Grief's an odd thing, especially for writing. It's not an everyday kind of emotion like anger, hatred, love, jealousy, or any of the other standards in the character playbox. In fact, I'd argue that it isn't even an emotion, but a mental state, like depression or mania or delusion.

As writers, grief is a difficult thing to communicate subtly. Where emotions have easily recognised shorthands - the clenched muscles of anger, the narrow-eyed petty sniping of jealousy - grief is not a cookie-cutter feeling. Each person journeys through a process entirely unique, based on their own personal baggage and their experience with the person, creature or thing they have lost. Some people cry. Some scream. Some turn to alcohol for numbness, others are numb in their own right.

Even the process we're given - the five stages of death, or five stages of grieving - are not one-size-fits all. Not everyone goes through all five stages - some may not travel through any, but instead opt for a far less recognisable way of dealing. 

That's the key factor, here, though. Grief is a way of dealing, of coping. The mind has to rewrite its world map to exist without that thing, dream, idea or person. The more pivotal the mind's map was on the aforementioned, the more there is to rewrite, the more devastating the grief, and the longer the coping and recovery process will last.

Grief is particularly difficult to write primarily because it is so individual to the circumstance. Many of us haven't experienced the depths of grief we plan to fling our characters into. But before they slump to their knees keening, or sob over a broken cup, have a thought for the inner character.

What emotional luggage do they carry that they might bring up, here? Are they suddenly realising their mortality? Seeing parts of themselves in the deceased they'd rather not? What thoughts are repeating endlessly, what trivial details are they obsessing over? That they never thanked the person for a small gift one time? Or that the last thing they said may have been taken poorly?

Are they afraid of their own strong emotions? Will they try to run away from the situation, either by burying themselves in their work, or helping others, or literally fleeing? Or will they wallow in the self-pity and sorrow? Will they turn the situation back on to themselves, making it all about them again, or will they focus wholly on others? Will they cope perfectly well, getting on with life and helping those around them, with not even a pause for the pain?

What your character does here, how they cope with major grief is perhaps one of the strongest revelations of their inner self. Don't make them do the expected thing - a selfish character being yet more selfish makes them feel two dimensional. The general rule of thumb is that a character's surface characteristics are the opposite of what they really are underneath. It's where we get the 'roundedness' from, and character growth, as the surface characteristics are slowly subsumed by the deeper ones. 

So take a hard look at your characters - what's really going on on the inside?  Grief is something that tears down the walls, exposes the inner person. Take that opportunity, give us a glimpse of the man of honour inside the snide little villain, or the selfish brat inside the heroine. Because an off-the-rack sobfest does nothing for your characters or your reader.

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