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- Herausgeber: WS
- Kategorie: Bildung
- Serie: Writers Helping Writers
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017
THE EMOTIONAL WOUND THESAURUS explores over 100 different backstory events that, through fear and dysfunction, can send a character’s life off-course until a need for fulfillment forces them to strive for inner growth and overcome the past.
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THE EMOTIONALWOUND THESAURUS:
A Writer’s Guide to Psychological Trauma
ANGELA ACKERMAN
BECCA PUGLISI
Copyright 2017 © by Angela Ackerman & Becca Puglisi
All rights reserved
Writers Helping Writers®
First print edition, October 2017
ISBN-13: 978-0-9992963-0-1
ISBN-10: 0-9992963-0-2
No part of this publication may be reproduced or distributed in print or electronic form without prior permission of the authors. Please respect the hard work of the authors and do not participate in or encourage the piracy of copyrighted materials.
Edited by C. S. Lakin and Michael Dunne
Book cover design by The Book Design House
Interior formatting by Polgarus Studio
THE WRITERS HELPING WRITERS® DESCRIPTIVE THESAURUS SERIES
Available in nine languages, sourced by universities, and recommended by editors and agents all over the world, this bestselling series is a writer’s favorite for brainstorming fresh, description and powering up storytelling.
The Emotion Thesaurus: A Writer’s Guide to Character Expression (Second Edition)
The Positive Trait Thesaurus: A Writer’s Guide to Character Attributes
The Negative Trait Thesaurus: A Writer’s Guide to Character Flaws
The Urban Setting Thesaurus: A Writer’s Guide to City Spaces
The Rural Setting Thesaurus: A Writer’s Guide to Personal and Natural Places
The Occupation Thesaurus: A Writer’s Guide to Jobs, Vocations, and Careers
The Conflict Thesaurus: A Writer's Guide to Obstacles, Adversaries, and Inner Struggles (Vol. 1)
The Conflict Thesaurus: A Writer's Guide to Obstacles, Adversaries, and Inner Struggles (Vol. 2)
Emotion Amplifiers: A Companion Guide to The Emotion Thesaurus
TABLE OF CONTENTS
FOREWORD
Forewords are a bit like prologues in that there’s a temptation to skip them and get to the meat and potatoes of the book. We hope that, in our case, you’ll indulge us for a very quick yet important word about the content you’ll find within.
The purpose of this book is to provide useful information about wounding events and how they impact characters—not only the hero but any member of the story’s cast. Mentors, sidekicks, love interests, and villains are all affected similarly by trauma, which will determine the motivations that drive them toward their chosen goals. So as you read, think about each important character and how past wounds may create damage and cause personality shifts, biases, and changes in behavior and attitude.
Please also note that while we have done our best to respect these wounds by researching them thoroughly, neither of us are psychologists. The content here is not meant for real-world application and should only be used to better understand the deeper layers of our characters and how past traumas can drive their choices.
Finally, despite this content being for writing purposes, trauma is, sadly, not fictional. It is a very real, damaging thing, and reading about it can sometimes be triggering, as we have all experienced emotional pain in one form or another. We urge you to take this into account as you explore the darker aspects of your characters’ wounds. If necessary, consider putting safeguards in place for yourself. To this end, we’ve included the following section on self-care should any entries in this book hit you particularly hard.
SELF-CARE FOR WRITERS
Use This Book in a Safe Place. Many authors like to work in a busy coffee shop, a library, or even at a group writing event. But if you are exploring a character’s wound that touches something from your own past, it isn’t uncommon for a rush of unpleasant emotions to hit. If this happens, it is much better to be in a place where you can take a few moments to privately process whatever comes.
Incorporate a Time Buffer. Writing about a difficult moment in a character’s life isn’t easy, especially if some of it feels personal to you. As such, it may be better to not tackle painful content right before a scheduled appointment or over the lunch hour. When writing an emotionally taxing scene, give yourself ample time to get back into a balanced mentality before returning to your responsibilities in the real world.
Take as Many Breaks as You Need. If you feel overwhelmed, go for a walk, cuddle with your cat, or indulge in a special treat. Lighting a scented candle at the start of the session and blowing it out when you’re ready to stop is also a great way to signal your mind that it’s time to back away emotionally and turn to something else.
Have Someone You Trust on Standby. If you’ll be working on a scene that is especially personal or difficult, having a friend in the loop can be helpful. Let them know when you’ll be writing it and that you may need to call on them for a bit of support or encouragement. You might also ask them to check on you through text, email, or social media messaging. This can help with any feelings of isolation that may hit as you write.
THE MIRROR OF FICTION: A REFLECTION OF LIFE AND OUR DEEPER SELVES
If there’s a universal truth in life, it is that people are spellbound by story. Deep down, each of us craves a view into other worlds and is fascinated by the unspooling of a reality that is different from our own. We solve mysteries, fight battles, visit fantastical places, discover (or rediscover) romance, and follow the stepping-stones of a character’s journey that may or may not be similar to our own. A great story becomes a unique threshold, offering us an opportunity to cross over and experience the life of another person.
On the outside, it may seem that fiction is solely about escaping the dullness or stress of the real world, yet entertainment is only one reason people are drawn to it. Throughout the ages, story has been used to guide and teach, allowing us to pass on important information, ideas, and beliefs in many different forms.
