The best examples of crafting flawed characters: 3 examples writers can steal from

Picture this: two protagonists walk onto the page.

The first is strong, kind, emotionally mature, always knows what to say, never loses their temper, and somehow has perfect hair in every scene.

The second is smart but petty, generous but secretly resentful, brave until it really counts, and occasionally says the exact wrong thing to the person they care about most.

Which one feels like someone you might actually know?

When writers go hunting for examples of crafting flawed characters: 3 examples usually show up in every craft book: the proud hero, the cowardly survivor, the obsessive genius. But the best examples don’t stop at a label. They show how a flaw creates conflict, drives plot, and forces growth—or tragedy.

Let’s walk through three in-depth case studies, then layer in more real examples so you can see how to build your own.

Example 1: The hero whose greatest strength is also their flaw

Think about a character who refuses to back down. In a fantasy novel, that might look like courage. In a workplace drama, it might look like stubbornness that wrecks a team.

A powerful example of crafting flawed characters is the “unyielding idealist” who would rather burn their life down than compromise.

Imagine Lena, a public defender in a big U.S. city in 2025. She works 70-hour weeks, fights every case like it’s personal, and sleeps on her office couch. Her flaw isn’t that she cares too little—it’s that she cares so much she can’t see straight.

How the flaw actually works on the page:

• In action: Lena refuses a plea deal that would keep her client out of prison because she wants a full exoneration. She loses. Her client goes away for years.
• In relationships: Her partner asks for one date night a week. Lena promises, then breaks it again and again, always for something “urgent.”
• In self-image: She tells herself she’s the only one standing between her clients and injustice. That belief keeps her going—and keeps her from asking for help.

This kind of character echoes some of the best examples in popular culture. Think of someone like Leslie Knope from Parks and Recreation: relentless, idealistic, and often exhausting to everyone around her. Her flaw generates comedy and conflict, but also real growth.

If you want examples of crafting flawed characters: 3 examples that really stick, this type is your first building block: take a heroic trait (loyalty, courage, ambition) and turn the volume up until it starts breaking things.

How to steal this flaw for your own stories

Instead of writing “she’s stubborn” in your notes, ask:

• What good thing is she trying to protect with that stubbornness?
• Who gets hurt because she won’t bend?
• What is the one line she refuses to cross—even when she should?

When you answer those questions in scenes, you’re not just listing a flaw; you’re crafting a character whose inner contradictions drive the story.

Example 2: The charming liar who believes their own stories

Let’s move to another of the best examples: the character who lies so well they almost convince themselves.

Picture Malik, a 28-year-old content creator in 2024, obsessed with staying relevant on social media. His flaw? He keeps curating his life until there’s almost nothing real left.

On his feed, he’s always traveling, always “booked and busy,” always thriving. In reality, he’s living with roommates, drowning in debt, and terrified of being forgotten.

How this flaw plays out:

• In dialogue: Malik exaggerates small wins into major victories. A coffee with a local journalist becomes “media interest.” A brand sending a free sample becomes “ongoing partnership.”
• In plot: He fakes a bigger audience to land a sponsorship, then scrambles to deliver results he can’t actually produce.
• In inner conflict: Part of him knows he’s lying. Another part has started to believe the persona. The tension between those parts is where the story lives.

This mirrors real-life concerns about online image and mental health. Research from organizations like the National Institutes of Health notes that social media comparison can distort self-image and increase anxiety and depression (nih.gov). A character like Malik becomes a fictional reflection of that cultural pressure.

If you’re looking for real examples of this type, consider characters like Don Draper from Mad Men—a man built on reinvention and half-truths—or Amy from Gone Girl, who weaponizes narrative itself.

Turning the flaw into story fuel

To turn a liar into a compelling protagonist:

• Give them someone they genuinely love, who sees through them—or almost does.
• Create one lie that can’t be walked back. That’s your ticking time bomb.
• Let them be good at lying for a while. Competence makes the fall more satisfying.

In your notes, don’t just write “he’s deceptive.” Ask what he’s protecting with those lies: status, safety, childhood shame, fear of being ordinary. That deeper need is what turns a stock liar into one of your best examples of a flawed but magnetic character.

Example 3: The caretaker who controls everyone “for their own good”

For the third of our examples of crafting flawed characters: 3 examples, let’s look at a quieter flaw: control disguised as love.

Meet Ana, a 55-year-old nurse who has spent decades taking care of everyone—her patients, her siblings, her aging father. She’s the one with the spare key, the emergency cash, the extra casserole in the freezer.

Her flaw isn’t obvious at first. She looks generous, reliable, endlessly patient. But underneath that care is a deep need to be needed.

How this flaw shows itself:

• In small behaviors: Ana “fixes” her adult son’s resume without asking. She calls her daughter three times a day to “check in.” She rearranges her father’s medications after the doctor has already made a plan.
• In conflict: When someone sets a boundary—“Don’t come over unannounced,” “I can handle this”—she feels personally rejected and doubles down.
• In self-talk: She tells herself, “If I don’t manage everything, everything will fall apart.”

This character type echoes real psychological patterns like codependency and enmeshment. Resources from places like Mayo Clinic discuss how overinvolvement in others’ problems can actually maintain unhealthy dynamics rather than resolve them (mayoclinic.org).

Ana becomes interesting when her flaw finally costs her something she can’t easily replace: maybe a relationship with a child who moves across the country, or a job she loses after ignoring protocols “for the patient’s own good.”

