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

October 31, 2018 by Lisa Hall-Wilson Leave a Comment

Boo! What better day to write about the body language of fear than the scariest day of the year!

A Deeper Look At Fear

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

Chronic stress is a low-intensity fear response to worry, daily insecurity, anxiety, etc. The more I learned about the body language of fear, the more I realized that fear is an emotion that every novelist should know more about because it’s laced in virtually every character arc ever written.

**Sorry if you thought this post was only for horror/thriller authors.** smile **not sorry**

4 Components Of Fear

Fear can be partly instinct, partly learned, partly taught, partly imagined. Pain causes instinctive fear – survival instinct. Falling is an instinctive fear present even in newborns. Past experiences can create learned fears – a young child will learn to fear bunk beds if they had a friend fall out of one and seriously injure themselves. Social context can teach fear of a particular person (avoid your uncle – don’t ever be alone with him) or various forms of racism. The fear of public speaking is largely imagined, but what’s really at stake is reputation, identity, self-worth.

What blend of fear does your character feel?

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

The Role Of Intuition

Humans have this wonderful gift of intuition. The problem is we don’t listen to it often enough. We perceive a threat (could have been body language, past experience, a friend’s experience, an article we read a year ago) but we discount that perception in favor of what we can see. When you take that admitted predisposition and place a character in a situation that feels threatening but they can’t see anything threatening the fear is ramped up.

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

We allow ourselves to disregard our intuition if we can’t explain it logically – he doesn’t look like a rapist.

In fiction, the role of intuition — especially if the character ignores it, is a great device to show the reader unease and discomfort and tip them off that something bad is about to or could happen. The conflict between internal dialogue and physiological response can be juxtaposed with what’s expressed outwardly.

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

Answering The Why Question

Remember, we have to answer the why question for readers so we work backwards. Why is your character afraid? What is it exactly they’re afraid of and what’s at stake? What do they stand to lose?

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

This is a guest post for Writers In The Storm blog. Read the full blog post here.

Registration is open now for my 8 week course Method Acting For Writers: Learn Deep Point Of View Using Emotional Layers. Registration closes in THREE DAYS!! Don’t wait!

3 Ingredients You Need To Make Readers Feel

August 16, 2018 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 2 Comments

I get so many writers telling me that what they want is to make their readers feel something. Their goal is to make a reader laugh, cry, shake their fist at the sky–whatever, either to cheer on the character or cry in sympathy with them. Deep point of view is a great stylstic choice to do this, but there are three key ingredients to create emotion in deep pov:

authenticity

specificity

emotional triggers

Malcolm Gladwell in his Revisionist History podcast episode “King of Tears” said: “Beauty and authenticity can create a mood, they set the stage, but I think the thing that pushes us over the top into tears is details. We cry when melancholy collides with specificity. And specificity is not something every genre does well.”

Emotional Triggers

I talk about emotional triggers in my book Method Acting For Writers: Learn Deep Point of View Using Emotional Layers. Primary emotions are the gut-reaction, unthinking, instinctive emotional reactions to people and situations. Secondary emotions are the thinking response to those primary emotions. We must DO something with all these emotions and that’s where an observable behavior comes into play. Where things can get muddled are with emotional triggers.

Emotional triggers catapult us immediately to the secondary emotion or behaviour without us understanding or processing the primary emotions involved. We’re instantly angry or full of shame and lash out verbally. It’s a practiced reaction that’s happened so often we don’t even recognize what’s going on.

Emotional triggers cause sympathy because they’re quick–sudden, often irrational, and usually don’t correspond to the intensity of the situation. For readers to empathize or ‘feel’ alongside the main character, they have to understand WHY the point of view character is behaving this way.

A woman with PTSD is at the gym. She knows her triggers are men who are bigger than her, but she’s navigated this scene before so she feels safe. While on the floor exercising, a very large man stands over her and winks. That’s enough to trigger her PTSD.

