𝔣𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔥 𝔠𝔬𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔢 + 𝔣𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔥 𝔣𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔰 + 𝔣𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔥

In the past fifty years, fantasy’s greatest sin might be its creation of a bland, invariant, faux-Medieval European backdrop. The problem isn’t that every fantasy novel is set in the same place: pick a given book, and it probably deviates somehow. The problem is that the texture of this place gets everywhere.

What’s texture, specifically? Exactly what Elliot says: material culture. Social space. The textiles people use, the jobs they perform, the crops they harvest, the seasons they expect, even the way they construct their names. Fantasy writing doesn’t usually care much about these details, because it doesn’t usually care much about the little people – laborers, full-time mothers, sharecroppers, so on. (The last two books of Earthsea represent LeGuin’s remarkable attack on this tendency in her own writing.) So the fantasy writer defaults – fills in the tough details with the easiest available solution, and moves back to the world-saving, vengeance-seeking, intrigue-knotting narrative. Availability heuristics kick in, and we get another world of feudal serfs hunting deer and eating grains, of Western name constructions and Western social assumptions. (Husband and wife is not the universal historical norm for family structure, for instance.)

Defaulting is the root of a great many evils. Defaulting happens when we don’t think too much about something we write – a character description, a gender dynamic, a textile on display, the weave of the rug. Absent much thought, automaticity, the brain’s subsconscious autopilot, invokes the easiest available prototype – in the case of a gender dynamic, dad will read the paper, and mom will cut the protagonist’s hair. Or, in the case of worldbuilding, we default to the bland fantasy backdrop we know, and thereby reinforce it. It’s not done out of malice, but it’s still done.

The only way to fight this is by thinking about the little stuff. So: I was quite wrong. You do need to worldbuild pretty hard. Worldbuild against the grain, and worldbuild to challenge. Think about the little stuff. You don’t need to position every rain shadow and align every tectonic plate before you start your short story. But you do need to build a base of historical information that disrupts and overturns your implicit assumptions about how societies ‘ordinarily’ work, what they ‘ordinarily’ eat, who they ‘ordinarily’ sleep with. Remember that your slice of life experience is deeply atypical and selective, filtered through a particular culture with particular norms. If you stick to your easy automatic tendencies, you’ll produce sexist, racist writing – because our culture still has sexist, racist tendencies, tendencies we internalize, tendencies we can now even measure and quantify in a laboratory. And you’ll produce narrow writing, writing that generalizes a particular historical moment, its flavors and tongues, to a fantasy world that should be much broader and more varied. Don’t assume that the world you see around you, its structures and systems, is inevitable.

We... need worldbuilding by Seth Dickinson

the problem with addiction is not that it's pleasurable. it's not "having too much fun" disease. it's not even a requirement for addiction that you have fun at any point in the process at all and to be honest it is incredibly common that no pleasure is gained from substance use. imagining that addiction is about pleasure does two things: 1) demonises feeling good (there is nothing wrong with wanting to be happy/comfortable/etc), and 2) frames addicts as people who Like Having Fun Too Much. it's simply not useful to frame things this way as well as just fundamentally not being true

Writing Platonic Relationships

When writing relationships between characters, one of the best things you can do as a writer is master the art of platonic relationships. Not every relationship has to turn romantic—and when done right, platonic bonds can hit harder than love stories.

But writing them well? That takes a lot of intentionally-written cues and dialogue. Here are just a few tips:

1. Establish emotional intimacy early

Platonic doesn’t mean distant. Let them see each other. Let one character be the first person the other calls when things go wrong. Show moments of vulnerability, casual care, and trust without flirty undertones. Let them have traditions, inside jokes, or quiet routines together.

2. Don’t hint at romance “just in case”

If you’re going for a purely platonic vibe, don’t toss in romantic tension as bait. It cheapens the relationship. Let them have chemistry that’s based in compatibility, not attraction. Not every deep bond needs a romantic subplot. Avoid unnecessary lingering glances or “almost touch” moments unless it’s 100% platonic context (e.g., comforting after a trauma).

3. Give them shared history or shared growth

Platonic duos feel real when we see how they’ve been through things together. Maybe they survived something. Maybe they just grew up side by side. What matters is that their connection isn’t shallow. Flashbacks, casual references to “remember when,” or unspoken teamwork go a long way.

