3 Ingredients You Need To Make Readers Feel

August 16, 2018 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 5 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.”

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Emotional Triggers Can Create Instant Impact

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: The Power Is In The Details

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?

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

July 20, 2018 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 2 Comments

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?

[click_to_tweet tweet=”New book out ‘Method Acting For Writers’ https://amzn.to/2msg4wd” quote=”Sharing our emotional memories with our characters helps readers connect in deeper ways. This is method acting for writers!”]

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!

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

June 22, 2018 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 2 Comments

How do you write action scenes that keep readers leaning in, holding their breath, and cheering for the character to win no matter how impossible it looks? Put the reader IN THE ACTION by writing in deep point of view!

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 of an action scene must be specific to that character in that moment. The 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

Remember, primary emotions are the instinctive, knee-jerk, unthinking emotional responses we have to things. What mix of primary emotions are at play for your character in this action scene? That mix may trigger the fight, flight, or freeze response if there’s danger or threat perceived, or it could trigger a secondary emotion — where there’s a thinking response — TO DO something — with the primary emotions at play.

In action sequences this process must happen fast *snaps fingers* to keep the tension high and the pace moving. 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 beside it in a failed attempt to intimidate.

Reacher’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 Reacher’s 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. Another character with less self-control, less experience, less training, more at stake emotionally, would respond differently to that same mix of primary emotions.

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 bumped 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

Meyer’s 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, Meyer has zoomed way in to create the same but opposite effect for readers.

This is a stylistic choice.

There isn’t a right or wrong amount of internal dialogue or description as long as you keep the pace moving, reveal character, and push the emotional and story arc ahead.

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 actor do we point the camera at to best tell the story 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.

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

Readers Want More Than The Body Language Of Love — They Want The Why

June 20, 2018 by Lisa Hall-Wilson Leave a Comment

Last week I visited Writers In The Storm and wrote about writing deep point of view using layers of emotions and I promised this week to share about writing love in deep point of view. If you missed last week’s post, make sure you check it out.

Let’s recap for a moment. A secondary emotion is our thinking response to primary (instinctive, unthinking) emotions. A secondary emotion could be triggered by one or a dozen primary emotions, and that blend will be unique for every character in every situation.

In deep point of view, it’s vital to understand the why of an emotion. Why is your POVC attracted to that other character? What need or desire are they trying to ease or fill? What emotions (or mix of emotions) is fuelling that feeling of love?

“I opened the door and there he was. It was like I was a magician and had thrown aside the curtain to show my lovely assistant. The sight of him caught my breath in my throat.”

Laurel K. Hamilton, Blue Moon

When it comes to love there isn’t a one size fits all kind of love, is there? It’s nuanced and varied, the relationships don’t all have to look the same or be founded on the same primary emotions. The Greeks have/had 7 words for love:

Eros – erotic-sexual love

Agape – selfless, sacrificial love

Ludus – playful love, overt flirting/teasing/seduction with no strings attached

Philia – deep friendship, platonic and sincere

Pragma – standing in love (as opposed to falling in love) the longstanding practical love as shared by a couple married for a long time

Philautia – self-love – could be meant in a narcissistic way, or in the way of taking care of yourself enabling you to better love others

Storge – familial love as between parent and child

I would guess there’s a lot of books out there that focus on ludus moreso than eros or even pragma. So, let’s reframe how we think about writing love…

3 Ways To Ramp Up Setting And Description With Subtext

May 30, 2018 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 2 Comments

How do we use subtext to communicate setting and description?

Subtext is all about what’s not said. It’s about what’s implied, the innuendo and euphemism; it’s layered implication, it’s infused into facial expressions and tone of voice–it’s illusive. Subtext is about the underlying or secondary meanings we want to convey to readers.

I’ve had a few emails asking for help with setting. These tips help pull my readers deeper into the story every time.

What Forces Are At Work?

You must take into account all of the forces at work for and against your POV character in any scene and let that influence their words, their body language, their thoughts, and how they see and interact with the world around them. You shouldn’t need to TELL your readers anything, they will infer how your character FEELS through your description and setting — that’s subtext.

Let’s consider this scenario:

Ed and Sarah are in love and want to make plans together for that night.

Ed and Sarah are in love, but Sarah is Ed’s boss’ daughter and if Dad finds out Ed will lose his job, so they hide their love.

Ed and Sarah are in love and want to make plans without Dad finding out, but Ed also doesn’t want Sarah to think he’s ashamed of her or afraid to tell her father.

Ed and Sarah are in love and want to make plans without Dad finding out. Ed doesn’t want Sarah to think he’s ashamed of being with her and then his boss asks him to work late.

All of these things are at play in Ed’s head and heart. How would these factors color how he sees and interacts with the world? Because how he views the world at any given time will affect the way he describes settings and people.

If Ed is hopeful he can keep all the balls in the air, then that arrogance and confidence will shine through.

Ed strode into the office, the room lit with the last orange rays of the day promising a warm evening.