This storytelling tradition continues today. We might tell a half-true tale to friends about our crazy weekend in Vegas or relay to co-workers an eye-rolling anecdote about What My Moronic Neighbor Did This Week. Often, however, a story comes from a more meaningful place, giving us the chance to share our raw feelings, hopes, and desires with others. Either way, as writers, if we approach the page only planning to entertain, our stories will lack depth. To ensure that our writing connects with readers, we need to acknowledge that storytelling resonates deepest when it provides them with something they are always searching for: context.
Why is context so important? Because life doesn’t come with a user’s manual (oh, how some days we wish it did!). As people, we spend a lot of time pretending that we’ve got it together and know exactly what we’re doing, but, in reality, most of us don’t. Obstacles, challenges, and opportunities come along in life and prompt difficult questions: How do I deal with this? What should I do? What will it say about me if I fail?
Unfortunately, fear, self-doubt, and insecurity are all part of the human baggage we lug around each day. Because we don’t want to seem weak, most of us won’t share our uncertainty openly; instead, we manage situations the best we can and look around for examples—context—of how to behave, move forward, and hopefully become more experienced and capable people.
This universal need to grow provides writers with a special opportunity to create a mirror of the real world through fiction, allowing readers a safe way to probe their own deeper layers. After all, as characters face tough choices, painful consequences, and hard-won achievements, readers can’t help but be reminded of their own journeys. By sharing a character’s experiences, they get an intimate glimpse into how others wrestle with difficult situations, moral dilemmas, and the disruptive nature of change. And whether readers are consciously aware of it or not, this exposure provides the context they seek, offering information that may help them better navigate their lives.
Above all else, the fictional character’s internal journey from brokenness to wholeness is one everyone can identify with because, deep down, each of us is a bit damaged. We’ve all suffered emotional hurts and are looking to heal. And stronger still are the deeper motivations to find our purpose in this world, to belong, and become better people. To accomplish these things, like the hero or heroine of a story, we need to cast aside that which holds us back: our own fears and emotional pain—the root of our insecurities.
Connecting readers with complex characters who remind them of themselves results in story magic—achievable, but magic all the same. And creating true-to-life mirrors with our fiction is the key to drawing readers in. Human desires, needs, beliefs, and emotions are all areas to explore, but one of the most potent real-life reflections that should steer a story from start to finish is the character’s emotional wound.
WHAT IS AN EMOTIONAL WOUND?
Growing up, do you remember something happening that you didn’t expect, something that surprised you—and not in a good way? Maybe you came home with a third-place Science Fair ribbon, and rather than wrap you up in a breath-stealing hug and fawn over the yellow slip, your mother barely gave it a glance, declaring that you should have tried harder. Now, fast-forward to junior year. You auditioned for the lead in the school musical, but the part went to someone else. How did that feel, especially when you had to deliver the news to dear old mom? What about when you missed the cut for a university program that, as she likes to remind you, your brother got into with no problem, or the time you were passed over for a promotion and had to sit through an agonizing family dinner where your sibling was lauded for his accomplishments?
Chances are, this wounded past doesn’t match your own. But if it did, at what point would resentment set in over your mother’s love being withdrawn each time you failed to meet her unrealistic expectations? How long until you stopped talking about your goals or—even worse—refused to try at all because you believed you would only fail?
Unfortunately, life is painful, and not all the lessons we learn are positive ones. As with you and me, the characters in our stories have suffered emotional trauma that cannot easily be dispelled or forgotten. We call this type of trauma an emotional wound: a negative experience (or set of experiences) that causes pain on a deep psychological level. It is a lasting hurt that often involves someone close: a family member, lover, mentor, friend, or other trusted individual. Wounds may be tied to a specific event, arise upon learning a difficult truth about the world, or result from a physical limitation, condition, or challenge.
Whatever form they take, most wounding experiences happen unexpectedly, meaning, characters have little or no time to raise their emotional defenses. The resulting pain is brutal and immediate, and the fallout of this trauma has lasting repercussions that will change the character in significant (often negative) ways. As with us, characters experience many different painful events over a lifetime, including ones in their formative years. These wounds are not only the most difficult to move past, they often create a domino effect for other hurts that follow.
Now, you might ask why we should care about what happens to our characters before page one. After all, isn’t it what they do during the story that matters? Yes, and no. People are products of their pasts, and if we want our characters to come across as authentic and believable to readers, we need to understand their backstories too. How a character was raised, the people in her life, and the events and world conditions she was exposed to months or years ago will have direct bearing on her behavior and motives within the story. Backstory wounds are especially powerful and can alter who our characters are, what they believe, and what they fear most. Understanding the pain they’ve experienced is necessary to creating fully formed and compelling characters.
When we think of emotional trauma, we often imagine it as a specific moment that forever alters the character’s reality, but wounds can present in a variety of ways. It’s true that one may develop from a singletraumatic event, such as witnessing a murder, getting caught in an avalanche, or experiencing the death of one’s child. But it can also come about from repeated episodes of trauma, like a series of humiliations at the hand of a workplace bully or a string of toxic relationships. Wounds may also result from a detrimental ongoing situation, such as living in poverty, childhood neglect caused by addicted parents, or growing up in a violent cult.
However they form, these moments leave a mark, albeit a psychological one, just as a physical injury does. Wounds damage our characters’ self-worth, change how they view the world, cause trust issues, and dictate how they will interact with other people. All of this can make it harder for them to achieve certain goals, which is why we should dig deep into their backstories and unearth the traumas they may have been exposed to. This is especially important because within each individual wound there is a darkness that has the power to not only lock the character’s mind in the past so he can’t move forward but also embed an untruth that will sabotage his happiness and leave him feeling deeply unfulfilled.
