Picture this: You’ve just written a scene, slaving away at your keyboard or notebook for hours, and all your characters have done exactly as you told them—hallelujah, right?
But wait—something feels… wrong. The scene feels flat—worse, it feels like it’s happened before. Your problem could, of course, be the plot; maybe the scene really has happened before. But, barring that—are your characters flat?
Flat characters are the bane of every writer’s existence, especially writers who rely heavily on character-driven stories. These are stories that revolve around characters who are fully fleshed out as living, breathing, decision-making human beings to keep things rolling. (I have a whole post on character-driven stories here.) Flat characters crush these stories into teeny-tiny pieces that fly off into the night in a gust of smoke while dramatically sobbing, “I could have been so much moooooooore!“
On a more serious note, flat characters often appear fully developed to the writer, smiling up at them through their character charts detailing everything from height to fatal flaw to favorite kind of pie. However, while these characters look good on paper, not enough of those details are present within the story to flesh them out as decision-making and influential characters.
Sometimes, flat characters play tricks on unsuspecting writers. They make a decision—once. Then they keep making that decision until the book ends or they die, whichever comes first.
Below, I’ve listed five common types of flat female leads (don’t worry, I’ve covered male leads right here), including why they’re flat and possible ways to fix them. This is by no means a comprehensive list, but identifying flat characters is the first step to getting your story back on track. With some analysis and work (and a blessing from Muse Calliope), your scenes will spring back to life in no time.
1. The Mary Sue
Most of us are familiar with the term “Mary Sue,” so I’ll be brief. A Mary Sue character is one to whom no trouble comes. Everyone likes her, she learns how to do things very quickly, she is always at ease, yadda yadda yadda… You get the gist.
Why she’s flat:
Mary Sue characters are usually easy to spot as a reader, but sometimes it can be hard to determine whether you’ve created one. This is because people who plot their novels in advance (like me) tend to give each character a history or background that occurs before the beginning of the novel.
Unfortunately, not all of this background—in fact, very little of it—tends to make it into the novel itself, meaning all of the horrors your Mary Sue faced growing up mean very little to the reader. Without properly traumatizing your character during the novel itself, the reader doesn’t actually see her grow and evolve—as a result, she doesn’t have an arc during the book itself. She falls flat.
How to fix her:
Fortunately, the fix for a Mary Sue is simple: pain, and lots of it. She’s good at swordplay? Pit her against a swordfighter who’s been training their entire life for this exact moment, someone who will hurt Mary Sue at the slightest misstep—and then make her trip. Is Mary Sue smart? Give her a problem she can’t solve, and make her swallow her pride and ask for help.
Not only is hurting your characters great fun (No? Just me? Fine, I’ll sit over in the corner with the other sadistic writers), but getting hurt—whether it’s physically or emotionally—teaches your character something new. Getting hurt is how people, fictional characters included, grow. A hurt character is a three-dimensional one. A hurt character makes tough choices. A hurt character drives the plot.
2. The Broody McBroodenstein
The perpetually broody, jaded female lead tends to be more popular in dystopian fiction and is usually already established as a leader. Other times, she’s an antagonist or villain. Regardless, the brooding character is bitter and hateful and scorns the hopeful main characters she meets. She chastises them for believing the world can be a good place, since it clearly has not been kind to her.
Why she’s flat:
Broody McBroodensteins are the inverse of Mary Sues; they’ve experienced too much hardship, and as a result, their spirits are broken and they refuse to learn and grow when more trouble comes their way. Broody has been there, suffered through that, and has given up hope. If there’s no hope in a story—or even in a single scene—of things getting better, then there’s no point in reading about it. Nothing changes. The scene falls flat.
How to fix her:
You don’t have to lessen a Broody McBroodenstein’s suffering to keep her from becoming flat—just make sure she doesn’t have a closed mind. If you’ll pardon a movie reference (thar be spoilers):
At the beginning of the first How to Train Your Dragon movie, Astrid rules the roost among the teenagers on Berk, and is frequently seen sharpening her axe and speaking as though there is nothing more to life than killing dragons—and to her, at that point, there isn’t. Killing dragons is her life, her parents’ lives, and the reason why she trains to fight dragons even if it means having to deal with Hiccup.
However, after meeting Toothless and hearing Hiccup’s side of things, Astrid’s outlook begins to change. It doesn’t happen right away—she is still upset when Hiccup refuses to tell his father the location of the dragons’ nest—but slowly, Astrid learns to work with dragons instead of fighting them, growing to understand them. She begins to hope for a world in which dragons and Vikings can live harmoniously, and fights to make that a reality.
(My apologies for the spoilers, but really, the movie came out back in 2010. If you haven’t seen it by now, go watch it; it’s absolutely golden.)
Just as Astrid gradually changes her outlook and begins to hope for a more peaceful future, your Broody needs to learn something, too. Make her change, make her grow, make her choose to be better. A character who chooses to change is a character who actively affects change—she is no longer a flat character.
3. The Absentee
Ah, the absentee female character. This is the one who never actually appears in the story; she only affects your protagonist from afar.
Maybe she’s the emotionally abusive mother who ruined your protagonist’s ability to love—except, of course, the reader never hears exactly how she was abusive, only that she was. Maybe she was killed early on in the plotline to spur the protagonist into action (I’m looking at you, Supernatural season one. Jess deserved better).
No matter what she did or didn’t do, she doesn’t actively affect the progression of the plot, even though she’s portrayed as being highly influential. This, my friends, is a flat character.
