Character Development: A Complete Guide for Writers

Characters are what make us invested in any piece of writing. It’s why some seem so real you half expect them to text you or wish you could grab coffee with them. Think of Harry Potter; brave but impulsive, loyal to a fault. Or James Bond; cool, calculated, impossible to rattle. 

But then there are the ones you barely remember. Do you recall Mr. Musgrove from Persuasion? Probably not. Some fade into the background, flat, forgettable even.

The difference between the effect these two character types have on us is character development. You can brainstorm from scratch or use tools like AI character generators to spark ideas, but the main idea is making them real in your narrative. 

In this guide, we’ll break down how to master character development in your writing, i.e., how to develop great characters like Harry Potter and James Bond, and make them appear like actual people and not just hard-to-recall names on a page.

How to Achieve Perfect Characters: Steps of Character Development

A character doesn’t need a grand destiny or a tragic backstory to be unforgettable. They just need to matter, to themselves, to the story, to the reader. 

Heathcliff is monstrous, but you feel the fire that made him that way. 

Lucy Snowe refuses to let people in, but when you see those cracks in her composure, you understand her. 

These aren’t just names on a page. They exist. And that’s because every part of them, what they want, what they fear, what they won’t admit even to themselves, is working beneath the surface, shaping everything.

Here’s how that happens.

Step 1: Personality and Core Traits: Who They Are, What Makes Them Unique 

A character’s personality isn’t about making a list of adjectives. It’s in the way they enter a room. How they handle silence or noise. Even their words—what they say or refuse to—should reflect their inner conflict. What they do when they know no one is watching. 

For instance, Lucy Snowe (Villette) keeps herself contained. Proper. Controlled. But when no one is looking, she breaks. A slip of emotion, a flicker of longing, tiny fractures in the self-reliance she clings to. You see who she is, even when she won’t admit it.

Let’s say you’re sitting across from your character, interviewing them. Practice these exercises to understand their personality and core traits: 

• How would they describe themselves in one sentence?
• What are their biggest fears, desires, and regrets?
• What’s the moral compass shaped by their core values, upbringing, and hard-earned beliefs, i.e., what lines won’t they cross?
• When they speak, do they get straight to the point, or circle around what they really mean?
• What’s the one thing they hate about themselves, or others around them?
• When they lie, do they do it well?
• What’s something they always notice about other people? Their smell? Their eyes? Their gait? Or voice?

There’s an easier way to answer these questions yourself. Take them out of their story. Drop them into a random, unexpected moment and watch what they do. A stranger drops a wallet on the street. Your character sees it. Do they return it immediately? Do they hesitate? Does the character want to keep it? Do they pick it up, then feel guilty and return it later? Do they leave it, thinking it’s none of their business? Their reactions can reveal certain traits and deep qualities they’re unaware they even have and tell you more than any personality trait list ever could. It’s their instincts, their mindset, their gut response when no one’s watching.

If you want to map these details out more clearly, a character profile template can help organize everything in one place.

Tip: Look at real-life celebrity figures—like Steve Jobs, Oprah Winfrey, or Elon Musk—when building your characters. Their public personas will give you powerful examples of focused ambition, emotional depth, or visionary drive. 

Step 2: Motivation: What Keeps Them Moving? What Do They Think They Want vs. What Do They Actually Need?

Every character is chasing their desires, like status, love, revenge, freedom. On the surface, that’s their want, which is their external motivation. Yet, deep down, what truly fulfills them is their internal need, something they haven’t fully grasped yet. The best stories thrive on the tension between these two forces.

They might believe success will bring them happiness, only to realize they were searching for validation all along. They might fight for revenge, unaware that what they truly need is closure. Some get what they want and still feel empty. Others never reach their goal but find something better along the way.

Without clear motivation, a character is just moving through the story without purpose. What keeps them up at night? What’s the one thing they can’t let go of, even when it’s wrecking them? Are they more concerned with survival or legacy? Their priorities form their arc. Just as we all grapple with our own inner conflicts, these struggles are what make fictional characters feel genuine and human. 

Conflict builds their journey, forcing them to grow, break, or reveal who they truly are. There are different types of conflict and how to use them effectively in storytelling. 

To practice, break this conflict into three layers. The External Conflict, i.e., what’s happening around them? The Internal Conflict, i.e., what are they struggling with emotionally? The Philosophical Conflict, i.e., what belief system is being challenged?

