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Zoom In, Don’t Glaze Over: How to Describe Appearance Without Losing the Plot
You’ve met her before. The girl with “flowing ebony hair,” “emerald eyes,” and “lips like rose petals.” Or him, with “chiseled jawlines,” “stormy gray eyes,” and “shoulders like a Greek statue.”
We don’t know them.
We’ve just met their tropes.
Describing physical appearance is one of the trickiest — and most overdone — parts of character writing. It’s tempting to reach for shorthand: hair color, eye color, maybe a quick body scan. But if we want a reader to see someone — to feel the charge in the air when they enter a room — we need to stop writing mannequins and start writing people.
So let’s get granular. Here’s how to write physical appearance in a way that’s textured, meaningful, and deeply character-driven.
1. Hair: It’s About Story, Texture, and Care
Hair says a lot — not just about genetics, but about choices. Does your character tame it? Let it run wild? Is it dyed, greying, braided, buzzed, or piled on top of her head in a hurry?
Good hair description considers:
Texture (fine, coiled, wiry, limp, soft)
Context (windblown, sweat-damp, scorched by bleach)
Emotion (does she twist it when nervous? Is he ashamed of losing it?)
Flat: “Her long brown hair framed her face.”
Better: “Her ponytail was too tight, the kind that whispered of control issues and caffeine-fueled 4 a.m. library shifts.”
You don’t need to romanticise it. You need to make it feel real.
2. Eyes: Less Color, More Connection
We get it: her eyes are violet. Cool. But that doesn’t tell us much.
Instead of focusing solely on eye color, think about:
What the eyes do (do they dart, linger, harden?)
What others feel under them (seen, judged, safe?)
The surrounding features (dark circles, crow’s feet, smudged mascara)
Flat: “His piercing blue eyes locked on hers.”
Better: “His gaze was the kind that looked through you — like it had already weighed your worth and moved on.”
You’re not describing a passport photo. You’re describing what it feels like to be seen by them.
3. Facial Features: Use Contrast and Texture
Faces are not symmetrical ovals with random features. They’re full of tension, softness, age, emotion, and life.
Things to look for:
Asymmetry and character (a crooked nose, a scar)
Expression patterns (smiling without the eyes, habitual frowns)
Evidence of lifestyle (laugh lines, sun spots, stress acne)
Flat: “She had a delicate face.”
Better: “There was something unfinished about her face — as if her cheekbones hadn’t quite agreed on where to settle, and her mouth always seemed on the verge of disagreement.”
Let the face be a map of experience.
4. Bodies: Movement > Measurement
Forget dress sizes and six packs. Think about how bodies occupy space. How do they move? What are they hiding or showing? How do they wear their clothes — or how do the clothes wear them?
Ask:
What do others notice first? (a presence, a posture, a sound?)
How does their body express emotion? (do they go rigid, fold inwards, puff up?)
Flat: “He was tall and muscular.”
Better: “He had the kind of height that made ceilings nervous — but he moved like he was trying not to take up too much space.”
Describing someone’s body isn’t about cataloguing. It’s about showing how they exist in the world.
5. Let Emotion Tint the Lens
Who’s doing the describing? A lover? An enemy? A tired narrator? The emotional lens will shape what’s noticed and how it’s described.
In love: The chipped tooth becomes charming.
In rivalry: The smirk becomes smug.
In mourning: The face becomes blurred with memory.
Same person. Different lens. Different description.
6. Specificity is Your Superpower
Generic description = generic character. One well-chosen detail creates intimacy. Let us feel the scratch of their scarf, the clink of her earrings, the smudge of ink on their fingertips.
Examples:
“He had a habit of adjusting his collar when he lied — always clockwise, always twice.”
“Her nail polish was always chipped, but never accidentally.”
Make the reader feel like they’re the only one close enough to notice.
Describing appearance isn’t just about what your character looks like. It’s about what their appearance says — about how they move through the world, how others see them, and how they see themselves.
Zoom in on the details that matter. Skip the clichés. Let each description carry weight, story, and emotion. Because you’re not building paper dolls. You’re building people.
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How Body Language Changes When a Character Is Falling in Love (Whether They Admit It or Not)
When someone starts to fall, it shows up everywhere—not in the love confession (that’s the easy part), but in the twitch of a smile, in the silence that suddenly feels charged, in the way someone’s hand almost reaches out before pulling back.
╰ They start listening… with their whole damn body
Suddenly, they’re turned toward this person all the time. Full body facing them. Chin tilted slightly in. They lean forward during small talk like it’s breaking news. They notice things, like the rhythm of their voice, the way their lips move when they think too hard. They stop fiddling with their phone. Their knee bounces until the other person speaks, and then, stillness. They’re so present, it hurts.
╰ Their eye contact gets… weird
Sometimes they can’t stop looking. Sometimes they can’t look at all... There’s that moment—the pause, the flicker—where their eyes land on the other person’s mouth for just a second too long. Or they track their hands. Or notice how their hair falls into their face. It’s not about lust. It’s yearning, and it’s quiet and stupid and full of panic. And when the person catches them looking? Immediate eye dart. Back to their drink. To the sky. To anywhere else. Guilty. Flushed. Terrified.
╰ Their hands get stupid
They’re suddenly very aware of what their hands are doing. They fidget more. Or freeze. They keep their arms close to their body, like they’re worried they’ll accidentally reach out. If they touch the other person, even casually, it lingers. Not long enough to be noticed, but long enough to matter. Sometimes they adjust the other person’s collar or brush something off their sleeve and then have a tiny meltdown inside. That kind of touch feels too intimate. It’s not flirtation. It’s reverence.