THE WOUND’S DARK PASSENGER: THE LIE
Emotional trauma is terrible to experience, but in a cruel twist of fate, the trauma itself is not always the worst part . . . it’s what hides within a wound: the lie (also known as a false belief or misbelief). The lie is a conclusion reached through flawed logic. Caught in a vulnerable state, the character tries to understand or rationalize his painful experience, only to falsely conclude that fault somehow lies within.
It might sound melodramatic, but this situation is not unique to fiction; it is a familiar reflection of how people process painful events in real life. Think about it—when something bad happens, something we don’t understand, it’s human nature for us to try to make sense of it. In doing so, we often turn our questions inward: Why didn’t I see this coming? Why didn’t I act sooner? Or perhaps in the case of disillusionment: Why did the system (or government, society, God, etc.) fail me? This usually leads to a form of self-blame or the belief that had we been more worthy, chosen differently, trusted someone else, paid more attention, or better safeguarded ourselves, a different outcome would have resulted.
Because the lie is tied to disempowering beliefs (that the character is unworthy, incompetent, naïve, defective, or lacks value), a path of destruction is left in its wake. The lie affects his level of self-worth and how he views both the world and himself. It causes him to hold back, making it difficult for him to love fully, trust deeply, or live life without reservation.
Imagine a character (let’s call him Paul) who discovers five years into his marriage that his wife is gay. They have a home, debt, kids—the whole matrimonial package. Perhaps she sits Paul down to reveal her secret after finally coming to terms with it herself. Or maybe he discovers that she’s been exploring her sexual identity with someone else. Either way, it’s a devastating blow when he realizes that the person he married is not who he believed her to be, and it throws Paul’s road map for the future into chaos.
In the immediate aftermath, Paul will feel betrayed, hurt, and angry. But as the shock settles, he will also look back and search his memory for signs that he missed, details that slipped past him that would have prevented this painful rejection: If I’d been more observant at the start of our relationship, I would have saved myself this heartache. But no, I was too stupid to see it.
Once Paul starts down this track of self-blame, his doubts and insecurities will flare, feeding the fire: If I’d been a better partner, a better lover, this probably wouldn’t have happened. She would have been happy.Then our life would be all we imagined and hoped for when we each said “I do.”
Thanks to our objective viewpoints, you and I recognize that Paul could not have stopped this devastating situation from coming to pass. But all he sees are his shortcomings: the warning signs he missed, things he didn’t do right, his failures as a husband. In his mind, he starts to believe that this was partly his doing. Internalizing the wound then leads to a false conclusion that an inner deficiency must be to blame, making Paul question his own worth: There’s something wrong with me. I’m not good enough to build a life with.
And then the lie emerges: Defective people just aren’t marriage material.
Once a lie forms, it’s like a fungus releasing toxic spores. This false belief seeds itself deep into the character, damaging his self-esteem, sabotaging his confidence, and creating the fear that if he tries to get into a relationship again, he won’t measure up, and sooner or later, his partner will leave.
While most lies center on a perceived personal failing due to self-doubt or guilt, not all of them do. In cases where a wound isn’t as deeply internalized, the person may become disillusioned in another way. Using Paul’s situation as an example, he might apply his pain to the world at large by adopting a jaded outlook on life: Everyone lies. No one is who they claim to be. Or even: Love doesn’t last. Sooner or later, people always find an excuse to leave.
This type of lie becomes a critical judgment about how the world works, because, in the eyes of the character, it’s true: Paul’s wife wasn’t who she said she was. She did lie, and she did leave. His conclusions may be skewed, but these “facts” will cause Paul to hold back, limiting how deeply he connects with other people. His fear of abandonment and rejection will grow rather than diminish, since—thanks to the negative lessons his wounding experience taught him—he’ll always be expecting the other shoe to drop.
Born of insecurity and fear, the lie is a destructive force, and until it can be reversed, it will continue to hamper happiness, fulfillment, and inner growth. Within the character arc, this lie will often clash with a protagonist’s efforts to achieve his goal because deep down he may feel unworthy of it and the happiness it will bring. Only when he is able to shatter this false belief will he truly feel that he deserves the prize he seeks.
FEAR THAT GOES BONE DEEP
Some writers argue that a truly fearless character shouldn’t be held back by emotional wounds. If so, this deviates from real-world experiences, because the unfortunate reality is that no one is immune to the pain of psychological trauma. What holds true for people should extend to characters as well, meaning, no matter how strong or brave a protagonist might be, wounds are the great equalizer. It might take losing a loved one to a random act of violence, becoming disfigured, or just failing to do the right thing when it really matters; in the end, the debilitating pain of a wound will awaken a fear unlike anything the character has encountered. This fear is so strong that it burrows into the character’s mind with a single purpose: do whatever it takes to ensure the painful emotional experience never happens again.
None of us are strangers to fear. Whether it’s rational or not, we feel the niggling pressure of it in our everyday lives. If I walk down that alley, will I be mugged?If I let the kids play in the backyard alone, will they be safe? Fear is part of our survival instinct, alerting us to possible danger.
The fear surrounding an emotional wound is a different creature, though. Rather than dissipate when the crisis has passed, it endures and grows, feeding on insecurity and self-doubt.
