Write Your Novel in 30 Days PDF

YOUR COMPLETE GUIDE TO A SOLID FIRST DRAFT
WRITER’S DIGEST presents
WRITE YOUR NOVEL

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� � DAYS
Proven Strategies INCLUDES
for Success �� WORKSHEETS
FOR PLANNING
• MASTER THE ELEMENTS OF FICTION YOUR DRAFT!
Plus: FREE
• DEVELOP YOUR STORY ARC: Bonus Worksheet
� PROVEN METHODS Downloads
• START STRONG FROM THE FIRST PAGE
Secrets for
Staying on Track
• A DAILY PLANNER FOR WEEK ONE
• � TRICKS FOR MANAGING YOUR TIME
• ��-DAY CALENDAR: YOUR GOALS AT A GLANCE
!
KEEP THE MOMENTUM
N CHECKLIST
• THE ULTIMATE REVISIO
• NOVEL QUERY BA SICS
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WRITE YOUR NOVEL

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� � DAYS
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If you think writing a book in a
month is an irrational pursuit,
EXECUTIVE EDITOR
Jane Friedman
you’re a little bit right. Sometimes
DESIGNER
Terri Woesner we have to do crazy things to get
WRITER’S DIGEST STAFF
headed down the right path.
EDITOR
Jessica Strawser To stop the procrastination, you
MANAGING EDITOR
Zachary Petit
need a bold goal. A 30-day chal-
ASSOCIATE DESIGNER lenge can motivate you to do what
Jess Boonstra
ONLINE COMMUNITY EDITOR
you’ve put o� for too long: dedi-
Brian A. Klems cating yourself to your writing.
WRITER’S DIGEST EDITORIAL OFFICES �is guide is helpful for any beginning-to-intermediate �ction
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this guide still o�ers essential milestones and worksheets that can
help you no matter what kind of time frame you use. Here are
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three potential paths.
David Nussbaum
CHIEF FINANCIAL OFFICER ��
James Ogle
You don’t have to prep if you don’t want to—especially if you’ve
PRESIDENT
Sara Domville been contemplating a speci�c story idea for a while, and just need
PUBLISHER & COMMUNITY LEADER
Phil Sexton
to start. Use the 30-day calendar on pages 38–39 to begin writing
EXECUTIVE VICE PRESIDENT, E-MEDIA and outlining immediately on Day 1. �is schedule integrates a
Chad Phelps
SENIOR VICE PRESIDENT, OPERATIONS
few key steps into your �rst week that will build the basic frame-
Phil Graham work for a successful story line.
DIRECTOR, INFORMATION TECHNOLOGY
Jim Kuster
��
DIRECTOR, BUSINESS PLANNING
Trent Miller Before you mark Day 1 of your writing, read through the sec-
DIRECTOR, EVENTS
Cory Smith
tion “Lay the Groundwork” to create realistic goals, manage your
SENIOR VICE PRESIDENT, ADVERTISING SALES time well, and identify the kind of story you want to write. To fur-
David Shiba
DIRECTOR, AUDIENCE DEVELOPMENT
ther ground your e�orts, you may also want to outline your work
Debra Westmaas beforehand (see “To Outline or Not To Outline” on page 23).
PRODUCTION MANAGER
Mark Lilla However: Don’t get sucked into the trap of over-preparing, or
using outlines and research as a procrastination tool. Set yourself
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ADVERTISING SALES REPRESENTATIVE a speci�c day to start your 30-day writing e�ort.
Nancy Miller (800)283-0963, ext. 11228; fax: (513)531-0798;
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ADVERTISING SALES COORDINATOR
��
Barb Prill (800)726-9966, ext. 13435; fax: (715)445-4087; Excellent! You can still use the 30-day method, and you should
barb.prill@fwmedia.com
complete all the worksheets, which will help you uncover poten-
NEWSSTAND SALES
Scott T. Hill; scott.hill@procirc.com
tial problems in your story. Depending on how much of the man-
uscript is written, you may want to designate a week or two of your
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WritersDigest.com��
presents
WRITE YOUR NOVEL

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� � DAYS 18 Uncovering Fresh Story Ideas
BY JOSEPH BATES
Tap your daily life, as well as your imagination,

for novel-worthy characters and plots.
23 To Outline or Not to Outline?

BY JAMES SCOTT BELL
It’s one of the biggest questions facing every

novelist. Here are the pros and cons—plus
�ve proven outlining methods.
31 Word Count Basics

BY CHUCK SAMBUCHINO
Know your goal so you can plan how many

words you need to write each day or week
to complete your book in 30 days.
GET A RUNNING START
LAY THE GROUNDWORK 33 Your 7-Day Jumpstart

BY VICTORIA SCHMIDT
4 How You Can Write a Book

Say good-bye to intimidation. Here’s a
game plan for your �rst week—including
in a Month essential checkpoints for long-term success.
BY VIC TORIA SCHMIDT
It’s not impossible to write a quality

manuscript in 30 days. Get ready to
38 30-Day Calendar
BY VICTORIA SCHMIDT
accomplish the goal of a lifetime. Use these tips, reminders and steps to help
9
you stay on track.
7 Tips for Time Management
BY VIC TORIA SCHMIDT
Stop making excuses. Everyone has time

40 Your First Scenes
BY SARAH DOMET
to write—as long as you have the right You don’t have much time to hook the
mindset. Here’s how to get it. reader. Here’s what you need to accomplish
14
in the �rst act of your novel.
How to Set Writing Goals
You’ll Actually Keep 45 Assemble Your Characters
BY VICTORIA SCHMIDT BY NANCY KRESS
Don’t start that manuscript without knowing Here are four paths for building your cast
what motivates you, and committing to paper of essential characters, plus the question
what you intend to accomplish. you need to ask of each: changer or stayer?
��WRITE YOUR NOVEL IN �� DAYS

52 Common Chapter One Pitfalls 97 Preparing a Novel Query
BY CHUCK SAMBUCHINO
and Submission Package
What types of �rst scenes or story BY K AREN WIESNER
openings should you avoid? Industry A�er you have a polished and �nal dra�,
insiders speak out. these steps will help you submit your work
to publishers or agents.
BUILD OUT THE STORY
WORKSHEETS
56 Your �ree-Act Structure
BY JAMES SCOT T BELL
During the 30-day challenge, you should

101 Worksheet Index
frequently re-evaluate your structure so
you end up with a compelling story.
102 Story Tracker
(Act I, Act II, Act III)
63 Scenes: �e Building
105 Story Idea Map
Blocks of Your Novel
BY JORDAN ROSENFELD
Learn how to master the scene, and you’ll

107 Scene Card
be assured of a strong dra� that won’t fall
apart on you during revision.
108 At-A-Glance Outline
70 5 Techniques to Keep Your

113 Character Sketch
Story Moving Forward 115 Character-Revealing Scenes

BY JOSEPH BATES
It’s called the “Mushy Middle” for a reason. 116 Climax

Find out how to keep readers interested
during Act II and beyond. 117 Denouement & Closing Scenes
77 �e Art of Closing Well

FOR INSPIRATION
BY JOSEPH BATES
128
Readers deserve a satisfying ending. Here’s
how to anticipate and shape a memorable �e Final Word
climax, closing act and denouement.
EVALUATE, REVISE, SUBMIT
86 �e Ultimate Revision Checklist

BY JAMES SCOT T BELL
Here’s how to take your �rst dra� to

polished manuscript.
� ��
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FRIDAY
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HOW YOU CAN WRITE
A BOOK IN A MONTH
It’s not impossible to write a quality manuscript in 30 days.
Get ready to accomplish the goal of a lifetime.
W
e all have issues that keep us from ful�lling our goals. Any big
undertaking will bring those issues to the surface in the form
of resistance. Resistance is the way your subconscious tries to
protect you from taking risks. Ever get really tired the second
you tried to change a habit? Sudden fatigue is a great indicator that resistance
is at play. Let’s take the �rst step and answer some of the questions that may
be �oating through your head.
Has anyone written a book in 30 days?

Yes! I know a group of genre authors who do just that—ever hear of Nora
Roberts (also known as J. D. Robb)? Or how about Dame Barbara Cartland?
She wrote a book a week, becoming one of the most proli�c writers
in history.
Yeah, but how good were those books?

�at’s a judgment question (and we’ll take a closer look at the role our inner
critic plays in the writing process later in this introduction). We don’t have
time to judge the work of others because that only leads us down the path
to judging our own work. Drop “judging” from your vocabulary! �ere have
been great and horrible books in every genre, whether they took 30 years
to write or 30 days. Besides, it’s unlikely that your 30-day manuscript will
emerge fully formed, ready for the printing presses as is. �at comes with
skill, practice and a lot of polishing ... but you can’t start down that path to the
rewrite unless you have a complete manuscript ready to work with.
If I can’t �nd the time to write now, how will I �nd the time to write a whole
book this quickly?
Short deadlines can actually be invigorating. What I mean by this is, if you
tell yourself that you have to set aside six months to get a dra� down, it will

seem like a huge task (will you really ask your family to teach these �ve secrets, which makes it very di�cult for
make a sacri�ce for six months?). the writer to actually produce his dra�.
But what if you only have to ask your family to pitch In truth, these �ve secrets might seem, at �rst, very
in for one month? If 30 days does not seem like much simple, but once you begin to apply them, you will see
to write a book, then, hey, 30 days is not a big sacri�ce. why these are necessary not just to keep your book mov-
Give it a shot. �e kids, family and friends can pitch in ing, but to keep it moving forward.
for that amount of time without too much strain. More �e �rst three deal with techniques, tools and tricks
important, you’ll have given yourself a very narrow and you can use to maintain forward momentum and focus.
focused time frame in which to work. �e last two deal with the writer himself; there is a bit of
Can this guide help me rewrite my manuscript if I’ve psychology here.
got a �nished one that I really want to try to salvage? �e �ve secrets to successfully writing a book in a
Yes. �is guide works for anyone starting fresh, or month are:
rewriting an earlier dra� instead of starting a new one. 1. Work “as if.”
2. Leave out subplots.
What about writer’s block? 3. Be realistic.
You are the source of your own blocks, which means you 4. Examine your self-esteem.
have the power to eliminate them. Stop resisting and go 5. Trust yourself.
for it. Numerous working moms and overextended col-
lege students have done it! ��
Working “as if ” means that you keep writing—that you
What if I’m still not sure I can do it?
keep moving forward with your story—without stop-
�e biggest obstacle to accomplishing this goal is your
ping to rewrite every time you change your mind about
own inner critic and personal psychology. �is guide
a character, plot or setting detail. Instead, you take notes
will do its absolute best to help you be a successful
on a worksheet to stay on task while still remembering
writer, giving you critical information and techniques
changes you’ll need to make later. As new ideas or new
in 100-plus pages, but you have to put your butt in the
directions come to mind, jot them down—in an orga-
chair and start typing. We are all di�erent, and our
needs change as we grow and develop as writers, so use nized way, of course—and keep writing as if you’ve
what works for you. made those changes already. �ere is an excellent rea-
But be open to new solutions, techniques and exer- son for doing this, one that every 30-day writer should
cises. Many are included in this guide. In the end it keep in mind:
really doesn’t matter how “good” or “bad” your manu- You cannot write and rewrite at the same time if you
script turns out to be. First dra�s are �rst dra�s, no mat- want to �nish a book in 30 days.
ter who writes them, or how fast! Instead, it is all about Now, all of the changes you come up with while in
the journey. You’re reaching for a lo�y goal, and as you the process of writing are no longer taking up valuable
meet and face down your blocks and your resistance, space in your brain, and you are free to keep moving
you will �nd that what you’ve learned along the way has forward, free to generate more ideas, free to keep get-
helped you to grow in more ways than just as a writer. ting those pages done. Your new ideas and revision
notes can be stored safely on worksheets until you have
�� nished your �rst dra� without interruption. To keep
Is it really feasible to write a book in 30 days? In a word: things organized, it is best to break your notes down
yes. But there are �ve secrets you need to know before- by act—a traditional three-act structure consisting of
hand in order to be successful. Few books or courses beginning, middle and end—and then supply speci�c
that profess to teach the art of “quick dra�ing” actually details under the following categories: character, plot,
� ��
Is it really feasible to write a book in 30 days? In a word:

yes. But there are �ve secrets you need to know beforehand
in order to be successful.
subplot and setting. Let’s take a closer look at what such your story ... the very possibilities that necessitated the
notes might consist of. change in the �rst place.
�� Let’s say for some reason you want— You are free, in other words, to write.
or, more likely, need—to change the name of your char- �� You are absorbed in your writing, and all of
acter from Anne to Barbara, and you want her to be a a sudden you realize you should have included a �ght
pianist instead of a waitress. Instead of going back and scene between Chris and Mike two chapters ago. It is
changing every page that contains a reference to Anne the only way this current scene you are writing will
or her occupation, instead you jot down: make sense. No problem. Jot down on your worksheet:
Change Anne to Barbara and make sure she’s a pianist in

Fight scene between Chris and Mike in Chapter 2. �e
all of her scenes, check pages 3–42.
outcome is X because Y. �e point is Z. See page 132.
�en you do the obvious: You use the name Barbara
You can also get out your red pen and write on the page
from this point forward and write as if she is a pianist.
you wish to include this scene:
Likewise, you can keep similar notes for changes to
a character’s background. If you need, for example, to
Insert �ght scene here—see worksheet notes.
change the childhood issues for one character so you
can make her “gritty and jaded” when she goes home for
Whew! �is is such a quick way to get that idea
Christmas, make the appropriate note on your work-
down and keep moving forward. �ink about it: If you
sheet and write her as if she were “gritty and jaded” from
this point on. stopped right now to write out that whole �ght scene,
�is type of change may—and probably will—a�ect how much time would it take you? Are you the type of
other characters, like her parents, so make sure to note writer who might get sidetracked by it? Sometimes we
any implications the change might have in terms of go back to change one thing and then �nd our minds
relationships between characters, motivations, histo- wandering toward new ideas on top of new ideas. �is is
ries and so on ... all concerns for you to address later, classic writing self-sabotage! Don’t let that happen; just
in revision. keep your notes, keep them clear and keep moving for-
If this seems at �rst to be too-obvious advice—per- ward. Use the Story Tracker worksheet on page 102 of
haps a bit too easy or too hard, depending on your tem- this guide.
perament—consider the reason for addressing charac-
ter changes in this way: You’ve reached a problematic
��
point in your story, a point where the story has dictated Many writers churn out a quick version of their stories
a change must be made, and you’ve made it. Now, rather with subplots to be added later. �is really depends on
than retreating to your previous pages to make metic- your writing style and level of mastery. Most of us do
ulous corrections—essentially “bookkeeping”—you better if we can just focus on the main characters and
are free to explore the possibilities presented to you by plotline, and race through to the end. �ere is nothing

wrong with that. So feel free to leave out the subplots three can become ... well, you get the idea. �en you
for now. might �nd yourself dreading the process and �nally giv-
As you write, you can keep track of what subplots you ing up. Don’t let yourself have a bad day. Try to �nd the
might return to in revision: bright spot. Stay positive.
Add subplot: Cari meets with hero to plan the surprise ��
party Alex doesn’t know about. Never guilt or shame yourself into writing, or put your-
self down too harshly for not writing. Guilt and shame
And then continue on with the main plot. �is way, you
never helped anyone’s self-esteem, and self-esteem is
know where you want the subplots to �t in and how
what you need to complete a book in a month.
they will progress, but you don’t waste a lot of time
Self-esteem allows you to commit to your goals, and
and brainpower working on them just yet. Why not go
it allows you to make time for what is important to you.
ahead and write them? Because subplots are always the
Self-esteem means you can say to yourself, “I matter,
�rst to go, or change, during a rewrite.
and so do my goals.”
Once you get to the end, you will be able to see:
It’s okay to be dedicated to others in your life, but
• where the story is a little slow
you still have to take care of your needs. Sometimes
• where things don’t make sense
setting a good example is the greatest thing you can do
• what new information needs to be added
for your loved ones. Many kids would prefer to have
• what characters need to be changed or dropped.
a happy, ful�lled mother rather than a fancy home-
Can you see that working too much on subplot can be
cooked meal.
a waste of time? Even if you keep all the basic subplots
If you agree with more than two of the following
you create during these 30 days, they will still change;
statements, your writing self-esteem could use a boost.
the main plot will require them to change because it will
• I blame someone or something for not being
change and grow as you write—new settings, new char-
able to write.
acters, new information, new transitions, new purpose,
• I constantly blame myself for not writing enough,
new goals, new subtext. �e subplots will have to re�ect
even if it’s not my fault.
these changes. Don’t waste your time unless it is abso-
• Instead of �nding time to write, I do what others
lutely necessary. You’re in charge here, so do what you
want even when I don’t want to.
think is best. Just know that it is okay to forego the sub-
• When someone criticizes my work, I feel like
plots when writing a dra� in 30 days.
they’re criticizing me.
�� • I’m reluctant to set and announce my writing
Most of all, you need to be realistic—if you work two goals for fear that I won’t attain them or that I
jobs, have kids to care for and have health issues, don’t will be ridiculed.
push yourself to �nish a book in 30 days. Instead, resolve • I’m �lled with big writing dreams and goals, but
to complete a story synopsis. A synopsis is an unstruc- I just can’t get started or follow through.
tured outline. You work out the beginning, middle and • I give up at the �rst hint of rejection.
end, and develop characters and their goals. You also • I feel like I have no control over my time and how I
work a lot on your opening lines and hooking readers. spend it; writing is always pushed to the wayside.
You can write anything within this 30-day time period. • I really don’t see that I have many choices in life
Be gentle on yourself and your creativity will continue to do what I want to do.
to �ow. Set a goal too high and the creative blocks will Boost your self-esteem by focusing on your
be more di�cult than ever! strengths. �is is why many writing teachers tell you
Be careful about getting too upset about setbacks and to stay away from negative people when writing and
delays. Remember, one bad day can become three, and keep your work to yourself in the beginning. Listen
� ��
to them! Once you have �nished your manuscript and angry, accusatory or anxious if we trusted ourselves to
are happy with it, you can then sort through criticism deal with whatever might come up, in any situation. So,
from others. Until then, keep your work to yourself. visualize yourself dealing well with your biggest writ-
Or tell the person looking at your work you only want ing fear (perhaps rejection) right now. Imagine how you
positive feedback for now. will handle it and overcome it.
You need to feel as if it is your right to have these 30 Every day is a new day, a new chance to begin again.
days. You need to stand up for yourself. Writing down Give yourself permission to mess up one day, and
your feelings can help you to crystallize what really mat- make it a good one! Does that take some of the pres-
ters to you. sure o�?
We all have lives to lead; we all have reasons for not
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writing. Writing a book in 30 days will test your dedi-
Here’s the big question: Do you trust yourself? Some- cation to becoming an author, so if you can’t articulate
times we don’t achieve our goals because we devalue our why you’re writing, then you just might run in to trou-
capacity to deal with whatever may arise when reaching ble. To prepare you for this, let’s pause here to explore
for them. Trusting yourself may be the greatest gi� you your motivation and commitment to writing:
can give and receive. When you stop the worry by say- • Why do you want to write?
ing, “I trust myself to deal with whatever comes up,” the • Why do you have to write?
anxiety li�s away. Here are some remedies to ward o� • How will your life be di�erent a�er you �nish
the most common writing worries: this manuscript? What will change?
What if this manuscript isn’t any good? Even if that • How will your life be di�erent a�er you �nish three
were the case, you have the ability to rewrite it. Trust manuscripts? (Will you feel like a “real” writer?)
that you did your best. If you honestly do your best, • How will you feel about yourself a�er you �nish this
there should be no room for regret. manuscript? (Will you have more con�dence?)
What if I get rejected? Don’t see your manuscript as • How will this feeling help you accomplish other
an extension of yourself; instead, trust that you will be things in life?
able to deal with rejection if it happens. Trust yourself
to honestly recognize when rejection is constructive ��
and when it is hurtful. Learn from constructive criti- This is a fast-paced, intense world, but when you
cism and do better next time. have a guide, you will find fun instead of stress. After
What if I can’t reach the goal? Sometimes, it’s easier— all, you’ve set out to do something few ever risk
and more comfortable—to sabotage yourself and blame doing—accomplish your dream. You will finish that
others. When you actively prevent yourself from suc- novel and give life to your characters, and you will
ceeding, it’s easier to accept failure. Instead of working do it in 30 days’ time. It may not be a perfect man-
against yourself, if you don’t reach your goal, then trust uscript, ready for publication, but it will be a com-
that you will take an honest look at the reasons why this pleted manuscript.
happened and adjust your goals for next time. Don’t Just imagine for a moment that your manuscript is
simply beat yourself up over it. �nally written. Go ahead—visualize your completed
What if I feel really anxious about this 30-day task? manuscript right now. Doesn’t that feel great? Many
Trust yourself to deal with whatever may come up these writers have written a book in 30 days; some have
30 days, and then just go for it. Really now, what is the done it in one week. So commit to your project, and to
worst that can happen? You won’t �nish a manuscript. yourself, and let’s get started!
We’re not talking life and death here!
Most of our writing blocks come from lack of self- ��
trust, pure and simple. We wouldn’t get upset, worried, ��

