Lore is the backstory and history of your fantasy world. It’s the stuff that makes your world feel real and lived-in, and it can be a great way to deepen your readers’ immersion in your story.
Here are some tips for writing lore that will deepen your fantasy world:
1. Start with the big picture. What are the major events and conflicts in your world’s history? What are the different cultures and societies that exist? What are the major religions and beliefs? Having a good understanding of the big picture will help you to create lore that is consistent and believable.
2. Focus on the details. The best lore is the kind that feels real and lived-in. To achieve this, focus on the small details of your world. What do people eat? What kind of clothes do they wear? What are their customs and traditions? The more details you can add, the more believable and immersive your world will be.
3. Make it relatable. Even though your fantasy world is different from our own, it’s important to make your lore relatable to your readers. This doesn’t mean that your world has to be exactly like ours, but it should have themes and ideas that your readers can connect with. For example, you could write lore about a war that is fought over the same resources that we fight over in our own world.
4. Use storytelling techniques. Lore doesn’t have to be dry and boring. In fact, it’s more likely to be remembered and enjoyed by your readers if you present it in a creative and engaging way. Use storytelling techniques like suspense, foreshadowing, and conflict to keep your readers hooked.
5. Show, don’t tell. Don’t just tell your readers about your world’s lore. Show it to them through your characters and story. For example, instead of telling your readers about a religious festival, show them a scene where your characters are celebrating the festival. This will help your readers to connect with the lore on a deeper level.
Here are some additional tips for writing compelling lore:
Make it mysterious. Don’t reveal everything about your world’s lore at once. Leave some things to the mystery. This will keep your readers engaged and wanting to learn more.
Make it relevant. The lore that you create should be relevant to your story and your characters. It should help to explain the world that your characters live in and the challenges that they face.
Make it consistent. The lore that you create should be consistent with itself. Avoid creating contradictions or plot holes.
Get feedback. Once you have written some lore, share it with other people and get their feedback. This will help you to identify any areas that need improvement.
Writing lore can be a lot of fun, and it’s a great way to make your fantasy world feel more real and immersive. By following these tips, you can write lore that will deepen your readers’ understanding of your world and keep them coming back for more.
In 1959, Carl Jung first popularized the idea of archetypes—”universal images that have existed since the remotest times.” He posited that every person is a blend of these 12 basic personalities. Ever since then, authors have been applying this idea to fictional characters, combining the different archetypes to come up with interesting new versions. The result is a sizable pool of character tropes that we see from one story to another.
Archetypes and tropes are popular storytelling elements because of their familiarity. Upon seeing them, readers know immediately who they’re dealing with and what role the nerd, dark lord, femme fatale, or monster hunter will play. As authors, we need to recognize the commonalities for each trope so we can write them in a recognizable way and create a rudimentary sketch for any character we want to create.
But when it comes to characters, no one wants just a sketch; we want a vibrant and striking cast full of color, depth, and contrast. Diving deeper into character creation is especially important when starting with tropes because the blessing of their familiarity is also a curse; without differentiation, the characters begin to look the same from story to story.
But no more. The Character Type and Trope Thesaurus allows you to outline the foundational elements of each trope while also exploring how to individualize them. In this way, you’ll be able to use historically tried-and-true character types to create a cast for your story that is anything but traditional.
DESCRIPTION: This rebel sub-type is a loner with a devil-may-care attitude. His confidence, charisma, and disregard for authority only add to the attraction of his physical appeal, which is usually significant.
FICTIONAL EXAMPLES: Dally Winston (The Outsiders), Jay Gatsby (The Great Gatsby), Heathcliff (Wuthering Heights), Han Solo (Star Wars series), Spike (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)
ASSOCIATED ACTIONS, BEHAVIORS, AND TENDENCIES Appearing confident Defying rules and authority Knowing their own mind Seeking out excitement and adrenaline rushes Preferring to create their own destiny Wearing clothing (often dark or black) that sets them apart Always having a witty comeback Struggling with emotional intimacy Saying things just to rock the boat Dismissing others’ opinions or experiences as invalid
SITUATIONS THAT WILL CHALLENGE THEM Falling in love with someone and needing to be vulnerable in the relationship Encountering someone with an even bigger persona than they have Not being able to attain the object of their affection
TWIST THIS TROPE WITH A CHARACTER WHO… Is in charge of a business or other corporate venture Works for a charity that protects others Has an atypical trait: nervous, nurturing, diplomatic, sophisticated, etc.
CLICHÉS TO BE AWARE OF The vintage “cool guy” who dresses in black leather, smokes cigarettes, and rides a motorcycle The vampire as a bad boy A bad boy who is saved and redeemed by the love of a good girl
Every person or character, at any given time, is in a particular mood. Generally, mood is a person’s state of mind, but it’s more than that. Mood can also describe the disposition of a collective of people, a certain time in history, or the ether of a place.
Regardless of what kind of mood we speak of, it’s always subjective. Ten people can be experiencing the same event at the same place and time, yet, depending on their perspective, their individual mood will differ.
We all know about moods and have a range of them we express and feel, whether we’re aware of them or not. We can sense others’ moods just as they can sense ours. The mood of the character should affect the way he perceives his environment, and expert writers will carefully choose words and imagery that act like a mirror to their emotions.
First, Consider Your Scene’s Purpose
Your story may have an overall tone or mood, but every scene is a microsystem of mood that depends on the emotional state and mindset of your character. When you plot out your scene, you need to first think about how your character will interact with his setting based on his mood and the purpose of your scene.
Remember: it’s the purpose of the scene that determines all the setting elements—what you choose to have him notice (and not notice) and react to and why.
Words Are Everything
However, learn this truth: it is not the originality of a world or the degree of creativity in the world itself that makes a fantasy novel shine with brilliance; it’s the choice of words and phrases that the author uses that evokes not just a right sensory experience but makes readers fall in love with the writing.