Because characters are rendered utterly vulnerable when emotional trauma strikes, they become convinced that they are doomed to reexperience the agony caused by these negative emotions if they do not protect themselves. Nothing motivates quite like the psychological fear of emotional pain, and the certainty that this prophecy will come to pass becomes all-consuming. As with a colonel clearing his desk to roll out a map before battle, whatever mattered to the character before no longer does, or the importance of it lessens in the face of this new threat. Prevention becomes the prime directive.
One of the most significant (and damaging) results of this type of fear taking the driver’s seat is the construction of emotional shielding, which the character erects as a barrier between him and the people or situations that could lead to more hurt. Hollywood story expert Michael Hauge calls this shielding “emotional armor” that the character dons to keep further painful experiences at bay.
What makes this shielding so damaging is that it consists of character flaws, self-limiting attitudes, skewed beliefs, and dysfunctional behaviors—all of which the character eagerly adopts to block anyone who might wish to hurt him. It also helps him avoid the negative emotions that were present during his wounding experience.
Fear is all about avoidance, and that’s why a character’s emotional shielding locks into place. Understanding the exact fears associated with a wound will help you see all the ways your character dodges uncomfortable situations and problems. A fear of intimacy might turn your character into a self-made outcast because this allows him to maintain distanced relationships or bypass them altogether. Or it might send him on a dark pursuit of power and control, creating a hardened and ruthless persona that will keep others at arm’s length.
However, as in real life, using avoidance to solve problems will result in blowback. To the character, this shielding seems like a protective layer, but in reality it encases him in his fear. Always kept close and never forgotten, a spotlight stays trained on what he’s afraid of, and it becomes a constant sore spot, a reminder of what will happen if he drops his guard or lets people get too close. Not only that, the flaws and negative attitudes he adopts to keep people at a safe distance are the very ones that hold him back time and again in life. Because the wound is never allowed to heal, fear of what could happen again steers the character’s actions and choices each moment.
Being motivated by fear rather than the desire for fulfillment leads to all sorts of fallout for the character—from relationship problems, to his deeper needs being neglected, to a gnawing dissatisfaction that life is not all he hoped for and dreamed of.
WOUND FALLOUT: HOW PAINFUL EVENTS RESHAPE CHARACTERS
Because life is a painful teacher, a character will enter the story wearing some form of emotional armor. These flaws, biases, and bad habits are very often the result of the profound difficult moments he has experienced; as authors, it’s important for us to explore those. We should especially have a clear picture of the unresolved trauma the protagonist needs to face and move past, such as Paul’s own wounding event.
Wounds and the lies tied to them can influence the core aspects of a character, which in turn will dictate how he’ll behave in your story, so let’s take a closer look at the changes these negative experiences can produce.
How They View Themselves
Because the lie within a wound is the great saboteur of self-worth, it becomes the noxious root of your character’s thoughts, actions, and decisions. If a self-taught musician believes she is stupid and lacks true talent, she will fear ridicule and avoid situations that might showcase her skills. This could cause her to miss out on an opportunity to follow her passion. She may also allow others to tell her what she’s good at and should do because she has no faith in herself.
The lie a character believes is critical to her arc because it dictates what she must learn in order to achieve a balanced, healthy view of herself and the world. When a character changes how she views herself, she gains new insight. This not only encourages self-growth but can also underscore the theme of your story.
Personality Shifts
All people have a personality blueprint: traits, beliefs, values, and other qualities that make them unique and interesting. This blueprint becomes the bedrock of who they are, setting them apart from everyone else. But when emotional trauma enters the picture, the psychological side of a person engages to figure out what caused the hurt. As mentioned earlier, if fear is in charge, a hypercritical lens will focus on whatever might have led to this moment of exposure and vulnerability so emotional shielding can be slapped into place. One of the first things on its hit list is personality.
In light of a wounding event, certain positive attributes may be labeled as weaknesses, such as being too friendly, too kind, or too trusting. When emotional shielding goes up, these traits are replaced by others (flaws) that will do a better job of keeping people and the pain they can cause at a distance.
For example, a character who fell victim to fraud may discard her helpful, friendly ways and instead embrace mistrust, miserliness, and apathy so she doesn’t get suckered again. Ironically, these negative traits become a blind spot because she doesn’t view them as flaws at all. Instead, she rationalizes that they are strengths, keeping her alert to scams and scammers alike. It is only when these flaws start to mess up her life later on that she begins to see their true nature.
It’s important to note that not all personality changes resulting from a wound will be negative. Lessons are learned during any good or bad experience, and they can lead to the character also embracing helpful traits. Perhaps this character used to jump into situations recklessly, going with her intuition rather than thinking things through. As a result of being the victim of fraud, now she’s more cautious and takes time to investigate before making decisions, especially financial ones.
Positive attributes also form when the character is coping with the wound in a healthy way, so if you want to incorporate them, pay attention to where you are in the story. For instance, when your character is in a dysfunctional state due to the trauma, her flawed behaviors should come to the forefront. But if she’s starting to move past the wound through change and growth, the emergence of these positive attributes can be a strong signal to readers that her mind-set is shifting and she’s on the path to recovery.
What They View as Important
When a character experiences a trauma, she refocuses. Things that used to matter may lose significance because of the character’s defensive state; she assesses possible vulnerabilities and gives up goals that could lead to further hurt (which creates unmet needs, discussed in a later section). She also may cling to certain people or activities because she is terrified of losing them.
