Writing fiction is often thought of in terms of language and creativity (along with the discipline and dedication to run the marathon), but there’s something else on my mind that I’d like to share. I’ll warn you . . . it’s a bit out there. I spend a surprising amount of time living inside other people’s minds—people who don’t exist.

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It’s essential to understand and appreciate that my characters are different from me. How they think, what they feel, how they react to the obstacles I continuously put in front of them—they create insights for me that extend beyond the pages I write. And I’ve come to appreciate that.

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A writer not only tells the reader what characters do; he should communicate why they do it. Compelling characters have to be developed—their fears and desires, their histories and contradictions—and woven into the fabric of the story. Characters shouldn’t be reduced to me telling you that they are handsome or pretty, that they’re smart . . . or whatever. My job is to communicate emotions. What do they believe? What are they afraid of? How do they justify choices that might seem irrational or even wrong? These questions often force me to explore perspectives that are not my own.

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The irony of this process is that the challenges my characters face are of my own design. I put them into conflict, I subject them to loss—and I must guide them through it honestly and realistically. Convenient resolutions are a no-no, so I take them to places where they are sometimes uncomfortable, then allow them to tell me (and therefore you) who they are, what motivates them, and what their emotional struggles are. Their flaws and vulnerabilities are exposed. I feel them—and I want you to as well.

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I’ve found that, over time, the habit of listening to my characters and letting them tell me their story has carried forward in real life. After too many years, I’ve learned to become a better listener and, hopefully, more empathetic. Just as no fictional character is purely good or bad, neither are people in real life. Writing fiction has taught me that there’s a payoff to digging beneath the surface, that there’s always a backstory.

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A final admission—one I didn’t expect when I started writing.

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Writing from the characters’ different perspectives throws me into their emotional reality. It’s surprisingly vivid. It’s immersive.  Isolated, hopeful, emotionally fractured, joyously celebrating—I engage deeply with all those emotions as the characters tell me their stories. I laugh out loud. I cry out loud (some scenes get me every time). It reminds me that a fictional act can connect me to something deeply human.

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Creating characters and telling their story is not passive observation; it’s active engagement with the inner lives of others. True, I’ve invented the characters and their stories, but the emotional truths are tangible, and can be applied to the real world.

For me, writing fiction is a lesson in empathy. It turns out that by listening to the characters I create, I’ve become better at listening to real people too. Another reason to keep writing.