Please note: this doesn’t just pertain to fantasy novels. Every novel involves the creation of a “world,” and so writers need to take just as much care in the creation of any world in any genre. Take a look at this hastily written sentence:
Bill walked through the forest until he found a cottage set back in the trees . . .
Now consider the reworked description below that I spent a bit more time on:
Bill slogged along the leaf-choked path, the spindly arms of the bare maples quivering in the cold autumn wind—a feeble attempt to turn him back. But he pressed on until he spotted, nestled in a copse of willows, the derelict cottage slumped like a lost orphan, the lidless windows dark and vacant. Hardly a welcoming sight after many tiresome hours of travel.
A specific mood is created by bringing out Bill’s mindset and emotional state. Without knowing anything else about this scene (if I’d written one), a reader can clearly sense the purpose of the action by the things he notices and the words used to describe them
To immerse your readers in the world you’ve created, you need to spend time coming up with masterful description. And the components of such description are the nouns, verbs, and adjectives you choose.
Mood Nuances
We all know about moods and have a range of them we express and feel, whether we’re aware of them or not. We can sense others’ moods just as they can sense ours. The mood of the character should affect the way he perceives his environment, and expert writers will carefully choose words and imagery that act like a mirror to their emotions. It’s a reciprocal factor: mood informs how the character sees his setting, but the setting also informs his mood—shifting it or intensifying it.
Take a look at this passage from The Dazzling Truth (Helen Cullen):
Murtagh opened the front door and flinched at a swarm of spitting raindrops. The blistering wind mocked the threadbare cotton of his pajamas. He bent his head into the onslaught and pushed forward, dragging the heavy scarlet door behind him. The brass knocker clanged against the wood; he flinched, hoping it had not woken the children. Shivering, he picked a route in his slippers around the muddy puddles spreading across the cobblestoned pathway. Leaning over the wrought-iron gate that separated their own familial island from the winding lane of the island proper, he scanned the dark horizon for a glimpse of Maeve in the faraway glow of a streetlamp.
In the distance, the sea and sky had melted into one anthracite mist, each indiscernible from the other. Sheep huddled together for comfort in Peadar Óg’s field, the waterlogged green that bordered the Moones’ land to the right; the plaintive baying of the animals sounded mournful. Murtagh nodded at them.
There was no sight of Maeve.
Culler is masterful in her usage of imagery to convey sensory detail. The feeling of rain on Murtagh’s skin is described by flinching at spitting raindrops. The blistering wind attacks his pajamas. Dragging the heavy door shows the sensation of his muscles working—proprioception. And of course we have visuals, which paint the stage for us.
We also have the sound of the brass knocker—used for a specific purpose—to tell us he’s concerned about the children waking. This is a good point to pay attention to: sensory detail should serve more than one purpose. Don’t just add a sound or sight without thinking of the POV character’s mood, concerns, mindset, and purpose in that moment. The more you can tie those things to the sensory details, the more powerful your writing.
Weather
Writers are sometimes told not to write about weather. It’s boring, right? But weather affects us every moment of every day and night. We make decisions for how we will spend our day, even our life, based on weather. And weather greatly affects our mood, whether we notice or not.
Since we want our characters to act and react believably, they should also be affected by weather. Sure, at times they aren’t going to notice it. But there are plenty of opportunities to have characters interact with weather can be purposeful and powerful in your story.
Strong Verbs and Adjectives
Using strong and effective verbs and adjectives will help you craft setting descriptions that are masterful. Every word counts. To borrow unfaithfully from Animal Farm: All words are created equal, but some words are more equal than others. Some words are plain boring, and others take our breath away.
Mood is one of the 3 M’s of character setup, and you’ll want to make sure you get the character’s mood, mindset (what she’s concerned about), and motivation on that first page. What happens in the scene will shift the mood in some way, resulting in some change in mood by the end of the scene. So think about what that mood will be like at the start of the scene and what’s changed in the mood by the end. Using the setting interactively with your character is the most powerful way to masterfully accomplish this!
Escalation is an important element of story structure. The opening pages are often quiet as key players are introduced, the setting is established, and readers are given a glimpse of what’s wrong in the protagonist’s world. The catalyst then provides a choice, where the hero leaves their ordinary world and steps into a new one. In the next half of the story, they work their way toward the goal that will fulfill them, facing many conflict scenarios that challenge their methods and way of thinking. In those story moments, the stakes get higher, the consequences more drastic, and the clashes more incendiary until everything culminates in a final confrontation that will determine if the hero achieves their goal or not. This confrontation is the climax of the story. The reader has known from the beginning that this moment would occur; it’s what they’ve been looking forward to, why they’ve stuck with the protagonist for so many pages. A successful climax will help determine how satisfied the reader is with the story, so it’s vital that we get it right.
What Is The Climax, Really?
The climax is the final showdown between the hero and their nemesis. The two may have butted heads already—multiple times, possibly—or this might be the long-awaited battle they’ve been working toward. Different structure models position this pillar at various places, but it’s generally agreed that it works best in the last half of Act Three. This allows for the proper build-up to the climax while leaving enough time for events to resolve afterward. The purpose of the climax is to give the protagonist a final chance to succeed and achieve the story goal. Numerous conflict scenarios have tested the hero’s resolve and abilities so far. They haven’t always succeeded, but as the struggles have gotten bigger and the stakes have grown, they have moved steadily toward their outer (and inner, if they’re working a change arc) goals. And now comes the biggest test of all: the final meet-up with the nemesis. It’s the protagonist’s last chance to prove themselves. If they fail here, they fail for good. As a result, the climax should definitively determine who wins.