4. Let them be physically close without it meaning more

One character leaning on the other’s shoulder. Braiding hair. Holding hands in a high-stress moment. All of this can be platonic when framed right. Normalize physical affection without romantic framing. You could show how each character interprets the touch. If it’s comfort or instinct—not attraction—it’s platonic.

5. Use other characters to reinforce it

Have others in the story acknowledge the bond without assuming it’s romantic. It helps the reader accept it as non-romantic, too. Maybe someone can say, “You two are like siblings” or “You always have each other’s back.” Reinforce the type of love.

6. Give them conflict—but let them choose each other

Don’t make it perfect. Platonic love, like any bond, includes disagreement. But when they still come through for each other, that’s what makes it powerful. Maybe one apologizes without ego. The other forgives without resentment. That’s platonic strength.

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Platonic relationships aren’t the backup to romance—they’re their own kind of energy. They don’t need to be slow-burn romances in disguise. Let them be bold, soft, loud, or quiet—but most of all, real. Because at the end of the day, platonic love deserves to be written with the same depth, stakes, and tenderness as any love story.

Avoiding Plot Holes by Seeding Doubt

Having an “expert” character conveniently fuck up right when the plot needs it to happen, when they otherwise would never, always loudly looks like the hand of the author sabotaging things. Which is exactly what’s happening.

However, if you set up that scene in a way where that fuckup is possible and warranted, you can turn “this is so contrived” to “omg I knew that was going to happen”.

Some suggestions!

Firstly, if we’re dealing with humans, humans are not machines. Variability in skill even at the expert level happens. Go watch the Olympics or any professional sporting event and people have terrible days all the time.

In fiction, a conveniently terrible day because that’s just how this works doesn’t fly. Diablos ex machinas tend to go over easier than deus ex machinas, but a character failing at a critical challenge in the narrative for no reason screws with a lot of the tension and expectations. “For no reason” takes no effort by the author to set up and pay off, and it reads as cheap.

Behavioral variables

I am a novice archer. I write expert archers. I do not write supernaturally accurate archers. From the very beginning of my story, my expert, with four centuries of experience, isn’t nailing perfect kill shots with every hit. A) he doesn’t need to and B) leaving his enemy to die slowly and painfully is a low he will absolutely stoop to if he thinks it’s warranted.

He’s as good as he has to be and if he gets the job done, he doesn’t care if it’s a little messy. Him being messy and overconfident is what gets him in the end, too. If he’s trying, he’ll do better, but most of the time “eh, I got close enough, they’ll die eventually” is his mindset.

“Expert” in fiction being “this is a character who will reliably pass the challenges set up for them by the narrative”.

So if you have an “expert,” allowing them to get a little bit lazy and overconfident, or simply not think of themselves as needing to be perfect in a given situation, you allow yourself a lot of wiggle room for them to majorly fuck up.

Doesn’t work very well if I throw my archer into an archery tournament, but I haven’t done that, and I’ll get to that later.

Environmental variables

Using the archery example once again: Archery is finnicky and precision is key. So if you’ve got your archer, or any marksman, in a windy environment, they have to work that much harder to factor in the wind when setting up their shot.

If it’s rainy, or the sun’s in their face, or it’s dark, or it’s loud and they can’t focus, these things aren’t exact data points the audience is going to do the math on. Or, if they and their enemy are moving, which, in combat, is highly likely.

Physiological variables

Maybe your character didn’t get enough sleep, or they’re stressed about this moment, they’re cracking under the pressure, they’re doubting themselves, the enemy got into their head, or they’re distracted worrying about something else. Or they got drunk the night before, they ate too much or too little. They’re sick, their hands are sweaty, they’ve got a sinus headache. They’ve got cramps, or hot flashes, or earlier they pulled a muscle and it still tweaks.

These are all, once again, introducing doubt into the narrative so that, when they fuck up as the plot demands, the audience should consider “well they weren’t at their best, I believe it”.

—

The sloppy way to do this is to go, in the moment:

“But because it was windy, X missed his shot”.

Is this the first time the reader is learning that it’s windy? Pretty convenient to introduce it right as it becomes important.

Rather, establish your variable beforehand in a disconnected moment. Try to ground it to a different element, otherwise it might look like it’s being mentioned for no other reason than “this is important”. Or, if it’s environmental, bury it with the other sensory descriptors.

When establishing the scene and setting, casually mention how the wind is interacting with the characters—making their hair a mess, throwing pollen everywhere, making skirts billow, etc.