7 TIPS
FOR TIME MANAGEMENT
Stop making excuses. Everyone has time to write—as long
as you have the right mindset. Here’s how to get it.
��
“Guard well your spare moments. �ey are like uncut diamonds.
Discard them and their value will never be known. Improve them
and they will become the brightest gems in a useful life.”
—Ralph Waldo Emerson
T
oo many writers use lack of time as an excuse not to write. When
you say you don’t have the time, what you are really saying is,
“Something else is more important right now than writing.”
Many parents with a thousand things on their to-do list find
time to write; writing is just number one thousand and one. Nora Roberts
had a lot on her plate when she started writing—still does—yet she’s found
the time to pen more than a 150 novels. How does she, or how does any
author, take on the daily duties of life and of writing at the same time?
Successful authors manage their time, pure and simple.
��
The easiest way to create a new habit is to make it one of the first things
you do each day. As each new day progresses, you can be pulled in a num-
ber of different directions. There are simply too many distractions that
come on once the day is set in motion, not to mention fatigue.
Time management is really self-management.
What you resolve to do first thing—or at least early in the morning—
you will do. It is so much easier to sit down, write a page or two, then
conduct your daily business.
��
Have you heard of the Pareto principle, or the 80-20 rule? It is the prin-
ciple that 20 percent of your time and effort generates 80 percent of the
� ��
results, or that 80 percent of what you accomplish is you’ve got it. Your being happy is the only change
caused by 20 percent of your effort. Most things in they’ll notice.”
life were found to be distributed this way, like the dis- —Dr. Mira Kirshenbaum
tribution of wealth: 80 percent of all the money goes The point Dr. Kirshenbaum is making is that, while
to 20 percent of the people. Another example is the writing may be important to you, few people in your
number of writers to the percentage of total books life will see it as important. Many will just see it as
sold: 80 percent of books are sold by 20 percent of an unnecessary indulgence. So just find the time any
the authors. way you can and take it.
So, if 20 percent of your effort causes 80 of your
accomplishments, wouldn’t it be great if you focused ��
on that 20 percent of result-getting effort for 100 per- Henry Kissinger once said: “There cannot be a crisis
cent of the time? Of course it would! Think of all the next week. My schedule is already full.”
free time you would have if you had to do only a frac- For many of us, things that aren’t scheduled don’t
tion, the most effective part, of the daily grind. We all get done. We sometimes live from appointment to
waste time and effort every single day. We do things appointment, trying to squeeze little tasks in between.
that will get us nowhere, and that won’t yield any In fact, without an appointment, some of us just don’t
value in our lives. This stuff takes up 80 percent of know what to do and often fall victim to another per-
our effort if we let it. This means that you must: son’s request. So, make an appointment with yourself
• drop all that busywork that gets you nowhere so you can fill your time with writing.
• drop all the negative friends who drag you down When you have concrete plans, it is much easier to
• drop all the manuscripts you don’t really love, say no to others. You don’t have to make up excuses.
or those that you started just because you “I have a 1 �.�. appointment” is all the explanation
thought they were marketable needed. Only you need to know what, when and
• drop all your high expectations (you don’t have to where you are going.
have the cleanest house on the block—one writer Appointments tell your creative brain that writing
was spending six hours every Saturday cleaning is important. They also tell your muse to get ready:
her house, and she had no kids or pets!) Work time is coming.
When you focus on things that don’t truly matter to
��
you, you are working within the 80 percent of effort
Again, from Dr. Mira Kirshenbaum: “Use money to
that won’t get you the 20-percent results you want.
buy time by using money to get people to do things
You want to write a book (it’s your goal—or you
for you that will save you time.”
wouldn’t be reading this, right?). Focus on this every
Okay, maybe you don’t have tons of money to get
day for the next month and you will be happy! How
babysitters and hire maids, but could you barter for
wonderful will you feel when you hold that manu-
some of these things? Buy frozen dinners? Whittle
script in your hands? Eliminate your 80 percent of
your cleaning routine down to a bare minimum, once-
wasted effort. Keep track of your writing time every
a-week chore?
day. Make it a habit to write down the number of
How much money is spent on hobbies and enter-
hours you spend on each writing project. Or track
tainment in this country? Billions of dollars. Yet when
word or page counts. it comes to finding the time to write, we are reluctant
to spend any money at all to do it. Why is this? Most
��
hobbies, desires and activities cost something to par-
“Don’t ask for time for yourself. If you ask, people take in it. And these things usually are not part of our
can say no. If you just do it, then you’ve done it and lifelong dreams and goals. They most certainly don’t

have much of a chance of giving us a return on our to be a people pleaser. Usually the problem is that we
investment. So what’s the problem? are afraid of conflict. We think, “What will this per-
One writer I know spends $80 a month on a hair- son do or say if I don’t help out?”
cut, yet he can’t imagine splurging on a new notebook Well, if you can’t stand con�ict in life, then you sure
to jot down his ideas. For $30 a month, he could have won’t be able to write con�ict on the page. Con�ict
a new laptop computer to write when he has to travel is what stories are made of, so get used to it. Enjoy it.
for work, but there is no way he will ever buy it. When writers can’t stand to do bad things to their char-
It’s all about choices. Remember the financial gurus acters, they usually are terri�ed of con�ict. �ese writ-
out there talking about forgoing a latté every day to ers rarely have successful careers. Be assertive!
put that money in the bank? If you stopped treating This tip is also all about sticking to your guns,
yourself to that daily latté, you would have more than because once you say no to someone, you have to
$100 extra cash every month. Imagine if you factored stand firm. If you backpedal, you will lose momen-
in the price of a daily muffin. That would be more tum for saying no again in the future. Be true to your
than $200 every month. What is your “latté” expense? word and to yourself. If you say no, it means no.
Make it your writing expense now. Also be careful of maybes. Sometimes we feel guilty
for saying no, so we instead decide to say maybe to
��
get out of an uncomfortable situation. Don’t do it.
Every time someone or something comes into your
Maybes only lead other people on. It leaves them
life, hold it up to your list of priorities and see if you
thinking there is hope and that they can wear you
still want to talk to that person or do that activity.
down. It also shows them that you devalue your other
Talking to your angry, gossiping neighbor can take
commitments and aren’t sure of yourself. Always say
valuable time away from your family and your writ-
no firmly and directly. If you really feel bad, say, “No,
ing goals.
not until I am finished with a current commitment.
I know a writer who realized she spent four hours
Please feel free to check in with me later.”
a day watching television. She never saw it before, but
We have so much more time available to us now
logging her time made it clear. Were watching soaps
and talk shows worth not finishing her manuscript? than at any other time in history. There was a time
“No way!” she said. “They weren’t even that inter- when women spent 10 hours doing the laundry by
esting.” (She’s now happily published and occasion- hand; now, we just pop it into a machine. Where did
ally records her favorite shows to watch at night.) those 10 hours go?
Write down a list of your main priorities so you Studies show we actually have too much time available
will know where to draw the line when requests are to us, and we squander it. We �ll our days with mean-
made for your time. Once you know your priorities ingless tasks. We have never been so free, yet failed to
in life, write down a list of things that take up your realize the extent of our freedom. We have never had so
time and are not on your priority list. much time, yet felt we had so little. Modern life bullies
Can you get rid of the things that aren’t priorities? us to speed up our lives ... but going faster only makes
If not, can you make small appointments to do these us feel like we’re always behind.
things so they don’t take up too much of your time? �e trick is to know both your “to-do” and “not to-do”
Can you delegate them to others? list, to know your wants as well as your don’t-wants. You
want to write, so act and plan accordingly.
��
Why do so many of us have trouble just saying no? ��
Because most of us have been programmed to say yes, ��
� ��
HOW TO
SET WRITING GOALS
YOU’LL ACTUALLY KEEP
Don’t start that manuscript without knowing

what motivates you, and committing to paper
what you intend to accomplish.
��

A
s a writer, you are a self-employed creative project you pursue re�ects who you are and what you
professional. You create a product (a manu- want your story to encompass.
script) and try to sell it. �at is a business, Take a few minutes to think about the things—the
and all businesses need a plan. Writing values, the characteristics, the beliefs—that matter most
down your goals is the �rst (and most important) step to you:
to formulating one. • What are you passionate about?
As writers, we always seem to have ideas bouncing • What gives you energy and motivates you?
around in our heads. If we chased a�er every one of • What keeps showing up again and again in your
those ideas, we would never get anything accomplished. stories or the stories you love to read?
You know the old saying: Fail to plan, and you plan to If you don’t have a �rm understanding of what you’re
fail. It really is true; ask any successful person, and she passionate about, developing your writing goals can be
will tell you that once she wrote down her goals, things very hard to do. You’ve got to tackle the big questions:
really started to happen. Somehow putting things down Who am I? What genre should I specialize in? How do I
on paper makes them real. �e subconscious mind is want to be remembered? Many writers have never even
really impressed by it and will usually fall in line and considered these questions. �e answers to these and
help out. Writing down your goals also makes you other questions help you �nd your own unique way to
think deeply about them. Self-improvement guru Gene execute story ideas.
Donohue puts it another way: “�e di�erence between If you want to stand out in the slush pile, this is
a goal and a dream is the written word.” extremely important, so pay attention. Let’s take the
answers to questions you just completed and go a
�� little further:
�e �rst step in goal setting is identifying the right proj- • What is important to you creatively? Do you
ect. To choose the right project, you must �gure out want to educate? Entertain? Scare?
who you are as a writer, or what you’re most passion- • Do you have a personal cause or agenda that
ate about—and work that passion into your story. It is de�nes you? (Animal rescue? Global warming?)
important to do this before developing your story idea • What types of books do you enjoy? Movies? Music?
because your passion will—or should—have a direct • What types of stories did you like as a child?
in�uence on the idea. Why? Once you’ve identi�ed your passions, it’s time to
�ere are no shortages of ideas. You cannot copy- start �guring out how to express them in your story.
right an idea because it is not, by itself, uniquely yours. Remember, if you have an emotional connection to the
It is the execution of that idea that makes all the di�er- material you’re writing, it will be that much easier for
ence, and that is where goals come into play. Your goals you to stay invested over the long haul and reach your
should be detailed enough to ensure that the type of goals. Beth Mende Conny, a wonderful writing coach
� ��
�e �rst step in goal setting is identifying the right project.

To choose the right project, you must �gure out who you
are as a writer, or what you’re most passionate about.
and founder of WriteDirections.com, came up with the You remember, too, that while your book may not
following exercise that I have found to be very helpful in have changed the world, it touched lives. Certainly, it
capturing the essence of a story idea. touched yours. It was, as you now know, your way of
leaving your mark on the world, your way of saying, “I
�� was here. I mattered.”
Imagine yourself older, not just by a few years, but by
decades. You’re on a porch in a rocking chair, rocking �e title of that book was:
slowly but enjoyably. It’s a lovely day—bright, warm
sun, knock-your-socks-o� blue sky, the kind of day that
makes you want to sit and rock forever. And it was about:
Lazily, your eyes sweep the horizon, the vast expanse
of grass that gentle �ows into a distant range of so�, wel-
�is is a beautiful exercise, and by writing the title
coming mountains. You’re feeling peaceful, re�ective as
and what your book was about, you now have some idea
you think back on this gloriously crazy but interesting
thing called life. of who you are as a writer. You don’t necessarily have to
You remember all you’ve done, from �rst steps to �rst write this book now. In fact, you may never write this
kisses to the �rst time you realized you were a grown-up. manuscript. �is exercise is about getting in touch with
You draw to you the faces of those who touched your the elements of who you are as a writer. Within your
life, so�ened its rough edges, those you loved with an answer you will see certain topics, genres, ideas and
aching heart. directions that best suit you.
You think of favorite places and things: your room as
a child, a piece of jewelry still tucked away in a bedroom
��
drawer. Your mind si�s through these memories as if “If your success is not on your own terms, if it looks good
through a box of photographs, each a vivid reminder of to the world but does not feel good in your heart, it is not
where you’ve been, what you’ve done, and who you’ve success at all.”
become. You understand that you won’t be in this rocker
—Anna Quindlen
or on this porch forever. Life passes quickly … too quickly.
But with this bit of knowledge comes another—you As your passion and story idea merge, be careful you
know now, in a way you’ve never grasped before, the don’t limit yourself. Let’s say you want to write a book
importance of leaving some part of yourself to the world. that’s about “a strong heroine who overcomes obstacles
You know that you were put on this earth for a reason, and learns to love herself.” �is doesn’t mean you have
and while you may not know the answer in full yet, you to write chic-lit; it just means that maybe your stories,
know that in part, your purpose was in some way ful- even if your genre (or editor) calls for a male action hero,
�lled by the writing of your book. You remember it with should have strong heroines in them, as well as women
pride—how writing it demanded your best, making you who overcome obstacles. Can you write a fantasy with
draw on strengths you never knew you had. this? Yes. Can you write a horror novel with this? Yes.

�e answer you provided in the Rocking Chair • Actually write down your writing goals!
Exercise, which may evolve over time as you evolve, is • Revise your writing goals as you grow and devel-
the core idea and theme of your work. It is what really op as a writer. Every 6–12 months is good, though
interests you enough—and therefore motivates you—to you will do it more o�en in the beginning.
put your butt in the chair and write. Start small so you don’t get overwhelmed. Just write
Now that you have some insight into who you are as a down your core writing goal for the next 30 days. Make
writer, answer the following questions to see if your cur- it simple and easy to accomplish. �en if you reach your
rent project represents a blend of your passions: goal, or even surpass it, you will have given yourself a
• If you had to describe your work as a whole in a nice con�dence boost.
single line, what would that line be? (Heartfelt Want to write 100 pages in a month? �at seems like a
stories that make you cry? Smart, steamy ro- lot … but it’s really 25 pages a week, or, better yet, about
mances? Hardcore heroes who risk everything?) three to four pages a day. �is doesn’t seem like too
• How should your work be remembered? much, and if you happen to miss a day, well, you’ve only
• Which genre is best for your writing style and fallen behind by three pages. Surely there’s no reason to
interests?
beat yourself up over that!
Does your current project meet most of your answers to
When things get tough and you feel like giving up,
the above questions? Is this project in line with who you
you can tell yourself that you only have to write four
are as a writer? Agents, publicists and publishers also
pages today. Write them as quickly (and as horribly) as
want to know this about you. �ey want to know what
you need to, but write them. If your goal breaks down
makes you di�erent from all the other writers out there.
to two pages a day … well, you really can’t argue much
�ey also want to know how to market your work. �ey
with that. You could write those during commercials.
want something they can sink their teeth into.
No excuses.
��
Here are a few crucial tips on goal setting:
��
Make sure you reveal your goals only to those who will
• Make sure your writing goal is something you
personally want for yourself. Make sure it is your encourage you. Some friends and family members will
goal and not something you think you have to always see you as you used to be—the “non-writer.” It
do to become successful, like write for the cur- is very common for a family unit to discourage change
rent market trends, or write something because among its members, even if it is for a member’s bene�t.
your mom always wanted you to write it. (Uncle When one member changes, it can stir up too many
Joe’s life may be funny, but is it 300-pages funny? things for the others. �ey may be forced to look at
Do you care?) areas of their lives that they have yet to change for
• Make sure your writing goals don’t work against themselves. Many people will �ght this sort of self-
each other. You can’t write epic novels and ex- exploration. Be sure to surround yourself with sup-
pect to write �ve novels a year. portive allies.
• Make sure your writing goals don’t work against As the saying goes: A little child can knock down a
your life in general. You can’t write 20 romance sapling oak tree before it has grown strong roots, but
novels this year if your other goal is to travel the once the oak has grown tall enough, almost nothing can
world by boat with �ve friends. knock it down. Establish your roots �rst, then go out
• Always create positive writing goals. Write what there to network and share in your dreams.
you will do, not what you won’t.
• Keep your writing goals speci�c, but leave some ��
wiggle room for creativity. ��
� ��
U NC OV E R I NG
E S H S T O RY I D E A S
FR
ion,
well as your imaginat
Tap your daily life, as
acters and plots.
for novel-worthy char
��

E
very novel you’ve ever read—including that
one that felt so real, you were surprised when ��
you closed it to �nd you were sitting on your
��
couch or propped up in bed—began in the
��
same simple way: with a �eeting thought or image that
��
caught the writer’s attention, held it for a moment and
��
led him to begin asking, “What if … ?”
��
I don’t mean that the writer began debating the idea
intellectually, trying to complicate the idea on purpose.
� �
Rather, the writer witnessed something every day that
led him to begin daydreaming, not just asking ques- ��
tions but imagining possible answers, constructing sce-
��
narios. Writing a novel begins not in a moment of work
but a moment of play, with an intriguing idea or image ��
inspiring the mind toward unexpected leaps and unan- ��
��
ticipated connections.
For those of us stealing time to write, the implica- ��
tion should be heartening: Your work doesn’t begin the ��
moment you sit down in front of the computer, bor- ��
ing down on the blank screen, wondering what you ��
should write about and trying to “come up” with some-
thing. �ere are story ideas all around us—ideas rich ��
enough to sustain a lifetime of work—if we’re willing to ��
pay close attention to those things we glimpse out of the
corner of our eye, as John Updike once put it, and then ��
let our imaginations linger.
��
Of course, not everything we glimpse will be enough
to form the basis of a novel. What makes a novel idea
sustainable is the degree to which it contains, or at least
so we can discuss it. “Racist suicide-hotline volunteer”
suggests, all other aspects of the book: character, con�ict,
once prompted 45 minutes of discussion on its own, get-
plot, tone, theme and more. Put another way, the best
ting laughter at times and, at others, thoughtful silence.
ideas already have the potential for a full world. Drawing
We’d come up with a pretty full picture of that twisted,
out that potential, building on it in ways both surprising
pitiable character by the end of the discussion; maybe
and inevitable, is the focused work of the novelist.
one day one of those students will write his story.
�� Occasionally a student will call out a combination
To illustrate, let’s take a look at a fairly clear-cut exercise that seems a likely �t and which, for that very reason,
I use for my creative writing students to get them think- ends up being rather useless as grounds for �ction …
ing about the way initial ideas suggest the larger story. “kindhearted nun,” for example, or “vain supermodel.”
(See the sidebar on this page.) When such an obvious pairing is made, other students
When I bring this exercise to a class, it usually takes usually chime in on why the pair won’t work: We expect
on the feeling of a game, as it should. I ask students for our nuns to be kindhearted, just as we expect our super-
combinations that stand out as interesting or compel- models to be vain (we’re speaking generally here), and
ling, and they call out whatever catches their attention thus there’s nothing surprising or particularly interesting
� ��
in the combination. We’d be writing caricature instead of could any reader identify with, regardless of whether or
character. �ere’s little there to catch or keep our attention. not she’s ever been in this exact situation?
Sometimes a student will raise her hand and ask why And there you have it: plot, character, con�ict and
Column A is such a bummer: racist, vain, suicidal, neurotic. theme. We also have a setting, which we’ll want to do some
Would it kill me to make a column where happier things research on (get thee to a nunnery!), and a tone, which is
are going on? To which I respond: It wouldn’t kill me, but getting pretty dark. We also have a supporting cast to begin
it’d probably kill our story before it started. Fiction thrives thinking about, most notably in the pretty young nun.
on con�ict, and a workable story idea is one in which the
con�ict is clear and present in the basic premise. ��
Again, “kindhearted nun” gives us nothing besides what Once you start recognizing the story ideas that pres-
we already know, but what about jealous nun? Jealous of ent themselves almost daily—and paying attention to
whom? Jealous over what, exactly, and what might this where they lead you—you’ll want to keep track of them
jealousy lead her to do? Maybe, and we’re just thinking and recognize which ones might suggest workable sto-
out loud, she’s jealous of a younger nun in her convent ries. To that end, you’ll want to engage in the following:
and her closeness to God (and notice that as soon as we ��Get in the habit of writing your
have a younger nun, our �rst nun becomes older). ideas down in a journal so you’ll remember them later.
As we begin to ask and then answer these questions, the �is should be something small and convenient enough
ideas, digressions, wrong turns and occasional direct hits to keep with you at all times; even a back-pocket-sized
begin to form a story by addressing four basic problems: notebook will do.
1. What does the combination really suggest in terms ��When you come across a new story
of what might happen? idea—or, if you already have an idea you’re pondering—
2. What would be motivating or driving our main put it to the same kind of test as the example from the
character in such a situation? exercise, seeing how the idea begins to bring up other
3. What would be opposing the character in the situ- elements of story (character, con�ict, motivation, plot,
ation? (�is could, and probably should, prompt many setting and so on). Does the initial idea or concept lead
di�erent answers, some of them small and personal in to these elements, building step by step? If not, can you
scope, others large.) �gure out where the idea breaks down? Does the prem-
4. What are the emotions evoked by or from the premise suggest a character? Does the character have a clear
ise that we might consider universal? In other words, what motivation? Does the motivation suggest a potential
con�ict in the story? And so on.
��
��
�� It’s true that story ideas will come to you if you learn to
�� pay attention to what’s going on around you and recog-
�� nize those moments when your mind has begun to cre-
�� atively wander. But there are also other ways, and places,
�� you might look for inspiration when you need a boost.
�� Sometimes a compelling story idea comes
�� not from any conversation overheard, or anything you catch
�� a glimpse of, but from a little voice that whispers a strange,
�� interesting line in your ear … say, “I have always had an
�� irrational fear of �rst kisses,” or “Her husband had become
�� hooked on daytime soaps,” or “For as long as I’d known her,
Jenny had claimed that her dream was to become the ninth

Mrs. Larry King.” A good �rst line begins to suggest char-
acter, con�ict, plot, tone and theme the same way a compel- ��
ling initial idea or image does. For example, what do you
��
see present or suggested in the following �rst lines?
��
In the town, there were two mutes and they were ��
always together. (Carson McCullers, �e Heart Is a ��
Lonely Hunter) ��
��
Mother died today. Or maybe yesterday, I can’t be sure.
��
(Albert Camus, �e Stranger)
��
Something is wrong in the house. (Kathryn Davis, Hell)
��A well-written headline contains enough fact, it o�en takes me longer to read a great book than a
possibility to get our imaginations working in the right bad one, simply because every few pages I have to stop
direction (since the headline writer wants us to be to jot down some idea inspired by the text.)
intrigued enough to wonder about the story behind the It’s true that you might want to avoid reading other
headline and read it). For the �ction writer, we need not writers when you’re in the midst of your own book, for
read the piece that goes along with a good headline—and fear of being in�uenced too much or losing the sound
in fact we probably shouldn’t. Instead, the headline will of your voice; that’s a matter of personal preference. But
make us want to know the story behind it and begin writ- reading consistently, and reading as a writer, can be a
ing it. What really happened isn’t as important to us as constant source of inspiration. Find writers you love,
what might happen.
then �nd the writers they love. Reading is the best cre-
Here are a few real-world examples to consider, any
ative writing course you’ll ever take.
one of which might suggest a sustainable story idea:
�� Finding beautiful art that
17 Burn at Same Time to Break Record speaks to you—no matter what kind—tweaks your art-
S.C. Cheerleader Hunts, Kills 10-Foot-Long Alligator ist’s brain and opens you up for creative thinking. So, if
you ever �nd yourself bere� of inspiration, go out and
Game Show Looks to Convert Atheists
see a �lm that’s been well reviewed, or rent a classic �lm
Jedi �rown Out of Grocery Store you’ve never seen. Take a weekend trip to an art show
�� Sometimes inspiration for a book will begin or go browse the art books at the local bookseller. Put
before you’ve even hit the �rst chapter, with a title that on that classic album you haven’t heard in a while, turn
starts you thinking. I suspect the reason for this is that down the lights, and really listen to it (rather than hav-
good titles are o�en di�cult to come up with, so when ing it on as background noise while you run errands or
a good one comes along, it suggests possibilities imme- try to get chores done).
diately. Keep a page in your notebook just for title ideas.
One of them might bring a story along with it. ��
�� At the risk of sounding obvious, good ��
writers are �rst and foremost good readers. I realize �ere are two pieces of writing advice that are so perva-
that in our rushed lives, especially for writers with full- sive, so well known, that even non-writers have heard of
time jobs, it can sometimes be di�cult to slow down, sit them: “write what you know” and “show, don’t tell.” �e
down and enjoy a good book. But there can be nothing problem is, both are to some degree misleading—and
more instructive, nor more inspiring to your work, than even potentially damaging to the creative process—if
reading a book from an author who does it right. (In taken too literally.
� ��
In terms of your initial ideas and thinking about your characters’ plight that is identi�ably human. Finding that
story, “write what you know” can be tricky advice. �e rea- everyday human element, and using your own feelings
son for this is in how most interpret the expression: “Write and experiences to explore it further, is what takes a story
what I know? I’d better start thinking back to things that from a series of things that happen to a complete and
have happened to me in the past so I can write about them.” meaningful experience for both reader and writer. It’s
Such a writer then begins re�ecting on those personal not a process of telling people what you already know but
moments that had an impact on him or her—purely per- discovering what you know—and sometimes being sur-
sonal and subjective moments that don’t necessarily mean prised by what you �nd—through your characters.
anything to anyone besides the person remembering.
All of us have had the frustrating experience of try- ��
ing to explain something that aggravated us, or made us New novelists seem to have a particular hang-up about
happy, or upset us, to someone who wasn’t there, only making sure their idea has “never been done before.” If
to have our listener say “uh-huh” and glaze over. In such you have this worry, let me try and put your mind at
awkward moments, at least we have a sure�re exit strat- ease: It’s all been done before.
egy: “Well, you just had to be there.” But we don’t have �is might sound a bit depressing, at least initially, but
any such luxury when we try to take our personal, sub- once it sinks in you’ll �nd it rather liberating. �ere is no
jective experiences and make use of them in the public completely new, 100-percent-unique plot idea. �ere is
form of the novel. �e last line of your novel can’t be, no undiscovered or unheard-of theme or motivation. As
“Well, you just had to be there.” high-school English teachers used to say, and probably
Mining our real life for �ction can be problematic. still do, all of literature might be boiled down to a half-
In life, things o�en happen for no apparent rhyme or dozen con�icts, and as far as motivations go, there are
reason, and, more than that, we o�en do things for no still just seven Deadly Sins (and maybe as many virtues).
apparent reason, too. We act on impulse, behave in �e point is that it’s not the idea but the approach that
strange ways; we’re contradictory, inconsistent, con- makes a work original. �e Western canon has no short-
fusing or confused. �us, when we try to use our own, age of revenge stories, but there’s still only one Moby-Dick.
o�en-ba�ing personal experiences in �ction, the result Bookstores are �lled with coming-of-age novels—they
can be confusing for a reader. (Why did the character could make a complete section of them, if they wanted.
behave like that? I thought the character wanted [blank], What makes your book di�erent from every other
but then she forgot all about it.) Fiction, unlike life, book out there is that it’s been written by you. It forms,
has to be logical, has to build in meaning for a reader, and is formed by, a singular vision that’s uniquely yours
whereas life can be rather chaotic and disjointed. (even as a part of your vision has been informed by
But this isn’t to say that we don’t ever write what we other people’s visions, the books you’ve read, the litera-
know. In fact, every time we write we’re bringing some- ture that inspired you to write in the �rst place).
thing of ourselves and our personal hopes, fears and expe- So don’t get discouraged when you begin to think
riences to the text—in how we think about our charac- of books similar to yours, as you undoubtedly will, or
ters and their experiences, how we think about the ways when you discuss your story idea with someone who
we would react or feel in a certain situation. �is is how chimes in, without thinking, “Oh, it’s like [blank].” Just
we connect with our characters and stories—by �nding nod your head and say, “Sorta.” Because it probably is
something familiar in their motivations and con�icts, like a number of other books … but it’s also a particular
something we’ve felt before that has a bearing on the product of your distinctive vision and voice, which is
work, then exploring that feeling in the context of your what makes the work important.
story—and this is how our readers begin to connect with
our characters, too. Even if your story takes place on Mars, ��
in the way-distant future, there’ll be something about the ��

