Writers in the Storm

By Jenn Windrow

As a developmental editor, I spend a lot of time helping authors strengthen their characters. One of the most common issues I encounter isn't that a character is too flawed. It's that they're not flawed enough. They are sunshine and rainbows and sugar and spice.

After all, most writers want readers to like their characters. We want them to root for the hero, fall in love with the love interest, and cheer when they succeed.

But here's the thing: readers don't connect with characters because they're perfect.

They connect with them because they're human. And all humans have flaws. Some more than others, but like the old saying says, “nobody’s perfect.” And your characters shouldn’t be either.

The Problem With Perfect Characters

Think about some of the most popular characters in fiction right now. Many of them are stubborn, reckless, arrogant, secretive, impulsive, or morally gray. Some are assassins. Some are thieves. Some make terrible decisions that leave readers yelling at the page.

And yet readers love them.

Why?

Because flaws create authenticity.

Real people are flawed. We make mistakes. We misjudge situations. We act out of fear, pride, insecurity, and old wounds. When readers see those same imperfections reflected in a character, they recognize something familiar. They see themselves in those flaws and they can relate to them.

Perfection creates distance. Imperfection creates connection.

Flaws Create Conflict

A character who always makes the right decision isn't particularly interesting. In fact, most of them are downright boring. And no one wants to read a story about boring characters doing boring things. They want conflict.

Stories thrive on conflict, and some of the best conflict comes from within.

A character's flaws often become the very thing standing between them and what they want most. The warrior's pride keeps him from asking for help. The heroine's fear of abandonment causes her to push people away. The king's need for control costs him the loyalty of those closest to him.

The flaw isn't just a personality trait. It's a source of tension that drives the story forward.

As writers, we often focus on external obstacles, but sometimes the most powerful obstacle is the one living inside the character's own head. So, as a writer, find that internal flaw, that inner conflict and use it to your advantage.

Morally Gray Doesn't Mean Morally Empty

With the rise of romantasy and dark fantasy, morally gray characters have become incredibly popular. But I think many writers misunderstand what readers love about them. Being morally gray isn't about being cruel, rude, or edgy for the sake of it.

It's about forcing characters to make difficult choices.

Should they choose duty or love? Justice or mercy? Revenge or forgiveness?

The most compelling characters aren't wrestling with easy decisions. They're navigating situations where every option comes with consequences.

Readers don't fall in love with morally gray characters because they're bad. They fall in love with them because they're complicated. And complication means conflict.

The Secret Ingredient: Vulnerability

I've read manuscripts with characters who lie, manipulate, steal, and make one bad decision after another. And sometimes I still love them. Not because of what they're doing, but because I understand why they're doing it.

Vulnerability is what turns a flawed character into a relatable one.

Show me the fear beneath the arrogance. Show me the loneliness beneath the anger. Show me the heartbreak beneath the need for revenge.

When readers understand the emotional wound driving the behavior, they're far more likely to stay invested.

As an editor, one of the questions I ask most often is:

Why is the character behaving this way?

The answer usually leads straight to the heart of who they are.

Flaws Create Growth

Character arcs exist because flaws exist. If your protagonist starts the story with all the answers, what is there left to learn?

Growth comes from struggle. It comes from confronting fears, challenging beliefs, and recognizing the ways we've been standing in our own way. The flaw that creates problems in chapter one often becomes the thing the character must overcome by the final chapter.

That's where transformation happens. And transformation is what readers remember.

Give Your Characters Permission to Be Messy

The next time you're revising a manuscript, take a hard look at your protagonist.

Are they too polished? Too reasonable? Too perfect? Consider giving them a few rough edges. Let them make mistakes. Let them struggle. Let them fail. Most importantly, let them be human.

I put my characters through hell and back, and I am proud of it.

Because readers don't fall in love with perfect characters. They fall in love with flawed characters who keep moving forward anyway.

What's your favorite flawed fictional character, and what flaw made you love them instead of dislike them?

About Jenn Windrow

Jenn Windrow once attempted to write a “normal” book—and promptly bored herself into a coma. So now she sticks to what she does best: writing snarky, kick-butt heroines, broody supernatural men, and more sexual tension than a vampire in a blood bank.

She’s the award-winning author of the Alexis Black novels and the Redeeming Cupid series, where the undead never sparkle and the drama is always delicious. Jenn moonlights as a developmental editor, helping other writers wrangle their wild plots and tangle-free prose.

When not arguing with her characters or muttering about Oxford commas, she can be found binge-watching trash TV, wrangling the slew of animals that live in her house (husband and teenagers included), or telling herself she’ll only have one more cookie.

You can find her at jennwindrow.com or lurking on social media where she pretends to be an extrovert.

