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Lisa Hall-Wilson

Beyond Basics For Writers

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Create Emotional Connections With Readers Using Deep Point Of View

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There are still many many fans of writers like Tolkien, Austen, and Dickens, but contemporary readers (particularly genre fiction readers) are looking for more than entertainment from a book — they want an emotional experience!

“By some curious chance one morning long ago in the quiet of the world, when there was less noise and more green, and the hobbits were still numerous and prosperous, and Bilbo Baggins was standing at his door after breakfast smoking an enormous long pipe that reached nearly down to his wooly toes (neatly brushed) — Gandalf came by. Gandalf! If you had heard only a quarter of what I have heard about him, and I have only heard very little of all there is to hear, you would be prepared for any sort of remarkable tale.” J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

First published in 1937, The Hobbit was a stellar example of storytelling for the time. The narrator voice is prevalent and the whole work is written in the omniscient POV (both of which were common at the time).

In the early 2000’s, (perhaps earlier) readers began craving work that let them feel closer and more involved in the story and so close third person POV evolved. Strike is the POV character below.

“When informed by telephone that her husband was not, after all, at the writer’s retreat, Leonora Quine sounded anxious.

‘Where is he, then?’ she asked, more of herself, it seemed, than Strike.”

Robert Galbraith (aka J.K. Rowling), The Silkworm

You can see with this closer third person style, the reader was drawn much closer into the story. The Silkworm was published in 2014 – hardly vintage. Still, readers want to be in the action of the story, they want an emotional journey — they want to be the main character.

How Does Deep Point of View Look/Feel Different?

“Chris pulled the phone away from his head and stared at it. The chill on his neck crept down his back. This guy couldn’t be for real. What he was saying about the dreams had to be a coincidence.

“He started down the sidewalk. He needed to get out of here, needed to find his dad, needed to figure out how to stop chasing his tail through life.” K.M. Weiland, Dreamlander 

In this last example, the reader isn’t being “told” what’s going on, rather through what the main character sees, hears, knows, thinks, and feels, the reader must infer how the character feels to understand what’s going on. Readers have to care. They must engage and take the journey in the main character’s shoes.

Deep Point Of View Doesn’t Write For The Reader

In other less intimate POVs, the writer can insert information through a character’s internal dialogue, through dialogue tags (ie. he whispered, he wrung his hands anxiously), but in deep point of view everything is written as though the character is alone in their own heads. Beats are used instead of dialogue tags. Instead of writing a story, you’re recording a character’s journey as it happens.

No one else is privvy to the point of view character’s thoughts, feelings, and emotions. The reader and the writer are the main character, they’re not looking over their shoulder.

Using Deep Point of View Selectively

Not every writer who uses deep point of view uses it for their entire story. Some writers will use some aspects of deep point of view for just certain characters, or just certain scenes, to create intensity and intimacy for readers. It is possible to write an entire story in deep point of view, of course it is, but many writers come up with their own brand of deep point of view. They may continue to use italics for emphasis and dialogue tags for instance.

It’s important, as in anything else, to learn the rules first before breaking them. Strictly adhereing to the rules of deep point of view might be too restricting for you or the story you’re telling. Maybe you like the challenge and intensity and never waver from deep point of view.

In a shallower POV style (such as the Robert Galbraith example), deep POV is effective when used for selective scenes to deliver an emotional gut punch for reachers. For books written entirely in deep POV such as the K.M. Weiland example, using a shallower POV style in certain moments and situations will help keep the story moving and not get bogged down in the minutae of the everyday.

Deep Point Of View Isn’t Limited To First Person Or Third

Deep point of view is effective in either first person or third person styles. A story written in first person isn’t deep pov by default — there are many ways writers add distance between the main character and the reader even in first person stories. Deep POV is very popular among first person story writers, but there are many third person writers using deep POV as well.

Deep POV isn’t limited to a present or past tense style either. It can be used effectively either way. You can use deep point of view for every POV character in your story, or just one. You can write in past tense and use present tense for all the internal dialogue in deep point of view. It’s very flexible, the challenge will be to use it consistently (in whatever way you’re using it) in order to prevent jerking the reader out of the story experience.

