how to describe drowning creative writing

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How to Write a Drowning Scene

1. Establish how they ended up in the water

» A . There are two ways a person can end up in a body of water . You need to set the scene so people know which one this is.

I. The person has lost their vehicle. People cross bodies of water in boats or planes. For this person to be in the water, they either fell off a boat, or their boat or plane wrecked. Imagery for this includes a sudden shock of cold water landscape of nothing but water with no land in sight. If they fell off the boat, they might watch it leave without them. I I. A person swam out too far. Though too far is a subjective term, for these purposes too far can simply mean too far from help. The deep end of a un-lifeguarded swimming pool is too far for someone who can’t swim. Of course, it can also be someone swimming for fun who gets caught in a riptide at an ocean or lake. Alternately, it can be someone eager to show off who swims until they tire, forgetting they still have to swim back. Imagery for this includes land on at least one side of the body of water. Swimmers also usually have other people around even though the people might not realize they are in trouble.

» A . B. How good of a swimmer are they?

I. If a person can swim, they don’t start out by drowning. They start out treading water.

I I. If a person can’t swim then they flail their arms about and try to break the surface.

C. Are they expecting help? I. The strong swimmer hopes help will arrive in time. In fact, they’re sure help will come. This ray of hope can occupy anywhere from a sentence to a paragraph through internal dialogue.

I I. The weak swimmer might not think about help consciously, but subconsciously, they do. When writing this scene, it will take up a much smaller part of the story, maybe as little as a single sentence. Or it could just be as short as the unspoken) word ‘help’ or ‘someone save me’. Note this will have to be internal dialogue, since drowning victims can’t actually talk. Example 1:

The icy water shocks my system as I plunge beneath the surface of the ocean. My heart races and my chest tightens as the cold fist of understanding squeezes the breath out of me. I fell off the boat and am now underwater. The lit surface above mocks me. I kick my legs as fast as I can and part the water with huge strokes of my arms. I probably don’t look graceful and I don’t’ care. My chest is on fire. I need to breathe. I explode from the water, spraying droplets everywhere. I fill my lungs with the sweet, life-giving air. The pleasure boat I fell from is close, but it’s not getting closer. I fight the panic raising up in my chest. My buddy’s Bryans’ on board, he’ll save me. I take a deep breath and swim towards the boat.

2. Trying to stay afloat is taking its toll.

» A . At this point it doesn’t matter if they’re a strong or weak swimmer because they’re getting tired.

I. It takes more effort to move effort to move thier arms and legs. They feel heavy both because of having to move in water and because they are surrounded by wet heavy clothing. They stop swimming as hard so they can rest for a moment.

I I. Without the constant movement, the victim starts to sink. They sink lower in the water, with water rushing into their nose and mouth alerting them to the danger. Through sheer survival instinct, they force their arms and legs to move and pop their head up above the water only to repeat the cycle.

» A . B. Coldness sets in.

I. Open water is always colder than the air around it. It’s also colder than 98.6, a human’s body temperature. So if you stay in water long enough the cold will set in. This makes it even harder to move your arms and legs as the human body core rushes blood away from the limbs and into the core to keep itself warm. I I. Cold water causes numbness and cramping, which makes it even harder to move.

II I. A strong sleepiness settles in. As the body cools, it also gets sleepy. They limbs feel heavier now, but so do the eyelids. The victim struggles to stay afloat, moving and awake. Example 2: Salt water brushes against my lips and invades my nose. I let out a deep breath to blow the water out. My body fights me on this, it wants to breathe in. Once more I break though the surface, spitting out the briny water. I speed up my strokes and will my legs to kick. It wasn’t this hard a few minutes ago. I squirm, trying to get on my back, but it doesn’t work. My legs are weighted, heavy. They slow. It’s so hard to get them to move. A chill seeps into my bones and weighs me down. Even my arms grow heavy. My body screams out for rest, it aches for it, and I just ache. I have to keep kicking…move legs. MOVE!

3. Tricks of the brain

» A . Feelings

I. Anger sets in as they realize they’re actually going to die out here. No one came to save them. No one cares and no one’s going to miss them when they’re gone. This anger gives them the strength to keep swimming. It’s one last burst of adrenaline.

I I. Regrets follow anger. If only they’d done something differently, they wouldn’t be in this mess. Maybe it’s a punishment for something they did and now will never have a chance to apologize for. Or maybe it was just arrogance or plain old bad luck. If only they’d done something differently. This is a great time to use that flashback you’ve been saving as a life passes before their eyes event.

» A . B. Perceptions

I. The victim needs to check in with their body, notice every thought and feeling. The frigid water, the perceptions, the questions of ‘why didn’t someone save me?’

I I. As the brain struggles for oxygen, hallucinations set in. The victim could see boats, land, or even strange objects floating around them. They could think they are real, but of course, they aren’t.

The frigid finger of realization pokes its way through the fear and makes me realize the truth. Bryan isn’t coming back for me. I know we’ve arguing over the business, but did he really leave me to die? Or maybe he just isn’t a good enough sailor to turn the boat. It’s my boat after all. I push down on the water around me, trying to keep my mouth above the surface. It’s getting so hard. I guess my legs are still moving. I can’t even feel my toes anymore. The water snugs in around me again.

This time, when I struggle back to the surface, I see it. A boat. Oh thank god, another boat. I want to cry out to it, but dare not open my mouth. That water is too close. And it’s getting closer. The sunlit world is above me. I force my leaden arms and legs to move. My worn out limbs let me know what they think of that. The boat is gone. I want to cry, but I don’t have the energy. Was it ever really there?

4. Drowning takes them away.

» A . One last fight

I. They realize no one is coming to save them. The realization sinks into their soul and makes them even heavier. They’re too tried and depressed to go on. I I. As They sink, they hold their breath and try to swim to the surface. However, no matter how hard they swim, they just can’t’ make it. A ringing in their ears starts. Their chest feels like it’s on fire and about to explode. Their breath comes out in a rush, replacing the life-giving oxygen with heavy water. As they see the bubbles rise, they know they’re done for.

» A . B. They are at peace

I. With water in their lungs instead of oxygen, they are too heavy to move and their willpower is gone. All they want to do is sleep.

I I. They think about the home they’ll never see again and the people they leave behind. They have odd thoughts they can’t control. They may even say something in their mind, an apology, a statement of true love, a little prayer.

   I I I. They take one last look at the brightly lit surface above them, think about how close it is, but then sink into the depths.

Bryan isn’t coming. No one’s coming. My limbs are winning this fight. As hard as I will them to move they don’t. They decided to rest instead. I take a deep breath as the water closes in around me. I can’t die this way. I’ll never see Rose again. And my son…I have PTA tonight. The sunlight filtering down through the water mocks me. A slight pressure pushes on my chest from the inside. My clothes swirl uselessly round me, weighing down even further. A ringing fills my ears, but otherwise it’s quiet.

My lungs burn. I clamp my mouth shut try to kick my legs. The urge to breathe is unbearable. My chest’s going to explode. No. No… Bubbles spew out of me, taking with them my precious air. I should want to force my legs to kick, but I don’t want to. I want to sleep. Already, the blackness clouds my vision, my thoughts. The sunlight is so beautiful down here. And getting further away…

Author’s Bio:

“Devlin Blake is an accomplished fiction author and writing coach with over two dozen published books including both fiction and non-fiction under a variety of pen names. Devlin’s signature writing system enables author clients to write faster and produce high quality work while holding down a job and enjoying life. Using this system, Devlin was able to create four novels in under a year with more ease, richer characters and robust story lines. Devlin is a sought after coach and consultant specializing in the horror/suspense writing genre. If you would like a free copy of Devlin’s Plotting Alchemy, The Easy Way To Plan a Novel, just click the link. https://devlinblake.com/writethatscene ”

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hi devlin my name is hedda christie and i need to know how do you handle writer’s block.