It also allows the hero to display what they’ve learned on their journey. Whether they’ve acquired skills, identified a strength they thought was a weakness, rejected a long-believed lie, or adopted a new mindset, what they’ve learned should tip the scales in their favor during the climax. This is often where the inner and outer journeys merge because the changes they’ve undergone and the lessons they have learned about themselves are exactly what they need to achieve the outer goal. When it’s done artfully, that synchronicity creates a satisfying resolution for readers as the pieces click into place. Lastly, the climax should mirror the catalyst. As Michael Hauge says in Writing Screenplays That Sell:“Just as the aftermath contrasts with the setup at the beginning of a screenplay, the climax of the story mirrors the opportunity (catalyst). While the opportunity begins the forward movement of the story—begins the hero’s visible journey by taking him to a new situation—the climax ends that journey by resolving the hero’s outer motivation (story goal).” In a story with a three-act structure, there’s an invisible hinge at the midpoint that divides the story into two halves. James Scott Bell likens the midpoint to a mirror because the events on one side reflect the other. In this way, the climax relates back to the beginning, closing out the journey that started in your first pages.
What Are The Elements Of A Successful Story Climax?
To recap: a successful story climax should tick the following boxes:
It’s the final showdown between the protagonist and the antagonist.It mirrors the catalyst/opportunity. A definitive winner emerges.If the protagonist wins, they do so by using the lessons they learned during their journey.The victor (whomever it may be) achieves their goal.
To illustrate how these elements can be used to craft a perfect climax, let’s use Star Wars: A New Hope as an example. In a nutshell, here’s what happens in this important scene:
Luke Skywalker uses his Jedi training to destroy the Death Star, crippling the Empire and sending the enemy packing. Peace and safety are restored to the galaxy.It’s the final showdown between the protagonist and the antagonist. Luke’s fight to destroy the Death Star is the last confrontation between him and his enemy in this story. It should be noted that the true villain here isn’t a tangible one that Luke can face off against; it’s the empire. But every protagonist needs a physical adversary to battle. That’s provided in the form of Darth Vader, and Luke’s defeat of the empire is also a defeat for him. It’s a good reminder that if your hero is going up against an antagonistic force rather than an actual person, you’ll want to introduce a physical antagonist for them to fight against.It mirrors the catalyst/opportunity. Luke’s catalyst occurs back on Tatooine, when he’s invited to learn the ways of the Jedi and help the Rebellion defeat the empire. The climax mirrors this as the journey he began culminates in him destroying the Death Star. It’s also a nice touch that the person who offered Luke his catalyst opportunity (Obi-Wan) shows up unexpectedly in the climax to remind his protégé that he must use his Jedi training if he wants to succeed.A definitive winner emerges. This is made clear in the rout of the empire and the medal ceremony that follows.If the protagonist wins, they do so by using what they’ve learned. Luke is unsuccessful in destroying the Death Star until he embraces the lessons he learned from Yoda—mainly, his knowledge of and connection with the Force. The victor (whomever it may be) achieves their goal. Luke’s goal was twofold: learn the ways of the Jedi and defeat the empire. Thanks to Yoda, he has begun his journey to becoming a Jedi and has completed the first part of his objective. With the destruction of the empire, he achieves the second.
A Few Caveats
The protagonist won’t always win. If you’re writing a tragedy, such as The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas, Into the Wild, or Up in the Air, the hero will fail to defeat their adversary and/or achieve fulfillment and improve themselves.Maybe they’re unsuccessful because they didn’t learn what they needed to learn, or they weren’t able to fully embrace those lessons during the final confrontation. Sometimes, their internal conflict remains unresolved, and they allow self-doubt, fear, pride, or another habit or hang-up to rule the day. It’s also possible that they achieve their goal only to discover that it was a false goal—one that made things worse or ended up ruining them.If your protagonist is doomed for failure, element #4 becomes inverted: they don’t succeed precisely because they haven’t gained the knowledge they needed or they failed to utilize it when it mattered. The rest of the key ingredients remain the same, regardless of who wins.Quiet climaxes can be just as effective. While many thrillers, suspense, and action movies require a gargantuan clash at the end, other kinds of stories don’t necessarily need this. The climax of Pride and Prejudice, for example, happens with Lizzy and Mr. Darcy going for a simple walk. They don’t even argue at this point. Instead, they admit their past failings, express their love for each other, and decide to get married. It’s a quiet climax that still achieves its purpose. It is their final confrontation as antagonists and happens at the right point in the third act. Lizzy’s recognition of pride as her fatal flaw allows her to overcome it and find true happiness with Mr. Darcy. And her choosing him for a husband reflects the catalyst (her determination when she first met him to have nothing to do with him). This is something to keep in mind if you’re writing the kind of story that calls for a low-key resolution. A quiet climax can work as long as it does what it’s supposed to do.As you can see, the climax is important, both for your characters and readers. And the necessary elements for this moment can be applied to all kinds of stories, giving you a blueprint for success when writing this vital scene.
No one in the real world is perfect, and so characters shouldn’t be either. To seem as real as you or me, they should have flaws and strengths, and these sides of their personality should line up with who they are, how they were raised, and reflect the experiences they’ve had to date, good and bad.
While we develop our characters, however, we need to remember that flaws come with a tipping point. If we write someone with an overabundance of negative traits and behaviors that are a turnoff, the character will slide into unlikable territory. And yes, if the goal is to make a villain, antagonist, or other character loathsome, that’s fine–mission accomplished. But if we want readers to be on their side, too much surliness, negativity, secretiveness, or propensity for overblown reactions can cause a reader to disconnect.
Like a joke taken too far, it’s hard to claw an audience back once they’ve formed negative judgments, which is why we want to be careful and deliberate when showing our character’s negative side. Antiheroes tend to wear flaws more openly and can be semi-antagonistic as they battle the world’s constraints, so this line of likability is something to pay close attention to if we want readers to ultimately side with them. Here are some tips to help you.