Avoid Adding Distance Between Readers And Protagonists

The key to effective deep point of view is removing any hint that the reader isn’t IN the story AS IT’S HAPPENING, or that they aren’t the main character in any given scene. Writers build in distance in all kinds of ways that’s acceptable in other POV styles but not in deep point of view. Setting and description are used to do more than tell the reader where the main character is or what’s around them. Instead, in deep point of view the main character must feel their way through the setting.

Do you enjoy reading deep point of view? Do you feel it’s better suited to some genres more than others?

How To Write About PTSD In Deep Point Of View

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We’re always looking to create dynamic characters who are faced with insurmountable (and often life-threatening) obstacles. Characters who are at war with themselves in addition to any external conflict just makes good fiction, and one popular or common internal conflict writers use is post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

The problem is writers research symptoms and run with it. There’s so much more to PTSD than flashbacks that can add emotional layers, depth, and connection for readers.

Why Write About PTSD?

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) has been called shell shock and historically was lumped in with ‘hysteria’ for women. You can research this mental illness, the causes, and the symptoms, (here’s a great link), but I’m more interested in helping you write it with accuracy.

Giving characters a traumatic past and an ongoing condition that hinders their ability to move on is great for character arc if you can pull it off. Otherwise it can come off sounding trite. The character struggling with PTSD is facing overwhelming odds, and any character who stands up to a bully of any kind (even when it’s a mental illness) is someone readers will cheer for.

Recalling Traumatic Events

It’s true that flashbacks can happen with PTSD. What’s really happening with PTSD is that your mind is stuck and forces your body to relive a traumatic event as though it’s happening in real time. So whether the PTSD was caused in a combat situation, a hospital room, or a dark bedroom – your mind convinces your body that you’re right back there again.

Only the most severe cases have flashbacks though. What might be fun to play with is the person discovering their PTSD. They don’t know what’s going on with their bodies, and unless they learn to be very self-reflective won’t be able to figure out what’s wrong.

Who consciously relives traumatic events on purpose? Nobody. But I see this all the time in fiction — as though that’s the only way PTSD manifests. More likely, those memories are shoved to the very back of the mind and actively avoided, and numbed when avoidance isn’t possible. Instead, show the coping mechanisms used to control the symptoms or turn their mind off (escapism, fantasy, porn, drugs, alcohol). Show symptoms of anxiety (sweating, twitchy/jumpy, checking exits, feeling of being trapped – needing to get out/escape) and then send them for another lap around the block even though they’ve already done five more than usual.

The emotions and physical symptoms left by the trauma are so uncomfortable your character will proactively seek a way to get control, but they will avoid thinking about the why. Try showing the emotions and discomfort and leave the memories to be discovered like a bread crumb trail in the woods.

Show The War Going On Inside Your Character

When PTSD is triggered, an adrenaline rush hits with something close to the force the traumatic event caused. The unconscious mind is triggered and it alerts the body to imminent danger — except your conscious mind is aware there’s no danger at all — so you’re at war with yourself quite literally. It will seem to come out of nowhere or can build up slowly to a crashing crescendo.

While part of your mind is hitting the red alert button, the other part of your mind is consciously grappling with your body’s response to the perceived threat and regain control of the physical response. How would this look to an observer? The response will trigger the survival instinct of: fight, flight, or freeze. Will they come out angry, shouting, defensive? Will they try to escape, come up with crazy nonsensical excuses to leave or simply not come after they’ve promised to? Will they stay where they are because running or fighting isn’t going to help them survive – subterfuge, avoidance and compliance will? Will they stay at the party even though they look like they’re being tortured every second of it?

What Does PTSD Look Like?

The physical symptoms are easy to show; just write what’s happening to their bodies. Let internal dialogue focus on their awareness of being irrational, that there’s no threat, yet they’re unable to feel safe. They’ll struggle to control, to conceal, to minimize what others can see. Get it? I’m a BIG fan of Deep POV so I focus on showing the primary emotions through physiology and internal dialogue and showing secondary emotions through outward actions and spoken dialogue.