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Describing Sadness in Creative Writing: 33 Ways to Capture the Blues

By: Author Paul Jenkins

Posted on August 25, 2023

Categories Creative Writing , Writing

Describing sadness in creative writing can be a challenging task for any writer.

Sadness is an emotion that can be felt in different ways, and it’s important to be able to convey it in a way that is authentic and relatable to readers. Whether you’re writing a novel, short story, or even a poem, the ability to describe sadness can make or break a story.

Understanding sadness in writing is essential to creating a believable character or scene. Sadness is a complex emotion that can be caused by a variety of factors, such as loss, disappointment, or loneliness. It’s important to consider the context in which the sadness is occurring, as this can influence the way it is expressed.

By exploring the emotional spectrum of characters and the physical manifestations of sadness, writers can create a more authentic portrayal of the emotion.

In this article, we will explore the different ways to describe sadness in creative writing. We will discuss the emotional spectrum of characters, the physical manifestations of sadness, and the language and dialogue used to express it. We’ll also look at expert views on emotion and provide unique examples of describing sadness.

By the end of this article, you’ll have a better understanding of how to authentically convey sadness in your writing.

Key Takeaways

• Understanding the emotional spectrum of characters is essential to creating a believable portrayal of sadness.
• Physical manifestations of sadness can be used to convey the emotion in a more authentic way.
• Authenticity in describing sadness can be achieved through language and dialogue, as well as expert views on emotion.

33 Ways to Express Sadness in Creative Writing

Let’s start with some concrete examples of sadness metaphors and similes:

Here are 33 ways to express sadness in creative writing:

• A heavy sigh escaped her lips as a tear rolled down her cheek.
• His eyes glistened with unleashed tears that he quickly blinked away.
• Her heart felt like it was being squeezed by a cold, metal fist.
• A profound emptiness opened up inside him, threatening to swallow him whole.
• An avalanche of sorrow crashed over her without warning.
• His spirit sank like a stone in water.
• A dark cloud of grief descended on her.
• Waves of sadness washed over him, pulling him under.
• She felt like she was drowning in an ocean of melancholy.
• His eyes darkened with sadness like a gathering storm.
• Grief enveloped her like a wet blanket, heavy and smothering.
• The light in his eyes dimmed to a flicker behind tears.
• Sadness seeped through her veins like icy slush.
• The corners of his mouth drooped like a wilting flower.
• Her breath came in short, ragged gasps between sobs.
• A profound melancholy oozed from his pores.
• The weight of despair crushed her like a vice.
• A haunted, hollow look glazed over his eyes.
• An invisible hand squeezed her heart, wringing out all joy.
• His soul curdled like spoiled milk.
• A silent scream lodged in her throat.
• He was consumed by a fathomless gloom.
• Sorrow pulsed through her veins with every beat of her heart.
• Grief blanketed him like new-fallen snow, numbing and icy.
• Tears stung her eyes like shards of glass.
• A cold, dark abyss of sadness swallowed him.
• Melancholy seeped from her like rain from a leaky roof.
• His spirit shriveled and sank like a deflating balloon.
• A sick, hollow ache blossomed inside her.
• Rivulets of anguish trickled down his cheeks.
• Sadness smothered her like a poisonous fog.
• Gloom settled on his shoulders like a black shroud.
• Her sorrow poured out in a river of tears.

Understanding Sadness in Writing

Describing sadness in writing can be a challenging task.

Sadness is a complex emotion that can manifest in different ways. It can be expressed through tears, sighs, silence, or even a simple change in posture. As a writer, you need to be able to convey sadness effectively to your readers, while also avoiding cliches and melodrama.

One way to approach describing sadness is to focus on the physical sensations and reactions that accompany it. For example, you might describe the feeling of a lump in your throat, or the tightness in your chest. You could also describe the way your eyes become watery, or the way your hands tremble.

These physical descriptions can help your readers to empathize with your characters and feel the same emotions.

Another important aspect of describing sadness is the tone of your writing. You want to strike a balance between conveying the depth of the emotion and avoiding excessive sentimentality.

One way to achieve this is to use simple, direct language that conveys the emotion without resorting to flowery language or overwrought metaphors.

When describing sadness, it’s also important to consider the context in which it occurs. Sadness can be a response to many different situations, such as loss, disappointment, or rejection. It can also be accompanied by other emotions, such as anger, confusion, or melancholy.

By considering the context and accompanying emotions, you can create a more nuanced and realistic portrayal of sadness in your writing.

Finally, it can be helpful to draw on examples of how other writers have successfully described sadness. By studying the techniques and descriptions used by other writers, you can gain a better understanding of how to effectively convey sadness in your own writing.

In conclusion, describing sadness in writing requires a careful balance of physical descriptions, tone, context, and examples. By focusing on these elements, you can create a more nuanced and effective portrayal of this complex emotion.

Emotional Spectrum in Characters

In creative writing, it’s important to create characters that are multi-dimensional and have a wide range of emotions. When it comes to describing sadness, it’s essential to understand the emotional spectrum of characters and how they respond to different situations.

Characters can experience a variety of emotions, including love, happiness, surprise, anger, fear, nervousness, and more.

Each character has a unique personality that influences their emotional responses. For example, a protagonist might respond to sadness with a broken heart, dismay, or feeling desolate.

On the other hand, a character might respond with anger, contempt, or apathy.

When describing sadness, it’s important to consider the emotional response of the character. For example, a haunted character might respond to sadness with exhaustion or a sense of being drained. A crestfallen character might respond with a sense of defeat or disappointment.

It’s also important to consider how sadness affects the character’s personality. Some characters might become withdrawn or depressed, while others might become more emotional or volatile. When describing sadness, it’s important to show how it affects the character’s behavior and interactions with others.

Overall, the emotional spectrum of characters is an important aspect of creative writing. By understanding how characters respond to different emotions, you can create more realistic and relatable characters. When describing sadness, it’s important to consider the character’s emotional response, personality, and behavior.

Physical Manifestations of Sadness

When you’re feeling sad, it’s not just an emotion that you experience mentally. It can also manifest physically. Here are some physical manifestations of sadness that you can use in your creative writing to make your characters more believable.

Tears are one of the most common physical manifestations of sadness. When you’re feeling sad, your eyes may start to water, and tears may fall down your cheeks. Tears can be used to show that a character is feeling overwhelmed with emotion.

Crying is another physical manifestation of sadness. When you’re feeling sad, you may cry. Crying can be used to show that a character is feeling deeply hurt or upset.

Numbness is a physical sensation that can accompany sadness. When you’re feeling sad, you may feel emotionally numb. This can be used to show that a character is feeling disconnected from their emotions.

Facial Expressions

Facial expressions can also be used to show sadness. When you’re feeling sad, your face may droop, and your eyes may look downcast. This can be used to show that a character is feeling down or depressed.

Gestures can also be used to show sadness. When you’re feeling sad, you may slump your shoulders or hang your head. This can be used to show that a character is feeling defeated or hopeless.

Body Language

Body language can also be used to show sadness. When you’re feeling sad, you may cross your arms or hunch over. This can be used to show that a character is feeling closed off or defensive.

Cold and Heat

Sadness can also affect your body temperature. When you’re feeling sad, you may feel cold or hot. This can be used to show that a character is feeling uncomfortable or out of place.

Sobbing is another physical manifestation of sadness. When you’re feeling sad, you may sob uncontrollably. This can be used to show that a character is feeling overwhelmed with emotion.