If he’s tired and questioning whether the girl or the job is worth all the trouble, that will similarly affect the way he interprets and filters the world around him.

Ed trudged into the office and shut the door with a soft click. The boss wouldn’t turn on the lights until the sun had gone completely down and the only light in the room was the glow from his calculator display.

Consider if he’s afraid, or prone to anger? This whole thing could go sideways and then what?

There would be a mighty push/pull tug-of-war going on inside him because he has a lot at stake. With subtext, always be aware of what the character has at stake, what they need to communicate but not say outright.

Use Setting To Mirror How A Character Feels

This is building on the last point. By using devices like personification, pathetic fallacy, and others you can infuse the setting and description with feelings. By giving the natural world and inanimate objects feelings and human behavior, readers can infer how the character feels. Let’s look at some examples.

“Nothing says hell has to be fire, thought Ralph Truitt, standing in his sober clothes on the platform of the tiny train station in the froze middle of frozen nowhere. Hell could be like this. It could be darker every minute. It could be cold enough to sear the skin from your bones.”

A Reliable Wife, Robert Goolrick

Standing on the train platform in the frozen middle of frozen nowhere. How does Ralph Truitt feel about where he lives? About having to wait on the train platform? Does it matter what the train platform looks like? Can you picture a tiny frozen train platform? Readers will do 90% of the work with description.

“He bought a ticket for the first bus out, no matter where it was going. Which turned out to be an end-of-the-line place way north and west, on the shore of Lake Superior. Fundamentally the wrong direction. Colder, not warmer. But rules were rules, so he climbed aboard. He sat and watched out the window. Wisconsin flashed by, it’s hayfields baled and stubbly, it’s pastures worn, its trees dark and heavy. It was the end of summer.” The Midnight Line, Lee Child

How does Jack Reacher describe Wisconsin in fall? Not terribly flattering is it. It’s actually quite beautiful there in fall, but Reacher is headed somewhere he doesn’t want to be, alone-again, leaving town after a relationship has ended. Do you see that how Reacher FEELS colors everything he sees. He’s going to an “end-of-the-line place” that’s “colder, not warmer” where the pastures look worn and the trees dark and heavy.

He doesn’t see the bounty of harvest, the colored leaves, or the sunsets over pastures. He doesn’t sigh with relief at the cooler temperatures or welcome the approach of fall. The way Reacher describes the setting mirrors how he feels and allows readers to infer through subtext how he feels.

Precise Word Choice For Description With Punch

Once again, we’re building on the last two points. Here’s an example:

“Yes, father,” Bran told him. He looked up. Wrapped in his furs and leathers, mounted on his great warhorse, his lord father loomed over him like a giant.” Game of Thrones, George R.R. Martin

Martin emphasizes his point of view character’s stature (a child) as well as how he feels about his father. Bran is impressed and intimidated by his father, yet knows he holds a privileged position. His lord father loomed. Bran could have described his father a million different ways, but Bran sees that his father casts a long shadow. Just a word and we can infer how Bran feels about his father through his description.

“But I ain’t never seen a baby yell like Mae Mobley Leefolt. First day I walk in the door, there she be, red-hot and hollering with the colic, fighting the bottle like it’s a rotten turnip.” The Help, Kathryn Stockett

The baby is red-hot and hollering — that’s not a normal sight for this character. We can infer she isn’t used to seeing infants this upset. The baby is fighting the bottle like it’s a rotten turnip. 0_0 What’s that tell us about the point of view character?

We use items we’re familiar with for comparisons. Turnips, typically, aren’t the chosen fare of the wealthy is it? Do you see the subtext at play here?

“I was dreaming of cool flesh and sheets the color of blood.” Blue Moon, Laurell Hamilton

Not how one typically describes their bed or their dreams, is it? What’s the subtext here? First, Anita is the point of view character and her lover is a vampire. Now, with that context does this line of description help with the subtext? Her lover isn’t normal and the sex is HOT – at least, that’s the subtext I drew from that line. What can we infer about Anita from that? Hmmm…

The setting and description should mirror how the character feels. The setting and description should lend subtext to a character’s goals and motivations. That seems like a lot, but it’s simply precise word choice and word associations.

Share your best line of description or setting and see what others infer from the subtext.

5 Deep Point of View Errors Every Writer Makes

March 21, 2018 by Lisa Hall-Wilson Leave a Comment

Shifting Your Story Into Deep Point Of View Often Isn’t Intuitive!

Deep point of view is a stylistic choice writers can use throughout an entire novel or to add emotional punch to important scenes, but it isn’t an intuitive technique for many. It’s not difficult, don’t misunderstand me, but this technique requires a shift in how you capture the story for your readers.

With this technique, readers aren’t looking for an objective reporting of what’s going on, they want to be IN THE ACTION. Of course there are times where you use telling or utilize a shallow point of view for effect, but if your whole novel is in deep point of view readers want to see inside the mind of the point of view character.

