Now that we’ve gone through most of the standard sorta-okay advice, let’s examine some more niche advice. Some of this may not apply to your story, but who knows? You might switch genres later and decide you neeed some additional skills.
“People need to like your MC”
I can tell when people are writing MCs that they firmly believe everyone must like. How do I know this? There are some pretty obvious clues.
The character never argues with anyone, no matter how frustrated or scared they are.
They always make the most moral decision and are never forced to examine their own dark tendencies.
Any flaws the MC have are superficial, like not being able to cook or being bad at a certain subject in school. They are never lazy, impatient, hotheaded, rude, sarcastic, or anything.
There is no tension between the MC and the love interest because there’s no conflict. The love interest may be a total asshole and they passively accept it, or LI may also be a passive cinnamon roll. A lot of the time, they come across more as bully and bullied or as just friends who kiss sometimes.
But this does not a likable character make, no matter what you may believe. It makes a boring character no one cares about. Trying to hard to make your character likable will paradoxically make them insufferable.
We don’t want likable, flat, passive characters. Rather, we want characters who intrigue us and who we want to see do whatever it is they need to do – or be stopped in their rampage.
One of the easiest ways to happen is to balance good traits and bad traits. Give your character contradictions. Maybe they are kindhearted but also a bit of a bastard. Maybe they can be super sweet to some people and then absolutely horrible to others.
When your characters are a bit contradictory, we don’t know what to expect from them. Showing their perplexing nature right away means that their bad decisions feel believable, while their triumphs feel well-deserved. We keep turning the page because we can’t determine what they might do, and we want to see whether our suspicions are proven or disproven.
So this means making them a little bit unlikable. Then we’re invested in their actions because we want to see them screw up.
Revised advice: “People need to be intrigued by and invested in your MC, whether that is good or bad.”
⤝❖⤞
“Sex scenes have no purpose”
Of course, this comment does not refer to smut, which is all about sex. If you’re writing steamy romances, then of course you’re going to have some awesome sex scenes in there.
Regardless, some readers cringe at any sex scene. That’s their right, but this shouldn’t deter authors from delving into this essential element of the human experience.
No matter how much people tie themselves into puritanical knots about sex, most of us exist because of it. Fiction is meant to reflect human life in all its permutations, and that includes intimacy.
But unless you are writing full-on porn, you don’t need a million sex scenes, just like you don’t need a million fight scenes. As with everything else in a story, it needs to serve a purpose, even if that purpose is just to offer a little downtime.
You also need to be conscious of your readership and what they will expect from this story. My second book, Pride Before a Fall, has a sex scene that I massively revised to be far less pornographic. The original version was way too dirty for the vibe I was going for, which was simply to offer a sense of closure and contentment after so many difficult experiences.
It’s not cheating to do “fade to black” sequences. In fact, most of the sex scenes in my later books are written as sexually charged poems, given that they’re happening with a High Poet.
Yes, adult Cerie gets freaky – with a woman, no less.
Showing everything would feel weird, but imagining the scene with an overlay of a beautiful poem? Chef’s kiss.
How you go about it depends significantly on your story and its purpose. All that matters is that you don’t have your characters doing the nasty for no reason or too often.
Revised advice: “Sex scenes must be a treat and must play a role in the plot.”
⤝❖⤞
“Action is the only way to keep people interested”
Back in the beginning of the year, I went on a reading binge, consuming everything that Mo Xiang Tong Su has written. I finished all three of her series in about a month and a half.
What kept me reading? It actually wasn’t the dramatic fight scenes where Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian defeat the Xuanwu Slaughter Beast, or when Hua Cheng and Lie Xian fight White No-Face.
I was hooked by the downtime scenes where we get to see the characters in their element. For example, one of my favorite parts in the Heaven Official’s Blessing series is when Hua Cheng is showing Xie Lian the many statues he made during his imprisonment on Mount Tonglu. That vulnerable act drives home the pain that Hua Cheng has endured on behalf of a god who didn’t even know he existed.
That part, along with many other tender moments, is what makes the narrative so compelling. When we empathize with the characters, we care more about whether they get injured; we want them to succeed; we’re upset by their failures.
If your book is nothing but fight scene after fight scene, you are not getting people interested. You’re turning off because there’s only so many times you can swing a sword before no one cares anymore. You need these smaller, more poignant moments so that fight scenes feel important.
Revised advice: “Action provides tension and interest but cannot carry a story on its own. Intersperse action with downtime for good pacing.”
