Paul’s spinal cord was damaged in a car accident, so now he uses a wheelchair for mobility. Timothy has intermittent muscle spasms and weakness after the magical attack that nearly killed him. Alison’s acute synesthesia leads to panic attacks when her senses are overloaded. Eulalie spends hours in the washroom with irritable bowel syndrome. And Ivy was born without wings, a congenital amputee.

Did you know that July 14th is International Disability Awareness Day? In fact, the whole month of July is about raising awareness of the needs, concerns, and experiences of people with disabilities. Since disability is one of the themes that comes up frequently in my books, this seems like a great opportunity to talk about reasons to include disabled characters in fiction, some stereotypes and clichés to avoid, and ways to portray people with disabilities more accurately and thoughtfully in our writing.

Why should I include disabled people in my stories?

Traumatic injuries, congenital disorders and chronic illnesses are facts of the world we live in, and millions of people deal with those issues every day. If we want our stories to feel real and well-rounded, it’s important to include disability along with other kinds of diversity, and not just make all our characters able-bodied and healthy by default. Even if we’re writing about a technologically or magically advanced world that has eliminated illness and injury, that’s a choice that readers with disabilities will notice—and find disappointing, or even painful, to read.

Why? Because historically speaking, people with disabilities have not been well represented in fiction. If they aren’t languishing in bed, shut up in the attic, or otherwise left behind while able-bodied characters get all the attention, they’re often treated as objects of pity, disgust, or even mockery. So leaving disabled characters out of our stories doesn’t solve that problem. We need to write better, more thoughtful stories, ones that acknowledge and include them.

What stereotypes should I avoid?

Have you ever noticed how many villains are described as physically deformed or injured, with bodies that supposedly reflect their twisted souls? Captain Hook’s prosthetic is a deadly weapon; the Phantom’s mask hides scars we’re meant to see as horrific; and every other bad guy in comics and TV cartoons has an eyepatch or a claw hand. Even gentler stories like L.M. Montgomery’s Emily of New Moon series include characters like Dean “Jarback” Priest, whose hunched posture foreshadows a selfish, grasping spirit. And there are many more books for children and teens, including recent ones, that perpetuate the idea that people with disabilities are monstrous, sinister, or untrustworthy.

But there are supposedly “positive” portrayals that are just as harmful, like the saintly sufferer who lives to inspire the able-bodied people around them. Think of Tiny Tim in Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, for instance. He’s not a real boy with a personality, he’s a sweet little angel on crutches who exists solely to move Ebenezer Scrooge to pity. If you’re including a character with a disability just so your non-disabled hero or heroine can become a better person by caring for them, you’re not treating them as a real character, you’re using them as a prop.

Another problem with disabled characters in fiction is that their stories often end in one of two ways: they receive a magical (or medical) cure for their disability, which makes it seem like other disabled people just aren’t good enough to deserve healing, or they die in some noble, bittersweet way to create melodrama. Sometimes they even kill themselves to make the MC’s life easier (as in the movies Gattaca and Me Before You), and it’s portrayed as a noble sacrifice instead of a tragedy. Either way, the author’s message is clear—being disabled means never being able to lead a full or happy life, and if you can’t get rid of your disability then you’re better off dead.

So if you’re thinking of rewarding your heroine with a magic spell to replace the arm she lost to the dragon, or having the hero’s chronically ill mother commit suicide so he can go to college, please don’t. Try thinking of creative ways that those characters can adapt to their disability and make a better life for themselves and their loved ones instead. Yes, there are significant legal, medical and practical challenges that disabled people face, and it can make their lives difficult. That’s why it’s all the more important not to sweep those issues under the carpet by eliminating them from our stories.

How can I write realistic disabled characters?

Keep in mind that people with disabilities are people first and foremost, and that they’re just as complicated, flawed and talented as any other human beings. They have desires and dreams, feelings and frustrations like everyone else. Don’t get so distracted by the devices they use for mobility, or the techniques they use to cope, that you fail to give them the same depth as your other characters. And don’t be quick to assume that they’re fragile or helpless, either. If you’ve never watched wheelchair rugby or other Paralympic sports, check out some videos on YouTube—those athletes are tough!

Research is key. Find out as much as you can about the specific disability your character is dealing with, and read books and articles by real people with that disability. What coping strategies do they use? What frustrates them about the way their disability is perceived and treated by others? What language do they use when talking about it? What do they dislike about media portrayals and news articles about their condition? If you can, find a reader or fellow writer who has experience of disability to read your story and suggest ways to make it more accurate. I learned a lot about how to portray my paraplegic character in Knife by talking to a couple of fellow writers with spinal cord injuries, for instance. Because I’d read and commented on their work they were happy to do the same for mine, but if you don’t have that kind of relationship you should be prepared to pay your reader or negotiate some other return for their work instead.

That being said, there’s no guarantee of getting every detail right, and not everyone with experience of disability may feel you’ve written about it perfectly. But if you take the time to listen, learn, and think carefully about what you’re saying, that thoughtfulness should come through in your story. At the very least, it will keep you from spreading misinformation or harmful stereotypes.

Ultimately, though, the very best portrayals of disability come from first-hand experience. If you’re an author who lives with a disability, but until now you’ve shied away from putting that aspect of your life into your stories, please reconsider! The world needs more good books featuring disabled people in every genre, not just contemporary fiction. Let’s have more romances, mysteries, and epic fantasies that highlight people with disabilities, and that will help readers respect and identify with them instead of pitying or fearing them.

Do you have a favorite book or story that includes disability? Are you working on a project with a disabled character, or living with a disability as you pursue your writing career? I’d love to hear about it in comments!