Photo by Random Thinking on Unsplash 

It's a Promise to the Reader

By Sarah Sally Hamer

Writers often talk about point of view as if it’s merely a technical decision. First person or third person. Omniscient or limited. Past tense or present tense.

But point of view is far more than a grammatical choice.

Point of view is a promise.

It's the agreement you make with readers about how they will experience your story. It tells them whose eyes they're looking through, whose emotions they're feeling, and whose understanding they can trust. When that promise remains clear, readers sink effortlessly into the narrative. When it becomes muddled, they become confused, detached, or frustrated.

Understanding point of view—and understanding it at both the story level and the scene level—is one of the most powerful skills a fiction writer can develop.

Because point of view doesn't just tell a story.

It shapes the reader's entire experience of that story.

Global Point of View: The Story's Lens

Global point of view is the perspective that governs the entire novel.

It's the answer to the question:

Who gets to tell this story?

In The Hunger Games (and I’ll be using the first book, not the movie unless I say differently – they ARE different!), Suzanne Collins chooses first-person point of view through Katniss Everdeen. Readers discover the world only as Katniss discovers it. We don't know what President Snow is planning. We don't know what Peeta is truly thinking. We know only what Katniss sees, hears, believes, and misunderstands.

That limitation creates emotional intimacy.

We don't observe Katniss's fear.

We experience it.

Contrast that with J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings (whether books or movies in this case). While the story often follows Frodo, the narrative shifts among multiple characters. Readers witness events occurring in different locations, gaining a broader understanding of the larger conflict and each character with a point of view tells the story from their own perspective. So, several characters become the protagonist, even if only for a moment or two, and we see the story through their eyes. These points of view are woven together to make a perfect overall story.

Neither approach is better or worse. It’s strictly a matter of understanding as a writer who is in charge of what and each version creates a different reading experience.

Short note: There are lots of books and movies out there that do not have a single point of view character or only one at a time. Some of them are very good. Some of them are not. But they do exist and, if that’s your style, there is nothing wrong with it.

Ultimately, the global point of view determines how much information readers receive and how close they feel to the characters. It shapes suspense, mystery, emotional connection, and pacing from the first page to the last.

Choose wisely because this decision influences everything that follows.

The Reader's Seat

Many writers understand global point of view.

Fewer understand scene point of view.

Every scene needs a perspective character. Someone owns that moment. Someone experiences the action. So, now we study how to tell a scene character by character.

The question becomes:

Whose scene is this?

Imagine the shark attack sequence in Jaws. The tension doesn't come from bouncing among multiple frightened swimmers. It comes from remaining focused on a particular experience. The audience knows where to look, whose fear to follow, and why the danger matters.

The same principle applies in novels.

Suppose a husband and wife argue over a looming divorce.

If the scene belongs to the wife, readers experience her fear, her hopes, and her interpretation of her husband's words.

If the scene belongs to the husband, the same conversation becomes an entirely different emotional experience, which can change the reader’s attitude about the story. If we’d only heard Rhett Butler’s point of view instead of Scarlett’s, we would have an entirely different understanding of the story. Good or bad? Not at all! A series of books has been written through the Wicked Witch of the West’s point of view of what happened in Oz. There are multiple characters with their own point of view, much less the entire series having a point of view separate from Baum’s books.

The facts in these stories haven't changed.

The story has because of who is telling it.

Point of view determines not only what readers see but also how they feel about what they see.

Why Clarity Matters

Readers rarely stop and consciously analyze point of view.

They simply feel it.

And, when a writer manages point of view well, readers become immersed in the story world. They forget they're reading. They live inside the narrative.

When point of view becomes unclear, immersion breaks.

A common mistake occurs when writers jump from one character's thoughts to another's within the same scene.

Jane worried her son wouldn't come home.

Across the room, Mark wondered if she knew he was planning to leave.

Then Jane noticed his expression and feared the worst.

The shift may seem harmless, but it unsettles readers. The narrative camera suddenly jumps without warning and confusion reigns. Once a reader is confused, it may take a long time to pull them back into the story.

It's the literary equivalent of a movie cutting from shot to shot so rapidly that viewers lose track of what's happening.

Readers shouldn't have to stop and ask:

Whose head am I in right now?

The moment they do, you've pulled them out of the story.

Point of View and Reader Enjoyment

Good point of view management isn't about following arbitrary rules.

It's about creating the most enjoyable experience possible.

Consider Harry Potter. Imagine how different the books would feel if readers constantly jumped into Snape's thoughts, Voldemort's thoughts, Dumbledore's thoughts, and Harry's thoughts every few paragraphs. Many mysteries would disappear and emotional surprises and wonder would vanish.

J.K. Rowling largely keeps readers aligned with Harry because that perspective creates the strongest emotional journey.

