As writers, it’s our job to craft fully-realized characters: characters that feel as real as the people around us. Like the people around us, this means our characters should be flawed.

Flaws and moral failings are, after all, an integral part of what it means to be human. Without these shortcomings, humanity would experience little conflict, triumph, or growth — all elements that define the stories we write.

For a character to feel real, they must share in our flawed humanity. When a character is too perfect, when they’re never stubborn or ridiculous or unreasonable or incensed, they lack the humanity that readers need to connect with them, to empathize with their struggles and root for their successes.

(Note: This notion applies to non-human characters as well, at least insofar as you want readers to genuinely connect with their stories.)

All this said, why is it commonplace for inexperienced writers to shy away from crafting flawed characters? The answer, in my opinion, lies with fear.

You see, most writers don’t take issue with crafting flawed villains, often going so far as to make villains evil for evil’s sake alone (a problematic storytelling choice worth exploring at a later date). Rather, writers’ hesitancy to craft flawed characters most often arises when dealing with protagonists in particular.

In most stories, it’s vital that readers connect with the protagonist, otherwise readers are unlikely to care about whether that protagonist defeats the villain, confesses their love, or makes it out of the haunted house alive. Subconsciously recognizing the importance of this reader-character connection, most writers strive to ensure that readers can sympathize with their characters.

The trouble comes when inexperienced writers mistake sympathy for likability. Fearing that genuine flaws would make their characters unlikable (and therefore make their stories unenjoyable), many writers forgo flaws in favor of crafting characters that are practically perfect in every way.

Ironically, it’s often a character’s distinct lack of imperfections that makes them so unlikeable in the first place. But a lack of realism and reader-character connection aren’t the only troubles that arise when writers fail to give their characters genuine flaws. Because flaws, as it happens, are key to crafting meaningful conflict for our stories.

How do flaws play a role in conflict?

Every story contains two types of conflict. First, there’s the external, plot-driven conflict (e.g. win the Hunger Games or die trying; get the Ring to Mordor or die trying). Then, there’s the internal, character-driven conflict (e.g. Will Katniss sacrifice her values to survive the Games? Can Frodo resist the temptation of the Ring long enough to destroy it?).

Characters’ flaws play a role in fueling both of these types of conflict.

With external conflict, a character’s flaw can hinder their ability to achieve their goal or overcome the villain. With internal conflict, flaws are often at the heart of the positive and negative character arcs that see characters grow or devolve as human beings throughout their stories. Flaws can also create strife in characters’ relationships, lead characters to make destructive decisions, or blind characters to the reality of what they need to find peace and satisfaction.

With so many elements of your story’s success riding on the flaws of your characters, it’s time we talked less about why flaws are so important and more about how you can craft impactful flaws for your characters today.

Crafting Impactful Character Flaws

In fiction, a flaw isn’t necessarily a moral shortcoming or a negative character trait. It can also be a quirk, fear, bias, limitation, or false belief that a character carries with them. Sometimes a character flaw causes harm, and sometimes it simply proves a minor annoyance or impediment to the character who possesses it or to those they come in contact with.

Any flaw a character possesses can be categorized as either minor, major, or tragic. Understanding the differences between these three types of flaws is crucial if you want to craft realistic characters whose flaws serve to fuel the conflict that takes place in your story. Let’s break down these three types of flaws together.

#1: Minor Flaw

This is a flaw that serves to distinguish a character in readers’ minds but doesn’t impact the story in any major way. Examples of a minor flaw include:

• A disability that requires the character to use a wheelchair

• A bilingual character’s tendency to misuse words in their non-native tongue

• Nail-biting or excessive knuckle-cracking

Remember, a character flaw doesn’t have to be related to morality. A physical or mental disability can be considered a “flaw” simply because being disabled is a limitation in most societies, whereas physical tics and a tendency to misuse words would qualify as quirks.

#2: Major Flaw

This is a flaw that hinders the character in a way that impacts the plot of the story. For example:

• A gambling addiction that gets a character in trouble with the mafia

• A fear of intimacy that stands between a character and true love

• Stubbornness that keeps a character from accepting help in their quest

Major flaws frequently represent moral failings, and it’s these flaws that either create or lend to the external, internal, and secondary conflicts that take place throughout a story.

#3: Tragic Flaw

Also known as a fatal flaw or hamartia, this is a flaw that ultimately leads to a character’s downfall; an Achilles’ heel, if you will. Examples of a tragic flaw include:

• A sense of duty that leads a character to sacrifice themselves unnecessarily

• A need for revenge that leads a character down a path with no happy ending

• An overly trusting nature that leads a character into financial ruin

Tragic flaws are usually moral failings or foolish tendencies that tie directly into a story’s main conflict. By the climax of the story, a character’s tragic flaw typically results in their death or defeat.

When writers are afraid that giving their characters a significant flaw will make their characters unlikable, they typically reach for a minor flaw instead. If you’ve ever read a novel featuring a brooding, misunderstood hero, a quiet nerd, or a clumsy girl who doesn’t know she’s beautiful, you’ve seen evidence of this phenomenon.

Those character archetypes are well and fine when they’re used to craft minor characters whose actions have little to no bearing on the plot. One can even serve as the foundation for a major character you intend to develop in much further detail. But remember that minor flaws don’t impact the plot of a story in any major way.

When a novel featuring a protagonist whose only flaw is their nail-biting or their fear of snakes, that protagonist is unlikely to play anything but a passive, reactionary role in that story. Even if they do manage to take charge, their distinct lack of genuine screw-ups or limitations will likely make them so efficient in their quest that the story won’t boast any real conflict.

If you want to develop genuine, impactful flaws for your story’s characters, begin by considering their journeys. It’s okay if you don’t know all the details just yet. So long as you know where your characters’ stories will begin and where you want them to end, you can craft a flaw that will create or fuel the major internal and/or external conflicts they’ll experience. For example:

• If you want your character to find true love, their flaw might be the false belief that they’re unworthy of love.

• If you want your character to defeat the evil wizard, their flaw might be an overwhelming fear of death.

• If you want your character to solve the murder mystery, their flaw might be an air of arrogance that discourages other characters from sharing helpful information.
  

In most cases, a characters’ major flaw will be a fear, false belief, or negative character trait (e.g. anger, insecurity, vanity, impulsiveness, cowardice). If you’re worried readers won’t find your characters’ likable, have no fear. Readers can forgive nearly any major flaw so long as they first sympathize with the character. This is where motivation comes into play.

Readers can forgive a character’s rudeness if they understand that the character in question is afraid of appearing vulnerable after a lifetime of abuse. They can forgive a character’s impulsiveness if the character was genuinely trying to do a good deed, and they can forgive a character’s tendency to steal if the character takes from the rich to give to the poor.

Motivation is the reason so many viewers loved the character of Dexter Morgan in the TV show Dexter. Dexter might be a serial killer, but he was a serial killer who only killed other murderers. Motivation is also the reason why readers mourned Ned Stark in A Game of Thrones, even as Ned’s overabundant sense of honor caused him to make foolish mistakes that led to his death.

Can you see how a few carefully considered character flaws can add incredible depth and realism to your story? Readers don’t want perfect characters; they want real characters. Characters as perfectly imperfect as themselves. Characters who grow and overcome, or who falter and fall short. Characters so real they seem to come to life on the page.