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?

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

How 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?

Advice From Jack Sparrow On Building Emotional Connections With Readers

March 6, 2019 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 7 Comments

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

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

Jack Sparrow Is Relateable

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

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

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

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

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

Jack’s An Ethical Pirate

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

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

“Why fight when you can negotiate?”
Jack Sparrow

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

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

Jack Is Always The Underdog

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

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

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

Jack Teaches Us Things

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

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

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

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

Jack Surprises Us

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

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

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

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

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

Create Emotional Connections With Readers Using Deep Point Of View

December 7, 2018 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 3 Comments

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

October 23, 2018 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 22 Comments

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder – PTSD – is a popular device for fiction authors. PTSD forces your characters to overcome insurmountable obstacles emotionally and mentally. Characters who are at war with themselves in addition to any external conflict just makes good fiction.

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.

**UPDATE** So, this is one of my more popular posts and as this has been a personal struggle for me especially over the last few months, I wanted to go back and add some details and nuance that hopefully you’ll find helpful.**

What Do Writers Get Wrong 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 or melodramatic. 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.

Do more research than just symptoms. Flashbacks seem to be the most appealing aspect of writing a character with PTSD, but actual recurring flashbacks are a symptom of very severe PTSD which is absolutely debilitating in every way. Try talking to someone who struggles with this. Read blogs written by those who live with or struggle with this, or have a loved one who struggle with this. Know that the symptoms don’t encompass the whole struggle but are simply the tip of the iceberg.

What Else Is There To PTSD Other Than Flashbacks?

Yes, flashbacks can happen with PTSD, but here’s the truth about flashbacks – not everyone has them frequently or even at all. Most writers love the idea of using flashbacks, I’ll admit they’re fun to play with, but where writers often miss the mark with PTSD are all the OTHER symptoms that are debilitating and soul-crushing. Far more common are triggers which require more subtlety and art to really convey how devastating they can be.

PTSD is a filing problem – basically. Where most brains are able to process and appropriate file away a traumatic memory, for whatever reason – a particular memory or file gets left out and never gets filed away (processed). It’s kept front and center for easy access essentially rewiring the brain.

When triggered, (a smell, a place, a feeling, a person, etc.), the inner-most part of the brain (the amygdala – stay with me) sounds off like a fire alarm. When that fire alarm goes off, the rest of your brain diverts all power/energy to that alarm centre. So, once the fire alarm goes off, you’re incapable of “thinking” your way out of a situation. Instead, you’ll instinctually react in the way that’s most likely to “save you” whether it’s fight, flight, or freeze.

When PTSD rewires the brain, that fire alarm (which is useful, which is necessary) is now super super sensitive. It’s like placing a fire alarm over your toaster. You’re going to get a lot of false alarms. So, in real life we might take the battery out of the alarm, move the alarm or move the toaster. But with PTSD, because the brain can’t figure out where to file that memory, you’re kind of stuck with these constant false alarms. So most or at least a lot of energy goes into avoiding setting off that fire alarm.

This creates a near-constant hyper-vigilance that is exhausting. Utter, soul-draining, bone-weary exhaustion. To the point where you can’t think clearly – you struggle to order your thoughts or prioritize things correctly (Learn more about the mental fog here.) It’s debilitating and can very thoroughly undermine your self-confidence. Every small task or outing gets weighed against the emotional and physical and mental toll it could exact. And let me tell you, this foggy thinking makes life seem pretty f—ing hopeless pretty fast.

And while only the most severe cases have persistant flashbacks, that hyper-vigilance and exhaustion is pretty common. The mental fog caused by the hyper-vigilance or a trigger is common. The frustration and internalized shame of not being able to sort your thoughts, or trust your own thinking is intense.

Give Your PTSD Character A Coping Mechanism

Most people learn coping mechanisms to manage the symptoms of PTSD simply to function, but those mechanisms wear out, their effectiveness wanes over time, our tolerance of them grows thin. If a trigger is the fire alarm, the coping mechanims are essentially the broom being used the fan the fire alarm to prevent it from going off.

If that “broom” is the only way you can manage life at all, you’ll go to some pretty extreme lengths to prevent having it ripped from your hands. Now, that “broom” can be expressed in a wide variety or combination of ways: anger or violence, self-medicating with drugs or alcohol, workaholism, eating disorders, becoming a hermit, suicidal, etc.

At the same time, someone with PTSD is going to cover up their pain at all costs. People stare. They avoid you. They whisper. And all of that gets internalized over time. They’ll be fine in a social situation until they aren’t and they react in (what might appear to be) an irrational or erratic way, but internally they’ll have clamped down and “soldiered up” as long as possible.

Show the consequences of how ineffective that bloody broom strategy is! Show what happens when the broom is taken away (alcohol, a person, a schedule, etc.).

Show Don’t Tell A Trigger With PTSD

You want to show and not tell, right. The person struggling with these kinds of anxiety or PTSD is going to go to great lengths NOT to think about the original traumatic event. Who consciously relives traumatic events? Nobody.

More likely, the traumatic memories are shoved to the very back of the mind and actively avoided, and numbed when avoidance isn’t possible. They’ll be ruled by emotions, and unless they dig down into the WHY of their strong emotion, the PTSD may go untreated for a very long time.

Instead, show the coping mechanisms (the broom) used to control the symptoms or turn their mind off (escapism, fantasy, porn, drugs, alcohol). For me there’s a predictable progression that happens that tips me off to that fire alarm detecting smoke. I feel it in my gut first, a clamping down, a tension, a tightness, and a feeling like I don’t want to be in that place. Then I start to blush, my face feels like it’s on fire. Then I start to tremble. I’ll look down and notice my hands trembling, but at times it won’t feel like I’m looking at my own hands at all. Then my last warning is profuse sweating – regardless of the environmental conditions.

Now keep in mind, that through all of these symptoms, I’ll be waving my damn broom at the fire alarm with the ferocity of a kid trying to put out a fire with their breath. I’ll be using all the grounding techniques I can think of because I’ve decided I can’t or won’t let myself leave the situation.

When PTSD is triggered 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. A moment ago you were rationally able to recognize there wasn’t any danger, but then the switch is flipped and your body is absolutely convinced you’re in mortal danger.

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. The slow removal of their dependence on their grounding techniques or coping mechanisms 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. Spring it on them. 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 sets you back days, weeks, even months.

A Blindsided Character Could Be An All-Is-Lost Moment

Being blindsided by a trigger at any point. A situation that’s been fine a thousand other times can trigger you that one day because someone new is there, because you can’t get your usual seat by the door, because someone’s wearing the cologne that your attacker wore. 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 leaves 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

September 20, 2018 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 5 Comments

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?