Sweating is another physical manifestation of sadness. When you’re feeling sad, you may sweat profusely. This can be used to show that a character is feeling anxious or nervous.

By using these physical manifestations of sadness in your writing, you can make your characters more realistic and relatable. Remember to use them sparingly and only when they are relevant to the story.

Authenticity in Describing Sadness

When it comes to describing sadness in creative writing, authenticity is key. Readers can tell when an author is not being genuine, and it can make the story feel less impactful. In order to authentically describe sadness, it’s important to tap into your own emotions and experiences.

Think about a time when you felt truly sad. What did it feel like? What physical sensations did you experience? How did your thoughts and emotions change? By tapping into your own experiences, you can better convey the emotions of your characters.

It’s also important to remember that sadness can manifest in different ways for different people. Some people may cry, while others may become withdrawn or angry. By understanding the unique ways that sadness can present itself, you can create more authentic and realistic characters.

If you’re struggling to authentically describe sadness, consider talking to a loved one or best friend about their experiences. Hearing firsthand accounts can help you better understand the nuances of the emotion.

Ultimately, the key to authentically describing sadness is to approach it with empathy and understanding. By putting yourself in the shoes of your characters and readers, you can create a powerful and impactful story that resonates with your audience.

Language and Dialogue in Expressing Sadness

When writing about sadness, the language you use can make a big difference in how your readers will perceive the emotions of your characters.

Consider using metaphors and similes to create vivid images that will help your readers connect with the emotions of your characters.

For example, you might describe the sadness as a heavy weight on the character’s chest or a dark cloud hanging over their head.

In addition to using metaphors, you can also use adjectives to describe the character’s emotions. Be careful not to overuse adjectives, as this can detract from the impact of your writing. Instead, choose a few powerful adjectives that will help your readers understand the depth of the character’s sadness.

For example, you might describe the sadness as overwhelming, suffocating, or unbearable.

When it comes to dialogue, it’s important to remember that people don’t always express their emotions directly. In fact, sometimes what isn’t said is just as important as what is said.

Consider using subtext to convey the character’s sadness indirectly. For example, a character might say “I’m fine,” when in reality they are struggling with intense sadness.

Another way to use dialogue to convey sadness is through the use of behaviors. For example, a character might withdraw from social situations, stop eating or sleeping properly, or engage in self-destructive behaviors as a result of their sadness.

By showing these behaviors, you can help your readers understand the depth of the character’s emotions.

Finally, when describing sadness, it’s important to consider the overall mood of the scene. Use sensory details to create a somber atmosphere that will help your readers connect with the emotions of your characters.

For example, you might describe the rain falling heavily outside, the silence of an empty room, or the dim lighting of a funeral home.

Overall, when writing about sadness, it’s important to choose your words carefully and use a variety of techniques to convey the depth of your character’s emotions.

By using metaphors, adjectives, dialogue, behaviors, and sensory details, you can create a powerful and emotionally resonant story that will stay with your readers long after they’ve finished reading.

Expert Views on Emotion

When it comes to writing about emotions, it’s important to have a deep understanding of how they work and how they can be conveyed effectively through writing. Here are some expert views on emotion that can help you write about sadness in a more effective and engaging way.

Dr. Paul Ekman

Dr. Paul Ekman is a renowned psychologist who has spent decades studying emotions and their expressions. According to Dr. Ekman, there are six basic emotions that are universally recognized across cultures: happiness, sadness, anger, fear, surprise, and disgust.

When it comes to writing about sadness, Dr. Ekman suggests focusing on the physical sensations that accompany the emotion.

For example, you might describe the heaviness in your chest, the lump in your throat, or the tears that well up in your eyes. By focusing on these physical sensations, you can help your readers connect with the emotion on a deeper level.

While sadness is often seen as a “negative” emotion, it’s important to remember that all emotions have their place in creative writing. Disgust, for example, can be a powerful tool for conveying a character’s revulsion or aversion to something.

When writing about disgust, it’s important to be specific about what is causing the emotion. For example, you might describe the smell of rotting garbage, the sight of maggots wriggling in a pile of food, or the texture of slimy, raw meat.

By being specific, you can help your readers feel the full force of the emotion and understand why your character is feeling it.

Overall, when it comes to writing about emotions, it’s important to be both specific and authentic. By drawing on your own experiences and using concrete details to describe the physical sensations and causes of emotions, you can create a more engaging and emotionally resonant piece of writing.

Unique Examples of Describing Sadness

When it comes to describing sadness in creative writing, there are many unique ways to convey this emotion to your readers. Here are some examples that can help you create a powerful and moving scene:

• The crying scene : One of the most common ways to show sadness is through tears. However, instead of just saying “she cried,” try to describe the crying scene in detail. For instance, you could describe how her tears fell like raindrops on the floor, or how her sobs shook her body like a violent storm. This will help your readers visualize the scene and feel the character’s pain.
• The socks : Another way to show sadness is through symbolism. For example, you could describe how the character is wearing mismatched socks, which represents how her life is falling apart and nothing seems to fit together anymore. This can be a subtle yet effective way to convey sadness without being too obvious.
• John : If your character is named John, you can use his name to create a sense of melancholy. For example, you could describe how the raindrops fell on John’s shoulders, weighing him down like the burdens of his life. This can be a creative way to convey sadness while also adding depth to your character.

Remember, when describing sadness in creative writing, it’s important to be specific and use vivid language. This will help your readers connect with your character on a deeper level and feel their pain.

Frequently Asked Questions

What are some effective ways to describe a person’s sadness without using the word ‘sad’.

When describing sadness, it’s important to avoid using the word “sad” as it can come across as cliché and lackluster. Instead, try using more descriptive words that evoke a sense of sadness in the reader. For example, you could use words like “heartbroken,” “bereft,” “devastated,” “despondent,” or “forlorn.” These words help to create a more vivid and emotional description of sadness that readers can connect with.

How can you describe the physical manifestations of sadness on a person’s face?

When describing the physical manifestations of sadness on a person’s face, it’s important to pay attention to the small details. For example, you could describe the way their eyes become red and swollen from crying, or how their mouth trembles as they try to hold back tears. You could also describe the way their shoulders slump or how they withdraw into themselves. By focusing on these small but telling details, you can create a more realistic and relatable portrayal of sadness.

What are some examples of using metaphor and simile to convey sadness in creative writing?

Metaphors and similes can be powerful tools for conveying sadness in creative writing. For example, you could compare a person’s sadness to a heavy weight that they’re carrying on their shoulders, or to a storm cloud that follows them wherever they go. You could also use metaphors and similes to describe the way sadness feels, such as a “gnawing ache” in the pit of their stomach or a “cold, empty void” inside their chest.

How can you effectively convey the emotional weight of sadness through dialogue?

When writing dialogue for a character who is experiencing sadness, it’s important to focus on the emotions and feelings that they’re experiencing. Use short, simple sentences to convey the character’s sadness, and avoid using overly complex language or metaphors. You could also use pauses and silences to create a sense of emotional weight and tension in the scene.

What are some techniques for describing a character’s inner sadness in a way that is relatable to the reader?

One effective technique for describing a character’s inner sadness is to focus on their thoughts and feelings. Use introspection to delve into the character’s emotions and describe how they’re feeling in a way that is relatable to the reader. You could also use flashbacks or memories to show why the character is feeling sad, and how it’s affecting their current actions and decisions.

How can you use sensory language to create a vivid portrayal of sadness in a poem or story?

Sensory language is an effective way to create a vivid portrayal of sadness in a poem or story. Use descriptive words that evoke the senses, such as the smell of rain on a sad day or the sound of a distant train whistle. You could also use sensory language to describe the physical sensations of sadness, such as the weight of a heavy heart or the taste of tears on the tongue. By using sensory language, you can create a more immersive and emotional reading experience for your audience.