Think of the reader like a judge. You, the writer, are the lawyer presenting evidence to the judge about how your character feels. All you have in the way of evidence is what the character is thinking, doing, and saying, along with physiology and body language. The reader decides what the character is feeling.

When I am beta-reading or giving feedback in my course Method Acting For Writers: Learn To Write In Deep Point Of View, there are a few questions I end up asking over and over. These are questions that every writer working to deepen the emotional intensity of their writing should ask of each scene. Making these errors isn’t a sign of bad writing at all. Writing in deep point of view is a mental shift, you’re not telling the story–your character is.

You’re telling – show me how he/she feels about this.

Emotions are such an integral part of writing in deep point of view, but you must show them. Don’t tell me the character is sad, anxious, happy, worrying, etc. Don’t think you can slip in an anxious wave or a nervous laugh either. There’s no, he threw her a condescending look. In more distant points of view, these are all acceptable, but not in deep pov. Show me, give me the evidence that proves how your character is feeling.

Frustrated, Ryan threw the game controller across the room.

becomes…

“This game is stupid.” Ryan chucked the game controller and dented the wall.

I could have said Ryan tossed the controller, or threw it on the table or on the floor. I wanted more escalation than that, something that felt over-the-top, disproportionate, to show frustration. Do you see the difference?

You’re Showing AND Telling. Trust Your Readers.

This happens when writers understand showing and telling but don’t trust their readers. It looks something like:

Shane stuffed his hands deep in his pockets and kicked a can down the street. Depressed, he trudged home. “Stupid party. Stupid people. I didn’t want to go anyway.”

The bolded portion is the telling. I could lose that and make this more interesting for readers. There’s good showing here, but I didn’t trust the reader to figure it out. This is also an example of author intrusion in deep point of view. The character wouldn’t think this likely, it’s the author inserting themselves into the story to give the reader information.

What Else Is Going On? What Other Sensory Details Can You Add?

There’s a tendency to focus on just sight. Sight is closely linked to decision-making so it’s going to be the predominant sense much of the time. However, our senses are a backdoor into our character’s emotions. Smell and taste are both closely linked with memory. Don’t dump backstory on me, take me back through the memory evoked by the senses. Make me care about that memory, good or bad, too. Sound/hearing is closely linked to emotions. This is why soundtracks are so vital in movies. Two notes, the Jaws theme, evokes a feeling in you, right? Use sound to ratchet up the emotional tension.

And don’t include every sense in every scene. Overwhelming your reader with details will send them packing.

Why Is He/She Behaving Like This? What Is She/He Thinking?

This comment often stems from a character’s actions not being fully fleshed out in the narrative. The point of view character turns around and punches another character in the face. The writer has to tip off the reader about why this has happened. In deep pov, the point of view character doesn’t get to keep secrets from the reader. The reader is in on ALL of it. Thought then action, action then reaction. What thought triggered that action? It doesn’t have to be a long, articulated thought, but some thought triggered that action.

There was a knock at the door, that two-knuckled double-time rap. James leapt from the couch and escaped through the window to the fire escape.

becomes…

There was a knock at the door, that two-knuckled double-time rap. Landlord. James glanced at the calendar on the fridge. First of the month. Already? He leapt from the couch and escaped through the window to the fire escape.

The first example is just reporting. It’s a director with a camera capturing the action. You’re not writing for a newspaper, you’re writing a novel. In deep pov, we want to put readers inside the head of your point of view characters. This means you have to show why the character is making the decisions they do.

How Does He/She Feel About This?

This is kind of the reverse of the above question. Emotion draws us into story. That’s how we care. We can sympathize and identify with the emotional struggles of the characters we love. But if the writer doesn’t let us in on the character’s emotional journey, the reader is left out in the cold. Also, instead of adding in body language or internal dialogue to show readers how a character feels, show how a character feels about the setting. Katniss in The Hunger Games describes her sister’s cat as being the color of rotting squash. How do you think she feels about that cat? What’s her outlook on life that day?

“Hey, you busy after work?” Sally picked up her jacket and patted her pockets to check for her car keys.

“Yeah. Promised the wife I’d help paint the living room.” Jake snatched up his keys and wallet.

He was married? “Yeah, OK–sure. Some other time?” She gave a wave and fled out the door to the parking lot.

becomes…

“Hey, you busy after work?” Heat flushed her cheeks. Sally reached to play with her hair and instead patted her chest pockets like she was checking for car keys. Who kept car keys in their breast pockets?

“Yeah. Promised the wife I’d help paint the living room.” Jake snatched up his keys and wallet.

He’d been flirting with her for a month. Her throat constricted and she swallowed bile. What a creep. Sally had to clear her throat to speak. “Yeah, OK–sure. Some other time?” She fled out the door to the parking lot.

Hopefully, the second example put you in the story with Sally. You could sense maybe the courage she’d worked up to ask him out after work, second guessing herself–making herself vulnerable to rejection, and then her surprise at finding out he wasn’t who she’d thought he was.