Ask yourself these:

• What do they think will make them happy? What do they want? And what’s the real reason they want it?
• What’s the hard truth they refuse to face?
• What happens when they get what they want, and it isn’t enough?
• What will it take for them to realize what they actually need?
• What happens if they don’t get it?

• What’s the one thing they tell themselves is not a big deal, but it is?
• What’s the choice that keeps them up at night?

For instance, Jay Gatsby (The Great Gatsby) wants Daisy. He’s built his whole life around getting her back. But what he really needs is to let go of the past. 

To create strong characters, give them clear wants driven by deeper, underlying needs. 

Step 3: Flaws: What Breaks Them?

When a character fails to recognize their true needs, and instead focuses on their wants, it is a flaw. Flaws are important for character development because a perfect character will be nothing more than a mannequin in a story’s display window. It looks nice, but no one cares about it. Cracks, contradictions, and self-destruction make them more human. They open the door to empathy, allowing readers to connect even with those unlike themselves.

Examples of compelling flaws:

Stubbornness – Anakin Skywalker (Star Wars)

Anakin’s refusal to heed warnings from mentors like Obi-Wan Kenobi, even as visions of his wife’s death haunt him, drives him to embrace the Dark Side. 

His stubborn belief that he alone can control fate by betraying allies and seeking forbidden power transforms him into Darth Vader, a shell of his former self. The flaw isn’t his passion, but his inability to question his own choices.

Tip: Stubbornness works best when tied to their core virtue (e.g., loyalty, love). 

Ask: How does their stubbornness get in the way of something good? How does their conviction become their self-destruction?

Fear of Vulnerability – Sherlock Holmes 

Holmes uses razor-sharp logic to deflect emotional intimacy. He pushes away friends like John Watson, claiming sentiment is a “chemical defect,” yet secretly fears being unworthy of love. 

His brilliance isolates him, which is a tragic irony, since solving crimes requires understanding human motives.

Tip: Fear of vulnerability often masks shame, we can call it an armor that crushes connection. Give them moments where they almost open up, then retreat. What (or who) could finally break their armor?

Overconfidence – Tony Stark (Marvel’s Iron Man)

Stark’s genius and charisma let him quip through crises until his arrogance creates Ultron, a murderous AI. He believes he’s the smartest in the room, skipping safeguards to “save the world faster.” His flaw isn’t ambition, but his refusal to admit limits, which endangers everyone he loves.

Tip: Overconfidence shines when their talent is real, but their ego blinds them to collateral damage. Let their strength cause their worst failure.

Blind Trust – Othello (Shakespeare’s Othello)

Othello trusts Iago, his ensign, so completely that he never questions the “proof” of his wife’s infidelity. His flaw isn’t love, but his inability to imagine malice in those he calls friends. This blind spot lets Iago weaponize Othello’s devotion into paranoia and ultimately destroys his marriage and life.

Tip: Blind trust hurts most when the betrayal comes from someone they view as “safe” (a mentor, sibling, etc.). How does their optimism become a weapon for villains?

Arrogance – Victor Frankenstein (Frankenstein)

We can call Frankenstein’s obsession with conquering death his flaw, but it’s actually his belief that he owes his creation nothing. He abandons the Creature, refusing to take responsibility for its suffering. His arrogance isn’t in acting like God, but in denying the humanity of what he’s made.

Tip: Arrogance is compelling when their skill could make them heroic if they weren’t too proud to see their own cruelty. What line won’t they cross, until they do?

Ask yourself these:

• What’s their worst trait, the one they justify to themselves?
• What do they always get wrong, no matter how hard they try?
• What’s the flaw that hurts other people the most?
• When do they know they should stop, but don’t?

Think of their flaw like a ticking time bomb. It slowly messes up their choices and finally explodes into the regret that changes their life.

Step 4: Backstory: The Weight They Carry

A character’s past is not a history lesson, so it shouldn’t be narrated as such. It should be a ghost, lingering in everything they do. 

Ask yourself these:

• What’s the moment they never talk about?
• What’s a lie they tell themselves about their past?
• What’s something small, like a habit, a phrase, or a scar, that hints at a much bigger story?
• What’s a memory they go back to over and over, even when they don’t want to?
• What childhood event changed them forever?
• What’s their biggest regret?
• What’s a moment they wish they could relive?