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19,898 quotes, descriptions and writing prompts, 4,964 themes

drowning - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing

I've almost drowned in water and in air, it's the same either way if your lungs can't take in the oxygen. People have a weird and sick way of romanticising forms of death. It's all ugly. It all hurts. Very few ways to go aren't. A massive stroke is among the kindest, my Grandmother was lucky enough to go that way. It's far better to see drowning as it is and have empathy for those who die that way than fail to see the pain and suffering they endured. We are born to survive and thrive, to live and love, the end is the end, the last word on the last page, yet the beauty is the story that came before.

Drowning is a bitch of a way to go. Panic, fear and more panic. At least it was that way for me. I thought I was dead, or about to become dead. My hair floated upward and the sunlight was getting further away. That's when my brother's hand found my arm and he pulled me upwards and to safety. You remember stuff like that.

The first time her head bobs beneath the waves Sasha isn't worried. She's dived before, she isn't scared of a little water over her head. After only thirty seconds more she is sinking again, her legs tired and struggling to bring her back toward the sun-speckled surface. She can't hear the music and chatter from the lake-side beach anymore and her hair rises like seaweed upwards, rippling in the currents. With super human effort she breaks the surface again, gulping at the summer air and then with barely a splash she is under again. This time she sinks faster and the panic has her heart hammering against her ribs. Nobody is looking, no-one has seen, she isn't a small child under her mother's watchful eye anymore, she is a teenager and a competitive swimmer. When she can no longer hold her breath the cold water rushes in, all illusions of surviving are gone. Soon the oxygen deprivation takes away her thoughts and she will have to wait for the divers to return her to her loved ones.

In the movies drowning is loud and splashy, someone yells and waves their arms, they dip below the waves and come up in dramatic fashion while those on shore scramble to rescue them. I've been a lifeguard since my teens and I can tell you that that particular scenario has never happened. Drowning is quiet, their movements are subtle, they rarely make any noise at all. One minute their head is bobbing above the water and then it is gone. So if you're not any good at "spot-the-difference" this isn't the job for you. Someone can go in the time it takes you to check a text from your man. Last summer we lost two men on my watch, young, twenty something, more bravado than sense. I was there when they pulled their lifeless bodies up the sand, water-logged and blue. So I tell my guy, there's nothing macho about drowning, always tie a float to your leg when you swim out, gives you something to hold onto if you get a cramp.

I have held my breath in a pool before, this isn't like that. This is like having a gun to my head and being told not to let my heart beat. Of course it will beat. And just like the heart must go on my lungs will inhale whether it is air or briny water. In the moment that the coolness rushes in I know I am already dead. In moments I will float like the sea weed, nothing more than flesh and bones ready to decay in the currents. I want to be saved, I want a rescuing hand to tow me back to life, to the world I know...

When I fall beneath the waves I expect to come back up, and I do. But each chance to breathe becomes further apart, each breath less than the last. Before I go under that final time I know I have been kissed by the sun for the last time. The current takes me down and I strain for the light that dims above.

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Monday, September 25, 2017

Tips on writing an underwater scene.

“Hero slipped beneath the calm surface and descended downward to the coral reef. Orange and yellow tube sponges were scattered across the reef. The cracklings of snappers and grunts filled his ears. He passed over large mounds of brain coral that looked exactly like their name sakes. He swam over to the ledge and did a free fall. He left behind the reds and yellows of the reef and entered a realm of blues and violets. The only sound he heard was his exhaust bubbles rushing to the surface. His depth gauge read 190 feet. Almost to the point where air turns toxic, 212 feet. He knelt on a sandy bottom, trying to remember why he made this dive. Nitrogen narcosis fogged his mind. A lone bull shark circled him, the brute’s body as solid as a locomotive.”

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Writing Nestling

How To Describe Death Scenes In Writing (12 Steps You Need To Know)

Writing a death scene is a delicate yet potent art form within the realm of storytelling.

It is a pivotal moment where emotions run high, and the narrative takes a dramatic turn. Crafting a death scene that resonates with readers requires a skillful blend of character development, plot consideration, and emotional depth.

In this exploration of the craft, we will delve into the intricate facets of creating a memorable death scene, one that not only tugs at heartstrings but also serves as a catalyst for the narrative, leaving a lasting impact on the audience.

From character selection to scene composition, dialogue to emotional resonance, we will uncover the secrets of this powerful storytelling device, striving to strike that elusive balance between shock and satisfaction, while ultimately leaving a lasting imprint on the reader’s soul.

Table of Contents

How To Describe Death Scenes In Writing

Certainly, here’s a step-by-step process for writing a death scene:

Establish the Context

Begin by setting the stage for the death scene. Describe the location, time, and any relevant circumstances leading up to this moment.

Character Development

Ensure that the character facing death is well-developed. Readers should have a strong emotional connection to the character.

Emotions and Inner Thoughts

Show the character’s emotions and inner thoughts as they confront their mortality. This is a key element in making the scene poignant.

If there are any final words or exchanges between characters, write meaningful and authentic dialogue that fits the context.

Physical Description

Describe the physical sensations the character experiences, such as pain, difficulty breathing, or fading consciousness.

Surroundings:

Incorporate sensory details to convey the environment – sights, sounds, smells, and even the weather – to create a vivid setting.

Other Characters’ Reactions

Depict how other characters present react to the impending death. Their emotions and actions can add depth to the scene.

Symbolism and Metaphor

Consider using symbolism or metaphor to enhance the scene’s meaning and impact.

Control the pacing of the scene to build tension. You may slow down to emphasize significant moments and speed up for intensity.

Decide how the scene concludes, whether with acceptance, regret, or other emotions. It should feel emotionally satisfying.

Revise and edit the scene to ensure clarity and emotional resonance. Eliminate any unnecessary elements.

Reader Impact

Reflect on the impact you want the death scene to have on your readers. Aim to evoke the intended emotions.

Remember that writing a death scene can be emotionally challenging, so approach it with care and sensitivity, keeping your overall narrative and character arcs in mind

Character development is the artist’s palette, the symphony’s crescendo, and the novelist’s alchemy. It’s the art of breathing life into words, weaving the ordinary into the extraordinary.

Through every turn of the narrative, characters evolve, their hearts and minds laid bare like a treasure map waiting to be explored.

It’s the magic that turns ink on a page into a living, breathing soul, inviting readers to embark on a journey where empathy blooms, flaws reveal their beauty, and the human spirit unfurls its wings.

In the realm of storytelling, character development is the heartbeat that resonates, the catalyst for emotional investment, and the thread that weaves tales that transcend the bounds of mere words.

Choosing the right character for the death

Selecting the right character for a poignant death scene is akin to choosing a note in a symphony; it must strike the perfect chord.

It’s a delicate balance of narrative impact and emotional resonance. The character chosen should be one whose presence has been deeply etched into the reader’s heart, someone whose absence will leave a palpable void.

Whether it’s a beloved hero sacrificing for a noble cause or a complex antagonist finding redemption in their final moments, the character’s journey and connection with the audience must be profound.

This choice is not only about the shock value of death but the profound impact it has on the story’s tapestry, evoking emotions that linger long after the final page is turned.

Building a strong emotional connection with the audience

Building a strong emotional connection with the audience is the architect’s blueprint of storytelling.

It’s the art of crafting characters whose dreams, fears, and triumphs mirror the reader’s own, forging an unspoken bond that transcends the page.