The same principle applies regardless of genre.

Point of view controls curiosity, surprise, empathy, and, most importantly, point of view controls emotional engagement.

Readers care most deeply when they're allowed to experience events through a clear, consistent lens.

How to Choose the Right Scene Character

When deciding whose perspective should control a scene, ask a simple question:

Who has the most to lose?

The answer often reveals the strongest viewpoint.

In The Silence of the Lambs, scenes frequently stay close to Clarice Starling because her emotional stakes are enormous. She needs answers. She needs growth. She needs to confront her fears.

Readers naturally invest in the character whose desires and risks dominate the moment.

Point of view works best when the emotional stakes and the narrative lens point in the same direction.

The Real Purpose of Point of View

Many writers think point of view exists to deliver information.

It doesn't.

Point of view exists to create experience.

Readers don't open a novel simply to learn what happened.

They open it to feel what happened.

Point of view determines whether they stand outside the story looking in or step inside and live it alongside the characters.

At the global level, point of view shapes the entire journey.

At the scene level, it shapes every emotional moment along the way.

Master point of view, and you give readers clarity.

Give readers clarity, and you give them immersion.

Give them immersion, and you give them one of the greatest gifts fiction can offer: the chance to disappear into another life for a while.

If you'd like to learn more, there is a free video at this link: https://youtu.be/TBQxmV914Is

How do you decide whose point of view controls a scene in your writing?

About Sarah Sally

Sarah (Sally) Hamer is a lover of books, a teacher of writers, and a believer in a good story. Most of all, she is eternally fascinated by people and how they 'tick'. She’s passionate about helping people tell their own stories, whether through fiction or through memoir. Writing in many genres - mystery, science fiction, fantasy, romance, medieval history, non-fiction – she has won awards at both local and national levels, including two RWA Golden Heart finals.

A teacher of memoir, beginning and advanced creative fiction writing, and screenwriting at Louisiana State University in Shreveport for over twenty years, she also teaches online at both margielawson.com and nostresswriting.com with blogs for writersinthestormblog.com/ as well as her monthly blog for thewriteconversation.com. Sally is a free-lance editor and book coach at Mind Potential, with many of her students and clients becoming successful, award-winning authors. 

You can find her at sally@mindpotential.org

Author picture from the author, featured picture from CoPilot

By RJ Redden

Spring 2022. I'm driving home, radio low, one hand hovering over the blinker before I've even consciously decided to turn, because my body knows this route better than my brain does.

I come up on my usual Starbucks, read the sign, and do the sigh. Because I already know how this is gonna go. I’ll walk in, ask for my coffee, get The Face from the barista (kind, but useless), and walk back out holding whatever's closest on the menu. A consolation prize dressed up as a decision.

My favorite coffee is burnt butterscotch latte. And I do mean burnt: the kind that tastes like caramel that almost escaped the pan but didn't, sweet with a smoky shadow trailing right behind it. Starbucks makes a great one, but only in the fall.

So I'm sitting at a red light doing math on exactly how disappointed I'm about to be. And a thought saunters in sideways, hips first, like it already knows it's about to rearrange my whole life.

You see, I'd just started poking around with this GPT thing.

What if, instead of settling for whatever's next, I skipped the counter and ask AI how to build the drink myself?

I drove straight home, and my answer came back: butterscotch extract and a little liquid smoke, just enough to smell like trouble. I poured it over a shot of espresso still ticking hot from the machine and took a sip standing at my own kitchen counter. No barista, no apologetic face anywhere in sight. Burnt-sugar smell curling up out of the mug like it had been waiting just for me.

It worked. It actually worked. The whole mug tasted like a campfire had fallen hard for a butterscotch sundae. And somewhere behind my eyes, my brain cracked open like a jar giving up its seal.

If I can build one recipe this way, I thought, I can build more. The coffee shop stuff is always so boring anyway.The same fourteen syrups just wearing a different trench coat depending on the season. Surely I can do better than that…

Then One Recipe Turns Into a Hundred

So I went hunting for extracts, and not politely. Picture the counter of a woman who has fully lost her sense of reality: little glass soldiers of extract lined up like a spice rack that had a breakdown, vanilla and toffee crowded next to one bottle that just says “smoke #3” in Sharpie because I'd run out of names. My whole kitchen started smelling like a bakery that couldn't decide what it was baking.

I was off to the races, writing recipe after recipe, and somewhere around recipe number two, still cradling that first burnt butterscotch latte like a trophy, a second thought sat down right behind the first one.

This drink needed a real name, something that belonged to my world, the fantasy tavern I'd been building in my head for years called the Come Write Inn. A harmless project, right?

So I had GPT pitch me titles. I picked one. I had it pitch descriptions, then did what I always do. I took what it gave me, and marked it up in red pen

Then I kept going. A whole slate of coffees, each one carrying a name and a sliver of story poured right into the cup.

