Inventing Characters - Where Do They Come From and How Do You Make Them Live?

 

Every writer faces the same quiet moment.

A blank page. A flicker of an idea. Perhaps a setting. Perhaps a situation. Perhaps just a mood. And then the real question rises.

Who is this about?

Inventing characters is not about assembling traits like parts in a kit. It is not about choosing hair color, profession, and a quirky habit. That might give you a silhouette, but it will not give you a person. A character becomes alive when they begin to want something, fear something, believe something - and when those internal forces start to shape their behavior.

So where do characters come from?

They come from observation first. From paying attention. The way someone hesitates before answering. The way someone laughs too loudly. The way someone avoids eye contact when a particular subject arises. Real people are inconsistent, contradictory, vulnerable, proud, tender, stubborn. Fictional characters must feel the same.

But observation alone is not invention. It is raw material.

The process of inventing a character begins when you ask a more deliberate question. What does this person want? Not in life generally. Not in philosophical terms. What do they want at the start of this story?

This is the foundation.

You may begin with an image - a woman standing at a train station at midnight. Fine. Now ask why she is there. Is she running away? Waiting for someone? Saying goodbye? The answer immediately begins to shape her.

Or you may begin with a role - a detective, a teacher, a retired athlete. But a role is not a character. Ask what that detective fears losing. What that teacher resents. What that athlete regrets. The moment you move from label to desire, you begin inventing rather than decorating.

A practical way to start is this. Write a single sentence: “This is a story about someone who wants…” Complete it without hedging. Make it specific. Make it active. Then build outward.

Once you know what they want, ask why they want it so intensely. This takes you into backstory, but not as biography for its own sake. You are looking for formative belief. What happened that made them decide this goal matters? What did they learn early that still governs them?

Characters are not defined by what happened to them. They are defined by the meaning they made from what happened.

A man who was humiliated publicly as a child may grow into someone who seeks admiration at all costs. A woman raised in chaos may crave stability so fiercely she resists change even when it is necessary. These connections between past and present create coherence.

But invention is not only about psychology. It is also about contrast.

Strong characters often contain contradiction. The fearless firefighter who cannot say “I love you.” The celebrated academic who feels like an impostor. The devoted parent who secretly longs for freedom. Contradiction makes them human.

When inventing a character, identify one dominant trait. Then ask how that trait might also create difficulty. Ambition leads to achievement, but also neglect. Compassion builds loyalty, but invites exploitation. Independence fosters strength, but breeds isolation.

Now your character has tension built into their personality.

Another useful step in the process is to place your character under mild pressure immediately. Before outlining the entire plot, imagine a small scene in which they must make a choice. Not a dramatic, world-ending decision. Something contained. Do they tell the truth or conceal it? Do they step forward or stay silent? Their choice reveals instinct.

Instinct is identity in motion.

As you continue inventing, consider voice. Not stylistically, but psychologically. How does this character explain themselves to themselves? What narrative do they carry about who they are? If they fail, what do they blame? If they succeed, what do they credit?

You might write a short monologue in their voice, beginning with “People think I am…” and continuing honestly. This exercise often uncovers insecurity or pride that enriches the portrait.

Remember also that characters exist in systems. Family, workplace, culture, community. No one is isolated. Inventing a character means imagining the web around them. Who supports their agenda? Who resists it? Who misunderstands it? Relationships sharpen individuality.

You do not need to know everything before you begin writing. In fact, over-planning can suffocate spontaneity. But you must know enough to make consistent choices. If you understand what your character wants and what they believe about the world, you can place them in any situation and predict how they will respond.

That predictability is not dullness. It is coherence.

Sometimes characters surprise you. They act in ways you did not outline. That is not magic. It is the result of internal logic becoming clear. If the action aligns with what you know of their agenda and belief, follow it. If it contradicts everything established, reconsider.

Invention is a balance between design and discovery.

Avoid the temptation to make your protagonist flawless. Flawlessness is lifeless. Give them strengths that help them pursue their goals, but also weaknesses that complicate the journey. Let their mistakes matter. Let consequences shape them.

Readers do not need perfection. They need recognition.

Finally, test your character by imagining the ending before you fully draft the beginning. Where might this person end up emotionally? How might their understanding of what they want change? You do not need every detail. You need a sense of arc. Characters become compelling when they evolve.

Inventing a character is not about creating a puppet to move through plot. It is about constructing a believable human engine that will generate plot naturally. Once desire, belief, strength, and flaw are in place, story begins to unfold almost of its own accord.

So when you face that blank page and wonder where characters come from, remember this.

They come from attention. From asking sharper questions. From identifying what someone wants badly enough to act. From understanding what shaped that wanting. From building contradiction into their core.

Do that, and your characters will not feel invented.

They will feel inevitable.

Keep Writing

Rob Parnell