Lean in to Your Sh*ttyness
Lately, I’ve started sharing my work with editors earlier in the process to push my writing to the next level. It’s a big shift from how I approached my first book, The Tower of Blue. Back then, I guarded my drafts like they were sacred. Now, I’ve realized that I need to release my “baby” into the wilderness—even if it can’t walk upright yet.
It reminds me of video game developers who let players test unfinished products. I used to wonder why anyone would take that risk. Now I get it: feedback is vital for growth.
The most consistent advice I’ve received from editors (including my fiancé, who reads my manuscripts on the subway) is to “lean in.” And no, I don’t mean kissing—though I have always been a fan of the 90/10 rule. Leaning in means allowing my characters to fully embrace who they are, flaws and all.
This has been one of the toughest challenges in my writing journey.
Leaning into flaws—my characters’ and my own—isn’t easy. In a world that celebrates politeness and virtue, it feels risky to reveal the messy, contradictory parts of ourselves. But those imperfections, those ugly truths, are what make us real.
I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately: in our pursuit of safety and goodwill, we’ve sanitized how we portray ourselves and our society. When the muck inevitably seeps through the cracks, people are shocked. But the truth is messy. It’s often ugly. People can be shitty. I wrestle with this constantly because, honestly, plenty of people probably think I’m shitty too.
I find the challenge is balance. Lean in too much, and you risk alienating readers. Hold back, and you end up hollow. My editor says the key is consistency. A character’s flaws need to make sense in the context of who they are, what they want, and where they’ve come from. It’s not about glorifying bad behavior—it’s about showing the complex, human struggle.
But sometimes I wonder: in a world that values kindness and morality as social currency, what’s the point? Why put so much effort into exploring the unlikable aspects of characters when society seems to reward polished, sanitized versions of truth and even more, don’t take the time to even try and understand where a person comes from?
In my humble opinion, there’s something deeply unsatisfying about a “perfect” portrayal of humanity. People aren’t perfect; they’re messy, contradictory, and flawed. And in a world that rewards a polished image, being unapologetically real is one of the most radical things you can do.
Ultimately, leaning into the mess is what makes stories—and people—worth engaging with. It’s not about being perfect; it’s about being real.
So let me use this space to take my own advice and lean in. I’m going to embrace the flaws, the contradictions, the truth—of my self and my characters. Because that’s where the magic lies.