��
TO OUTLINE OR
NOT TO OUTLINE?
It’s one of the biggest questions facing every novelist.
Here are the pros and cons—plus �ve proven
outlining methods.
O
ne of the most common questions new �ction writers ask is,
Should I do a complete outline before I write? And if so, how
extensive should it be?
To put this in a little historical perspective, let us look at a
long-standing feud between the NOPs and the OPs.
�e NOPs are the “no outline” people. �ese happy folk love to frolic in
the daisies of their imaginations as they write. With nary a care, they let the
characters and images that sprout in their minds do all the leading. �ey fol-
low along, happily recording the adventures.
Ray Bradbury is a NOP. In Zen in the Art of Writing he says:
Plot is no more than footprints le� in the snow a�er your characters have
run by on their way to incredible destinations. Plot is observed a�er the fact
rather than before. It cannot precede action. �at is all Plot should ever be. It
is human desire let run, running, and reaching a goal. It cannot be mechani-
cal. It can only be dynamic.
�e joy of being a NOP is that you get to fall in love every day. But as in love
and life, there is heartache along the way.
�e heartache comes when you look back and see nothing resembling plot.
Some fresh writing, yes, but where is the cohesion? Some brilliant word gems
�ash, but they may be scattered over a plotless desert.
�e OPs—outline people—seek security above all. �ey lay out a plot
with as much speci�city as possible. �ey may use index cards, spread out
on the �oor or pinned to corkboard, and rework the pattern many times
before writing.
Or they’ll write a plot treatment, 50 pages written in the present tense.
�en they’ll edit that like they would a full manuscript. And only then will
they begin the actual novel.
� ��
Albert Zuckerman, an OP, says in Writing the prises. O�en, the best moments in a scene are those that
Blockbuster Novel: I never imagined ahead of time. In a way, I try to enter-
tain myself as much as I hope to entertain the reader.”
No sane person would think of setting out to construct
Jerry Jenkins is the author of the bestselling �ction series,
a skyscraper or even a one-family home without a
Le� Behind. Naturally for a project of that length, Jenkins
detailed set of plans. A big novel must have the literary
must have constructed a huge outline, so as not to get lost.
equivalent of beams and joists strong enough to sustain
He didn’t. “My structure is intuitive,” Jenkins says,
it excitingly from beginning to end, and it also must
“and I write the whole manuscript, beginning to end,
contain myriad interlocking parts fully as complex as
chronologically, bouncing from perspective to perspec-
those in any building type.
tive by instinct. I’m grati�ed people think it looks care-
�e value of the OP approach is that, with experience, fully designed, but it’s not blueprinted in advance.”
one can virtually guarantee a solidly structured plot. When readers ask him why he chose to kill o� their
�e highs and lows will come at the right time. �ere favorite character, Jenkins responds, “I didn’t kill him
are no unhappy tangents. o�; I found him dead.”
�e danger, however, is the lack of that freshness and
spontaneity the NOPs are known for. An OP may get to ��
a place where one of the characters is screaming to do My personal message to the OPs and the NOPs: Be true
something other than what’s written down on a scene to yourself, but try a little of the other guy’s method. You
card. �e OP �ghts the character, whipping him back may be delighted at what you come up with.
into submission. But in doing so, he may have missed For example, NOPs could look at their �rst dra�s as
the exact angle that would make his plot original. if they were big outlines! �at �rst dra� might be the
exploratory notes for a plot that works. Once it is done,
�� the NOP can step back and see what’s there and reformu-
�ere is no single, inviolable way to lay a �ctional foun- late the outline into something that is more plot solid.
dation. Some of the best writers out there have di�er- A simple way to do this is to read over your �rst dra�,
ent approaches. then write a two- or three-page synopsis. Now put on
Robert Crais, author of Hostage and �e Last Detective, your plotting hat and edit that synopsis until you come
is an OP, a self-described “plotter.” He likes to know as up with a roadmap for your story.
much as he can about the story and scenes he’s going to �en you’re ready to do a second dra� in NOP style.
write before he gets going. But his books are still action As Bradbury advises, don’t rewrite it, relive it.
packed and full of surprising twists. You OPs could work on your outlines as if they were
On the other side of the fence is NOP Elizabeth �rst dra�s. If you do a manuscript-style outline, write it
Berg, author of such titles as Range of Motion and Never with passion and a sense of play. Let things happen that
Change. She starts with a feeling rather than a roadmap. you don’t plan.
For her, the joy in writing �ction comes with the daily If you work with cards, generate whole bunches of scene
discoveries of things she did not know were inside her. ideas, even crazy ones. �en put the cards all together and
David Morrell, author of numerous bestsellers, takes a shu�e them. What sort of pattern does this suggest?
middle path. He likes to start a free-form letter to himself You can tighten your outline then, according to your
as the subject takes shape in his mind. He’ll add to it daily, OP instincts. But you’ll have generated some things that
letting the thing grow in whatever direction his mind takes couldn’t have come from a strictly le�-brained regimen.
him. What this method does is mine rich ore in the subcon- Any method will work so long as it is your method. But
scious and imagination, yielding deeper story structure. I would counsel you to do two things before you write.
But when it comes to the writing, says Morrell, “I try [1] Use the LOCK system. As explained in “Plot Made
to let the story’s drama carry me along and reveal sur- Simple” on page 59, these are the elements that give you a

solid foundation for your novel. If there is a glaring weak- Don’t worry, you will be allowed all the freedom
ness in your story, it will probably be revealed here. and joy of creation you desire. But you’ll be happy in
Work with the elements until they are strong enough the long run that you added a little order to your cre-
for you to consider writing a whole book. ative chaos.
[2] Write the back cover copy. When you are com- [1] Set yourself a writing quota. If you plan to �nish
fortable with your LOCK elements, move on to the writ- your novel in a month, this is almost mandatory. But
ing of your back cover copy. �is is the marketing copy even if not, each day you write, do not leave your writ-
that compels a reader to buy your book. �is is what you ing desk until you have completed your quota.
see on the back of paperback novels in your bookstore. If it’s going good, you press on and do more. You
What you want to do is create a few paragraphs have fun; you let your characters tell the story.
that excite your own interest, enough to compel you Can you go on and �nish a whole novel this way?
to move on to the next step. You can even pause at Certainly, but you will have a lot of rewriting and
this point and share your back cover copy with some rethinking to do. �at’s all right. Some writers like to
trusted friends to get their take on it. If no one can do it that way.
see the excitement in the story, you have the chance to [2] Begin your writing day by rereading what you
rework things before spending all that time writing an wrote the day before. I recommend you read your pre-
outline. For example: vious day’s work in hard copy. You may not be able to
make major changes or additions at this time if work-
Sam Jones is a cop who has fallen from grace. He’s battling
ing on a 30-day deadline—but you should take note of
the bottle and losing his family. �en he is assigned to the
things you might want to change in the future.
biggest murder case in years—the mayor has been killed
[3] One day per week, record your plot journey. Take
in a gruesome way.
time to record what you have done using a plot grid.
It seems open and shut, with a prime suspect—a polit-
ical rival—being the target of the investigation. It may What you are doing is using Ray Bradbury’s terms,
just be the case that brings Sam out of his darkness. recording the characters’ footprints in the snow. �is
But as he gets closer to the truth, things are not as will be incredibly useful to you later on.
clear as they �rst appeared. Not only that, but the killer You also use this grid to record dates and times so you
is stalking him and his family. �e message is clear— know at a glance how your plot is stacking up logically.
drop the investigation or lose your life. �ere you have it. �at wasn’t so painful, was it? Be glad.
Will Sam be able to stay alive long enough to �nd out You are still a NOP.
who really killed the mayor? Can he save his own family?
��
And if he does, what will the cost be?
There are as many ways to outline as there are writ-
Add plot elements to the back cover copy. You are get- ers. Most working OPs develop their own systems
ting more speci�c. Hone these paragraphs until you are over the years, picking and choosing from what other
bubbling over with excitement. writers do.
Now you’re ready for the next step—employing a I’ve written novels every which way, from NOP to OP
plotting system. and in between. So I feel quali�ed to o�er a selection of
systems for you to choose from. Try them out. See what
�� works for you. �at’s the way to go and grow.
You may think that if you are a pure NOP, there is no
such thing as a plotting system. ��
Not necessarily. In fact, you will bene�t greatly by Writers have been using index cards since index cards
going at your wild �ights of literary genius with a little were invented. I suppose they used slips of paper before
bit of le�-brain discipline. that. Blaise Pascal, the great genius of the 17th century,
� ��
was planning to write a huge treatise in defense of Carry around blank index cards in an envelope or
Christianity. He kept his notes on pieces of paper tied pocket. When you have free time or scheduled creative
up in little bundles. He died before he could start his time, take out the stack and start writing scene ideas.
magnum opus, but his notes were published as the Don’t think about structure yet. You’ll come up with
Pensées, one of the great books of the Western world. scenes in random order. Just let your mind play.
So index cards may be just right for you. And don’t think about what scenes you’ll keep. Later
�ere are so�ware programs that simulate index you’ll toss out the ones that don’t work (only don’t toss
cards and allow you to manipulate them on the screen. them out for good; put them in a discard pile because
Some writers �nd it a little too constricting, however, to you may want to come back to them at some point).
be bound by the parameters of a computer monitor. You also can make your scene cards more formal,
Personally I like the feel of the cards in my hands. I with a setting as the key indicator:
can take them with me anywhere. (�ere’s nothing wrong STARBUCKS
with being a bit of a Luddite when it comes to writing.) Bill confronts Stan about Monica.
With index cards, you can then spread them out before Fight.
you on the �oor, pin them to a big corkboard, or do what- Ex-Green Bay Packer Lyle throws Bill and Stan
ever else you want to do with them. Cards can be easily through window.
switched around or thrown away. You can put them in
your pocket and work on them while you’re sipping your �� Eventually, you’ll have a stack of
morning co�ee at the local café. If inspiration hits you scenes. You’ve done your LOCK work and written the
while you’re in the shower, you can towel o� and jot a back cover copy. You’re ready to start getting serious
note on an index card, and throw it on the pile. about structure.
Flexibility is the key with index cards, and if you tend �ink about your ending. You should have a possible
to be somewhat right-brained most of the time, index climactic scene in mind. Perhaps all you know is that
cards are a great way to harness your frequent bursts of you want your protagonist to win in a big way and you
genius. Later, with the help of your le� brain, you can want a certain kind of resonance. Fine. Put that down
lay out a solid story. on a card. �is will be your last, or next-to-last scene
��You can begin your scene cards card. Give it as much detail as you’re comfortable with.
at any point in the planning process. Perhaps you want �e point is to have something to shoot for.
to do some work on your LOCK elements (see page 59) �� Now spend some time thinking
or your characters. It doesn’t matter. What matters is about the major scenes that your plot will require. You
will no doubt have in mind a number of these. �ey
that you create a stack of scene ideas and then arrange
may be less than fully formed, but you have a feeling
them for structure.
about them. Give them as much detail as possible, but
Here is one suggested method. Spend a few hours
don’t sweat it.
coming up with vivid scenes in your mind and record-
Come up with a gripping opening scene (if you
ing these scenes on index cards. You don’t have to do
haven’t already), and put that on a card.
this all in one sitting. In fact, it’s better if you don’t. You’ll
�en �gure out the disturbance, and put that on a card.
�nd as you start collecting scenes that your writer-mind
Next, create the doorway of no return that leads into
will work in the background, and when you come back
Act II, and the second doorway that leads into Act III
to the cards, you’ll have ideas bubbling up to the surface
(see pages 56–62).
that will be exciting to you.
�� . You are now ready to lay out your
A scene card can be as simple as this:
cards for the �rst time. Use the �oor or a large table or
Monica drives to John’s house; chased by bikers. Saved wherever else you’re comfortable being the hovering
by Fireman Dan. god over your story.

Put your opening scene card on the le�, and your cli- �ere are variations upon the index card system. One
mactic scene card on the right. Put the disturbance card writer friend of mine, a very successful novelist, takes
near the opening, and the �rst doorway a bit a�er that. a long section of butcher paper and along the top puts
Put the second doorway card near the end. down the various beats of the three-act structure and
Now �ll in your story in between. Space out your big hero’s journey. She makes a long column out of each
scenes in the most logical order, usually meaning that of these beats. �en she gets di�erent colored Post-It
the scenes grow progressively more intense as you move notes, representing her major characters, and records
toward that last card. scenes on these. She then sticks them on the paper until
If there seems to be a gap between scenes, space that it becomes a symphony of colors.
needs �lling, put a blank card or cards there. Try to get At the end of the day, she rolls up the butcher paper
a feel for the rhythm of the story this way. and places it in a tube that is designed to hold large
You should be getting an idea of the big picture now. maps. �is tube has a strap so she can carry it over her
Your plot will begin to feel like a cohesive whole. shoulder. When she wants to work on it again, out it
��Play with these cards for at least comes, unrolling in all its glory.
a week. Add scenes and take scenes out. If you have �� Finally, you begin writing, scene by scene.
the sense that a certain scene is going to go in a certain I suggest that a�er each group of three or four scenes,
place, but you’re not sure yet what the details will be, you lay out your cards again. New ideas and twists may
put a blank card there. Maybe you want to have a reac- come to you. Create new cards if you want. Rearrange
tion scene following some intense action. You can write others. Add to what you’ve written on the cards.
“Reaction scene” and move on. It’s all up to you. You’ll �nd this system highly �exible
�at’s the beauty of the index card system. and creative.
You can get even fancier. If your plot involves mul-
tiple leads or numerous subplots, each of these can be ��
recorded on di�erent colored cards. Or you can get E.L. Doctorow compared his plotting to driving at night
sticky notes of di�erent colors to put on the cards as with the headlights on. You have an idea as to your direc-
codes. You can lay out the cards by color in straight lines, tion, but you can see only as far as the headlights. When
so the plots all run parallel to each other. �en, from you drive to that point you can see a little farther. And so
above, you can integrate the di�erent cards at di�erent on, until you reach your destination.
points in a single line, and there is your master plot. In other words, you can outline as you roll along.
Or you can put your cards out in a plotline and char- And why not? Nothing in the writers’ rule book—even
acter line. �e plotline records the action, and a char- the OP’s rule book—says you have to outline completely
acter line records what’s going on inside the character before you begin writing. In fact, even for an OP, that
along the way. You can then create a nice character arc may not be the way to go.
for your story. Why not? Because there is so much you discover
Once you’ve got a pretty solid order, number the about your story and characters as you write that it is
cards in pencil. �en you can get them back in order sometimes best not to have a comprehensive outline
a�er you shu�e the cards! chiseled in stone. �at might cause you to resist the
�at’s right. Shu�e them like a Vegas poker deck. �is fresh material that has come up and get back to your
is a cool idea from Robert Kernan’s excellent Building preset ideas.
Better Plots. Now go through the cards two at a time in With the headlights system, you don’t face that ten-
this random order. dency. Here’s how it can work.
What you’re looking for are new connections between Begin your journey, as always, with the LOCK system
plot elements, some fresh perspectives on the story. You and back cover copy. You should have an idea of where
may then want to revise your structure accordingly. you want to end up. �at would be the �nal chapter.
� ��
What sort of feeling are you going for? It can be vague when she sees the boy. Once again, he’s staring at her,
and may even change radically, but it’s always nice to this time with a smile on his face. He comes toward
start a journey with a destination in mind. her. Frightened for some reason, Sally tries to get out
First, write your opening chapter. of the store, bumping into people, etc. She is sure she’s
When you get to the end of the chapter, immediately being stalked.
jot down your ideas for the next few chapters.
You should have plenty of story material cooking in �at’s how, step by step, you both discover and out-
your mind at this point. Now look at what your headline your novel. You drive as far as your headlights allow.
lights see up ahead. Enjoy the ride!
Generate scene ideas by asking the following questions: ��
• What is my character’s emotional state at the end
Some very successful writers, such as Ken Follett, cre-
of the scene? How will he react in the next scene?
ate long, narrative outlines for their books. �is is also
• What is the next action my character needs to take?
called a treatment. It can run between 20–40 pages,
• What strong scene up ahead needs transitional
maybe more.
scenes before it?
�e narrative outline is written in the present tense. It
• Do I need to add any new characters? Has a
can include a bit of dialogue, but only what is crucial to
character in the scene I’ve just written suggested
the story. What you’re trying to create is a large canvas
other plot developments?
overview of the story.
Your notes can be as full or as scanty as suits your
Here is what a treatment might look like:
preference. For example, let’s say you’ve written an
opening to your coming-of-age story, which has your Randy Miller is a big man at Ta� High School. He is
lead character, a teenager named Sally, moving into a the star of the football team and hangs around with all
new house in a new town. At the end of the chapter, she the right people.
sneaks a peek out her bedroom window and sees a boy So why should a scrawny little guy like Bob be of any
from across the street staring at her. interest to him? Because Bob is teased mercilessly by
Now what? You write the following: the bigger guys, yet seems to have a serene way of tak-
Chapter 2: Next day, Sally walks to store where she sees ing it. �ere is a serenity inside Bob that Randy wishes
the boy again. He tries to talk to her. She runs away. he could �gure out.
Chapter 3: �at night, Sally’s father lectures her on Randy would like to talk to him, but doing so would
how to make friends. �ey don’t communicate well. be socially unacceptable—uncool! �ere is a real class
Blow up. system at school. �is is especially evident at lunch
Chapter 4: Monday. First day at new school. Sally is time. �ere is only one cool table, where Randy and
harassed by a jerk. �e mystery boy saves her. friends sit, and one de�nite outcast table where Bob
sits, o�en alone.
And there you have your outline for the next few scenes. One day Randy observes as his buddies pull down
If you want to �esh out the scenes a little more before Bob’s pants and stick him head �rst in a garbage can.
writing them, go ahead. For example: As Bob struggles out amidst the laughter all around,
Chapter 2: Next day. Raining. Sally walks to the store Randy just shakes his head at him. “Man, you are such
to get some school supplies. She is at once enchanted by a dweeb. Why don’t you stop being dweeby?”
and somewhat afraid of her new environment. �ere “What do you mean?” Bob says. “Everybody’s got
are contrasting images of beautiful gardens and run- potential. You want me to teach you?” Bob doesn’t
down homes, of fresh smells and the odor of dirty, wet answer, and Randy just waves him o� as a lost cause.
streets. She thinks about her friends back in Connecticut. Meanwhile, Randy is struggling in American Lit, taught
At the store, she is about to grab some notebook paper by the tough Mrs. Agnes. Tough because she cares about

