Flaws
“The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.”
Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms
My favorite books are not good books.
At least, not in the way that most people think about them. When people talk about great literature or books that changed their lives, they’re often talking about literary fiction—stuff that tries to tackle larger themes and speaks to the human condition without spelling everything out.
And that’s cool. I like lit fic. But that’s not where I find my bread and butter.
My favorite books are the ones I relate to—the ones that feel like home. My favorite books are not those that push me into unfamiliar territory. I love those books. I do. I’m always looking to be introduced to new perspectives and to be made to think about things I otherwise wouldn’t have. Truly, I make a concentrated effort to read books like that.
But the books I come back to again and again are the ones that I see myself in. They have characters who sound like me, who make the same kinds of mistakes I would, who face challenges I’ve faced or can imagine facing. Those books don’t just entertain me—they ground me.
If you’re trying to write the next great American novel, this post is not for you. I’ll write something for you later, I promise. But for those of you trying to write the book you’ve always needed—the one you could always return to when you’re feeling lost and trust you’ll once again find yourself somewhere in between the lines—this one’s for you.
The key to writing characters your readers will be able to see themselves in?
Give them flaws.
Their flaws are not only what make them relatable, but they’re what make them real. And no, I’m not talking about quirks like snorting when they laugh or staying up too late at night. Real, significant flaws. Flaws that can’t ignored, overlooked, or overcome easily.
I’m not telling you to make them evil—we’re not trying to write a villain here (probably). But give them imperfections that resonate. I’m telling you to make them captain of a bowling team, but too much of an alcoholic to ever bowl above a 70. Make them perpetually late. Make them addicted to cigarettes. While you’re at it, give them a bad habit like nail biting or knuckle popping. Give them an unhealthy dependency on their phone and a strained relationship with their father.
You know, like you.