8 Ways Voice Can Show Emotional Depth

July 6, 2020 by Lisa Hall-Wilson Leave a Comment

How we say things communicates as much or more than what our words say. Deep point of view takes show-don’t-tell to new extremes, and I’ve found it helpful to pause and take things in from new angles and perspectives because there are a great many things we overlook or take for granted.

When we communicate in real life, we use quite a lot of non-verbal cues to convey emotion. We parse the meaning in speech from body language (gestures, expressions, etc.), from content, and voice.

Tone of voice is incredibly powerful and often overlooked in fiction. We’re tempted to shortcut things – he exclaimed, she whispered, she said anxiously. Sometimes our voices change unconsciously, but the change can be heard, and sometimes it’s intentional. When intentional, we can affect our voice to convey emotion or attempt to invoke it in another person.

Ever seen a young girl try and wheedle something from her father? This lilting, half-pleading, higher pitched voice is affected. “Daddy… Can I have…”

Think about the phrase “get out.” Said with a loud assertive voice – Get Out! You know the speaker wants those with them to leave. Get out said in a playful light tone might indicate surprise or incredulity.

How a voice sounds is about more than volume, but also consider speed, pauses, cadence, pitch, etc. Punctuation can also play a role in this by hinting at pauses, words trailing off, etc.

Try listening to this clip – just listen. Can you pick out the voice changes? The emotion in the both Ethan Hawke’s and Robin Williams’ voices?

Let’s have a deeper look at some aspects you can play with when adding voice details. Remember, you can mix and match these. Surprise readers with emotions they don’t see coming but that also give a greater depth to your characters.

Shaky Voice – This can affect both the pitch and volume. It can tattle on nervousness, overstimulation, exhaustion. It could also be described as a tremble where it might show being cold or afraid. There’s a rhythmic wobble to the voice, and it can affect the neck, jaw, tongue and face as well.

Change in Pitch – There are lots of emotions that might cause us to change the pitch of our voice. When there’s romantic interest, our pitch can change dramatically to show interest, deference, or vulnerability. A sudden higher pitch can signal nervousness or anxiety. Suddenly lowering the pitch can indicate vulnerability, a desire to hide.

Her lithe body pressed against his chest, her every curve flattened against his torso.

“Everything OK?” His voice cracked on the last word.

Can you guess at what this character ↑ is feeling? Just tone of voice.

Cadence – It’s when you choose to go louder or softer, faster or slower, etc. Monotone voices can show boredom, nervousness, lack of enthusiasm. Choosing to use a rising inflection at the end of every phrase, whether it’s actually a question, or not — is pretty annoying.

Volume – We get really quiet for a variety of reasons including feeling vulnerable or overwhelmed, nervous, anxious, tired, fearful, etc. We similarly get loud for good reason too, sometimes just to be heard over another noise, to clarify ourselves, frustration, nervous, angry, etc. Ever expected someone to be really mad at you and instead they go quiet? That’s super unnerving isn’t it. This is often paired with cadence, we get quiet and our speech speeds up, or our voice gets low and very quiet, etc.

Watch this clip from The Fresh Prince. Soooo many raw emotions. So many small signals of one emotion blending into another. Powerful!

Dry Throat/Loss of Voice/Hoarse Voice – These can be symptoms for a variety of things from innocuous allergies to very serious illnesses. However, when used to convey emotion, having a suddenly dry throat or hoarse voice conveys nervousness, anxiety, panic, fear, stress, etc. A common cause for a dry throat is constant swallowing from being anxious or nervous. Those characters who carry tension in the throat or jaw may struggle with this.

Articulation – How well a person can express themselves, or they express themselves differently can show lots of emotion. We typically skip over or omit in fiction the ums and ahs, however, those stumbles can show nervousness, anxiety, fear, vulnerability, excitement, surprise, overwhelmed, etc. Showing someone search for a word, or go around in circles trying to say something that’s simple – it all shows emotion.

Effective use of pauses, incorrect words, forget words, backtrack and reword things repeatedly, can show emotion. Combine this with a higher or lower pitch, with a sped up or slowed down speech, or even volume – have the voice get progressively quieter or louder. Mix and match these things for greater effect.

Stuttering/Mumbling – We stumble and mumble when we’re nervous, tired, apprehensive, afraid, etc. There’s a number of emotions this could show. We can trip over our words unsure of how exactly to express ourselves or become hyper aware of body language and self-correct endlessly when we sense our words are having a negative or undesired affect.