How to Write Flawed Characters & Not Turn Readers Off
Show A Glimmer: no matter how impatient, uptight, or spoiled your character is, hint there’s more beneath the surface. A small action or internal observation can show the character in a positive light, especially when delivered in their first scene (frequently referred to as a Save the Cat moment.) It can be a positive quality, like a sense of humor, or a simple act that shows something redeeming about the character.
Imagine a man yelling at the old ladies crowding the hallway outside his apartment door as they pick up their friend Mabel for bingo, and then seeing him swear and fume at the chuggy elevator for making him late. Not the nicest guy, is he? But when Mr. Suit and Tie gets to his car outside, he stops to dig out a Ziploc bag of cat food and carefully roll down the edges into a makeshift bowl.
What? Here the guy seemed like an impatient jerk, but we discover part of his morning routine is to feed the local stray cat! Maybe he isn’t so bad after all. (Talk about a literal interpretation of “saving the cat.”)
Use POV Narrative for Insight: characters are flawed for a reason, namely negative experiences (wounds) which create flaws as an “emotional countermeasure.” Imagine a hero who stutters, and he was teased about it growing up. Even his parents encouraged him to “be seen and not heard” when they hosted parties and special events. Because of the emotional trauma (shame and anger) at being treated badly, he’s now uncommunicative and unfriendly as an adult. This type of backstory can be dribbled into narrative with care, as long as it’s active, has bearing on the current action, and is brief as to not slow the pace.
Create Big Obstacles: the goal is to create empathy as soon as possible, and one of the ways to do that is to show what the character is up against. If your character has a rough road ahead, the reader will make allowances for behavior, provide they don’t wallow and whine overmuch. After all, it isn’t hardship that creates empathy…it’s how a character behaves despite their hardship as that gives readers a window into who they really are.
Form a Balance: No character is all good or all bad. Give them a mix of positive traits (attributes) and negative traits (flaws) so they feel realistic, and ensure their negative traits contain a learning curve. For example, their negative traits may be good at keeping people and uncomfortable situations at a distance in the past, but in your story, they won’t help your character get what they want. Your character will have to see this for themselves, and it’ll only happen when that flawed behavior and way of thinking leads to poor judgment, mistakes, relationship friction, and other problems, the poor sap.
Eventually the character will see that they need to change up their behavioral playlist if they want to succeed, and this means letting go of the bad and embracing the good, opening their mind to a new way of thinking, behaving, and being. This is where their positives get to shine, so lay the foundation with qualities that may start in the background, but come forward and show them to be rounded, likable, and unique.
Of Special Concern: Your Story’s Baddies
It’s easy to give an antagonist flaws because your intent is to make readers dislike them, but even here, caution is needed. Hopelessly flawed antagonists make shallow characters and unworthy opponents, so we want to also give them strengths (like intelligence, meticulousness, dedication, and discipline, for example) to make them formidable and hard to beat.
This forces your protagonist to work their hardest, and in a match up, nothing is guaranteed. Being uncertain about the outcome of these story moments is what will hold the reader’s attention to the very end.
A common mistake I see in client manuscripts is a cast of secondary characters that simply exist to help or to outright block the protagonist. They’re either ready, willing, and able to drop everything to help that protagonist reach their own goal. Or they’re a character who is out to make the protagonist’s life hard for no logical reason.
Let’s face it. That’s not how real life works, as everyone has wants and needs of their own. Fictional secondary characters are no different. Their relationship with your protagonist should work like sandpaper, revealing internal growth your protagonist needs, or revealing their commitment to reaching their external goal. If we craft our secondary characters well, they should create a tug-of-war inside the reader. Readers should empathize with each secondary character’s inner motivation and struggle with who to primarily cheer for. This applies to antagonists every bit as much as it does to an ally. Conjuring empathy for each and every secondary character makes those characters more engaging, and it forces you as the writer to create the most compelling protagonist possible. Your protagonist’s desire to reach a particular goal fueled by unmet inner need will have to work that much harder to earn that top spot in reader’s hearts because you’ll have crafted compelling contenders, vying for that spot.
Let’s talk about three ways to achieve this…
They Must Have Their Own Inner Desire/External Goal
It helps to look at any given scene from the perspective of every secondary character you’ve included. If those characters are only on the page to help your protagonist achieve/block their goal, then it’s a missed opportunity. Secondary characters should consistently add tension to scenes—tension that grows your protagonist internally or externally. It’s far more interesting when we get a sense for what other characters want in a scene because we can gauge how that may help or harm what the protagonist wants.
Even if your secondary character is supporting your protagonist and aiming to reach the same external goal, their inner motivation shouldn’t be the same as any other character. What’s motivating each of your secondary characters? Does their motivation conjure empathy in the reader, even if we don’t support that end or we still cheer for the protagonist more? What’s the logic or backstory behind that secondary character’s motivation? Does your protagonist wrestle with the way even an antagonist presents logical motivation to them? Does your protagonist struggle seeing what their allies are giving up in order to support the protagonist’s end?
Tip: A secondary character cannot help or rescue your character without your character losing something they value.
The Secondary Character Must Challenge Your Protagonist in Some External And/Or Internal Way
If your secondary character is an ally or a romantic interest of your protagonist, we might not expect that they’re working like an antagonist, trying to thwart the protagonist’s success. Still, even allies and love interests should be working to grow the protagonist.
*Is that secondary character working like a mirror the protagonist doesn’t want to see themselves in?
*Are they asking hard questions about the protagonist’s hidden fears or motivations?
*Is the secondary character someone the protagonist wants to be like but they’re not ready or unable to accept that they’re never going to be that way?
*Are they asking more from your protagonist than the protagonist is ready to give?
*What does retaining that ally or love interest cost your protagonist?
*How does having that character’s help or support complicate things?
*Are they forcing your protagonist to look at backstory events from a different perspective?