Imagine a character who is investing all her time and money into getting her dream of a pottery business off the ground. Then, her eldest son is killed in a fall on a hiking trip, and everything changes. In her grief, she feels responsible for not having been there to protect him, and the terror that this could happen to her surviving daughter pushes her to sell her business and return to her previous career in accounting. This job is stable and allows her to be home more to keep tabs on her child, but it’s soul-crushing work, providing no joy or satisfaction. She sacrifices her own happiness to ensure she is always there to keep her daughter safe.
To uncover what’s most important to your character in the story, examine the past wounding event. Was there someone or something your character was trying to protect during that terrible time? What did she lose that cut her so deeply she would rather go without it than risk having it stolen from her again? What is she sacrificing that is now leaving her unfulfilled?
Understanding the answers to these questions will lead to rounded characters with real desires and longings. This in turn will help us brainstorm a strong, compelling story goal that will correlate with what the character needs and wants most.
Relationships, Communication, and Connection
Because an emotional wound often involves people closest to the character and creates insecurity and mistrust, it will affect how she communicates with others and how close she lets people get. Perhaps she is unable to talk to people without offending them, or maybe she has a difficult time communicating clearly, having to explain to make herself understood. She might always seem to be getting involved with toxic people, or she is one herself. Or maybe she’s perfectly healthy in her interactions—except with this one person or group. The dysfunctional relationships in her life, along with the unhealthy ways in which she connects with others, can be a direct result of her wounding experience.
Emotional Sensitivities
One thing we see in top-notch fiction is that no two characters express their feelings the same way. Likewise, characters will become emotionally activated (in good ways and bad) by different things based on the pain they’ve encountered. Of all backstory experiences, few are as defining as an emotionally traumatic one. Depending on how your character was hurt (Did it crumble her confidence? Shake her beliefs about family? Make her question her identity?), she will be sensitive to certain feelings.
Emotional shielding doesn’t just keep people and hurtful situations at a distance, it also protects a character from the specific emotions she does not want to feel. If your character was betrayed by a parent—say, by her mother walking out when she was barely a teen—she may be sensitive to the typical feel-good emotions that accompany loving family bonds. As such, if she attends a friend’s wedding and is exposed to acceptance and unconditional love, she may react with skepticism, jealousy, or anger. Nurturing parents may be like a knife in the back, a painful reminder of what she never had. How she expresses these negative emotions at such a happy event will speak volumes about what she’s feeling and why.
The added benefit of knowing a character’s emotional sensitivities is that not only can you write her responses authentically—that is, her thoughts, visceral sensations, body language, dialogue, and actions—you will also know what buttons to press when you’re looking for a juiced-up emotional reaction.
Their Moral Code
Every person (excepting sociopaths and other unhinged individuals) has a deeply ingrained set of moral beliefs. Provided our characters don’t fit into the unbalanced category, they will each have a code that they abide by, a line in the sand they will not cross. How and by whom a character was raised will primarily shape their morals, but a wounding event can alter this blueprint. When something bad happens, such as a character being victimized by his own government, tortured, persecuted, or abandoned, it can taint his beliefs about people and the world, causing morals to shift.
Even the kindest, most loving parent can become a monster under the right circumstances. Imagine a boy who accidentally scratched someone’s car with his bike and was beaten to death by the enraged owner. If the boy’s father discovered that police had bungled the evidence and the perpetrator was about to be set free, what actions might be spawned from his grief, anger, and need for justice?
Your character’s moral beliefs are part of his inner core and will dictate what he is willing to do (and not do) to achieve the story goal. Having his actions reflect his morals, even if they have shifted, adds credibility to the story as long as you have carefully connected the cause-and-effect dots for readers.
WOUND FALLOUT: A CASE STUDY
As you can see, a wounding event has the power to influence core aspects of a character as well as change the trajectory of his life. The repercussions of carrying a false belief will also cause him to become “stuck” in many ways, so the importance of taking the time to understand the fundamental shifts within a character can’t be understated.
Let’s return to Paul and his dying marriage to observe how his wound has reshaped him. As you’ll recall, following his wife’s devastating confession, Paul played the blame game and emerged with the flawed idea that she had sought love elsewhere in part because Paul wasn’t good enough and therefore wasn’t worth loving (the lie).
Put yourself in Paul’s shoes for a moment. Imagine the pain of believing deep down that there is something vitally wrong with you, and because of it, you’ll never find true love and acceptance. Your belief in yourself is shaken. Your self-esteem plummets. You torture yourself by visiting that ugly place within—the Well of Insecurity—where you draw up bucket after bucket of personal deficiencies, shortcomings, and memories of the stupid things you’ve done.
This is Paul’s mind-set. Suffering rejection in this way has cut him to the core, and now he’s trapped in an awful reality he never saw coming.
Suddenly in the midst of this pain, a terrifying realization hits: if this emotionally disemboweling experience could happen once, it could happen again. Fear sends Paul into a panicked scramble to do whatever it takes to ensure that this type of rejection and the pain associated with it won’t be repeated.
Here’s what that might look like, and how Paul’s life will be different in the days ahead.
Emotional Fortifications, or “Raising the Psychological Drawbridge”
When Paul’s fear kicked into overdrive, he immediately started erecting emotional shielding, leading to shifts in his personality, attitudes, and behavior. Perhaps before the event he was a friendly guy, always willing to listen, with an optimistic outlook on life. Now he’s aloof and skeptical, never accepting what people say at face value. If he senses a co-worker knows more than she claims, he becomes angry and will grill her, using manipulation or even intimidation to find out what was held back. Others in the office have noticed this, and Paul has been reprimanded by his manager twice.