It’s about giving life to characters with whom the audience can laugh, cry, and grow. Through shared experiences, vulnerabilities, and aspirations, the reader becomes not just an observer but a participant in the story’s unfolding drama.

It’s in these moments of connection that the words on the page transform into a mirror reflecting the human condition, reminding us that within the vast tapestry of fiction, we find echoes of our own joys, sorrows, and, ultimately, our shared humanity.

Plot Considerations

Plot considerations are the labyrinths of imagination, where every twist and turn holds the power to captivate or confound the reader.

They’re the strategic maneuvers of storytelling, the hidden levers that propel a narrative forward with unrelenting momentum.

It’s the dance of cause and effect, where each event ripples through the story like a stone thrown into a pond, creating intricate patterns of consequence.

As a writer, it’s not merely plotting points on a graph but orchestrating a symphony of emotions and revelations.

Plot considerations breathe life into the tale, from the first page’s tantalizing setup to the climactic crescendo and the lingering notes of resolution.

They are the heartbeat of storytelling, where the author’s artistry lies in crafting a journey that keeps readers on the edge of their seats, eager to unravel the enigma of what happens next.

Incorporating death into the storyline

Incorporating death into the storyline is akin to weaving the shadowy threads of mortality into the vibrant tapestry of life. It’s a narrative alchemy that can evoke profound emotions and challenge the very essence of the human experience.

Whether it’s a tragic loss that shatters the protagonist’s world or a poignant farewell that brings closure, death is a powerful catalyst for transformation and reflection.

When deftly integrated, it can serve as a compelling narrative device, prompting characters to confront their fears, reevaluate their priorities, or embark on quests for justice and closure.

It’s the ultimate reminder that in the intricate web of storytelling, death isn’t merely an end; it’s a beginning, a catalyst for growth, and a testament to the enduring power of human resilience and the enduring impact of those we’ve loved and lost.

Foreshadowing and suspense

Foreshadowing and suspense are the masterful strokes of a storyteller’s brush, painting intrigue across the canvas of narrative.

Like whispered secrets in a dimly lit room, they tantalize the reader’s imagination and invite them to delve deeper into the unfolding mystery.

Foreshadowing is the subtle art of planting seeds of anticipation, dropping breadcrumbs of clues that leave the audience eager to decipher their significance.

Suspense, on the other hand, is the pulse-quickening heartbeat of uncertainty, where the unknown lurks in the shadows, heightening emotions and keeping readers on the edge of their seats.

Together, they create a symphony of tension and release, a delicate balance that transforms storytelling into an exhilarating journey where the thrill of discovery lies just beyond the next page, encouraging readers to turn it with bated breath.

Scene Composition

Scene composition is the playwright’s stage, the filmmaker’s frame, and the novelist’s canvas. It’s the choreography of storytelling, where words are brushstrokes and setting becomes a character in its own right.

It’s about choosing the perfect backdrop, orchestrating the play of light and shadow, and harnessing the sensory arsenal to immerse readers in a vivid, multisensory experience.

Scene composition isn’t just about describing a place; it’s about invoking a mood, setting the emotional temperature, and creating a space where characters and plot can flourish .

It’s where a dilapidated mansion becomes a haunting metaphor, a moonlit forest a sanctuary of secrets, and a bustling city street a symphony of human drama.

In the hands of a skilled writer, scene composition transforms the mundane into the magical, making readers not just observers but active participants in the unfolding narrative, stepping into a world where every scene is a masterpiece waiting to be explored.

Selecting the location and time

Selecting the location and time in storytelling is akin to choosing the stage for a grand theatrical performance. It’s the cornerstone upon which the narrative’s authenticity and atmosphere are built.

The location becomes a character in its own right, influencing the story’s mood and characters’ actions. Whether it’s a sun-soaked beach at dawn, an eerie forest beneath a silver moon, or a bustling metropolis at the height of rush hour, each setting imparts its unique essence to the tale.

Simultaneously, the chosen time period is a lens through which we view the characters and their dilemmas, reflecting the social, cultural, and historical context that shapes their lives.

Together, the location and time create the backdrop against which the drama of the narrative unfolds, painting a vivid, immersive world that draws readers into its embrace, making the story’s magic all the more palpable and profound.

Utilizing sensory details for a vivid portrayal

Utilizing sensory details is the writer’s secret incantation for conjuring worlds that live and breathe within the reader’s mind.

It’s the difference between merely reading words on a page and stepping into a vibrant tapestry of sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and textures.

When expertly wielded, sensory details transform description into immersion. The rustling leaves whisper secrets in the reader’s ear, the aroma of freshly baked bread can transport them to a bustling bakery, and the chill of a winter’s night can send shivers down their spine.

By harnessing the senses, a writer can create a vivid, multisensory experience that goes beyond storytelling, inviting readers to feel, taste, and breathe the very essence of the narrative.

It’s the art of making fiction tangible, and in doing so, it turns words into worlds, and readers into travelers on an unforgettable journey through the power of imagination.

Dialogue and Monologue

Dialogue and monologue are the lifeblood of character revelation, the symphony of voices that echo the human condition within the confines of a story.

Dialogue, like a lively debate between souls, is where characters breathe life into words, revealing their quirks, passions, and innermost thoughts through conversation.

It’s the art of crafting words that dance like music, with every exchange carrying the power to ignite sparks or mend wounds. On the other hand, monologue is the character’s unfiltered confession, a soliloquy where secrets, dreams, and fears are laid bare.

It’s the intimate whisper to the reader, a window into the very essence of a character’s soul.

Together, they create a harmonious dialogue, a duet between the fictional and the reader’s imagination, where every word becomes a brushstroke, painting the portrait of the human experience in vibrant and unforgettable colors.

Crafting poignant last words

Crafting poignant last words is the writer’s ultimate symphony of emotion, a fleeting crescendo that lingers in the reader’s heart long after the final page is turned.

These words are the character’s swan song, a culmination of their journey, and a poignant reflection of their essence. When done with mastery, they transcend mere text, becoming a profound moment of vulnerability and truth.

Whether it’s a hero imparting wisdom, a lover expressing their eternal devotion, or an antagonist revealing a hint of redemption, last words encapsulate the character’s entire arc and purpose within the narrative.

They are a profound reminder that even in the face of mortality, words have the power to transcend time and etch themselves into the reader’s memory, forever echoing the character’s legacy and the emotional impact of their journey.

Internal thoughts and reflections

Internal thoughts and reflections are the quiet whispers of a character’s soul, the hidden chambers where the true essence of a narrative resides.

It’s through these intimate moments that readers gain access to the innermost sanctum of a character’s psyche, witnessing their fears, hopes, regrets, and dreams.

These internal monologues become windows into the depths of human complexity, allowing us to empathize, connect, and even challenge our own beliefs through the character’s introspection.

They are the moments of profound vulnerability when characters grapple with their choices and confront the moral dilemmas that define their journey.

In the hands of a skilled writer, these internal musings become a tapestry of emotions, painting a rich, authentic portrait of the human experience and, in turn, inviting readers to explore the labyrinth of their own hearts and minds.

Emotional Resonance

Emotional resonance is the storyteller’s alchemy, the elixir that turns words on a page into indelible imprints on the human soul. It’s the heartbeat of a narrative, the secret ingredient that transforms tales from mere stories into unforgettable journeys.

When a writer masterfully crafts a narrative with emotional resonance, it’s as though they’ve harnessed the power of empathy itself, allowing readers to walk in the characters’ shoes, feel their joys and sorrows, and carry the echoes of their experiences long after the book is closed.

It’s the universal language that unites us all, reminding us that beneath our differences, we share the same hopes, fears, and dreams.