╰ Their silence means more than their words
They trail off mid-sentence. Laugh at things they don’t usually laugh at. Start saying something and stop themselves. It’s because their brain is trying to do too many things at once—act normal, sound chill, don’t make it weird, try not to look like you’re in love. Meanwhile, the body is over here sweating, shifting, subtly turning toward the other person like a sunflower in denial.
╰ Their whole vibe gets softer
There’s a gentleness that creeps in. Even if they’re a sharp, snarky character, there’s a moment where they look at the person like they’re a planet they’ve just discovered. It’s brief. It’s devastating. It’s involuntary. And they might pretend it didn’t happen. But the reader saw it. The love interest definitely saw it. And suddenly, everything is different.
╰ Bonus: They mirror the other person without meaning to
Their arms cross when the other person’s do. Their head tilts. They laugh a beat after. This is subconscious connection at work. Their body wants to match this person. Sync with them. Be close without being obvious. And when they stop mirroring? That’s a sign too. Maybe something hurt. Maybe they’re trying to pull away. But the body always tells the truth, even when the character’s mouth is lying through its teeth.
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Fictional kiss prompts
Forbidden Kiss Prompts (“We’re not supposed to do this” but oops, we are)
a kiss in the shadows, hands clenched in fabric, trying to stay quiet because someone might hear.
“We can’t—if someone sees us…” — and then they kiss anyway, consequences be damned.
a stolen kiss through the bars of a prison cell, whispered promises of escape in between.
a “we’re on opposite sides” kiss during a truce, lips barely touching because if they kiss fully, they’ll never walk away.
a last-second kiss right before one of them is betrothed to someone else.
Angsty Reunion Kiss Prompts (“I thought I lost you” edition)
a kiss the second they see each other again—rough, breathless, and on the verge of falling apart.
a kiss interrupted by tears, hands holding like they’re afraid to let go.
“Why didn’t you come back?” whispered into their mouth between kisses.
a kiss where they pause halfway through just to look at each other, both a little older, a little more broken.
a kiss that tastes like salt and rain and survival.
Soft Domestic Kiss Prompts (Wholesome fluff to rest your soul)
a sleepy morning kiss, lazy and warm, exchanged without even opening their eyes.
a kiss planted absentmindedly on the top of the other’s head while making tea.
a kiss stolen while brushing their teeth together—foam and giggles included.
a soft kiss over a grocery list, mid-aisle, because “you looked too cute to ignore.”
the kind of kiss shared in bed while reading—just because one of them couldn’t help it anymore.
Post-Confession Kiss Prompts ( “Oh my god this is real” edition)
a kiss that stumbles right after the words “I love you,” like neither of them know what to do with their hands.
“You mean it?” — “Yeah.” — cue the most careful, reverent kiss of their lives.
a kiss that starts with laughter and ends in a dazed, overwhelmed silence.
one of them whispering, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” right before kissing them senseless.
a kiss that comes too fast after the confession, clumsy and colliding—because they’ve waited too long.
First Kiss Prompts (that change everything)
a kiss that starts mid-sentence, because one of them couldn’t wait one more second.
the trembling, breath-held pause right before their lips finally touch—eyes wide, hearts racing.
“If I kiss you right now, will you hate me?” – they kiss them anyway.
the kiss that’s followed by shocked silence, and then one of them blurts, “Okay… wow.”
the hesitant brush of lips—barely there—until one of them pulls the other closer like they’ve made up their mind.
Comfort Kiss Prompts (Love as a safety net)
a kiss placed gently on a trembling hand.
a kiss offered like a promise—“I’m here. I’m staying.”
a forehead kiss given after a nightmare, while whispering soft reassurances.
“You don’t have to be okay right now.” – kissed on the temple like a prayer.
the quiet, slow kiss after a panic attack, grounded in breathing and touch.
Jealousy Kiss Prompts (when emotions boil over)
a sudden, possessive kiss that shocks both of them—especially because they weren’t “together.”
a kiss to shut someone up mid-flirt—“They’re with me.”
“You’ve been avoiding me.” – “Because I saw you flirting with them.” – followed by a sharp, angry, perfect kiss.
the kind of kiss that starts in fury but ends in breathless “I need you.”
a kiss that screams “You’re mine. Even if you don’t know it yet.”
Accidental / Surprise Kiss Prompts
tripping and falling directly into a kiss—then freezing in shock as realization sets in.
a practice kiss to “make it look real” that very much does not stay platonic.
a drunken kiss that was supposed to be a dare, but lingers just a second too long.
mistaking the other person for someone else in the dark—“oh… wait—” – “don’t stop.”
an “oops-I-thought-you-were-joking” kiss that they immediately want to do again on purpose.
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10 Soul-Level Secrets Your Character Is Carrying (And Hiding Like Their Life Depends on It)
These are the kind of secrets, that keep your character up at night. The kind that twist their decisions, poison their relationships, and build a wall between who they are and who they pretend to be.
» They think they ruined someone’s life, and no one knows.
It wasn’t murder. It wasn’t obvious. But maybe they said the wrong thing. Maybe they didn’t show up when it mattered. Maybe they walked away and something irreversible happened. No one connects the dots. But they do. Every day.
They smile like everything’s fine. They help people. But underneath? They’re trying to atone for something they never confessed.
» They don’t believe they’re capable of being truly loved.
They might flirt. They might date. They might even say “I love you” like it’s nothing. But they don’t believe it when it’s said back. They think people are just being kind. Or delusional. Or lying. It doesn’t matter how good they are—it never feels like enough. So they self-sabotage. Quietly. Strategically. Like clockwork.
» They’re living a life that’s not theirs.
