Using Symbolism to Capture Emotion
(or, more appropriately, Reaching Inside Your Reader to Twist Her Heart Until It Bleeds Tears)
By Chris Green (w/a Crystal Green) )

Sounds cruel, doesn’t it? But, as writers—as creators—that’s our job. To grasp our readers’ emotions and manipulate them. When words breathe, so do our stories. One of the best ways to do this is through the use of symbolism (technically, an act, sound, or object that represents an idea).

Certain symbols are ingrained in our subconscious: water, fire, colors such as black and white. We all seem to know what these mean, whether it’s purity, danger, evil, or innocence. You can utilize these archetypal touchstones to convey certain aspects of a character or situation. For instance, Darth Vader wore black, and upon first glance, we knew he was evil incarnate. However, when George Lucas created this character, he didn’t just rely on color symbolism. He finessed the details: the Nazi helmet, the intimidating cape, the eerie breathing. By the same token, as a writer, you might want to play with the established symbols, creating fresh variations. Instead of saying, “His eyes were as black as midnight,” how about tweaking the cliché a little? What does your character do at midnight? Does his eye color reflect a dark soul or a crime he’s committed? Maybe, now, his eyes resemble the darkness of a gunpowder stain on a woman’s jaw. How did the gunpowder get there and what does this woman have to do with him? Use your characters’ personalities to extend these symbols, and your reader will more than likely experience a visceral reaction while picturing the image.

Symbols can also be used to foreshadow upcoming plot twists. They can hint at the internal conflicts of your characters, thus making the reader want to turn those pages. What if your hero found a baby rattle among the personal effects of the single-girl heroine? I used this technique in my July Silhouette single title, Double Destiny: First Love. Here, I layered in broken glass symbolism to reference a car accident that the hero experiences within the first few pages; it’s a big part of the resolution. (I also used some other imagery that I can’t reveal, because that would be giving away the “big moment” at the end of the story. Sorry, I can’t help being a tease.) All in all, this technique can be a subtle way of leading your readers where you want them to go.

Sometimes the hero or heroine will have a rival who doesn’t even appear in a story. An ex, a terrible moment from the past, an absentee enemy. If you use a symbol to represent this nemesis, the threat will be present, even if the character isn’t. This technique can be as easy as a past love being symbolized with an old bracelet, and whenever the heroine wears it, the sight tears apart the hero. In my second book, The Pregnant Bride (Silhouette Special Edition, December, 2001), my hero’s rival didn’t show up until the end of the story. I used “Welcome Home, Chad” banners which were fluttering around the town of Kane’s Crossing in order to remind the reader of his presence—and in order to keep my hero on edge whenever he saw one.

Lastly, symbols can be used to hint at another character’s emotions when you’re not in his or her point of view. Let’s go back to the previous paragraph, where the heroine is wearing an old bracelet. But let’s imagine that the hero doesn’t know the significance of the jewelry. However, the audience does know, because we’ve been in the heroine’s point of view and we’ve already been informed of the backstory. Now, say we’re in the hero’s point of view. In this scene, he’s breaking up with the heroine. As he utters the damaging words, she remains calm and seemingly unaffected, but she absently runs her fingers over that bracelet. Even if the hero doesn’t know the jewelry’s story, the reader does, and the heroine’s gesture becomes a “tell.” The audience knows exactly how she’s feeling: She’s upset, having been dumped before, but she’s not about to show the hero how much it hurts. We can feel her pain though, even if we’re not in her head.

Makes sense? I hope so, because symbolism is a very powerful tool. Here are some ways you can brainstorm symbols for your own story:

1.What is your story’s theme?
You might have no clue what your big picture is until the end of your first draft. No sweat. Layer in those symbols during the revision. Or, if you’re like me, you might be a big brainstormer, and you already know exactly what you want to say from page one. Either way, which objects/clothing/jewelry/charms/possessions/acts/sounds, etc. can symbolize this theme? How will your characters react to these symbols?

2.What are your characters’ goals (internal and external)?
Which symbols can represent these goals? Why? What sort of backstory can go along with the symbol? Think about including the object when your characters reach or don’t reach their goals.

3.What are your characters’ motivations (internal and external)?
Which symbols can represent these motivations?

4.What are your characters’ conflicts (internal and external)?
Again, which symbols can represent these conflicts?

5.What is the setting of your book? What makes this place different from other settings? How is the setting representative of your characters’ personalities? What symbols can you work into the setting to represent your characters? How will your characters interpret these symbols from their own unique points of view?

Great works of literature or film use poignant symbols. Think about American Beauty, and how the central image—a rose—meant different things to different people. To the father, it meant sensuality and freedom. To the mother, it represented perfection and constraint. Or think about Psycho, and how birds were used. We heard the screech of their cries on the violins as Marion Crane (whom Norman Bates notes “eats like a bird”) got stabbed in the shower. We see the stuffed corpse of a bird hovering over Norman in the parlor. And then there’s “Mother” (“Why, she’s as harmless as that stuffed bird,” notes Norman). She ends up being stuffed, too.

Ultimately, even if you’re using something as simple as Indiana Jones’s hat to represent his adventurous side or Clark Kent’s glasses to show us his “nerdy” side, figurative language should be a part of every writer’s arsenal.

Fire away.

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Crystal Green writes for Silhouette Special Edition and Harlequin Blaze. Her July release, Double Destiny, was co-written with Judy Duarte and is a 2-in-1 prequel to the new Montana Mavericks continuity. You can visit her at www.crystal-green.com.