In the tapestry of storytelling, emotional resonance is the thread that binds us to the narrative, leaving an enduring mark on our hearts and inviting us to explore the boundless depths of our own humanity.

Evoking empathy and sorrow

Evoking empathy and sorrow in storytelling is like weaving a tapestry of human connection. It’s the art of inviting readers to step into the shoes of characters, to see the world through their eyes, and to feel the weight of their burdens as if they were their own.

Through vivid portrayals of characters’ struggles and vulnerabilities, a skilled writer can ignite a profound emotional response, stirring empathy that transcends the confines of the narrative.

Sorrow becomes the shared experience, a poignant reminder of the universality of pain and the beauty of resilience.

When done with finesse, this emotional alchemy doesn’t just bring tears to the reader’s eyes; it forges an enduring bond, reminding us all of our capacity for compassion and the power of storytelling to illuminate the profound depths of the human spirit.

Symbolism and Themes

Symbolism and themes are the hidden gems of storytelling, the cryptic codes that unlock the deeper layers of a narrative’s meaning.

They’re the breadcrumbs scattered through the story’s forest , urging readers to venture deeper into the woods of thought. Symbolism is the art of infusing objects, motifs, or events with hidden significance, turning them into metaphors that resonate with universal truths.

Themes, on the other hand, are the narrative’s beating heart, the philosophical questions it poses, and the lessons it imparts.

Together, they create a tapestry where every element serves a dual purpose – advancing the plot while inviting readers to explore profound questions about life, morality, and the human condition.

In the hands of a skillful writer, symbolism and themes transform a story into a multidimensional puzzle, where the act of unraveling becomes as rewarding as the tale itself, leaving readers not only entertained but enriched by the layers of meaning beneath the surface.

Linking the death to the overall narrative

Linking a character’s death to the overall narrative is akin to connecting the threads of fate in a grand tapestry of storytelling.

It’s the moment when the narrative’s disparate elements coalesce into a profound and resonant whole. A well-crafted death serves as more than a mere plot device; it becomes an integral piece of the narrative’s thematic puzzle, amplifying the story’s central messages and character arcs.

It’s the point where the story’s themes find their zenith, where characters confront their deepest fears or discover newfound purpose through the loss.

The death, whether tragic or redemptive, weaves itself into the narrative’s very fabric, reminding readers that within the ebb and flow of life and death, there is an enduring and intricate beauty that transcends the bounds of fiction.

Reader Experience

Reader experience is the sacred alchemy where words on a page transform into a vivid, immersive journey that transcends the limits of reality.

It’s the moment when a reader steps through the looking glass into a world where time stands still, where characters become confidants, and where every plot twist quickens the heartbeat.

A well-crafted narrative isn’t just a story; it’s an invitation to embark on an odyssey of emotions, a thrilling rollercoaster of empathy, laughter, and tears. Reader experience is the spark that ignites the imagination, making it soar to places unknown and return forever changed.

It’s a testament to the transformative power of storytelling, where each page is a portal, and every word is a magic spell, leaving readers not as they were before, but as explorers of the boundless landscapes of the human spirit.

Balancing shock and satisfaction

Balancing shock and satisfaction in storytelling is akin to walking a tightrope suspended between surprise and fulfillment.

It’s about offering readers unexpected twists and turns while ensuring that these narrative acrobatics remain deeply rooted in the story’s internal logic and character development.

Too much shock without satisfying resolutions can leave readers disoriented and unsatisfied, while an overdose of predictability can render a narrative dull.

Striking the perfect equilibrium involves crafting surprising revelations that feel earned and resonate with the overall narrative’s themes.

It’s the art of keeping readers on their toes, providing them with moments of exhilaration, and ultimately rewarding them with resolutions that leave a lasting impact.

In the realm of storytelling, it’s the delicate dance that transforms a good tale into an unforgettable masterpiece.

Leaving a lasting impact on the audience

Leaving a lasting impact on the audience is the holy grail of storytelling, the beacon that guides writers through the creative labyrinth.

It’s about crafting narratives that, like timeless melodies, continue to resonate in the hearts and minds of readers long after the final page is turned.

A story that endures isn’t merely a sequence of events; it’s an emotional rollercoaster that forges deep connections, challenges beliefs, and stirs the soul.

It’s in those moments of reflection, when the book is closed, that the true power of storytelling is revealed—the ability to inspire, provoke, and leave an indelible mark on the reader’s consciousness.

A narrative that lingers is a testament to the writer’s artistry, a gift that keeps on giving, and a reminder that stories have the power to transcend time, bridging the gaps between generations and cultures, and echoing through the annals of human experience.

Editing and Refinement

Editing and refinement are the sculptor’s chisel and the jeweler’s precision, where raw narrative potential transforms into a gleaming gem of storytelling.

It’s the phase where the rough edges are smoothed, the superfluous stripped away, and each word, sentence, and paragraph honed to perfection.

Editing isn’t merely a chore; it’s a symphony of revisiting, revising, and reimagining—a process that transforms a manuscript from a diamond in the rough into a sparkling literary masterpiece.

It’s the art of tightening the narrative’s grip on the reader, where every word carries weight and every plot twist finds its resonance.

In the crucible of editing, a story evolves, not just into its best self, but into a work of art that can enthrall, enlighten, and endure the test of time.

Polishing the death scene for maximum effect

Polishing the death scene for maximum effect is akin to crafting the crescendo of a symphony. It’s the culmination of careful character development, plot intricacies, and emotional resonance.

This process is about finetuning the details—the choice of words, the pacing, the atmosphere—all to create a moment that lingers in the reader’s soul.

It’s where the art of storytelling converges with the art of emotional manipulation, aiming not just to evoke tears but to provoke profound introspection.

The polished death scene isn’t just a moment of departure; it’s an emotional epicenter that reverberates through the narrative, shaping the characters and their journey, and, ultimately, leaving a powerful imprint on the reader’s heart and mind.

FAQs About Writing Death Scenes

What is the purpose of including a death scene in a story.

A death scene serves various purposes, such as advancing the plot, character development, and evoking emotional responses from readers. It can symbolize sacrifice, redemption, or the impermanence of life, adding depth to the narrative.

How do I choose which character should die in my story?

Selecting the right character for a death scene involves considering their impact on the story , emotional connection with readers, and how their demise advances the plot or themes. The character’s journey and significance should guide your decision.

What are some common mistakes to avoid when writing death scenes?

Common pitfalls include gratuitous violence, deaths lacking emotional depth, and abrupt or unrealistic deaths that don’t align with the narrative. Avoid clichés and ensure the death feels organic to the story.

How can I make a death scene emotionally resonant for readers?

Crafting poignant last words, exploring the character’s inner thoughts and emotions, and utilizing sensory details can all contribute to making a death scene emotionally impactful.

Should every death scene be tragic, or can they be redemptive or even uplifting?

Death scenes don’t always have to be tragic. They can also be redemptive, heroic, or even bittersweet, depending on the story’s themes and the character’s arc.

What role does foreshadowing play in preparing readers for a death scene?

Foreshadowing is essential for creating anticipation and emotional buildup. It can subtly hint at the impending death, preparing readers emotionally for the impact.

How do I balance the shock value of a death scene with satisfying resolutions for readers?

Striking a balance involves surprising readers while ensuring that the death’s impact aligns with the narrative’s overall goals. Avoid cheap shock and ensure that resolutions feel earned and emotionally resonant.

Is it essential for a death scene to have symbolism and tie into the story’s themes?

Incorporating symbolism and connecting the death to themes can deepen the narrative’s meaning and leave a lasting impression. It’s a powerful tool, but not all death scenes require it, depending on the story’s context.

What is the role of editing and refinement in perfecting a death scene?