She skitters out from under him, her heart pounding, sweat begins rolling down her face, and she nearly runs away. Her reaction is out of sync with the situation, she won’t even be able to articulate in that moment what’s going on (this is the essence of a trigger), but if you ask her all she’ll say is she’s not safe. But there’s no real threat. A reader will lean in if they understand the trauma she’s reliving and her utter terror at having anyone learn why she’s reacting the way she is.

Specificity

Being specific with sensory details and descriptions can ratchet up the emotional tension quickly.

“Marguerite was dark, greasy-skinned and morose-looking, wearing a shiny purple dress that appeared to have been bought when she was a little thinner.” The Silkworm, Robert Galbraith

“But my father stood like a stone tucked into the earth.” Sky In The Deep, Adrienne Young

These are very specific word pictures through the point of view of at best-secondary characters. Do you know how each point of view character feels about the person they’re describing above? Stories are rooted in a specific time and place. Opinions, prejudices, fears are tied to specific experiences. Too many writers skim over the details that would pull a reader deeper into the story.

Chose metaphors and similies that are specific, that create a word picture readers can picture. Choosing which details to be specific about is critical because describing every single thing with intense specificity is exhausting and will kill the pace of your novel.

Let’s look at an example.
Something set the officer’s nerves on edge.

The officer stared at the fidgety kid in the corner who wouldn’t meet his gaze, his cop-sense leaning in for a closer look.

Which example pulls you deeper into the story from the cop’s point of view? Now the reader knows what the cop’s looking for, what he interprets as a warning sign, which is better than just being TOLD the cop is on alert.

Authenticity

“Fiction is the truth inside the lie.” Stephen King

The situations, circumstances, and characters might all be fictional but how they react, their emotions–those we must be truthful with. A character doesn’t have to behave in a way we agree with, but we do have to understand why they’re behaving that way. Remember to maintain logical sequencing: thought then action; action then reaction. A character who’s irrational without reason feels like they’re too stupid to live.

Think about the low-budget hack and slash horror movies with the dumb blond tropes. What rational person knowingly moves closer to life-threatening danger without any plan, weapons, or compelling reason? Yet this happens again and again in some of those movies. I have nothing invested in whether that character lives or dies. That’s not how you create emotion. Depending on how she’s killed, I might feel revulsion but not true fear.

Be honest. This is really hard. I have a beta reader who really pushes me to be more honest than I’m comfortable with in terms of my character’s emotions and actions *mittened fist-bump Holly* and my stories are better for it. Holly keeps saying – I don’t get why she did that. See, Holly doesn’t have to agree with what the character is doing, but she does need to understand why. And the why has to be compelling and seem rational to the character.

When I’m challenged about why a character feels a particular way and the only answer I have is… because – that’s not good enough. You need to know your characters intimately to pull this off. This is part of why I called my book Method Acting For Writers because we need to share our emotional experiences with our characters to create an authenticity readers can immerse themselves in.

What books have you read recently where you found yourself emotionally invested in?

**Make sure to pick up Method Acting For Writers: Deep Point Of View Using Emotional Layers **

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

June 22, 2018 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 2 Comments

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?

3 Reasons Deep Point Of View Might Not Be Working For Your Story

April 19, 2018 by Lisa Hall-Wilson Leave a Comment

When writing in deep point of view, even though this writing technique is visceral and delivers an emotional punch — sometimes it just doesn’t seem to be working. There’s no depth. Readers aren’t connecting with your characters. Assuming the story is well constructed and the characters well-conceived, does that mean Deep Point of View isn’t the right decision for your story?

Perhaps.

Maybe it means you have one of the problems below instead and just a simple tweak can turn a good story into a great story that readers tell all their friends about.

Voice

Deep Point of View is a great tool that almost by necessity forces you to create unique voices for your characters. However, if your characters all sound the same, or they just sound like you, that’s a problem. Often, the cause for this is that you either don’t know your character as well as you think you do, or you’re trying to artificially force a character into a plot event. Deep point of view works best for stories that are character driven, not plot driven.