The Netflix series Jessica Jones is about a woman who struggles with PTSD but won’t admit it. She chooses to numb her emotions with alcohol, anger, and by pushing everyone away. She’s hard to like. But we can cheer for her because every episode she manages to put that aside long enough to help someone who can’t help themselves — she puts herself in danger even though she doesn’t want to because she knows she’s the only one who can help. But the PTSD and addiction is like an anchor everywhere she goes.

 

PTSD Is About Minimizing Triggers

Those managing PTSD will have a proactive (but not necessarily healthy) strategy to manage symptoms. Some methods might be subtle while others are extreme. Know what your character’s primal goal is when they’re triggered. Is it safety? Is it survival? Is it escaping? Have them seek that out at all costs.

They could have a mantra they recite to control their thoughts. They might have a safe person, someone they trust to watch their backs in new or upsetting situations. Grounding techniques involve consciously cataloguing why the what-ifs won’t happen (There are two exits, It’s a public space, etc.). The slow removal of their dependence on these management techniques is a great way to show growth.

Those who know what their triggers are will actively avoid situations that might set them off. This is a potential for conflict – force them into a situation where they’re uncomfortable, where they feel threatened or unsafe. Put them in new situations. I wasn’t aware that exercise fatigue mimicked my PTSD symptoms, so I was triggered by a jerk at the gym and couldn’t feel it coming on because I was in the middle of a workout. The times when you’re triggered without warning are the worst. Being blindsided by it sets you back days, weeks, even months.

Give Them A Tell

Self-awareness is critical, it’s a hyperawareness often because if you can see it coming or starting you can get off the crazy train before it really gets going. Your unconscious mind will get the ball rolling after a trigger: I’m not safe. I’m not safe. You have to be aware of that mental shift and think your way out of it but more often what tips you off is physical symptoms.

I have a couple of tells that always tip me off: blushing and sweating—profuse sweating disproportionate to the environment. Does your character have a physical symptom they’ve trained themselves to watch for? Are they suddenly jumpy or have an intense urge to leave no matter what?

They’ll want to hide what’s going on because it makes others uncomfortable (people stare, they avoid the character, or treat them differently). Show the character’s awareness of the stigma, and let them fail from time to time.

Blindside Your Character

You can be blindsided by a trigger at any point. A situation that’s been fine a thousand other times can trigger you that one day. This is a great device to save for a pivotal conflict.

It’s like a two-by-four to the head. Show their emotional wounds bleeding all over the floor and have them keep going anyway. Show them growing stronger, trusting people again against their instincts, forgiving themselves because they couldn’t get a hold of themselves again, etc. Let the whole process be messy, two steps forward and one step back. The stories that end in a pretty bow and leave everyone “cured” simply aren’t authentic.

Have a question you’d like to ask about writing PTSD in fiction with realism? What’s the most compelling portrayal of PTSD in fiction you’ve seen so far?

3 Tips On Writing Internal Conflict With Emotional Punch

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Does your main character have a line in the sand, a personal boundary or belief they will not violate? This internal conflict is central stories written in deep point of view often. What happens if the character violates their belief or boundary? What would they sacrifice in order to avoid crossing that line? What would either action show readers about what kind of person they are?

In Mission Impossible: Fallout near the very beginning of the movie, Tom Cruise’s character Ethan Hunt draws a line in the sand that defines his actions for the rest of the movie. Benji is anxious about a deal they’re trying to make happen and Hunt turns to him and says, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

That line in the sand isn’t just about Benji. Hunt means it for anyone he cares about or works with. If he feels responsible for you, he won’t let anything happen to you. (Nothing permanent, anyway.)

In the movie Law Abiding Citizen with Jamie Fox and Gerard Butler, the goal of Butler’s antagonist is to convince Fox’s lawyer character: I don’t make deals with criminals. That’s the line in the sand.

I’ll never be hungry again! – Scarlet O’Hara

What Does Internal Conflict Look Like?

Internal conflict is the experience of having opposing psychological beliefs, desires, impulses or feelings — when you believe one thing and act in a different way. If you want to Google it and learn more, you’ll want to search for cognitive dissonance. This internal conflict is often a battle between what we know and what we feel. Most of the time, people crave consistency, so this internal conflict is when we’re basically at war with ourselves but it’s how we justify our behavior or correct course. This can lead to irrational behavior.

