My church congregation in Colorado Springs finally started meeting in person again in August. Though we could only meet every other week, it was so good to be back. This congregation was short on people who could play the organ, so I ended up doing it at each meeting. Thus, between the pandemic and my inability to sing and play simultaneously without messing up, I haven't gotten to sing in church for months.
Now that I've moved to Aurora, things are different. The congregation here can meet every week, and they already have an organist. So I can finally sing again!
Problem: Though I've been wearing a mask outside the house for months, I'd never sung with a mask on until last week.
It turns out that I take much bigger breaths than I thought when I sing. That became painfully clear yesterday as I practically swallowed my mask every time I inhaled and still couldn't get the amount of air I wanted. I was never in danger of passing out or choking or anything, but it was frustrating.
Just as the pandemic has affected both large and small aspects of our everyday lives, our characters' life-altering experiences should trickle down into multiple areas of their existence. Authors often seem to forget this. To paraphrase a wise Pinterest post (that, as usual, I can no longer find), a character who's been through something major should have more than just impressive scars that only turn up when they make the character look cool. Just like a real person, a character should try to do things the way they used to, only to realize that's no longer possible or necessary. For example . . .
Latoya stops by a colleague's cubicle for their usual afternoon chat but only finds an empty space to remind her that said colleague has recently retired.
A few months after major surgery, Nate is startled to realize that his operated-on shoulder no longer hurts every time he moves his arm.
Allie still instinctively turns whenever she hears someone say, "Mom," even though her youngest child left for college three months ago.
While he knows cognitively that no one will hurt or yell at him for his mistakes anymore, Rafael's abusive childhood still pushes him to find out the exact rules and expectations for every situation so he can keep himself safe.
Having moved to Egypt for work, Mariana returns to Illinois to visit family for Christmas and spends the entire vacation wrapped up in blankets because she's no longer used to the cold.
Bob goes to his favorite restaurant to console himself after a breakup, but because he and his ex-girlfriend used to eat there often, a flood of sadness takes him by surprise.
Tamika had no idea how many times she'd have to answer the question, "What happened to you?" after breaking her ankle. And she's getting sick of it. (If you'd like to learn more about the trickle-down effects of this kind of injury, check out my blog post "What Writers Need to Know about Lower-Leg Injuries.")
After losing a team member, a group of superheroes recruits a replacement, only to discover in the heat of battle that her style doesn't mesh with theirs. At all.
While many of these examples highlight negative effects, don't forget to show positive ones, too. They're often slower to appear or harder to recognize than negative effects, but they do pop up as time, greater understanding, and treatment help characters heal and adjust.
If you'd like more coaching in this area, click here to schedule a time for us to chat about it.
Write on,
Candice
(Thanks to Michael Jin for sharing their work on Unsplash.)
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