One of my beta readers doesn't believe my protagonist would make a decision that's essential to the plot.

The troubling part? I understand her objection.

Believable character decisions don't have to be smart decisions, but readers need to understand why a character would make them. In the opening chapters of Tempered by Darkness, Sam is searching a neighborhood devastated by an earthquake when she discovers an injured dog. She's already witnessed so much destruction that her need to save something has become almost overwhelming. But Sam isn't an ordinary teenager. She's a trained guardian who knows supernatural creatures can be dangerous, and the dog is displaying warning signs she should recognize.

Sam notices those signs but finds other explanations for them. After all, an injured animal frightened by an earthquake might behave strangely. She convinces herself the dog is safe and picks it up.

My beta reader wasn't convinced. She's also a developmental editor whose judgment I trust, which made her objection difficult to dismiss.

She understood Sam's desperate need to save something but questioned whether someone with her training would allow that desperation to override her instincts. I strengthened Sam's emotional motivation, yet when my beta reader read the revised chapter, she remained  unconvinced. I wanted readers to recognize the warning signs and worry that Sam was making a terrible mistake. What I didn't want was for them to stop believing in her as a character.

There's a considerable difference between a reader thinking, Don't do it, Sam! and Sam would never be foolish enough to do that.

I wondered whether another thought or visceral reaction would help readers understand why Sam dismissed the warning signs. But the more I considered that approach, the more I suspected I was trying to solve the wrong problem.

When Stronger Character Motivation Isn't the Answer

In my recent Writers in the Storm articles, I've shared several discoveries that have changed the way I revise emotional scenes. One involved recognizing how often I relied on visceral reactions to reinforce emotions I'd already established through a character's actions or thoughts.

Yet even when I preferred a revision, I sometimes hesitated before removing an explanation. I knew what my characters were feeling and understood the experiences behind those emotions. Readers could only interpret what I'd placed on the page. Was I trusting them to recognize what I'd intended, or relying on knowledge they didn't possess?

My beta reader's objection made me suspect the problem wasn't how clearly I'd established Sam's emotions. It was whether those emotions made her decision believable.

What Makes a Character's Decision Believable?

Sam has been taught that demons don't bleed, and the injured dog has a visible wound. She also checks for the supernatural signs she's learned to recognize, but none appear. Those details give her reasons to believe the animal is harmless, even though other aspects of its behavior make her uneasy.

The problem is that I'd surrounded those reassuring details with so many warnings that I may have undermined the very reasoning I wanted readers to accept. The dog's unnatural stillness, strange behavior, and unusual physical characteristics all contribute to the suspense. Taken together, though, they may make the danger so obvious that readers question Sam's judgment rather than worrying about the consequences of her decision.

As I examined the precautions Sam takes, another possibility occurred to me.

What if trusting her training, instead of ignoring it, was the real problem?

Sam knows the rules for identifying supernatural threats. If the dog appears to pass those tests, she has reason to believe it’s safe. Her need to save the animal might make her more willing to accept that evidence, but she wouldn’t have to disregard her training to justify the decision.

Readers might recognize something troubling about the dog while understanding why Sam doesn’t interpret it the same way. They could worry that her knowledge is incomplete without concluding that she’s behaving foolishly.

I was beginning to see why adding more emotional explanation hadn’t satisfied my beta reader. I'd been concentrating on what Sam wanted without considering whether I'd given readers enough to find her decision believable.

And that raised another question.

How could I recognize the same problem elsewhere in my manuscript, particularly when I already knew so much more about my characters than my readers did?

I needed something more reliable than my familiarity with the story.

The REASON Test for Believable Character Decisions

As writers, we know far more about our characters than readers do. We understand their histories, motivations, and information that won't be revealed until much later. But readers can only evaluate what we've placed on the page.

I know the injured dog is dangerous. Sam doesn't. What matters is whether I've given readers enough to follow her reasoning at that moment.

That’s what led me to develop the REASON Test, a revision tool for creating believable character decisions, even when those decisions turn out to be wrong.

R — Reality: What does the character believe is true at this moment? Have I established the knowledge and assumptions influencing the decision, or am I relying on information that exists only in my head?

E — Evidence: What information supports the character's choice? Even if the conclusion is wrong, have I shown readers why the character considers it reasonable?

A — Affect: How are the character's emotions influencing their judgment? Are those emotions shaping how they interpret the situation, or am I using them to excuse behavior that contradicts their established abilities?

S — Suspense: What does the reader recognize that the character doesn't? Does that difference create tension, or have I made the danger so obvious that the character appears foolish for overlooking it?

O — Options: What alternatives are available to the character? Have I shown why this particular choice seems preferable to the others?

N — Natural: Does the decision grow naturally from the character's personality, experience, and circumstances? Would readers believe this character would make the same choice based on what they know about them?

Applying these questions to Sam's encounter has already revealed possibilities I hadn't considered when I was concentrating on her desperation.

The question of options, for example, made me look more closely at why Sam picks up the dog rather than finding another way to help it. If I establish that the animal can barely put weight on its injured leg, carrying it becomes a practical response rather than an impulsive decision. Readers may still worry about what Sam is doing, but they'll have a clearer understanding of why she considers it necessary.

I can imagine using the same approach when a character trusts someone they shouldn't, ignores a warning, or takes a dangerous risk to protect another person. In each situation, the goal isn't to prove that the character made the right decision. It's to establish why that decision made sense to them.

How to Fix an Unbelievable Character Decision

The next time you're revising a scene where a character makes an important decision, stop reading just before that choice. Set aside everything you know about the character and consider only what you've established on the page.

Can you follow the reasoning that leads to the decision? If something doesn't feel convincing, look for what's missing. The problem might be insufficient evidence, an alternative the character hasn't considered, or warning signs so obvious that ignoring them seems inconsistent with the character's abilities.

Sometimes, a small practical detail can make a choice more believable than another paragraph explaining how desperately the character wants something. The goal isn't to eliminate mistakes from our stories. It's to help readers understand why our characters do what they do.

I haven't yet tested these possible changes to Sam's encounter, so I don't know whether they'll resolve my beta reader's concern. But examining the objection has already changed how I approach the problem.

What I don't want is for someone to reach the moment when Sam picks up the dog and puts the book down because they no longer believe in her. I'd much rather have that reader leaning forward, recognizing the danger Sam has convinced herself isn't there, and thinking, Sam, please don't pick up that dog.

Because ultimately, believable character decisions aren't necessarily the right decisions. I don't need readers to agree with every choice Sam makes. I need them to understand her well enough to believe she would make it.

About Susan

Under the pen name Michelle Allums, Susan Watts has authored a young adult urban fantasy titled, The Jade Amulet and is currently writing the sequel. Her short stories are also included in the anthologies Christmas Roses and Forever and Always.

Susan has dedicated over four decades to training in multiple martial arts styles and holds the impressive title of a five-time US Karate Alliance world black belt fighting grand champion. Through her karate school, she is able to impart martial arts and life skills. Susan also incorporates her martial arts knowledge into her writing.

An avid triathlete, she keeps in shape by running, biking, and swimming. She lives in the country with her husband, where they raise animals and enjoy being outdoors. Susan also has three grown children and numerous grandchildren. In addition, she is a CPA and VP of finance for a company in her hometown. 

Some other WITS posts by Susan Watts:

• How Repeating Character Emotion Weakens an Emotional Scene
• What Your Character Notices Reveal More Than You Think

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