People struggling with internal conflict are squeamish. They might turn pale or lose color. They might feel dizzy or lightheaded. They might tremble or even pass out. Most of these reactions are observable, so another character could comment on them. A character in deep point of view can share the feeling of being dizzy, trembling, feeling lightheaded, queasy or nauseous.

People justify their actions, often audibly. Consider the guy who finds the courage to talk to or ask a girl out and she brushes him off. He’ll have this inner conflict, knowing he hasn’t really lost anything and feeling rejected or unwanted. One way he might choose to create consistency again, regain control of his feelings, is to justify why it didn’t work out. She wasn’t as pretty up close. She’s actually a snob and I’m better off without her. Or perhaps he decides she wants him to work harder so he doubles down and creates consistency between what he believes and how he feels that way.

Another facet of the above point is ignoring what’s plain to everyone else. The woman in an abusive relationship might know her boyfriend is toxic to her wellbeing, but feels like she can’t leave. Leaving means being alone, means supporting herself, means not knowing what tomorrow might bring.

It could mean that every derogatory thing he’s ever said to her is actually true, and she’s sure she’d face any negative consequences he’s threatened. So to create consistency between what she knows and feels, she avoids acknowledging the abuse. She justifies or explains away his behavior so that she doesn’t have to do anything about it.

What Emotional Layers Could Be At Play With Internal Conflict

There are dozens of emotions possible with internal conflict based on what’s at stake, right. In Laurel K. Hamilton’s Blue Moon, the protagonist Anita Blake doesn’t believe in torture. But there’s a short scene where she’s desperate to get the truth from someone and resorts to torture. She crossed her own line in the sand. She’s disregarded what she knows and gave in to how she felt.

The fallout of that is her renewed faith in the boundary that she won’t torture, and when it comes up again in the novel where she needs information from someone and is encouraged to expedite the process with pain, she refuses and that costs her emotionally. As soon as a character questions their abilities or self-worth and sees themselves falling short in some way, we have shame.

Shame is a very powerful emotion to play with as a writer. Shame doesn’t tell us we did a bad thing, shame says we are bad. Shame is so heavy, such a burden emotionally that typically people will do anything to get out from under that weight. But shame is a secondary emotion, so work backwards and identify the primary emotions that would cause shame.

Subtext Is Needed For Internal Conflict

The only way internal conflict works as a story device for emotional arc is when the reader is aware of the conflict in the protagonist. The best way to show this to readers is to use subtext. This is a more advanced fiction writing tool, but if you can master subtext you’ll take your writing to another level. Subtext is what’s not being said, it’s the unspoken communication. I’ve written about subtext here and here and here.

Can you think of a movie or book that had really great internal conflict that ratcheted up the stakes for the protagonist?

 

 

Get your copy of Method Acting for Writers: Learn Deep Point of View Using Emotional Layers on Amazon or Kobo.

How To Get Inside Our Character’s Heads And Make Readers Care

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Getting readers to care and have an emotional connection to our characters is the gold medal run for most novelists. If readers don’t care, if there’s no emotional pull, it gets easy to place a bookmark in a page and walk away. *womp womp*

I’m continuing in my summer series of answering reader questions. Today’s question comes from Jenette who wrote:

“I want to get better at really getting into my character’s head and making readers feel.”

Seeking the answer to this question is what led me to really begin learning about deep point of view and ultimately to writing Method Acting For Writers: Learn Deep Point of View Using Emotional Layers and begin teaching about deep point of view.

Method Acting For Writers

Actors crawl into another person’s or a character’s skin and live out that reality. A writer crawls into a character’s head. What’s common to both is what Stanislavski and Strasberg called affective or emotional memory. It’s the idea of “write what you know”.

The range of emotions available to us now is the same range available to those in any other time or place. Society or culture will dictate how acceptable the expression of various emotions are, time and place, and may even deny other emotions, but whatever your character’s going through you’ve already experienced to some degree. Share that with your readers to make them care!