*Forcing the protagonist to empathize with the motivation of any given antagonist?
Tip: The answers to these questions should not be the same for any two secondary characters. Each secondary character must challenge the protagonist differently in order to earn their keep.
Their Dialogue Can’t Solely Exist to Teach Your Character (And Reader) About The Story World
We’ve all heard it. Secondary characters saying things like, “As you know,” or sitting your character down to hand them the handbook on your story world. As much as possible, the dialogue and even the actions of your secondary characters should convey intent and a hint of their own inner world. The problem with dialogue that carries worldbuilding or stark plot-based information is that it oftentimes fails to reveal more to us about your protagonist or that secondary character. Worse yet, it leaves almost no room for the protagonist to respond with dialogue that conveys their own intent or emotion. Unless your protagonist has approached a secondary character with a very specific question that requires an answer containing information, try to think of secondary character dialogue as an opportunity to reveal their intent and emotion as much as possible. To challenge your protagonist.
Tip: Study every line of dialogue to see if you can attach an emotional “label” to it. You should be able to read the line and sense some primary emotional current running through the content. Anger, avoidance, relief, elation, etc. Emotions that are almost always red flags for weak dialogue are characters expressing awe or curiosity. Lines like, “Wow!” or, “What is that?” Those types of lines simply exist to set the other character up to talk at the other character/us more. If the line of dialogue doesn’t leave space for a response of some sort, then you know it’s not reaching its potential for adding tension.
What aspects of secondary character creation do you struggle with most? Do you find secondary characters easier to craft since the pressure isn’t as direct as it may be in crafting the protagonist? When you develop secondary characters, how do you bring them to life effectively?
We’ve covered many aspects of pain so far in this experience, such as the different categories of pain and how to write the discomfort associated with minor, major, and invisible injuries. All of this is helpful for identifying the pain your character will be feeling and helping you write it accurately. But how will your character sustain their injury?
If you’ve determined that pain is in your character’s future, you’ve got to then figure out how it will happen. The good news is that this can often be done organically through whatever they’re already doing. It’s just a matter of knowing which activities they’d be involved in and the locations they’re likely to visit. Get them there, and let the mishaps unfold.
Here are a few of the common causes for injuries and places where harm could naturally befall your character.
Household Accidents
It’s commonly known that many injuries occur in and around the home. This means your character’s living space can become a minefield of potential hazards. Moving heavy furniture, slipping in the shower or on slick floors, falling down stairs, cutting oneself while cooking, choking on food, fingers getting smashed in a drawer, getting zapped by a faulty electrical outlet…the possibilities, both serious and slight, are endless.
This is also true of incidents happening just outside the home. Your character could be injured while using faulty lawn equipment (or misusing perfectly good tools), tripping over uneven driveway pavers, being exposed to poison ivy, breathing noxious fumes from a DIY painting project, getting a splinter, or falling out of a tree.
Sometimes, the easiest solutions are the best ones. When it comes to injuries, there really is no place like home.
Workplace Injuries
The other place your character spends a lot of their time is at work, making it a logical place for bad things to happen. If your story calls for a certain kind of injury, consider a career for the character where it’s most likely to happen. Maybe a more dangerous occupation is in order, such as construction work, being a police officer, or working as an EMT in a hazardous area.
But even mundane office jobs can provide opportunities for a range of injuries—paper cuts, carpal tunnel, slips and falls, and back and neck pain from staring at a screen for hours, to name just a few. As a matter of fact, a physically painful event at work can spice up a boring day on the job. Just make sure it’s a natural fit so it doesn’t read as contrived.
Recreational Activities
What does your character do in their spare time? Could it be something that would incorporate the injury you need them to sustain? Maybe they’re an exercise enthusiast and enjoy running marathons, lifting weights, or some other way of pushing their body to its limits. Or they could be into extreme sports, like motocross, rock climbing, cave diving, or hang gliding. Even run-of-the-mill activities like hiking, jogging, fishing, hunting, and playing pickleball can end painfully given the right (or wrong) circumstances.
Transportation Accidents
When your character leaves home, some form of transportation is going to get them to their destination. Whether they’re in an isolated area or are surrounded by other people who are also getting from here to there, there are many opportunities for harm to befall them. Car accidents, falling off a bike, suffering a heart attack while riding the city bus, being hit while walking as a pedestrian, difficulties driving in other countries where the traffic laws are unfamiliar…so many possibilities.
Weather Events
Wherever your character lives, they’re going to encounter different kinds of weather that can impact their safety. Slippery roads and icy streets can make accidents and falls more likely. Heavy fog, rain, and snow will decrease visibility. High winds can cause tree limbs to fall, crushing buildings or blocking roadways and causing hazards. And then you have extreme weather—tornadoes, earthquakes, hurricanes, lightning strikes, and hailstorms. The latter are much more dramatic, so you’ll have to lay that groundwork carefully. Make sure your character is living in an area where these threats are real. And use enough foreshadowing to inform readers of the danger so when it happens, it rings true.
Animal Injuries
As much as we love our pets, they can inadvertently be a source of pain. For instance, we know how dangerous it is when an elderly person falls and breaks a hip. What you may not know is that one of the main reasons the elderly fall is because they’ve tripped over a pet. Sustaining an injury while walking the dog is also common, along with the garden-variety scratches, nips, and bites that may occur. It’s also easy to be hurt while trying to help a wounded or scared pet.
But domesticated animals aren’t the only ones your character needs to be careful with. Consider the altercations they might have with animals of the wilder sort: insect stings, snake and spider bites, or being bitten by a tick and incurring the chronic effects of Lyme disease. Is your character the reckless sort that might try to hand-feed a raccoon in the backyard or get a selfie with a bison at Yellowstone? They’re likely to get more than they bargained for.
