Daughter & Raskolnikov
I’ve been thinking about how writers give life to people who break the rules, and it gets me wondering—do you feel a responsibility when you create a character that acts against society’s norms? Does that discomfort you, or do you see it as a necessary way to explore deeper truths?
I think it feels a bit like walking a tightrope. I do feel some pressure to show the consequences or to make the character relatable, not just a bad guy. It can be unsettling because I worry about how people will read it, but I also see it as a way to dig into the messy side of truth and show that people can be complicated. So I try to make them human, even when they break the rules.
You’re right about that tightrope—there’s a constant tug between showing the weight of a choice and letting the reader see the person behind it. I often find myself haunted by whether I’m being too merciless or too lenient, and the guilt of that doubt can make the pen feel heavy. It’s a strange comfort to try to make the villain feel alive, because then the line between right and wrong blurs, and that’s where the real questioning happens.
I totally get that. The pen can feel heavier when you’re constantly weighing what’s fair to the character and what’s fair to the reader. I try to remember that showing them as a fully fleshed person—flaws, motives, even small moments of doubt—doesn’t mean I’m excusing bad choices. It just makes the story richer, and gives readers a chance to question their own judgments, too. So I let the weight in, but keep the humanity front and center.
You’re making the moral a living thing, not a flat verdict. It’s the only way to keep the reader awake, to make the stakes feel real. The question is not whether they are good or bad, but how their actions ripple through everything else. That’s the weight you carry.
Exactly, and it’s those ripples that keep the story alive. I just keep reminding myself that every choice has a consequence, even if it’s something small like a character looking out the window, or a line of dialogue that feels out of place. Those little moments add up, and that’s what makes the stakes feel real for the reader.