Maybe they took someone’s spot, figuratively or literally. Maybe they’re fulfilling someone else’s dream, wearing someone else’s name, carrying someone else’s story. They were supposed to say no. Walk away. Be honest. But now it’s too late. Too deep. Too tangled. So they pretend this version of their life is real. Even when it doesn’t feel like it.
» They’ve buried a part of their identity because it was safer.
Their queerness. Their culture. Their belief system. Their softness. Their rage. At some point, they decided—this part of me makes people leave. So they buried it. Cut it off. And now they move through life like a shadow of who they were supposed to be. They blend. They perform. But deep down, something sacred is starving.
» They still love the person they say they hate.
They’ll deny it. They’ll joke. They’ll talk sh*t with a smile. But the truth? They never really let go. And they never will. It’s in the way their voice shakes. The way they remember the smallest detail. The way they get weirdly quiet when that person’s name comes up. Love laced with bitterness is still love. That’s what makes it so hard.
» They’ve hurt someone on purpose—and never apologized.
It was calculated. Or maybe impulsive. But they knew what they were doing. And they did it anyway. Now they pretend it didn’t matter. They laugh it off. “We all make mistakes,” right? But in the quiet moments, it haunts them. They remember the look in that person’s eyes. They remember the moment they chose cruelty. And they hate themselves for it.
» They think they’re a bad person deep down.
They might be kind. Loyal. Brave. But they’re convinced it’s a performance. A mask. That underneath all the good, they’re something rotten. Unforgivable. Wrong. So they wait. For the slip-up. For the fallout. For someone to finally say it out loud: “I knew you were never really good.”
» They’re still shaped by something they pretend didn’t happen.
That thing? The trauma? The grief? The shame? They’ve never talked about it. Maybe they’ve blocked it out. Maybe they minimize it. But it’s everywhere—in the way they react to conflict, touch, silence, love. They don’t think it matters anymore. But it does. It always has.
» They dream of leaving. But never will.
Every day, they imagine packing a bag. Burning it all down. Starting over. But they stay. Because of guilt. Obligation. Fear. They smile while doing the right thing. But in the back of their mind, they’re screaming. They’ve built a prison out of choices that looked noble on paper.
» They’ve built a whole personality around keeping people from seeing who they really are.
The loud one. The chill one. The one who always makes the plans or always fixes the mess or always has a snarky comeback. It’s not fake. But it’s not all there is. They’ve decided that the real them? The soft, scared, selfish, angry, insecure them? Can’t be loved. So they keep the performance airtight. But some part of them still hopes someone will see through it anyway.
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10 Secrets Your Character Is Desperately Hiding (and Probably Will Until They Die or Get Drunk Enough to Confess)
╰ They moonlight as an absolutely awful stand-up comedian.
They don’t just tell bad jokes, they commit to them. We’re talking full costume, dollar-store wigs, a fake name like “Chuckles McSuffer,” and punchlines that make people groan so hard their souls briefly exit their bodies. And....they love it. The stage is the only place they feel weirdly free… which is why no one in their real life can ever know. Ever.
╰ They can dance like their life depends on it, but they never do it in public.
We’re talking footwork that would make a music video jealous. Rhythm in their bones. But they’ve decided the world isn’t ready. Or maybe they’re not. So they only dance alone in the kitchen at 2 a.m. Or in the middle of a supermarket aisle when they think no one’s looking. And when they do get caught? “Nope. That wasn’t me. That was… a spasm. Mind your business.”
╰ They’re secretly freakishly good at imitating animals.
Birds. Dogs. Goats. Snakes. They’ve got the sounds, the gestures, the whole weird little zoo living inside them. It’s the kind of skill you don’t admit to having because it’s impossible to explain how it started or why you’re so good at it. They only let it out when alone… or, let’s be real, when they’re trying to impress someone and immediately regret it.
╰ They are the office prankster. And no one suspects a thing.
Every missing stapler, glitter bomb, whoopee cushion, and mysteriously replaced family photo? That’s them. The mild-mannered barista/accountant/space pilot you’d never suspect. They’ve got an entire prank calendar hidden in their sock drawer and a spreadsheet of targets and outcomes. But they also have boundaries. No emotional damage. Just chaos.
╰ They have a full-on karaoke alter ego.
Different name. Different voice. Whole new personality. They sneak off to karaoke bars in the next town over wearing sunglasses indoors and croon power ballads like their soul is trapped in a 2005 romcom montage. Their go-to number is “Total Eclipse of the Heart.” Their real friends have no idea. And if they ever found out? This character would simply evaporate.
╰ They collect the weirdest sh*t you’ve ever seen.
Not stamps. Not coins. Try: novelty rubber ducks. Ugly fridge magnets. Cursed porcelain dolls. Empty chip bags from every country they’ve visited. Their closet is one shelf away from being a museum of “What Even Is This.” No one knows. No one must know. It brings them joy. It’s their version of peace. And yeah, it’s a little creepy. But it’s theirs.
╰ They cannot cook to save their life. Like, not even toast.
They once set a salad on fire. The microwave fears them. Every “simple recipe” turns into a crime scene. But instead of admitting it, they just… lie. Constantly. “Oh yeah, I made that!” (They did not. Their neighbor did. And their neighbor swore never to speak of it again.) They’ve mastered the art of deflection, distraction, and showing up with “store-bought but plated nicely.”
╰ They live their life by a bunch of completely nonsensical superstitions.
Never wear green on Wednesdays. If a pigeon looks at you sideways, cancel your plans. Salt must be thrown over the right shoulder or the demons will know. They’ve got a ritual for everything, from writing emails to picking socks. But no one knows they believe this stuff, because they make it look casual. Strategic coincidence. That’s the game.
╰ They throw underground dance parties in their basement. Alone. In costume.