Use subtle habits or reactions as a way of creating space for readers to imagine the emotional weight of a character’s past. Writers even draw on their personal experiences to add texture and realism. Events tied to parents—loss, pressure, trauma—can serve as emotional anchors in a character’s history. Their choices are also influenced by their environment, both past and present.

Miss Havisham (Great Expectations) doesn’t exactly say what happened to her in every scene. She doesn’t need to. It’s in the rotting wedding feast. The stopped clocks. The way she has preserved her heartbreak, letting it consume everything else.

Heathcliff (Wuthering Heights) isn’t just cruel for the sake of it. His rage, his vengeance, they’re all rooted in loss. He wasn’t born this way; he became this way. Because something was taken from him, and if he can’t have it, he’ll burn everything else down instead.

Step 5: Character Arcs: Mapping the Character Development Arc

A character arc is the shape of the emotional journey they take (or avoid) as they confront the story’s conflicts. Do they grow wiser, spiral into darkness, or stay stubbornly unchanged? Their arc depends on how they respond to the pressures of your plot.

The Positive Arc: Jane Eyre (Jane Eyre)

Jane begins as a mistreated orphan who believes love requires sacrificing her dignity. When she falls for Rochester, a wealthy man hiding a terrible secret, she nearly abandons her self-respect to stay with him. But her arc peaks when she walks away, i.e., choosing loneliness (but integrity) over compromise. By the end, she returns only after Rochester has also changed, proving her growth: she now demands equality, not rescue.

Tip: Positive arcs point toward a hopeful future, forged through self-awareness. Ask: What lie do they believe at the start, and what truth do they embrace by the end?

The Negative Arc: Dorian Gray (The Picture of Dorian Gray)

Dorian starts as a beautiful, innocent young man who fears aging. When a magical portrait begins aging in his place, he indulges in cruelty and vice, believing he’ll never face consequences. His arc is a spiral: the more he sins, the more he justifies his actions. Over time, his vanity hardens into cruelty. By the end, he’s so detached from humanity that he ruins lives, manipulates friends, and hides behind his unchanging face. His arc ends tragically: he destroys the portrait, hoping to erase his sins, but dies as a grotesque reflection of his soul.

Tip: A negative arc often stems from refusing to confront a flaw. Ask: What small compromise do they make early on that grows into irreversible harm? Does their downfall stem from refusing to confront their flaws? 

Flat (Static) vs. Growth (Dynamic) Arcs: Why Some Characters Never Change

Not all characters have arcs. Static characters stay the same (e.g., James Bond, Sherlock Holmes), while dynamic ones evolve over time, either positively or negatively, as highlighted above. 

But whether static or dynamic, they can still be round, i.e., complex, multifaceted, and lifelike, with depth and dimension. Round characters have a mix of traits, motivations, and flaws that make them feel real and relatable. They can’t be reduced to a single trait because they exist beyond the plot, influenced by their own internal struggles and desires.

For instance, throughout the entire series of Sherlock Holmes, we don’t really see him undergo changes. His brilliance, arrogance, and emotional detachment remain consistent. Yet he’s compelling because everything around him changes. 

Static characters remain consistent, but their purpose is to anchor the narrative. Holmes’ static nature, for instance, highlights the flaws of others (e.g., criminals driven by greed, clients blinded by fear), and the growth of others (e.g., Dr. Watson becomes more assertive) 

His arc isn’t about growth, but about testing his unshakable logic against chaos. Holmes isn’t “flat”; he’s round with contradictions (e.g., his boredom with mundane cases vs. his passion for intellectual puzzles). His depth comes from his complexity, not change.

Tip: Static arcs work when their role is to expose truths about others or the world. Ask: What does their stubborn consistency reveal about the story’s themes?