Physical Violence
Sometimes harm occurs from other human beings, and it’s not always intentional. Being bumped on the street, elbowed in the mouth, knocked down in a crowd, slammed in a concert mosh pit, roughhousing with the kids—there are many ways someone could accidentally injure your character. And then there are deliberate acts of violence in the form of an attack, mugging, bullying, or domestic abuse.
This is a short list, really, of the ordinary ways your character could be injured just going about their day. It’s definitely not exhaustive but hopefully provides some ideas for how you can naturally incorporate the painful events your story needs in ways that are natural and seamless.
Are you enjoying this series on writing your character’s pain? That’s a weird and slightly sadistic statement—even more so when we say how much we’ve enjoyed writing about pain. But it’s one of those things your character IS going to encounter; it’s not a matter of if, but when (and how often). So we need to be able to write it well.
We’ve covered a lot of ground, from the 3 stages of awareness to the symptoms of minor, mortal, and invisible injuries. But regardless of the kind of pain your character is feeling, there are certain practices that will enhance your descriptions of it to maximize reader empathy and minimize their chances of being pulled out of the story.
Show Don’t Tell
This one comes first, because if you want to create evocative and compelling descriptions, showing is the way to do it. Take this passage, for example:
Pain throbbed in my wrist. It radiated into my fingers. Tears sprang to my eyes.
On the surface, this description gets the job done because it adequately describes the character’s pain. But it’s not engaging. Lists seldom are—yet this is how pain is often described, as a series of symptoms or sensations. This isn’t how real pain registers, so it being described this way won’t read as authentic to readers.
Don’t stop the story to talk about what the character’s feeling. Instead, incorporate it into what’s happening. This keeps the pace moving and readers reading:
Cradling my throbbing wrist, I searched for the rope and loosed it from my belt. I drew a shuddering breath of relief to discover my fingers still worked, though the pain had me biting nearly through my lip.
This description is much better because it reveals the pain in bits and bobs as the character is going about her business. It uses words that describe the intensity and quality of the pain: throbbing and shuddering. There’s also a thought included, which is important because when agony strikes, our brains don’t stop working. The opposite is actually true, with our thoughts often going into overdrive. So including a thought that references the character’s mental state or physical discomfort is another way to show their pain to readers in an organic way.
Take Personal Factors into Account
The character’s pain level and intensity will depend on a number of factors, such as their pain tolerance, their personality, and what else is going on in the moment. Being aware of these details and knowing what they look like for your character is key for tailoring a response that is authentic for them. For more information on the factors that will determine your character’s pain response and their ability to cope with their discomfort, see the 6th post in this series.
Adhere to Your Chosen Point of View
Whether you’re telling your story in first person, third person, or omniscient viewpoint, consistency is a must, so you’ve got to stick to that point of view. If the person in pain is the one narrating, you can go deep into their perspective to show readers what’s happening inside—the pain, yes, but also the nausea, tense muscles, and the spots that appear in the character’s vision as they start to black out.
But if the victim isn’t a viewpoint character—if the reader isn’t privy to what’s happening inside their heads and bodies—you’ll need be true to that choice. Stick with external indicators that are visible to others, such as the character wincing, the hissed intake of breath through clenched teeth, the weeping of blood, or the skin going white and clammy.
Consider the Intensity of the Pain
All pain isn’t created equal, and the intensity of the pain being described will often determine the level of detail. Excruciating, agonizing pain is going to be impossible for the character to ignore; because of their focus on their own pain, more description is often necessary. On the flip side, a lot of words aren’t needed to express the mild, fleeting pain of a stubbed toe or bruised knee. The severity of the pain can guide you toward the right amount of description.
Don’t Forget about It
Remember that pain has a life of its own. Some injuries heal fast, with the pain receding quickly and steadily. Others linger. Many times, healing is a one-step-forward-two-steps-back situation, with things seeming to improve, then a relapse or reinjury causing a setback. And then there’s chronic pain, which never fully goes away.
The nature of the injury will dictate how often you return to the character’s pain and remind readers of it. Minor injuries can fade into the background without further mention. But moderate and severe hurts will take time to heal. This means your character will be feeling the pain well after it began, and you’ll have to mention it again. But when you do, the quality and intensity will be less, and your description will follow suit.
Be Realistic
In serious cases, your character’s pain will become limiting; they won’t be able to do the things they could when they were unscathed. But we see unrealistic practices surrounding pain and wounds all the time in fiction. The hero’s shoulder is dislocated, he knocks it gamely back in place, then goes running after the villain. Maybe he’s grimacing and grunting, but two pages later, he’s duking it out without any mention of the injury or the pain that activity would cause.
Don’t let pain unintentionally turn your hero into a superhero. Keep them real and relatable, which is easy to do with some basic planning. If you know they’re going to be injured in a scene, ask yourself: what physical activity will be happening afterward? Then plan accordingly.
Maybe you tailor their injury so it puts them in distress but allows them to do what they need to do. Or, if a severe injury is necessary, you might rearrange your scenes so the character is able to heal up before encountering any serious physical activity. Another option is to let them tackle the active moment following a painful incident, but show their limitations. Show them struggling and having to compensate. The important thing is to keep their physical abilities in the wake of an injury realistic so readers don’t call Bullcrap and start thinking about what’s wrong with the story.
The Complete Pain Series
And with that, this series is a wrap. Hopefully these posts have provided some solid information and practical advice on how to write your character’s pain effectively. In case you missed any of the installments, I’ve listed them here, for easy reference.
When we put characters in dangerous or unfamiliar situations, they can get hurt, and when they do, things become harder to do. Injuries can mean reduced mobility, pain makes it difficult to think clearly, or something they must do (win a fight, escape a threat, or be independent, for example) may become all but impossible.
Injuries and pain can cause an array of problems, generating tension and conflict. Readers also tend to become more invested when something happens to a character, either because they care and want them to be okay, or readers feel a rush of schadenfreude because a nasty character is finally getting what they deserve.