Disco ball? Check. Fog machine? Obviously. Elaborate themed playlists? You bet. Their Tuesday nights are sacred: just them, their playlist called “Sad but Funky,” and a new costume every week. No one suspects. Not the roommates. Not the neighbors. If anyone ever found out, they’d lie and say it was for a friend’s child’s birthday. Every week. Sure.
╰ Their hobbies are… specific. And objectively hilarious.
Like, not “I read books and do yoga” hobbies. More like: competitive pillow fighting. Binge-watching bug documentaries and taking notes. Collecting socks with political slogans. Writing erotica starring finger puppets (don’t ask). They act normal, mostly. But their browser history is a carnival. And their heart? Pure chaos.
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Enemies to lovers Prompts #1
↠ Rival Bakers Who Can’t Stand Each Other…
She thinks his croissants are too buttery. He thinks her cupcakes are overrated. They’ve spent years side-eyeing each other from across the town bakery scene, but now? They’re stuck in the same high-stakes baking competition. Forced to share tips, kitchen space, and maybe a few late-night practice sessions, they realize that hate tastes a lot like love, just with extra frosting.
↠ The Nerd vs. The Popular Kid, but Feelings Get in the Way…
She’s the star of the debate team. He’s the guy who doesn’t even bring a backpack to school. They’ve never exchanged a sentence that wasn’t filled with sarcasm, until they’re paired for the biggest project of the semester. Deadlines, arguments, and way too many late-night study sessions later, the real problem isn’t the assignment. It’s the way they suddenly can’t stop looking at each other.
↠ Small-Town War Over a Garden (And Also Their Hearts)…
She wants a peaceful community garden where kids can learn about nature. He wants a shiny new business development that totally doesn’t need another Starbucks. They start as enemies, throwing around legal jargon and passive-aggressive town hall speeches, but somehow, between planting flowers and fighting over zoning laws, their arguments start to feel a little too much like foreplay.
↠ Fairy vs. Guardian... a Magical Disaster (That Ends in Love)…
She’s a reckless little menace with wings. He’s a brooding, by-the-book guardian of the enchanted forest. They get stuck together on one mission and immediately hate everything about each other, until late-night stakeouts and accidental life-saving moments make them rethink everything. Turns out, magic isn’t the most powerful force in the forest. They are.
↠ Two Rival Animal Shelter Volunteers Who’d Rather Strangle Each Other than Fall in Love.
She thinks dogs belong on cozy blankets. He thinks they belong outside, running free. Every time they cross paths at the animal shelter, someone ends up yelling. But when a batch of abandoned puppies needs their help, they’re suddenly stuck working together. Between midnight feedings and arguing over the best chew toys, their rivalry starts feeling a little too much like flirting.
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Character Movements — When They’re in Love (and Probably Don’t Want to Admit It)
Love doesn’t just blush and flutter. It aches. It stumbles. It leaks through the cracks, even when a character is trying to play it cool. Here’s what love looks like when it’s happening in the body before the character’s brave enough to say it.
╰ They lean in—and don’t realize it.
It’s instinct. Subconscious. Like their body is quietly screaming, closer. A slow drift during conversation. A head tilted slightly too far. A step forward they don’t take back.
╰ They can’t quite make eye contact—but they can’t stop looking.
They glance. Look away. Glance again. Maybe their gaze drops to the mouth. Maybe it hovers on the hands. Eye contact is too dangerous, it sees too much, but looking away entirely? Impossible.
╰ They fidget in specific, revealing ways.
Tugging sleeves. Adjusting jewelry. Touching their mouth when the other person talks. These aren’t nervous tics, they’re little release valves for all the don’t-say-it-don’t-feel-it energy.
╰ They mirror the other person.
Their gestures sync. Their laughs overlap. They cross their arms a beat after the other person does, and don’t even notice. Their body’s doing the bonding for them.
╰ They hover instead of touching.
The space between two people in love-but-not-there-yet is holy. Brushing hands. Shared drinks. Standing so close their shoulders almost touch, but never quite. Like if they make contact, it’s game over.
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What to Give a Sh*t About While Editing Your Book
↳ Emotional Impact
Ask yourself: Do I actually feel something here? If a scene is technically “well-written” but emotionally flat, it’s dead weight. Your readers won’t remember your clever metaphors, but they’ll remember the way a quiet line of dialogue made their stomach drop. So yeah—give a sh*t about that.
↳ Character Motivation That Actually Makes Sense
If your characters are making decisions just because the plot needs them to… we’ve got a problem. In edits, zoom in on their choices. Are they acting like real, flawed, complex humans? Or puppets? Edit until their actions make you nod and go, “Yep. That’s exactly what that little disaster would do.”
↳ Cutting the “Almost Good” Stuff
This hurts, but it’s necessary. Some lines are nice. Pretty. Kind of smart. But if they’re not serving the story, they’ve got to go. Save them in a “kill darlings” file. Grieve if needed. But don’t let “kinda good” block the greatness trying to come through.
↳ Scene Purpose
Every scene needs to earn its place like it’s paying rent. Does it move the plot? Deepen character? Build tension? Ideally, two out of three. If the answer is “it’s vibes,” that might work for a paragraph—but not for 3,000 words. Cut. Condense. Clarify. Your future reader will thank you.
↳ Pacing That Doesn’t Bore People to Death
Look, I love a moody slow burn too. But if your story crawls for 50 pages without conflict, tension, or curiosity—your reader will ghost you. Read your scenes out loud. If you’re zoning out? So will they. Tighten that sh*t up.
↳ Dialogue That Sounds Like Real People (and Not AI)
If your characters sound like they're reading from a very polite script, it’s time to rewrite. Interruptions, unfinished thoughts, weird little phrases—those are gold. Make it messy. Make it sound like how people actually talk when they’re nervous, angry, or halfway in love and lying about it.