Are they Dynamic or Static? Ask these questions to determine your character’s arc:

• Does the character change internally (beliefs, values, mindset) from the start to the end of the story? Look for shifts in their core identity. If they start cynical but end hopeful, or begin trusting and finish paranoid, their arc hinges on this internal evolution.
• What challenges or conflicts does the character face that push them to change? Identify moments where they’re forced to confront their flaws. Maybe a betrayal, a moral dilemma, or a loss that cracks their mindset.
• Is there a clear difference between the character’s initial behavior or attitude and their final state at the end of the narrative? Compare their first and last scenes. Do they act, speak, or react differently? Subtle shifts (e.g., a timid character finally speaking up) count.
• Does the character make meaningful decisions that alter their perspective or personality? Their choices should cost them something. For example, choosing honesty over lies might lose them an ally but regain their self-respect.
• Does the character learn or realize something important by the story’s conclusion? This could be a harsh truth (“Power corrupts”) or a liberating one (“I am enough”). The lesson defines their growth or downfall.
• Can the character’s internal or external transformation be clearly identified and described? If you can’t articulate their journey in one sentence (e.g., “From vengeful to forgiving”), their arc may lack focus.
• If the character does not change, what is their purpose in the narrative? (e.g., to highlight other characters’ arcs, reinforce themes, or serve as a stable reference point.) Static characters act as mirrors. Sherlock Holmes is a good example of this.
• How does the audience’s perception of the character shift from beginning to end? Even if the character doesn’t change, the audience’s understanding of them should. A hero might start as inspiring but end up tyrannical in the reader’s eyes.
• Are the events in your story powerful enough to provoke or require meaningful change in the character? If surviving a war doesn’t reshape their worldview, ask: Was the conflict trivial to them? Stakes must match the arc.
• Does the character resist change intentionally, and if so, why? Resistance adds depth to your character. A traumatized character might cling to numbness because feeling again terrifies them, and this refusal is their flaw.

These creative exercises can also be fun ways to unlock your character’s mind.

Why Character Development Matters (and Fuels Character Education)

Have you ever read a book where the plot had twists, action, and high stakes, but you just didn’t care? Like, you were turning pages, but nothing was hitting? That’s what happens when character development is weak. It’s like watching a movie with the sound off; things are happening, you understand it’s happening, but it’s missing something. 

A plot can be brilliant, but if the characters seem like that soundless TV, the story will fall flat. And you want to avoid having flat characters in your story. As much as readers want to watch events unfold, they still want to experience them through the characters. A strong character does three things:

It Makes Readers Emotionally Invested

A well-developed character makes readers care. Without that, even the most action-packed or twist-filled story won’t leave a lasting impact. 

Take The Remains of the Day, for instance. There’s no dramatic action, it’s just the story of a man named Stevens slowly realizing he’s wasted his life. And yet, it’s gutting because he appears real. His regrets mirror our own fears about our time, our choices, and plenty of missed chances. This is why your character’s struggles need to feel real. By doing so, their victories, no matter how small, will be meaningful.

It Drives the Story Forward

Character development creates a plot. 

Ray Bradbury once said, “Plot is no more than footprints left in the snow after your characters have run by on their way to incredible destinations.” 

The choices a character makes, the lessons they learn (or refuse to), and their internal struggles determines what happens next. 

In Villette, Lucy Snowe’s loneliness is a personality trait, but also the story. The way she struggles with isolation and seeks (but also resists) connection is what makes every event matter.

It Adds Depth to Every Scene

Plot shows us what happens, but character development shows us why it matters. Your characters shouldn’t just react to the plot, but influence it. Their desires, fears, and flaws push the story forward, and it makes every choice both inevitable and unpredictable. 

Take Miss Havisham in Great Expectations. She barely moves and never leaves her crumbling mansion, yet every moment she’s on the page is loaded. Why? Because Dickens wove her entire past into the way she speaks, the way she dresses, and even the way she simply exists in a room.

That’s the power of deep character work:

• Motivation makes their choices natural, yet still keeps us guessing.
• Flaws raise the stakes because a character’s greatest threat often comes from within.
• Even small habits can reveal a character’s values and practical wisdom passed down through experience. History lingers in the smallest details (like Havisham’s stopped clocks, trapping her in time).

When a character is fully developed, even silence can give readers a sense of their inner turmoil or restraint. 

Beyond storytelling, deep character development helps in character education. When students analyze characters or create their own, they learn to think critically about values, and emotional complexity. It teaches empathy, helps them better understand their peers, and encourages reflection on their own personal experiences. Character work isn’t just for writers—it’s a tool for understanding people.

Common Character Development Mistakes (And How to Fix Them)

Even the best stories can fall apart if the characters don’t seem real. Weak character development disconnects readers. That’s why strong character work is essential.

Here are 5 of these common mistakes that flattens a character, and how you can fix them.