Listen to how Matt Damon’s voice gets lower, quieter, when he talks about the wrench and why he chose the wrench. Can you hear the vulnerability there? Hear the contrast in the lighter, almost playful-dismissive tone Damon uses juxtaposed against Williams’ even, radio-FM DJ voice. It carries conviction without being confrontational. Just listen to the changes in Damon’s voice near the end when it’s repeated – it’s not your fault. He goes from joking, defiant, angry, and then vulnerable and it’s all through his voice.

Intensity – You can use an assertive tone, a playful tone, an authoritative tone, a declarative tone. I follow two actors on social media who both like to post inspirational/motivational videos. One punctuates his speech with various noises, laughs, varied cadence, and comical expressions to get his point across. Always on point and way deeper than you expect. The other actor taps into an intensity that includes being loud, that includes faster speech, lots of cadence, and is punctuated by sharp movements and clipped words. You can show passion, excitement, frustration, redemptive anger, stress, sadness, joy, fear — all kinds of things by varying the intensity.

An Exercise

Next time you’re in a group or public place, listen for the changes in voices that signal emotions. Or do the same with a movie or TV scene. How does their voice change? How does the pitch, cadence, tone, tempo, articulation, etc. change to affect meaning in the speaker or those they’re speaking to.

Do you incorporate a character’s voice into your story to add emotional depth?

An Emotion-Critique Group For Intermediate Writers

July 5, 2020 by Lisa Hall-Wilson Leave a Comment

Are you looking for a critique group that goes beyond the basics? A group who is committed, who has a bit of a thicker skin, who understands story structure, character arc, plot, tension, pace, etc. They might not always have these things nailed, but they know how important they are and want to craft the best stories they can. And they need/want help adding emotional depth to their stories.

And hey – maybe there are some advanced writers in this place too?

I have found that many conferences and workshops and books are targeted to the beginning writer. And that’s fair – there are a lot of people who want to write a novel or a book and are looking for help on how to get started. But, after I learned the basics, I searched for a group that would help me get to the next level and those were very hard to find.

Maybe you’ve published one or two books, maybe you have one or ten manuscripts in a drawer. You’ve been at this for a while and want to add emotional depth to your story and characters, but can’t find a crit group or the resources to help you focus on that. The beginner classes are no longer much help, but you don’t yet qualify for the professional groups like NINC.

The Deep Dive Author Club Membership

I created this membership last year and the founding members offered their own insights into how to make it even better. So, I’m launching this curated critique group to a wider audience.

This critique group will read up to 30 pages a week. We critique up to ten pages a week for the first three weeks of every month and take the last week a month off. You are expected to not only submit pages for review each week, but read and offer critiques to the others in your small group (three to four writers).

This is intense. It will be a lot of work. You need a teachable spirit. Sassy-pants and drama llamas will not be tolerated. The focus is on going deeper with emotions. Comments may be made towards structure and plot, but that will not be the focus. Deep POV will only highlight structural problems, it never fixes them.

Each small group will be created with an eye to grouping like-genre and experience together. You will also receive a critique from me each of the first three weeks. You’ll receive your file back with comments in the margin and also a Loom video of me going over the critique so you understand some of the why’s behind my comments.

On the off week each month, there will be a teaching video exclusive to the group that focuses on going deeper with emotions and deep point of view.

There are only 20 spaces available. I opened this up to the alumni of my 5 week deep pov masterclass last week, so I only have a few spots remaining. Learn more here: https://deepdiveauthorclub.vipmembervault.com/products/courses/view/1031977

This group will open 2-3 times a year for new members. Current registration closes July 9th, 2020 (this is the deadline for submitting your first ten pages). Watch this page for dates of when it will open again, or join the free Facebook group Going Deeper Into Emotions In Fiction — details of new classes will always be posted there.

Writing Traumatic Memories Without Overwhelming Readers

June 9, 2020 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 8 Comments

PTSD and trauma (both big “T” and small “t” trauma), affect our memory in different ways, and when writing in deep point of view, it becomes telling to label an emotion for readers. So, how do we write trauma memories realistically without overwhelming readers with gratuitous details and melodrama?

PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) and trauma, either as current events or historical, are compelling elements in fiction. An essential tool then becomes backstory, memories, and flashbacks to show character arc and internal (and external) conflict.

