Drop the Pen! What Every Writer Should Know about Real Police Work: PTSD

By David Lane Williams

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This month, I thought I’d write about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) as it applies to first responders. I went back and forth about taking on such a serious topic, but my job in this column is to help you comprehend people like me so you can better understand the characters you’re creating. I just took a few deep breaths, and my head is right. Let’s dive in.  

I’ve been streaming The Pitt, a series set in a woefully short-staffed, often hostile, and always overcrowded emergency room in Pittsburgh. Each season tells the story of a single shift in a place where tragedies and miracles happen every hour, and the medical staff is composed of naïve rookies and burning-out veterans. It is a glorious series that has been in my head since the first episode.  

Other than taking a few unnecessary potshots at cops, it felt so real and accurate for me. It took me back to the glory and gore, the terror and elation in those early days working in Austin when AIDS didn’t even have a name yet, and gang violence swamped swaths of the city.

Our “Pitt” was Brackenridge Trauma Center—Brack—and this show hit those old vibes with an accuracy I’ve rarely seen in medical dramas. I experienced adrenaline dumps at some points, heartache at others. I became choked up during some scenes, glad to be alone with just my dogs and all those memories. One of the characters made a comment about crying: “Tears are just grief leaving the body.”

Amen. 

I don’t know a single police officer, paramedic, or firefighter who doesn’t have some emotional scarring after a few years on the job. Like a combat veteran, the carnage and cruelty can get to you after a while. Multiply that times a twenty, thirty, or longer-year career, and there is little to no chance of escaping without some damage. If you’re going to write about veteran first responders, you have to understand that this is part of the story. It doesn’t have to be front and center all the time, but your cop protagonist has a demon inside his brain, and the demon is always whispering. 

The trick is to learn coping skills, the earlier the better. It can be a nightmare if you don’t. Depression, anxiety, and suicide are all facets of the equation. Careers and marriages are cut short, and officers who had always performed rock-solid in the past make rash, bad decisions. 

I’ve always considered myself lucky. My symptoms include some mild anxiety when in public. People close to me notice that I look over my shoulder as I walk through a parking lot and scan the tops and higher windows of buildings. If I sleep on my back, I have nightmares of being attacked or of drowning, so I always place a pillow on either side of me in bed to stop from rolling supine in the middle of the night. I probably check door locks more than necessary, and I use cameras and motion-sensor lights around the perimeter of my house. 

Despite this, I still consider myself an optimist. While I harbor concerns about some humans, I remain hopeful for humanity. I believe our evolutionary path is leading inevitably toward a new species I like to call Homo Pacificus— Peaceful Man. I’m realistic we’re not there yet, but I believe our descendants will make us proud—even as they wonder how the hell we survived one another. 

I know cops who take a pistol with them into the bathroom and shower. They eat family dinners with one strapped to their ankle, and they get almost frantic if their wife forgets the family rule about always being on his off-hand side as they walk in public. They tend not to associate with others outside their police family because they have serious trust issues. 

Part of this trauma is related to specific cases. Perhaps the nightmares come from the images of destroyed children or a body charred in a house fire. Maybe the pain lingers from seeing a teenage girl ripped in two from a car wreck or a mother who committed suicide during a post-partum depression crisis. Maybe it’s from having to tell one too many parents that their child is never coming home again.

Irrational fear and anger can come from too many people treating the officer like the enemy or Satan for doing their job. Imagine starting a career with ambition and a passion to help, only to find you are not trusted or appreciated, and often despised. 

Then, of course, there are the life-shaking moments when someone tries to shoot you or gets the better of you in a deadly street fight. Winston Churchill is quoted as saying, “Nothing in life is so exhilarating as to be shot at without results.” 

He’s right. It’s thrilling to survive a close brush with death, but weeks, months, or years later, the thrill is gone, replaced with jagged nerves and trembling hands. It’s trauma, and it’s real, and it’s prevalent. 