The ‘Perfect’ Character (Mary Sue/Gary Stu)

Problem: The character has no flaws, no real struggles, and breezes through every challenge. Nothing tests them, so nothing changes them.

Example: Bella Swan (Twilight) is often criticized for this. She’s instantly adored, faces little resistance in love, and never truly struggles in a way that forces deep personal growth.

Fix: Give them genuine weaknesses; something that hurts them, holds them back, and forces them to make hard choices. A character isn’t interesting because they succeed; they’re interesting because they struggle. The most important aspect of great storytelling is character depth.

Take Jane Eyre; Jane finds love, but she has to walk away from it first, at great personal cost, to stay true to herself.

Inconsistent Behavior

Problem: The character makes choices that don’t match their personality, just to push the plot forward.

Example: Daisy Buchanan (The Great Gatsby) is written as charming and magnetic, but when the plot needs tension, she suddenly becomes passive and indifferent. Her drive blurs, and it makes her look more like a plot device than a real person.

Fix: Every action should be earned. If a character suddenly acts in a way that contradicts their nature, show why. What’s forcing their hand? What internal battle led to this decision? If there’s no answer, rethink the scene. 

Look at Othello. His descent into jealousy is drastic, but Shakespeare carefully lays the groundwork, so it makes every outburst believable.

One-Dimensional Side Characters

Problem: The supporting characters exists only to serve the protagonist. They have no depth, no goals of their own.

Example: In Harry Potter, many side characters like Lupin, Snape, even Draco, have their own arcs that exist beyond Harry. Compare this to side characters in The Hunger Games, where many exist only to support or challenge Katniss, without much independent growth.

Fix: Every character should want something, even if it has nothing to do with the protagonist. A side character with their own life, and conflicts makes everything real. 

In Les Misérables, Éponine’s love for Marius is about him, as well as her loneliness, and her longing for something better. But you must be careful in balancing this because if the plot strays too much from the main character, the reader can still lose interest pretty quickly.

No Real Stakes or Consequences

Problem: The character faces obstacles, but nothing really sticks. They make reckless choices with no fallout. They get everything they want too easily.

Example: In The Picture of Dorian Gray, Dorian indulges in every sin, believing there are no consequences. But Wilde makes sure that’s not true; Dorian’s soul darkens, relationships crumble, and his paranoia consumes him. The lack of stakes is the point, and it’s what destroys him in the end.

Fix: Make actions cost something. If they fail, let them feel it. If they hurt someone, don’t let it magically fix itself. Growth only matters when it’s earned. 

Look at Anna Karenina, her decisions have devastating, irreversible consequences, making her story all the more haunting.

A Character Arc That Goes Nowhere

Problem: The character doesn’t grow, or their transformation seems forced. They change just because the story says they should, and not because the events demanded it.

Example: In Dracula, Jonathan Harker starts as a naive solicitor, but his arc is weak. He undergoes terrifying experiences but never truly changes in a meaningful way. Compare that to Macbeth, whose descent from honorable warrior to ruthless tyrant is so carefully built that every step is inevitable.

Fix: A strong character arc is built through cause and effect. What experience challenges their beliefs? What moment forces them to see themselves differently? Change needs to be inevitable, like the only path they could take after everything they’ve been through.

Further Examples of Strong Character Development in Literature

Here is a breakdown of a few famous characters to explore their character development:

Haymitch Abernathy (The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins)

When we first meet Haymitch, he’s a mess; drunk, bitter, and drowning in the ghosts of his past. Once a victor of the Hunger Games, now he’s just the washed-up mentor forced to train new tributes for a fight he barely survived himself. His cynical attitude turns out to be a survival mechanism. He’s seen what the Games do to people, and he’s numbing himself before they can take any more from him.

Then comes Katniss and Peeta. At first, he writes them off as just more kids doomed to die. But their defiance, especially Katniss’ unwillingness to play by the Capitol’s rules, forces him to wake up. Slowly, he starts to care, then sobers up for their sake.

By the end, Haymitch reclaims a sense of leadership, mentoring with purpose rather than obligation. He fights for them, for something bigger than himself. His arc proves that even the most broken characters can still step up when it matters.

Denver (Beloved by Toni Morrison)

Denver grows up in a house that is more like a prison, caught between her mother’s grief and the lingering presence of Beloved. She’s quiet, unsure of herself, afraid to step beyond what she knows. More than anything, she wants a life of her own, but isolation and fear keep her stuck.