↳ Themes You Accidentally Nailed (and Can Now Strengthen)
Themes tend to sneak in while you’re drafting. During edits? Time to spotlight them. Don’t slap it on with a neon sign—but do lean into the emotional throughline you already created. It’s probably smarter and more beautiful than you gave yourself credit for.
↳ Your Voice
Don’t edit your weird out. Editing is for clarity, not sanding down your style until it sounds like generic internet writing. Keep the voicey bits. The odd metaphors. The lines that sound exactly like you. That’s what readers fall in love with—not perfection.
↳ Trusting That You’ll Need Multiple Rounds
This isn’t one-and-done. Your second draft will suck differently than your first. Your third might suck less, but still suck. That’s fine. It’s part of the process. What matters is that each time, it gets sharper, truer, and more you.
↳ Not Quitting Halfway Through Just Because It’s Hard
Editing is hard. But you’ve already done the impossible: you wrote a damn book. That’s massive. Now you’re just sculpting it. Don’t give up because it’s messy. Don’t panic because it’s not “there” yet. Keep showing up. Even if it’s just one scene at a time. Even if you’re crying into your tea. Especially then.
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Character Careers That Aren't Clichés
(because fictional economies deserve better too)
Look. I get it. I do. A hot CEO. A dreamy small-town baker. A moody artist who somehow lives in a massive Brooklyn loft despite only selling two paintings a year. Those characters have their place.
But if you want your story to feel fresh, real, alive — sometimes you’ve gotta ditch the Insta-ready jobs and actually think: What does this person do at 9 a.m. on a Wednesday? What would they complain about after a garbage day at work?
Here’s how to get careers that feel like they belong to an actual human, not a catalog model...
❥ The "Unexpected But Perfect" Career Pick something that makes your reader go, wait, what? and then oh my god, that's so them. Like:
A chaotic, disaster character who’s actually a surprisingly competent funeral director. (Yes, it’s messy. Yes, it’s weirdly perfect.)
The quiet, overlooked character who’s a locksmith. Always helping people get inside things. Always a little lonely themselves.
The job should reflect the character’s secret self.
❥ The “Soul-Crushing Job They’re Too Good For” Reality Check Not everybody is their Dream Job Self yet. Some characters are stuck. Flipping burgers, filing invoices, answering phones for screaming Karens named Marge. And you know what? There’s story gold there. Give me the character who’s quietly making art out of coffee foam because it’s the only creative outlet they’ve got. Give me the character who’s wasting in a job they hate, but who hums with what could be underneath.
Failure and frustration? Delicious character fuel.
❥ The "Job That Messes With Their Brain" Career Certain jobs change you. Make you hard in weird places and soft in weirder ones. Lean into that.
A paramedic who's numb to blood but cries at dog food commercials.
A social worker who can’t listen to their friends' minor drama without tuning out completely.
A vet tech who talks to animals better than people.
The job should bruise them in little invisible ways.
❥ The “Work Family or Work Frenemies” Setup Office dynamics are like nuclear reactors: volatile, ridiculous, and perfect for drama.
Give them the boss who’s a passive-aggressive nightmare in group emails but buys everyone surprise cupcakes on Fridays.
Give them the coworker they want to strangle and defend to death when someone outside the office talks crap.
Make their work life messy. (Because it IS messy.)
❥ Actual Career Ideas You Can Steal Because I Love You (yes, you have my blessing, take 'em, twist 'em, make them yours)
Travel nurse who secretly dreams of putting down roots
Archivist in a creepy, half-forgotten library wing
Theme park mascot who has existential crises inside the costume
Home inspector who lowkey loves snooping through strangers' houses
Court stenographer who writes fanfiction on the side during boring trials
Aquarium maintenance tech (yes, it’s a thing, yes, it’s hilarious and tragic)
Disaster clean-up specialist (like post-floods, fires, crime scenes , very spicy potential)
Final Truth Bomb: Your character’s job doesn't have to be their whole identity. (Shocking, I know, Hollywood.)
But it should still touch them somehow. It should rub off on the way they move through the world, the way they talk, the way they size up a stranger in five seconds flat. Because we are all shaped by how we spend our hours, whether we mean to be or not.
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Grumpy x Sunshine – Romantic Gestures They’d Actually Do
GRUMPY’S VERSION OF ROMANCE (Spoiler: It’s Feral and Subtle)
They’re emotionally constipated and probably communicate in grunts, but when they fall? They fall hard. Their gestures are quiet, practical, but deeply telling.
╰ Acts of Silent Protection They walk on the outside of the sidewalk. They check your tires. They hand you your umbrella without a word when it rains. They love you like a bodyguard with a soft spot.
╰ “I Noticed You’re Tired, So I Took Over” Energy They won’t say, “You deserve rest.” They’ll just do the laundry, make sure you eat, and leave you alone with a hot drink and a blanket like a cryptic little caretaker.
╰ The Reluctant Vulnerability Gift “I saw this and thought you’d like it. It’s dumb.” (It’s not dumb. It’s a first-edition copy of your favorite book. And they had to talk to a bookseller. The horror.)
╰ Jealousy in Microdoses The way their jaw tightens when someone flirts with you. The “I’m fine” that clearly means I will fight for your honor, please let me.
╰ Being Soft Only for You Sunshine gets to see the grumpy one laugh, maybe cry, maybe be human for once. If they fall asleep on you mid-rant, that’s basically a marriage proposal.
SUNSHINE’S VERSION OF ROMANCE (They’re Basically a Walking Hallmark Card)
They love big, loud, and with no chill. Their gestures are joyful, sometimes chaotic, and always from the heart.