Distanced Relationships
It should be no surprise that Paul holds back when it comes to people, and his standoffishness keeps relationships on the surface, not letting them deepen. He is slow to warm to newcomers and has a difficult time opening up even about small things. When he’s with established friends, he’s a bit better but often finds himself reading into what they say and do or questioning their motives. Overall, he assumes most people are not being fully genuine, and this outlook justifies his determination to never fully trust anyone.
When it comes to romance, Paul stays away from commitment; most of his relationships with the opposite sex are shallow and transactional or contain safeguards to ensure a certain distance. He chooses sexually aggressive women who are clear about which team they play for. The one time Paul started to grow close to someone, he broke it off because, in his mind, ending it early was better than becoming the jilted lover again once she realized he wasn’t worth the effort.
Viewing the World Through a Filter of Fear, Not Hope
Believing that one’s emotional pain will reoccur is like expecting that every dog one meets will bite. As Paul navigates his life moving forward, every action and decision is steered by his fear of rejection and abandonment. Trusting people, taking them at their word, letting them in—all these things contributed to his past hurtful experience, so now he places limits on certain activities and interactions. To avoid situations that aggravate his wound or challenge his misbelief, Paul also underachieves, because trying for a big goal (such as chasing a promotion at work) will reveal his shortcomings if he fails, reminding everyone that he’s defective.
Because he’s always avoiding ways to be hurt by playing it safe emotionally, he doesn’t feel as deeply about things, and this limits his opportunities for true happiness and fulfillment. By holding on to fear rather than facing it, Paul is also denying inner growth, something that would be not only personally satisfying but necessary for him to achieve important goals. His fear makes him unwilling to take certain risks even though this results in him living a half-life of discontent and stagnation.
Paul’s bright spot is his kids, and he tries to spend as much time with them as he can. However, in the back of his mind sits the fear that if he doesn’t build a strong relationship with them now, they too will one day leave him. As a result, he caters to them, and is starting to notice that if they don’t get their way, they act out.
A Hole Within that Grows
After his marriage ended, the last thing Paul wanted was another failed relationship, so he’s careful to not let things get serious with anyone. He dates to satisfy his carnal needs but is ignoring a deeper one: love and belonging. And while he finds satisfaction in his relationship with his children and enjoys hanging out with friends, as time goes on, he feels as if something is missing. In fact, as much as he hates to admit it, a part of him yearns for the very thing he’s sworn off having: a committed, loving relationship. He tries to satisfy himself with other things, such as buying a new motorbike, taking trips to exotic locations, and indulging in rich food and alcohol, but the dissatisfaction caused by this hole refuses to yield.
THE TRIGGER FOR CHANGE: UNMET NEEDS
When emotional shielding goes up, it transforms a character, creating damage that must be undone for him to find his way back to a life of balance, happiness, and fulfillment. Unfortunately, the effects of emotional trauma run deep, and the fear it generates can send a character off-grid for years until a deeper urgency emerges that prompts a course correction. The accompanying sense of something being amiss will cause its own pain that needs to be addressed. But when such a deeply embedded fear of psychological pain is driving the bus, how can the character get back on course?
Several things can cause him or her to act: regret, anger, guilt, or even a moral belief, such as fairness or honor. But above all, the primary motivators in life are fear and need. Fear, as discussed, can cause a lot of fallout and hold a character back in life. But unmet needs have the power to direct behavior above all else, meaning, if the urgency is strong enough, needs can push characters to act even if their deepest, most debilitating fears are telling them not to.
The Hierarchy of Human Needs is a theory created by psychologist Abraham Maslow that looks specifically at human behavior and the drivers that compel a person to act. Separated into five categories, it begins with needs that are the most pressing to satisfy (physiological) and ends with needs centered on personal fulfillment (self-actualization). The pyramid representation of Maslow’s original hierarchy makes a great visualization tool for writers as they seek to understand what motivates their characters.
Physiological: the most basic and primal needs, such as food, water, shelter, sleep, and reproductive sex.
Safety and Security: the need to be safe, in good health, and have stability, both for oneself and loved ones.
Love and Belonging: tied to human connection and the ability to form lasting bonds, experience intimacy, feel love, and love others in turn.
Esteem and Recognition: the need to be valued, appreciated, and recognized by others for one’s contributions, as well as to achieve higher levels of worthiness, self-respect, and confidence.
Self-Actualization: the need to attain fulfillment through the realization of one’s potential. This might come in the form of pursuing and achieving meaningful goals, seeking knowledge, attaining spiritual enlightenment, or embracing core values, beliefs, and an identity so one may live one’s truth.
The categories of needs are arranged by importance. So food, water, and other primal physiological needs are the most critical to fill since they are based on survival. Next in line is the need to be safe, then to be loved, to be respected, and, finally, to reach one’s potential. These needs, when met, create balance and satisfaction within a person or character. But if one or more is absent, it creates a hole, a feeling that something is missing. As this lack builds in intensity, the psychological pressure will grow until finally it pushes the character to seek a way to fill the void.