Big “T” Trauma vs Small “t” Trauma

Trauma is a response to any event that overwhelms our ability to cope, causes feelings of helplessness and diminishes our ability to feel a full range of emotions. Keep that in mind, because anything can be traumatic depending on the individual and what they can cope with.

Big “T” trauma events cause an individual to feel they’re in mortal danger. Small “t” trauma events (a divorce for instance) are overwhelming for a short time. When crafting characters, don’t think of trauma as only big “T” trauma events like natural disasters, hostage taking, kidnapping, murder, rape, war, etc. Small “t” trauma can be just as devastating, and moreso for individuals who endure repeated small “t” trauma. A series of “t” events that pile up (like being bullied) can be trauma by a thousand cuts.

How Big “T” Trauma Affects The Brain

Small “t” trauma, because it lacks the life-threatening component, may be captured differently in memory. The character might remember what they were thinking for instance, where they were, what else they were doing that day. When asked to recall a traumatic event, brain imaging scans show that some parts of the brain light up and others go quiet. To oversimplify things, the part of the brain focused on survival is prioritized and the parts of the brain focused on communication, analytical thinking, etc. are slowed or at the least not prioritized.

People may react first without really thinking about their actions when when fight, flight or freeze is triggered. I walked five miles for help, but don’t remember walking. The ground crunched when I walked, every step on broken glass, but I couldn’t think of why it the ground would sound like that (see account below). The part of the brain that labels things, that rationalizes or understands the WHY behind the things we do, shuts down. Of course there are accounts where some were able to maintain a presence of mind and think their way out of a problem, but their ability to do that in life-threatening circumstances is remarkable.

With PTSD, once the trauma memories are triggered (with or without flashbacks), the ability to remember and learn is diminished. I’ve sat through countless martial arts classes, but if I’m triggered while I’m there, I won’t remember anything that was taught. Nada. My brain is too focused on finding and protecting me from threat. I’ll be a yellow belt FOREVER lol.

Focus on particular details, specific sensory details, that you want readers to tune in to, that will create that immersive visceral effect you’re looking for. Rather than trying to capture everything.

How Age Affects Trauma Memories

When big “T” trauma isn’t experienced until adulthood, likely the character will have support systems in place, already developed the coping mechanisms and neural connections that will help them respond and hopefully overcome whatever they’ve survived. Things a child might not have access to or developed yet.

This means the trauma memories will be different between children and adults. They may have different priorities, different things may be considered overwhelming. This will affect how they remember things, and which details the brain looks to other sources to fill in. Memory can return in bits and pieces over time.

The internal dialogue around a trauma memory will be different depending on how old the character was when the trauma occurred. One place I’ve seen this really illustrated is in accounts of the Holocaust, because there’s been a large effort to capture those memories in the words of those who lived them. Those survivors who were adults when it happened, they remembered different details in different ways than those who were children when it happened.

How Trauma Memory Works

A trauma memory isn’t recorded in continuous action like a film. It’s recorded in bits with skips and blanks. Writing a memory from a trauma experience that reads like a news report will overwhelm readers and isn’t how memory works at all.

Memory is flexible and fluid. With time some elements fade and others come to the fore. This is the problem with prosecuting rape in court, because a victim might retell the experience immediately following the event one way and then have a slightly different story (leave some details out or become unsure of small points, remember new details) six months later in court which then makes the memory and the victim seem unreliable by judges and juries.

Memory Seeks Context, Continuity, and Closure

Human brains crave beginnings, middles, and ends to things. Context. Continuity. Closure. So, what a victim remembers immediately after an incident, their brain may purposely forget because it’s overwhelming. Or, details they couldn’t handle initially or weren’t initially aware of may emerge as they’re able to deal with the trauma in time.

The Netflix series Unbelieveable, while incredibly hard to watch, does a good job of capturing the effects of memory on trauma over an assortment of characters.

Author Rene Gutteridge described her experience being in/near the Oklahoma City bombings.

“The building had a gaping hole. Cars and trees were on fire. Ash-covered people wondered aimlessly like zombies. Police, fire and ambulances came rushing to the scene.”