╰ Loving the Grump Out Loud Compliments like confetti. Constant check-ins. Arms flung around them in front of people, daring them to pretend they’re not affected. (They are. Deeply.)
╰ Baking When They’re Sad “Oh, you’re mad? Here, I made brownies shaped like hearts. Do you want to talk about it or just eat six?”
╰ Pet Names for DAYS Babe, sweetie, honey-bear, muffin. Even “angry cloud man.” Sunshine will name their grumpy love interest like they’re a collection of Build-A-Bears.
╰ Surprise Playlists and Stickers on Their Laptop “This song made me think of you!” / “I put a little cartoon possum sticker on your laptop because it looks like you when you’re mad!”
╰ They Bring the Spark Back Sunshine doesn’t just love. They light up the relationship, especially when the grump forgets what it’s like to feel safe or wanted. That’s not just cute. That’s healing.
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10 Lies Your Character Believes About Themselves (And They’d Die Before Admitting It)
These aren't the fun, Disney Channel lies like “I'm just a regular girl” while literally being a secret pop star. These are the ugly ones. The ones that get in your character’s blood and start rewriting their whole life without them noticing.
» “If people really knew me, they'd leave.” Not "might." Would. No question. So they smile bigger. They edit harder. They keep conversations surface-level. All while carrying this bone-deep certainty that love is conditional... and they are dangerously close to failing the test.
» “I have to earn every good thing.” Rest? Happiness? A day without guilt? They treat those things like prizes at the end of a brutal obstacle course. No one told them they could just have good things. No strings. No blood price. (So they keep bleeding anyway.)
» “I'm too much.” Too loud. Too intense. Too sensitive. Too complicated. They know it. They've been told. So now they pull themselves in, hold their breath, bite back everything real until they barely take up space at all. (And ironically, they still think they’re being "too much.")
» “I'm not enough.” Neat little trick, right? They’re both "too much" and "not enough" at the same time. Magic. They're convinced everyone else got the secret manual for how to be lovable and they somehow missed it.
» “If I'm strong enough, nothing can hurt me.” They call it resilience. Other people call it stubbornness. Reality calls it self-destruction. They've mistaken numbness for healing and independence for invulnerability. But hurt still gets in. It just hits harder when it’s been bottled up for years.
» “I’m responsible for everyone's happiness.” Caretaker. Peacemaker. Therapist friend. Emotional sponge. They’ve appointed themselves as everyone's safety net, believing that if they don’t hold everything together, everything will fall apart. (Newsflash: it's not their circus, and it never was.)
» “I don't need anyone.” Need is a dirty word. It’s weak. It’s dangerous. So they white-knuckle their way through life, collecting scars and pretending it’s freedom. But late at night? In the dark? They’d sell their soul for someone to just... stay.
» “I'm the villain in someone else's story and they might be right.” They know they've hurt people. Made bad calls. Left damage. And no matter how much good they do now, some part of them whispers, You don’t get to come back from that.
» “My best days are behind me.” Whether they peaked in high school, lost their shot at something important, or just carry a chronic ache of nostalgia, they believe it’s too late. That nothing good can be built from where they are now. (Which, ironically, makes them waste even more time.)
» “This is as good as it gets.” They settle. For bad love. Boring jobs. Half-dead dreams. They tell themselves it's "realistic." "Mature." "Practical." But underneath? It's fear. It's heartbreak. It's the quiet belief that hope is something they can’t afford anymore.
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Unhealed Wounds Your Character Pretends Are Just “Personality Traits”
These are the things your character claims are just “how they are” but really, they’re bleeding all over everyone and calling it a vibe.
╰ They say they're "independent." Translation: They don’t trust anyone to stay. They learned early that needing people = disappointment. So now they call it “being self-sufficient” like it’s some shiny badge of honor. (Mostly to cover up how lonely they are.)
╰ They say they're "laid-back." Translation: They stopped believing their wants mattered. They'll eat anywhere. Do anything. Agree with everyone. Not because they're chill, but because the fight got beaten out of them a long time ago.
╰ They say they're "a perfectionist." Translation: They believe mistakes make them unlovable. Every typo. Every bad hair day. Every misstep feels like proof that they’re worthless. So they polish and polish and polish... until there’s nothing real left.
╰ They say they're "private." Translation: They’re terrified of being judged—or worse, pitied. Walls on walls on walls. They joke about being “mysterious” while desperately hoping no one gets close enough to see the mess behind the curtain.
╰ They say they're "ambitious." Translation: They think achieving enough will finally make the emptiness go away. If they can just get the promotion, the award, the validation—then maybe they’ll finally outrun the feeling that they’re fundamentally broken. (It never works.)
╰ They say they're "good at moving on." Translation: They’re world-class at repression. They’ll cut people out. Bury heartbreak. Pretend it never happened. And then wonder why they wake up at 3 a.m. feeling like they're suffocating.
╰ They say they're "logical." Translation: They’re terrified of their own feelings. Emotions? Messy. Dangerous. Uncontrollable. So they intellectualize everything to avoid feeling anything real. They call it rationality. (It's fear.)
╰ They say they're "loyal to a fault." Translation: They mistake abandonment for loyalty. They stay too long. Forgive too much. Invest in people who treat them like an afterthought, because they think walking away makes them "just as bad."
╰ They say they're "resilient." Translation: They don't know how to ask for help without feeling like a burden. They wear every bruise like a trophy. They survive things they should never have had to survive. And they call it strength. (But really? It's exhaustion wearing a cape.)