As an exercise, pick a scene with high tension/emotion. Dig down into what I call the why. Why is your character behaving this way? What are they trying to accomplish by behaving this way? List three other ways your character could react to that exact situation and in point form explain the thinking/rationale that character would use to justify each of those actions. The actions don’t have to be rational, but they do need to make sense to that character. What does each of those reactions show readers about that character’s traits, motivations, goals, backstory, etc. Now, pick the action/reaction that is surprising, that forces the character into a situation or emotional state that leaves them uncomfortable.

Now that you know why your character is behaving the way they are and what they’re trying to accomplish in that scene, now write the scene as the character moves through the scene.

Filter

Every detail of the story that the reader knows about has to come to them through a point of view character, and that character has to have opinions, feelings, attitudes, prejudices, history, etc. that influence how they see the world and see themselves in the world. This filter is applied to every word you choose, every metaphor, all of it.

Sometimes this points to a confidence problem in the writer – either they don’t trust themselves or their reader. Sometimes it’s laziness because we don’t want to do the hard work of figuring out these kinds of details. Don’t take that personally. Every writer is guilty of lazy writing at least now and then.

So, going back to the exercise above, you’ve rewritten the scene as though your character is telling the story. Do your word choices reflect how your character feels about what’s going on? Katniss Everdeen in The Hunger Games describes her sister’s cat as the ugliest cat in the world and says it’s the color of rotting squash. It’s not an orange cat, or a marmalade-colored cat, it’s not the color of a Halloween pumpkin – it’s the color of rotting squash. How do you think Katniss feels about that cat? You find out that Katniss’ sister named the cat Buttercup. What do those two small pieces of information tell you about Katniss and her sister? About how they each see the world. That’s filter.

Change (Emotional Arc)

Does your character change over the course of the story? This might be why the deep point of view technique isn’t working. There is such a thing as a static character, a character who begins the story with all the tools/skills/knowledge they need to accomplish their goals. Usually, we see this in characters who are professional detectives, lawyers, etc. Lee Child’s Jack Reacher is perhaps one of my favorite static characters. Indiana Jones could arguably be considered a static character. However, most of the time your character will have to grow, change, learn, acquire new skills or thinking in order for them to have success by the end of the story. Will your readers see that change through the way your character experiences or tells the story? In the words they use, what they notice that they might’ve skipped or skimmed over before?

The emotional arc applies even to static characters. They have to care about something in order to put themselves at risk to accomplish the seemingly-impossible story goal. Emotional arcs are critical in deep point of view because the reader isn’t just inside your character’s head, they’re inside the character’s heart too. This journey then should include some emotional challenge to overcome. Is their pride getting in the way? Is it their prejudices or attitudes or assumptions tripping them up? These emotional obstacles need to be overcome. Remember, to build in this emotional journey for your character and readers too.

I LOVE getting emails from readers and I LOVE hearing how these posts are helping you create better stories. What topic(s) would you like to see covered here? Leave a comment or send me an email!

Want to learn more about deep point of view? Heard about it and don’t know what it’s really about? Been told readers struggle to connect with your characters emotionally? Know about deep point of view, but stumped trying to find intermediate-level resources? Registration is now open for Method Acting For Writers: Learn To Write In Deep Point Of View. Class begins May 7 and the cost is $165CDN (approx $130USD).

4 Times You Shouldn’t Write In Deep Point Of View

April 17, 2018 by Lisa Hall-Wilson Leave a Comment

Deep point of view is a popular writing technique and is recommended by editors and agents. The appeal of deep point of view is putting readers IN the action of the story — handing them a set of virtual reality goggles. Deep point of view is immersive, immediate, and emotionally compelling, but sometimes this style of storytelling won’t serve you well.

On The Nose Writing Slows The Pace

Strictly speaking, writing in deep point of view would have you describing in detail every step or action a character makes. This can really slow the pace of your story. When you’re trying to create an effect of anticipation, dread, foreboding, etc. then slowing the pace might be exactly what you want to do. However, unless it serves the story, just let your character open a door, go to work, make dinner… you get the idea.