Editing and refinement are crucial for polishing a death scene, ensuring that it aligns with the story’s tone, pacing, and emotional impact. This phase helps you fine-tune the scene for maximum effect.

How can I leave a lasting impact on readers through a death scene?

Leaving a lasting impact involves creating a death scene that resonates emotionally, challenges readers’ perspectives, and reflects the larger themes of your story. It’s about crafting a moment that lingers in readers’ hearts and minds long after they finish reading.

In the world of storytelling, the art of writing a death scene is a profound endeavor, one that requires the writer to masterfully navigate the tumultuous waters of emotion and narrative impact.

As we conclude our exploration of this craft, it becomes evident that a well-crafted death scene is not merely a moment of finality, but a profound exploration of the human condition, a reflection of life’s impermanence, and a mirror through which readers can examine their own experiences and emotions.

Through careful consideration of character development, plot dynamics, and emotional resonance, writers have the power to leave an indelible mark on the audience, reminding us all that even in the face of mortality, stories have the enduring power to evoke empathy, provoke contemplation, and resonate for generations to come.

Related Posts:

• How To Describe Foreshadow Death In Writing (13 Best Ways)
• How To Describe Blood In Writing (10 Best Steps And…
• How To Write Reunion Scenes (10 Best Ways You Need TO Know)

How To Show Surprise In Writing (10 Best Steps)

• How To Describe Fear In Writing (13 Steps You Need To Know)
• What Is A Snapshot In Writing? (Easy Guide & Explained)

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Writing Saved Me from Drowning, and Other Tales of Creativity

It’s hard to write with your feet on the ground when you’re meant to fly..

I sat in a plastic chair with a spiral notebook in an old house-turned-classroom hugged between California oaks and the glory of the Pacific. I’d written some half good, mostly bad poetry for years and cut my teeth on the five-paragraph essay. But this creative writing class opened up like the ocean; it exposed all the waves of unknowing, all the skills I didn’t possess.

Like feeble first steps, I faltered, fell down, and tried again. But I produced sentimental, tie-it-up-with-a-bow stories—the type one imagines freshmen at Christian colleges would produce, the type that someone who’d prided herself on her intellect was loath to own. The only cure for sentimentality is, of course, immersing oneself in the concrete, learning to listen well, and allowing oneself to fail and get up again.

Instead of failing and practicing, I became good at writing about writing. It was safer there. I clutched professorial remarks about following up on a reference letter for a job as a critic. I didn’t consider myself a writer, but I could write about writing. I could slice apart a Shakespearean sonnet, tease out setting and atmosphere in Marilynne Robinson’s Housekeeping, and properly cite my research in MLA format. 

So a few years later, my husband and I flew away to a new home in Scotland where we walked the ancient streets of London and Edinburgh for seminary and a PhD. Our time there smelled like milky tea, the hops brewed on the west end for Scottish ales, salty and malty vinegar and chips, and always, the dusty and slightly dank pages of books in libraries and archives.

Something rose up in me as I watched my PhD supervisor dance through vast swathes of knowledge, holding books gently like babies: this is what I want. I want to flit between ideas, making connections like improv comedy. I want to race alongside the thoughts of dead theologians, literary critics, and colleagues. I wanted to fly.

But instead of flying, I fell flat to the ground, into the stuff of earth, into my body and the bodies of others.

I became a mother. Suddenly what I ate (or didn’t) mattered. In secret and unseen places, a child was knitted together and I desperately wanted to parent perfectly. After nine months and more than a day of labor, my body would not do what it was supposed to do: birth a baby. So the doctor prepped me for surgery, wrenching my intestines aside to deliver my son. My body had failed me.

My husband held him, bathed him. I wallowed in my first maternal failure. There would, of course, be millions more. And there would be more babies.

One son arrived quicker than we anticipated—both in relation to his older brother and delivery time. He came flying into the world a few minutes after we arrived at the hospital. We conceived our third son in Eastern Europe, dashing our dreams of international work and forcing us, again, to stay small, to stay put—to birth babies and college ministries.

And our last baby, a girl after three boys, she would be the joy. She would carry the name of my PhD supervisor. She, too, I knew, would fly. 

But what of me? I was learning what it meant to be a body, but I’d lost my mind a bit in the process. After ten years, my PhD diploma that sat rolled up in a brown paper tube with Scottish postage on it. There was a beauty in pouring oneself out again and again in milk and blood. But something was missing and I wondered if it would ever return. Could I capture light and graceful sentences when I was covered in spit up for yet another year?

My creativity had turned into sleep schedules and feeding schedules, watching what my children ate and how it affected their behavior. Trying desperately to help them to read, imagine, play, believe, all the while the daily stuff of earth began choking me.

I had no story for a liturgy born from the body, for words that started and stopped, for grace that could drip, drip, drip even amongst dirty diapers and endless laundry. I felt guilty. So many women longed for babies and my cup runneth over.

But I was drowning.

So, a few years into motherhood, with four children aged six and under, I sat on our old greenish couch and began writing into the ether. I started a blog. There was no pressure: no grade, no one telling me what I’d forgotten, no one reading or looking over my shoulder. My husband bought me a Wordpress theme and a domain name and booked me a seat on a plane to a writers conference—all to find that girl who longed to fly.

A writing conference felt like extravagance because my time away meant a host of people watching my children, my husband reordering his work schedule, and so much prep work just to leave. It meant money that could be used to fix the car.

In the space of a conference, I began to dream of a creativity measured in book deals, business cards, and invitations to events. Things that would warrant the reshaping of our life, the things that might mean I would come back to life.

I’d learn how to market creativity: I’d be the mommy blogger, I thought, but the smart one, the one with a PhD. So, I put on my heels and made friends. My little ones didn’t need me at a writers conference. Amongst writers, editors, and friends I could take in all of the ideas, shuffle them like cards, and have a quiet moment to simply let them take form.

I didn’t have to manage anyone’s emotions or bodies. And my wings unfurled.

What started as a conversation at that writers conference grew into a book in the swirling confusion where all good things are created—in passion and darkness. At a moment of creation, there is only presence. The book began with my own story, the intoxication of my own sentences, my small efforts to reclaim the creativity of a scared and drowning woman who had neither the words nor the resources for an ordinary life. I endeavored to craft my own extraordinary while I lived my ordinary one.

But in the book’s gestation, it took on its very own life, as both babies and books are apt to do. I’d walk my suburban walking paths to learn how to be in my body, to be present to my children and my neighborhood, and I knew that I would learn how to love a place only as I felt the concrete ground beneath my feet.

I never considered myself a writer. But here I was putting words I created together, step by step. Here I was maternally sheltering and gathering ideas. At times, it felt like flying, but often it felt like plodding bleary-eyed at 5:00 a.m. to write the most infantile words and ideas. But these were baby steps. It was okay to fail, so long as I’d show up.

As I arranged my words, the book became less about me, or business cards, or invitations to events. The book became about my reader—all of the named and nameless faces in the suburban tract homes down my hill. Running along my neighborhood’s path, I crested the top of a hill and raised my hands to the sky broken up by power lines. I realized that my words, if they were to have any power, could not be for me alone. I could never be their only subject.

Stories, if they are true, must always be broken open and given.

I needed this book not only to save me from drowning, I needed it to also speak hope and life for neighborhoods like mine where other people spent their days drowning too. Neighborhoods that have become so inward-turned that we have lost compassion, kindness, and holy imagination for a world made new. I needed a God who would wake all of us from our torpor and give us life. So, I prayed for this book, for my place, and for my own self-absorbed heart.

As Finding Holy in the Suburbs approaches its due date this fall, I’m sure this new creation will surprise me again. As its vernix is scrubbed off, I’ll suddenly realize what I’ve created looks both exactly like and not at all like me.

