Belonging and How to Develop Characters Readers Seek Out

When I write, I always begin with character. Sometimes I wish I could be a master at plotting, political intrigue, or poetry. When I come up with a story, though, it always begins with a somebody. 

Every now and again, I will meet someone in real life whom I cannot forget. It’s that person who makes you think… and think… and think some more. You begin to see their rare spark—they’ve quietly broken the mold or achieved the unexpected. You find yourself forming opinions about them. Okay, maybe you become slightly obsessed. 

Sometimes it’s a somebody who is in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sometimes it’s a somebody who is a classic fish out of water. Recently, for me, it’s been two characters who fall squarely into the "opposites attract" category: neurodiverse high schoolers—one who flies her freak flag high and is on the spectrum, and the other who tries like mad to hide severe anxiety. 

Whomever it is, protagonist or antagonist, I follow the same dedicated steps to bring them to life. 

I write pages and pages about a character before they ever utter a line of dialogue on the official draft. I have binders for each book I’m working on, complete with color-coded tabs. Yeah, I’m that girl. Each tab represents a different character, because it’s just as important to surround your protagonists with worthy antagonists and memorable, authentic secondary characters as it is to nail the lead. 

I’m a very visual thinker and writer. The binder gives me a place to organize all the details. Not every single detail will end up in the final book, but as the author, I have to know these things. I imagine everything about them. What are their daily habits: What do they like to eat? What do they like to wear?  Gym rat or couch potato? Country girl or backwoods boy? Where do they fall in pop culture? Who is their favorite musician? Their go-to TV show? 

What about psychology? What scares them the most? What are their deepest secrets? What are they ashamed of? And like any story, the characters need to endure conflict. What or who is getting in the way of their goals and dreams? There are absolutely no shortcuts on this. Sometimes I wish there were—it is a lot of heavy lifting. But there’s simply no skipping this step. 

It helps to be an active listener. I am endlessly fascinated by people and their stories. Whether they’re telling bold-faced lies or are absolute truth-tellers, whether they grew up down the street from me or were born on the other side of the globe, everyone has a unique history. It’s up to the writer to be a kind of detective. 

To build a character that a reader will actively seek out, you must key in on the micro-details like the character’s dialogue and voice. Do they use slang? Have a regional accent or unique speech pattern? Do they pause or use physical expressions and body language that reinforce what they say or not? Like a detective, a writer’s job is to dig deep into the explicit things that thrill us, as well as the hidden things that damage us.

Part of writing a character that will hold a reader's attention is exploring a worthy goal. The reader needs to look at the page and ask: Is this someone I should care about? Are they smart? Sketchy? Sinister? Do they let obstacles stand in their way? 

Ultimately, it often comes down to a simple, human question: Is this character somebody I would want to be friends with?

Some people say books are their best friends. To write a book worthy of someone’s precious time, I think you must do more than write sweeping prose and dream up impossible plot twists. You must get to the center cut of a character—to know them with all their glaring flaws and still find yourself rooting for them. 

I used to be intimidated by the word “likable.” I started out in the film business writing scripts on spec. I would hear development executives wonder aloud: “But is the character really likable?” I wonder how many of those executives had read Shakespeare? Or watched modern masterpieces like Breaking Bad or Better Call Saul? 

A character can be profoundly fascinating and still make absolutely horrible decisions. A character can be, by traditional definitions, very unlikable… and yet, we cannot look away. If they are faceted—like a cushion-cut diamond—you will want to wear them, stare at them, and value their worth. 

In my recent YA novel, as I explored the lives of two neurodiverse teenagers, it became very clear early on that they were uncomfortable in their own skin. They lacked a true sense of place in their respective worlds. In short, they felt like outsiders. When they finally find one another, this profound theme of belonging bubbled up over and over again. I didn’t sit down at my desk with an outline intending to write a thesis on the concept of belonging; it was simply rooted organically within the characters themselves. 

I interviewed fascinating, neurodiverse young people before I landed on exactly who these two fictional teens were. I didn’t even set out to write a romance. But as the process took over, the characters began to take on a life of their own. They spoke up, bypassed my initial plans, and told me that yes, this was indeed a love story. 

Readers seek out characters who are searching for the same things we are all searching for: a place to fit in, a person who truly sees us, and a space where our weirdness is welcomed. When you do the hard work of building multi-dimensional characters from the inside out, the theme of belonging takes care of itself.

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