But Gutteridge admits that asking her to describe the event has her tapping into coverage she saw after the fact, not her own personal experience of it. Her brain needed context and continuity, so the news coverage fills in the gaps in her own memory. In deep pov, we don’t want the news coverage, we want the lived experience of the event. What was it like in the moment? She then shared her memory of her lived experience of the event:

“One of the most vivid things I recall is the crunch, crunch, crunch sound of glass as I ran to the south side of the building to get around the fires. I didn’t take a step that didn’t put glass under my feet, but at the time I couldn’t figure out what it was that I was running on…I remember all that paper floating down from the sky and the urge to gather it up because that’s what you do when people lose their important papers—you gather it up for them.

Hours after the bomb went off, sirens still took up all the silence…Did I see death? Blood and gore? The most desperate moments of my fellow human beings? I did. I had to have. There was no way for me to miss it. Yet I have one or two small, vivid images of that sort of thing.”

Do you see the difference?

Recap: Trauma memory is captured in bits and pieces with gaps and skips in time. Our brains will fill in the gaps because it seeks continuity, context, and closure. Details remembered may change over time. Big “T” trauma memory may not register why the character is acting a certain way or what they’re experiencing in the urgency to escape or survive. PTSD memory is covered in part two, but it is not like trauma memory but is frozen in time.

Come back for part 2 of how to write trauma memories.

Are you using trauma memories in your stories?

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.

Using Defense Mechanisms To Create Emotional Depth In Fiction

April 30, 2020 by Lisa Hall-Wilson Leave a Comment

This is part two to a post I wrote last week for Writers Helping Writers on giving characters emotional context.

Your character has a reason for feeling the way they do and reacting the way they do. In deep point of view, everything is filtered through your POV character’s perspective. What does this situation mean to THAT character, RIGHT NOW, based on their own unique past experiences, prejudices, fears/concerns, priorities, and goals (emotional context)?

We know that emotions serve a specific purpose – they’re always trying to keep us safe, protect us, or inform us of a concern. In last week’s post I talked about the kids at the table. Here’s what’s important to know – not every kid at the table represents an emotion. Some of the kids at the table will be defense mechanisms. Everyone has defense mechanisms they default to, some are chosen involuntarily, some we aren’t even consciously aware of. But all of that will show the reader a lot about who the character is and what’s important to them.

Defense mechanisms (or coping mechanisms) are emotions or behaviours that step in when we are faced with something that’s uncomfortable, overwhelming, that creates cognitive dissonance, or leaves us feeling vulnerable/exposed. Some defense mechanisms are learned (often in childhood), some are involuntary, and some are unconscious.

Let’s unpack that a bit. Emotions that are uncomfortable or overwhelming, or leave us vulnerable or feeling fearful will usually force the character to DO something to resolve the discomfort. Whether they choose to avoid the problem, channel it into exercise, fantasize about what they should have said, or rationalize why doing nothing is the right path, they will DO something to feel better. They will DO something to feel as though they’ve regained control of the situation or their emotions.

Cognitive dissonance is when we simultaneously have two or more conflicting beliefs and act against one. Your character meets this really great guy, she really likes him — but he got angry once and hit her. Does she marry him? There are two opposing ideas of safety at play here. Will she choose to remain alone (which she believes makes her vulnerable), or somehow rationalize, intellectualize, or even repress the violence? How does she make these opposing beliefs somehow appear to agree with each other?

Dig Down For The Primary Emotion

Your reader won’t ever understand why your character is mad if you don’t know. You might become frustrated that your beta readers aren’t getting it, but more likely you’ll fall back into telling to get the point across. Resist!! Primary emotions are emotional reactions to things that are instinctive or knee-jerk. Secondary emotions are the thinking reactions to primary emotions. Learn more about that here. Defense mechanisms can behave like a secondary emotion, but don’t be fooled.

A Google search might bring up a variety of lists of primary emotions and if that’s helpful to you that might be a place to start. There isn’t really a template here or definitive list to go by to tell you if something is a primary or secondary emotion.

Many many emotions can be either a primary or secondary emotion. Fear could be a primary emotion: Little dog has a barking fit and the character looks up from her weeding to see a bear in the yard. The bear moves towards her little dog so she picks up her trowel and pail, stands up and starts cursing and banging and yelling and waves her arms around at the bear. What makes her decide to behave that way? Fear is the primary emotion fuelling her reaction and then anger kicks in that the bear would threaten her dog.

