The Emotional Wound Thesaurus: A Writer's Guide to Psychological Trauma

by Becca Puglisi

  This mechanism can also manifest when the character reverts for extended periods of time. This can be seen when an adult woman regresses by dressing the way she did as a young girl, such as when she was in college or even elementary school. In this situation, the behavior itself is so obviously abnormal that it points to something serious at the root of her problem.

  Dissociation is a state of feeling disconnected from one’s body, emotions, or the world at large. This separation is a means of protecting oneself from unwanted feelings or triggers that are associated with a wounding event. In severe cases, the person exists in a constant state of dissociation, which can be especially bad because she’s living in an ongoing rejection of what’s real.

  For storytelling purposes, it can be helpful to show the character dissociating—disengaging mentally or emotionally, even to the point of feeling as if she’s floating outside of her body and watching things happen—in the presence of certain triggers or circumstances. Someone who was raped may dissociate when having sex, pulling away from what should be a desirable act because she wants to avoid the emotions and memories it unearths.

  Another way to show this mechanism is through memory loss; if your character can’t recall certain periods of time from the past, this can indicate that she’s protecting herself from a painful memory or event.

  Projection occurs when a character attributes undesirable traits, attitudes, or motives to someone else. This mechanism allows the character to avoid or deny the things about herself that she doesn’t like. For instance, a teenager who was verbally abused by a caregiver may turn those hurtful slurs on a friend, calling her stupid, ugly, slutty, or weak. By applying these labels to someone else, the character separates them from herself. The truth or falsehood of the accusations are inconsequential. If she convinces herself that these labels are accurate for her friend, she can feel better in comparison.

  It’s important to remember that, to some degree, most people project. This doesn’t mean they have a problem that needs addressing. In the case of your character, you’ll want to show her doing this with triggers directly related to the wounding event; with consistency, readers will see that something isn’t quite right. Be careful, though, not to make the character’s projection so strong as to turn readers off. Balance it with other elements that will generate reader empathy.

  Displacement is the act of someone turning their emotions or responses away from the person they’re directed at and putting them onto someone else. Consider a character who witnessed his sibling being physically abused as a child. Growing up in such a household, he might have had trouble expressing feelings of anger toward his dad because he was afraid of retribution. Even as an adult, when he feels rage building for his father, he might take his anger out on someone “safer,” such as a co-worker, spouse, child, or even the family pet. When readers see a character consistently redirecting certain feelings away from one person, they’ll know that dysfunction exists between the two, and something significant is at the root of it.

  Repression occurs when someone subconsciously rejects certain actions, thoughts, or feelings (as was explored in the earlier section on Denied Emotions). They refuse to entertain or even acknowledge that whatever they wish to avoid exists. In severe cases, whole memories may be repressed or changed to reflect something other than the truth. By showing your character constantly avoiding mentions of certain moments from the past or remembering things differently than everyone else, you can reveal, little by little, that this event is at the crux of their issues.

  Compensation is the act of striving to prove to others and oneself that a real or perceived weakness doesn’t exist. In relation to wounds, it’s used to make up for a deficiency the character believes he exhibited during the event or to regain something he lost because of it. This is usually accomplished by overemphasizing certain qualities, abilities, or physical characteristics to prove strength in the less-than-perfect area. For example, a boy who was bullied for being weak may grow up with a fierce desire to prove his physical prowess—living at the gym, entering bodybuilding competitions, competing in combat sports, or taking steroids.

  As with most mechanisms, this can only work if you’re able to show readers the change that has occurred. Even if your character is this way at the start of the story, you can show his former self through flashbacks, memories, dialogue, old pictures, and other clues. Readers will either recognize how the wound has affected him or wonder what could have happened to bring about such a change.

  The human psyche is the original mama bear, sniffing out potential threats and using a variety of methods to protect the mind, body, and spirit. Additional defense mechanisms exist, but for purposes of length, we chose to focus on the most common ones that are the easiest to write into a story. What’s important to remember is that most people use a healthy combination of these responses in everyday life. But in relation to wounding events, especially ones the character hasn’t fully come to grips with, the mechanisms outlined here can be used to show his blind spots, what frightens him, and how the trauma (even if it has not yet been revealed) impacts him. To keep things clear for readers, it’s best to pick one of these reactions and show your character utilizing it consistently. Applying it to the event or the person associated with it will tie everything together, helping the reader to connect the dots.

  Showing the incident through your character’s behavior is important because it allows you to reveal it a bit at a time in a way that appeals to readers. It also emphasizes the wound’s stifling weight, as readers see the impact it continues to have regardless of how much time has elapsed. As the story progresses, the character’s fears, triggers, avoidances, defense mechanisms, and other responses will reinforce to readers that this isn’t simply an isolated event from the past; it’s a debilitating memory that continues to haunt the character years later, into the present.

