Why I Don’t Write “Nice” Characters

Flawed people, bad decisions, and the thin line between survival and sin.

People sometimes ask why my characters aren’t nicer.

Why they have trouble “doing the right thing.”Why they don’t behave better. Why they don’t make wholesome choices that lead to tidy resolutions.

I always smile a little, because the answer is simple:

Nice people lie. Especially to themselves.

The human animal is not infallible.

And right is relative. Person A’s right might be Person B’s wrong.

I’m fascinated by a simple scenario: ordinary people, living ordinary lives, who find themselves trapped in extraordinary (or dreadful) circumstances. Oh my, the possibilities are endless—and I adore watching what they do.

The characters I write don’t have the luxury of pretending the world is a kind, gentle, supportive place. They don’t get to stay soft. They don’t get to float through life without scars or consequences. There is no Tao in my universe. So they damn sure don’t get rescued by the universe at the last minute.

I grew up in a place where people survived because they did. There was no other choice. They were tough, stubborn, loyal, flawed, and occasionally mean as hell. Not cartoon-mean —real-world mean. The kind born of heartbreak, pressure, desperation, or that deep-boned instinct to protect what’s theirs. Maybe even few or no other choice on the table.

Those are the people I know. Those are the people I write.

Why “Nice” Is a Performance

“Nice” is the mask. “Nice” is the personality folks wear to keep the peace at church, at work, in the Food Lion checkout line.

But real character? That shows up when life squeezes hard enough to pop the mask clean off.

I’ve seen people do awful things for reasons that made sense at the time.And I’ve seen people do the right thing when nobody deserved it — not because they were saints, but because their moral compass was welded together from family, belief, land, culture, and pain.

That’s the kind of tension I write. People pushed so far into a corner they stop caring about being liked and start caring about survival.

Good Isn’t Soft — It’s Expensive

In Southern noir, “good” doesn’t float around wearing a halo. Good takes hits. Good bleeds. Good makes ugly choices.

My characters don’t get clean morals because the world really doesn’t hand those out like party favors. Not where I’m from. Not in the mountains and hollows that shaped me.

Survival and sin are two sides of the fence line.

Sometimes the only difference between a hero and a villainis how much they can live with afterward.

Flawed People Are Honest

Perfect characters bore me to death. I want the ones who:

• love the wrong person

• tell the truth too late (or not at all)

• fight dirty when the stakes get personal

• forgive the unforgivable

• carry guilt they can’t set down

• do the right thing one day and burn a bridge the next

• hurt the people they’re trying to protect

• protect the people they should’ve walked away from

That’s human.That’s story. That’s Southern noir.

If a character is flawless, polished, and morally pure?

I don’t trust them.

People Don’t Break Clean

In every book I write, every character — good, bad, or stuck living in-between — is shaped by something real.

A history. A wound. A loyalty. A lie. A secret they prayed nobody would uncover. A choice they made at seventeen that they’re still paying for at forty-five.

People don’t break clean. They crack sideways, leaving jagged edges and splinters flying in directions nobody expects.

That’s why I don’t write “nice.” Nice is too smooth. Too polished. Too fake. Too simple.

I write the ragged edges.

Why This Matters for My Stories

Because when a character is allowed to be selfish, scared, stubborn, complicated, or downright reckless — they feel real.

And when they feel real, their decisions hit harder. Consequences matter more.Victories feel earned. Failures have weight. Relationships cut deep.

That’s why my characters aren’t nice. They’re human. Human in the way that makes you wince a little, nod a little, and say,“Yeah… I know someone like that.”

Maybe even,“I’ve BEEN there.”

The Wrap

If you’re here for neat morals and tidy behavior, well – sorry about that. But if you want the truth — the messy, flawed, human kind — stick around.

We have a lot to talk about.