A writer’s mindset is all about How can I make things more difficult for this character? so it can be tempting to pile on the injuries and pain, but this isn’t always a good strategy. Too many ouchies and a protagonist won’t be able to continue their quest, meaning they can’t logically achieve an important goal (unless the author manufactures a ‘Hail Mary rescue’ that will feel contrived). Or, if injuries are piling up like a serial killer’s body count, readers might get angry and feel the author is going too far. So we really want to find the sweet spot of making things hard, not impossible for the character.
When you need to make life challenging, rather than adding new injuries, a better option may be to add a complication.
In the right circumstances, even a small injury can cause big problems. Cuts get infected. Bites may be poisonous. A blister can make it hard to run fast enough to escape. Complications are not only realistic, they raise the stakes and make readers worry, generating tension.
How to take an injury from bad to worse
Being unable to treat the injury. Some problems require medical intervention, but that doesn’t mean your character can access help. They might be on a remote hiking trail, in the middle of a farmer’s field, or simply unable to go to the hospital because if they do, it will alert the authorities. When a character can’t get the help they need, this not only ramps up the pain, it ramps up the consequences.
An underlying condition. Does your character have a clotting disorder that means a cut on their thigh won’t close? Are they being treated for an illness that leaves them fatigued? Will that concussion re-awaken difficult side effects caused by a previous traumatic brain injury? When you want to make an injury more complicated and particularly dangerous for a character, think about what underlying conditions or illnesses they may have that will make it harder to function.
Infection. Your story doesn’t need to be in the middle of a Zombie Apocalypse to cause characters to worry about viruses. Wounds exposed to the wrong conditions can cause fever or delirium, compromising your character’s ability to function and make rational decisions. Untreated, infection can lead to blood poisoning, gangrene, or even flesh-eating disease. Yikes.
Reduced mobility. If your character breaks a bone or injures their back, they may be unable to move on their own. This can put a strain on others who must step in to help, causing delays or forcing them to expend energy they need for other things. If your character is on their own, say with a broken leg at the bottom of an embankment, an inability to move much will become a crisis if they cannot source food, water, or find help. Sitting or laying prone too long can also increase blood flow related issues, making injuries worse and healing slower.
Muscle tears or nerve damage. A bike accident, overdoing it at the gym, or a pell-mell flight from a pack of wild dogs can mean more than bruises. A muscle tear or nerve damage can affect mobility and dexterity, and generate high levels of pain. These injuries take time to heal, and sometimes require special treatments or even surgery. So think carefully about how this type of complication might play out in the story. Your character might be damaged in a way that their recovery may not fit the timeline for conflict resolution.
Scar tissue. Everyone has a few scars, but what if your character’s reduces function in some way, or even disfigures them? What will this mean as far as their dexterity and range of movement, or how other people view them? Will it close doors because they’ve lost their edge as far as a skill goes, or reveal a lack of depth in their relationships because people can’t accept this change?
Extreme swelling. Injuries cause tissue to swell, and if this happens to a body part that is confined somehow (a swollen foot stuck in a boot, or a wedding ring cutting off circulation due to a broken finger), it can cause intense pain and the need for intervention to avoid losing the limb.
Improper healing. Sometimes a character can’t get help when they need it, and the injury starts to heal in a way that is less than ideal. Bones may not be fully aligned as they knit together, causing a limp or malformation. A deep cut that can’t be stitched in time can lead to an ugly scar, loss of sensation, and reduced function.
Fears or phobias being triggered. Characters who have suffered past trauma may have their deepest fears awakened when an injury occurs, especially if they are reminded of that painful experience. Or a phobia of doctors, hospitals, dying, or another fear can make them resistant to being treated.
Addictions. A character in recovery will not want to risk medication that could trigger a relapse. Instead, they may have to bear extreme levels of pain to stay drug free, or have no choice but to have drugs in their system so a surgery can be performed, or an infection is stopped before it can spread.
Making the injury worse. When there’s danger present or a character is faced with a ticking clock, they can’t take it easy. A strain the character must ignore to escape a threat can become worse if it isn’t treated. Over time, increased fatigue or reduced strength will make a character unstable and more prone to additional injuries, too.
Ideally, injuries should push characters to think of creative solutions to their problems.
When they do, it makes for great reading. Too, characters who don’t give up (even though they may want to) are the ones readers admire most!
We know that pain is an unfortunate part of life. And if you’re doing your job as an author, your character will be put through the wringer, experiencing many painful events—big and small—throughout their story. We’ve talked about the kinds of physical pain they could encounter and how to describe that. But how will your character respond to their pain?
Much like a fingerprint, each person’s pain response is unique. It will be determined by a combination of factors—some that are controllable and some that aren’t. Remember, it’s the character that will draw readers in and keep them engaged, but only if their reactions are believable and consistent. So it’s imperative to know the most sensible responses for your character.
Passive Factors
There are many ways a character can react to physical discomfort, and a lot of them will be subconscious. Their ability to handle their pain will be based on some passive factors that are out of their control and are already running in the background when things go south. Because these factors will dictate your character’s pain response, it’s important to familiarize yourself with them and know what they look like for your character.
Pain Tolerance
This is defined as the maximum amount of physical suffering a person can handle. The higher your character’s pain tolerance, the more they’ll be able to withstand the discomfort they experience. This threshold varies from one person to the next and is established by a number of variables, such as genetics, past experiences with pain, and how much stress the character is dealing with when adversity strikes.
Personality
Your character’s values and dominant traits will play a part in how they respond to pain. Just think about the natural reactions you’ll get from different kinds of characters: melodramatic vs. stoic vs. needy vs. someone who’s always playing the martyr… The traits and qualities your character values will play a large part in how they handle discomfort, so take those into consideration.