The anger is a secondary emotion – it’s a reaction to the fear. But if all the readers know is that she’s trying to scare off the bear (which might seem irrational), they won’t understand WHY. If the readers don’t know that the reason she’s doing it is fear, because she lost other dogs to a bear not fear for her own safety, they won’t connect with her struggle.

Afterwards, the adrenaline has worn off, her pup is safe and the bear is gone. The fear won’t go away, it’s uncomfortable, it’s unsettling, she’s trembling, feels out of control, unsafe. She returns to her gardening like it never happened. She doesn’t choose to sit with the fear, or let it dissipate, she ignores it (defense mechanism).

Suppressing the fear should have consequences. Will it make her twitchy? Will she decide she no longer wants to garden? Will she put up a fence? Will she buy a gun? What will that suppressed emotion force her to do to make it soften back, to sit quietly at the table again?

Smoking can be a defense mechanism, and if it is — you can use it to SHOW how your character is feeling or what they’re avoiding feeling. Excessive exercise is another defense mechanism that can help you show readers that the character is struggling for control or trying to sort something out. A character who actively avoids a particular person or situation does that for a reason and it can create emotional depth for readers to understand why they do that. Alcohol and sleeping a lot are both defense mechanisms that attempt to numb emotions — show the WHY behind that behaviour.

I’ve created a list of 22 different defense mechanisms to help spark your imagination or provide a label for further research as well as a chart to help you brainstorm and organize how you’re using emotions and defense mechanisms. You can download it for FREE in the Resource Hub.

What defense mechanisms are you using in your current WIP? What emotions are they avoiding or trying to feel in control of?

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?

5 Pro Tips On Writing Description In Deep Point Of View

December 31, 2019 by Lisa Hall-Wilson Leave a Comment

Woop! Let’s give 2019 a giant kick out the door and welcome in 2020 with a bang! Beginning January 1^st, I am launching 30 Days Of Deep POV on my Facebook page, where I’ll be creating a video a day based on my 30 most popular blog posts (including guest posts) on deep point of view (t. Don’t miss out! Join the fun on Facebook!

I am continuing the Deep POV FAQ series and today’s question is: how do I add more pertinent details without boring my readers?

I get asked this A LOT concerning writing in deep point of view. I’ve blogged about writing description here and here. Here and here. But it is hard to know what you should expand on or cut way back, so let’s get super practical right now. Because to you – ALL the details are important. So how do you know what to keep and what to get rid of?

How Much Does The Reader Need To Know NOW?

Some details are important for the reader to know – to understand the story, but resist the temptation to deliver all of it at once. Ask – how much does the reader need to know RIGHT NOW to understand what’s going on? My personal rule for backstory is to answer one question and leave the reader with two more. Drip. Drip. Drip. Same rule applies here with description. Scene by scene, drip-drip-drip, ask yourself what information the reader absolutely needs to know to understand what’s going on right now. Does the reader need to know the history of THAT coffee table RIGHT NOW, or does the reader just need to know that there’s an interesting coffee table that catches her eye because right now something is more important to the character?

It’s better to deliver information to the reader through dialogue than a narrative passage, it’s more fun to read and is less likely to slow the pace. Think of the Immortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare. Clary knows nothing about the shadow world, about shadowhunters, so she’s always asking questions and needing things explained to her. Her questions deliver the information the reader needs to know to understand the story, but Clary couldn’t possibly know all the questions to ask in Chapter One. She has to keep moving forward and ask questions as they come up, on a need-to-know basis. That’s the best way to think of it. Keep the story moving ahead always.

For Those Who Love Flowery, Flowing, Descriptive Passages…

If this is you, probably you find that you have to edit out big sections of narrative (and it feels a bit like you’re gutting the heart of the story). First, you can’t fix something that isn’t written, so a pat on the back for getting the words down. That’s the first big hurdle.

With deep point of view, every bit of information given to the reader is filtered through the point of view character – not you, the writer. The goal of deep point of view, remember, is for the writer to disappear and for the reader to feel like they’re IN the story with the character. Ask yourself, at the beginning of any scene, what’s your POV character’s motivation in this scene? Sounds like something an actor would ask, but it works here too. Because, whatever your POV character is zoned in on determines what they notice, ignore, explain away, take in but don’t linger over, etc.

