Wordy Wednesday: Character Flaws

Another week, another Wednesday.

The semester’s begun to settle into a routine, which is both nice and weird, because we only started this time two weeks ago but it already feels like we’ve been in school for months. (I’m also as tired as if I’ve been in school for months, but I think that’s a different problem.) (Like, for example, how I stood in front of my sink, staring at my tooth brush, for a solid five minutes last night because I had to muster the effort to actually pick it up.)

It’s also weird, because in the past week I’ve both applied for graduation and had my senior portrait taken, and THERE IS NO GOING BACK NOW. What even.

Why we’re actually here today, though: this week’s Wordy Wednesday is another writing process post. (And the last of Ariel‘s brilliant suggestions from this summer! Someone want to give me more ideas of things to talk about? I’ll pay you in hugs and writing tips.)

Let’s talk character flaws.

Character flaws are annoying, because they’re necessary to make your character relatable, but take ’em one step too far and, oh no! Now your character is unlikable instead.

Personally, I don’t mind unlikable characters. Some of my favorite protagonists are the unlikable ones. (Think Katniss, Sam from Before I Fall, etc.) But, as the term “unlikable” connotes, a lot of people, well, don’t.

So, how do you strike that balance between too perfect and too flawed? From my experience, these are a few things that work.

Cannot Be Static

I already talked about character arcs a few weeks back, so I’m not going to go into too much detail with this one. But basically your character should change in some major way between the beginning and ending of your story, and this change should be in direct relation to a flaw that in some way defines both the character and the plot.

Flaws are annoying when they’re static. (Look at what’s been happening on Once Upon a Time with Rumpelstiltskin, season after season, for Example A.) However, when flaws are dynamic–when they grow and morph and your character works to overcome them–they become interesting. They propel the story forward.

Characters stop being relatable, and start becoming unlikable, when they don’t overcome their flaws. The reader is there for a journey. Give them one.

Should Affect the Climax

This also falls under the category of character arcs, but your protagonist should have one or two major flaws that come to define them, and because of that these flaws should ultimately come to define the story as well. This means they need to affect the climax.

Generally, your protagonist should have to make a choice:

Option A – Everything’s (pretty much) guaranteed to be okay, but they’ll never overcome the flaw

Option B – There’s a good chance everything will fall to pieces, but they’ll have a chance at overcoming the flaw

See every rom-com ever for an obvious example of this. (Rom-coms are wonderful in general for studying stuff like this, because they’re so formulaic. I mean, ultimately they’re just doing the same things as all other stories, but they do them much more obviously.)

Would Be Okay in Moderation

Something that makes flaws so interesting is that they’re only flaws in excess. Literally anything becomes a flaw in excess.

This is a major component in what makes character flaws relatable to readers. Because while we might not have a certain trait as extremely as our favorite protagonist does, there’s a good chance we have a lower dose of it and it’s because of this connection that we connect with the character as a whole.

For example, as I mentioned, Katniss is one of my favorite characters ever. A large part of this is because of how independent she is. I can relate to that, because I HATE having to rely on other people. Take independence too far though, and you end up alone. Which is, you know, lonely. And ultimately a detriment to Katniss when she’s in the Games.

So look at your own flaws. The parts of you you’re afraid to leave unchecked. Try writing a character with them, but at an extreme.

Like not everyone is ever going to a person, not everyone is ever going to like a character. Some people simply don’t have to deal with certain flaws, so they don’t connect. But chances are, someone out there WILL share those sorts of traits with your protagonist and they’ll really love your story.

However: Some Can Be Smaller

Your character should have more flaws than those that affect their arc. Some can just be small things that add some more depth to your character. You can play these up for comedy, or just sort of weave them throughout as background information, or whatever feels right. These don’t necessarily need to be things your character overcomes. The biggest thing is that they’re there.

As humans, we’re all so extremely flawed. We have big flaws and little ones. They take shape in different forms (maybe you’re afraid of something and it’s holding you back, or you’re too brash instead). The point is that each person contains countless little idiosyncrasies. They’re what make you you.

So give your character that same kind of depth. While a certain trait or two should define the story, your character should be bigger than just those things. That is what ultimately makes a character likable.

And now, I’m going to leave you with “Flaws” by Bastille. Because every time I type “flaws” it starts playing in my head. (This is possibly one of my own flaws.)

Thanks for reading!


Wordy Wednesday: Character Arcs

This past week has been insanely busy. Wednesday, a couple friends and I hit the Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland exhibit at the Morgan, then Hannah and I saw Finding Neverland on Broadway (and met Matthew Morrison whoo!). Thursday Hannah and I saw a show by the Upright Citizens Brigade. Then Friday morning we left for a weekend staying with Hannah’s extended family in the Hamptons, where we swam and ate good food and learned to play backgammon.


