Finding Myself in Fiction

How imaginary lives became part of my own journey.

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Once upon a time, I remember hearing that the things we dislike about others are the parts we’ve silently buried about ourselves. The idea goes that, whether by our shame or society’s, we’ve chosen to hide parts of ourselves that were once innate, and now we can’t stand to see those same qualities in others IE: “I don’t like him because he’s too loud” means we were once loud and boisterous and somewhere along the way someone (ourselves, our parents, society) shamed us and so, we learned that’s bad and suppressed it. Now, it hurts to see others being allowed to live that way, and on some unconscious level, we resent it in others.

I don’t know if I believe this, but I do believe we’re drawn to fictional characters who represent the parts of ourselves we wish were allowed to flourish. We look to them for guidance and inspiration, not because they’re so different from us, but because we recognize that thing in ourselves and are looking for a way to access it. Permission even.

If you look around at your favorite characters—in books, tv, movies—who do you see? What qualities come up over and over again?

Inspired by

Soph Coombs

’ post, I decided that I, a self-proclaimed introvert, born bookworm with a shy streak, who more or less keeps to herself, should examine the fictional women I’ve called my idols. Honestly, I was pretty surprised when I started to make the list.

Here we go.

Blair Waldorf

my judgy face anytime anyone tells me anything

My ride-or-die, if ever a fictional character could be one. Real-life me would be so terrified of Blair Waldorf, but watching her on the screen just lights me up. There’s no one I want to be more. Yes, she could be terrible but let us not forget she was a literal teenager with her own set of baggage. Over the years, we saw how complicated and versatile she was —clever and cunning but also empathetic and forgiving. She was the first character who made me want to understand fashion and the only one ever to make me try out a headband.

Mostly, I loved how she just owned she was, with no apologies. She knew herself, and she didn’t let that stop her from anything. Instead, she used it to her advantage. She’s open to growth and change and over the six seasons, we see that—but she never loses that fire and ambition. She never stops going after what she wants.

Defining moment: I’ve never felt anything more than when Blair was screaming at Serena about how hard she had to work at everything and how it still wasn’t enough because people just didn’t like her how they liked Serena.

Effy Stonem

I definitely had outfits like this and in fact, used it as inspiration for a Skins inspired photo shoot. Scroll to the end for that exciting discovery.

If Skins did anything right (and listen, they did a lot right, at least up until Seasons 5-6. Let’s pretend those didn’t exist) it was that they’d always center a relatively unknown cast around one well-known actor, and trust that the rest would rise to the occasion. We saw it in the first season with Nick Hoult and what resulted is one of the best two seasons of television out there. I will not hear any arguments on this.

In S3 & S4 they moved Tony’s sister Effy Stonem (Kaya Scodelario), who had previously been a background character, to the forefront and she became the lead. Brilliant. It also gave us a look into one of the strongest, most complicated characters on television.

What I love about Effy is how central she felt to the teenage experience — even as I watched her for the first time at twenty-two. Her angst and fear, her self-destructive behavior, just for the sake of it. The mystery. It’s that part I wanted the most. Not to blow up my life, though, at times, I really did. But to be a mystery to someone. Anyone. To be dark and complicated and to love so fully it made me want to burst. To be loved despite all of that.

Effy is by far the outlier on this list because by all accounts, she was sort of a wild child and I very much was not, nor did I want to be. But I related so much to her emotion and the fraught way she showed up in the world that she’s impacted me ever since.

Defining moment: Effy standing in the middle of the highway screaming “I want to be scared! I want to remember!”

Olivia Pope

“it’s handled”

Ah, Olivia Pope. So impactful that I’ve made her presence a not-insignificant part of my WIP. Impeccable fashion aside, Olivia Pope is like a grown-up Blair Waldorf to me. Cool, confident, and absolutely bursting with emotion that she refuses to show to the outside world. I could never claim to be either of these women, but I can relate so fully to feeling everything and being unable and unwilling to show it outside a few very select people.

