#writingstruggles

open document

write two sentences

stare into space for ten minutes

google something unrelated

suddenly have a brilliant idea at 1:42 a.m.

Good literature is a good observation of one's surroundings. Of the people around you and events that take place within your society.

Hemingway argues a fundamental point when creating characters that feel 'alive. ' It's not about what you want (as a writer) or where the story must go; it's about what the characters (people) would do if they truly existed at that moment.

Hemingway continues:

"A character is a caricature. If a writer can make people live, there may be no great characters in his book, but it is possible that his book will remain as a whole; as an entity; as a novel."

Hemingway emphasizes the importance of having people in your story, rather than characters, criticizing the latter as caricatured and exaggerated. He says: "If the people the writer is making talk of old masters; of music; of modern painting; of letters; or of science then they should talk of those subjects in the novel. If they do not talk of those subjects and the writer makes them talk of them he is a faker, and if he talks about them himself to show how much he knows then he is showing off."

Hemingway says your character shouldn't be a doll and you, the master. They should express themselves the way they want to. If you force it, you're faking it and risk creating a one-dimensional character. If a writer goes on and on about the character because he knows more than the reader, he's showboating his pretension and nothing else.

"No matter how good a phrase or a simile he may have if he puts it in where it is not absolutely necessary and irreplaceable he is spoiling his work for egotism."

He ends with:

Sometimes it’s not the plot. Not the grammar. Not even the characters.

It’s that quiet feeling that something isn’t landing the way you hoped.

You reread a scene five times. You tweak a sentence, then another. You start wondering if you’ve lost the spark that made you start writing in the first place.

You haven’t.

Most writers hit that point where they’re too close to their own work to see it clearly anymore. It’s like trying to spot a typo in a word you’ve stared at for hours; it just blends in.

And that’s frustrating. Not because the story is bad, but because you care about getting it right.

Sometimes, what you really need isn’t more rewriting. It’s a fresh pair of eyes that can gently point out what’s already working… and what’s quietly holding the story back.

OH! Hi, welcome to my blog! I’m your favorite (you either love me or hate me) AWG. Today, we’re diving into ⭐BLACK CHARACTERS⭐—and no, I’m not talking about those one-dimensional characters just there for the urban memes. I mean the real deal: complex, rich, main characters that pack a punch!

As a Black writer myself, I’ll be honest—I sometimes struggle with crafting Black characters, whether they’re main leads or supporting roles. Why? Because every Black person has a different story. Believe it or not, not every Black man or woman has experienced the same tropes we see in the media. So how do we go about developing a powerful Black character or even a minor role that’s still refreshing and relatable? Let’s find out together!

𝐀𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐨𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐬: 𝐋𝐞𝐭’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐆𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞!

When it comes to writing Black characters, let’s talk about the elephant in the room: stereotypes. You know, those tired clichés that pop up in movies and books like an unwanted party guest who just won’t leave.

First off, let’s acknowledge that not every Black character needs to fit into a box labeled “Gangster,” “Sassy Best Friend,” or “Magical Negro.” (Yes, I see you, Hollywood!) Every character deserves depth, complexity, and a unique backstory.

define: Magical Negro is a Black character who exists to help a white protagonist, often with supernatural powers. Example: John Coffey in The Green Mile.

Research, Research, Research! I can’t stress this enough. Dive deep into the experiences of real Black individuals, because every Black person has a different backstory! Personally, I haven’t experienced many of the challenges Black Americans face, like systemic racism, and it’s crucial to acknowledge that diversity. Understanding these nuances will help you create more authentic characters.

Ask Questions. Got a Black friend? (If you don’t, get one—kidding!) Use your network. Ask them about their experiences, perspectives, and how they feel represented in media. Just don’t be that person who asks, “So, do you like fried chicken?” It’s not cute.

Embrace Diversity Within Diversity. Not all Black characters should be from the same background. Explore different cultures, regions, and histories. There are a billion ways to be Black, so show that in your characters!

𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞: 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤

Now, let’s talk about dialogue—because if your characters sound like awkward robots, people will notice! When writing Black characters, remember that language is a huge part of identity. African American Vernacular English (AAVE) is a beautiful, expressive part of Black culture, but it needs to be used authentically and respectfully.

Personally, as a Black Jamaican, this is how I talk “proper.” I don’t use Patwa (Patois) in my dialogue when I’m writing Black American characters because, like I said before, Black culture varies. Just as I speak differently from a Black American, your characters should reflect the diversity of the Black experience. One-size-fits-all doesn’t apply here!

For example, a natural-sounding conversation between Black American friends might go like this:

Authentic: “Yo, you tryna head to the spot later?” “Bet, I’m down. Lemme hit you up after work.”

This sounds natural and reflects everyday speech without exaggeration. Now compare this with a stereotype that overuses slang and makes the character seem like a caricature:

Stereotyped: “Yo, dawg, we finna roll up in this joint, ya feel me? Straight fire!”

See the difference? One feels like a real conversation, while the other feels forced and unnatural.

Another Example: In a professional setting, you might have a character saying:

Authentic: “I’ll follow up on that report and get back to you by end of day.”

If you force casual AAVE where it doesn’t fit, it feels unnatural, like this:

Stereotyped: “Yo, I’ma hit you with that report later, aight?”

𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬: 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞/𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐫

Alright, let’s get into it! Crafting rich, layered backstories for your Black characters is where the magic happens. After all, they’re not just defined by their race; they come with a whole buffet of experiences, cultures, and dreams!

Cultural Heritage: Dive into your character's cultural background! If your character is Caribbean, like a sassy Jamaican or a vibrant Trinidadian, think about how family traditions and spicy food shape their identity. Maybe they celebrate Carnival with a flair that leaves everyone in awe, or they bring a bit of reggae to the school dance. Spice it up!