Why she’s flat:
The absentee is one of the most obviously flat characters around, because she’s not in any of the scenes she affects. If she’s not an active player on your story’s stage, there’s no way for her to learn anything or grow. She’s a cardboard cutout, a card for the writer to play when the protagonist’s motivations become unclear. She’s more cop-out than character.
How to fix her:
You don’t have to unrealistically keep a character alive or involved to prevent her from feeling flat. By using the main character’s memories (or even flashbacks, if you want to get fancy and do some serious research PLEASE), you can demonstrate the influence the Absentee had on them without her ever really being present when the story takes place.
Talk about how she interacted with the main character, what she taught them—and remember, this is where show, don’t tell comes into play. Don’t tell us she was abusive; show us the main character’s memories of being abused. Don’t tell us she was a wonderful person and worth avenging; give us glimpses of her amazingness, show her dragging the main character to help in soup kitchens or pick up highway litter. By showing the reader how the Absentee affected the main character’s actions, you explain why she is important and worth being in the story.
And, above all—give her flaws. Give her reasons to grow. Even if she was killed or otherwise removed from the narrative before she had a chance to complete her character arc, show her working towards that. As I’ve been saying this whole time: growth = change = no longer a flat character.
4. The Men’s Lady
You’ve heard of a ladies’ man, but have you heard of—or accidentally created—a men’s lady? This character is more often found, in my experience, in TV shows rather than novels, but is still prevalent enough that I feel the need to write (read: complain) about her. She’ll do anything for her man—usually at the expense of the greater good. Oftentimes, scenes between the men’s lady and her chosen beau crowd the story and start to get in the way of the progression of the actual plot.
Why she’s flat:
Of all the character archetypes on this list, the men’s lady is the least flat—she has a clear motivation, at least—but she’s still a problematic character who keeps the story at a standstill. Like our friend Broody, the men’s lady refuses to acknowledge a certain aspect of life—in her case, that any life exists outside of the one that she shares with Prince Charming. As a result, she makes the same choices again and again.
We all know that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results, yes? Well, if you have a men’s lady as one of your female leads, your audience might think it would be insane to keep reading, since they already know what your character(s) will do at every twist and turn. Again, no new choices means no character growth, and that makes for a flat character.
How to fix her:
Part of the allure of a character-driven story is that the characters have complex motivations and conflicting desires, and your female lead is no exception. Make sure that she’s fighting for something (whether it be a physical fight, a battle of wits, or some other challenge that didn’t come straight out of The Princess Bride) bigger than herself.
Making a character act selfishly is great for establishing character flaws, but if she never learns the error of her ways—or at least, never tones down the selfishness a bit—reading about her will get old, fast. A character can be in love and still fight for something greater than her desire to be with her One True Love; common motivations include the safety of a sibling or the fate of the world, but please feel free to spice it up as you see fit. Think outside the box.
In my opinion, Susan Ee does a great job of portraying a motivation greater than romance in her Penryn & the End of Days series. Throughout the trilogy, there’s some serious romantic tension between Penryn and the male lead, Raffe. Through it all, though, Penryn’s focus is always on keeping her family together—more specifically, keeping her little sister safe—and protecting the remaining humans around her. In fact, this causes some tension with Raffe, as his loyalties lie elsewhere, which just goes to show that keeping your female lead from becoming a men’s lady can spectacularly ratchet up the tension in your subplots as well.
5. The “Strong, Independent Woman”
There are strong, independent women, and then there are Strong, Independent Women. The latter are the women who are portrayed as total BAMFs—powerful, gorgeous, and out for blood—without truly playing a meaningful part in the story. A Strong, Independent Woman’s backstory is set up flawlessly, and she is perfectly poised to be a full, complex person. She’s a great character… if you don’t count the fact that, in practice, she could be replaced with a sexy lamp.
For those of you who aren’t aware, the Sexy Lamp Test (it’s a real thing—unlike my characters, I didn’t make it up) is a way to tell how influential a character really is when it comes to affecting the plot, or even appearing in the story. Unlike the Absentee, the Strong, Independent Woman is a regularly appearing character in the story—she just doesn’t do anything. For all the reader cares, she could be replaced with the sexy lamp from A Christmas Story and the plot would barely change.
Why she’s flat:
Strong, Independent Women are like Mary Sues in that most of their agency lies in their backstories. They are fully present in the past, but barely present at all in the current story, existing more to fill the role than actually do anything to affect the plot or interact with other characters. Strong, Independent Women don’t grow or change—after all, it’s hard to be dynamic when your personality doesn’t exist.
How to fix her:
First, ask yourself if this character really needs to be in the story in the first place. I’m all for representing women of all shapes and sizes and colors and backgrounds, but if your female lead only exists the way she does because you’re trying to meet some kind of representation quota, it might be time to cut the character entirely and hand off some of her more interesting traits to a character who’s actually an influential player.
That said, if your Strong, Independent Woman really does need to be in the story, give her a bigger role to play. (A tragic backstory and supple catsuit do not a complete character make.)
Maybe she has skills that will be vital on your characters’ quest—if so, show her actually using them throughout the story, not just at the climax. Maybe she’s the emotional support linchpin holding your group together—what does she do when plans go awry and everyone has to regroup? How does she interact with the other characters? What do they love about her, and what do they hate about her? Giving her some agency in the present and building her relationships with other characters will go a long way toward fleshing her out and creating a full, unique individual who makes unique decisions.
Does your WIP have any of these leading ladies? Have you read a work of fiction that had one, or that dealt with the problem gracefully to present a set of fully developed characters? Feel free to share in the comments below—I’d love to hear from you. And, as always, happy writing!