these kids, and will not let them just skate by. She tries might be a moment where Mark realizes that he had
to bring out of every student deeper insights than they better be a success for his own daughter. Too many
otherwise have, through poetry and books. Bob does other people mess this job up. Let’s get back to the spiri-
well in this class … tual journey.
�is narrative outline will be revised and edited sev- Every day I would add to this journal, deepening my
eral times until you feel you have a solid story. understanding of the material. �is is a powerful tech-
nique even NOPS will love.
��
I’m a big fan of the books of David Morrell, especially �e ��
Successful Novelist. Morrell’s method is geared toward If you are a pure OP, if you desire to know just about
getting deeper into your story idea, �nding out why you everything that is going to happen in your novel before
really want to write it. It’s a trip into the subconscious you begin writing, here’s a simple plan to help you get
and the place where real writing power resides. there. I call it the Borg outline.
It’s a simple concept. You write a letter to yourself. �e Borg, as Star Trek fans know, is a cybernetic life
You ask yourself questions about your idea. �e most form that assimilates all life forms it can in order to cre-
important question is, Why? Keep asking that one over ate a collective, advanced consciousness. If you are a
and over. super OP and you want that kind of all-encompassing
I used this method for my novel Breach of Promise. system, this will work for you.
Here is the �rst part of what I wrote: You go from the general to the speci�c, and then you
tweak the speci�cs until you’re ready to write.
Why am I writing this? I am writing this because I want Here are the steps for you to follow:
readers to feel the story of a man coming to learn what [1] De�ne the LOCK elements (see page 59). A solid
it is to be a father, only to have the system tear his guts plot needs at least four things:
out. And the fact that he’s discriminated against even • A protagonist
while doing what’s right … wow. What does he do? • An objective for the protagonist
Is that all? Well, I want readers to love Mark and • Confrontation in the form of an opposing force
follow his spiritual journey. And why do people love • An idea of what kind of knockout ending you want
someone? If he cares about someone else (his daughter, So spend a good deal of time de�ning your LOCK ele-
of course; another character?). If he is vulnerable (wor- ments. It can be as simple as this:
ries, fears, hopes—and he’s the underdog).
What, exactly, is the journey about? He goes from Sam Jones is a cop who wants to �nd out who really
being a guy trying to be an actor, to someone who dis- murdered the mayor. He is opposed by the killer, who
covers deeper values—his daughter, for one. He really turns out to be the mayor’s wife. In the end he is trium-
phant, but I want the feeling to be bittersweet.
loves his daughter.
Why? What is it about having a daughter that is so �at’s very general, as it should be. If you’re going to
important to this guy? Maybe he had a kid sister? Who construct a complete outline you don’t want to commit
died in a terrible way? And maybe Maddie helps him yourself too quickly at any point in the proceedings. Stay
cope with that. (Or maybe that’s too much. It detracts loose to give your imagination some breathing room.
from the real part of the story, which is just him trying [2] Write your back cover copy. As I recommended
to get Maddie back?) earlier, begin by getting your summary statement into
Is there some other reason for Mark to be so attached shape. �is will be your overall story guide as you con-
to Maddie? Maybe because he’s never been really suc- tinue to put together the outline.
cessful at anything—he failed at baseball, even though [3] Create the overall structure. �ink in terms of
injured, and his acting deal isn’t coming along. �ere three acts. For example:
� ��
Act I: Sam gets the case. Act II: Sam struggles to solve the Chapter 6: �e killer’s point of view: watching the
case. Act III: Sam solves the case. news on television.
Next, think about the two doorways of no return. Ask And so on. �is part of your outlining can take a long
yourself why Sam must solve the case. What incident is time—and it should. Give yourself a realistic deadline
going to force Sam to take the case? It might be as sim- and strive to meet it. (You would not want to attempt
ple as being assigned the case. �at means he has a duty
this style of outlining while also attempting to �nish a
that he must obey. �at would be the �rst doorway.
complete dra� in 30 days.)
�en Sam comes across a major clue or su�ers a pos-
sible setback, which becomes the second doorway. �is Lay out your plot on index cards or in some other
may be a vague scene at �rst, but write it down in gen- form so you can get the big picture. Give yourself some
eral terms either on an index card or however else you time away and then come back to your plot once more
like to keep track of your scenes. for �ne-tuning. Maybe you’re going to want to add or
Come up with a possible ending scene and add that subtract scenes. In fact, you should.
to your list. [7] Do full chapter summaries. Expand your chapter
[4] Do some character work. If you like to do exten- lines into short summaries of the scenes you are going
sive character biographies, now would be the time to to write. Put down the locations, times and characters
work on those. I �nd it handy to distill all my character
involved. Strive to keep these summaries to less than
work into a one- or two-page grid with the following
250 words.
information:
[8] Take a breather. You deserve it.
Name, Description, Role
Objective & Motive [9] Write your novel. Follow the chapter summa-
Secret ries, step by step, as you write your book. If you come
Emotion Evoked to a place where you’re absolutely compelled to deviate
[5] Create act summaries. You have three acts already from your outline, pause and think about it, and if need
laid out. Give a summary of each act. What is going to be, change the outline from that point forward. Yes, it
be accomplished in each? Get more speci�c. involves work and new chapter summaries. But you are
[6] Create chapter summary lines. For each act, start an OP, and you love this.
creating one-line summaries of possible chapters. Again, [10] Revise your novel. See pages 86–96.
you can put these on index cards or simply list them. You
On a �nal note, if you remain unsure of what outlin-
will be manipulating them a lot, so be �exible. Some of
ing approach is best for you (if any at all), then make a
your chapter lines for act one might go like this:
list of your favorite novels. Is there a similarity to them?
Prologue: �e mayor is murdered. Are they heavy on plot and action, or do you prefer more
Chapter 1: Sam questions a witness in an unrelated character-driven books? Or is there a mix?
homicide. �e witness freaks out.
�ere are more NOPs on the literary/character-
Chapter 2: Sam is dressed down by his captain for
driven side, and more OPs on the commercial/plot-
being overzealous.
driven side. Take this into account when choosing a
Chapter 3: Sam gets drunk and complains to his
partner. Doesn’t want to go home. system. You should be writing the type of novel you
Chapter 4: At home, Sam yells at his wife and daugh- most like to read.
ter. His wife drinks.
Chapter 5: A newspaper reporter corners Sam about ��
the witness incident. Sam is assigned the case with a ��
partner, Art Lopez. ��

��
WORD COUNT BASICS

Know your goal so you can plan how many words
you need to write each day or week to complete
your book in 30 days.
T
his is a de�nitive guide to word count for �c- While it can be permissable to go over 100,000 words
tion (novels, young adult, middle grade), as if your book really warrants such length, don’t cross the
well as memoir. six-�gure mark by much. Agent Rachelle Gardner of
�e most important thing is to realize that Wordserve Literary points out that more than 110K is
there are always exceptions to these rules. (People love de�ned as “epic or saga”—and chances are your cozy mys-
to point out exceptions—and they always will.) However, tery or literary novel is not an epic. Gardner also men-
you cannot count on being the exception; you must count tions that passing 100,000 in word count means you’ve
on being the rule. Aiming to be the exception is setting written a book that will be more costly to produce—
yourself up for disappointment. What writers fail to see making it a di�cult sell.
is that for every successful exception to the rule (e.g.,
��
a �rst-time 175,000-word novel), there are hundreds of
Science �ction and fantasy books tend to run long
failures. Almost always, high word count means that the
largely because of all the descriptions and world-build-
writer simply did not edit his work enough. Or, it means
ing involved. �e thing is: Writers tend to know that
he has actually written two or more books combined
these categories run long so they make them run really
into one. With that in mind, let’s break down some gen-
long, and hurt their chances with an agent.
eral word count guidelines. With these genres, 100,000–110,000 is an excellent
range. It’s six-�gures long, but not excessive. �ere’s also
��
nothing wrong with keeping it a bit shorter; it shows
Aim for between 80,000 and 89,999 words. �is is a 100
that you can whittle your work down.
percent safe range for literary, romance, mystery, sus-
In broader terms, anything between 85,000 and
pense, thriller and horror. Now, speaking broadly, you
125,000 may be acceptable when writing science �ction
can get away with as few as 71,000 words and as many and fantasy.
as 109,000 words. But when a book dips below 80,000, it
might be perceived as too short—not giving the reader ��
enough. (�e one exception to this rule is the chick-lit Middle-grade �ction—that is, novels for readers in the
genre, which favors shorter, faster reads. If you’re writ- 9–12 age range—usually falls within 20,000–45,000
ing chick lit, 65,000–75,000 is a better target range.) words, depending on the subject matter and target
� ��
Aim for between 80,000 and 89,999 words. �is is a 100

percent safe range for literary, romance, mystery, suspense,
thriller and horror.
reader age. When writing a longer book aimed at 12-

��
year-olds (who could be considered “tween”), using
the term “upper–middle grade” is advisable. �ese ��
are books that resemble young adult �ction in matter ��
and storytelling, but still tend to stick to middle grade
themes and avoid hot-button, YA-acceptable themes ��
such as sex and drugs. With upper–middle grade, you ��
can aim for 32,000–40,000 words. You can stray a little
��
over but not much.
With a simpler middle-grade idea (such as Football ��
Hero or Jenny Jones and the Cupcake Mystery), aim lower.
Shoot for 20,000–30,000 words. ��
Marketable manuscripts in this genre can be anywhere
�� from 50,000–80,000 words. A good target range is any-
Perhaps more than any other, YA is the one category where around the 65,000-word mark.
where word count is very �exible. For starters, 50,000–
69,999 is a great range. ��
�e word from the agent blogosphere is that these Some literary agents such as Kristin Nelson of Nelson
books tend to be trending longer and can top out in Literary say that you shouldn’t think about word count,
the 80,000-word range. However, this progression is but rather you should think about pacing and telling the
still in motion, and trends can be �ckle, so you may be best story possible. While that sounds good in theory,
playing with �re the higher you go. Make sure you have the fact is: Not every agent feels that way and is will-
a compelling reason for exceeding 70,000 words. One ing to give a 129,000-word debut novel a shot. Agents
good reason is that your YA novel is science �ction or receive so many queries and submissions that they are
fantasy. Once again, these categories are expected to looking for reasons to say no. And if you submit a proj-
be a little longer because of the description and world- ect well outside the typical length conventions, then you
building they entail. are giving them ammunition to reject you.
Concerning the low end, fewer than 50,000 words Some writers may just take their chances, cross their
could be acceptable, but be sure to stay above 40,000 to �ngers and hope for the best.
remain viable in this genre. But don’t count on being the exception; count on
being the rule. �at’s the way to give yourself the best
�� shot at success.
�e standard for this category is text for 32 pages, which
might mean one line per page, or more. Aim for 500– ��
600 words; when a manuscript gets closer to 1,000, edi- ��
tors and agents might shy away. ��

YOUR
7�DAY JUMPSTART
Say good-bye to intimidation. Here’s a game
plan for your �rst week—including essential
checkpoints for long-term success.
��
T
his is where we plan and outline your four weeks of writing, as well
as provide a special roadmap for the �rst 7 days. �e mandatory
rule: Focus on one story. To complete a book in a month, think
about your word count goal like this:
• Week 1: Act I = 25 percent of goal
• Week 2: Act II, Part 1 = 25 percent of goal
• Week 3: Act II, Part 2 = 25 percent of goal
• Week 4: Act III = 25 percent of goal
�ere is nothing more frustrating than reaching 60 percent of your goal
only to realize you are still setting up the story in Act II. Plan ahead and
watch your act breaks.
Many times, a writer is great at writing Act I and will go on and on, set-
ting everything up, while another writer loves to get to the end and will
breeze through Act I in a race to get to the good stu�. Segmenting your writ-
ing time over these 30 days into acts helps you avoid these mistakes.
Remember, actually �nishing the story is most important. If your goal is
to write 80,000 words, that is wonderful. But you could easily write 80,000
words without ever getting anywhere near the ending, so the acts help you
stay on task.
For instance, 80,000 words could mean:
Week 1: Act I = 20,000 words
Weeks 2 and 3: Act II = 40,000 words
Week 4: Act III = 20,000 words
� � � ��
How you break it down is up to you and might also poorly the ship is made or that it will eventually sink
depend on the genre you are writing for, but guidelines (the plot’s core idea)? Does it do anything to advance
are always helpful. �e acts are guideposts to manage the core story? Not really.
your word and page counts. Unless you can make it �t with the core story and
Aside from setting and meeting a weekly word count advance it somehow, drop it.
goal, here is a special to-do list for the �rst seven days, �e one-sentence summary is similar to a thesis
to help ensure you have a successful �rst dra� a�er statement in non�ction. All the ideas you have are held
one month. up to it to see if they �t with the story. �is way, you
don’t go o� on tangents, spinning your wheels in the
�� wrong direction—oh, what a writing block that is!
What’s the one-liner for your story? Can you say, in one If you have no outline, you’ll also want to use this
sentence, what your story is about? �is is tough, but �rst day to brainstorm ideas for your Act I arc using
give it a try. Just include the very basic elements of your the Story Idea Map on pages 105–106. �is worksheet
story idea, the overall story in a nutshell. Don’t include outlines the basic Act I structure, using your setup to
the plot points or acts, just create a tagline of sorts to develop the basic plot situations or problems into con-
tell readers what your story is about. What would pub- �ict (where Act II will begin).
lishers put on the back of the book to let readers know Don’t censor yourself; just jot down any ideas that
what your story is about? come to mind. List any potential characters, both major
If you took everything away—the plot points, sub- and minor, as they occur to you—perhaps there will be
plots, settings, etc.—what is the core storyline that is characters you would expect to �nd in this kind of story;
le�? For instance: perhaps you’ll be surprised by unusual or atypical char-
• A rich girl and poor boy meet and fall in love on acters (possibly used to further comedic or dramatic
the ill-fated voyage of the Titanic. e�ect, depending on your goals). If you get an idea for a
• A Hobbit named Frodo, entrusted with an an- setting, prop, secondary character, what-have-you, write
cient ring, must now embark on an epic quest to it down and keep brainstorming. Don’t be afraid to twist
destroy it. an idea around and create an outrageous Act I.
�e point of this exercise is that, if you can’t express
in one line what the core of your story is, then you may ��
not have much to focus on while writing. You can’t get �ink about how your story should progress, and jot down
from A to Z, especially in 30 days, without some kind of details as they come to you, revising as you go along. (For
map. Even those of you who hate to outline must do this more on using index cards to track scenes, see page 25.)
little exercise. You have to have some kind of direction, You will keep using these cards to �esh out, add
even if that direction is a broad one. and change scenes as you write. �e cards should be
�is is your one-sentence outline. It is what all other small enough so you won’t go overboard and write too
elements of your outline will be held up to, should you much, which can leave no room for creativity as you
choose to work with one. For instance, if you �nd your- write the story.
self wondering whether or not to include a particular As you begin, you may want to think of your story
scene, you can �nd the answer to this question by ask- in terms of 10 key scenes. �is will help you focus your
ing, “Does it �t with my one-sentence outline?” idea so you can pepper the story with the more impor-
For example, in Titanic, you want to add a scene tant details later.
where Rose learns to play the harmonica in her room
because you just love the harmonica. Does the scene ��
really have anything to do with the love story (the sto- Many writers don’t like to outline, which is �ne. But
ry’s core idea)? Does it have anything to do with how when attempting a book in a month, it is critical to

have, at the very least, a solid direction to go in. �ere �� For each major charac-
just isn’t as much time to “go with the �ow” and wait ter, create a mini-pro�le. Use the worksheet on pages
to see what comes up. �ings will come up and you can 113–114 as a guide. �is worksheet provides a quick
go with them, but you have to give yourself a road to overview of your main characters, and help you get a
travel down in the �rst place. Remember: It is much handle on the basics of who a character is. For more
easier and faster to rewrite an outline than to rewrite extensive planning, use the Character-Revealing
an entire manuscript. Scenes worksheet (page 115) to plan how you will
You don’t have to have a detailed outline with every reveal each character’s strengths, weaknesses, skills
scene mapped out (though that would be great!), but and motivations.
at least know the direction you want to go in, the gist Note: Remember that you have in your story not
of the main characters—will they succeed or fail in just a protagonist, whose goal is shaped or informed
the end? by who he is and where he’s been, but you have an
�e At-A-Glance Outline (pages 108–112) o�ers a antagonist, whose goal is in con�ict with that of your
quick way to �ll in the blanks of your story. It guides main character. At the moment, having a clear under-
you to answer the right questions for each area of your standing of what your villain’s goal is will be enough
story, the questions that will come up fast when writ- to keep your story moving in the right direction. But
ing. Remember: Writing without a plot usually means
as you write, you’ll come to understand more of who
being okay with heavy rewriting.
your villain is and what parts of his own life have
So, �ll out the At-A-Glance Outline. Don’t panic if
pushed him toward this goal. Rather than trying to
you don’t know how all of your story’s pieces �t together
map out the villain’s upbringing, likes and dislikes,
yet—sometimes di�erent elements of your story reveal
or personal tragedies now, taking up valuable writing
themselves to you as you write. Right now, just �ll out
time, keep a blank character sheet handy and make
what you can. If a part of the outline stumps you, don’t
notes to yourself as more of your villain is revealed
get frustrated. Just think it over. Brainstorm some pos-
to you.
sibilities and try to �ll it in as best you can, because
this outline will act as your road map. If you’re still
��
stuck, leave that box blank. Don’t stop the whole pro-
A turning point is basically an event or new informa-
cess because you can’t answer one question. Keep mov-
tion that turns the story in a new direction, for the read-
ing forward and do your best.
ers or for the character (sometimes readers know what
�� will happen but the character doesn’t). �e best turning
While a 30-day plan is usually all about getting down points are the ones where readers have no idea they are
the plot, characterization is still extremely important. coming. On one page readers think things will go on
It doesn’t matter if you are writing a character-driven one way, then the next page (turning point) everything
story or a plot-driven one. changes, and the readers are excited about the possi-
Many writers like to map out their characters before bilities. For example:
they start writing, while others like to wait until they �e heroine meets the love of her life, and readers
have written a little of the story and met their charac- expect the story to progress along, leading to a mar-
ters before mapping them out. �e worksheets o�ered riage at the end. Readers are enjoying the story, but not
on pages 113–115 represent a middle ground of sorts— expecting too much, when all of a sudden the heroine
allowing you to think through certain aspects with- sees the hero with another woman but can’t be sure
out going too deep too early in the writing process. about what is going on. Now what the readers assumed
�ey help you plan for and chart character growth was going to happen may not happen; something is at
throughout your story. stake here.
� � � ��
�e heroine meets the love of her life … then she gets If you’ve already completed your opening scene,
news that she has only six months to live. it’s important to make sure you haven’t explained too
�e heroine meets the love of her life … but he has much. Most editors say writers tend to go into unnec-
a secret life. essary backstory before �nally getting the story rolling
�e heroine meets the love of her life … then she in chapter two. Take a look at your opening scene, and
walks out of her o�ce building and �nds someone consider the following questions:
shooting at her. • Does it lack forward momentum?
�ings have been turned around in a new direction! • Do you have a lot of explanation?
• Do you leave readers wondering what the
�� con�ict is?
�� e best way to �gure out if you’ve overdone it with
If you haven’t already started on your �rst scenes, refer- the backstory is to go through your opening chapter
ence “Your First Scenes” on pages 40–44 for guidance. and highlight in yellow all your descriptive words and
As you write those first scenes (or afterward), action-related passages where the character acts, reacts
you’ll need to think about backstory. Backstory is or makes a decision.
crucial to adding richness and depth to a story. It �en go through your opening chapter again and
helps readers better understand a character and/or highlight in pink all passages that convey backstory
situation, as it is directly related to the story’s main information. �ese passages may explain what is going
problem and is usually the source of a main charac- on, what happened in the past, or why things are as
ter’s flaws. Take a look at your At-A-Glance Outline. they are.
You might find that you touched on crucial back- What do you notice?
story elements in several sections, especially in those If you have a lot of pink highlighting, then you have
related to setup and character motivation. Your way too much backstory going on. Find some back-
character worksheets also should provide you with story passages that really don’t need to be there right
some insight into the story’s backstory. Now, not all now, jot them on your notes sheet, and delete them.
of this potential backstory is going to make it into �en later on, while you are working on Act II, per-
your story—some of it will, and some of it will sim- haps, you can work that information into the story in
ply inform or color what you write without you ever a more interesting way.
having to mention it directly. If you have a lot of yellow highlighting, then you
Determine which nuggets of backstory are just for either have just enough backstory or perhaps too lit-
you—the writer—and which ones actually belong in tle. �e best way to �gure this out is to have someone
your story. Next, make sure the details you choose to else you trust read just the opening chapter to see if she
include are relevant to the frontstory (if they’re not, understands the story. If she does, then you are prob-
then think about whether you really need to include ably right on track here.
them). A�er that, think about where this information Ultimately, it is your call. Editors like it when you
would �t best. Perhaps you want to reveal your main start the story early, but they also like to know what is
character’s backstory slowly, dropping only a small going on. Find a balance between the two.
clue in the opening scene. Or maybe you’re planning
a big �ashback scene near the end of Act I that’s going ��
to foreshadow events in Act II. Whatever you decide, Once you have your �rst 10,000–20,000 words, you
just make sure that your backstory has a direct tie should start looking for holes in your story. You don’t
to your frontstory and that you don’t overload your want to write 100 pages only to have a friend say, “Why
opening scene and bog down your readers with too would they do that?” or, “�e whole premise just doesn’t
many details that won’t mean anything to them yet. seem logical.”

�ink about the questions on the following checklist is able to talk when no other dogs can talk, you should
as you review your story a�er the �rst week. �is does explain how this happened. Ask yourself: “Will read-
not mean you should go back and rewrite if you �nd ers just buy this, or will they question it?” If every ani-
holes. Take notes on what needs to be �xed later, and mal in the story can talk, then readers will just accept
keep writing. it, because you have created a world where all dogs
talk. Remember, the reader will allow you to set the
��
rules of your world as long as those rules remain con-
• Does everything in the idea/summary make sense?
sistent; no one likes the rules to change in the middle
• Are the characters motivated?
of the game.
• Will the readers suspend disbelief?
Once you �nd a problem, decide if you really need
• Will the characters act as they are expected to?
that element in the story and then brainstorm ways to
If not, did you set up why they won’t?
explain it. You’re making this world from the ground
• Is the story’s world set up properly?
up, a�er all; make sure it sets and follows the rules you
• Is it clear why the antagonist is doing what he
is doing? need it to.
• Is it clear why the protagonist cares about the goal? ��
• Does the protagonist come into contact/con�ict
• Have you set up and built all the major characters?
with the antagonist in a manner that is organic
• Do you introduce the protagonist and antago-
to the story?
nist in a way that makes a strong �rst impres-
• Do all the characters have a purpose, a reason
sion on readers?
for being there?
• Do you announce the story goal (or at least hint
• Are all the setting props organic to the setting?
at it)?
• Is the goal feasible?
• Does everything make sense to the readers?
Traditional stories won’t have as many holes as the
• Do the main characters act “in character”? If
more challenging, unusual stories will, but even so,
not, why?
take a moment to see that your outline and the writing
you’ve done thus far make sense. In other words, make • Have you used any of your revealing scenes? If
sure your story has verisimilitude, a sense of plausible, not, can you tweak a scene to add one?
consistent and believable reality. • Are all actions motivated?
For instance, if you have three elderly characters • Do the characters react to the turning point in a
escape from a nursing home in the United States to run believable manner?
o� to Egypt, let the readers know how this came about. Come up with your own questions to ponder, as
It isn’t normal for this to happen, certainly, and having well, and make notes of these things on your work-
them decide go on a whim isn’t believable; otherwise, sheets. Don’t go back and rewrite just yet, even if you
why wouldn’t they have gone the day before? A week �nish Act I ahead of schedule. Keep moving forward
before? What is it that motivates this particular action and get a jump on Act II if you want to, but don’t stop
now? �ey need some major motivation and opportu- to rewrite. You are just making notes of holes to �x
nity for this to happen, which requires plausibility and when you rewrite. By the time you get to the end, you
consistency on your part in both motivation and the will forget a lot of Act I issues, and you don’t need
way the action is pursued. to take up valuable creative mental space with such
Writers of more fantastic or far-out stories must information.
pay particular attention to verisimilitude, as the rules
that govern “real life” aren’t necessarily those that ��
govern your story. For example, if one dog in the story ��
� � � ��
��
Use these tips, reminders and steps to help you stay on track.
1 2 3 4
WEEK �: ACT I • Start drafting Scene • Start your At-A- • Learn more about your
Cards (use index cards or Glance outline characters using the
• Write a one-sentence the worksheet on page (pages 108–112). Character Sketch (pages
story summary. 107). Identify at least 10 113–114), and Character-
• Begin to take notice
• Map Act I using the Story key scenes. Revealing Scenes
of what you’ll need
Tracker (pages 102–104); worksheets (page 115).
to research.
complete the Story Idea
Map (pages 105–106).
5 6 7 8
• Identify and develop your • Explore each character’s • Take a look back and WELCOME TO
Act I turning point. backstory and decide what identify any weaknesses WEEK �: ACT II, PART �
to include in your story. in your story.
• Stay solution-oriented
• Finish Act I.
as you head into Week 2.
Complete the Story Tracker
��% COMPLETED! for Act II (page 103) if you
haven’t already.
9 10 11 12
• Plan your Day 30 • Check the stability • If you don’t yet know your • Evaluate your story
celebration—this is an of your plot; evaluate climax, review the Climax structure by reviewing
excellent way to stay your progress by worksheet (page 116). suggestions in “Your
motivated! checking your At-A- Three-Act Structure”
• Evaluate your descriptions
Glance Outline. (pages 56–62).
• Speaking of … make to make sure every word
sure your characters are is pulling its weight.
properly motivated.
13 14 15 16
• Enrich your subplots to • Check your week’s work WELCOME TO • Evaluate the wholeness of
keep your story interesting for any potential plot WEEK �: ACT II, PART � each scene and the scene
and readers on their toes. holes that you’ll have to sequence. Reference
address later. • Start thinking about “Scenes: The Building
• Make sure your scenes
your story’s theme Blocks of Your Novel”
are connected and in a • Finish Act II, Part 1.
and how to weave it (pages 63–69).
logical order.
into your storyline.
��% COMPLETED! (See page 83.)