Have another character complain about this variable bothering them

Have the character instantly regret the decision they made the night before for unrelated reasons. Like, if they got drunk, now they’ve still got a headache.

Depends on the story and the audience, of course, but I personally think having the narrator explicitly call out the variable fuckery going on reads a bit hammy. I like letting the audience figure out what went wrong with the clues I give.

If the scene demands, I'll also let my characters get annoyed and upset about their shots going wrong and blaming the environment. So long as it's not "hand of the author here to tell you what went wrong" you've got options.

I wouldn’t pull this trick too many times, otherwise your “expert” ends up consistently not an expert and then their sudden success looks suspect and contrived.

If you are writing some sort of tournament where this character is deliberately setting themselves up for success and is considering all these variables… a great example I like is Todoroki vs Bakugo in My Hero Academia season 2.

Dude is an uncertain mess throughout the rest of his tournament once his “fuck you dad I’m gonna win by half-assing it” suddenly isn’t enough to beat Midoriya. He’s forced to face some Tragic Backstory and it throws him off his game—establishes doubt.

He has a string of successes once he starts taking baby steps with the other half of his powers, and in the finale, he’s up against someone where he really does have to give it his all if he wants to win. His brute force powers are up against someone who has honed his very specific and powerful abilities for a decade.

And he can’t do it.

The final fight stops being a matter of power metrics and who would win if they both were competing at their best with all the tricks in their playbook available, which is what most of the tournament had been up to this point.

Basically—it stops being a numbers game, and starts being an emotional one. If you have a character you need to fail at something, but who wouldn’t otherwise, consider shifting the battle from external to internal, so the task failure is just the catalyst for the real meat of the story: what this loss means to this person in the long run.

**Side note there are of course a ton of anime tournament fights probably better than this one, Rock Lee’s whole arc against Gaara is one of them, I just don’t remember it well enough to comment on it.

Not every reader is going to be savvy enough to go “well that’s going to be important later”. Use betas and editors to help gauge how vague or obvious your foreshadowing is.

But even if you have readers sussing out your foreshadowing: Part of the fun is figuring out how the journey will end, even if we know when and where. Otherwise tragedies and prequels wouldn’t be made.

The dramatic irony of knowing variable fuckery is at play when the character is unaware can be so fun as the audience. Horror films are kind of built on it.

List of 40 character flaws

Stubbornness, Unyielding in one's own views, even when wrong.

Impatience, Difficulty waiting for long-term results.

Self-doubt, Constant uncertainty despite evident abilities.

Quick temper, Excessive reactions to provocations.

Selfishness, Prioritizing one's own needs over others'.

Arrogance, Overestimating one's own abilities.

Trust issues, Difficulty trusting others.

Perfectionism, Setting unreachable high standards.

Fear of change, Avoiding changes.

Haunted by the past, Old mistakes or traumas influencing the present.

Jealousy, Envious of others' successes.

Laziness, Hesitant to exert effort.

Vindictiveness, Strong desire for revenge.

Prejudice, Unfair biases against others.

Shyness, Excessive timidity.

Indecisiveness, Difficulty making decisions.

Vulnerability, Overly sensitive to criticism.

Greed, Strong desire for more (money, power, etc.).

Dishonesty, Tendency to distort the truth.

Recklessness, Ignoring the consequences of one's actions.

Cynicism, Negative attitude and distrust.

Cowardice, Lack of courage in critical moments.

Hotheadedness, Quick, often thoughtless reactions.

Contentiousness, Tendency to provoke conflicts.

Forgetfulness, Difficulty remembering important details.

Kleptomania, Compulsion to steal things.

Hypochondria, Excessive concern about one's health.

Pessimism, Expecting the worst in every situation.

Narcissism, Excessive self-love.

Control freak, Inability to let go or trust others.

Tactlessness, Inability to address sensitive topics sensitively.

Hopelessness, Feeling that nothing will get better.

Dogmatism, Rigidity in one's own beliefs.

Unreliability, Inability to keep promises.

Closed-offness, Difficulty expressing emotions.

Impulsiveness, Acting without thinking.

Wounded pride, Overly sensitive to criticism of oneself.

Isolation, Tendency to withdraw from others.

𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔢𝔯

20 Compelling Positive-Negative Trait Pairs

Here are 20 positive and negative trait pairs that can create compelling character dynamics in storytelling:

1. Bravery - Recklessness: A character is courageous in the face of danger but often takes unnecessary risks.

2. Intelligence - Arrogance: A character is exceptionally smart but looks down on others.

3. Compassion - Naivety: A character is deeply caring but easily deceived due to their trusting nature.

4. Determination - Stubbornness: A character is persistent in their goals but unwilling to adapt or compromise.

5. Charisma - Manipulativeness: A character is charming and persuasive but often uses these traits to exploit others.

6. Resourcefulness - Opportunism: A character is adept at finding solutions but is also quick to exploit situations for personal gain.

7. Loyalty - Blind Obedience: A character is fiercely loyal but follows orders without question, even when they're wrong.

8. Optimism - Denial: A character remains hopeful in difficult times but often ignores harsh realities.

9. Humor - Inappropriateness: A character lightens the mood with jokes but often crosses the line with their humor.

10. Generosity - Lack of Boundaries: A character is giving and selfless but often neglects their own needs and well-being.

11. Patience - Passivity: A character is calm and tolerant but sometimes fails to take action when needed.

12. Wisdom - Cynicism: A character has deep understanding and insight but is often pessimistic about the world.

13. Confidence - Overconfidence: A character believes in their abilities but sometimes underestimates challenges.

14. Honesty - Bluntness: A character is truthful and straightforward but often insensitive in their delivery.

15. Self-discipline - Rigidity: A character maintains strong control over their actions but is inflexible and resistant to change.

16. Adventurousness - Impulsiveness: A character loves exploring and trying new things but often acts without thinking.

17. Empathy - Overwhelm: A character deeply understands and feels others' emotions but can become overwhelmed by them.

18. Ambition - Ruthlessness: A character is driven to achieve great things but willing to do anything, even unethical, to succeed.

19. Resilience - Emotional Detachment: A character can endure hardships without breaking but often seems emotionally distant.

20. Strategic - Calculative: A character excels at planning and foresight but can be cold and overly pragmatic in their decisions.

These pairs create complex, multi-dimensional characters that can drive rich, dynamic storytelling.

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i can't recommend Jared Pechaček's The West Passage enough - it's a strange, gorgeous fable that I've only hesitated to post about because I've struggled to convey how good it is and why you should read it. It's like being inside the the marginalia of a medieval text. it has the perplexing consistency of Alice in Wonderland and the wistful necessity of the best kind of young adult coming of age. despite its fairytale feel, there's also a real sense of grounding in the world and the material experience of its people. i cried at the end.

and the prose is lovely:

A pigeon launched itself from a courtyard, drawing her eye up to faraway Red Tower, purpled with distance, its beacon dull in the light of day. If a wind came from there, you could get a whiff of the sea. In the windless noon, white smoke from that eternal fire drifted all over the southeastern district of the palace. Much closer was lapis-domed Blue Tower, rising from a field of white plaster walls, swirling with pigeons and the bright flecks of hummingbirds who came to drink from the flowering vines that spilled down its sides.

Often, men will say something like : "Who built this world? Men! Who created everything, all the technology, the great art, the culture, our societies? Who built the roads you drive on? Men!" and feminists will respond "That's because you didn't let us work or make art!" and... that's just wrong? Why are you validating the idea that women didn't contribute anything to the world? That we didn't work? That we didn't innovate? And why are you approving the nonsense that says being a mother is not work?

Don't let men rewrite history.

Women have always worked the double shift; outside of home and inside of home.

Things Your Character Pretends to Be (But Isn’t, At Least Not Yet)

(Identity masks, coping roles, survival personas.)

The caretaker (but no one’s ever taken care of them).

The brave one (but they’re terrified all the time).

The flirt (because real intimacy is terrifying).

The funny one (because laughter hides the panic).

The overachiever (but they feel like a fraud).

The chill one (but they’re screaming inside).

The leader (but they never wanted the spotlight).

The rebel (but they just want to belong).

The calm one (but their thoughts race nonstop).

The loyal one (even when people don’t deserve it).

The loner (but they’re starving for connection).

The tough one (but they’ve never been allowed to cry).

The problem-solver (but can’t fix their own mess).

The grounded one (but they feel completely lost).

The logical one (because feeling has always gotten them hurt).

The “together” one (but they’re falling apart in secret).

The “nice” one (but they’re boiling with resentment).

The free spirit (but they crave structure).

The peacemaker (but they never say what they need).

The heartbreaker (but they’re terrified of being left first).