When I build character arcs, I usually start out with some nutty thing that happens to them. But then, I think about all the little internal shifts that make a character feel human. Realistic arcs are all about how a person grows through their challenges, ridiculous as I try to make them. They’re about peeling back the layers of fear, habit, and self‑protection that keep a character from living fully.
I always begin with a simple question: Who is this character at the start of the story, and what do they believe about themselves? That belief — often shaped by a wound or past experience — becomes the foundation of their arc. Maybe they think they’re unworthy of love. Maybe they believe they have to be perfect to be accepted. Maybe they’re convinced they’re safer alone, like Tara from Exactly What It Looks Like (coming in June 2026), who has an abandonment wound. Whatever the belief is, it shapes how they move through the world.
From there, I identify the character’s protective behavior. This is the habit they’ve developed to keep themselves safe. It might be overworking, avoiding conflict, staying emotionally distant, or always putting others first. These behaviors are the survival strategies that the characters themselves might even see as flaws. And that’s what makes them so compelling.
Next, I create moments that challenge the old story. These moments don’t have to be dramatic. In fact, the most powerful ones are often subtle, like a conversation that hits too close to home, a moment of unexpected kindness, a situation that forces the character to confront something they’ve been avoiding. Each moment nudges the character toward growth with all its ups and downs, the messy middle.
Tara goes through all of this while she’s in Hawaii on her quest. She believes that she could never stack up and that might be why her dad left so long ago. She starts to see him from a different light over the course of her trip, and that in turn, helps her see herself differently too. It helps her live more vibrrantly.
As any story progresses, the character begins to see the possibility of a different way of being. They start making small choices that align with who they want to become. These choices accumulate until the character reaches a moment of truth, where they must decide whether to cling to the old story or step into the new one.
The most powerful arcs end with a choice, not a personality transplant. The character chooses vulnerability over fear, connection over isolation, honesty over avoidance. They choose to believe something new about themselves. Realistic character arcs honor the complexity of being human. They’re not about perfection — they’re about possibility. And that’s what makes them resonate.
And in Tara’s story, she chooses connection, the magic in the small things, and to meet others halfway. I so want to ruin the story and tell you everything that happens, because I love how the ending came together, but you’ll just have to wait for the launch.