
Writing from Wounds
We remember the ones who limp.
Not just the characters with physical scars—but the ones carrying something heavier. The ones who hurt, who wrestle with ghosts. Who lash out at the wrong people or sabotage their own peace, not because they’re bad, but because they’ve been broken in some way. And they’re still trying to make sense of it.
That’s what I mean when I say: every great character is haunted.
This is something I’ve come to believe deeply—not just as a writer, but as a reader, and a person. We connect with characters who’ve been hurt, who’ve failed, who are afraid. Not because they’re likeable, but because they’re real.
So today I want to talk about wounds—what they are, why they matter, and how I try to write them in my own stories.
What Is a Character Wound?
In simple terms: a wound is a past experience that changed your character in a lasting way. Not a paper cut, but something that altered how they see themselves or the world around them.
It could be betrayal, grief, trauma, shame, exile, war. But the key thing is this: the wound creates a belief.
“I’m not worthy of love.”
“Power always corrupts.”
“If I get close to people, I’ll lose them.”
“No one will protect me but me.”
That belief starts to shape their choices—sometimes without them even realizing it. And that’s what makes it powerful. Wounds aren’t decoration. They’re not just backstory. They’re the engine of a good character arc.
Why Wounds Matter
We don’t read stories to see perfect people do perfect things. We read to see someone wrestle with something that feels bigger than them—and sometimes win, and sometimes not.
Here’s what wounds do:
- They create emotional realism. Readers might not share your character’s circumstances, but they get fear. They get regret. They get the longing to be seen.
- They generate conflict. A wounded character will push others away. Or trust too fast. Or sabotage the very thing they need. That makes for compelling story movement.
- They give shape to arcs. Whether your character heals, hides, or succumbs to their wound—that journey gives the story its emotional weight.
- They add theme. If your story is about redemption, sacrifice, justice—then wounds are where those themes live.
A Few from My Own Work
In Fury of the Lost, I didn’t set out to write characters with trauma. I set out to write truth. But truth and pain are often entangled. So here are a few that emerged:
Aeros
Once a revolutionary. Then a war criminal. Then a runaway husband. Now a slave. He carries guilt like a second skin. His wound is betrayal—of others, of himself. And it shapes everything he does. He restrains himself constantly, afraid of the man he used to be.
Talarain
She lost too many people too young. She survived things she shouldn’t have. Her wound is grief. It fuels her bravery, but also her recklessness. She fights for the living because she’s haunted by the dead.
Djeodi
He was exiled from his homeland, betrayed by someone he loved. His wound is shame. And yet, he chooses to lead, to mentor, to believe in people again. That choice is what makes him strong—not his skill, but his refusal to let his wound define him.
None of these wounds are just backstory. They shape the characters’ relationships, their fears, their choices, their capacity for love—or revenge.
How to Write Character Wounds
There’s no formula. But there are a few things I’ve learned (the hard way) that might help:
- Dig deeper than the event. Don’t just ask “what happened?” Ask “what did it make them believe?”
- Make it personal. Don’t grab a generic trauma off the shelf. Root it in who that character is. A wound that destroys one person might barely dent another.
- Show it in action. Don’t tell me your character was abandoned—show me how they flinch when someone promises to stay.
- Let it evolve. A wound isn’t static. It festers, heals, reopens. That’s the arc.
Want a quick exercise? Ask yourself:
- What’s the one thing this character would never admit out loud?
- What’s the one thing they secretly wish could be true?
The gap between those two answers? That’s often where the wound lives.
What to Watch Out For
Even good intentions can go sideways. A few common pitfalls:
- Trauma as aesthetic. Don’t give your character a tragic past just to make them “dark” or interesting. Readers can tell when you’re faking it.
- Instant healing. Emotional recovery takes time. A speech or a hug doesn’t undo years of damage.
- Overused tropes. Dead parents, frigid lovers, broken warriors—they can work, but only if you make them your own. Add specificity. Add contradiction. Make it human.
- No consequences. A wound that doesn’t affect relationships or behavior isn’t a real wound. It’s just flavor text.
Final Thoughts: Broken and Beautiful
The truth is—we’re all carrying something. And the characters that last, the ones we carry with us long after the story ends, are the ones that reflect that truth.
So if you’re building a character, don’t start with what they can do. Start with what they’ve lost. What they regret. What they wish they could take back. That’s where their humanity lives.
And that’s what makes us care.
Don Elliott | Contact | Privacy Policy | Copyright 2023