Beloved’s arrival changes everything. As her mother falls deeper into the past, Denver is left with a choice: stay in the shadows or step up. It’s terrifying, but she does it, leaving 124 Bluestone Road to ask for help, even though society has always seemed like an enemy.

By the end, she isn’t the scared, voiceless girl she once was. She finds her place by rebuilding relationships with her family members and reclaiming her voice in the community. Characters don’t exist in isolation—their peers, rivals, and allies help define their growth. Often, the most overlooked characters can take control of their own stories, and Denver proves this.

Julia (1984 by George Orwell)

Julia knows how to play the game. Outwardly, she’s a loyal Party member, but behind closed doors, she rebels in small but deliberate ways, like stealing moments of freedom, chasing the thrill of defiance, and clinging to love, the one thing the Party can’t control.

She and Winston believe they’ve found something real and worth risking everything for. But in their world where Big Brother sees all, rebellion is temporary. When they’re caught, Julia faces the one test she can’t pass; torture designed to break her completely. In the end, she does what she once thought impossible. She betrays Winston.

When she reappears, she isn’t the same person. The fire is gone, the defiance erased. She’s alive, but at what cost? Her character represents the idea that in some worlds, survival is just another form of defeat, and not always triumph.

Sonya Marmeladov (Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky)

Sonya has spent her life sacrificing for others. Forced into prostitution to keep her family from starving, she bears the burden of their survival while enduring society’s judgment in silence. But despite the shame and suffering, she never loses her kindness or her faith.

When Raskolnikov confesses to murder, Sonya doesn’t recoil but listens and understands him. Instead of condemning him, she offers him compassion. Where the world sees a criminal, she sees a man who can still be redeemed.

In the end, it’s Sonya’s quiet strength that leads Raskolnikov toward repentance. She doesn’t force change on him, but simply by standing firm in her beliefs, she becomes the moral anchor he never knew he needed.

Sibyl Vane (The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde)

Sibyl Vane is a young actress who believes in the magic of art. Every night, she steps onto the stage and loses herself in the world of Shakespeare, convinced that beauty and love are the highest truths. But when she meets Dorian Gray, she sees a chance for real love that isn’t just an illusion under stage lights.

For a moment, it seems perfect. Then, everything shatters. The moment she stops performing for him, Dorian loses interest. To him, she was never a person, just a role. Heartbroken, Sibyl realizes her love was never reciprocated, and in her despair, she takes her own life.

Her tragic death holds up a mirror to Dorian’s soul. She was innocent, idealistic, and true; everything he loses as he sinks deeper into vanity and corruption.

Final Thoughts

Character development is the base of your story, and a rewarding process. A good character isn’t flawless, but one who is engaging, struggles, affects us deeply, and stays authentic. If your character doesn’t feel alive, dig deeper. Push them. Challenge them. The realer they are to you, the realer they’ll be to everyone else. Now, take a character you’ve written and ask yourself: Do they seem real? If not, Squibler’s Character Development Templates can help you create detailed character arcs. 

FAQs

Here are answers to your questions regarding characters and their development:

What are the five methods of character development?

Characters are developed through action, dialogue, character’s thoughts, relationships, and conflict. Each method reveals different layers of their personality, and affects how they struggle to grow.

How does a person’s character develop?

Through experiences, choices, and consequences. Just like in real life, a character grows when they face challenges that force them to adapt, or expose their inability to change.

Can a story work without character development?

Absolutely. Characters like Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot or Gone Girl’s Amy Dunne stay rigid, yet their flaws and fixations—Poirot’s obsession with order, Amy’s ruthless cunning—propel the plot. Their unchanging nature is the spark because the tension comes from how others around them are forced to adapt, rebel, or collapse.

What makes a character development arc satisfying?

A satisfying character development arc is natural, meaningful, and earned through real struggles and choices. The change, whether it’s growth, downfall, or resistance, should be driven by pivotal story events, not forced by the plot. Readers should clearly understand how and why the character evolves, with the arc reinforcing key themes and delivering emotional payoff.

What’s the biggest mistake writers make with character development?

Creating characters who exist only to serve the plot. A character should make choices that are real, and not just convenient for the story.

Josh Fechter

Josh is the founder and CEO of Squibler. He's authored several best-selling books and created one of the largest communities of writers online.