⤝❖⤞
“Characters should always say what they mean”
One time, I had someone look at the opening scene for my sixth book, Poesy, which I shared in my post about beginner writing mistakes. She claimed the entire conversion, where Uileac and Cerie are discussing the situation by the Rimuk Pass, was infodumping, not important context naturally integrated into the story.
Her suggestion was to just have the two of them hash out their feelings something like this:
Uileac: I wish you wouldn’t stay at this isolated cabin in the middle of nowhere. You could get hurt! The Sinans are restless!
Cerie: But I want to stay here and work on my poetry so I can help you and Orrinir defeat the Sinans! I want to be just like you!
Uileac: I wish you wouldn’t put yourself in danger, and it scares me that you’re a High Poet and could be in danger.
Cerie: But I want to make you proud by defending our country! Because I look up to you and Orrinir, and you’re my idol since our parents died when I was only seven!
Uileac: Oh, and I also resent that you’re a High Poet because it’s my role to protect our country. Never mind that I’ve never suggested this resentment at any time in my life.
… Utter insanity. It was perhaps the stupidest suggestion I’ve ever gotten in my writing career, and I’ve gotten quite a lot of bad ones.
Why is this so bad, though? Because real-life people rarely say what they mean, or their words have deeper meanings than the simple context of their words.
We can whine about people doing this all we want, insisting that everyone be totally forthright with their feelings and intentions, but that’s not going to happen. Most of us don’t want to be emotionally vulnerable with everyone all the time, even people we love the most.
Actions, paired with dialogue, will show us what people mean, and in a richer and more exciting way than plainly stating it.
For example, in this scene, Uileac strongly emphasizes the danger of the cabin, but he also puts his cloak over Cerie’s shoulders and “forgets” to retrieve it. As they part, she runs after him and forces him to take the cloak back.
We can tell, even without Uileac saying anything directly, that he loves and cherishes his little sister just by putting his cloak around her. We can also tell that Cerie, by demanding to stay at the cabin and by forcing him to take his cloak, wants her independence even though she loves her brother.
Again, most people do not say what they mean most of the time. We use certain terms and phrases as “stand-ins” for what we actually want. Not only is this type of emotional infodumping weird, but it also is boring; then we don’t have to guess or interpret anything.
Of course, sometimes characters just tell us things we need to know because otherwise we’d have no clue. But, when it comes to matters of the heart, let them be vague. Let them protect themselves. Let the reader figure it out.
Revised advice: “Characters should say what they mean when the reader needs factual information. Characters should not say what they mean when not saying it provides richer characterization.”
⤝❖⤞
“Writing about bad things is endorsement”
This is blatantly, laughably untrue, but I still feel the need to call it out.
Recently, the Youths have gotten this idea that talking about any difficult subject, or ever having a mildly sympathetic character do something wrong, means that the author themselves supports that action. This weird idea generally doesn’t come up with murder for some reason, but moreso for sexual themes, harkening back to this weird puritanism that has cropped up in Gen Z and Gen Alpha.
But it’s plainly wrong.
Some of the greatest literature in history has absolutely grotesque themes. The Greek tragedies are jam-packed with incest, filicide, human sacrifices, cannibalism, and worse. Were the Greeks super excited about people eating their sons or screwing their mothers? No, of course not. It’s abundantly clear in the text that these are bad things. Hence the name “Greek tragedies.”
In a more modern context, look at Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov. He wanted to explore the mindset of a pedophile, examining what makes these people tick and the societal ramifications of letting them go unchecked. However his work has been misinterpreted and perverted by society, that was clearly the intent throughout the entire text.
I will concede that there are some stories where the person obviously was delighted by whatever horrors their characters are doing. For example, James Lyndon McLeod wrote an entire self-insert murder fanfic series, then went on to perpetrate many of the crimes he detailed in his books. We can obviously guess that he was capitalizing on his personal fantasies.
So the purpose of the writing really matters. To understand the purpose, you need to be able to pick apart text and analyze it, a skill that many people are sadly losing in this fast-paced world of immediate gratification.
When you see something awful in a book, instead of assuming the author is getting off to it, stop and ask yourself some questions first. How was it portrayed? What happens afterward? Is it painted as heroic or awful? Are there consequences for this behavior, or is it applauded by everyone around?
Only then can you decide whether this violence is an endorsement or an exploration of human nature.
Revised advice: “Intention matters. You can write about difficult subjects without glorifying them if you work with an air of exploration rather than justification.”
⤝❖⤞
Great writing takes time and practice. Through judicious application of best practices, you can create a true masterpiece. This requires flexibility and a willingness to go beyond what you may necessarily be comfortable with, but the end result will be worth it.