“I thought the drama was when actors cried. But drama is when the audience cries.” Frank Capra

Let’s walk through a potential scene. Tina is a teenage girl who is pregnant (unplanned) and now has to tell her parents.

Tina has to confess to something she knows will disappoint her parents. Ever had to confess to something you knew would hurt someone you care about? Ever made a decision that disappointed someone you cared about?

Tina’s pregnant because she got drunk at a party and slept with her boyfriend without protection. Ever got caught up in the moment and then regretted it later? Ever had someone with more experience, someone who was older, lead you down the wrong path regardless of the harm it might cause you? (I might have once convinced my little brother a broken dog biscuit was a cookie…)

Tina’s worked really hard to earn an athletic scholarship to university in the fall and now all of that is at risk. Ever had a situation where something you’d been planning for, a dream even, just fell apart? Ever been forced to choose between bad and worse?

Sharing our emotional memories with our characters helps readers connect in deeper ways. This is method acting for writers!Click To Tweet

The collection of emotions at this stage is likely primary emotions. Read more about primary and secondary emotions here.

The Emotional Stakes

Maybe you have more in common with Tina’s character than you thought, right. Now, let’s measure what’s at stake for Tina. We have to filter the storytelling through Tina’s worldview, so we have to know what her family’s “rules” (spoken or unspoken) are about unplanned or unwed pregnancies.

Will she walk into this situation expecting a verbal assault or support? Does admitting she’s pregnant require her to admit to other things like lying or sneaking out or underage drinking or seeing a boy her parents disapprove of? How does she feel about the pregnancy–is she excited or full of dread or indifferent? How does she feel about the father?

All of these additional stakes will help amplify the emotions in the scene.

Now Layer In The WHY.

Why is Tina facing her parents instead of running away, going to a clinic, or simply ignoring the problem for now? What is her goal in this scene? Is she looking for a confrontation or hoping for support to make a difficult decision? Is this pregnancy a way out of a future she didn’t want, a road block, or imminent disaster?

To use emotional memory, recall a situation where you experienced the same emotion. Take confessing something hurtful. What did that really feel like? Close your eyes and really let that memory well up. Swim in it for a short time. What’s happening to your body with that memory? Are you tense? Jumpy? Are you having a hard time sitting still? Now, the degree which you felt that emotion (dread, regret, shame) isn’t as important as being able to amplify it to the appropriate intensity for your character. You then layer in the stakes, your character’s own backstory, etc.

The Ultimate “Write What You Know”

The kernel for this idea came from an interview I did in 2014 with bestselling fantasy and thriller author Ted Dekker. His writing is visceral and full of emotional truth, so I asked him about that process (back when I was still a journalist. Had the chance to meet him in person a few months later – pictured below). Here’s what he said:

“I think that my writing is reflection of my own journey and I use writing to discover. It’s one thing to say that this bulb won’t break if you step on it. It’s an idea, a doctrine. In a story, you take the bulb and you have your characters step on it – you’re testing those theories those ideas in story with real characters stepping on bulbs and seeing what happens.

I write to explore what I’ve been taught or what it means to be who I am…my understanding of who I am has shifted as a result of my writing and my exploration. I’m very real with myself and my characters…I’m writing for my own journey. People who read my books are not afraid of an authentic journey…It’s a journey of transformation. Becoming aware of who we are in a whole new way. I speak out of my own experience and I speak out of some very difficult times that I’ve gone through and there’s nothing more beautiful than becoming aware of who are you.”

By using emotional memory, you can create an intimate perspective for readers that will draw them deeper into the story. In most scenarios, there are shared experiences you can draw on even if the circumstances or intensity doesn’t line up precisely.

Take a minute and sit down with your POVC. Pick a scene from your WIP and ask them a few crucial questions so you can see what you have in common (in terms of experiences). What do they want? What are they afraid of? What they hoping for? How are they afraid this will change them? How does this disappointment hurt–what emotions are touched off? Once I’ve been able to answer those questions, often I’m able to think back on some event from my past. Ahhh, this is just like that time I… and then I’m good.

Will you try this out? Let me know how it goes!

Check out my new book Method Acting For Writers: Learn Deep Point of View Using Emotional Layers. It’s on Amazon in ebook and print.

