Managing Death is released in a day or so, and I thought I’d just get something off my chest. My characters are a bit of a mess, but there’s a reason.

I’ve taught creative writing courses for a couple of years now, and one of the things that I come across quite a bit is the “perfect” character, a flawless force or presence that reacts effortlessly (and often without reflection) to the world around them. They’re usually an assassin, or a PI or a robot warrior PI Assassin. What they usually aren’t is interesting.

I like my characters to be, well … I like them flawed and messy. I like them troubled. I like them to worry about all the sort of stuff that I worry about or their equivalent: the everyday things that assault as thoroughly as any supernatural force. A good hero or heroine has to* be “human” first. When you’re writing fantasy, in which everything is heightened and weighted with myth and grandeur it’s easy to forget that it’s heightened reality (of a sort).

Philip K. Dick was the master of this. His characters were the little people, the everyday working folk, pushed just out of their comfort zones by a fickle universe. His work is so powerful because it feels so real even when it’s questioning the nature of reality itself.

In fairy stories there are plenty of tales of kings and queens and princes, yes. But there are also a fair share of tailors made good, starving peasants and merchants. People whose ordinary worlds hit the story world square on.

In my fictional universe, Steven de Selby is an RM. He’s essentially Australia’s Death. It’s a job and a responsibility that he wasn’t really looking for. Steve is a guy that’s happiest being a bit mopey, listening to music, letting his family fuss over him, and recovering from a hangover (means he had a great night out). He’s used to having no serious worries at all. But everything changed in Death Most Definite and it only gets worse in Managing Death.

But what Steven hasn’t lost is his sense of humour, his faith in those closest to him, and his desire to protect them at all costs. Steve might have more power in Managing Death, but it’s a power he can’t really control. Steve could be anyone: he has no destiny, just strength of will, compassion, luck, love, and a determination to survive. He’s also self-involved, puts things off, and wishes that he was more capable than he is.

Yes, he’s far from perfect, and that’s why I like writing about him.

I remember the moment I first fell a little bit in love with my wife-to-be (even before we started dating) was seeing her almost back her mum’s car into a telephone pole, gears crunching, face growing scarlet**. She went from being someone who I liked so much that I couldn’t ever imagine dating, to a human being.

For me, making Steven into someone that isn’t perfect, but human (as much as any fictional character can be a human) was extremely important. I wanted readers to be able to imagine Steve as someone they could talk to, maybe have a drink with. It’s certainly the sort of person Steve thinks he is (or that I think that he thinks he is – yeah, writing’s a weird business).

Perhaps that’s the makings of a great character:  flawed, painfully flawed and just maybe, maybe strong/compassionate/smart enough to face whatever it is that confronts them. Finding out whether or not they are can make the finest sort of story.

*Of course, “have tos” have to be taken with a grain of salt.

**I can’t believe Diana let me tell that story.