��
17 18 19 20
• Set up your Act II • Make sure your story still • Identify your best writing • Complete your Act II
turning point by fits into the genre in hours so that you’ll know turning point.
crafting your reversal. which you’re writing. when to be at your desk.
• Check to make sure your
(See worksheet on
• Make your villain more hero is on the right path.
page 118.)
complex—the big face-
• Keep an eye on o� is coming up.
your pacing.
21 22 23 24
• Give your hero a reason WELCOME TO • Take a look at how • Develop final obstacle
to keep going. WEEK �: ACT III your main character is for your characters
progressing. Review your to overcome.
• Finish Act II, Part 2.
• Complete the Story Tracker Character Sketch.
• Craft a riveting
for Act III (page 104) if you
��% COMPLETED! climactic scene.
haven’t already.
25 26 27 28
• Determine how to best • Reference “The Art of • Check your progress • Do a final story check to
reveal your theme. Closing Well” (pages against your goal word identify areas that may
77–84) and complete the count—you have only a need to be revised later.
• Prepare for your story’s
Closing & Denouement few days to go.
resolution—remember,
worksheet.
no loose ends.
29 30 NOTES
• Come up with several • Finish Act III.
alternative endings. If
• Celebrate!
one of them seems better
than what you’ve got,
consider plugging it in. ��% COMPLETED!
� � � � ��
YOUR
FIRST SCENES
You don’t have much time to hook the reader.
Here’s what you need to accomplish in the
�rst act of your novel.
��
T
he �rst few paragraphs of your novel will help a reader deter-
mine whether or not she wants to buy the book, and the �rst
scene or chapter will determine if your reader will continue to
read. As such, it’s absolutely essential to begin your novel in
the right place, in the right moment, with the right character, and in the
right manner.
Where you begin your novel shouldn’t be le� to chance. �ink through
the decision, and ask yourself why you think the beginning you’ve selected
is the right one.
In your opening scenes, you’ll introduce your characters, their histories
and the underlying con�icts. But you’ll also want to make the reader feel
immersed immediately in your novelistic world. You’ve got to earn your
readers, one page at a time.
��
�ink of the �rst lines of your novel as the moment you open the door to
meet your blind date—what’s your �rst impression? Your novel’s �rst impres-
sion on the reader, those �rst few sharp lines, will put your �ctional world
into a sharp and particular perspective. �e �rst lines also serve as literary
bait, enticing your reader to continue on with the next few lines, then the
next few lines, until, suddenly, they are knee-deep in your story, committed
to reading the rest.
Of course, there are many ways to begin a scene, but for the very �rst
scene of your novel, it’s a good idea to provide a hook. Consider, for a
moment, the �rst lines of Alice Sebold’s popular novel �e Lovely Bones:
“My name was Salmon, like the �sh; �rst name, Susie. I was fourteen when
I was murdered on December 6, 1973.”
�e �rst lines of this novel instantly grab the attention of the audience.
First, we get a bit of insight into Susie: She’s young and naïve enough to still

Where you begin your novel shouldn’t be le� to chance.
�ink through the decision, and ask yourself why you think
the beginning you’ve selected is the right one.
introduce herself as “Salmon, like the �sh.” �is is a detail looked like me: white girls with mousy brown hair. �is
particular to Susie’s personality, and the line immediately was before kids of all races and genders started appear-
lends the book a childlike narrative quality. �e second ing on milk cartons or in the daily mail. It was still back
sentence thrusts the reader directly into the con�ict. Our when people believed things like that didn’t happen.
young protagonist has been murdered—and thus we can In my junior high yearbook I had a quote from a
conclude that she’s narrating this novel from the great Spanish poet my sister had turned me on to, Juan Ramon
beyond. �is particular hook hooked millions of readers Jimenez. It went like this: “If they give you ruled paper,
and earned Sebold a movie adaptation contract. write the other way.” I chose it both because it expressed
Brainstorm a list of at least 20 opening lines, then my contempt for my structured surroundings a la the
scrutinize them and re�ne them. �en write a second classroom and because, not being some dopey quote
line for each. from a rock group, I thought it marked me as literary. …
Have you revealed a con�ict yet? Hinted at it? Why I wasn’t killed by Mr. Botte, by the way. Don’t think
did you start at this moment instead of another? What every person you’re going to meet in here is a suspect.
is the signi�cance of this particular moment in relation �at’s the problem. You never know. … My murderer
to the rest of your novel? Spend some time focusing on was a man from our neighborhood.
the �rst lines of your novel, playing around with up to
Before you read on, I want you to ask yourself the fol-
20 initial lines. Which one will hook the reader faster?
lowing questions and take the time to answer them, if
Which is most interesting? While you don’t want to get
only in your head:
stuck on the �rst few lines of this novel, you also don’t • What did you learn about the character so far?
want to undervalue the importance of these sentences. • What do you know about the plot so far?
• What are some of the con�icts or complications?
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• Did you feel drawn into the story? Why?
In the very first pages, like in your first few lines,
We learn quite a bit about the novel and about Susie,
you’ll need to introduce your character(s) in such a
the novel’s protagonist, in this paragraph. We learn
way that your reader feels immediately invested. You
immediately that she’s been murdered, by a neighbor.
want your readers to feel like they already know your
(�e fact that she names her murderer tells us this won’t
characters. Your characters should enter a world with
be whodunit novel.) We know she has a sister, who
such a burst of energy and a familiarity that your read-
turned her on to a Spanish poet—and this detail tells us
ers will feel like if they tune out, even for a moment,
something about the sister, too.
they’ll miss something.
We also know quite a bit about her history: Susie was
Let’s take a moment to consider, again, the opening of
in every way a typical teenager at the time of her death.
�e Lovely Bones. �is time I’ll provide a few paragraphs:
She was concerned with what others thought of her,
My name was Salmon, like the �sh; �rst name, Susie. I with “seeming literary,” and she manifests the typical
was 14 when I was murdered on December 6, 1973. In contempt for the structure of school of an average teen-
newspaper photos of missing girls from the seventies, most ager. But Susie is no average teenager. She’s dead, and
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It was a wrong number that started it, the telephone ��
ringing three times in the dead of night, and the ��
voice on the other end asking for someone he was ��
not. Much later, when he was able to think about ��
the things that happened to him, he would conclude ��
that nothing was real except chance. But that was ��
much later. ��
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she’s narrating from beyond the grave. �ose are signi�- in this scene? You should turn your readers’ expectations
cant and compelling facts. upside down by putting your character in an unusual or
unexpected situation. If your protagonist is a priest, what
�� would happen if he ended up at a disco, for instance? If
�� your character is claustrophobic, what would happen if
A general rule to keep in mind is this: �e �rst scene she were to be trapped in a meat locker? How would this
belongs to your protagonist, so it’s vital to introduce be made worse if your character were a claustrophobic
your protagonist as early as possible—in the �rst line, vegetarian trapped in that meat locker?
if you can. While descriptions do have a place in your Leave your �rst scene with an unresolved situation,
novel, waiting too long to introduce your protagonist so that your reader will remain curious enough to read
or the con�ict can be a novel-killing decision. In the the next scene.
�rst scene, you should be paying more attention to
quick pacing than to lengthy paragraphs of exposition. ��
You want your reader to keep turning the pages—to If you’ve written the �rst scene of a novel, you know how
feel like she is already making progress in the novel. di�cult wrestling a scene into shape can be. It’s all about
With that in mind, you should try to reveal some sort balance, including enough of each discrete component to
of con�ict or tension within the �rst pages. paint a believable and rich world. You can’t just tell your
In your �rst scene, consider these tips: reader about your protagonist, setting and con�ict—you
• Be sure to explain the signi�cance of the novel’s must let your reader experience it on her own. It’s pretty
starting point. (In �e Lovely Bones, for example, tricky, but nobody said you’d get it perfect on your �rst try.
the signi�cance of the starting is an event: the As you write further into your beginning scenes, keep
murder of Susie Salmon.) in mind: What kind of information will your reader want
• Provide insight into your character through or need to know? Where can you develop your charac-
dialogue, bits of physical description, and inter, providing enough �aws to make him sympathetic to
direct thought. your reader? How can you hint at, if not directly reveal,
• Pay attention to pacing. In the �rst few pages es- the con�ict that your character will face?
pecially, avoid any overly lengthy descriptions of Try to write these scenes in as linear a fashion as pos-
setting or interior thoughts. sible. And even though you should provide a sense of
By the middle of the �rst scene, your character should your character’s history and past experiences, you should
be faced with a con�ict. What is at stake for your character also aim to stay in the present of your novel as much as
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possible. Flashing back and forth in time too frequently begins from there. �is �rst plot point sets up the rest
can put an end to your story’s momentum, confuse the of the novel: Daisy and Gatsby’s reunion, the revelation
reader and prevent a narrative arc from developing. of their a�air, the death of Myrtle and the murder of
Gatsby. None of these events would have been possible
�� without this �rst major plot point, the reuniting of these
�� two former �ames.
�ink of the �nal scene of Act One as a mini-climax. By the �nal scene of Act One, you should introduce
Your character is faced with a decision, an event or a your reader to the �rst signi�cant plot point of the novel.
circumstance that will naturally lead to the rest of your What is at stake for your character in this moment?
novel. Perhaps this �rst plot point is an inheritance, a How will his response to this �rst plot point initiate the
death or a journey somewhere they’ve never been. �e events in the next third of your novel?
possibilities are wide open. Fitzgerald ends his �rst act with a provocative line,
Let’s think about the �rst major plot point in �e indicating the possibilities of Daisy and Gatsby’s reunion.
Great Gatsby. Roughly one-third of the way through Nick says, “�en I went out of the room and down the
the novel we learn that Jay Gatsby, up until this point marble steps into the rain, leaving them there together.”
revealed only third-hand through the narrator, Nick �e reader might ask, what will they do when they are
Carraway, was once in love with Daisy and has moved alone together? Read on, good friends, Fitzgerald beck-
to West Egg to be near to her. Gatsby has asked Nick ons with this cli�anger. Read on.
to invite his cousin Daisy over for a�ernoon tea, where
Gatsby will unexpectedly show up, surprising Daisy. ��
Nick agrees, Daisy and Gatsby connect, and their a�air ��

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ASSEMBLE YOUR
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CHARACTERS
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Here are four paths for building your cast

of essential characters, plus the question you
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very drama—and �ction is always a kind of incident can therefore have tremendous �ctional power.
drama—requires a cast. �e cast may be so �at’s why so many successful writers have drawn
huge, as in Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, that directly on their own lives for their work.
the author or editor provides a list of charac- Charles Dickens used his desperate stint as a
ters to keep everybody straight. Or it may be an intimate child laborer in Victorian England to write David
cast of two. (In ‘‘To Build a Fire,’’ Jack London managed Copper�eld. John Galsworthy, like his character Jolyon
with one person and a dog.) Whatever the size of your Forsyte of �e Forsyte Saga, had an a�air with and later
cast, you have to assemble it from somewhere. married the wife of his abusive cousin. Nora Ephron,
Where do you get these people? And how do you
bestselling author of Heartburn, was frank about bas-
know they’ll make good characters?
ing her story of adultery and desertion on her own
You have four sources: yourself, real people you know,
desertion by husband Carl Bernstein (�ction as
real people you hear about and pure imagination.
public revenge).
�� Should you create a protagonist based directly on
�� yourself? �e problem with this—and it is a very large
In one sense, every character you create will be yourself. problem—is that almost no one can view himself objec-
You’ve never murdered, but your murderer’s rage will tively on the page. As the writer, you’re too close to your
be drawn from memories of your own most extreme own complicated makeup. �is makes it very di�cult
anger. Your love scenes will use your own past kisses, to use that third mind-set and become the reader, who
caresses and sweet moments. �at scene in which your doesn’t know that the character’s nastiness in the �rst
octogenarian feels humiliated will draw on your expe- scene is actually balanced by your admirable sense of
rience of humiliation in the eighth grade, even though fair play. You know it, and you’ll bring it out later in the
the circumstances are totally di�erent and you’re not story … but by that time it may be too late. �e reader
even consciously thinking about your middle-school knows only what’s on the page, not what’s in your mind
years. Our characters’ emotions draw on our own emo- and heart.
tions. Until telepathy is common, our own emotions are It can thus be easier and more e�ective to use the
the only ones we’ve intimately experienced. �ey’re our
situation or incident from your life but make it happen
default setting.
to a character who is not you. In fact, that’s what the
Sometimes, however, you will want to use your life
authors cited above have largely done. Rachel Samstat,
more directly in your �ction, dramatizing actual inci-
Nora Ephron’s heroine, is sassier and funnier when le�
dents. �is has both strengths and pitfalls.
by her husband than any real person would be. You can
�e strength is that you were there. You know the
concrete details and can get them right: the way the still, of course, incorporate aspects of yourself: your
light slants through a church window at noon, the smell love of Beethoven, your quick temper, your soccer inju-
of cooking fat in a diner, the dialogue of cops in the ries. But by using your own experience with a di�er-
precinct house. �ese things are invaluable in creating ent protagonist, you can take advantage of your insider
believable �ction. knowledge of the situation, and yet gain an objectivity
Even more important, you were there emotionally. and control that the original intense situation, by de�-
You felt whatever exaltation, fear, panic, tenderness or nition, did not have.
despair the situation evoked. A well-done biographical So where do you get this other protagonist?

Should you create a protagonist based directly on yourself?
�e problem with this—and it is a very large problem—is
that almost no one can view himself objectively.
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Many, many famous characters are based, in part, on In addition to composites of people you know, you can
real people. �e key words here are ‘‘in part.’’ also base characters on people you don’t know person-
Like characters based on yourself, �ctional creations ally but have only heard or read about. �is can work
based on others seem to be most e�ective when they’re very well because you’re not bound by many facts. You’re
cannibalized. Using people straight can, as in the case actually making up the character, with the real person
of using yourself, limit both imagination and objectiv- providing no more than a stimulus for inspiration.
ity. So instead of using your Uncle Jerome exactly as he Say, for example, that you read about a woman whose
is, consider combining his salient traits with those of will leaves $6 million to a veterinary hospital she visited
other acquaintances or with purely made-up qualities. only once, 40 years earlier, with her dying cat. You never
�is has several advantages. met this woman. All you have is the newspaper story
First, you can cra� exactly the character you need for and a blurry picture. But something about the situation
your plot. Suppose, for instance, that your actual Uncle has caught your attention. What kind of person would
Jerome is quick-tempered and cuttingly witty when do that? You begin to imagine this woman: her person-
angered and remorseful later about the terrible (but ality and history, what that cat must have meant to her,
very funny) things he said while mad. But your charac- why there were no other people important enough to
ter would work better if he were a stranger to remorse, her to leave them any inheritance.
staying angry in a cool, unrepentant way. Combine Before long, you’ve created a full, interesting and
Uncle Jerome with your friend Don, who can hold a poignant character, someone you might want to write
grudge until the heat death of the universe. Combining about. Yes, you started with secondhand information—
characters gives you greater �exibility. but now the character is fully yours.
�is is how Virginia Woolf created Clarissa Dalloway Sometimes the original spark can be very small indeed.
(Mrs. Dalloway). Her primary source, according to I once based a character on a photo of a new bride in the
Woolf ’s biographer Quentin Bell, was family friend newspaper. I have no idea what the actual woman was
Kitty Maxse. But Woolf also wrote in her diary that she like, but her polished, blonde radiance somehow struck
drew on Lady Ottoline Morrell for Clarissa: ‘‘I want to my imagination, suggesting a pampered joyfulness that
bring in the despicableness of people like Ott.’’ Similarly, grew in my mind into a complete personality.
Emma Bovary (Gustave Flaubert’s Madame Bovary) As Charlotte Bronte famously remarked, reality
and spymaster George Smiley (John le Carré’s series) should ‘‘suggest’’ rather than ‘‘dictate’’ characters.
are composites of people their creators knew.
A second, lesser advantage of cannibalizing traits ��
from people, instead of just dumping your friends on ��
the page in their entirety, is that your family and friends Creating purely invented characters is actually very similar
are less likely to recognize themselves and become upset to basing characters on strangers. With strangers, a small
with you. It also avoids potential lawsuits. glimpse into another life sparks the writer’s imagination.
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Made-up characters, too, usually begin with the spark of One aspect of this selection process is to look at each
an idea popping into the writer’s mind. �e writer then character to decide if she would be better as a changer
fans the spark into a full-blown person. or a stayer. �e distinction is critical to both character-
William Faulkner, for example, had a sudden mental ization and plot.
image of a little girl with muddy drawers up in a tree. Changers are characters who alter in signi�cant ways
�at image became Caddy in �e Sound and the Fury, as a result of the events of your story. �ey learn some-
which Faulkner considered his best novel. thing or grow into better or worse people, but by the
No matter what your initial source—reality or end of the story they are not the same personalities
imagination—characters usually present themselves they were in the beginning. �eir change, in its various
encased in at least the rudiments of a �ctional situation. stages, is called the story’s emotional arc.
Caddy is up in a tree (why?). �e deceased lady has le� Let’s look at an example. In John Grisham’s �e Street
$6 million to an animal hospital. You have something Lawyer, protagonist Michael Brock starts out as an ambi-
here to work with. Your next task is to look hard at this tious, married lawyer, piling up hours and salary raises
character/situation in order to decide if the character is at a prestigious Washington law �rm. By the end of the
strong enough to sustain a story. In part, of course, that novel, Brock is separated from his wife, relatively poor,
depends on how well you write about her and whether and working happily as a legal advocate for the home-
you want to write about this person. Some guidelines less. �ese external changes have come about because
exist for making that decision. Brock has changed internally. His world has been wid-
ened and his compassion deepened as a result of some
�� very dramatic events: being taken hostage by a desper-
�� ate homeless man, a shoot-out and the death of a child.
Not all your characters will matter equally to the story. Michael Brock, as protagonist, is a changer. His emo-
One is the star—your protagonist. (�ere may be tional arc is a large one.
more in a long novel.) �is is the person whom the Other equally successful protagonists are stayers.
story is mostly about: Anna Karenina in her epony- �is tends to be especially true in series books. Janet
mous novel, Stephanie Plum in Janet Evanovich’s mys- Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum is a brash, foul-mouthed,
teries, Harry Potter in J.K. Rowling’s fantasies. Your fashion-impaired, hilarious bounty hunter in her �rst
star gets the most attention from both the reader and book, One for the Money. Nine books later, she hasn’t
writer, the most word count expended on him or her changed. Nor do her readers want her to. Stephanie is
and the climactic scene. too much fun just as she is.
Other characters are necessary to the story and inter- Other characters are stayers because the point of the
esting in their own right; these are the featured play- book is that they come to grief because of their blind-
ers of your cast. �e rest have bit parts. �ey aren’t well ness. �ese books present the idea that people cannot
developed and are, essentially, slightly animated furni- change but instead are locked into destructive patterns,
ture in your setting. Who should be which? either personal or societal. In such �ction, the protago-
Before we answer that, I want to make clear that there nists de�antly, destructively go on being as they start out.
are no simple rules for choosing who should become An example is F. Scott Fitzgerald’s �e Great Gatsby. Jay
your star and who should remain featured players. Gatsby cannot become other than he is: idealistic, unre-
Choosing a given character as protagonist will result in alistic and enthralled by love. His obstinacy kills him.
one novel; choosing someone else will result in a dif- Likewise, Daisy and Tom Buchanan are stayers who will,
ferent novel, which may or may not be better than the we are explicitly told, go on being ‘‘careless,’’ messing up
�rst. Our goal here is merely to analyze each important other people’s lives and then retreating into the safety of
member of your cast in order to identify the character their vast fortune. Only the narrator, Nick Carraway, is a
you can become excited about writing. changer—which is one reason he’s the narrator. Fitzgerald

Changers are characters who alter in signi�cant ways as a
result of the events of your story. �ey learn something or
grow into better or worse people.
wanted someone in his novel to change because he had new twist. Do you care about the cop? �e neph-
some points he wanted to make about Jazz Age society, ew? Is the murder signi�cant in some way?
and a changer who became disgusted with the entire • Can I maintain enough objectivity about this
social scene was the best way to make them. character, combined with enough identi�cation,
Does that mean that changers are always better than to practice the triple mind-set—becoming au-
stayers as protagonists? No. It all depends on the particular thor, character and reader as I write?
story you want to tell. Nick Carraway is right for �e Great • Do I want this character to be a stayer or a chang-
Gatsby; Stephanie Plum is right for One for the Money. er? If she’s going to be a changer, does it feel as if
she has the capacity to change through the emo-
�� tional arc I plan for her?
Now, the big question: What does all this have to do with �is last one needs some explanation. For an emo-
your protagonist? It gives you �exibility to make choices tional arc to work, we must believe that the character is
before you begin writing. Playing mentally with these capable of change. Some people are not. �ere are alco-
choices can help you assemble the right characters for your holics who are never going to even try to stop drinking.
cast. �ere are a hundred ways to tell any story, and the �ere are believers in a �at Earth who will not be con-
more of them you consider before you begin, the greater vinced that the planet is round, no matter how many
the odds of �nding just the combination that will most �re photos taken from space you show them. In �ctional
your imagination and lead to the best �ction you can write. terms, there are Tom and Daisy Buchanan.
Start by asking a few preliminary questions. You On the other hand, consider Cuyler Goodwill, a major
already have some idea of the situation you want to character in Carol Shields’s Pulitzer Prize–winning
write about, since characters seldom appear in a vac- novel �e Stone Diaries. Cuyler’s life until 1903, when
uum. �at old woman isn’t just any old woman—she’s he was 26, was joyless and deadeningly monotonous:
leaving $6 million to a veterinary hospital. �at man
His family, the Goodwills, seemed le� in the wake of the
isn’t just any man—he’s a detective with the NYPD who
stern, old, untidy century that conceived them, and they
has a murder to solve, a drinking problem and his dead
gave o�, all three of them, father, mother, and child, an
sister’s kid to raise. You’ve got a little information you
aroma of impotence, spindly in spirit and puny of body …
can use as a springboard for evaluating your character.
when Cuyler turned 14 his father looked up from a
So, to choose your stars, ask yourself:
plate of fried pork and potatoes and mumbled that the
• Am I genuinely interested in this character? Do I
time had come to leave school and begin work in the
�nd myself thinking about him in odd moments,
Stonewall Quarries where he himself was employed.
imagining his previous life, inventing bits of dia-
A�er that Cuyler’s wages, too, went into the jam pot.
logue? If not, you won’t write him very well.
�is went on for 12 years.
• Is this character or situation fresh and interesting
in some new way? We’ve seen a lot of NYPD cops �en Cuyler meets Mercy Stone, marries her, and is ‘‘mirac-
with murders to solve and drinking problems. ulously changed’’ by a ‘‘tidal motion of sexual longing [that]
Maybe the orphaned nephew will be enough of a �lled him to the brim.’’ All this is told in �ashback; the
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story proper begins with Mercy’s death. But because we If it’s a mystery, maybe the veterinarian’s daughter
have seen that Cuyler is capable of having released in him a is the star. She will be investigating her father’s death,
strong surge of previously unexplored behavior, we accept which she suspects is traceable to the son. He’s very
his later changes in the book. He has been established as angry about that will …
a person who throws himself completely into whatever Or the mystery plot might be the son’s story. He did not
seizes his heart. �us, we believe the author when she sub- kill the old vet. But there’s something weird about his moth-
sequently shows us a Cuyler completely given over �rst to er’s legacy—she was peculiar but not that peculiar. Someone
religion, then to business, and �nally to despair. We know in�uenced or coerced her, and he’s going to �nd out who
he doesn’t do anything by halves. and how. �e son loves cats himself, but this is ridiculous.
How about your prospective character? Is he someone Or perhaps you’re not writing a mystery at all. You’re
you can portray as capable of change? If so, he may be a writing a social drama about how people are corrupted
good candidate to be your star. But don’t decide quite yet. by money. �en maybe the housekeeper is your star. She
barely makes a living wage herself, she struggles to raise
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her own kids, and she observes this greedy family, each
We’ve thought about one character who may or may
member already comfortably o�, throwing away every
not end up the protagonist of this story. Now let’s think
decency and principle for $6 million. �en she herself
about the rest of the actors, plus all the ways you could
faces temptation when she sees a way to make o� with
cast this story taking shape in your mind. Each would
some of that money.
lead to a signi�cantly di�erent novel.
Or you want to write a coming-of-age story. �en the
Let’s say your �rst character is the old woman who has
grandson might be the star, a de�nite changer, coming
le� $6 million to the veterinary hospital. Who might be
the featured players in this drama? A few possibilities: to grips with the weaknesses and foibles of a family he
• �e veterinarian, now elderly, who cured her cat nonetheless loves.
40 years ago. Does he even remember her? Or maybe the young lawyer is an animal activist, and
• The woman’s son, furious over not inheriting this is his story because he’s enraged that a veterinary
her money. hospital devoted to the care of animal species, which are
• �e young lawyer handling the will, who is trou- fully as worthy as humans, is going to be cheated out of
bled by this situation. If the son can break the will, this inheritance.
it won’t be good for the lawyer’s �edgling career. You see the point. Any of these could make a good
• �e veterinarian’s daughter. �e vet will die be- story because everybody is the star of his own life and
fore the will is probated. In fact (you just thought your characters all have lives. You choose your star
of this while making your list!), the original will is based on the following considerations:
missing—all the lawyer has is a copy. �e vet dies • what sparks your imagination
under mysterious circumstances. �e daughter • which characters appeal most to you
is suspicious. • whether you want to focus on a changer or a
• �e old woman’s 12-year-old grandson, witness stayer; if a changer, who seems to have the poten-
to all this �ghting. tial for genuine change
• �e old woman’s housekeeper, also a cat lover, • who could progress through an emotional arc
who wonders why the money was le� to that you want to portray
veterinary hospital, which the deceased never
patronized again for all her subsequent cats. ��
Whew! All these actors, and any one of them could You’ve assembled your cast, at least tentatively. You’ll
be the star. �e rest would, of necessity, end up featured add more characters as the story gets written, and you
players. What kind of story do you want to write? may �re some of the ones you already have.