And isn’t that the way? For, ideas, books, and children take on a life of their own. This is the gloriously mundane way we experience life: by giving up, by giving away, by sticking tirelessly beside people, places, and things. Perhaps faith is always found in the paradox, in the failures, in the delightful turns of both a phrase and of our stories. As we’re tied to the stuff of earth, we’re flying.

Cover image by  Bob Lamotte .

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How do you describe drowning in a story?

I know what drowning is, but I don't know exactly how it feels... how could I describe it in words? I don't have a clue how to write about it, and I've already done a bunch of research and I still have no idea what to do. Help!

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What makes a good death scene?

I'm looking specifically into the written medium ( NOT screenwriting) and the death of an important friendly character.

It's supposed to be a scene to make the reader scream "please, don't", not "yes, die, idiot!"

Are there any known tricks for writing such a scene?

• creative-writing

4 Answers 4

We scream "please don't" because of about half a book's worth of endearments, and making the character like somebody we would like in our own life, or at least in our life if WE were a character in this book (like the protagonist, or somebody else we identify with).

There are some "automatic" endearments for most readers; particularly children. Because they are presumed loved, innocent, weak, less comprehending, and with a whole life ahead of them so they lose so much more: first romances, accomplishments, marriage and/or children, and so on.

Beyond the automatic, what endears us to characters? Humor, bravery, daring, altruism, cleverness (not necessarily brilliance, which can be off-putting or even villianous), and most importantly that they are loved by the main character with whom we identify. By "loved" I mean all forms of it: Parental (and parent-like for grandparents, aunts, uncles, teachers), non-romantic friendly love (with sub-categories of sibling, peer, mentor, mentee, student, teacher, favorite co-worker or teammate), romantic sexualized love (consummated or not, e.g. a spouse, a sexual partner, or a love interest that has not yet progressed to sex, or perhaps sexual congress is terminated (a divorce or illness or frailty prevents it, but the MC is still in love)).

We scream "please don't!" when the loss of the character is a huge loss to another main character we identify with; or if the reader imagines themselves as a friend of the dying character in their world, and loves that character in some fashion.

But that loss has to be built up in the book. The death scene itself can be a few lines: Our beloved character's last words can be "I'm hit." and then he falls down. Or nothing: Many people IRL die without ever realizing they are about to die, they get no last words or gestures, and hear nothing that anybody says to them.

Don't try to write a "death scene." Write a regular scene in which the character dies, and portray as accurately as you can the emotions and actions of those around them, and with them, especially anybody that loved them. Most often, due to human nature, this is NOT instant grief, but shock and denial. Or anger if the death can be blamed on somebody else. Follow the seven stages of grief, it takes TIME for people to realize that death is really death and permanent, and TIME for all the ramifications of not having this person around to come to light in their mind. We cry, both for the loss to the world of a positive force, and the loss to ourselves, including the loss of all future opportunity to share life with the one lost, to vicariously enjoy their successes and joys, to have new adventures and experiences with our friend or our love.

That is real life, and fiction needs to emulate that: If you want us to love and mourn the character death, give us a lot of good reasons to do that, spread out over a hundred or two hundred pages. (You can't do it all in one lump right before you kill them.)

• Seven? I thought there were only five stages of grief. –  F1Krazy ♦ Nov 20, 2017 at 8:49
• 2 @F1Krazy Seven is more useful; especially for writers. See <a href=" recover-from-grief.com/… > (1) Shock & Denial (2) Pain & Guilt (3) Anger & Bargaining (4) Depression, Reflection, Loneliness (5) The Upward Turn (6) Reconstruction & Working Through (7) Acceptance & Hope. (However, the end of grief does not ensure a return to Happiness .) These stages (described in the link) provide a better template for characters working through grief, they are based on a more detailed psychological analysis of actual grievers. IMO, of course. –  Amadeus Nov 20, 2017 at 11:47
• 2 Something wrong with that link, I can't figure it out. Here is the link for seven stages of grief; or Goog 'Seven Stages of Grief" if this also does not work: recover-from-grief.com/7-stages-of-grief.html –  Amadeus Nov 20, 2017 at 12:04
• 1 @Amadeus You can't use HTML links in comments, because you can't use HTML in comments. Instead, use Markdown links or just paste the URL as-is (as I strongly suspect you did in your second comment). A Markdown link is used when you want a descriptive link text, such as [this](http://www.example.com) rendering as this . –  user Nov 20, 2017 at 17:18

As is the case with any scene intended to evoke strong emotion from the reader, 90% of the effect is achieved via the setup. If the reader is going to scream "please don't", it will not be because of how the death scene itself is written. It will be because of how they have come to feel about the character over the entire arc of the story prior to their death. Dickens inspired international mourning with the death of Little Nell without actually describing the deathbed scene at all. ( https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Old_Curiosity_Shop )

This is part of a more general principle which I would describe like this: The power of story is far stronger than the power of words. Indeed, if words have any power at all, it is only because they invoke stories. The emotional moments in your story will get their emotional punch from the shape of the story, not the words you choose to describe them.

Indeed, the struggle to describe an emotional moment is really just a symptom of not having set it up properly. If the moment had been set up properly by the shape of the story, pulling the emotional trigger would be simple and straightforward. If you pull the trigger and nothing happens, it is because you failed to load the gun.

Why do you want the audience to scream "Please, don't!"? Is it because:

• we are supposed to identify with the character, or
• because we think we need the character within the story for some reason?

Spoiler in The Lord of the Rings :

(When Gandalf died, I was primarily upset because it made Frodo's task that much harder, not because I identified with Gandalf.)

For case 1, if we are supposed to identify with the victim at hand, and want the victim to live because death is too bad of a fate, then be sure to set that up as Mark describes .

But, there are other reasons we might scream "Please don't," - and these might be more of the tricks that you are talking about.

For case 2, perhaps the victim has information we need, and the death loses that information. After the death, the protagonists must go through many more struggles, because that information was lost. If only that person hadn't died!! So, give the character that private information.

Or, perhaps the victim was misunderstood. I like when characters are known by the audience to be good and true but thought of as villains by some in the story. Think Snape. Perhaps the person was thought to have been a horrible person, and we learn later that no, the person had other motivations entirely, good and true.

Since this begins to feel like idea generation, I'll stop here.

• You can just like a character (as having an emotional liking to it) without identifying to it. –  GlorfSf Nov 20, 2017 at 15:19
• 1 I think that maybe you should just say “Spoiler about The Lord if the Rings” rather than mentioning a specific character. You are, after all, talking about death in the post so mentioning a character’s name is a spoiler in itself :) –  wgrenard Nov 20, 2017 at 17:29
• @wgrenard Ya, that was not my edit and I am rather doubtful that it is a spoiler, but it does make me LOL that it was edited to call it one. –  SFWriter Nov 20, 2017 at 17:48

As others have said, buildup.

Killing the character just before they are about to accomplish their goal. Character has been on his way home "half the book" to say good bye to his dying mother (so we have had time to build a relationship with him and his dying mother and understand her value to him etc). He have went through blizzards and other hardships, but just before coming to the house [he or his mother] dies.

Now the reader feels "Noooooo, he never got to say his final words to her :'("

Another way is to kill a likable character [that you don't expect to die?]. e.g. Walking Dead

• >"Another way is to kill a likable character" We have to distinguish "how to make people care about death" from "how to make readers sad". If your story requires a character to die, you want this death to make an impact on the reader. However killing a likeable character just to invoke sadness is a cheap tactic. Even worse when the character was created just so they can be killed. –  user31389 Nov 20, 2017 at 16:51

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