Amagansett is officially gorgeous.

Back in New York City Monday, I spent the afternoon in Central Park, visiting the zoo and the Balto statue, then grabbed dinner and hung out with Ch1Con team member Ariel. Yesterday I wandered the Flatiron District for a while and spent the afternoon reading in Madison Square Park. Aaand today I hung out by Gramercy Park for a while, then made one last visit to the Strand and the High Line before finally hitting Laduree for the first time this summer.


Five-year-old me is proud of this moment.

It’s funny, because looking at the past couple days, mostly what I’ve been doing is wandering and reading in pretty places. I had all these grand plans for my last week in New York City, involving hitting all the big touristy things I haven’t done yet this summer. But I’ve realized that all I really want to do is enjoy the little things I’ve loved about New York one last time, like the hum of the city around me while lying in the grass in Madison Square and the dry, warm scent of paper and glue filling my lungs while getting lost at the Strand.

It’s the little things, I’m realizing, that you fall in love with about places. And I am going to miss all these little things, so desperately, when I leave on Saturday.

But in the meantime: this week’s Wordy Wednesday is a writing process post. And in honor of my last day of my internship being tomorrow (well, last day interning in person anyway), let’s talk about an issue I’ve noticed in quite a few of the manuscripts I’ve critiqued this summer: properly constructing character arcs.A “character arc” is how a character changes between the beginning and ending of a story. Usually it focuses on one trait that somehow comes to define your character, and it is due to resolving some sort of issue with that trait that the character manages to overcome whatever the plot throws at them in the climax.

This doesn’t mean only one of your character’s traits matters, or that other traits don’t come into play with the plot. But–in general–the overall focus will be on one, maybe two. (For a really obvious example of this sort of thing, look at Pride and Prejudice.)

The concept behind character arcs is simple enough, but they can be strangely hard to get right. So, here are a few of the defining characteristics of a character arc and how to write one.

Should Follow Dramatic Structure

A character arc is basically a subplot specific to your character. So, like all plots, it should at least loosely follow dramatic structure.

By gradually increasing the tension surrounding the character arc until you reach the climax (using stuff like the inciting incident and rising action), you draw your reader in and help make your character more relatable and interesting. (After all, no matter how cool your plot is, the reader won’t care unless they care about the characters.) For some help with figuring this out, try plotting your character arcs on a dramatic structure chart.

Example: Let’s say your story is a romance about a girl who’s afraid of commitment. She’d start out dumping a good guy due to this fear, then a series of events would show us her meeting a new guy, him convincing her to give him a chance, them slowly falling for each other (but all the while her carrying her fear and it growing inside her, etc.)–until something happens where she ditches the boy out of this fear, only to find the strength within her to give him a second chance at the climax so they can ride off into the sunset together.

Your Story Begins When the Character Arc Does

This might sound like an obvious one, but if the growth your character experiences is him overcoming vanity, he should already be vain when the story begins. This isn’t something that should wait to present itself at the catalyst or the turning point at the end of act I or something. It needs to be there, on the page, from page one.

Obviously there’s a good chance your character existed before he became vain, but the story didn’t. Whatever trait you choose to focus your arc on, it needs to be something that defines your character from the very beginning, so it’ll matter more when the transformation of the trait defines the climax.

Should Both Influence and Be Influenced By Plot

As mentioned, a character arc is basically a one-person-centric subplot. Because of that, like all subplots, it should both influence (and be influenced by) your overarching plot. Except more so if you’re dealing with your chief protagonists, because their character arcs, in part, should be the plot.

For example, back to that romance about the girl afraid of commitment: Without that fear of commitment, we wouldn’t have a plot. The plot (her getting together with the boy) revolves around her getting over her fear in order to resolve itself. However, if it weren’t for the plot (the relationship with the boy and, in particular, whatever happens that leads her to temporarily ditch him), she never would get over her fear in the first place.

Plot and character arcs are a symbiotic relationship. They can’t survive without one another.

(Almost) Every Character Should Have an Arc

Obviously if someone’s in your MS for five seconds, an arc is unnecessary. But all your supporting characters–protagonist and antagonist alike–should have some semblance of arcs. Even if said semblance is subtle. Even if your MS is in first person POV and your narrator doesn’t notice some side character’s arc (and thus the reader doesn’t really see it).

The point is that every character should be thought out enough–be real enough–to have an arc.

And there you have it. A few of the elements that go into writing character arcs.

Thanks for reading!


P.S. Sorry this technically went up on Thursday! WordPress and I had a bit of a spat.