Built from the Inside Out: Creating Characters that Drive Story
- Ginette Guy Mayer
- Oct 13
- 7 min read

Adapted from my workshop presented at the Eastern Ontario Writers’ Festival, Casselman, Sep 2025
What comes first—the plot or the character?
It’s the question writers ask me most often, and my reply is always the same: it depends. Sometimes the story begins with a “what if” idea that keeps you awake at night. Other times, it starts with a character who won’t stop talking in your head until you begin writing. Either way, the most memorable stories, across every genre, are those constructed from the inside out. If you’re planning a series, the readers will return for your characters—the ones they come to know and love with each new book.
When your characters feel authentic and alive, they don’t just fit into a plot; they create it. They draw readers in, make them care, and keep them turning pages well past bedtime. Readers not only want to see the action and the plot but also become curious about what happens in your characters’ lives. It's like they're catching up with old friends.
This post draws from the workshop I presented at the Eastern Ontario Writers’ Festival in Casselman. Whether you’re writing mystery, romance, fantasy, or historical fiction, your readers don’t fall in love with what happens—they fall in love with who it happens to.
Plot-Driven vs. Character-Driven—and Why It Matters
Every story has both plot and character, but one usually takes the lead.
External events, such as the ticking clock of a thriller, the chase in a crime novel, or the quest in an adventure tale, propel plot-driven stories—the reader races to find out what happens next.
Character-driven stories focus on inner transformation. The reader turns pages to discover who this person becomes as events unfold.
Think of it like this:
In a plot-driven mystery, the main question might be Who killed the victim?
In a character-driven mystery, it might be How does solving this case change the detective?
Even in the most fast-paced thriller or romance, characters make the choices that keep the story moving. And even in the most introspective literary novel, something has to happen to reveal that inner change.
The best stories blend both external events that challenge characters to evolve and internal struggles that give meaning to the plot.
In my own mysteries featuring Detective Sergeant Henry Stafford, the crime sets the stage, but it’s his quiet persistence, his loyalty, and his subtle humour that make readers care about the outcome. In my romance stories, the tension isn’t just will they or won’t they…it’s how will these two people change each other?
When we understand what drives our characters—fear, ambition, love, or guilt—the plot naturally falls into place.
Building Authentic Characters
Strong characters are built, not born. The secret isn’t about giving them perfect backstories or clever quirks; it’s about understanding their why.
Here are the building blocks I often share with my workshop groups:
Backstory: What shaped them before page one? A character’s history gives depth to their present decisions.
Goals: What do they want, and why now? Desire creates motion.
Flaws and fears: What’s holding them back? The more human they feel, the more relatable they become.
Voice: How do they see and describe the world? This defines tone and perspective.
A helpful exercise is to ask yourself:
“What does my character believe about themselves that isn’t true?”
That question often uncovers the heart of a story.
For example, a character who believes they’re unworthy of love may push others away. In a mystery, that flaw could cause them to overlook an ally; in a romance, it might stop them from admitting their feelings. Either way, the plot evolves through their choices.
Backstory matters, but it has to be relevant and drive the story forward. Characters, like you and me, need to be multifaceted. It’s there to explain why they react as they do when pressure builds.
Characters, although fictional, do not sit on a shelf waiting to be called as main characters. When we open the book, the characters are already busy being themselves. That means having a life before the plot involves them.
When developing a new character, it might help to start a ‘character bible’, a place where you note the important things about that character. There is no need to put too much emphasis on build, hair colour and physical features. Brief info is good in establishing the character, but the reader can add to it with their own imagination. Remember that when you write the characters belong to you, once it’s out there, the characters belong to the reader.
Certain aspects are more crucial to the character's role in the story's development, such as their speech rhythms, fears, humour, and grudges, which reveal their true nature.
And remember: contradictions are your friend. Perfect characters are forgettable. Real people are messy. A strong, independent woman might.
Writing Across Difference
One of the most rewarding, and sometimes daunting, parts of writing is creating characters whose lives differ from our own. Maybe they come from another culture, gender identity, generation, or lived experience.
The key is respect and empathy.
Start by listening. Read books, blogs, and essays by people within those communities. Please pay attention to nuance; what insiders say about themselves is often very different from what outsiders assume.
Then, research deeply. It’s not just about getting the surface details right (food, language, clothing) but understanding why those details matter.
And finally, see individuals, not symbols. Your character isn’t there to represent a group; they’re a whole human being with contradictions, humour, and complexity.