  PROBLEMS TO AVOID

  Every aspect of storytelling has its problem areas, and the writing of emotional wounds is no exception. As you work through your character’s past trauma, keep an eye out for the following pitfalls and use the advice here to avoid them.

  PROBLEM #1: INFO DUMPS

  An info dump occurs when the author interrupts the flow of the story to impart information via a chunk of narrative or exposition. This trap is particularly common when the author believes it’s necessary to reveal backstory, especially in the opening pages. But large passages of exposition are undesirable on a number of levels. Info dumps are a form of telling because readers are forced into the passive role of listening to the author relate what has happened instead of being able to experience it along with the protagonist. Not only does this create distance between the reader and the character—with empathy being sacrificed as a result—it kills the pace.

  Every author falls into the info dump trap at some point. The good news is that evading it becomes easier with time and practice. In the case of your character’s wound, if you find yourself using an info dump to describe it, rewrite the passage using the following techniques.

  Narrow It Down

  One thing to keep in mind about the protagonist’s (and possibly the antagonist’s) wounding experience is that while it’s necessary for your reader to know, it’s still backstory. Showing this event in its entirety can be risky because you’re either using a flashback and pulling readers out of the world they’ve become invested in, or you’re slowing the pace with a lengthy passage of dialogue or inner reflection.

  To keep readers engaged, take a good look at the entire event and figure out how you can shrink it down to its essence. Though you may know every possible thing about it, not all those details need to be shared. Ask yourself: What does my reader absolutely need to know about this? Which details are going to have the most impact? If you can weed out data that isn’t critical, you can reduce the word count so the episode doesn’t drag on and stop the story in its tracks.

  Vary Your Techniques

  Too much of a good thing
typically isn’t a good thing. For this reason, using a variety of techniques to share information about the wounding event is an effective way to keep your storytelling fresh. Utilizing a trigger and the overwhelming emotions that follow can break up a passage of dialogue that could easily become stagnant. Consistently showing a character’s obsession or preferred defense mechanism is another way of painting the overall picture without always falling back on conversations or memories.

  As an example of how to bring multiple techniques together, consider the following passage.

  Sara poured sugar in her coffee and stirred, the clink of the spoon melodic against the cozy murmur of voices from neighboring tables. Sunlit, with a breeze coming off the water, the outdoor café was so peaceful this time of day—before the high school kids took it over.

  “I like this place,” Mom said, blowing on her tea. “It reminds me of where I used to go as a girl.”

  Sara smiled and leaned back, the wooden seat slats warming her skin. “The place with the éclairs?”

  “Mmmm. That’s the one.” Mom took a sip, then her eyebrows shot up. “Oh, a friend of yours showed up at Mass on Sunday. Annemarie? Marybeth?” She shook her head. “Something with two names.”

  Sara jerked, dousing her hand in hot coffee. She set the cup down with a clatter and shrugged. Don’t know who you mean.

  “My memory these days—I swear.” Mom sighed. “She said you two worked together last summer during your internship.”

  Sara met her mother’s gaze, which showed curiosity instead of the horror that would be there if she knew the truth.

  “Doesn’t ring a bell.” Sara grabbed the check. “’I’ll get this. Hey, how’s your yoga class going?”

  Here we see various methods being employed to show (rather than tell) the haunting event from Sara’s past. Dialogue is used to impart information about the mysterious girl. Her name acts as a trigger, elevating Sara’s emotions and eliciting a flight response as she prematurely wraps up her outing. We also see avoidance through the way she clams up then changes the subject. Lastly, not everything is revealed at once; a tiny piece of the puzzle is shown here—one that will be added to others as the story goes on until the full picture is realized.

  This is an example of how you might disclose details about the wounding event in a compelling way without hindering the pace. Not only are these tips helpful for educating the reader about what has happened, they’re good for “showing” in general, regardless of what you need to get across.

  PROBLEM #2: POORLY STAGED FLASHBACKS

  A flashback can be very effective at revealing the wounding situation because the reader sees it play out as if it’s happening in real time, even when it’s not. But proper placement of this device is key, because while a flashback is an active scene, it still is pulling the reader out of the current timeline and into one that has already passed.

  Problems also arise if a flashback comes too soon in the story; readers have only started to become invested in the character’s narrative, and if the focus suddenly shifts to the past it may be an unwelcome disruption, as they want to get back to the tale they’ve become immersed in.

  Where, then, should a flashback occur so it’s best received by your audience? Ideally, you want a landing spot that ties in with a critical scene and affects the character’s emotional state. When the flashback relates to what’s happening now, it feels like less of an interruption because the current action and the past event are clearly connected. If it also impacts the character’s feelings, it has a greater chance of engaging the reader’s emotions, which will keep them more involved.