Family Dynamics: What’s the family vibe like? Is it a tight-knit crew where everyone knows everyone’s business, or is it a mixed bag of characters with their quirks? Picture a character raised by their wise grandma, who drops truth bombs about resilience while whipping up the best curry chicken in town. Those family stories can really shape who they are!

Personal Experiences: Let’s keep it real—your character’s experiences should be as unique as their favorite playlist! Maybe they faced challenges at school that made them a champion for anti-bullying or excelled in sports, turning their setbacks into comebacks. For example, they might have been teased for their skin tone, but that just made them more determined to lift others up.

Aspirations and Dreams: What gets your character out of bed in the morning? Whether they dream of becoming a doctor, an artist, or the next big YouTube sensation, their aspirations tell a story! Imagine a character who, inspired by their community’s struggles with healthcare access, aims to break barriers in medicine. Talk about a hero!

𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞: 𝐔𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐏𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧

Alright, folks, let’s get real for a minute. We need to address a serious issue in storytelling: the unfortunate trend of making Black characters the butt of jokes to uplift white main characters. Spoiler alert: this is not cute, and it definitely doesn’t fly in a respectful narrative!

First off, humor is a powerful tool in writing, but it shouldn’t come at the expense of marginalized characters. When Black characters are used as punchlines or comic relief just to highlight the “funny” qualities of a white protagonist, it reduces their complexity and humanity. It perpetuates harmful stereotypes and misses the chance to create authentic, well-rounded individuals.

Example —

From “The Office” (U.S.): don't get me wrong I LOVE The Office, its my comfort show, however, In the episode titled “Diversity Day,” Michael Scott leads a diversity training session that reduces a Black character, Stanley, to a series of racial stereotypes. The humor in this scene relies heavily on racial caricatures, and Stanley is the butt of the joke, highlighting a lack of respect for his character. Michael’s antics, while intended to be funny, diminish Stanley’s complexity and reduce him to a stereotype for the amusement of the white characters.

𝐑𝐞𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬: 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩

Books —

"Writing the Other: A Practical Guide" by Nisi Shawl and Cynthia Ward - A guide to writing characters outside your own experience with sensitivity and depth.

"The Art of Character: Creating Memorable Characters for Fiction, Film, and TV" by David Corbett - Offers insights on developing authentic characters.

"Diversity in Young Adult Literature" by various authors - A collection of essays discussing representation in YA literature.

Articles —

“Avoiding Stereotypes in Fiction: People of Color”

“Writing Characters of Color: How to Avoid Being Racist” - Vanessa Willoughby’s article on Book Riot 

“American Fiction: Scathing and Accurate Portrayal of the Obstacles Black Writers Face in Publishing” -  

𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐟𝐟: 𝐀𝐇, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐈𝐓!

Thank you so much for reading this post! To all my fellow Black writers out there, I invite you to drop your comments below—let me know if there's anything I've missed or misled. Remember, even though I strive for perfection (tehehe), I’m not above making mistakes!

I can’t wait to see all the vibrant, fully-realized Black characters you’ll bring to life in your stories. Together, let’s make sure our voices shine and our narratives resonate. Happy writing, and until next time, keep slaying those words!

you keep rewriting that one scene

not because it’s bad

but because you can’t see it anymore

you’ve read it too many times

felt it too many ways

you’re not fixing it

Writer’s block feels like standing at the edge of a vast ocean with no way to cross. You stare at the page, you prod at it, and it just stares back, blank and unyielding. The temptation is to call yourself broken, to assume you’ve “lost it” or that the words have abandoned you. But here’s the truth that I have learned over decades of writing. Writer’s block isn’t failure. It’s part of the process. It’s your creative mind processing, rewiring, and demanding silence so it can do the work behind the curtain. Think of it as winter. The trees look dead, but they’re storing energy, preparing for spring.

Instead of panicking, lean into the block. Don’t treat it like an enemy. Treat it like weather. Weather shifts. Some days are storm, some days are drought, and some days you get rain that waters the seeds you forgot you planted.

In the meantime, you don’t need to stop being a writer just because you aren’t producing sentences. Reading, daydreaming, scribbling down nonsense, people-watching, and even playing games feeds the compost heap of creativity. When the words return, they’ll draw nourishment from everything you’ve let yourself absorb.

Stop measuring your worth in word counts. The internet makes it easy to believe that “real writers” churn out 2k a day without blinking, but that’s fiction in itself. Writing is art, not factory work. A paragraph born from three weeks of quiet reflection can be more powerful than a novel rushed out in three months. Your brain is still working. Your subconscious is still writing. Just because you can’t hear the keys clacking doesn’t mean the story isn’t growing.

There are chapters that flow so easily I hardly they're getting to the resolution and suddenly they're finished. And then there are the others—the stubborn ones—that resist me at every turn. They feel endless, like walls that refuse to let me through. I sit at my desk, I return to the page, and I have more and more things to tell, more twists and turns to go around, more explanations to do, more details to include.

Finishing one of those chapters feels like climbing a mountain I wasn’t sure I could survive. There is exhaustion, of course, but also a rush of triumph that no one else can quite measure. Only I know how many hours were spent writing and rewriting, how many doubts crept in, how many times I had to stop because writing time was running out.

When the final line finally falls into place, it feels like exhaling after holding my breath for days. And in that release, I remember why I write: the characters have lived through something and I have lived through it (and suffered) with them.

Every difficult chapter leaves me stronger for the next. And every time I close one, I know I have carried a piece of myself across the threshold. That, more than anything, is the quiet victory of writing.