In my historical fiction and mysteries set in places like Cornwall or 1930s Montreal, I’ve often written characters from different backgrounds and time periods. My goal isn’t to “get it perfect” but to approach every story with curiosity and humility. When writers write from empathy, readers can feel the honesty. And remember, don’t put something in unless it is relevant to the storyline as a whole.
Using Personal Experience Without Writing About Yourself
We’ve all heard the advice, write what you know. I prefer to say: write what you feel.
I once heard a quote that stuck with me: “You don’t have to be a toaster to make toast.” So, you don’t have to be a detective to write about solving a murder. You only need to understand what it feels like to seek truth when others resist it. You don’t need to have lived a sweeping romance to capture the ache of wanting something, or someone, you can’t have.
The trick is to translate emotion, not experience.
If you’ve ever felt grief, betrayal, joy, or pride, you already have the emotional vocabulary to write about your characters’ struggles.
When a character faces a challenge, ask yourself: When have I felt something like this? Then use that memory, not the event itself, to colour you’re writing. That emotional honesty will connect with readers more than any elaborate plot twist.
Character Arcs and the Power of Change
A great story doesn’t just take readers on a journey; it takes the character on one, too.
A character arc is the emotional and psychological transformation your characters undergo. By the end, they should see the world, or themselves, differently. Every success or failure changes us.
Here’s a simple structure to keep in mind:
Set-up: Who they are and what they want.
Challenge: What stands in their way?
Choice: The moment they must decide who to be.
Change: What they’ve learned—and what it costs.
In mystery, the arc might be about confronting moral grey areas. In romance, it’s about vulnerability. In historical fiction, it might be about identity and belonging. The first book of my DS Henry Stafford Mystery starts with Henry wanting a slow Monday. He wants to solve the crime so he can return to his old routine. Of course, that drive changes along the way, as he does.
If you write a series, you have the added joy (and challenge) of letting your character evolve across multiple books. Readers love familiarity, but they also want growth. With this in mind, be aware of the time period and the age of your characters when the series starts and where you want it to end.
In my crime-noir novels, the lead character changes subtly with each case. He begins as a cynical ex-cop, but through his encounters with Lucy, with corruption, with loss, he begins to rediscover empathy. That slow evolution is what keeps long-time readers engaged.
Hooking Readers Through Empathy
Readers don’t follow perfect heroes. They follow relatable ones.
We connect to vulnerability, to moments when a character says or does the wrong thing but keeps trying anyway.
If your characters feel real, if their choices make sense for who they are, you’ll hook readers no matter the genre.
Empathy is the bridge between your imagination and your reader’s heart.
Try to see the world through your character’s eyes:
What do they fear losing?
What would they sacrifice to protect someone?
What lies do they tell themselves to get through the day?
Those answers shape the story far more than clever twists.
When readers recognize a fragment of their own struggle in your characters, they don’t just read your story—they feel it. And that feeling is what brings them back for more.
Quick Tips to Build from the Inside Out
Write a character sketch before outlining your plot. It will guide your story choices.
Ask “why” and what in their background makes them react a certain way. Each layer gets you closer to emotional truth.
Let characters surprise you. When they make unexpected but believable decisions, the story comes alive. You might have a good idea of how your plot is going to unfold, but sometimes you need to let the character show you where he or she wants to go. Don’t be afraid to follow their direction.
Don’t fear flaws. Perfect characters are forgettable; complex ones are magnetic.
Dialogue reveals personality. How a character speaks says as much as what they say.
Remember: Story grows from character decisions, not coincidences. Just as our daily encounters shape our actions and reactions, so do the interactions of your characters within your story.
The Takeaway: Characters Are the Story
When you know your characters inside and out, their fears, habits, dreams, and contradictions, you don’t have to force your plot. The story unfolds naturally, one decision at a time.
Plot gives a story bones. Character gives it a beating heart.
So the next time you sit down to write, start from the inside. Listen to your characters. Ask them what they want, what they’re hiding, and what they’re willing to risk. Then let them lead the way.
Final Thoughts
At the Eastern Ontario Writers’ Festival, I watched participants light up as they realized their characters were more than just figures on a page; they were the story’s compass.
That’s the beauty of writing from the inside out: your plot becomes a living, breathing reflection of human emotion. And those emotions —love, loss, courage, fear —are what make stories unforgettable.
Whether you write crime, romance, fantasy, or historical fiction, remember this: the most compelling plots emerge from the people who live them.
So go ahead. Build your characters from the inside out, and watch your stories come alive.




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