Before I begin: On Friday evening, I was in a car accident (which actually inspired this post). It was a front-end collision between two cars on a steep mountain road, and we were all very lucky not to be seriously injured. I would like to take a moment to give some credit to a device to saves countless lives every year, and which definitely saved me from serious injury (or worse) on Friday: a seatbelt. Seriously, people, don’t even take it off for a second. You just never know when something might happen. I’m in considerable pain right now from the whiplash and the abdominal and chest bruising that the seatbelt gave me, but I don’t even want to think about what I’d be going though if that seatbelt hadn’t been securely fastened around me. Just think of it as the last line of defense between you and the windshield and BUCKLE UP! Okay, now onto my post.
Right after my accident, I joined the other members of Lantern Hollow Press (minus Don, sadly) and a few of our non-LHP friends for a Lord of the Rings extended edition marathon that lasted until early Saturday morning. Watching the characters suffer far worse injuries than my own, I was amazed at some of the really unbelievable feats they were able to accomplish. In one memorable scene, Boromir, with an arrow sticking out of his chest (right around the region of his heart), was still able to keep fighting with vigor and could easily lift both arms to do so. Sorry if this disappoints or disillusions anyone, but Boromir’s actions were, well, about as possible as a dog getting run over by a semi and then jumping up and playing fetch.
How much can a human body reasonably take and still be able to function? And just what do injuries do to the human body? In my experiences, I’ve learned several answers to these questions. For example, following my collision on Friday, I find that I cannot bend easily, walking is slow and painful, moving my head is an invitation to misery, and getting up and down from a chair is a drawn-out process that I prefer to avoid. So in other words, using my own experience as a guide, if your character is in a car or carriage accident, don’t expect her to be dancing the next day or running from bad guys without gasping out in serious pain. Expect an intake of breath when your character stands or sits, and remember that such actions as sneezing and yawning are going to make her grimace.
Many authors seem to make their characters, though supposedly human, ridiculously invincible. One book that springs to mind is John Buchan’s The Thirty-Nine Steps (yes, Hitchcock did base his 1935 film off this book, albeit quite loosely). Buchan’s hero, Richard Hannay, is in a car crash and then promptly runs for miles and miles across uneven terrain in Scotland, pursued by loads of men with guns (and even a plane). He even takes a road worker’s place for a day and does heavy labor in the midst of all this! Take it from me, considering the vast improvements in modern automobiles and the fact that Hannay was driving much faster than I was (of course, I was not being pursued), he HAD to be hurting even worse than me. But nothing fazes him! The character is an energizer bunny: he just keeps going, and going, and going, and going . . .
In any injury or traumatic event, you need to take into consideration that every muscle in your character’s body (assuming they are human — mythical creatures are, of course, a completely different situation) is going to tense up. This is part of the normal human reaction to situations. It helps us to survive a crisis, but it hurts like heck the next day. So if Sir Sigmund Smoldereyes is in a carriage that gets tipped over, he’s not just going to have the carriage-related injures to contend with; he’s also going to have lethargy and muscle aches the next day, and possibly into the next week, depending on how bad of a crash it was and how much it stressed him. It’s also a common human reaction to replay traumatic events in our minds long after they occur. So, consider haunting the swarthy Sir Sigmund with nightmares or tension in his back and neck the first few times back in a carriage. You might even have him reluctant to ride in one for some time after. People are complex creatures — they don’t always get over things instantly. Some experiences haunt for a long time, even when a person seems pretty sturdy on the outside.
It takes the body time to heal after an injury. To give another example, if your character receives a black eye from a jilted fiance, don’t expect it to disappear in a day, or even a week. One of my black eyes took more than three weeks to go away, and turned that side of my face all sorts of lovely colors. In another black eye experience (yes, yes, we all know by now that I am a card-carrying klutz), I got a blackened left eye from running into a candle holder on a wall, and my right eye developed a sympathy black eye. Two for the price of one! And be sure to remember the gorgeous varied colors and shades of bruises that cascade down the face following a black eye — it’s seldom just the eye that gets affected, no matter where the actual impact was. Bodies are artistic like that.
In short, injuries are a serious matter. When one of your (human) characters gets hurt, he or she will need time and care to heal. Having a character miraculously keep going constantly is not only unbelievable, it sometimes gets so ridiculous that it distracts from your story. Furthermore, most injuries bring other injuries, conditions, and such along with them. Black eyes bring extra bruises, stress causes sore muscles and tension headaches, accidents give you pains in places you didn’t even know you had . . . in short, it’s a miracle that we’re all still functioning, with such fiendish bodies as we must contend with.
To get an idea of how sword injuries affect the human body, read Brian’s post HERE.