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Write Characters Who Feel Dangerous (Even If They’re "Good")
╰ Make their unpredictability a feature, not a bug
A dangerous character isn’t just the guy with the gun. It’s the one you can’t quite predict. Maybe they’re chaotic-good. Maybe they’re lawful-evil. Maybe they’re smiling while they’re plotting the next five ways to ruin your day. If the reader can’t tell exactly what they’ll do next — congrats, you’ve made them dangerous.
╰ Give them a weapon that's personal
Anyone can have a sword. Yawn. Give your character a weapon that says something about them. A violin bow turned garrote. A candy tin full of arsenic. Their own charisma as a leash. The weapon isn’t just what they fight with, it’s how they are.
╰ Let them choose not to strike and make that scarier
Sometimes not acting is the biggest flex. A truly dangerous character doesn’t need to explode to be terrifying. They can sit back, cross their legs, sip their coffee, and say, “Not yet.” Instant chills.
╰ Layer their menace with something else, humor, kindness, sadness
One-note villains (or heroes!) are boring. A dangerous character should make you like them right up until you realize you shouldn’t have. Let them charm. Let them save the kitten. Let them do something that makes the eventual threat feel like betrayal.
╰ Show how other characters react to them
If every character treats them like a nuclear bomb in the room, your reader will, too. Even if your dangerous character is polite and quiet, the dog that won’t go near them or the boss who flinches when they smile will sell the danger harder than a blood-soaked axe.
╰ Make their danger internal as well as external
It’s not just what they can do to others. It’s what they’re fighting inside themselves. The anger. The boredom. The itch for chaos. Make them a little bit scary even to themselves, and suddenly they’re alive in ways pure external "baddies" never are.
╰ Don't make them immune to consequences
Even the most dangerous characters should get hit—physically, emotionally, socially. Otherwise, they turn into invincible cartoons. Let them lose sometimes. Let them bleed. It’ll make every moment they win feel twice as earned (and twice as scary).
╰ Tie their danger to what they love
Real threats aren't powered by anger; they're powered by love. Protectiveness can be feral. Loyalty can turn into violence. A character who's dangerous because they care about something? That's a nuclear reactor in a leather jacket.
╰ Remember: danger is a vibe, not a body count
Your character doesn’t have to kill anyone to be dangerous. Sometimes just a glance. A whispered rumor. A quiet, calculated decision to leave you alive — for now. Dangerous characters control the room without ever raising their voice.
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Write Rivals With Chemistry So Hot It Hurts
╰ Rivalry isn’t hate — it’s obsession True rivals aren't just like, “ugh, I dislike you.” They’re watching each other. Studying. Matching moves. Thinking about each other when they shouldn’t. Hating how much they notice the other person. Rivalry is two sides of the same coin: hatred’s messy little sibling is fascination.
╰ Let them know exactly where to hit—and hesitate The best rivals know exactly where to stick the knife. Childhood wounds. Secret fears. Insecurities no one else sees. But the most powerful moment isn't when they stab, it's when they hesitate. When they flinch. When the reader sees the care underneath the kill shot.
╰ Make every win personal Every victory between rivals should feel like flirting with a knife’s edge. They don't just beat each other; they get under each other's skin. "I outsmarted you" translates directly to "I'm the only one who really sees you." (And no, they're not ready to talk about why that makes them insane.)
╰ Layer the attraction under everything You don't have to write "he found her hot" every five seconds. (Please don't.) Just lace it into the friction. The way they notice each other’s hands. The way a sarcastic smile feels like a slap and a kiss at the same time. Let it be unspoken, which somehow makes it ten times louder.
╰ Give them one private, honest moment and then destroy them for it That one late-night conversation. That brush of honesty. That accidental partnership in a bar fight. That glimpse of trust that leaves them both raw and feral because now it’s personal. Now it hurts. And guess what? Neither of them is stable enough to handle it like adults.
╰ Let them wound each other in ways no one else can Rivals with chemistry are like: “I know your softest place. I know where you hurt. And maybe I’m the only one who could ever touch it.” Terrifying. Intimate. Sexy. Self-destructive. Delicious.
╰ Don’t make it easy to flip to love If they hook up too soon, it’s cheap. If they confess too soon, it’s fake. They have to fight it. They have to screw it up. They have to almost kiss and almost kill each other in the same breath. The reward is sweeter because it’s hard won.
╰ Make them jealous, but make it messy Not cutesy "oh no I'm jealous" moments. Ugly jealousy. Pride-shredding, shame-inducing jealousy. Watching their rival smile at someone else and feeling like they're drowning in acid and denial. Bonus points if they pretend they’re above it and then spiral anyway.
╰ Tension isn’t just in the fighting—it’s in the silences It’s the stare across the room that says “I hate you and I want you” with zero words. It’s the hand that lingers a second too long after pulling them out of danger. It's the unsent text. It's the "accidental" meeting. Sometimes not speaking burns hotter than the screaming matches.
╰ Remember, they don’t want to ruin each other, they want to matter At the core of a rival/chemistry dynamic is one brutal truth: “I want to matter to you more than anyone else does.” And they’ll deny it. And fight it. And wreck themselves over it. (And we, as the readers, will eat it with a goddamn spoon.)
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Habits That Reveal Deep Character
(A.K.A. the quiet stuff that says everything without screaming it)
❥ The “I Always Sit Facing the Exit” Quirk They don’t talk about their childhood much, but they always know where the exits are. Every restaurant. Every train. Trauma has muscle memory. Your job is to notice what it’s saying without needing a monologue about it.
❥ The “I Can’t Sleep Until I Hear You Lock the Door” Habit It's not controlling. It's care shaped like paranoia. They say “Goodnight” like it’s casual, but they’re counting the clicks of the lock like a lullaby. Let that show more than “I love you.”
