What’s Working: Licking the Wounds

Just as a tree's wounds get separated from the body of the tree and protected by thickened bark, so too do the wounds your character has get protected as they grow.  Part of your job as a writer is to take your characters on a process of healing (or not) their wounds so they can either move forward, self-destruct, or continue acting in ways that the reader will find compelling. Image copyright Lori Gravley. 

If you’ve spent any time in therapy, you know that most of us who’ve made it past toddlerhood have survived mostly intact, but with some emotional scars that show up at inopportune times: a fight with your partner, your child’s bad decisions, a work project that frustrates you, a driver ahead of you on a two-lane road.  

These scars become wounds, sensitivities close to the surface or deeply hidden, that become hidden drivers of our behavior.  

A character arc is generally the path the character takes to recognize and resolve the wounds that childhood, past relationships, and the background you’ve given the character have created for that character.  A character in a romance, for example, may start the novel unable to trust someone in a relationship. The character meets someone who makes them want to try but then your character’s past or future goals get in the way of being able to commit to a relationship, even if the character wants to.  Through a series of plot developments and pressure from the world of your novel and other characters, your character has to face her wounds so that she can end up happy at the end of the novel.  

I’ve just finished Silver Borne by Patricia Briggs, and though it is Book 5 in the series, Mercy Thompson is still working on the wounds that make it hard for her to feel completely connected to an individual or completely connected to a community.  

Personal Pressure: The beginning of the novel finds Mercy choosing not to share her concerns about her former love and current roommate/friend’s state as a werewolf whose wolf is taking over.  

Community Pressure: She’s in a relationship with the pack Alpha, and their relationship continues to be strained by members of the pack who don’t trust/like Mercy since she’s a coyote shifter and not a werewolf.  

Both of these pressures are activating her deepest wound, the belief that she doesn’t belong and that if people love her they will eventually be destroyed because of that love.  

Towards the climax of the novel, this wound is actually given a visual metaphor as a rope that has been frayed, cut, and broken and has been inexpertly mended. 

During the denouement/atonement of the novel, this same connection is seen as a beautiful, shimmering, solid golden rope with no evidence of previous damage.  

The steps both Mercy and her community take heal Mercy’s wounds, heal her community as well (at-one-ment as Joseph Campbell calls it). 

I’m skipping over some important plot points here as I don’t want to spoil this delightful read for you, but hopefully, you get the message.  Your character’s past has given him or her disordered ways of living in the world and interacting with others.  Your characters don’t need therapists to heal their wounds though, they have you.  

You can find a lot more information on exploring your character’s wounds at K.M. Weiland’s Site: Helping Writers Become Authors and in her book Creating Character Arcs.

Angela Ackerman and Becca Puglisi’s book, The Emotional Wound Thesaurus, is another helpful reference.  

If you get stuck moving your story forward, think about what you need to do to move your character forward and it might give you some story momentum to speed you into Week 2 of NaNoWriMo.