How To Write A Sick Character

How to Write a Sick Character

╰ First of all — being sick is boring as hell

Nobody tells you that. You think it’s gonna be poetic and tragic and emotionally moving, maybe a few tears on the windowpane and a soft piano soundtrack? Wrong. It’s pacing in a waiting room for two hours to be told to come back next week. It’s reruns of trash TV because your brain fog is so bad you can't even process a podcast. It's Googling "why do my bones hate me" at 3 a.m. and finding nothing helpful, only vibes. So if you're writing a sick character and every scene is Deep and Heavy and Symbolic, I love you but no. Let them be bored. Let them be over it. Let them fall asleep halfway through someone’s big speech.

╰ Second — sickness is basically a toxic relationship with your own body

And wow, the drama is unmatched. One day your character wakes up and thinks, “Maybe today will be normal.” Their body: “Plot twist, bitch.” Now they’re sweating through a hoodie, canceling plans, and pretending they're “just tired” because explaining the truth is somehow more exhausting than the illness itself. Let your character hate their body sometimes. Let them feel betrayed by it. Let them mourn the version of themselves that used to just do things without needing a three-day nap after. But also—let them fight for their body, too. Advocate. Adapt. Try again. Because it’s not all despair. Sometimes it’s really freaking brave just to get out of bed and put on pants.

╰ Third — it’s not cute

Hollywood loves to write illness like it’s an aesthetic. Clean blankets, sad smiles, a gentle cough. Yeah… no. Sometimes it’s vomit in your hair. It’s medical tape pulling off skin. It’s being too tired to shower but still scrolling through memes like your life depends on it. Give us the gross stuff. The embarrassing stuff. The human stuff.

╰ Fourth — let them be funny

Sick people are hilarious. Mostly because we have to be. You’ve got two choices when your body is a disaster zone: laugh, or fully unravel. So we joke about our failing organs. We flirt with the nurse while on IV fluids. We name our medical devices. We send memes from the ER. Let your character joke. Let them be sharp, sarcastic, absurd. Not because they're “taking it well,” but because that’s their armor. Humor is one of the most honest forms of pain. Use it.

╰ Fifth — sick ≠ broken

Please hear this: your character is not less than. They are not just here to suffer and die and inspire others with their angelic perseverance. They’re a person. Maybe a chaos goblin. Maybe a genius. Maybe a mess. Maybe a lover, a fighter, a giant emotional raccoon with a heating pad. Let them live and have goals. Let them chase things. Let them screw up. Let them be loved and desired and complicated. Their illness is part of them, not all of them.

╰ Lastly — don’t wrap it up too clean

Recovery isn’t linear. Some illnesses don’t “end.” And that’s okay. You don’t need a miracle cure in the third act. Sometimes strength is just learning to exist in a different way. Sometimes it’s re-learning how to hope. Sometimes it’s finding a new rhythm instead of forcing the old one to work. Let your character find peace, not perfection. So yeah—if you’re writing a sick character, you’re doing something important. You’re making space for people whose stories rarely get told with truth and teeth and tenderness. Just promise me you won’t turn them into a symbol. Let them be a person. A funny, scared, strong, exhausted, hopeful person. Like the rest of us.

@katrein05 I Hope This Helps a little... :)