Your characters know things you don’t. At least I hope yours do, because mine do and I don’t want to be alone. Years ago, when I was big into writing fanfic, people would beg me for spoilers, wanting to know what was going to happen next. I couldn’t tell them. It’s not that I didn’t want to tell them, but I couldn’t tell them. Why? Because I had no clue what was going to happen because my characters hadn’t told me yet. Seriously, your characters know things you don’t.
If you are a writer, here is something both comforting and mildly unsettling: your characters know things you don’t, and they will reveal those truths on the page long before your conscious brain catches up.
I don’t mean in a spooky “they are whispering at you from the corner of the room” way, although if that is happening, maybe light a candle and call it ambiance. I mean that when you are deep in a story, your characters often carry truths, tensions, and outcomes that you have not fully articulated yet.
This is true whether you are a meticulous plotter or a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pajama-pants pantser. No one gets a pass.
At some point in the writing process, your characters start nudging you. They hesitate when you want them to act. They say things that surprise you. They refuse to follow the outline you spent an embarrassing amount of time color-coding. It’s because your characters know things you don’t long before you are ready to admit them.
That is not a failure of planning. That is information.
Your Characters Know Things You Don’t (Even If You Outlined Everything)
Plotters sometimes assume this idea only applies to pantsers. After all, if you planned everything, what secrets could possibly be left?
Plenty.
Even the most detailed outline cannot account for emotional nuance that only shows up once the characters are alive on the page. You might know what happens in chapter twelve, but you do not always know how it feels until you write it.
Pantsers experience this more loudly. The story seems to wander. A character suddenly reacts in a way you did not expect. A “minor” side character starts demanding attention like they pay rent.
Different paths. Same result. Your characters know things you don’t, and the draft is where those truths surface.
When Characters Resist, Pay Attention
One of the biggest clues that your characters are trying to tell you something is resistance.
- You keep pushing a scene forward, but it feels flat.
- A decision makes sense logically, but emotionally it rings hollow.
- You dread writing a particular moment, even though it is “supposed” to happen.
That resistance is often your subconscious waving a little flag. Something is off.
Maybe the character is not ready. Maybe the motivation is wrong. Maybe the conflict is deeper than you planned. Or maybe the story wants to go somewhere slightly different, and your outline is clinging to control like it is holding onto the last lifeboat.
Listening does not mean throwing everything out. It means pausing long enough to ask, “What am I missing?”
Characters Speak Through Emotion, Not Dialogue
Writers sometimes take the phrase “characters talking to you” too literally. It is rarely about clever dialogue popping 
into your head.
More often, characters communicate through emotion: discomfort, excitement, a sense of inevitability, or that strange pull toward a scene you were not planning to write yet.
Those feelings are data. They are your brain synthesizing everything you know about the character, the world, and the stakes, and delivering the conclusion before you have consciously articulated it.
When you ignore that data, the writing gets harder. When you listen, things often fall into place with surprising ease.
This Is Where Better Stories Come From
Some of the strongest moments in a story come from listening instead of forcing.
- A relationship deepens earlier than expected.
- A betrayal lands harder because you let it breathe.
- A character chooses something messier, truer, and more human than your original plan.
This is not the same as letting a story spiral out of control. It is collaboration between your planning brain and the part of you that understands people, emotion, and cause and effect on a deeper level.
Writers who listen to their characters tend to write stories that feel lived-in rather than manufactured.
How to Practice Listening
If this idea feels abstract, here are a few practical ways to tune in:
- When a scene feels wrong, stop and journal as the character for five minutes. No fixing. Just venting.
- Ask what the character is afraid of in that moment, not what they want.
- Write the “wrong” version of the scene and see what it teaches you.
- Notice which scenes you are avoiding. There is usually a reason.
If you want a quick check-in question that works every time, try this: “What does my character know that I am refusing to admit yet?” You might be surprised by the answer. Very often, your characters know things you don’t because they are carrying the emotional truth of the story, even when your outline is carrying the events.
If this helped you, you might also like:
From Idea to Outline: Different Writing Planning Methods
Save this for later for the next time your characters start acting suspiciously insightful.
For an external craft perspective, Helping Writers Become Authors has strong resources on character motivation and story structure.
Trust the Process, Even When It Is Messy
Your characters knowing things you don’t is not a sign that you are losing control of your story. It is a sign that you are doing it right.
Writing is not about domination. It is about discovery. The more you listen, the more honest and compelling your work becomes.
So the next time a character hesitates, argues, or quietly refuses to cooperate, pause. They might be trying to tell you something important.
Your characters know things you don’t. If you let them, they will lead you to a better story.