  In Minority Report, John Anderton is a drug-addicted cop whose marriage has recently fallen apart. We know from clues and bits of dialogue that he once had a son, but we’re not clear on what happened to him. After being accused of a crime and going on the run, Anderton undergoes a risky surgery that will help him escape detection long enough to prove his innocence. It is during his recovery, when he’s alone, his eyes are bandaged shut, and he’s in a drug-induced stupor that the wounding moment is finally revealed: his son’s abduction from a public pool while in Anderton’s care.

  This is an example of how poignant the reveal can be when it’s shown through a well-placed flashback. Anderton’s wound is disclosed when he is at his most vulnerable; when we think he’s at his weakest, we see how truly broken he is. It’s tied in with his current narrative in a way that keeps readers interested because the authorities are closing in, yet Anderton is oblivious as he relives this haunting moment from the past. Thoughtfully placing a flashback in this way makes the reveal seamless and puts readers in a position of being eager to know what will come next.

  Whenever a wounding event is shown in its entirety, it’s also important to keep in mind the effect it could have on your audience. Traumas that are intensely personal or violent have a greater chance of triggering readers who have experienced them. One way to minimize this possibility is to provide clues early on; this will hint at what’s coming, and when the event is disclosed, readers will be prepared and can skip ahead or skim through it, if necessary. The scene can also be written from a limited or more distant viewpoint (rather than a deep point of view that pulls readers in super-close), which allows them to stand farther back from what’s happening and feel as if they’re viewing it from a safer place.

  PROBLEM #3: MISUSED PROLOGUES

  Prologues are second-class citizens in the literary world—mostly because they’re overused or done poorly. To make yours the best it can be, take the following advice into consideration.

  Make Sure It’s Necessary

  The prologue’s purpose is almost always to convey information of some kind: the history of a people or region, the rise to power of a person who will influence the cast, a cataclysmic event that sets the stage for the current-day story, or—for the purpose of this discussion—a character’s wounding event. Doing this at the very start of the story can create issues for readers who don’t want to be fed a bunch of information up front; they just want to jump into the story and get to know the cast of characters they’ll be spending the bulk of their time with. So the first order of business if you’re considering using a prologue to reveal your character’s wound is to be certain that it’s needed. Ask yourself: Can the wounding event be shown later in the story? Why does the reader need to know this information right now? Pushing the reveal to a later point allows you to jump right into your character’s current story—the one the reader wants to dive into.

  Build Empathy Quickly

  As with any story opening, the prologue has to hook readers. And don’t make the mistake of thinking that your character’s traumatic past will be enough to pull them in. Empathy isn’t formed by a wounding event; it’s formed when the reader cares about who the event is happening to. Building that bond takes time. The reader needs to be fully on the character’s side before anything major happens, and with a prologue, you have significantly fewer pages to bring that about.

  One way to speed up the process is to focus on things that build empathy: your character’s likable or admirable traits, vulnerability, and positive actions. When you can bring out these aspects right away, the empathy bond is encouraged, so when that horrible thing happens a few pages later, readers will be engaged. A solid bond can be pivotal in carrying the audience through the transition from the prologue to the next chapter.

  Avoid Clunky Temporal Shifts

  Because readers don’t always pay attention to chapter headings, they may not notice they’re starting with a prologue. They become deeply invested in the main players and what’s happening in that scene, and when there’s an unexpected lurch into the next chapter, it’s jarring. One way to inform readers of the change is to start the first chapter by announcing the new date or proclaiming how much time has passed: Fifteen Years Later. This shows the jump in time, but it isn’t smooth; it shouts to readers that the next passage is going to be vastly different than the one they’ve just
finished.

  On its own, an abrupt shift in time won’t kill a prologue, but it can contribute to it not being well received. A subtle smoothing of this transition can greatly improve the reader’s experience. Author Ruta Sepetys does this beautifully at the end of her Out Of the Easy prologue by referencing within the story how much time will pass before the next chapter. Mentioning the passage of time in this way gives authors the opportunity to build interest and make readers want to turn that page.

  Here are some examples of how the change in time can be slipped into the story as the prologue comes to a close:

  They said that with therapy I’d be walking again in three months. But by the close of 2020, I was still stuck in that chair.

  It would be fifteen years before their paths would cross again.

  I was sure Jack would forgive me, but it took forty-three long years before my second chance came.

  Another way to smooth the transition between the prologue and what follows is to stick with the same setting for both scenes. The location will connect the two, acting as a bridge for readers. There will be changes, and referencing those differences will show a jump in time, but it will be less jarring if the background is familiar.

  PROBLEM #4: WOUNDS THAT AREN’T CREDIBLE

  Sometimes even a well-researched wound falls flat when it’s revealed. The reader can’t buy into it or doesn’t respond favorably to it. To make sure your character’s wounding event has maximum impact, confirm that it meets the following criteria.