I often use the example of a teenage boy home from school who’s hungry. (yes, this might be an example ripped straight from my own life). The boy won’t notice the new paint on the wall, that the furniture has been rearranged, that mom’s got a new haircut – nothing. (all true stories) What he will notice is that the dog is wet when it jumps on him. He’ll notice if there’s a smell in the house that hints at baking taking place. He will have catalogued everything in the fridge and know if something’s been added or removed (say, leftover pizza).

This filtering of details is super important in deep point of view. A character who’s eager to impress or please, might trip over themselves offering compliments or searching for something they think the other person is proud of. A guy who’s walked into the local coffee shop and sees his girl sitting with some other guy will notice different things than the friends who are standing right next to him. It’s not that those other things don’t exist, but the details are filtered through what’s important to that character right now.

Additionally, remember that the reader does 80% of the work of description. If I tell you that a female walks into a male co-worker’s office, shuts the blinds, slips out of her heels and pops open the top three buttons on her blouse – does it matter what colour the carpet is, or if the desk between them is mahogany or oak? Ask what would THAT character focus on, IN THAT MOMENT? That’s what the reader gets to know about. Cut everything else.

The Details Given Specificity Are Considered Important By Readers

One of the pitfalls of deep point of view is falling into what’s called writing on the nose. This is when every movement is described in a blow-by-blow account that doesn’t serve the story. This needless description frustrates readers because the story’s pace moves at a glacial speed. Remember, the more time you spend describing anything, the more importance the reader will assume it to have. Whether it’s an object on a table, the table itself, or even the walk to answer the door, if it’s important to the character in that moment it had better help move the story forward. Be ruthless about this.

Some writers love these sweeping all-encompassing descriptions of setting. The moon, the stars, the wind through the trees, the crickets, the blah blah blah. Keep in mind that these sections of description slow the pace of your story, so be strategic with them. If it’s true to the character to notice the colours of the setting sun and reminisce about some childhood memory, that’s fine, but be strategic with the pacing. In the middle of a chase scene is not the place for that kind of narrative. Also, drip-drip-drip. It’s hard to justify giving more than a couple lines to this kind of description. If it’s a paragraph, two paragraphs, half a page or more, be very objective about whether the reader needs all that information in that spot.

What is the norm for the genre you’re writing in? Some genres make more room for these types of descriptive passages than others.

Use Description To Show More About Your Characters

Yes, it’s good to be specific when possible because it helps the reader picture the scene better. However, one pitfall to watch out for is giving the character knowledge they don’t actually possess. I can open the hood of my vehicle and find where to add wiper fluid, where to check the oil and add oil… and that’s about it. I’m sure those parts have proper names but I don’t know them. You wouldn’t have to tell a reader your character is a mechanic if they can open the hood and actually name all the parts and know their function, or recognize a problem in a particular part by a sound.

I can walk into a garden (near where I live) and name many of the plants growing in any season. My husband notices flower colours. I couldn’t tell you one designer hand bag from another, but I know what expensive looks like.

Use this filter to give the reader information about your character. This is part of show don’t tell. If I’m reading about a character who can walk into a new-to-them garden and name many of the plants, I assume they know a lot about gardening. The writer wouldn’t have to tell me that. But if your character knows everything about everything, I can’t discern anything about their character.

Additionally, does this garden-loving character get upset that the Irises are planted too deep (and now won’t flower), or do they take a moment to recall the Latin name for the plant? These small details give insight into the character, but are just a drip, drip, drip of information. The reader may not catch every single hint, but they’ll catch enough to get to know your character. It’s just a phrase, not even a whole sentence, of this kind of description filtered through what’s important to the character, that really brings a character and a story to life for readers.

Ask Your Beta Readers

In the end, knowing what to keep and what to cut comes down to how well you’re communicating ideas that you feel are important/vital to the story you want to tell and the characters you’ve created. Take the time to interview your beta readers. Pick out a particular scene, ask them how it made them feel? What did they love? Where were they tempted to skim? Know what effect you were going for in that scene and blatantly ask if you pulled that off. Ask more than one beta reader.

This is the kind of feedback that will help you learn where to be clearer, where you can lean closer to what might feel like melodrama to you, or where to cut back because the point is being muddied or the passage skimmed because there’s too many details. Ask people who love your genre, but will be honest with you. Beta readers who are afraid to hurt your feelings are all that helpful, ultimately — not if you’re looking to improve your writing.

Are you a writer who writes very sparse on a first draft and has to edit in description, or are you a writer who loves to add description and has to later go back and edit much of it out? How do YOU decide what to keep?