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Before you begin writing, do one more thing. Try to to explain how she got there, and there better not
detach from everything you’ve done so far. Instead, look be more than one of her in that setting.
at your cast with the eye of a reader who as yet knows • Do you have all the characters that circum-
nothing about them. stances logically require? For example, if you’re
�is is not easy to do. writing about a murder, you pretty much have to
You know that the housekeeper is going to reveal, in include professional law enforcement characters
chapter six, a secret that will knock the socks o� every- eventually, even in an amateur-detective cozy.
one who reads this book. But chapter six is a long ways
�e pros tend to show up when people get killed,
away, and your reader doesn’t know it’s coming. Look at
even if they aren’t integral to your plot. Another
what he sees now. Is this a collection of people he might
example: In Regency London, well-bred upper-
be interested in? Ask yourself:
class young ladies did not travel without, at a
• Are there enough di�erences among the charac-
minimum, an abigail or maid. Write her in.
ters to provide variety?
• Is it plausible that these people would know Remember that your major characters, especially
each other or can be brought to know each other your protagonist(s), should be people you are genuinely
through your planned story events? excited about creating. You should know them well. If
• Is the entire group so bland or depressed that no you can’t complete a character sketch on each major
one will want to spend 400 pages with them? (A character in your book, you don’t yet know enough
few bland or depressing ones are �ne.) about that character to begin writing.
• Are these the people who might plausibly be
found in your setting? You can certainly plunk ��
down an émigré Russian princess in 1910 ��
Harlem if you want to, but you better be prepared ��
� � � ��
��
COMMON
CHAPTER ONE PITFALLS
What types of �rst scenes or story openings should
you avoid? Industry insiders speak out.
A
sk literary agents what they’re looking for in a �rst chapter and
they’ll all say the same thing: “Good writing that hooks me in.”
Agents appreciate the same elements of good writing that read-
ers do. �ey want action; they want compelling characters and a
reason to read on; they want to see your voice come through in the work and
feel an immediate connection with your writing style.
Sure, the fact that agents look for great writing and a unique voice is noth-
ing new. But, for as much as you know about what agents want to see in chap-
ter one, what about all those things they don’t want to see? Obvious mistakes
such as grammatical errors and awkward writing aside, writers need to be
conscious of �rst-chapter clichés and agent pet peeves—any of which can
sink a manuscript and send a form rejection letter your way.
To help compile a grand list of poisonous chapter one no-no’s, dozens
of established literary agents were happy to speak out on everything they
can’t stand to see in that all-important first chapter. Here’s what they had
to say.
��
“I dislike endless ‘laundry list’ character descriptions. For example: ‘She had
eyes the color of a summer sky and long blonde hair that fell in ringlets past
her shoulders. Her petite nose was the perfect size for her heart-shaped face.
Her azure dress—with the empire waist and long, tight sleeves—sported tiny
pearl buttons down the bodice and ivory lace peeked out of the hem in front,
blah, blah, blah.’ Who cares! Work it into the story.”
—L�� M�L��, Larsen Pomada Literary Agents

“Slow writing with a lot of description will put me o� “Avoid the opening line ‘My name is …,’ introducing the
very quickly. I personally like a �rst chapter that moves narrator to the reader so blatantly. �ere are far better
quickly and draws me in so I’m immediately hooked ways in chapter one to establish an instant connection
and want to read more.” between narrator and reader.”
—A�� H��, Andrea Hurst & Associates —M�� A��,
Lynn C. Franklin Associates
“I hate reading purple prose, taking the time to set
up—to describe something so beautifully and that has “I recently read a manuscript when the second line was
nothing to do with the actual story. I also hate when something like, ‘Let me tell you this, Dear Reader ...’
an author starts something and then says ‘(the main What do you think of that?”
—S�� B��, Sheree Bykofsky Literary
character) would �nd out later.’ I hate gratuitous sex
and violence anywhere in the manuscript. If it is not
��
crucial to the story then I don’t want to see it in there, “I don’t really like �rst-day-of-school beginnings, or
in any chapters.” the ‘From the beginning of time,’ or ‘Once upon a time’
—C�� W��, Cherry Weiner Literary starts. Speci�cally, I dislike a chapter one where noth-
“I want to feel as if I’m in the hands of a master storyteller, ing happens.”
and starting a story with long, �owery, overly-descrip- —J�� R��, Jean V. Naggar Literary Agency
tive sentences (kind of like this one) makes the writer “ ‘�e Weather’ is always a problem—the author feels he
seem amateurish and the story contrived. Of course, an has to take time to set up the scene completely and tell
equally jarring beginning can be nearly as o�-putting, us who the characters are, etc. I like starting a story in
and I hesitate to read on if I’m feeling disoriented by the media res.”
��h page. I enjoy when writers can �nd a good balance —E��z�� P��,
between exposition and mystery. Too much accounting Larsen Pomada Literary Agents
always ruins the mystery of a novel, and the unknown is “Characters that are moving around doing little things,
what propels us to read further. It is what keeps me up at but essentially nothing. Washing dishes and thinking,
night saying, ‘Just one more chapter, then I’ll go to sleep.’ staring out the window and thinking, tying shoes, think-
If everything is explained away in the �rst chapter, I’m ing. Authors o�en do this to transmit information, but
probably putting the book down and going to sleep.” the result is action in a literal sense but no real energy
—P�� M��, Peter Miller Literary in a narrative sense. �e best rule of thumb is always to
start the story where the story starts.”
�� —D�� L�z��, Writers House
“A pet peeve of mine is ragged, fuzzy point-of-view.
How can a reader follow what’s happening? I also ��
dislike beginning with a killer’s POV. What reader “I hate it when a book begins with an adventure that
would want to be in such an ugly place? I feel like a turns out to be a dream at the end of the chapter.”
nasty voyeur.” —M�� G��, Foundry Literary + Media
—C�� F��, �e August Agency “Anything cliché such as ‘It was a dark and stormy
“An opening that’s predictable will not hook me in. If the night’ will turn me o�. I hate when a narrator or author
average person could have come up with the characters addresses the reader (e.g., ‘Gentle reader’).”
—J�� D��, Dunham Literary
and situations, I’ll pass. I’m looking for a unique out-
look, voice, or character and situation.” “Sometimes a reasonably good writer will create an
—D�� C��, Muse Literary Management interesting character and describe him in a compelling
� � � ��
way, but then he’ll turn out to be some unimportant bit of a bodily function (jerking o�, vomiting, peeing
player. I also don’t want to read about anyone sleep- or what have you) is usually a �rm no right from the
ing, dreaming, waking up or staring at anything. Other get-go. Gross. Long prologues that o�en don’t have
annoying, unoriginal things I see too o�en: some young anything to do with the story. (So common in fantasy,
person going home to a small town for a funeral, some- again.) Opening scenes that are all dialogue without any
one getting a phone call about a death, a description of context. I could probably go on ...”
a psycho lurking in the shadows, or a terrorist planting —K�� N��, Nelson Literary
a bomb.”
—E�� P��, Signature Literary Agency ��
“I don’t like descriptions of the characters where
“I don’t like it when the main character dies at the end of writers make the characters seem too perfect.
chapter one. Why did I just spend all this time with this Heroines (and heroes) who are described physically
character? I feel cheated.” as being un�awed come across as unrelatable and
—C�� F��, �e August Agency boring. No ‘�owing, windswept golden locks’; no
“1. Squinting into the sunlight with a hangover in a ‘eyes as blue as the sky’; no ‘willowy, perfect �gures.’ ”
crime novel. Good grief—been done a million times. 2. —L�� B��, Bradford Literary Agency
A sci-� novel that spends the �rst two pages describ- “Many writers express the character’s backstory before
ing the strange landscape. 3. A trite statement (‘Get they get to the plot. Good writers will go back and cut
with the program’ or ‘Houston, we have a problem’ or that stu� out and get right to the plot. �e character’s
‘You go girl’ or ‘Earth to Michael’ or ‘Are we all on the backstory stays with them—it’s in their DNA—even
same page?’), said by a weenie sales guy, usually in a�er the cut. To paraphrase Bruno Bettelheim: �e
the opening paragraph. 4. A rape scene in a Christian more the character in a fairy tale is described, the less
novel, especially in the �rst chapter. 5. ‘Years later, the audience will identify with him … �e less the char-
Monica would look back and laugh ...’ 6. ‘�e [adjective] acter is characterized and described, the more likely the
[adjective] sun rose in the [adjective] [adjective] sky, reader is to identify with him.”
shedding its [adjective] light across the [adjective] —A�� C��, Artists and Artisans
[adjective] [adjective] land.’ ”
—C�� M��G��, MacGregor Literary “I’m really turned o� when a writer feels the need to �ll
in all the backstory before starting the story; a story that
“A cheesy ‘hook’ drives me nuts. I know that they say opens on the protagonist’s mental re�ection of their sit-
‘Open with a hook!’—something to grab the reader. uation is (usually) a red �ag.”
While that’s true, there’s a �ne line between a hook that’s —S�� E��, FinePrint Literary Management
intriguing and a hook that’s just silly. An example of a
silly hook would be opening with a line of overtly sexual “One of the biggest problems I encounter is the ‘infor-
dialogue. Or opening with a hook that’s just too convo- mation dump’ in the �rst few pages, where the author is
luted to be truly interesting.” trying to tell us everything we supposedly need to know
—D�� L�z��, Writers House to understand the story. Getting to know characters in a
story is like getting to know people in real life. You �nd
“Here are things I can’t stand: Cliché openings in fan- out their personality and details of their life over time.”
tasy novels can include an opening scene set in a battle —R�� G��, Wordserve Literary
(and my peeve is that I don’t know any of the charac-
ters yet so why should I care about this battle) or with ��
a pastoral scene where the protagonist is gathering “�e most common opening is a grisly murder scene
herbs (I didn’t realize how common this is). Opening told from the killer’s point of view. While this usually
chapters where a main protagonist is in the middle holds the reader’s attention, the narrative drive o�en

doesn’t last once we get into the meat of the story. A “One of my biggest pet peeves is when writers try to
catchy opening scene is great, but all too o�en it falls stu� too much exposition into dialogue rather than
apart a�er the initial pages. I o�en refer people to the trusting their abilities as storytellers to get informa-
opening of Rosemary’s Baby by Ira Levin, which is tion across. I’m talking stu� like the mom saying,
about nothing more than a young couple getting an ‘Listen, Jimmy, I know you’ve missed your father ever
apartment. It is masterfully written and yet it doesn’t since he died in that mysterious boating accident last
appear to be about anything sinister at all. And it keeps year on the lake, but I’m telling you, you’ll love this
you reading.” summer camp!’ ”
—I�� G��, Irene Goodman Literary —C�� R��, Upstart Crow Literary
“�ings I dislike include: 1) Telling me what the weath- “I hate to see a whiny character who’s in the middle of
er’s like in order to set atmosphere. OK, it was raining. a �ght with one of their parents, slamming doors, roll-
It’s always raining. 2) Not starting with action. I want to ing eyes, and displaying all sorts of other stereotypical
have a sense of dread quite quickly—and not from rain! behavior. I also tend to have a hard time bonding with
3) Sending me anything but the beginning of the book; characters who address the reader directly.”
if you tell me that it ‘starts getting good’ on page 35, —K�� S��, Andrea Brown Literary
then I will tell you to start the book on page 35, because
if even you don’t like the �rst 34, neither will I or any ��
other reader.” ��
—J�� G��z��, Russell & Volkening, Inc. ��
� � � � � ��
YOUR THREE�
ACT STRUCTURE
During the 30-day challenge, you should
frequently re-evaluate your structure
so you end up with a compelling story.
��

S
tructure is what assembles the parts of a story spend the greater part of our time �guring out how to
in a way that makes them accessible to readers. solve the problem: Act II. A�er all of that wrestling,
It is the orderly arrangement of story material hopefully, we get the insight and answer—the resolu-
for the bene�t of the audience. tion of Act III.
Plot is about elements, those things that go into the �ere is something fundamentally sound about the
mix of making a good story even better. (See sidebar on three-act structure. As Buckminster Fuller taught, the
page 59 for more on plotting.) triangle is the strongest shape in nature (thus it is the
Structure is about timing—where in the mix those foundation of the geodesic dome he invented).
plot elements go. Similarly, almost all great jokes are built on a struc-
When you read a novel that isn’t quite grabbing ture of three—the setup, the body and the payo�. It is
you, the reason is probably structure. Even though never just an Irishman and a Frenchman entering a bar;
it may have good characters, snappy dialogue and you have to add an Englishman to make the joke work.
intriguing settings, the story isn’t unfolding in the In a novel, we must get to know some things in Act I
optimum fashion. before we can move on in the story. �en the problem is
Of course, the author may protest that this is his way,
presented, and the protagonist spends the greater part
and how dare anyone dictate what’s right and what isn’t
of the book wrestling with the problem (Act II). But
about his novel!
the book has to end sometime, with the problem solved
�at’s an author’s prerogative. But if we are talk-
(Act III).
ing about connection with readers, we have to talk
It has been said in writing classes and books that the
about structure.
three-act structure is dead (or silly or worthless). Don’t
�� believe it.
Why talk about a three-act structure? Because it works. �e three-act structure has endured because it works.
It has since Aristotle sat down to �gure out what If you choose to ignore this structure, you increase
makes drama. Why does the three-act structure work? the chance of reader frustration. If that’s your goal for
Probably because it is in line with how we live our lives. some artistic reason or other, �ne.
A three-step rhythm is inherent in much that we do. But at least understand why structure works—it
As the writing teacher Dwight Swain pointed out, helps readers get into the story.
we are born, we live and we die. It feels like three acts. Another way to talk about the three acts is simply as
Childhood is relatively short and introduces us to life. the beginning, middle and end. I like the way one wag
�at long section in the middle is where we spend most put it: beginning, muddle and end.
of our time. �en we have a last act that wraps every- Here, then, are the things that must happen in the
thing up. three acts. We will be going into more detail on each
Daily life is like that, too. We get up in the morning act in the next few chapters.
and get ready to go to work. We work or do whatever
we do. Eventually we wrap up the day’s business and ��
hit the sack. Beginnings are always about the who of the story. �e
We live each day in three acts. entry point is a lead character, and the writer should
On a micro-level, three acts is typical. Say we are begin by connecting the reader to the lead as quickly as
confronted with a problem. We react. �at’s Act I. We possible. Robin Hood went riding.
� � � � � ��
Imag i ne t he cou r t room scenes i n To Kill a main plot line or go back and snip them out.
Mockingbird coming at the beginning of the book. What Readers have long memories.
connection would there be with Atticus Finch? He’d • Give a feeling of resonance. �e best endings
certainly seem like a competent, caring lawyer, but leave a sense of something beyond the con�nes
our caring would not be as deep as it is later on. �at’s of the book. What does the story mean in the
because the beginning gives us glimpses of Atticus as larger sense?
a father, citizen, neighbor and lawyer. We get to know
him better through the eyes of his daughter, before we ��
track him to court. Ever since Star Wars writer-director George Lucas cred-
Beginnings have other tasks to perform. �e four ited Joseph Campbell for the mythic structure of the
most important are: �lm, we’ve had a plethora of books and articles about
• Present the story world—tell us something about the value of this template. And it is valuable because it
the setting, the time and the immediate context. is all about elements lining up—which is what struc-
• Establish the tone the reader will rely upon. ture means.
Is this to be a sweeping epic or a zany farce? Mythic structure, sometimes called “�e Hero’s
Action packed or dwelling more on character Journey” a�er the title of a book by Campbell, is an
change? Fast moving or leisurely? order of events. It comes in various forms, but usually
• Compel the reader to move on to the middle. follows a pattern similar to this:
Just why should the reader care to continue? • Readers are introduced to the hero’s world.
• Introduce the opposition. Who or what wants • A “call to adventure” or a disturbance inter-
to stop the lead? rupts the hero’s world.
• �e hero may ignore the call or the disturbance.
�� • �e hero “crosses the threshold” into a dark world.
�e major part of the novel is the confrontation, a series • A mentor may appear to teach the hero.
of battles between the protagonist and the opposition. • Various encounters occur with forces of darkness.
�ey fought. • �e hero has a dark moment within himself
�is is also where subplots blossom, adding com- that he must overcome in order to continue.
plexity to the novel and usually re�ecting the deeper • A talisman aids in battle (e.g., the shield of
meaning of the book. Athena for Perseus; the sword, Excalibur, for
�e various plot strands weave in and out of one King Arthur).
another, creating a feeling of inevitability while at the • �e �nal battle is fought.
same time surprising the reader in various ways. In • �e hero returns to his own world.
addition, the middle should: Why does this work? Because it perfectly corresponds
• Deepen character relationships. to the three-act structure:
• Keep us caring about what happens.
ACT I
• Set up the �nal battle that will wrap things up
[1] Readers are introduced to the hero’s world.
at the end.
[2] A “call to adventure” or a disturbance interrupts
the hero’s world.
��
[3] �e hero may ignore the call or the disturbance.
�e last part of the novel gives us the resolution of the
[4] �e hero “crosses the threshold” into a dark world.
big story. He won. �e best endings also:
• Tie up all loose ends. Are there story threads ACT II
that are le� dangling? You must either resolve [5] A mentor may appear to teach the hero.
these in a way that does not distract from the [6] Various encounters occur with forces of darkness.

