Thoughts on Trigger Warnings

Author Florence Wetzel tackles the complex and often controversial topic of trigger warnings with thoughtfulness and nuance. In her blog post, she reflects on her own experience preparing the second edition of her novel Aspasia, weighing the dilemma of protecting readers without revealing key plot twists. With personal insight, literary perspective, and a refreshingly balanced approach, Florence invites us to consider what literature owes its readers—and what it doesn’t.

Trigger Warnings and the Twist Dilemma

Trigger warnings have been on my mind ever since I started preparing the second edition of my novel Aspasia. Originally self-published in 2003, it’s the story of an American woman living in a small village in Crete who discovers a shocking family secret.

That’s my elevator pitch for the novel. I don’t mention that the secret involves a crime against a child. A physical crime. I leave that out because it’s a major plot twist. But is that something readers should know about before they begin the book?

As I got closer to publication, the question about trigger warnings became more urgent. I needed to make a decision: Should I include one at the front of the book or not?

A Brief History of Trigger Warnings

I read up on the subject and found that trigger warnings started in the early 2000s on feminist blogs and forums where people shared stories about trauma. In the 2010s, the warnings began showing up in college classrooms to caution students about potentially distressing material. A few years later, they became commonplace at the start of books, podcasts, TV shows, and theater productions, often under the name “content warnings.” From the beginning, people have debated whether these warnings are a practical necessity or a form of emotional coddling.

Spoilers vs. Sensitivity

The curious thing about trigger warnings is that sometimes they’re an integral part of the elevator pitch. Let’s say the description is “A woman who works at a center for domestic violence gets overinvolved with one of her clients.” The context makes it clear what to expect, at least in part. If the theme feels difficult, a reader can give the book a pass, or be aware that certain descriptions might cause undue pain.

Things get trickier when flagging a trigger also reveals a plot twist. If there’s one thing book enthusiasts hate, it’s spoilers. On the other hand, the last thing any writer wants is to retraumatize their readers.

What’s the Role of Literature, Anyway?

All these concerns raise a larger question: What is the role of literature? I mentioned earlier that “certain descriptions might cause undue pain.” But is this necessarily a bad thing, or something writers should avoid? Part of the magic of literature is its ability to expand our compassion, often as a direct result of feeling pain or discomfort while reading.

Personal Growth Through Painful Stories

I can offer a personal example of this process. Recently I read the book Dust Child by Nguyễn Phan Quế Mai. The book concerns the endless aftershocks of the Vietnam War, in particular the children fathered and abandoned by US servicemen. As an American, the Vietnam War has always been a painful subject for me, so I was reluctant to read the book when my friend Loraine recommended it. But she’s given me great tips in the past, so I downloaded Dust Child on my Kindle.

As it turns out, stepping outside my comfort zone was the right decision. Sometimes it was painful to read about the characters’ struggles, but the story was deeply moving and skillfully told. I now have a richer understanding of that particular war and its aftermath, from both the Vietnamese and American perspectives. My compassion has grown thanks to Dust Child, and the Vietnam War no longer feels like a taboo subject for me.

Subtle Hints Instead of Spoilers

My hope is that Aspasia might offer readers the same kind of emotional journey. Some may start the book hesitantly, but find it opens their eyes—or hearts—in ways they didn’t expect. And really, who am I to decide in advance what a reader needs?

Another interesting angle on this theme came from one of the many articles I’ve read on the subject of content warnings. Someone wrote (and I paraphrase) “Life doesn’t come with trigger warnings, so why should books?” Something about that statement rings true for me. Life often confronts us with painful truths we can’t escape, and maybe books can help us develop the necessary resilience.

All of these questions stayed with me as I considered whether or not to include a trigger warning at the beginning of Aspasia. After weighing the pros and cons and getting feedback from others, I ultimately decided not to, mostly because it would reveal the core plot twist.

Even so, I didn’t want to leave readers totally unprepared. I added a subtitle, A Novel of Suspense and Secrets. On the back cover description, which also appears on online bookseller sites, I used the phrases “a terrible secret” and “two shocking crimes.” My hope is that this will give the reader sufficient warning that the novel explores the darker aspects of human nature.

Discretion in Outreach

There is, however, one place where I have been giving a warning, and that’s when I contact reviewers or marketing services. When I arranged for Aspasia to be featured in a Read Along and a blog tour, I was sure to let the woman in charge know about the subject matter. I’ve also done this whenever I reached out to reviewers. In those instances, I was personally asking people to read the book, so it felt appropriate to flag the possible trigger.

So what kind of warning avoids spoiling the plot? I was fortunate that an early review of Aspasia by Reader Views’ own Sheri Hoyte contained language that felt just right:

Note: This book deals with difficult subject matter related to a child’s safety and well-being.

Sheri kindly gave me permission to use this line in my marketing, and I’ve been including it when I pitch reviewers. So far, people seem to appreciate my candor.

A Balanced Compromise

It’s also worth noting that I can’t control what other people write about my book. As usual, one has to take the good with the bad when it comes to reviews. It’s possible that a reviewer or someone on Goodreads will decide to give a content warning or reveal the book’s themes. And maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

Certainly trigger warnings are a tricky question. There’s no right or wrong answer, and every author who explores challenging subject matter needs to find their own way. At the end of the day, I admire writers who aren’t afraid to explore the darker corners of human experience. And I’m particularly grateful to those who offer insight into meeting adversity with resilience.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Florence Wetzel was born 1962 in Brooklyn, NY. She writes in different genres, including the memoir Sara My Sara: A Memoir of Friendship and Loss. Her novels include the thriller The Woman Who Went Overboard, the Swedish mystery The Grand Man, and Dashiki: A Cozy Mystery. She has also authored horror short stories, a book of poems and memoir essays, and co-authored jazz clarinetist Perry Robinson’s autobiography.

Her latest book is Aspasia: A Novel of Suspense and Secrets, published July 2025.

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