So, how do first responders cope? Some, too many, crawl into a bottle or seek relief through opioids. Others live at the gym, where every rep of every set is a struggle just to keep the demon exhausted, so sleep will finally come. Some take the stress out on their spouses and kids, and others become hermits except when they’re on duty. 

Culturally, PTSD is kept at bay with dark humor. People who have died violently—especially those who were doing something stupid at the time—can be targets of the most obscene jokes back at the station. Someone who died in a fire is a “crispy critter,” and a motorcycle rider without a helmet is an “organ donor.” The only joke territory considered off limits is children. 

I know how appalling this sounds, but that obsidian-dark humor may be the most reliable and effective means of keeping more cops from hurting themselves and others. If you’re writing about a first responder, bleak humor has to be part of the package. Humor bonds first responders, and sarcasm can keep them sane.

As I mentioned, I’m one of the lucky ones. I have a knack for putting bad thoughts in a file cabinet and closing the drawer. As I write this, I know that comes off as denial. I think of myself, however, as an empathetic human being who wants everyone to be safe and feel safe. That can’t always happen, so my ability to put sad or tragic thoughts away for a while has been beneficial. I know there are therapists and care providers out there who just groaned. I’m aware that shutting haunting thoughts deep into the recesses of my mind might not be the best long-term practice, yet I could also argue it has worked well in my life for four decades. 

I used to carry a little bottle of soap bubbles in my duty jump bag. The kind kids blow at birthday parties. Sometimes I’d pull into a secluded area such as a park or an empty drive-in theater when all the filmgoers had gone home. I would then stand outside my car and blow bubbles, watching them rise and fade in the dark. This practice had a way of taking the edge off whatever stress I’d been fighting. Four, five, maybe six bubble blows later, I’d be ready for whatever the Dispatch Center sent me on next. I never shared this with my colleagues—no one needs a nickname like “Bubbles” in a police squad room—but it was a coping mechanism that worked for me. 

I continue to be proactive in retirement. I exercise six to seven days a week, and I only hang around with people who are healthy, balanced, and humorous. Writing is about the best medicine for me. I don’t self-medicate with opioids, and I am not much of a drinker. I have a wife who cares about me, checks in, and listens. My veteran sons understand me about as well as anyone could, and I am surrounded by family and friends who I know will always be by my side. 

I believe PTSD is like sludgy sewage that has been dumped into a river. It is awful and destructive, but given time, coupled with being around good people and action designed to mitigate the pollutants, the river can clear the toxins. 

Your protagonist has PTSD in some form—why do you think there are so many alcoholic private detectives out there in noir land? I am convinced that writers who keep this in mind create deeper and far more interesting characters. 

And just in case you were thinking about having your guy blow bubbles, I’ve already called dibs on that one.  

Onward.

The Writer's Life: Coming Up with the Idea for Your Novel

As Killer Nashville Special Projects Coordinator, Beth Terrell has worked with many writers. She has calculated from their successes; she has avoided pitfalls by observing their failures. And through this association and her own tenacity, Beth Terrell (writing as Jaden Terrell) has also become a Killer Nashville success story, a story that is well deserved, and a story for which we at Killer Nashville are ecstatic. We could not be prouder.

Now, Beth is passing what she has learned to you.

In this monthly column, Beth will share her journey while also referencing the paths of different writers who have come into our Killer Nashville family. It is a journey worth learning from and it will save years – maybe decades – if you will only follow her along. From writing to promoting, a writer’s job never ends.

Where is the best place to start this series? At the beginning: with The Idea.

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The Writer's Life Coming Up with the Idea for Your Novel
By Beth Terrell

SO YOU WANT TO WRITE A NOVEL?

So, you want to write a novel? Specifically, you want to write a mystery, thriller, or other type if crime fiction. Maybe you've always dreamed of being a writer. Maybe you've pursued other dreams and are just now coming to the realization that writing a book is something you'd really like to do.

Good for you!

Most people secretly dream of writing a book; yet, most never even finish a first draft.

