Write with Me—Creating Ghostly Characters That Don’t Just Say “Boo”

Some writers create characters by outlining deep backstories, crafting complex motivations, and maybe even making an elaborate mood board filled with vintage photographs and mysterious newspaper clippings. Others just go, “Hmm, what if a ghost, but, like… complicated?”

I fall somewhere in the middle. My ghosts aren’t just floating around waiting to jump out of a closet at midnight. They have goals. They have emotions. They have regrets. And, most importantly, they have better things to do than rattle chains and lurk ominously in the corner. Honestly, some of them are busier dead than they ever were alive.

Take Amelia, for instance. She’s one of my favorite ghostly characters in my cozy mystery series. You’d think being a ghost would mean a lot of free time to do… ghost things? (What are ghost hobbies, anyway? Spectral knitting? Paranormal Pinterest scrolling?) But no, Amelia has a mission. And that mission involves way more than just floating through walls for dramatic effect.

Ghost Rule #1: They Were Someone Before They Were, You Know… Dead

A ghost without a backstory is just an echo. And an echo isn’t fun unless it’s bouncing around an ancient, cobwebbed hallway while someone dramatically gasps, “Did you hear that?”

So when I create my ghostly characters, I start by figuring out who they were before their, uh, unfortunate transition. Were they a daring adventurer who met their demise while searching for treasure? A baker whose experimental soufflé really didn’t go as planned? Or maybe someone who just had a particularly unfortunate slip on an untied shoelace? (Ghosts don’t all get glamorous exits, you know.)

Once I figure out their past, I can understand their personality. Are they sarcastic? Melancholy? A little too enthusiastic about outdated slang from the 1800s? Whatever it is, they don’t suddenly become blank-slate, chain-rattling specters the moment they pass into the afterlife. Their personality carries over. Sometimes that means solving mysteries. Sometimes it means getting into everyone’s business.

Ghost Rule #2: They’re Not Here for the Aesthetic—They Have a Goal

A good ghost isn’t just floating around aimlessly. (That’s a bad ghost. A lazy ghost.) No, my spectral characters have reasons for sticking around. Maybe they have unfinished business. Maybe they’re just nosy. Maybe they have an eternal grudge against whoever keeps redecorating their former home in atrocious wallpaper.

The point is, they have a mission. And it’s rarely as simple as “find out who killed me.” Sure, sometimes it’s that, (Amelia totally wanted to know!) but other times, it’s more personal. Maybe they regret never telling someone they loved them. Maybe they feel guilty about something they did in life. Or maybe—just maybe—they’ve been waiting a hundred years for someone to finally invent the perfect cup of coffee and they refuse to cross over until they taste it. Remember Simon?? Amelia desperately wanted to reconnect with him.

Ghost Rule #3: They Have an Arc (Because Stagnant Ghosts Are Just Dusty Memories)

This is the fun part. A ghost story isn’t just about why they’re here—it’s about what they learn along the way. Because if my ghosts just floated around and repeated the same spooky nonsense over and over, that would get real old, real fast.

Amelia, for example, starts out focused on a singular purpose. But as the story unfolds, she discovers things about herself (even in death!) that change her perspective. She absolutely realizes she was holding on too tightly to the past and the memories of her father. She learns to let go. She figures out that haunting isn’t about where you are, but who you haunt along the way.

And through making her peace with Sarah and her family, she finds peace—not because someone figured out how she died, but because someone finally listened to her, saw her for who she was, and gave her the closure she never thought she’d get.

Final Thoughts (or, A Very Dramatic Ending Where I Stare Pensively into the Fog)

Writing ghosts isn’t just about making things go bump in the night. It’s about creating people—even if they’re technically not people anymore. It’s about giving them depth, humor, and something real to fight for (even if they don’t have a pulse).

So the next time you see something move out of the corner of your eye, don’t panic. Maybe it’s just a ghost waiting for you to write their story. Or maybe it’s just your cat knocking things over. Honestly, it could go either way.

Writers, Don’t Be a Slave to Word Count: Let the Story Speak for Itself

As writers, we’ve all asked ourselves that nagging question: “Is my book long enough? Too short? How long should it be?” It’s easy to get caught up in the numbers, obsessing over whether our work fits neatly into arbitrary word count guidelines. But here’s the truth: Word count should never dictate the quality of your story. The heart of storytelling lies in the narrative itself, not in how many pages it spans. The Pressure of Word Count From NaNoWriMo goals to publishing industry standards, writers face constant reminders about “acceptable” word counts. A novel must be 80,000-100,000 words. A novella shouldn’t exceed 40,000. Short stories have their own limits. These guidelines are helpful, but they can also be stifling. We begin to pad scenes unnecessarily or trim meaningful moments just to conform to these benchmarks. I’ve been there. I’ve wrestled with my manuscript, forcing it to stretch or condense to meet expectations. And you know what happened? The authenticity of the...

The Glamorous Life of a Writer (Or, Mostly Just Staring at a Screen)

There’s a persistent rumor floating around that writers live thrilling, adventure-filled lives. Perhaps it’s all the dramatic author portraits on book jackets—moody, windswept, staring off into the distance as if contemplating the fate of the world. Perhaps it’s the movies, where writers are always dashing off to Paris to write the next great novel in a charming café (suspiciously never interrupted by spotty Wi-Fi or overpriced croissants). I hate to break it to you, but real writing? Not quite so cinematic. In reality, my writing days mostly involve staring intensely at my screen, willing the words to appear through sheer force of will. Occasionally, I engage in deep philosophical debates with myself—such as whether my protagonist should turn left or right down a hallway (the fate of the fictional world depends on it). And let’s not forget the highly intellectual process of naming characters, which can take hours because somehow every single name I think of is either the name of ...

Picking a Favorite Character? Impossible!

The question comes up all the time. It’s inevitable. Like taxes. Or discovering that you’ve been walking around with spinach in your teeth all day. "Who’s your favorite character?" And I should have a definitive answer, right? Like, boom—here’s my favorite! Neatly tied up, no hesitation, no emotional turmoil, no staring off into the middle distance questioning my life choices. But no. That is not how this works. That is not how any of this works. My knee-jerk reaction is always Pixie . Pixie, my telepathic, sass-infused, magical Papillon from the Magical Papillon Mysteries . How could I not pick her? She’s got it all—wit, charm, fluffy ears, and, most importantly, magic. I mean, who wouldn’t want a touch of magic? I can barely find my car keys half the time. Pixie would just twitch an ear, and boom—problem solved. And she’s funny. Not just “accidentally amusing” funny. No, she’s deliberately funny. She says the things we all wish we could say, with perfect comed...

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