: Re: How do I write a gory scene? I'm trying to write some gory scenes. I'm having a few problems, though. I asked around online and determined that I need to really highlight the senses when

@Deb2945533

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What you need to do is put the emotional condition of the viewpoint character front and center, not the gore of the scene. Hannibal Lecter would have a very different emotional response to a gory sequence than, say, Buddy the Elf. Write from the viewpoint character's reaction.

Also, consider that what the reader will feel is not gore, but fascination, or revulsion, or something else.

You need to capture the interiority of the viewpoint character, who we are living through, and know that our experience is not theirs, but parallel to theirs. Here, I'll assume you've written a nice hero in the viewpoint protagonist's role. In such a case, any gore will be overwhelming, horrible, nauseating. But using those particular words won't convey any sense of gore, because they are external descriptions. Black words on a white page. If I say to you, He heaved, bile in his throat, bile a thousand times more bitter than the worst bile he'd ever tasted, you'll be all like, "OK."

Instead, use this trick:

(Set the scene.)
Identify the big emotion the character is feeling.
Find small details, hints, etc in the scene that the character focuses on.
Explain (show) why the characters drawn to that detail.
What will the character feel that is secondary to the primary emotion?
How will they be changed by this experience?
What will they say or think that is particularly appropriate?

That's a guide to think about how to approach this, and here's a quick mock up (bad, overwritten, but for an example):

Bodies, limbs rent apart, the forest soil soaking blood before it could spread. Anthony heaved at the sight, turned, and leaned against a massive oak, his eyes wet. He'd caught a glimpse of Gabrielle's sweet face amongst the carnage.

Dear Gabrielle! The years they'd spent fostered as siblings rushed back in aching clarity. She lay there, behind him in the carnage, wearing her betrothal gown--the white lace he'd so gaily suggested not three weeks prior and now stained brown and red. Shredded. He sobbed, sobbed more, tears streamed freely. The bark under his palm, rough and unforgiving, that bark had no tears, but his own refused to stop. Gabrielle!

It didn't need to be so; these massacres so senseless, so unneeded, and a single black heart at their root. One man, no more. Find that heart, that devil, and end this.

In that moment, Anthony knew. This would be his quest.

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