Using this flaw in your writing

If you want one of the best examples of a quiet but powerful flaw:

• Give your character a long history of being praised for “always being there.”
• Let them overstep in a way that’s understandable, even sympathetic.
• Make the fallout messy: gratitude mixed with resentment, love mixed with suffocation.

This is how you turn a generic “controlling person” into a layered character whose flaw is both understandable and destructive.

More real examples: flawed characters readers actually remember

So far we’ve walked through examples of crafting flawed characters: 3 examples in depth. Now let’s widen the lens and look at more real examples from books and screen that you can study.

Notice how each of these characters has a flaw that:

• Interferes with something they care about
• Creates conflict with others
• Forces choices that shape the plot

Some standout cases:

• Lizzie Bennet in Pride and Prejudice: Prejudice and snap judgments. Her misreading of Darcy and Wickham doesn’t just create romantic tension; it reshapes her entire understanding of her family and herself.
• Walter White in Breaking Bad: Pride and hunger for power. He begins as a man trying to provide for his family and ends as someone who admits, “I did it for me.” That arc is one of the best examples of a flaw evolving over time.
• Fleabag in Fleabag: Self-destructive behavior and avoidance. Her humor is a shield, her sexuality often a punishment, and her refusal to face grief drives the story.
• BoJack Horseman in BoJack Horseman: Addiction, narcissism, and deep shame. The show repeatedly asks whether insight is enough to change behavior—an excellent study in making a deeply flawed character still worth watching.
• Sherlock Holmes in modern adaptations: Arrogance and emotional detachment. His brilliance is inseparable from his inability to connect, which keeps both cases and relationships on a knife’s edge.

When you’re studying the best examples, don’t just note the flaw. Track how it:

• Shows up in small scenes, not just big speeches
• Hurts people the character actually loves
• Forces them into situations they would have avoided if they were healthier

This is what separates a flat “angry guy” from a layered person whose anger is tied to fear, history, and identity.

Turning theory into practice: how to craft your own flawed characters

You came here for examples of crafting flawed characters: 3 examples, but to actually write your own, you need a method.

Here’s a simple way to build a flawed character without turning them into a walking diagnosis or a cartoon villain.

Start with what they want—and what they fear

Every memorable flawed character has a tension between desire and fear.

• Lena wants justice; she fears being powerless.
• Malik wants recognition; he fears being invisible.
• Ana wants connection; she fears abandonment.

Their flaws grow out of those fears:

• Overwork and martyrdom
• Lies and performance
• Control and overcare

When you design a character, write two sentences:

1. “More than anything, they want ______.”
2. “More than anything, they’re afraid that ______.”

Then ask: How does that fear make them behave badly? That answer is your flaw.

Make the flaw cost them something

A flaw that never costs anything is just color. The best examples always show the bill coming due.

Give your character at least three kinds of cost:

• Relational cost: Who walks away, snaps at them, or secretly resents them?
• Practical cost: What job, opportunity, or resource do they lose?
• Inner cost: What do they think about themselves at 3 a.m. when they can’t sleep?

The more specific you are, the more real your character feels.

Let the flaw help them…until it doesn’t

In almost every strong example of crafting flawed characters, the flaw is adaptive at first.

• The workaholic gets promoted.
• The liar avoids punishment.
• The control freak keeps the family afloat.

Only later does the same behavior start to backfire.

This shift—from helpful to harmful—is what gives an arc its emotional punch. Readers recognize that many of our worst habits started as survival skills.

Avoid turning flaws into stereotypes

If you’re writing about mental health, addiction, or trauma, it helps to ground your character in reality rather than cliché. For that, you can look at resources from places like Harvard Medical School (health.harvard.edu) or SAMHSA (samhsa.gov) to understand how real people cope and change.

Use that research not to diagnose your character, but to:

• Give them realistic coping strategies
• Show good days and bad days
• Avoid making them only their flaw

That nuance is what separates shallow portrayals from the best examples readers remember and recommend.

FAQ: Writing flawed characters readers care about

What are some strong examples of crafting flawed characters: 3 examples I can study right now?

Three easy starting points:

• A driven professional whose work obsession wrecks their personal life
• A charismatic liar who can’t tell where their persona ends and they begin
• A loving caretaker whose “help” slowly becomes control

You can model these on characters like Walter White, Fleabag, or BoJack, or invent your own versions in different settings—sci-fi, romance, historical, whatever you like.

How many flaws should a character have?

Most memorable characters have one central flaw that shows up in many ways, plus a few smaller quirks. Instead of piling on traits, focus on one core issue—like pride, fear of abandonment, or envy—and explore how it shapes choices across your story.

Can a protagonist be unlikeable and still work?

Yes, as long as they’re interesting and emotionally understandable. Many of the best examples—like antiheroes and morally gray leads—are often unlikeable on paper, but readers stick around because they’re complex, honest, or darkly funny.

What’s an example of a subtle flaw that still matters?

Perfectionism is a good example of a subtle flaw. On the surface it looks admirable, but it can lead to procrastination, burnout, and strained relationships. A character who can’t tolerate mistakes—especially their own—can drive a whole story in a workplace, academic, or family setting.

How do I avoid turning a flaw into melodrama?

Ground it in small, everyday actions: the text they don’t answer, the apology they avoid, the extra drink they pour, the email they rewrite twelve times. The more ordinary the behavior, the more believable the flaw.

When you look back at these examples of crafting flawed characters: 3 examples and the additional real examples sprinkled throughout, you’ll notice a pattern: the flaw is never just a label. It’s a repeating behavior that protects something tender and breaks something important.

If you can write that—the push and pull between protection and damage—you’re not just adding flaws. You’re crafting characters readers will think about long after they close the book.