Today I’m partaking in a mini blog series with Juliana L. Brandt and Lauren Spieller—writing pain in fiction. Together we've created the Pain Lexicon, which provides a sort
of thesaurus for strong words to denote pain. (Because sometimes “that hurts”
and “this was painful” just don’t cut it.)
It’s crucial to give painful moments in a book, whether
physically or emotionally charged, solid descriptions to relay them to readers.
While we certainly don’t want readers’ eyes to start bleeding as they peruse a story,
we do want readers to feel something.
We’ve all read those books that make us hurt inside, and it’s those books that
we dedicate our time and devotion to.
When it comes to pain, I really want to get the sensations
across—I want to describe exactly what it feels like internally and externally,
and I want to hit familiar cues with the reader. If they’ve felt similar pain,
I want them to think Yes, I remember that.
If they haven’t, I want them to think they have. At the same time, I want to
steer clear of clichés.
Let’s start with physical pain; I’ll make the physical the
main focus of my “scene.” People are always being stabbed in books, right?
Let’s make that the starting point:
He took the steak
knife and stabbed me in the shoulder.
Ouch. Those are serrated, too.
Now, using the Pain Lexicon as a help-meet, I’m going to add
some detail:
He took the rusty
steak knife and jammed it into my shoulder, digging into the chapped, cracking
skin of my burn.
Now I’ll extend the scene a little and drive to up the “pain
stakes,” again leaning on the Pain Lexicon for support:
Paul slammed into me
from the side. My feet skidded over the wet tiles and we crashed into the table
and fell into a tangled heap on the floor. He took the rusty steak knife and
jammed it into my shoulder, digging into the chapped, cracking skin of my burn.
The thin blade bent back and forth in my muscle, ripping and clawing as he
yanked it free. I screamed, feeling tendons tear like the wet cords binding a
roast. My own blood bit me like acid, but I couldn’t wrench myself free.
Finally, though this is a passage describing physical pain,
I want to throw in some emotional pain too, since pain is never entirely
one-sided. Since this isn’t attached to any existing story, I can just make it
up:
Paul stepped into the
light, revealing himself. I had only a moment to register his face before he
slammed into me from the side. My feet skid over the wet tiles and we crashed
into the table, falling into a tangled heap on the floor.
Paul?
Air wheezed from my
lungs. My head banged against the table leg. The jolt gave me a moment of
clarity.
Not Paul. Anyone but
Paul.
The first tear didn’t
have a chance to slip over the corner of my eye. He hefted the rusty steak
knife and jammed it into my shoulder, digging into the chapped, cracking skin
of my burn. The thin blade bent back and forth in my muscle, ripping and clawing
as he yanked it free. I screamed, feeling tendons tear like the wet cords
binding a roast. The tip of that blade pierced my very center, a venomous
tongue licking away the final grains of hope residing there.
My own blood bit me
like acid, but I couldn’t wrench myself free. Though he held the bloody blade
over me, I couldn’t connect his hand to the handle. My disjointed thoughts
throbbed in time with my shoulder.
Paul. I had no one
left.
Regardless of the pain emphasis, both pains should be present.
A man fighting for his life should feel something emotional—desperation,
hatred, fear. A woman nursing a broken heart will feel something
physical—pressure, soreness, rawness. Emphasizing both in a pain-filled scene
will help readers emphasize with the characters and their situation, and help
the moment come alive.
A few other tips:
- Find someone who has had a similar injury to what you’re trying to write and interview them (I did this once when my protagonist broke his collar bone).
- Jot down what thoughts might go through the character’s head when he is in pain. You don’t have to voice all of them in text, but it will give you a good vantage point to what he’s experiencing.
- Don’t forget pain. If you’re character gets beaten up in chapter three, she’ll still be feeling it in chapter four. You don’t have to dwell on it, but most pain worth writing about is not fleeting.
- Feel free to throw in metaphors. Sometimes the best way to relate a sensation is through comparison.
I also recommend checking out The Emotion Thesaurus—it’s a great reference book for emotional
pain.
For more on the Pain Lexicon, check out Juliana's Show vs. Tell: The Pain Lexicon and Lauren's post The Pain Lexicon: Let's Make It Hurt.
What tactics do you
use to describe pain? What books or passages have you read that conveyed pain
from page to person?
I like to emphasize the emotional reaction to the physical pain, with barer description of the things that caused the physical pain. The visceral approach is one of my favorites, especially for flash.
ReplyDeleteAwesome examples. I especially liked the comparison to the cords about a roast- yucky, but I imagine, pretty accurate! And I totally asked a guy that came into my work once about his fingers being gone, as my mc has two of hers taken. And I know that sounds crass, but I did it nicely, and he was only to happy to share what happened- a machine at a factory. Ouch!!!
ReplyDeleteOk, seriously, I was wincing and cringing and felt a little nauseous reading your final two descriptions - in other words, great job!! LOL. You're right, the language is really effective. I need to go wash the blood out of my eyes now ;)
ReplyDeleteI typically only write about pain I've personally experienced. One of the most visceral and disturbing books I've read will always be Faulkner's As I Lay Dying. Blood, sweat, tears mixed in with the stench of death.
ReplyDeleteCheers!
-A
Wonderful tips. There's a huge difference between the passages. "...feeling tendons tear like the wet cords binding a roast." Youch!
ReplyDeleteI use the Emotion Thesaurus, too. :)