Check out my free 5-day ecourse on writing emotions in layers here.

Using Deep Point Of View Without Dragging Down The Pace Of Your Novel

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Deep point of view is a great writing technique when used well, but if you’re not careful, deep POV will bloat your word count and tie an anchor to the pace of your story.

Pace Must Be Strategic

I’ve met very few bestselling authors who, when asked, can’t tell you the pace they were intentionally aiming for with any particular novel. Whether your intent is to create a fast-paced action-packed crime novel or thriller, a slower-paced romance or contemplative literary novel, or something in between, this is an intentional choice (aka not a happy accident). Some writers use deep POV strategically in key scenes and others use deep POV throughout their whole novel. If you’re using deep POV throughout your whole novel, lean in. These tips are for you.

Avoid Writing On The Nose

Technically in deep POV, you would capture each moment and thought in a play-by-play sort of action.

Shane shuffled across the foyer and reached for the brass knob. The cold metal echoed the frosty temperatures outside. He turned the knob and pulled open the door. The metal hinges creaked and groaned…

Unless there’s a reason to stay in deep POV there, it’s OK if Shane just opens the door. If you spend this much time describing your character opening a door (slowing the pace), there had better be something important behind that door. The more time you spend describing something, the more importance a reader will assume it to have.

Sometimes your character just opens the door, goes to work, drives across town, or jets across the globe. If that journey isn’t important to the plot, if nothing happens in that journey to move the story ahead, using a shallower POV is appropriate.

Create An Effect Of Time Flying By

This is a guest post on the Writers In The Storm blog. Head over there to read the rest of the post.

5 Ways Deep Point of View Delivers Punch To An Action Scene

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I’m working through some of the reader questions I’ve received, so this week we’re looking at writing action scenes in deep point of view. Here’s the question:

“I struggle most with action scenes. How deep is too deep POV where the reader loses a sense of what’s happening in the scene? And how do I balance the character’s inner dialogue and reactions with the action?” – Rabecka

Great question. Thanks for asking, Rabecka. Let’s dive in!

Know The Why Of The Action Scene

Just like in every other kind of scene written in deep point of view, know the why for your point of view character (POVC). Why are they fighting right now? Most people take quite a bit of nudging before they’re pushed far enough to take a swing at someone. The why must be specific to that character in that moment. That why should give the reader insight into the POVCs motives, their character, their priorities, their passion, etc. All fight/action scenes should move the story or the emotional plot ahead. If you can remove that scene without changing the story, it’s not essential. Only essential fight/action scenes get to stay.

Emotions In Action Scenes

What mix of primary emotions are at play? That mix will trigger fight, flight, or freeze which triggers a secondary emotion — where we have a thinking response TO DO something. In action sequences this must happen fast *snaps fingers* In most cases, you wouldn’t dwell on this. Let’s have a look at an example:

“Reacher chose the path of least resistance. He ducked his head and let the punch scythe through the empty air above it. Then he bounced back up, and launched to his feet, and twisted, and used his falling-backward momentum to jerk his elbow into the guy’s kidney, which was rotating around into position just in time. It was a good solid hit. The guy went down hard. Reacher fell back in his chair and sat there like absolutely nothing had happened.”

Lee Child, The Midnight Line, ch 3

So, we have Reacher in a situation that’s escalated to violence. I haven’t included the primary emotions here, but Reacher’s already placed his scarred giant-sized left fist on the table, and then the even bigger more-scarred right fist in a failed attempt to intimidate. He’s watching the guys around him for tension, for anything that tips him off to action about to happen. So, the primary emotions at play here would be anticipation – hyper vigilance, wariness plus maybe dread or suspicion that’s led him to seek the information to begin with.

So, the secondary emotion then isn’t anger. It colors more like frustration or irritation because they’re making him work harder than he thinks he should have to to get the information he needs, but he’s flexible. (Many primary emotions can also be secondary emotions depending on the context — if that emotion is a thinking reaction to a primary emotion.) “It was a good solid hit.” <- This is the internal dialogue in this sequence. This is his thinking reaction to the primary emotions he’s experiencing. He hasn’t even broken a sweat — he never felt out of control or in danger, he never exerts himself. His internal dialogue reflects this inner state.