This series of upcoming articles is designed to take you from the seed of an idea through your first draft, the revision process, publishing, and marketing your novel. I’m not going to tell you the “right” way to write a book. There is no one right way, only the way that works for you. But I can show you one way to write a novel, and then help you tailor it to your individual needs.

Somerset Maugham said, "There are three rules for writing a great novel. Unfortunately, nobody knows what they are." So you won’t find any ironclad rules here, only processes that can help you clarify your ideas and organize them into a coherent, and eventually, a polished story.

Much of the process involves asking yourself questions.

WHAT DO YOU KNOW RIGHT NOW?

The first one is, what do you already know about your book? Maybe you already have a main character. Maybe you know you want to write a cozy, a thriller, or police procedural. Maybe you already have a plot sketched out, or maybe you just have an image, like the one of a little girl in muddy underpants that gave birth to William Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury.

However much or little you know about your book, you’ll answer subsequent questions within the context of what you’ve already decided. If you make a choice that doesn’t mesh with your previous decisions, you’ll either need to change one or more of your earlier choices, or figure out a way to make the incompatibility work in your favor.

Let’s say you want to write a gritty, high-tech thriller with lots of violence and explosions. A frail, near-sighted beekeeper with sciatica whose hobby is stamp-collecting and who is so technologically challenged he doesn’t even own a computer or a cell phone would be an unlikely protagonist.

But what if you’re married to both these ideas?

 First, you’ll need to give your beekeeper a reason to get involved in your thriller plot (maybe he saw something he shouldn’t), a motivation to continue (now his life or the life of a loved one is in danger), and a believable means of overcoming his physical limitations (perhaps with the help of a secondary character who does possess the necessary skills). He should find a way to use his knowledge of bees, stamps, or sciatica to overcome or outwit the villains. He’ll need to have strengths he never knew he possessed. And the reader will need to see a hint of those strengths early in the story.

You can write a great book by going against expectations, but you have to do some work to make it believable.

What questions you ask yourself and the order in which you ask them depends on what you already know about your story, but since we have to start somewhere, let’s start at the very beginning: what kind of book do you want to write?

WRITE WHAT YOU READ

There’s a good chance the book you should write is like the ones you like to read. If you love romantic suspense, that might be a good genre for you to start with. If you despise romantic novels, but think you could just dash one off and make a bushel of money because they sell like hotcakes, maybe you should consider another genre. It's almost impossible to write well in a genre for which you feel contempt; readers who love the genre will sense your disdain and resent it. (Bigfoot porn seems to be an exception to this rule. You might be able to haul in a boatload with money with some dashed-off Bigfoot porn.)

There are no bad genres. The best of any genre is just as literary as the best literary novel. Think The Big Sleep, In Cold Blood, and To Kill a Mockingbird. These are considered great literature, but what are they, if not crime novels?

Pick a genre or subgenre you like and feel comfortable writing in, and don’t worry about whether it’s “literary” or not. It should be the kind you like to read, but also one you can write knowledgeably about—or one that you can (and want to) research well enough to write knowledgeably about.

Sometimes the amount or kind of research you're willing and able to do influences your decision about what book to write. Maybe you like books set in ancient Egypt, but you know nothing about ancient Egypt and don't particularly want to do the intensive study it would take to find out. Then by all means, keep reading mysteries set in ancient Egypt, but choose something different to write about.

But what if you're not even sure if you're writing a detective novel, a police procedural, or a novel with an amateur sleuth? What if you're not sure what kind of book you're most drawn to? Or what if you're an eclectic reader and love all sorts of books?

Let's try an exercise.

GET OUT A PAPER AND PEN

Write down the titles of your ten favorite crime novels. Ask yourself what you like about each one and what they have in common. Do you see any patterns?

Let's say you have on your list: Janet Evanovitch, Parnell Hall, Donna Andrews, and Agatha Christie. You might be more comfortable writing a cozy mystery, possibly humorous with little graphic sex or violence, because those are the kinds of books you like to read.

But imagine you have on your list: John Sandford, John Connolly, Thomas Harris, and James Lee Burke. There's a good chance you’re going to want to write a darker, grittier story.

