Writing Craft
Competence usually shows up in the small, boring places. Not the grand reveal, but the person who notices the wrong label on a box, the missing screw in a hinge, the date that doesn’t quite fit.
Those details do a lot of work in fiction. They tell us someone is paying attention, and that they know what “normal” looks like well enough to spot the wobble.
I’m often more convinced by a character who can read a room, a form, or a broken bit of machinery than by one who announces expertise in a dramatic speech. The unglamorous tasks are where skill becomes visible.
Those details do a lot of work in fiction. They tell us someone is paying attention, and that they know what “normal” looks like well enough to spot the wobble.
I’m often more convinced by a character who can read a room, a form, or a broken bit of machinery than by one who announces expertise in a dramatic speech. The unglamorous tasks are where skill becomes visible.
Small errors can do the opposite as well. A character who spots every flaw sometimes starts to feel less observant and more convenient, as if the author is using them as a walking annotation.
I like competence when it has limits. Someone may notice the crooked label and still miss the emotional mess in front of them. That gap is usually where the interesting work is.
I like competence when it has limits. Someone may notice the crooked label and still miss the emotional mess in front of them. That gap is usually where the interesting work is.