Who your character is must dictate the action and the internal dialogue in any action/fight scene.


Internal Dialogue In Action Scenes

Internal dialogue is where we communicate/show secondary emotions. Let’s look at a writer whose POVC is a bit more… thoughty than Reacher.

“…George deliberately bumping against her. She [Anna] pulled back from him and instinctively wrapped her arms protectively around herself. He gave her a sneer he hid quickly from the others.

‘Illegitimis nil carborundum,’ she murmured. It was stupid. She knew it even before George’s fist struck out.

She ducked and dodged. Instead of a fist in her stomach, she took it in the shoulder and rolled with it. The small entryway didn’t give her much room to get away from a second blow.

There wasn’t one.

Boyd had George pinned on the ground with a knee in the middle of his back. George wasn’t fighting him, just talking fast…”

Patricia Briggs, Cry Wolf

So, the primary emotions are shown through Anna’s body language. She’s wary, afraid, jumpy, hyper-vigilant. So, how does she react to those emotions (the secondary emotion)? Defiance. “It was stupid.” That’s the internal dialogue here. This scene feels like it moves a little slower than the Reacher scene. Any romance subgenre tends to be more focused on relationships so that’s reflected here. There’s more internal dialogue, more description in this scene, because that’s Anna’s thinking response to the primary emotions. Fighting back with her fists would be useless, all she has to fight with is her wit and her mouth. Do you see the difference?

Blow By Blow Action Scenes

There are some action scenes that by necessity are stark in their lack of description and internal dialogue. The intention is to create this snap snap snap response to the violence. There’s no time to think, just survive.

The shot thundered across the beach, an echo of the waves. The lead bullet broke his bottom right incisor, tore through his palate, just above his upper teeth, punched through the lower bone of his eye socket, and broke through the skin just in front of his left ear. He staggered back, then dropped down into a sitting position. Pain shot through his head. The blood dripped warmly down his cheek. His left eye wouldn’t focus.

But he was alive.

Deon Meyer, Dead Before Dying

This is a stylistic choice. There isn’t a right or wrong amount of internal dialogue or description as long as what you keep the pace moving, reveal character, and push the emotional/story arc ahead. This blow-by-blow account is visceral, it makes you want to wince. The only internal dialogue is, “But he was alive.” Where another writer using deep pov throughout the novel might widen the lens and use a shallower point of view to show an out-of-body experience or use a summary technique to force the reader to lean in, Deon Meyer has zoomed way in to create the same but opposite effect for readers.

Be intentional about this. What effect are you trying to create? I had a situation where I had two POVCs in an action scene. I had initially written the scene from the female perspective, the victim of the violence. But I rewrote it in the male POVCs voice as a sytlistic choice based on where I wanted to focus readers’ attention. If we were making movies, we might think of this in terms of which camera angle tells the story best in this scene?

What Tone Are You Creating?

The tone of the fight scene should dictate how deep the point of view is in an action/fight scene. Are you trying to create a feeling of raw shock and awe like the last example? Zoom in close and use cold, fast verbs (broke, tore, punch). Cold efficiency and proficiency like in the Reacher example? The action will be clean, fast-paced, and without a lot of description. The reader does most of the heavy lifting because the description is so sparse. The underdog facing a bully’s fists like in the Patricia Briggs example? There’s more internal dialogue, more description of what’s being felt – physically and emotionally.

Use similes and metaphors and descriptors that readers can relate to. Short, quick descriptions can be very powerful. Describing a character’s clothes as wet with blood for instance, not many of us will have been drenched with blood (thankfully) but we’ve all been thoroughly soaked while still clothed. This pairs an unfamiliar experience with a familiar physical sensation. In this way, we can write what we know even in action scenes.

Make sure you check out Method Acting For Writers: Learn Deep Point Of View Using Emotional Layers available July 1st.

Thanks for the question, Rabecka! Do you have a writing question you’d like to see me answer on the blog? Leave a comment below or on Facebook!

Do you have a favorite action/fight scene from a novel?

 

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