What if you have an equal mix of both? Then you might feel comfortable writing several different kinds of books, and other concerns, such as characters and theme (which we’ll address later in this series), will help you decide what kind of book you should write now.

My list included writers from both of the above lists, but more from the second. I noticed that my favorite books had a serious tone and complex characters I wanted to re-visit: Jonathan Kellerman's Alex Delaware, William Kent Krueger’s Cork O’Connor, Robert Crais’ Joe Pike and Elvis Cole. I may not remember the plot of A is for Alibi, but I do remember that Sue Grafton’s Kinsey Milhone was orphaned at a young age and was raised by her aunt, that she likes small, enclosed spaces, and that she was once married to a gorgeous but irresponsible musician. I read Grafton's books because I like Kinsey. I read Janet Evanovitch's books, even though they’re lighter than I usually read, because I like Stephanie Plum. (Joe Morelli and Ranger have nothing to do with it. No, really... )

What this tells me is that I like books with multi-dimensional characters with deep connections and relationships. Based on my reading habits, this is what I would expect to enjoy writing, and if you look at my Jared McKean series, it turned out to be true. Jared has complex relationships with his brother, his ex-wife, his ex-wife's new husband, and his roommate (a gay man with AIDS). These relationships drive the story and provide a unifying thread through all the books in the series.

SERIES OR STAND-ALONE?

Another question to consider is whether your novel is part of a series or a stand-alone. If you plan to kill off your protagonist, you're probably not writing a series, unless your genre is paranormal.

A stand-alone novel has a story arc, in which the protagonist changes or grows in some way over the course of the story. You’re writing about the single most life-changing event in your character’s life. When it’s over, life goes on in an ordinary way, though his or her circumstances or perceptions may have changed considerably.

A series character might (and should) also undergo changes, but within a single book, these changes may be relatively small. Instead, although each book stands alone, there’s a greater story arc that covers the entire series. Think of Lawrence Block's Matthew Scudder. While Scudder reacts to the events of each book, the major changes of his life take place over the course of the series. He acknowledges his alcoholism, joins AA, and learns to control his urge to drink. He dates a series of women, falls in love with a former prostitute, marries her, and begins to reconcile (after a fashion) with the adult sons of his first marriage. If all that happened in a single book, where would he have left to go?

SERIES OR STANDALONE?

If you envision a series, your main character needs to be a multi-faceted character with enough complications and entanglements to sustain a reader's interest for the long haul. If your series contains twenty-six novels (A is for Alibi to Z is for...Ziggurat?), your character had better be up to the task.

In a series, it's especially important that your protagonist is someone you like well enough to invest a hefty chunk of time with. If you don't enjoy your character’s company, how can you expect anyone else to? And what if you should be fortunate enough to write a bestseller? With a million readers clamoring for more, will you like this character enough to live with him or her for a decade or longer?

Again, look to your reading habits. Do you like to follow a favorite character through a series of books? Or do you prefer a stand-alone novel, where you meet a character for the first and last time in a single, self-contained story?

YOU CAN ALWAYS CHANGE YOUR MIND

Think about it.

Make your list.

It doesn't have to be ten writers. It could be two. It could be twenty.

As long as it helps you understand something about what draws you to a story--and what keeps you coming back for more--it's fine.

And remember, nothing is carved in stone. You can always change your mind later, if a better idea comes to you.

That’s the beauty of writing.

See you next month.

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Jaden Terrell (Beth Terrell) is a Shamus Award finalist, a contributor to Now Write! Mysteries (a collection of writing exercises by Tarcher/Penguin), and the author of the Jared McKean private detective novels Racing The Devil, A Cup Full of Midnight, and River of Glass. Terrell is the special programs coordinator for the Killer Nashville conference and the winner of the 2009 Magnolia Award for service to the Southeastern Chapter of Mystery Writers of America (SEMWA). A former special education teacher, Terrell is now a writing coach and developmental editor whose leisure activities include ballroom dancing and equine massage therapy. www.jadenterrell.com.