Imperative Responsibilities
If the circumstances surrounding their pain are simple, the character’s response can be straightforward. For instance, if they tumble down a flight of stairs with a roommate nearby, they can focus on their physical state and what to do next. But what if they fell, alone, trying to get upstairs to a crying baby? What if they’re a federal agent who was attempting to neutralize a sniper who is now free to keep shooting?
When an injury threatens the well-being of others or keeps the character from an imperative duty, they may be able to ignore or minimize their pain until they’ve accomplished what needs doing. On the flip side, becoming incapacitated while others are in danger may actually worsen the pain.
Pharmacological Factors
Alcohol, medications, and illegal drugs obviously dull pain. This is why drunk drivers can gravely injure themselves in a car accident and walk away without feeling much of anything. If your character is wounded while they’re under the influence, this will impact what they feel and how they react.
Responses That Help Control Pain in the Moment
Now that we’ve had a look at the latent factors that contribute to a character’s pain response, let’s turn our focus to active reactions, starting with those that are most helpful in controlling and lessening discomfort—both in the moment and in the aftermath of a painful event.
Maintaining a Positive Mindset
Positive thinking keeps the character in a forward-focused mindset, concentrating on what can be done and what actions to take. It engenders a sense of empowerment and control as they work toward solutions and betterment. A positive mindset also reduces stress and anxiety, which are known to make pain worse.
Utilizing Mind-Body Techniques
These techniques allow the character use the mind to positively influence the body. Meditation, prayer, relaxation techniques, and deep breathing exercises can mitigate pain and help the character become more centered and calm.
Distracting Themselves
In the midst of even a minor injury, the pain won’t go away completely. Sometimes, the best thing a character can do is to focus on something else. Exercises such as mentally preparing a grocery list or summarizing the storyline of a favorite movie can be beneficial in taking the mind off the pain. If the injury allows, the character can also engage in a distracting hobby. Reading a book, working on a puzzle, or playing a game won’t negate the pain, but activities like these can push it into the background and make it less intense.
Responses That Help Control Pain During Recovery
Pursuing a Healthy Lifestyle
Physically healthy bodies heal faster, with a quicker secession of pain. To this end, making nutritious food choices, prioritizing sleep, and reducing stress can improve the character’s overall health and aid in pain management. Exercise is another important factor because while it makes the body stronger and especially helps to manage ongoing discomfort, it also releases endorphins, which can have a pain-relieving effect.
Educating and Self-Advocating
Healthcare providers are wonderful resources, but they don’t know everything. A character who researches their own injuries and physical limitations will increase their knowledge and likely find new treatment options. This form of self-advocacy can result in a sense of empowerment, staving off despair, depression, and hopelessness.
Volunteering and Altruism
When pain is ongoing and/or intense, it’s often more comfortable to stay at home and avoid the activities that aggravate it. But studies show that when we shift our focus from ourselves to others, amazing things happen with our mindset and our outlook on life. In this way, volunteering and serving others can have a mitigating effect on pain. At the very least, acts of altruism can make physical discomfort more bearable as the character finds a greater sense of purpose.
Attending Therapy
Therapy is a magical tool for helping people find better ways of dealing with their problems. For a character trying to cope with pain, a therapist can provide great insight into the mental and emotional processes that can be adopted to minimize the discomfort or put into a proper perspective.
Responses that Hinder Pain Mitigation in the Moment
For every positive reaction, there are a multitude of negative responses that hinder rather than help. It’s easy for people in pain to resort to whatever works to make it go away. But many of these methods are only temporary or create ancillary problems. Here are some common pain responses that will thwart your character’s healing and possibly make their situation worse.
Focusing on the Negative
For someone battling ongoing or intense discomfort, it’s easy to fall into negative thinking by becoming obsessed with the pain, catastrophizing, and becoming cynical. But just as positive thinking has positive benefits, negative thinking begets negative outcomes in the form of increased anxiety and depression, and decreased motivation and self-worth—all of which make healing harder.
Hiding the Pain
People often aren’t comfortable expressing their pain—maybe because it occurred in public and they’re embarrassed or don’t want people to fuss over them. They might need to be strong if they’re with their kids or in a position of authority. Or they could be worried about consequences, such as losing a starting spot on a sports team if they can’t perform. There are many reasons why someone might choose to mask their pain, so it’s worthwhile exploring those possibilities.
Not Seeking Help
While many people run to the doctor when pain sets in, there are some characters who will avoid treatment. This may be true for someone who
Is in denial about their condition
Is highly independent and doesn’t want to rely on others for help
Cares deeply about what others think and doesn’t want to appear weak
Refusing to seek treatment or get help won’t expedite healing and the cessation of pain. It also can make a minor injury worse if treatment is needed.
Responses that Hinder Pain Mitigation During Recovery
Making Unhealthy Choices
Just as healthy habits can encourage healing and minimize pain, an unhealthy lifestyle often does the opposite. Responding to pain by taking up smoking, compulsively eating, or turning to drugs and alcohol can aggravate existing conditions (and the associated pain) or create new health issues that will make life even more difficult.
Being Driven by Fear and Avoidance
If your character is struggling with a high level of discomfort, it’s normal for them to avoid any activities that might make it worse. But ongoing avoidance often results in a sedentary lifestyle that can actually increase someone’s sensitivity to pain, achieving the opposite result.
Having Unrealistic Expectations
In some situations, people will be living with a certain level of pain for the rest of their lives. The discomfort can be managed, but only if the character’s expectations are realistic. Hoping for an impossible outcome, such as a complete recovery with no more pain, will result in disappointment and an inability to recognize and appreciate small gains.
As you can see, there are many factors that can impact a character’s pain response. Some of the groundwork will be laid before the injury occurs, and other reactions are more controllable. Knowing the possibilities can help you choose the right responses for your character, both at the time of injury and in the aftermath.
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