Following a Red Thread Too Easily—The Fast Track to a Passive Protagonist

Passive protagonists are boring and predictable; they can tank your story before it even gets started. To make a novel worthwhile, readers must invest in your characters from page one. My job as an author was to create a believable heroine who drags the audience into her world—taking them on an engaging, page-turning journey where nothing is a foregone conclusion.

When my intuitive heroine, Ellie, receives a psychic vision and sees a glowing red string in Chapter 2, she is apprehensive about its meaning. Though she leans into the vision because it is pleasing, she doesn’t immediately jump on board and say, "Okay, I guess this is my life now." If she did, her relatability would die a quick death. She would stop making choices and start following orders from the plot. Readers would shut the book and move on to something with more teeth, more grit, more friction. Friction is the foundation of drama. Without Ellie’s initial skepticism and dismissive attitude there would be nowhere for the story to go. Writers must understand that instant belief equals instant compliance and that turns your character, your magic system, and the plot into an unrelatable story of mush.

When working within the confines of a contemporary paranormal romance, it’s important for the reader to see the author ground the protagonist in reality. Ellie is seeing red glowing threads in her dreams. She can rationalize that easily with the notion that dreams are out of her control. However, when red begins popping up in her waking world, like a squiggly red wave suddenly appearing on a TV screen while watching a movie, Ellie dismisses it as a weird technical issue. It’s easier to blame stress, sleep deprivation, or a trick of the light. Those explanations ground Ellie. They prove to readers that the character operates on human logic and they can relate to that.

Later in the novel, Ellie’s psychic friend, Kym, gives her a tarot card reading where she lays out The Two of Cups, The Lovers, and The Knight of Swords on the table. With each card that is revealed, Ellie is reluctant, overwhelmed, and doubtful. You can use your heroine’s doubt to voice the reader's skepticism. When Ellie deconstructs the psychic prediction via her reactions through sharp dialogue and resistant body language, she does the heavy lifting for the audience. The pushback makes the world feel real, creating a natural avenue for the magic to be swallowed and accepted. The magic will ultimately feel earned rather than forced.

Below are a few snippets from Chapter 5 where the magic begins to feel real. Take note of Ellie’s reactions and pushback and how each makes her more relatable.

“The Lovers,” Kym announced. “An unconditional, solid, and deep tie. A soulmate.”

Ellie sat stone-faced and twirled a strand of hair.

Wow, Two of Cups,” Kym said when she turned over the fourth card. “Another fated reference. Two energies coming together. It’s powerful and meant to be.”

Ellie blushed and swirled another loose tendril of hair.

“Let’s move on to the Knight card.” She touched The Knight of Swords. “Whoever Ezekiel is, he’s younger than you and he’s not afraid to take risks. He’s achieved success. Once he sets his sights on a goal, there’s no stopping him.”

Ellie lost her mind, falling apart over a man she’d never know. How was this possible? “This can’t be. I’ve got to get him out of my head.”

“You can’t; he’s supposed to be there,” Kym said pointblank. “Don’t fight it. You can’t change destiny. You’re supposed to meet again.”

Ellie gulped a desperate breath of air. “Wait. What? That’s crazy. No. I’m married, Kym.”

At this point in the reading, Kym hands Ellie a mysterious pouch filled with the different colored threads in Fate’s Loom. Ellie reaches in and grasps a simple braided cord of crimson. Kym launches into an explanation of the red string of fate myth. At first, Ellie is lured in but immediately pivots.

Destiny knocked on the door of Ellie’s fairy tale, threatening to bring it to life with magical red threads. A scary, yet intriguing, possibility. No, she had to snap out of this. Ezekiel was fantasy. Craig was reality. “Why me? Why Ezekiel?” Ellie crumpled like a piece of parchment, her body folding in on itself. “Stop it. This is all a myth, a stupid story. I’m never going to meet him.”

A relationship with Ezekiel Larson was enticing in a fairytale world of myth and legend and in dreams of them living past lives, but it was out of the question in reality—despite this red thread of destiny.

Instant belief distances readers. Human nature makes us fight the unexplainable. If we would object to such a fantastical revelation, so too should the protagonist we create. Letting Ellie feel overwhelmed, skeptical, and reluctant to accept the reading—and the pull of the red threads—makes her deeply human.

The red string of fate is a powerful romantic and magical trope, but it feels unearned without a struggle. When my heroine pulls back against the thread, she is testing its strength. Establishing Ellie's vehement opposition in Chapter 5 sets up a realistic arc. It allows her to transition from fear and skepticism to accepting that her fate is inextricably bound to Ezekiel's—leaving room for her to grow. And in fiction, character growth is an absolute must.

This fervent opposition means Ellie isn't just doubting—she’s actively fighting. Active resistance is exactly what keeps a romance from feeling predictable. Skepticism makes the eventual acceptance a triumph, not an inevitability.

How does your protagonist react when they encounter something outside the realm of normal reality? Do they run, rationalize it, or fight it?