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[7] �e hero has a dark moment within himself that ��

he must overcome. ��
[8] A talisman aids in battle. I �nd more than a bit of confusion among writers over
ACT III terms like plot point, inciting incident and other terms
[9] �e �nal battle is fought. commonly used by writing instructors, sometimes in
[10] �e hero returns to his own world. contradictory ways.
� � � � � ��
I want to stay away from these terms, and instead • �e protagonist witnessing an accident—or
try to describe what actually should happen at crucial a murder
points in the plot. It’s all really simple if you don’t get • A note from the protagonist’s wife (or hus-
hung up on the technical jargon. band), who is leaving
I’ll refer here to a disturbance and two doorways. If From a structural standpoint, the initial distur-
you understand what happens with each, structuring bance creates reader interest. It is an implicit prom-
your novel will be a breeze. ise of an interesting story yet to come. But it is not
yet the main plot because there is no confrontation.
��
�e opponent and protagonist are not yet locked in an
In the beginning of your novel, you start out by intro- unavoidable battle.
ducing a character who lives a certain life. �at is his In Mario Puzo’s �e Godfather, young Michael
starting point or, in mythic terms, the hero’s ordi- Corleone is determined to go straight, avoiding his
nary world. And it’s the place he’ll stay unless some- father’s way of life. But when the Don is shot and nearly
thing forces him to change. Unless he does change, killed, Michael’s world is rocked.
we’re going to have a pretty boring story because only a Yet Michael is not yet thrust into any confrontation.
threat or a challenge is of interest to readers. He can leave New York and start a new life elsewhere.
So very early in Act I something has to disturb the �e confrontation doesn’t happen, the story doesn’t
status quo. Just think about it from the reader’s stand- take o�, until the protagonist passes through the
point—something’s got to happen to make us feel �rst doorway.
there’s some threat or challenge happening to the char- In the George Lucas �lm Star Wars, there is an action
acters. Remember Hitchcock’s axiom. If something prologue. Darth Vader and his troops chase and capture
doesn’t happen soon, you’ve got a dull part. Princess Leia, but not before she dispatches a pod with R2-
�is disturbance does not have to be a major threat, D2 and C-3PO in it. �e droids land on the planet Tatooine
however. It can be anything that disturbs the placid and get captured by the Jawas, the junk merchants.
nature of the Lead’s ordinary life. Dean Koontz usu- We meet our lead character, Luke Skywalker, at work
ally begins his novels with such a disturbance. Here’s in his normal world on Tatooine, where he lives with his
the �rst line of his �e Door to December (written as aunt and uncle. His uncle buys the two droids. Within
Richard Paige): �ve minutes of this, we have a disturbance to Luke’s
As soon as she �nished dressing, Laura went to the front world—the distress hologram from Princess Leia ask-
door, just in time to see the L.A. Police Department ing for Obi-Wan Kenobi’s help.
squad car pull to the curb in front of the house. Eventually, Luke connects with Obi-Wan, who
views the hologram and asks Luke to help him
Now that’s a disturbance, something small to begin answer the call for help. Luke “refuses the call” (in
with, but a disturbance nonetheless. We don’t usu- mythic terms) by telling Obi-Wan he can’t leave his
ally feel complacent about a police car pulling up to aunt and uncle.
our home. �is is still not the doorway into Act II because Luke
�e number of possible disturbances is endless. Here can go on with his normal life. But when the Empire
are some examples: forces destroy Luke’s home and kill his aunt and uncle,
• A phone call in the middle of the night Luke is thrust into the Rebellion. He leaves his planet
• A letter with some intriguing news with Obi-Wan, and his adventure begins.
• �e boss calling the character into his o�ce
• A child being taken to the hospital ��
• �e car breaking down in a desert town How you get from beginning to middle (Act I to Act II),
• �e protagonist winning the lottery and from middle to end (Act II to Act III), is a matter

of transitioning. Rather than calling these plot points, Book I of �e Godfather ends with that transition.
I �nd it helpful to think of these two transitions as Michael shoots the Don’s enemy, Sollozzo, and the
“doorways of no return.” crooked cop, McCluskey. Now Michael can never go
�at explains the feeling you want to create. A straight again. He’s in the con�ict up to his eyeballs.
thrusting of the character forward. A sense of inevita- He cannot walk away from his choices.
bility. We are creatures of habit; we search for security. For Nicholas Darrow, the charismatic minister in
Our characters are the same. So unless there is some- Susan Howatch’s �e Wonder Worker, the inner stakes
thing to push the Lead into Act II, he will be quite are raised when he receives a shock to his upwardly
content to stay in Act I! He desires to remain in his spiraling ministry—his wife and the mother of his two
ordinary world. sons leaves him. It’s a blow that sends him reeling and
You need to �nd a way to get him out of the ordi- forces him to confront his own humanity. He de�nitely
nary and into the confrontation. You need something cannot walk away.
that kicks him through the doorway; otherwise, he’ll It’s crucial to understand the di�erence between
just keep sitting around the house. an initial disturbance (sometimes called an “inciting
Once through the doorway, the confrontation can incident”) and the �rst doorway of no return (some-
take place. �e �ght goes on throughout Act II, the times called a “plot point” or “crossing the threshold”
middle. But you’re going to have to end the story some- in mythic terms).
time. �us, the second doorway of no return must In the movie Die Hard, for example, New York
send the lead hurtling toward the knockout ending. cop John McClane has come to Los Angeles to spend
�ese two doorways hold your three acts together, Christmas with his estranged wife, Holly, and their
like pins in adjoining railroad cars. If they are weak children. He meets up with her at a high-rise build-
or nonexistent, your train won’t run. ing where she works for a large company. While
McClane is washing up in a bathroom, a team of
�� terrorists takes over the building and all the people
In order to get from beginning to middle—the �rst there. Except McClane, of course. He escapes to an
doorway—you must create a scene where your protag- upper floor.
onist is thrust into the main con�ict in a way that keeps We are now about 20 minutes into the �lm. �is is
him there. de�nitely a disturbance. But it is not yet the transition
In a suspense novel, the �rst doorway might be that into Act II.
point where the protagonist happens upon a secret that Why not? Because McClane and the terrorists are
the opposition wants to keep hidden at all costs. Now not locked in battle yet. �ey don’t know McClane is
there is no way out until one or the other dies. �ere in the building. He might open a window, climb out
can be no return to normalcy. John Grisham’s �e Firm and scurry away for help. Or �gure out a way to get a
is an example. phone call out. While McClane is trying to �gure out
Professional duty can be the doorway. A lawyer tak- just what to do, he secretly witnesses the murder of the
ing a case has the duty to see it through. So does a cop CEO of the big company.
with an assignment. Similarly, moral duty works for So McClane gets to an upper �oor again and pulls
transition. A son lost to a kidnapper obviously leads to a �re alarm. �is is the incident that sets up the con-
a parent’s moral duty to �nd him. �ict of Act II. Now the terrorists know someone is loose
�e key question to ask yourself is this: Can my pro- in the building. �ere is no way for McClane to resign
tagonist walk away from the plot right now and go on from the action. He’s through the �rst doorway, and
as he has before? If the answer is yes, you haven’t gone there’s going to be plenty of confrontation to come.
through the �rst doorway yet. �is all happens at the one-quarter mark.
� � � � � ��
�� still a good signpost, you can slide it to the right a

To move from the middle to the end—the second door- little if you so desire.
way of no return—something has to happen that sets
up the �nal confrontation. Usually it is some major ��
clue or piece of information, or a huge setback or crisis,
that hurtles the action toward a conclusion—usually
with one quarter or less of the novel to go.
In �e Godfather, the Don’s death is a setback to peace ��
among the ma�a families. It emboldens the enemies of
the Corleone family, forcing Michael to unleash a torrent
of death to establish his power once and for all.
�ese doorways work equally well in literary �c- Mastering structure and transitions will make your
tion. Leif Enger’s Peace Like a River has two perfectly novels more accessible even if you choose to deviate
placed transitions. �e �rst occurs when Reuben’s older from a linear unfolding. Add a ripping good story, and
brother, Davy, shoots and kills two people and must your novels may turn out to be unforgettable.
�ee. �is thrusts Reuben into the middle—the quest
to �nd Davy. �e second doorway opens when Davy ��
reappears, setting up the �nal battle within Reuben— �ese basic plot and structure elements will never fail
should he reveal where Davy is? you. A plot is about a lead character who has an objec-
Is it possible to write a novel that de�es these con- tive, something crucial to his well-being. �e major
ventions of structure? Certainly. Just understand that portion of plot is the confrontation with the opposition,
the more structure is ignored, the less chance the novel a series of battles over the objective. �is is resolved in
has to connect with readers. a knockout ending, an outcome that satis�es the story
questions and the readers.
�� A solid plot unfolds in three acts—a beginning, mid-
�e three-act structure comes from drama and is used dle and end.
extensively in �lm. In this formulation, the �rst “door- In the beginning, we get to know the lead, his world,
way of no return” usually happens about one-fourth of the tone of the story to come. We have some sort of dis-
the way into a �lm (in other words, within the �rst 30 turbance in the beginning to keep away the dull parts.
minutes of a two-hour movie): We move into the middle through a doorway of
no return, an incident that thrusts the lead into con-
�ict with the opposition. We need some sort of adhe-
��
sive to keep them together, something like professional
or moral duty, or a physical location. Death—physical,
professional or psychological—is o�en structure: what
holds your plot together a real possibility until the con-
��
�ict is settled. Some setback or crisis, or discovery or
clue, pushes the lead through the second doorway of no
In a novel, however, that first doorway needs to return. Now all the elements are there to get to that �nal
happen earlier, or the book will seem to drag. My battle or �nal choice that’s going to end the story.
rule of thumb is the one-fifth mark, though it can
happen sooner. ��
In addition, the �nal act may take place more ��
toward the end. So while the three-fourths mark is ��

��
SCENES:
THE BUILDING BLOCKS
OF YOUR NOVEL
Learn how to master the scene, and you’ll
be assured of a strong dra� that won’t fall apart
on you during revision.
Y
ou’ve felt the pulse-pounding drama of a good story, you’ve turned
pages at a furious clip, caught up in a book so real you felt as though
it was happening to you. What makes that story, book or essay come
to life? Strong, powerful scenes.
Writing is a wildly creative act, and therefore o�en seems to defy rules and
formulas. Just when a rule seems agreed upon, some writer comes along to
break it. While there is a formula to scene-writing, it’s not straightforward. It’s
not like a paint-by-numbers kit, where you �ll in the listed colors and voila, you
have a perfect painting of dogs playing poker, in all the right proportions. �e
scene-writing formula is more like the messy spontaneity of cooking: You start
with the ingredients the recipe calls for, but you work them in creatively, and
variations on the main ingredients yield di�erent, even surprising, results.
�e only certain result you want is to snare the reader’s attention with your
very �rst sentence. Since writing competes with the fast-paced, seductive
intensity of television and movies, your challenge is to write engaging scenes.
��
So what is a scene, exactly? Scenes are capsules in which compelling charac-
ters undertake signi�cant actions in a vivid and memorable way that allows
the events to feel as though they are happening in real time. When strung
together, individual scenes add up to build plots and storylines.
�e recipe for a scene includes the following basic ingredients:
• Characters who are complex and layered, and who undergo change
throughout your narrative
• A point of view through which the scenes are seen
• Memorable and signi�cant action that feels as if it is unfolding in
real time
• Meaningful, revealing dialogue when appropriate
� � � � � ��
• New plot information that advances your story the one I was wearing and followed me like my double on
and deepens characters the poop. Together we moved right a�, barefooted, silent.
• Con�ict and drama that tests your characters “What is it?” I asked in a deadened voice, taking the
and ultimately reveals their personalities lighted lamp out of the binnacle and raising it to his face.
• A rich physical setting that calls on all the sens- “An ugly business.” [Dialogue.]
es and enables the reader to see and enter into He had rather regular features; a good mouth; light
the world you’ve created eyes under somewhat heavy, dark eyebrows; a smooth
• A spare amount of summary or exposition square forehead; no growth on his cheeks; a small brown
Arguably, the one thing in that list that makes a scene mustache, and a well-shaped round chin. His expression
a scene is action—events happening and people acting was concentrated, meditative, under the inspecting light
out behaviors in a simulation of real time—but well- of the lamp I held up to his face; such as a man thinking
balanced scenes include a little bit of everything. Mixing hard in solitude might wear. [Detailed physical charac-
those ingredients together in varying amounts will yield ter description.] My sleeping suit was just right for his
drama, emotion, passion, power and energy; in short, size. A well-knit young fellow of 25 at most. He caught
a page-turner. Some scenes need more physical action, his lower lip with the edge of white, even teeth.
while others may require a lot of dialogue. Some scenes “Yes,” I said, replacing the lamp in the binnacle. �e
will take place with barely a word spoken, or with very warm heavy tropical night closed upon his head again.
small actions. Other scenes may require vivid interac- “�ere’s a ship over there,” he murmured.
tion with the setting. “Yes, I know. �e Sephora. Did you know of us?”
By pacing your scenes well and choosing the proper “Hadn’t the slightest idea. I am the mate of her—” He
length for each scene, you can control the kinds of emo- paused and corrected himself. “I should say I was.”
tional e�ects your scenes have, leaving the reader with “Aha! Something wrong?’
the feeling of having taken a satisfying journey. “Yes. Very wrong indeed. I’ve killed a man.” [Dramatic
tension and plot information.]
�� “What do you mean? Just now?”
To help clarify how all of the elements just discussed func- “No, on the passage. Weeks ago. �irty-nine south.
tion within a scene, here is a complex snippet of a scene When I say a man—”
from Joseph Conrad’s richly layered short story “�e “Fit of temper,” I suggested, con�dently.
Secret Sharer,” which I have labeled to show its parts. �e shadowy, dark head, like mine, seemed to nod
imperceptibly above the ghostly gray of my sleeping suit.
Before entering the cabin I stood still, listening in the lobby
It was, in the night, as though I had been faced by my
at the foot of the stairs. [First-person point of view.] A
own re�ection in the depths of a somber and immense
faint snore came through the closed door of the chief mate’s
mirror. [Using physical setting to create the desired
room. �e second mate’s door was on the hook, but the
eerie mood.]
darkness in there was absolutely soundless. [Physical set-
ting that invokes one of the senses: hearing.] He, too, was �ink of the elements illustrated in the marked sec-
young and could sleep like a stone. Remained the steward, tions above as crucial ingredients that you want to
but he was not likely to wake up before he was called. I got employ in your own writing. Conrad’s story is an exam-
a sleeping suit out of my room and, coming back on deck, ple of how unique each scene will be, even when you’re
saw the naked man from the sea sitting on the main hatch, using the same essential ingredients. You might choose
glimmering white in the darkness, his elbows on his knees a di�erent method of creating dramatic tension—like
and his head in his hands. [Action that provides a sense writing in the third-person point of view, opting for
of real time.] In a moment he had concealed his damp more or less dialogue (or none), or using very di�erent
body in a sleeping suit of the same gray-stripe pattern as actions to create a sense of real time—but you can see

At its best, powerful scene writing allows a reader to feel
as if he has entered the narrative and is participating in it,
rather than sitting passively by and receiving a lecture.
that Conrad did, in fact, use all the foundational ingre- You want the reader to see what you describe as vividly
dients of a scene, and held your attention. �is is exactly as you see your dreams at night; therefore, you must give
what your scenes need to do for your readers. the reader as much opportunity to do so as possible. You
must be detailed and speci�c, and provide enough sen-
�� sory clues to make the task of seeing easy.
What exactly does it mean to show and not tell? Should Narrative summary, on the other hand, o�ers words
your characters be doing wild strip-teases or crying only to the reader’s inner ear, as if someone were stand-
“Look, nothing up my sleeve,” before pulling out a rab- ing o� to the side whispering right to him. While the eye
bit? Only if you want, but in this case show is a caveat allows the reader to become emotionally involved, and
that means “don’t over-explain; trust your reader.” activates the heart and the viscera, the inner ear seems to
Telling, also known as narrating or narrative sum- be linked more closely to the function of sound. Too much
mary, is a form of explaining. And while every narra- stimulation on the inner ear can temporarily lull your
tive has some necessary summary, it must be used judi- reader, or even put him to sleep. �is is one of the reasons
ciously. Imagine yourself as the storyteller to a group of that narrative passages should be kept to a minimum.
enthralled children gathered around and hanging on Scenes use the ingredients mentioned earlier to con-
your every word. Say that right at the climax where Snow struct a powerful, vivifying experience that mimics life
White bites into the poisoned apple (a juicy bit of action), for the reader. At its best, powerful scene writing allows
you go o� on a tangent like this: “Snow White thought a reader to feel as if he has entered the narrative and is
about taking a bite of the apple, but she had been having participating in it, rather than sitting passively by and
trust issues since her stepmother had hired the woodcut- receiving a lecture. You know you’re in a scene when
ter to kill her. Remembering her stepmother’s betrayal your own heart is pumping and you’re white-knuckling
sent her into a whirlwind of doubt. …” the pages waiting to see what happens next. When you
Bored yet? You can bet those kids would be bounc- fall into the story and forget the world around you, the
ing in their chairs asking, “But what happened to Snow author has done a good job of immersing you in a scene.
White a�er she bit into the poisoned apple?!” Grown- Narrative summaries, when used in place of scene
up readers respond the same way to telling. work or when used in excess, cause the reader to feel
�ink about it another way: Most people read with that the writing is boring, condescending, or lecturing—
their physical eyes and a handy little part of the brain which will not win more readers.
known as the visual cortex. �e brain is, in fact, consid-
ered more important in the function of sight than the ��
eyes, and in the act of reading, this is even more true. One of the bene�ts of writing in scene form is that
�e brain helps the reader with the most important the ending of a scene provides a place for the reader
organ of reading, the inner eye, meaning the eye of the to comfortably take a pause. You may wonder when to
imagination (not some mystical link to spiritual realms). use a short scene versus a long scene. Once again, the
�is eye is responsible for constructing in the mind the decision rests with you, but we’ll take a quick look at
visual images that are rendered only in text on a page. the bene�ts of using either kind.
� � � � � ��
�� • Create a sense of urgency by dropping bits of

Generally speaking, if a scene runs to more than 15 information one by one, forcing the reader to
pages, it’s on the long side. A scene can be picked up, keep reading
read and put back down (though not too easily!), leav- Whether you go long or short depends on your own
ing the reader with more information than he had before. stylistic preferences. Just keep in mind that length
Even the most avid reader wants to pause eventually, and a�ects pacing as you decide what kind of �ow you want
scene and chapter breaks o�er them chances to do so. for your manuscript.
Long scenes don’t need to be avoided, but they should
be peppered in sparingly. Too many long scenes in a
��
Each scene needs to have its own beginning, middle and
row will cause your narrative to drag.
Use long scenes in the novel when you want to: end. �e beginning should be vivid and memorable, and
• Intentionally slow down the pace a�er lots of ac- help immediately draw your reader into the scene. Scene
tion or intense dialogue to allow the protagonist middles are the vast territory where the stakes must be
and the reader to digest what has happened, and raised, characters get caught in con�ict and consequences
to build new tension and suspense follow that keep your plot interesting. Scene endings, of
• Include a lot of big action in a given scene (�ghts, course, set the stage for the scenes that follow, and leave
chases, explosions)—so the scene doesn’t hinge a feeling or taste with the reader that should be unforget-
on action alone table. When all three sections of a scene are handled well,
• Add a dialogue scene that, in order to feel realis- the result is an incredibly vivid reading experience.
tic, needs to run long ��
�� Each new scene still has a responsibility to the idea or
A scene that takes place in 10 or fewer pages can com- plot you started with, which is to communicate your idea
fortably be considered short. Some scenes are as short in a way that is vivifying for the reader and that provides
as a couple of pages. Short scenes o�en make readers an experience, not a lecture. Scene launches, therefore,
hungry for more. But remember that too many short pave the way for all the robust consequences of the idea
scenes in a row can make the �ow of the plot feel or plot to unfurl. Each scene launch is a reintroduction,
choppy, and disrupt the continuity that the wise writer capturing your reader’s attention all over again.
John Gardner said creates a dream for the reader. You want to start each scene by asking yourself the
A short scene has to achieve the same goals as a lon- following questions:
ger scene, and in less time. It must still contain main • Where are my characters in the plot? Where did
characters engaging in actions based upon scene inten- I leave them and what are they doing now?
tions. New information must be revealed that drives • What is the most important piece of informa-
the plot forward. �e setting must be clear. In the short tion that needs to be revealed in this scene?
scene, you have even less room for narrative summary. Only you and the course of your narrative can decide
You’re best using short scenes when you need to: which kinds of launches will work best for each scene,
• Di�erentiate one character from another (a se- and choosing the right launch o�en takes some exper-
cretive, shy, or withdrawn character, for instance, imentation. �is section will provide you with tech-
might only get short scenes, while an outspoken niques for launching with characters, actions, narrative
character may get longer scenes) summary or setting.
• Pick up the pace right after a long scene �� . It’s generally a good idea
• Leave the reader hungry for more or breathless to get your characters on the page sooner rather than
with suspense later. And, depending on how many points of view you
• Include multiple scenes within a chapter use, the majority of scenes should involve your main

character(s) (although there may be scenes from which
your main character needs to be excluded, for the sake ��
of your plot). If you write fantasy or science �ction, your ��
characters may not be people, but dragons, elves, robots ��
or any of a vast miscellany of other life-forms; just be ��
sure the reader knows who and what your characters are. ��
�e edict is still the same—bring your character into the ��
scene as soon as possible. � ��
Remember, if your scene launch goes on for too ��
many paragraphs in passive description or narrated � ��
ideas without characters coming into play, the reader ��
might begin to feel lectured to, or impatient for some- � ��
thing to happen and someone for it to happen to. If � ��
your character isn’t present by the second paragraph in ��
any given scene, you’re in danger of losing the reader. ��
�� . Many writers believe they ��
must explain every bit of action that is going on right ��
from the start of a scene, but narrative summary ��
defeats action. �e sooner you start the action in a ��
scene, the more momentum it has to carry the reader
forward. If you �nd yourself explaining an action,
• Be sure that the action is true to your charac-
then you’re not demonstrating the action any lon-
ter. Don’t have a shy character choose to be-
ger; you’re �oating in a distant star system known as
come suddenly uninhibited at the launch of a
Nebulous Intellectulus—more commonly known as
scene—save that for scene middles. Do have a
your head—and so is the reader.
bossy character belittle another character in a
Keep in mind the key elements of action: time and
way that creates con�ict.
momentum. It takes time to plan a murder over late-night
• Act �rst, think later. If a character is going to
whispers; for a drunk character to drop a jar at the grocery;
think in your action opening, let the action
to blackmail a betraying spouse; or to kick a wall in anger.
come �rst. “Elizabeth slapped the Prince. When
�ese things don’t happen spontaneously, they happen
his face turned pink, horror �lled her. What
over a period of time. �ey are sometimes quick, some-
have I done? she thought.”
times slow, but once started, they unfold until �nished.
�e key to creating strong momentum is to start an ��. Writers o�en try to include
action without explaining anything. narrative summary, such as descriptions of the history
To create an action launch: of a place or the backstory of characters, right at the
• Get straight to the action. Don’t drag your feet launch of a scene, believing that the reader will not be
here. “Jimmy jumped o� the cli�”; not “Jimmy patient enough to allow actions and dialogue to tell the
stared at the water, imagining how cold it would story. In large doses, narrative summary is to scenes
feel when he jumped.” what voice-overs are to movies—a distraction and an
• Hook the reader with big or surprising actions. interruption.
A big or surprising action—outburst, car crash, Yet a scene launch is actually one of the easier places
violent heart attack, public �ght—at the launch to use a judicious amount of narrative summary (since
of a scene allows for more possibilities within you’ve only just gotten the reader’s attention), so long as
the scene. you don’t keep the reader captive too long.
� � � � � ��
Take the opening of an early scene in Amanda Eyre imparted simply in order to set action in motion
Ward’s novel How to Be Lost. later in the scene. Consider the following sentenc-
es, which could easily lead to actions: “My mother
�e a�ernoon before I planned how I would tell her. I
was dead before I arrived.” “�e war had begun.”
would begin with my age and maturity, allude to a new
“�e storm le� half of the city under water.”
lover, and �nish with a bouquet of promises: grandchil-
• When a character’s thoughts or intentions can-
dren, handwritten letters, boxes from Ti�any sent in
not be revealed in action. Coma victims, el-
time to beat the rush. I sat in my apartment drinking
derly characters, small children, and other
Scotch and planning the words.
characters sometimes cannot speak or act for
�e above bit is almost entirely narrative summary, physical, mental or emotional reasons; there-
and the only action—drinking Scotch—is described, fore, the scene may need to launch with narra-
not demonstrated. �ere is no real setting, and the tion to let the reader know what the characters
only visual cues the reader has are vague and abstract. think and feel.
However, the narrative summary does demonstrate
Caroline’s nature—she feels she must butter her mother ��
up, bribe her even, in order to ask for something she ��
needs, which turns out to be a relatively small thing. Where, exactly, is the middle of a scene? �e term mid-
It re�ects Caroline’s tendency to live in her head, and dle is misleading because scenes vary in length and
shows us that Caroline is the kind of person who must there is no precise midpoint. �e best explanation is
prepare herself mentally for di�cult things—a theme to think of each scene’s middle as a realm of possibility
that recurs throughout the book. It’s also useful because between the scene opening and its ending, where the
Caroline spends a lot of time by herself, cutting herself major drama and con�ict of the scene unfolds.
o� from her relationships, and, therefore, it is very true If you grabbed the reader’s attention with an evoca-
to her personality. In just one short paragraph of nar- tive scene launch, the middle of your scene is the prov-
rative summary, the reader learns a lot about Caroline, ing ground, the Olympic opportunity to hook the
and Ward gets to action in the next paragraph: reader and never let her go.
You must complicate your characters’ lives, and
Georgette stretched lazily on the balcony. An ambu-
you must do it where the reader can see it—in scenes.
lance wailed below. A man with a shopping cart stood
Doing so is known as upping the ante. �at phrase is
underneath my apartment building, eating chicken
most o�en heard in gambling circles when the initial
wings and whistling.
bet goes up, making the potential win greater, along
If the entire scene had continued in narrative sum- with the risk. What you must ante up in your scenes
mary, it most certainly would have had a sedative e�ect are those things your characters stand to lose (or even
on the reader, and the scene’s momentum would have gain), from pride, to a home, to deep love. When you up
been lost. the ante, you build anticipation, signi�cance and sus-
Narrative launches should be reserved for the fol- pense that drive the narrative forward and bring the
lowing occasions: reader along for the ride.
• When narrative summary can save time. Some- �is process is both terrible and wonderful. Terrible,
times actions will simply take up more time and because you must hurt your characters—you must take
space in the scene than you would like. A scene beloved people and possessions away from them, with-
beginning needs to move fairly quickly, and on oc- hold desires, and sometimes even kill them for the sake
casion, summary will get the reader there faster. of drama or tension. Yet it is also wonderful, because
• When information needs to be communicated be- your mucking about in your characters’ lives will make
fore an action. Sometimes information needs to be the reader more emotionally invested in them.