Remember, the more time and attention you give something, the more significance the reader will attach to it. If you spend a lot of time describing that long walk to the front door, there had better be something significant behind it or the reader will feel cheated or manipulated.

Action Scenes With No Time For Internal Dialogue

While it’s often true that deep point of view uses a lot of internal dialogue, it doesn’t have to. However, there are times where the action of the story is moving at such a pace that the character doesn’t have time to think. You could remain in deep point of view in these scenes and just capture the physiology (what’s going on inside the body – heart rate, etc.) and body language. By omitting the internal dialogue, you can create a sense of no time to think. Or you could slip out of deep point of view to a more distant perspective for the same effect or as a contrast to the deep point of view to lend a feeling of the action moving fast. The character might simply report on what’s going on. This could also be effective in a situation where a character is forced to react instinctively to a threat or demonstrate a lack of self-control.

Deeply Emotional or Traumatic Scenes

When an entire novel is written in deep point of view, sometimes pulling back into a more distant perspective at a moment of extreme emotional upheaval (when done well) can pull the reader deeper into the story. Pulling back can give the sense of an out-of-body experience or a pain too deep to feel – going numb. This almost detached objective reporting can also show readers an unwillingness to deal with a trauma or emotional pain.

For me, this technique works a bit like when you cut yourself with a knife. A sharp knife. You’ve felt the blade slice through your skin, maybe you see the wound and maybe blood has some to the surface. It doesn’t hurt yet, but you know it will. It’s going to hurt a lot. For a brief moment, you have this detached ability to assess the injury before the pain hits you.

To Show Time Passing

There are transition scenes where your character needs to move from one place to another, and unless you’re writing sci-fi you can’t simply transport them there. You need a scene that shows them travelling from one place to another, but nothing actually happens in this scene to move the story forward. Don’t stay in deep point of view just because the rest of the novel is and irreparably slow the pace of your novel in these moments. These are great bookmark moments and it’s just best to avoid including bookmark scenes. It’s OK to say, Joe ran two red lights and cut off three cars on his way to the hospital.

I would encourage you to dig deeper in these nothing-happens scenes though. These transition scenes are really an opportunity for a character’s self-reflection. To show their emotional arc taking place in the lack of plot action to distract them. Ever had that moment where you’re just keeping busy to avoid thinking or feeling, and then you run out of things to do and you’re left alone with your thoughts finally? Donald Maass says these scenes are where a character’s unmet needs can really shine.

4 Ways Writers Cheat Reality With Internal Dialogue To Write Better Fiction

March 23, 2018 by Lisa Hall-Wilson Leave a Comment

Emotion In Internal Dialogue

Internal dialogue is the power horse of deep point of view. Because this style of writing is personal and intimate, the things we tell ourselves, our internal observations, opinions and biases makes up a significant part of the conflict in the story. Internal dialogue is often the vehicle through which setting, subtext, and often the emotional punch are delivered. There are a lot of things we think privately we’d never want to be known more widely, yet that’s where the reader lives for the duration of the story in deep point of view.

Deep point of view strives to bring as much realism as possible into our storytelling. We need to understand how our brains work in real life and where we sometimes have to cheat reality just a little to make a better reading experience. This is a great companion post to my free 5-day e course on Writing Emotions in Layers.

Compress

In real life, someone in emotional distress will chant, they might ramble on and repeat the same thing for ten minutes or more. You have to compress that in fiction. No one wants to read eight pages of a character chanting or repeating (internally or verbally) the same phrase out of shock. You have to compress what might be a realistic reaction. Give the impression a character is repeating herself without writing it out or just say it once or twice and move on. You can give the reader the idea they’ve been stuck like this, chanting, rocking – whatever, without bogging down the story pace.

