment. He shrugged and opened his car door.

Sarah cleared her throat. Bobby looked over the roof of the car at her. Sarah tipped her head towards the old woman again and owled her eyes. Do something.

He straightened and his brows shot up. What did she want him to do?

She slammed her hand on the top of the car. His jaw tensed, but he shut his car door and approached the old woman to see if he could help.

We all have a variety of go-to expressions to communicate questions and answers.

Something That Can’t Be Said

Do you have a scene where two characters are talking, but they can’t mention what they’re talking about? Or maybe they don’t want to acknowledge what they’re really talking about? Sometimes we all seek a little bit of deniability, right.

Maybe this is a long-standing argument — who’s going to take out the trash this week. Maybe there are others present who don’t/can’t know what’s really being talked about? Mom and Dad arranging a little one on one time with little ears still in the room for instance.

In these situations, subtext can be the whole other conversation happening that’s unrelated to what’s actually being said. These are fun to write because they’re challenging and rewarding when you can pull it off.

I love this scene from Captain America: The First Avenger. Steve Roger’s plane is going down, it’s a suicide mission and he contacts Peggy one last time to say goodbye. But instead they talk about rescheduling a dance at the Stork Club. It’s heartbreaking to watch.

Backstory Kills Subtext

Backstory serves you, the writer, better than the reader often. Remember, backstory answers one question and leaves the reader with two more. It gets dripped into the story. Save the backstory drips for exposition or internal dialogue. Keep the backstory out of your subtext.

When subtext is being used in place of dialogue, keep it snappy and the pace moving. Keep the internal dialogue to a minimum if you can. If the dialogue is more of a mix between spoken dialogue and subtext, you’ll need the internal dialogue for readers to follow along.

Do you think you’ll use subtext in place of dialogue? Where in your current WIP would this add a deeper layer of meaning or authenticity for readers?

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