❥ The “I Keep Everything You’ve Ever Given Me” Thing Not just gifts. Receipts with your doodles. The crumpled note you wrote when you were mad. Every bit of you that felt real. It’s borderline hoarder behavior, but also? It’s devotion.
❥ The “I Cook When I’m Sad” Pattern Their world’s falling apart, but suddenly everyone has banana bread. It’s not about food—it’s about control, about creating something warm when everything else is cold. And they won’t say it out loud, but they're asking, “Will you stay?”
❥ The “I Practice Conversations in the Mirror” Secret Before big moments, hard talks, or just answering the phone. They're rehearsing being okay. They're trying to be the version of themselves people expect. That’s not weakness—it’s survival wrapped in performance art.
❥ The “I Fix Other People’s Problems to Ignore My Own” Reflex Everyone calls them “strong,” but no one notices how fast they redirect. “How are you doing though?” they ask, one heartbeat after breaking down. Let your reader see how exhaustion wears a smile.
❥ The “I Never Miss A Birthday” Rule Even for people who forgot theirs. Even for exes. It’s not about being remembered—it’s about being someone who remembers. That’s character.
❥ The “I Clean When I Feel Powerless” Mechanism That sparkling sink? Not about hygiene. That’s grief control. That’s despair in a Clorox wipe. Let it speak volumes in the silence of a spotless room.
❥ The “I Pretend I Don’t Need Help” Lie They say, “I’m fine” like it’s a full stop. But their hands shake when they think no one’s looking. Let your other characters notice. Let someone care, even when they don’t ask for it.
❥ The “I Watch People When They’re Not Watching Me” Curiosity Not in a creepy way. In a poet’s way. In a “who are you when no one’s clapping” way. They love the in-between moments: laughter in elevators, fidgeting before speeches. That's who they are—observers, not performers.
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Ways I Show a Character Is Falling Apart While Pretending to Be a Perfectionist
Some characters don’t collapse in a blaze of glory. No, they disintegrate politely, with color-coded planners and a frozen smile that says, "Everything’s fine, Susan, stop asking."
They cling even harder to routines. Morning jog, 5 a.m. journaling, bullet-journaling their dog’s bowel movements. Because if they just keep checking boxes, they can pretend nothing’s crumbling underneath.
They hyperfixate on weird tiny details. The report can be on fire, but by god, they will die on the hill of choosing the right font. ("If I find the perfect serif, maybe my life will stop feeling like it's slipping through my fingers!")
They say "I'm just really busy!" like it’s a badge of honor, when it’s actually a giant red flag made out of calendar invites and suppressed emotions.
They can't finish anything anymore. They start 14 different projects, convinced each new thing will "finally get them back on track"…and end up ghosting every single one like a bad Tinder date.
Their compliments to others are laced with self-hate. "You’re so talented, I could never pull that off" they say, smiling while beating themselves bloody on the inside.
They apologize. For everything. Late by two minutes? "I’m so sorry." Sent an email? "Sorry if that’s annoying!" Existing? "Sorry for breathing the same air!"
They're "fine." Always "fine." It's said with the same energy as someone duct-taping a broken chair and inviting you to sit on it.
They self-medicate with "productive" coping. Organizing their spice rack at midnight? Totally normal. Redesigning their resume for no reason while crying into a box of crackers? Absolutely fine. Nothing to see here.
They get defensive about the dumbest things. “Of course I’m okay! Look at my to-do list!” (Sure, babe. Tell that to your bloodshot eyes and the way you just called your boss "Mom" on Zoom.)
Their version of self-care is making another list titled “How to Fix Myself” and then immediately feeling guilty for needing it.
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Genius Things to Do When You’re Stuck in Your Plot...
Make a fake conspiracy board connecting every character like you're solving a murder. Use string, post-its, color-coded chaos. Even if your book isn’t a thriller, this helps you spot secret relationships, hidden motivations, and “oh crap, this character actually caused that moment three chapters later” reveals.
Write a therapy session transcript for your protagonist. What would they say to a stranger? What wouldn’t they say? What does the therapist pick up on that they don’t? (Also: gives you instant internal conflict fuel.)
Record a fake podcast episode where your villain is a guest. The topic? “Why I Was Right and Everyone Else Is Just Soft.” Let them monologue. Let them get unhinged. You’ll learn so much about their worldview and how they justify their chaos.
Assign zodiac signs to all your main characters and write how they’d react to a haunted house. Not because astrology is the answer—but because forcing your brain to imagine characters in weird situations unlocks surprising truths. (Your Scorpio would definitely flirt with the ghost. Your Virgo brought sage.)
Write the worst possible ending to your story on purpose. Like, make it hilariously bad. Deus ex machina, everyone dies, aliens show up—it doesn’t matter. Sometimes mocking your plot actually helps you figure out what doesn’t work so you can reverse-engineer what does.
Do a “what if this happened instead?” daydream session in the shower or on a walk. No pressure. Just free-thinking. Let your brain go off-road. You might stumble into a better twist, or a softer moment, or a scene that guts you in the best way.
Write the one scene you’re most excited about—now. Even if you “haven’t earned it” yet in the draft. Screw linear order. Give yourself a jolt of joy. That scene might be the key to unlocking everything else.
Make your characters write Yelp reviews about each other. “One star. Always steals my fries. Would still die for him.” This is ridiculous, yes. But it will reveal interpersonal tension you didn’t know was there.
Tell your plot to someone who knows nothing about it—and see where they get confused. Your roommate. Your cat. Your reflection. If you can’t explain it out loud in 2 minutes, it’s probably too complicated. Simplify the heart of the story. Get clear again.
Write a flash-forward epilogue. Even if it never makes it into the book. Where do these characters end up? Who are they now? That can tell you where the real story wants to go—and help you figure out what’s missing along the way.
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