When a human need is diminished or missing to the point of disrupting the character’s life, it becomes a motivator. For example, a person can skip lunch and only experience minor discomfort until the next meal. But if it’s been a week since he last ate, his discomfort becomes a gnawing void that demands to be filled, an obsession he must pursue. He might cross moral lines to steal food or resort to personally humiliating actions, such as begging or digging in a dumpster. He may even take foolish risks, such as eating food that has spoiled, because his singular focus is on that unmet need. Everything else—pride, fear, self-esteem, even safety—becomes secondary.
Sacrificing one need to satisfy others happens often, which is why there’s a hierarchy. If a character must choose between a job where he’s universally admired (esteem) or financially stable (safety), he’ll choose the latter. Or his goal to become a doctor (self-actualization) may be set aside if his wife is diagnosed with a terminal disease and he must leave school to care for her (love). Just like that skipped meal, placing one need before others usually isn’t a problem in the short term, but the longer a need goes unmet, the more disruptive it becomes until it eventually hits a breaking point. Unhappy marriages end in divorce when the pain reaches an unbearable level. An employee quits a job when workplace esteem levels bottom out or mistreatment escalates. Everyone has a “final straw” moment, after which they can take no more. How quickly it’s reached will depend on the individual and the reasons he has for being in the situation in the first place.
These “need” categories help us imagine our characters’ layers and the wholeness they seek. Some unmet needs can be ignored longer than others, but they all end up at the same tipping point: once that hole grows big enough, the character will act, despite the presence of fear.
For our character Paul, despite his terror of being rejected, the void of not having a partner to share his life with creates a longing that becomes hard to ignore. At the same time, his emotional shielding is making it difficult for him to get along with people at work, and he’s struggling with the spoiled behavior of his children. Add this to his loneliness and the dissatisfaction caused by underachieving, and he’s growing increasingly unhappy and frustrated.
Eventually one of two things will happen: Paul’s unmet needs will grow until his day-to-day existence seems intolerable. Deep down he will know something is missing and feel compelled to figure out what it is and fix it. His unmet need takes over and will push him to look inward to see what’s holding him back. As urgency increases, it will eventually force him to reshape his behavior so changes can come about.
The second possibility is in the form of a new goal that causes Paul to question his current path. Maybe he meets a woman who is single, fun, and has no interest in a committed relationship. On the outside, this seems perfect to Paul . . . until he starts to develop feelings for her, something that hasn’t happened in a long time. This leaves Paul with a choice: pursue the challenge of this new goal (find love), or give it up because his fear is still too great (and break things off as he’s done in the past). He can’t have both. And, of course, he also can’t find love if his deepest internal belief is that he’s not worthy of it. So to move forward and meet that need, his lie must also be unmasked.
Change isn’t easy. In fact, it is often painful, and it takes great courage to step into the unknown. The temptation is always there for a character to stay in the safe but dysfunctional comfort zone: to settle for less while trying to ignore the hole created by an unmet need.
At the end of the day, the choice is up to the character, and, by default, it’s up to you as the author. The journey of change (character arc) is at the heart of most stories, which we’ll discuss in the next section.
CHARACTER ARC: AN INTERNAL SHIFT TO EMBRACE CHANGE
In movies, the crazy explosions, car chases, and Mr.-&-Mrs.-Smith-type trysts often get the glory. That’s all fine, but there’s so much more to a great piece of fiction than squealing tires and things blowing up. Beyond the what of any story lies the why: Why should readers care, why should they invest, and, most of all, why is the protagonist driven to act?
Every narrative has a series of events that provide a framework for the character’s journey throughout the novel. This is the outer story. Most works of fiction also contain an inner story: the character’s arc, which is the transformation he undergoes from start to finish. It is this internal element that really draws readers in, reminding them of their own personal struggles and providing the context they seek to better understand their experiences in the real world.
This inner story, or character arc, comes in three forms.
THE CHANGE ARC
This arc is the most common one. Typically, during the course of the story, the protagonist undergoes a much-needed internal evolution that allows him to free himself from the fears, biases, emotional wounds (and resulting lies) of his past. Without this baggage clouding his perspective and steering his actions, the hero is able to view his situation with clarity and act from a position of strength—not fear—which leads to goal achievement and fulfillment.
THE STATIC ARC
Some stories contain high action or are intensely plot-driven, meaning, there is less emphasis on the character’s internal growth and more on him achieving a specific goal. While these protagonists may not evolve too much, they will be challenged heavily and so must hone their skills, gain knowledge, or apply learned techniques to overcome the forces that stand against them.
THE FAILED ARC
Not all stories end with a happily ever after. Sometimes the protagonist fails, and the story ends in tragedy. This results from a failed arc, where the character was working toward internal growth but was unable to complete the necessary transformation. His fear was too great, and the hero was either unable to change or couldn’t change enough to attain the desired outcome. Often, failed arcs leave the protagonist in a worse position than he started from because salvation was within reach but he lacked the courage to shuck off his emotional shielding and free himself from fear. This is the path taken by many antiheroes.
When it comes to character arcs that involve internal change, emotional trauma becomes especially important. One of two things usually happens within this type of arc: the character starts the story lacking something, feeling an emptiness within that leaves him yearning for something more. This is the unmet need, and the rest of the story becomes about the pursuit of that need by the character chasing a tangible goal that will fill it. Take our character Paul, whose perfect life was ripped apart when his wife left him. His story may include needing to find love again (loveand belonging), achieving an important accolade at work (esteem and recognition), or both.