A hundred coffees later, that is still exactly how it works.

The Loop, Explained Like a Barista Who Can’t Quit

This is the part I need you to actually get, because it's the entire point. I do not take what the AI gives me and call it finished, not on coffee one, not on coffee ninety-four.

Think of it the way a judge on Chopped sends a plate back for missing the mark, except the plate is actually a paragraph. I ask GPT to write the description for a coffee called the Widow's Toast. Round one comes back.

It's fine. It's technically words in a row, just not words that sound like they came out of my mouth. So I send it back. I tell it exactly what's off and what needs to go. Round two comes back closer, but still not quite it. I cut a line here, sharpen a phrase there. Out that description comes again.

Four rounds. Six. Sometimes ten, if that recipe's being stubborn. Every pass, the only question that matters is whether the words are finally right. The answer is no, right up until the second it isn’t.

That's the loop, spelled out plain: draft, critique, resubmit. Then again. And again, until it's something I'd actually put my name on. The AI hands me the first draft. I'm the one doing the shaping, and somewhere in the back of my head Ted Allen is already clearing his throat to ask what inspired this coffee.

The point isn't the material. It's refusing to stop shaping the draft until the page is right.

Then the Pictures Started Talking Back

Chapter two of this saga: I had roughly ten coffees fully written and wanted images to go with them. GPT couldn't generate images yet, so I grabbed stock photos that were close enough and called it good for now. Flat and generic, tasting of nothing much at all. Understudies standing in for stars who hadn't yet been cast.

Then the day came. The tool could suddenly generate images, and I was at the stage door before it had even finished opening. I took the description already written for a coffee, fed it to AI, and asked for an image. What came back was so much closer than I’d ever been. My world went from two dimensions to three in as many seconds.

I saw it. My world. Right there on the screen. It’s that moment when you’ve been carrying something around with you so long, something that no one else had ever seen.

Then, because apparently I don't know the meaning of leaving well enough alone, I pushed one step further. I took the finished image and fed that back in too, asking a different question this time, one layer deeper than the coffee itself: tell me the story of how this exact picture came to be.

Out came an extended backstory nobody had asked for, lore behind the lore. Same loop, just a bit larger.

A Hundred Coffees Later, I Still Can't Stop

That loop is still running right now, today, probably while you're reading this. Every coffee in my world has a title, ingredients, a description, a backstory, a character sheet, and in some cases a whole time-shifted history of how it came to sit on that tavern's menu.

We’re in over a hundred coffees deep. Forty-seven extracts currently live on my kitchen counter, lined up like a chorus line waiting for their cue, right next to a coffee machine that runs most of the day. A shrine nobody asked me to build and everybody who visits comments on anyway.

It isn't finished.

New flavors keep showing up. And somewhere along the way they stopped being just coffees. Characters started climbing out of them, and whole places came trailing right behind, magic items and all.

Start With Something That Doesn't Matter

This is the idea I actually want you to walk away with. I started with something fun and harmless.

Nothing was going to explode if a coffee description flopped. No client was waiting on the other end of a bad latte name. People write throwaway coffee shop copy every day of the week. It's about as low-stakes as language gets, and that's exactly why it made a safe door to walk through.

I fully expected the whole experiment to go nowhere. If that had happened, I'd have shrugged and gone on with my Tuesday.

Instead, one silly, doesn't-matter-if-it-flops drink order turned into the spine that holds up my entire fictional world. I'd tried building this world by hand before, with tea and notebooks and big brave stabs at a “series bible”. I stalled every time.

It just felt too big. I never knew which wall to start painting first. What actually cracked the world open was smaller than any plan I'd ever tried: one small idea nobody would miss if it flopped. Looped on with zero pressure to be brilliant. Then my whole world snuck in sideways while I was busy naming a latte.

So tell me. What's your burnt butterscotch latte? The one small, doesn't-matter-if-it-flops thing sitting in your writing life right now that you could hand to AI, just to see what loops back at you. Drop it in the comments. I read every one, and I will absolutely have thoughts.

CALL TO ACTION

If you want your own kitchen-counter moment, the kitchen's open. I'm hosting a Free Week of my NO BS AI class: seven days, two real things built by your own hands, no coding required, and I’m here to help you through. https://nobsai.now/free-week

About RJ

RJ Redden is your digital fairy godmother for audience engagement. Her wand wields AI, chatbots, and augmented reality to create experiences so engaging, your readers will forget Netflix exists. She also speaks fluent human in a world obsessed with algorithms. Find her at The Come Write Inn.com. This article was edited with AI assistance, because this fairy godmother believes in using every tool in the workshop — ethically and transparently.

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