Lina of the Little Fields

I’ve started posting poems on IG for those of you interested 💖

(Without Making Them Walking Tragedies)

╰ Start with the scar, not the stabbing. Everyone talks about what happened to your character (The Big Trauma) but honestly? It’s the aftermath that matters. Show me the limp, not the bullet wound. Show me the way they flinch at kindness or double-check locks three times. The wound shapes them more than the event ever did.

╰ Don't make them "Sad All The Time" People with deep hurts aren’t just dramatic sob machines. They make bad jokes. They find weird hobbies. They have good days and then get wrecked by a song in a grocery store. Layers, my friend. Pain is complex and it sure as hell isn’t aesthetic.

╰ Let them almost heal and then backslide. Real healing isn’t linear. One good conversation doesn’t erase ten years of bottled-up grief. Your character might think they’re over it, and then one tiny thing, a smell, a phrase, a look, knocks them right back into the hole. Make them earn their healing. Make us ache for them.

╰ Give them armor and show the cracks. Maybe it’s sarcasm. Maybe it’s perfectionism. Maybe it’s taking care of everyone else so no one notices they're broken. Whatever mask they wear, show us the hairline fractures. Let us catch the moments where they almost drop the act.

╰ Don’t turn their trauma into their only personality trait. Yes, they’ve been through hell. But they also love spicy chips and bad reality TV. They have dumb crushes and secret dreams. A tragic backstory isn’t a substitute for a full human being. Let them be more than the worst thing that ever happened to them.

╰ Let their wound warp their decisions. People protect their wounds. Even badly. Especially badly. They might sabotage good relationships. Or push away help. Or cling too tightly. Make their past live in their choices, not just their flashbacks.

╰ Don’t make the world validate them for existing. Not everyone is going to understand your wounded character. Some people will misunderstand them. Blame them. Get frustrated. And honestly? That’s real. Let your character find their people, after facing the ones who don’t get it. It’s so much sweeter that way.

╰ Wounds can make them kinder—or crueler. Pain changes people. Some become protectors. Some become destroyers. Some do both, depending on the day. Let your character’s hurt make them complicated. Unpredictable. Human.

I love writing characters who think they’re fine but are actually walking emotional house fires with bad coping mechanisms.

They stop doing the things they used to love and don’t even notice. Their guitar gathers dust. Their favorite podcast becomes background noise. Their hobbies feel like homework now.

They pick the path of least resistance every time, even when it hurts them. No, they don’t want to go to that thing. No, they don’t want to talk to that person. But whatever’s easier. That’s the motto now.

They’re tired but can’t sleep. Or they sleep but wake up more tired. Classic burnout move: lying in bed with their brain racing like a toddler on espresso.

They give other people emotional advice they refuse to take themselves. “You have to set boundaries!” they say—while ignoring 8 texts from someone they should’ve cut off three emotional breakdowns ago.

They cry at something stupidly small. Like spilling soup. Or a dog in a commercial. Or losing their pen. The soup is never just soup.

They say “I’m just tired” like it’s a personality trait now. And not like… emotionally drained to the bone but afraid to admit it out loud.

They ghost people they love, not out of malice, but because even replying feels like too much. Social battery? Absolutely obliterated. Texting back feels like filing taxes.

They stop reacting to big things. Catastrophes get a blank stare. Disasters feel like “just another Tuesday.” The well of feeling is running dry.

They avoid being alone with their own thoughts. Constant noise. TV always on. Music blasting. Because silence = reckoning, and reckoning is terrifying.

Love is terrifying. Especially for characters who’ve been hurt, shut down, or raised to believe vulnerability is weakness. So when they start falling? It doesn’t look like a Disney montage. It looks like panic in slow motion.

✧ They start noticing everything and it unsettles them. The way their voice cracks when they laugh. The way their fingers tap when they’re thinking. These little details burrow in and refuse to leave. And that awareness makes the character feel exposed.

✧ They become hyperaware of their own body. Where their hands are. How close they’re standing. If they’re blushing. It’s like being inside a body that’s betraying them constantly.

✧ They act a little mean. Not because they are mean. But because being cold is safer than being real. Sarcasm, distance, teasing, they use it like armor.

✧ They hate how much they want to share things. They’ll see a funny meme and instinctively want to send it. Then stop. No. Don’t get attached. They want to tell them about a childhood memory, then bite it back. Too personal.

✧ They become inconsistent. Warm one moment, distant the next. Showing up, then pulling away. They’re testing how much of themselves they can reveal before it feels like too much.

✧ They assume the worst. They know it won’t last. That this person will leave. That they’re misreading everything. Love doesn’t feel safe, it feels like a countdown to pain.

✧ They self-sabotage. Pick fights. Flake on plans. Pull away emotionally just to “protect themselves” before it goes wrong. It’s tragic and messy and real.

✧ They notice silence more. What wasn’t said. A delayed reply. A joke that didn’t land. Everything becomes a sign that maybe this love thing was a mistake.

✧ They want to run, but never do. The desire to bolt is constant. But they don’t. Because something about this person is pulling them back, despite every warning bell going off in their head.

academy

adventurer's guild

alchemist

apiary

apothecary

aquarium

armory

art gallery

bakery

bank

barber

barracks

bathhouse

blacksmith

boathouse

book store

bookbinder

botanical garden

brothel

butcher

carpenter

cartographer

casino

castle

cobbler

coffee shop

council chamber

court house

crypt for the noble family

Osijek, Croatia.

Leaf art by Nicola Faller of Slama Art project.

August 2021.

Me eating breakfast: I want to write

Me getting ready for work: I want to write

Me at work: I want to write

Me eating lunch: I want to write

Me driving home: I want to write

Me at home, sitting in front of my laptop: