How to Write a Novel Like a (Fake) Psychologist: Making Characters Feel So Real, It's Unsettling
- Ria Lunawat
- Jul 3
- 5 min read
Let’s get something out of the way first:
You don’t need a psychology degree to write characters that feel human. But you do need curiosity, a little emotional nosiness, and a weird obsession with asking, "But what’s their childhood trauma?"
Whether you're writing about a small-town piano prodigy, a brooding athlete with trust issues, or a villain who only ever wanted to be loved, this is your guide to writing characters who bleed real. This isn’t about being technically correct. It’s about writing people who feel so layered, messy, and painfully relatable that your readers accidentally see themselves in them.
1. Start With the Wound, Not the Plot
Most characters don’t need wild backstories. They need emotional wounds. A wound is the one thing they believe makes them unlovable, unsafe, or doomed to be alone forever (yes, dramatic, but hey).
Ask yourself:
What lie do they believe about themselves?
Where did it come from?
How does it show up in their relationships, decisions, or avoidance techniques?
Example: A character who thinks, "I'm only valuable when I'm useful" will probably overwork, people-please, and completely panic when someone offers them love for just existing.
Why this works:
It gives your character internal stakes. Even if the external plot is about surviving a zombie apocalypse, the real journey is emotional.
Also — bonus — it sets up a glow-up. Not in the superficial, makeover montage way. In the “oh wow, they just learned how to choose themselves for once” way.
2. Use Attachment Styles Like a Sneaky Superpower
We all have a style of loving and being loved. Your characters should too. Are they avoidant and secretly yearning? Anxiously attached and texting 32 times? Secure and the rock everyone leans on?
Quick breakdown:
Secure: Emotionally available, stable, communicative. Aka unicorns.
Anxious: Needs a lot of reassurance. Will spiral if ignored.
Avoidant: Looks chill but has 900 locked doors.
Disorganized: Wants love and also wants to run away from it.
Tip: Let their style evolve. Characters grow, right? They’re not dating apps with fixed labels. Let your anxious mess slowly become confident. Let your commitment-phobe learn safety.
Think Normal People or Eleanor Oliphant. It's not about diagnosing them — it's about understanding why they’re like this.
3. Let Them Be Hypocrites. Please.
Real people contradict themselves all the time. We lie to ourselves. We say we don’t care and then care way too much. We act brave and then flinch at a text.
So let your characters do this too.
Make your feminist icon insecure about her appearance.
Let your emotionally intelligent therapist ghost someone.
Give your chill extrovert a panic attack before a party.
Characters should be like tangled necklaces — confusing, impossible to pull apart, but somehow beautiful when you sit with them.
4. Trauma Is Not an Aesthetic, It’s a Filter
If your character has been through something big (loss, abuse, betrayal), let it change the way they see the world. Not just their sob story paragraph.
Instead of saying:
"She had a rough childhood."
Show us:
She flinches when someone raises their voice.
She memorizes exits in new rooms.
She panics when she can't fix other people.
In The Song of Achilles, Patroclus isn’t just soft and kind. He’s shaped by rejection, loneliness, and deep longing. Every line feels like a ripple of that.
Important: Trauma is real. Treat it with respect. Do your research. Don’t turn pain into plot fluff.
Also? Let them heal. Not fully, maybe. But give them some light. Even if it's small.
5. Give Them Something They’ll Never Admit They Want
Your character might say, "I want to win the race." Cool. But deep down? Maybe what they really want is for someone to finally believe in them. Or to feel like they’re enough, even if they lose.
Ask:
What’s the external goal?
What’s the secret emotional goal?
What’s stopping them from admitting it (to others and themselves)?
The tension between the two? That’s your emotional engine. That’s the stuff readers stay up till 3am for.
6. Dialogue Is a Lie Detector
Want to show inner conflict? Use dialogue.
Let them say one thing while thinking another.
Let their tone betray their words.
Let them joke when they want to cry.
Think of Fleabag. Every sarcastic line is laced with grief. That’s the power of letting people speak like they’re hiding something.
Bonus points: silence. The things your character doesn’t say? Those are louder than paragraphs.
7. Give Them a Relationship That Exposes Everything
One good relationship can dig up every buried insecurity. Whether it’s a slow-burn romance, a best friend with no filter, or a rival who sees through them — make sure your character has someone who challenges their self-image.
The trick:
Don’t make this relationship perfect.
Let it be messy, tender, complicated, and real.
Use it as a mirror. And a little bit as a wrecking ball.
Think of Zuko and Iroh (Avatar: The Last Airbender). Or Elizabeth Bennet and Darcy. It's not just about love — it's about exposure, discomfort, and growth.
8. Your Character Arc Is Just Therapy With Plot
At its core, a character arc is someone learning the truth about themselves. So build it like a therapy session:
Step 1: Denial ("I’m fine, thanks.")
Step 2: Projection ("Everyone else is the problem.")
Step 3: Breakdown ("I don’t know who I am.")
Step 4: Insight ("Wait. What if I’m not broken?")
Step 5: Change ("It still hurts. But I’m showing up anyway.")
And hey, it’s okay if they don’t end up fully healed. They just need to end up a little more honest.
9. Let Setting Reflect Psyche
Want bonus depth? Use your character’s surroundings as a mirror.
Their cluttered apartment? Might match their cluttered mind.
A rainy day? Might not just be weather — might be the mood.
Don’t overdo it, but if your setting is vibing with your character’s headspace, the whole story starts to hum.
Think The Bell Jar or Norwegian Wood. You don’t just read — you feel.
Conclusion: Don’t Write Perfect. Write True.
The best characters aren’t clever. Or hot. Or heroic. They’re vulnerable. Complex. Sometimes frustrating. Sometimes soft. Always, always honest.
So next time you sit down to write, don’t ask:
"What happens in this scene?"
Ask:
"What is my character feeling that they don’t want anyone to see?"
Because when you write from that place? You don’t just tell a story. You tell the truth. And readers can always tell the difference.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ria Lunawat is an aspiring psychologist who’s most likely to be found burrowed under a blanket with a book, usually one about girls with magic wands, or playing the piano on a quiet Friday night. A lifelong resident of Pune, she’s well-acquainted with the city’s bustling crowds, traffic, heritage corners, and its endless variety of food.
She holds a deep affection for the monsoons, especially that magical moment just before the rain begins, when gray skies meet rustling leaves and everything feels quietly alive. Outside of writing, she finds joy in music, often at the piano, where years of formal training, including distinctions from Trinity College of London, continue to shape her creative expression. She believes in the power of words, rhythm, and empathy to spark connection and meaning.
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