In its simplest form, a traditional �ctional nar- relief from an intense scene, and pulling back provides
rative should address a problem that needs to be him an opportunity to catch his breath or re�ect on all
resolved or a situation that needs to be understood. that has just transpired.
Something like these: A young girl �nds herself preg- ��. If you really want to be
nant and abandoned by her family and her lover, so sure that your reader will not stop for breath and press
she falls into a life of prostitution on her road to spir- forward, you’re best o� employing the cli�anger end-
itual redemption; a relative dies and leaves all his ing. Cli�angers can happen in a variety of ways and
money to one family member, which launches a fam- in almost any scene when you want to leave the reader
ily feud; parents turn around at the mall and discover on the edge, uncertain of the outcome: A character is
their child missing. �e problem or situation must le� in grave peril; an action is cut short at the precipice
also include or encompass smaller problems (o�en of an outcome; or the tables are turned completely on
called plot points) with consequences, which is where your character’s perception of reality. What all of those
scenes come in. scenarios have in common is suspense. �ey leave the
Earlier, I mentioned the need to set scene intentions. reader wondering every time.
(See sidebar on page 67.) An intention is your direction Cli�angers draw the reader so deeply into the
to yourself as to what aspect of the larger plot prob- action that there is very little chance she will put down
lem you will set into play in a given scene. Remember, the book at that point. �ey have a tendency to pump
your scenes transform �at ideas into experiences for adrenaline into the reader’s heart, so you want to be
the reader. careful not to end every scene on such a note.
��
�e end of a scene is a space for the readers to take a An important way you keep your protagonist from
breath and digest all that they have just �nished read- wandering aimlessly about your narrative is to give
ing. Endings linger in memory because they are where him an intention in every scene—a job that he wants
things �nally begin to add up and make sense. At the to carry out that will give purpose to the scene. �e
end of a scene, if it has been done well, the reader will intention doesn’t come from nowhere—it stems
have more knowledge of and a greater investment in directly from the signi�cant situation of your plot
the plot and characters, and feel more compelled to and from your protagonist’s personal history. An
�nd out what happens next. In fact, you know you’ve intention is a character’s plan to take an action, to
done your work when the reader reaches the end of a do something, whereas a motivation is a series of
scene and absolutely must press on. For novels, o�en reasons, from your protagonist’s personal history to
each chapter is one long scene. his mood, that accounts for why he plans to take an
It is helpful to put scene endings in one of two cat- action. In every scene these intentions will drive the
egories: zoom-in endings and zoom-out endings. Just action and consequences; they will help you make
like a camera can zoom in or out on the image cap- each scene relevant to your plot and character devel-
tured in its lens, endings should either bring the reader opment. Intentions are an important way to build
up close or pull back and provide a wider perspective. drama and con�ict into your narrative, too, because
Anything that invites intimacy or emotional con- as your protagonist pursues his intention, you will
tact with the characters and their plight at the end of oppose it, thwart it, intensify his desire for it, and
a scene has a zoom-in e�ect on readers, drawing the maybe, only at the end of your narrative, grant him
readers closer, even uncomfortably close in order to the satisfaction of achieving it.
ensure that they have an emotional experience.
Zoom-out endings pull away from intimacy or ��
immediacy. �e reader o�en needs a bit of emotional ��
� � � � � ��
��
5 TECHNIQUES
TO KEEP YOUR STORY
MOVING FORWARD
It’s called the “Mushy Middle” for a reason.

Find out how to keep readers interested
during Act II and beyond.
O
ne of the hurdles you’ll face in your story’s second act is �nd-
ing ways to re-raise stakes e�ectively. If you think of suspense
as coming only in big, pulse-pounding moments of action or
drama, with each scene being bigger than the last, then you’re
going to �nd out that constantly one-upping yourself in this way just isn’t
sustainable (nor is it truly suspenseful). Pulse-pounding scenes repeating
back-to-back cease to be pulse pounding at all; it’s like going to see a block-
buster summer movie that has so many car chases, billowing explosions and
hot gun�ghts that the spectacle becomes boring.
I bring up �lm because I think the form has had a negative in�uence on the
way many writers think about building suspense and tension in �ction. We’re
so accustomed to seeing how movies deliver these moments that we lose
sight of the fact that silence is suspense. (Jonathan Demme, who directed the
movie version of �e Silence of the Lambs, has said the scariest thing a �lm-
maker can show is a closed door. �e terror comes not from seeing what’s on
the other side but from the anticipation of what might be.)
Certainly there’s a place for spectacle in �ction, but when you �nd your-
self writing toward those much-anticipated moments of suspense in your
second act, consider how turning down the volume could better serve to
ratchet up the anxiety and intensity of the scene. And that’s exactly where
we’ll start our discussion.
��
One of the most horrifying moments in Cormac McCarthy’s �e Road comes
when the father and son, hungry and desperate, stumble upon an apparently
abandoned house, which the father believes—or simply hopes—might have
supplies inside. If the father notices anything odd about the house he gives

no indication; besides, they’re in such straits by this Hurry. For God’s sake hurry.
point they can’t a�ord not to go in. �e boy, on the other He shoved the boy through the hatch and sent him
hand, begs for them to keep moving almost as soon as sprawling. He stood and got hold of the door and swung
they’ve spotted the house, in spite of the fact that there’s it over and let it slam down and he turned to grab the
no apparent need to fear. �e boy’s feeling foreshadows boy but the boy had gotten up and was doing his lit-
the danger they’re about to walk into, an e�ective tool in tle dance of terror. For the love of God will you come
building suspense. We’re put on edge because the boy is on, he hissed. But the boy was pointing out the win-
on edge, though neither he nor we know exactly why. dow and when he looked he went cold all over. Coming
Inside the father and son investigate slowly room by across the �eld toward the house were four bearded
room, deliberately, with McCarthy stretching the ten- men and two women. He grabbed the boy by the hand.
sion and time of the scene through stark detail and Christ, he said. Run. Run.
description: “�e ashes were cold. Some blackened pots
stood about … He stood and looked out the window.
Gray trampled grass. Gray snow …”
Finally the two come to a pantry where the father �e power of stillness: an
notices a hatch door that’s been padlocked; something’s
valuable enough inside to keep it locked. �e father goes
intensi�er, a marker, an
out to a dilapidated tool shed and �nds a spade he can ability to define what
use to pry o� the lock while the boy continues begging
for them to leave. surrounds it, using anti-
Once the father breaks the lock, he and the boy open
the hatch and descend inside:
dramatic, antinarrative
He started down the rough wooden steps. He ducked means.” ��
his head and then �icked the lighter and swung the
�ame out over the darkness like an o�ering. Coldness
Our too-automatic tendency in writing such a scene
and damp. An ungodly stench. �e boy clutched at his
would be to make it loud, clumsy and chaotic, like a scene
coat. He could see part of a stone wall. Clay �oor. An
from a hostage movie or a bank heist (Now-now-now!-
old mattress darkly stained. He crouched and stepped
Move-move-move!-Let’s-go!-Let’s-go!). McCarthy goes
down again and held out the light. Huddled against
the opposite direction, and it’s the chilling quiet of the
the back wall were naked people, male and female, all
scene that makes it all the more terrifying and claustro-
trying to hide, shielding their faces with their hands.
phobic, aided by the deliberate pacing, the dark images
On the mattress lay a man with his legs gone to the
and the strange understatement of such an intense,
hip and the stumps of them blackened and burnt. �e stomach-dropping moment. �e same can be said for
smell was hideous. the scenes on either side of it, too—before, the father
Jesus, he whispered. and son searching the house, and a�er, the two hiding
�en one by one they turned and blinked in the piti- in the tall weeds barely outside the house, the father try-
ful light. Help us, they whispered. Please help us. ing to suppress a cough that would give them away, as
Christ, he said. Oh Christ. He turned and grabbed the four bearded men and two women come looking for
the boy. Hurry, he said. Hurry. He dropped the lighter. them. Turning down the volume turns up the tension.
No time to look. He pushed the boy up the stairs. Help
us, they called. Hurry. ��
A bearded face appeared blinking at the foot of the Tension-raising dialogue works the same way; it’s too
stairs. Please, he called. Please. easy, and also wrongheaded, to think that important
� � � � � ��
moments of con�ict have to be shouting matches, the “I think it’s the best thing to do. But I don’t want
same way hysterical characters spit their lines toward you to do it if you don’t really want to.”
each other in bad TV melodramas. Again, it’s restraint “And if I do it you’ll be happy and things will be like
and silence in dialogue—the not-said—that o�en they were and you’ll love me?”
reveals the true depth of tension in a conversation, even “I love you now. You know I love you.”
more so than what’s actually said. “I know. But if I do it, then it will be nice again if I
�e classic example is Ernest Hemingway’s short say things are like white elephants, and you’ll like it?”
story “Hills Like White Elephants,” which is delivered “I’ ll love it. I love it now but I just can’t think
almost entirely in (understated) dialogue. �e two about it … .”
characters in the story are an American couple trav-
eling abroad in order to procure a medical procedure
that neither will directly state—but which the reader
discerns—is an abortion. �e levels of the not-said in Arguments are most
the characters’ conversation also reveal the strained
state of the relationship and the imbalance of power.
nerve-wracking when
�ough, again, these are things the characters never the characters imply
directly state, likely because they don’t want to admit
it to themselves: what they feel instead
“It’s really an awfully simple operation, Jig,” the man of coming right out and
said. “It’s not really an operation at all.”
�e girl looked at the ground the table legs rested on.
saying it ... If you’re
“I know you wouldn’t mind it, Jig. It’s really not any- trying to build pressure,
thing. It’s just to let the air in.” �e girl did not say
anything. don’t take the lid o�
“’I’ll go with you and I’ll stay with you all the time.
�ey just let the air in and then it’s all perfectly natural.”
the pot.” ��
“�en what will we do a�erwards?”
“We’ll be �ne a�erwards. Just like we were before.”
“What makes you think so?” What’s not being said in this scene are the very things
“�at’s the only thing that bothers us. It’s the only the two should be saying—the deeper problems in their
thing that’s made us unhappy.” relationship, their dueling thoughts on the operation,
�e girl looked at the bead curtain, put her hand out the subtle coercion on the man’s part in convincing Jig
and took hold of two of the strings of beads. to go through with it—and yet we, as readers, under-
“And you think then we’ll be all right and be happy.” stand what’s not being said perfectly; the not-said is
“I know we will. You don’t have to be afraid. I’ve
what makes the scene tense and ultimately heartbreak-
known lots of people that have done it.”
ing. Notice, too, just how much emotion is evident, but
“So have I,” said the girl. “And a�erwards they were
restrained, in the scene. Hemingway gets at this very
all so happy.”
“Well,” the man said, “if you don’t want to you don’t simply: �ere are no big outbursts, no wild accusa-
have to. I wouldn’t have you do it if you didn’t want to. tions … No one even raises a voice. Furthermore the
But I know it’s perfectly simple.” dialogue tags aren’t loaded with fake bristling emotion
“And you really want to?” via adverbs—she said tearfully, he said bitingly, etc. In

fact the tags only seem to be used, when they’re used, to meaning you intend to convey from the conversation
make sure we don’t lose track of who is speaking. �e and how best to show it.
understatement and quietness of the scene are what Consider the following example from Grace Paley’s
create the anxiety. We almost wish they’d raise their short story “A Conversation With My Father” in which
voices to break the tension—which is, of course, why the narrator, a writer, attempts to construct a “happy”
Hemingway refuses to. story for her dying father, which isn’t entirely successful:
Look for opportunities in your second act to cre- First my father was silent, then he said, “Number One:
ate tension in the same way: by getting quiet and using You have a nice sense of humor. Number Two: I see
silence to build suspense. you can’t tell a plain story. So don’t waste time.” �en
he said sadly, “Number �ree: I suppose that means
�� she was alone, she was le� like that, his mother. Alone.
Dialogue, for whatever reason, seems to give many Probably sick?”
young writers �ts. Maybe this stems from the fact I said, “Yes.”
that such writers believe that their novels have sev- “Poor woman. Poor girl, to be born in a time of fools,
eral voices: the one that emerges from narration and to live among fools. �e end. �e end. You were right
then many di�erent ones that belong to the characters. to put that down. �e end.”
And to a certain degree this is correct: Your charac- I didn’t want to argue, but I had to say, “Well, it is
ters should have recognizable voices that emerge in not necessarily the end, Pa.”
conversation to reveal who they are. But these voices “Yes,” he said, “what a tragedy. �e end of a person.”
shouldn’t really be separate from—incongruous with— “No, Pa,” I begged him. “It doesn’t have to be. She’s
the voice in narration. only about 40. She could be a hundred di�erent things
In fact, it might be helpful to think of dialogue as in this world as time goes on. A teacher or a social
an extension of narration rather than an interruption worker. An ex-junkie! Sometimes it’s better than hav-
of it. Dialogue isn’t “real” in that it approximates the ing a master’s in education.”
way we speak in real life, which, if we were to tran- “Jokes,” he said. “As a writer that’s your main trouble.
scribe it accurately, would be far too redundant and You don’t want to recognize it. Tragedy! Plain tragedy!
uninspired for the page. Instead, dialogue is stylized Historical tragedy! No hope. �e end.”
speech—polished, precise and rhythmic. And when “Oh, Pa,” I said. “She could change.”
it is well-styled, well-crafted, the dialogue becomes “In your own life, too, you have to look it in the face.”
authentic to us, in part because of its distinctiveness. He took a couple of nitroglycerin. “Turn to �ve,” he said,
It’s so specific and stylized and concrete, the reader pointing to the dial on the oxygen tank. He inserted the
accepts it as real. tubes into his nostrils and breathed deep. He closed his
Technically speaking, all dialogue is �ltered through eyes and said, “No.”
narration; it’s not as if a narrator gives us only the para- �e occasion for the conversation, the motivation of
graphs and then disappears whenever a character opens the characters, is simple—tell me a “true” story—but the
his mouth (the fact that dialogue has quotation marks interaction of the two characters through dialogue cre-
around it even signals it’s being quoted rather than ates a full emotional weight in the scene. Notice how styl-
directly spoken). It’s styled the same way that images ized the dialogue really is, particularly the father’s lines:
and metaphors are styled through narration: with spe- the repetition as he considers the story (“�e end. �e
ci�c goals in mind, to create the illusion of a reality, to end. You were right to put that down.”), his occasional
create verisimilitude. How you cra� a particular bit of exhortations or declarations (“Poor girl, to be born in
dialogue depends upon knowing who your characters a time of fools, to live among fools.”), even the stark
are and what they want, but it also has to do with what e�ect of his simple last line, uttered seemingly apropos
� � � � � ��
Too many inexperienced writers linger on those moments

that are of no real consequence, while rushing over or
summarizing those moments that should be built up.
of nothing as he inserts his oxygen tubes and breathes: those moments that are of no real consequence in a story
“No.” �e dialogue is at once particular to the individual while rushing over or summarizing those moments that
characters—the narrator making uncomfortable jokes to should be built up.
try to lighten the situation, the father calling her out—yet In such cases, we’ll see pages of driving to a destina-
similar in terms of delivery, cadence and mood. In fact tion, with a protagonist thinking about what might hap-
the dialogue sounds like it could be part of the narration; pen there, or thinking about what just happened, and
we could remove the quotation marks and streamline it we’ll also stop at tra�c lights, go through a drive-thru,
into paragraphs without losing the e�ect. listen to the car stereo.
Again, practically speaking, these are lines you’re �en, when the protagonist �nally arrives, instead of
unlikely to hear spoken in real life. �ink back to the embracing the con�ict in the scene and letting us stay
last time you visited someone in a hospital; had there in the moment, the writer will rush over, gloss over
been a man there in his powder-blue gown sitting up in or summarize the information the scene is designed
bed and exclaiming, “What a tragedy, the end of a per- to give us so that he can get the hero quickly back in
son!” you would’ve probably backed away, thinking the the car and out of there … having the character think
poor man nuts. But in the context of a story, this styl- some more about what just happened as he looks for
ized dialogue seems real to us. We don’t put it up against another drive-thru.
a picture of what a real man in the hospital would look A lot happens in your character’s day that’s of abso-
like, but we certainly picture—and hear—what this man lutely no importance to us as readers. �ink of Jack
is like. �e dialogue creates a convincing illusion of real- Bauer in the TV show 24 (but only for a moment, please).
ity. (And it also, in spots, breaks your heart.) Does this man never stop at a bathroom? No time for
�ink of your own dialogue in the same way: not a sandwich? I think we can assume he does eventually
as outside, interrupting voices entering the text but as stop his running around, gun-pointing and cell-phone-
extensions of your narrative voice. You might even get yelling to take care of the mundane necessities, but the
the hang of cra�ing dialogue by omitting the quotation directors and writers wisely choose to show Bauer in
marks and thinking of the character’s voices as being moments of con�ict and drama, with brief moments of
�ltered or channeled through your primary narrative repose and release to catch our breaths and to suggest
voice. Hopefully what emerges will be as focused and the next con�ict he’ll face. A full episode devoted to his
precise as all other aspects of your narration, while looking for a nearby Starbucks when there’s never one
also being distinctive to your individual characters around is about as compelling as when I spend a half-
and their personalities. hour looking for one. Far less so, in fact, because my
co�ee �x is not on the line.
�� This is not to say that every scene in your novel
For whatever reason—maybe because our natural must contain a lit fuse snaking toward explosion, or
impulse as human beings is to avoid con�ict, when our at least not literally. Quiet, mundane moments are
tendency as a novelist should be to welcome it and rush important, too—as long as they show us something
toward it—too many inexperienced writers linger on of the character, situation or what’s at stake. But when

you catch your character ambling, just doing things case with the relatively simple transitions, such as before,
because he can, as if bored, then it’s time to tighten a�er, later, eventually, subsequently and more like them.
the tension by either refocusing the scene or doing Transitions like these are shortcuts to future events or
away with it altogether. quick trips back to past ones, bypassing the tedious or
Here are a few tools you might use to keep your pac- unimportant moments between but still giving a proper
ing tight and your reader’s attention focused: sense of time and perspective. If you’re in the present
�� When you or I moment and know you need something to happen later
have to get across town, in real life, then we have to grab on with your character, see how easy it is to begin your
our keys and wallet, get to the car and crank it up, �nd a next line: “Later, he ...” or “Later on, when he ...”
good radio station, obey tra�c laws, spend 20 minutes I know this seems too easy, but you’ll be surprised
navigating the freeway and getting honked at, �nally just how much material you’ll be able to cover this way,
arrive, �nd a parking space, pat our pocket for our cell and cover simply.
phone, get out of the car, go back to the car because we
forgot to lock it, etc. In other words, in real life we are ��
bound by the laws of matter, time and space. Manipulating the powers of time and space is one excel-
But as a writer, you are not bound by them. You don’t lent way to control the pacing of your novel, but you also
need to show your character drive across town if you control the focus of your work: what to zoom in on, what
don’t want to. You don’t even need to show him walk to pull back from, what to minimize and maximize.
across a room unless it suits your needs. �at’s because ��Writers don’t build a reality by show-
in �ction, you control time and space … and you do so ing everything going on but by being selective with what
with a few indispensable tools: they show, choosing a few speci�c images or details that
��We tend to think of dark space, the have the e�ect of standing in for and creating the illu-
print, as the really important part of a narrative, but the sion of the whole. �e metaphor used to describe this
way you use white space is every bit as important. First, principle is the iceberg; all we really see of an iceberg
it’s aesthetically pleasing, o�ering the eyes a moment is the tip, a small part of it, but from that small part, we
of much-needed rest. It o�ers the reader a moment of understand the enormity of what lies beneath.
rest, too, a space to take a breath before moving on to To illustrate, think about how you’d describe a place you
the next scene. It’s also the ultimate end punctuation enjoy going to, or that you dislike. If you were to describe
mark, forcing us to slow down and remain on a partic- either one to a friend—let’s call the place a co�ee shop—
ular point, moment or line and really take it in. �ere you wouldn’t begin by saying, “Well, there’s a door, and you
can be nothing more upli�ing, nor more devastating go in that door, and then there’s a �oor and you walk on
(in a good way), than a sharp, powerful, well-delivered that. Right by the door on the right there’s a station with
line followed by a bit of pure white page. half and half and milk and sugar and fake sugar and nap-
And, in the context of time, space and pacing, white kins and wooden stirrers, and on the other side of the door
space is your very own Star Trek transporter. Need a is a metal trash can with a black bag sticking out the top,
character to go a dry cleaner clear across town? White and just inside the door on the one side are two tables with
space, then �rst line of the next scene: He walked in, four wooden chairs each and two windows, and on the
rang the bell for service, and then took a number, even other side of the aisle are three plush chairs …”
though he was the only person there. Instead, you’d choose the speci�c details that help
Needless to say, white space can be your best friend make your bigger point about the place and how you
in minimizing what’s not important—even getting rid hate it, let’s say—the yellow lighting, the lack of seating,
of it altogether—and maximizing what is. the yuppie businessman booming into his cell phone
��Sometimes a single word is enough to like he’s talking to someone in outer space—and you’d
keep your �ction active and forward-moving, as is the let those few speci�cs create the whole experience.
� � � � � ��
“Show, don’t tell” is misleading advice, and writers who take

the advice literally, who think they should show everything
and tell nothing, are really doing themselves a disservice.
�� “Show, don’t tell,” like age one �nds in “college alumni bulletins,” showing their
“write what you know,” is misleading advice, and awareness of status and meeting it; that Irene has a wide
writers who take the advice literally, who think they forehead “on which nothing at all had been written”;
should show everything and tell nothing, are really that Jim struck a manner that was “intentionally naïve.”
doing themselves a disservice. All of these give the reader a greater sense of who the
Every writer shows and tells; it’s the proper balance Westcotts are, what they value, while at the same time o�er-
of these that creates meaning. A good example comes ing sly commentary on them, revealing aspects of their
from John Cheever’s short story “�e Enormous Radio,” personality and attitudes that the Westcotts wouldn’t, and
which from the beginning balances both showing and probably couldn’t, tell us about themselves. And it accom-
telling to give us a picture of the protagonists, Jim and plishes this much more quickly and e�ciently, by com-
Irene Westcott: bining showing and telling, than showing alone could.
�� Long
Jim and Irene Westcott were the kind of people who seem stretches of either narration or dialogue are other ways
to strike that satisfactory average of income, endeavor, and of boring a reader, leading him to start scanning, looking
respectability that is reached by the statistical reports in col- for keywords to get through the passage rather than really
lege alumni bulletins. �