Other times, the character starts the story feeling satisfied and complete, with his needs fully intact. Almost immediately there is a great upheaval, and something is taken from him. The story then becomes about the character regaining what was lost. This could occur with a family vacationing in a foreign country, but civil war breaks out and they must risk a dangerous border crossing to find sanctuary (safety and security). Whatever the circumstance, in a change arc, the protagonist will struggle until he masters his fears, faces his past wounds, and sees the lie for what it really is. This change in his outlook and renewed belief in himself marks the internal growth needed for him to move forward from a position of strength, putting him on the path to reach his goal.
In most works of fiction, the same four dinner guests have a seat at the storytelling table:
An unmet or missing need that creates a deep longing or sense of urgency (
Inner Motivation
)
A tangible goal that represents the fulfillment of this need (
Outer Motivation
)
People or forces that oppose the character’s mission (
Outer Conflict
)
Any fears, flaws, wounds, or misbeliefs that block personal growth and diminish the character’s self-worth (
Inner Conflict
)
These four pieces make up the core of storytelling. Take one away and what remains is diminished, or the story as a whole may fail to work. The possible exception is a story containing a static arc; in this situation the inner motivation isn’t clearly linked to a specific missing need, and the inner conflict may consist of a weakness that hampers success and must be overcome. Still, at the heart of such stories is a problem to be solved, and the protagonist is driven to solve it.
Understanding the moving pieces of the character arc and the tug-of-war that ensues within the protagonist is often difficult for writers. (For a visual representation of these elements and how they work together in a change arc, see Appendix B.) There are many different ways to approach this, but the following is an example of the successful psychological journey a character might take when moving from dysfunction, sabotaged esteem, and fear to a mind-set of growth, renewed belief in his own worthiness, and hope.
THE JOURNEY OF LETTING GO
At the start of a story, the character is seeking to obtain his goal (outer motivation), which he may be pursuing to either avoid something undesirable or to satisfy a yearning (inner motivation). The pursuit of this objective is difficult or maybe seems impossible. There might be roadblocks in the way and people or forces standing against the character (outer conflict), but the unmet need continues to drive him toward his goal.
As the story progresses, he gradually gains small insights into the things that are holding him back (inner conflict), what he fears and why (the wound and the lie), and how his habits and biases (emotional shielding) are probably not helping. With these baby steps of self-growth, he learns and matures, adapting to his environment and achieving minor successes that increase his confidence. These successes may be akin to false positives, though, because he hasn’t fully rejected the fear and false beliefs that are causing him damage. Still fearful of emotional pain, a lot of his armor remains in place. He also continues to embrace the lie; he doubts whether he really deserves the goal but is cautiously hopeful things will work out.
A point will come when he hits an impasse or suffers a significant setback. This is the black moment, his rock bottom. He sees that he can’t win going forward as he has been—that if he wants success, he must examine his position honestly and take a closer look at some of his internal issues. This means he must confront his emotional pain and challenge the lie he believes.
Depending on the nature of the wounding event, gaining insight can be painful, but it has to be done. The character must eventually awaken to two things. First, he must see his wound in a new light, admitting that it has held him back and kept him from being happy and fulfilled. Then he must view himself differently, in a kinder light, and believe he is worthy of something better and is deserving of happiness.
This self-awareness will change his view of himself, allowing him to replace his disempowering beliefs of unworthiness with empowering beliefs (that he is worthy, has value, and is capable of achieving change). This new, balanced perspective frees him from any feelings of blame, responsibility, and unworthiness, shattering the lie and replacing it with the truth.
Refuting the lie and putting the wounding event into perspective enables him to forgive himself (if necessary) and be free of the fear that has steered his actions. It also changes his misconceptions about the world and how it operates. He is no longer held prisoner by fear; instead, he has hope and is infused with determination. Complete, centered, and embracing his true self, he does what is needed to achieve the goal, even if it means making personal sacrifices.
Let’s return to Paul one last time. His awakening to the truth that he wasn’t to blame for his wife’s rejection frees him on many levels. He no longer feels he must protect himself from the intimacy and depth of loving connections. Recognizing that it is unfair to color every relationship with the fear of rejection and abandonment, he decides to open himself to the possibility of finding love again, believing he deserves the happiness that the right partner will bring.
Paul also sees that the love between him and his children is unconditional and he needn’t fear losing them when he doesn’t give in to their every whim. Life at work has changed too. He’s able to see people more honestly instead of misreading their motives and actions. As a result, morale and productivity in the office have skyrocketed. Now believing that he’s capable of more, Paul stretches himself to take on new challenges, making him feel fulfilled and actualized.
Even if the character in your story is able to move past the wound like Paul, he will still feel fear because he will be stepping out over an abyss of the unknown. But because he believes in himself, the character knows what he must do, and he embraces the challenges ahead. Despite the forces that stand between him and his goal, he is ready to move forward by shedding the negative qualities that are holding him back and either adopting new, positive traits or honing forgotten ones. He may in fact be tested by encountering a situation similar to the wounding event. This will trigger the same fear, but his newfound strength and belief in himself allow him to master it instead of being mastered by it.
Provided your protagonist successfully navigates the change arc and achieves his goal, the wounds of the past won’t disappear. That pain will always sting. The difference is that the character, embracing empowering beliefs, has an inner strength he lacked before that will keep him from allowing the hurt to fester. Moving forward in the face of adversity, he will deploy healthy coping strategies and harness positive qualities to stay centered and on the path to wholeness.