What I admire so much about Olivia Pope, is that she Gets. Things. Done. There’s literally nothing she can’t accomplish, and it doesn’t matter how bad things are—getting kidnapped, tortured, so many absurd deaths —she’s focused and determined, and she stays on track. In real life, this might be labeled unhealthy. In fiction, I see it as incredibly admirable. I’ve always been a hard worker, but when my heart is broken, I’m just about useless. But Olivia Pope — there’s nothing that stands in her way.

Defining moment: Literally anytime she’s swishing around DC in one of her signature white suits and staring straight ahead as she says “it’s handled” into her very old Nokia.

Velma Kelly

I think I saw this in theaters roughly 10 times. I’m not exaggerating.

My very first love. When I was young, I was obsessed with Catherine Zeta-Jones. I mean, properly obsessed. I joined CZJ chat rooms (remember chat rooms?) had posters of her all over my wall, and binged every movie I could get my hands on. I still think America’s Sweethearts with CZJ, John Cusack, and Julia Roberts is pure gold.

But it was the movie adaptation of Chicago and, specifically, CZJ’s role as Velma, that started it all. I had never seen anyone so fierce. So unapologetically herself, so rude and yet so comfortable with it? Just out there living her life, murdering her husband and sister and being like, “I mean, they sucked, what do you want from me?” Never mind that she looked killer with a bob and could swish around all day in those silk robes and look fabulous. I remember buying a set from Walmart as a FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD so I could be just like her. (Murder not included).

And the way she was so unapologetically herself and yet clever about it—she knew when she was on top, and she also knew when she had to compromise, to grovel, to adjust for survival, and she did. She was prideful but not stupid. Adaptable. Willing to do what it takes.

I’ve never seen a character exude such unearned confidence before, and I wanted to be like that so badly.

Defining moment: Velma Kelly sashaying down the courtroom aisle in that gorgeous outfit, smiling at everyone before taking the stand, all tall and confident. I’ll never forget how she leaned forward while saying her name. The way it rolled off her tongue. Voice deep, and confident. Like it was all a game.

“State your name for the record.”

“Velma Kelly.”

Like she’d never been so proud to say anything. I wanted to be her.

So, what does all this mean?

The thing that’s so interesting is that it’s not as if there weren’t quieter counterparts to these women. That is, the characters I should have been drawn to if I was looking to relate to others just like me. Blair had Serena. Effy had Panda. Velma had Roxy. But I didn’t want to be any of those people. I didn’t want to be the sidekick, or the wallflower, or the good girl sitting next to them.

I wanted to be the one in the spotlight. The girl making trouble, taking on the world, throwing caution to the wind with her every move. I wanted to be Bold. Confident. In control.

I wanted to be powerful. I wanted to be seen.

So maybe that’s where this ends. Maybe that’s the point. That I’ve never been fully confident, or bold, or felt even a little in control. I’ve certainly never felt powerful or seen. But, isn’t that my fault? Don’t I hide away just a little bit, preferring nostalgia and perfect memories to the messy truth?

Isn’t it also accurate that I sometimes make myself smaller on purpose, physically shrinking until I’m hunched or in a corner or hiding in a bathroom stall, until no one can hurt me because they can no longer see me? Haven’t I spent my life oscillating between these things in the vain hope it might one day resolve itself? That I might discover who I really am?

I don’t have the answers. But it got me thinking. If these pieces of myself can be ignited through a fictional character, maybe there’s hope for me yet. Maybe these things are a little closer to the surface than I realized. And if that’s true, whose to say I can’t start embracing them?

What fictional characters have you always been drawn to? What has it made you curious about within yourself?

P.s. here are those Skins inspired photos I promised. 🫣 college aged me was so neurotic

ReactWithin Photography

About Coffee and Nostalgia:

Coming of age reflections on love, friendship, and career from a 36-year-old still desperately trying to relive her 20s through her writings. I’m so glad you’ve decided to spend some time in my cozy, nostalgic corner of the internet. <3

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