We’ve talked about the Pyramid of Abstraction but there’s a much older, yet quite similar concept I’d love to introduce you to called “haecceity”.
It’s a philosophical term used to describe the individual uniqueness of someone or something – the properties which make an entity distinct from all other entities.
It’s what makes something “this” particular thing, versus “that” or another. While a pair of apples may look similar at the outset, they each will have their own unique features which set them apart. Bringing it further, haecceity can help you distinguish between seemingly identical twins.
You’ll see this term pop up in aesthetics, logic, and metaphysics. It’s quite profound to think about the nature of unique individuality and one’s purpose on this planet, even among a population of billions, even on the scale of the Universe.
It’s also a clever writing trick, one heavily developed by author, philosopher, and Blessed Franciscan Friar John Duns Scotus back in the 13th century. The idea was to take prose and make it less abstract by being oddly and unpredictably specific.
Although he did not invent the term haecceity itself, Friar Scotus was instrumental in defining it and laying the groundwork for later philosophers to build upon.
In his papers, he argued that each individual has a unique “haecceitas” (Latin for “this-ness”) which makes that person unique from all other individuals. He believed each individual’s haecceitas was an essential part of one’s being – a uniqueness that could not be reduced to its general qualities.
Sadly, the idea of haecceity fell out of the public eye until German philosopher and mathematician Gottlob Frege wrote “Sense and Reference” in 1892, re-popularizing the concept.
Of course, it’s fallen out of popularity again, but 1920s crime noir writers like Dashiell Hammett were absolute masters at using this trick.
Take the sentence:
The aging gentleman stepped into his car.
On the surface level, the Pyramid of Abstraction would want more details.
The sixty-two year old man waddled into his 1975 Lincoln Continental, rust eating away at the undersides of the driver-side door.
Not bad. It’s a bit more concrete now, but almost robotically fact-driven.
From here we could go with the 4th level of the pyramid, having the man engage with his senses, interacting physically with the car. But there’s another way.
Haecceity demands something more than the pyramid did – A dollop of varying concreteness mixed with cheeky abstraction for characterization’s sake.
Because, as-is, not all sixty-two year old men waddle, but quite a lot of them do. And rust eating the bottom of a car door is not all that uncommon or unexpected on such an old model. We need to add some uniqueness. Let’s try adding a little haecceity and see what happens.
The seventy-something hoggish clod with disheveled hair waddled toward the 1975 Lincoln Continental and forced open the door, its rust-encrusted hinges creaking as if it had spent decades in some abandoned amusement park. A fat swell of smoke you could almost taste rolled out from the cigarette-burnt leather interior, triggering in him a hacking fit the likes of which could easily wake the dead.
- A clearer, more vivid description paints a unique picture for both the character and the car.
- I went less concrete with his age on purpose, inviting reader interpretation.
- With haecceity, authors will often swap senses, like how I went for “tasting” a smell.
You probably don’t want to overuse haecceity unless you’re going for a noir style, but if you want a scene or character description to really stand out in the reader’s mind, try adding a dash of haecceity.
High pyramid: Leaving something more abstract leaves room for the reader to insert his own assumptions and preconceptions. A lack of specificity enables readers to project their own ideas and expectations onto the characters, objects, and settings. This is not always a bad thing and can even be good, but it can also lead to communicating unwritten information you didn’t mean to.
Low pyramid: Leaving something more concrete invites readers to interpret and analyze the significance of specific details. What does this character’s physical trait suggest about his personality or background? What symbolic meaning does this object’s unique qualities lend to the overall story?
4th level of the pyramid: By doubling down on senses and interactions, readers will feel right there with the character, making the scene feel tangible.
Haecceity: Going even further than just concreteness, readers will latch onto the distinct qualities you’ve highlighted, which can encourage thought and discussion. Haecceity lets your prose stand out far more than just generic description will allow.
“The man walked into a bar” becomes…
The scrawny, sunken-eyed man, his threadbare suit hanging off his frame like a discarded rag, walked into the dimly lit dive, its cracked linoleum floor sticky with the residue of a thousand spilled drinks.
“He handed her the envelope” becomes…
His calloused, nicotine-stained fingers slid the weathered envelope across the table, its edges frayed and the wax seal cracked from age, to her delicate, manicured hands.
If you describe a character’s eyes as “two chips of ice, cold and unblinking,”
or a building as “a crumbling hulk of weathered brick, its windows dark and empty like the sockets of a skull,”
these vivid images will stick with the reader and can fuel conversations about what those details suggest about the character, setting, or overall tone of the story.
In essence, haecceity doesn’t just make your writing more immersive and authentic – it also makes it more conducive to thoughtful analysis and engaging discussions. By using haecceity, you’re inviting readers to step into the vivid, specific world you’ve created and explore it in depth, both as individuals and in conversations with others.
So thank you, Blessed John Duns Scotus, for leaving us with such an invaluable tool for the writing toolchest!
Nick Enlowe 