Scale-able

Remember to keep the emotions scale-able. Whatever the inciting incident is, whatever sets your main character into conflict, this absolutely needs to be intense, but the general rule is it can’t eclipse the final conflict in emotional toll or impact. Make sure whatever emotion you start off with is scale-able. Now, if you’re writing for a Happy Ever After (HEA) ending, you’ll want to tie things up in a neat bow and leave everyone happy. If you’re looking for a more realistic ending, you’ll need to make sure your character loses something important at the end of the story.

Psychology

There are a lot of really great psychology books out there that will help your writing in BIG ways. One that’s a personal favorite is Brené Brown’s Rising Strong. Don’t shortchange your readers on the emotional journey however painful. Writers like Nicholas Sparks, George R. R. Martin, and Jodi Picoult are experts at torturing readers alongside their characters. Depending on your own preferences or those of your readers, you can choose how gritty this emotional journey will be, but it must have an emotional punch.

Where books like this are helpful to writers is breaking down the mental process of finding the root of problems. Go through this process of self-discovery personally as well as with your characters. Identify the problematic behavior and work backwards until you’ve landed on the unique mixture of coping and defense mechanisms behind the behavior. Those defense mechanism hide or compensate for an emotional hurt/wound. Determine what caused the hurt/wound. What blend of characteristics makes your character weak or vulnerable to this hurt? How does this wound continue to cause them pain?

And this is where you’ll have to break from reality. You’ll have to create perfect storm-like scenarios where your character’s original hurt/wound is exposed. This can feel artificial but your story has to fit inside your genre’s word count expectations. (Here’s a great post from Anne R. Allen on genre word count expectations.) Often, in real life, this process takes place over years, has a lot of false starts, missteps, and backtracking. In fiction, you are restricted to the narrow timeline of your story.

Time

The rule in deep point of view is to avoid naming emotions. There are exceptions to this depending on how much time has passed since the traumatic event. Emotions are processed by both the left and right parts of our brains. We FEEL with one half, and analyze and label with the other half of our brain and that transition takes time. Ever had that sense where you’re overwhelmed (shock, surprise, etc) and you aren’t able to articulate or express what or how you feel until hours later or the next day? This is why.

Some people get stuck at this stage and never learn enough self-awareness to label or work through how they feel. Instead, they self-medicate with alcohol, anger, perfectionism, drugs, workaholism, etc. They focus on not feeling anything. Typically though, the more time we’ve had to process an event the better able we are to think through how we feel. Some people need to talk this out, others will journal, others will need time alone just to think. How the emotions are processed is very individual, but the passage of time affects how we talk and think about emotional trauma.

It’s important to understand primary and secondary emotions and how they should affect our storytelling.

The more time that passes between a traumatic emotional event and the memory of it, the more realistic it is to label the emotions that were felt. I’ve written before about writing a traumatic backstory for your characters. But, remember that the power of Deep POV is immediacy, so this should be the exception to how emotions are expressed not the norm.

Resist the temptation to use a heavy hand and bluntly label an emotion just because it’s a historical event. How ready are you to talk about the death of someone you loved very deeply? Even years later, you’ll likely be willing to talk about the person but not go into detail about the death itself especially if it was traumatic for you in some way.

When my father and grandfather get together, they’ll reminisce about the years when my dad was young and the various escapades and adventures that took place. However, there was a messy divorce and separation when my dad was a teen, so these trips down memory lane rarely include any mention of the teen years or my grandmother. It’s acknowledged she was around but little more.

We have a way of talking around the things that are still a bit raw, but with internal dialogue in ficiton we can bypass this tendency. Your character may be able to fool everyone around them that this past event doesn’t affect them anymore, but the reader needs to know how much it still hurts.

Want to learn more about deep point of view? Heard about it and don’t know what it’s really about? Been told readers struggle to connect with your characters emotionally? Know about deep point of view, but stumped trying to find intermediate-level resources? Registration is now open for Method Acting For Writers: Learn To Write In Deep Point Of View. Class begins May 7 and the cost is $165CDN (approx $130USD).