As writers we may be tempted to let our characters be driven and battered by the raging waters of our plot, leaving them to only grab an occasional breath (for pacing), but we cheat the readers if we do. Too often in the floods of life, we experience the phenomenon called laminar flow, where larger more critical elements lurk below the surface, beyond our hero's groping toes. If we only focus on what he sees when he pops to the surface, our readers miss most of the internal conflict and thus the power of the flood. This is no better than the sixty-second film clips we are fed by the local news team from the safety of their high ground or news chopper.
Life, like the flood, is more than the churning waters in view one moment to vanish the next. Boulders, railroad cars and tractor-trailer rigs, tumble along the bottom, hidden from all but our hero when he is sucked into the depths. Like gold, the items of greatest value will gravitate to the bottom. It is our jobs as writers to risk these emotional hazards and dive into the dangerous places to retrieve a few of these treasures. The dark secrets that thud along the bottom are the home of the emotional scars and character flaws that shape your hero. The reader needs to feel these wounds to understand the deeper meaning of his struggle.
Face it. Everyone has things they'd rather not admit. We spend our lives protecting old wounds, or fighting personal demons. Why shouldn't our hero demonstrate these same flaws and reality?
A character should develop and evolve if the experience is to mean anything to the reader. Give him something to discover about himself while he struggles to reach solid ground or save the world. Let him dive into the depths and face his inner fears, which will likely be more frightening to him than drowning in the raging waters.
Many writers don't understand how to write male emotion without sounding phony. He isn't likely to confess this to anyone since he won't even admit it to himself. There are ways to do this without leaving your character limp as an emotional dishrag. Let us take a crewman of the Enola Gay, seeing the devastation the atomic blast at Hiroshima at close range. It might go something like this:
"Ballard stirred through the ashes with the polished toe of his boot. The 'lucky' survivors had scavenged everything that could be traded for scraps of food. All that remained were worthless remnants of vaporized lives among the ruins of charred homes. Passing Japanese civilians accused him with their stares. The bleached bones of a large concrete building still stood at ground zero. Ballard staggered to a stop atop the bridge and stared at the smoky shadow burned into the concrete railing. The blast had cooked the shadow of a woman into the cement, a ghost he knew would haunt him forever."
First, the act of stirring with his toe parallels the rummaging he is doing in his soul. On the outside he is as shiny as his boots are, yet inside he is awash in ashes. He hasn't said a word, but from what he sees, we reveal his anguish. Also notice the words used to describe the setting: the bare bones of the building, the ghost of the woman's shadow, charred homes not houses, and the accusing eyes. Notice how these words paint a Kabuki face on his emotions without having him admit his inner torment.
Don't be afraid to dive to the bottom of the flood and give the readers a glimpse of your character's inner torment. Even if your character never discusses it with another person, these snapshots of his emotion are what gives him soul.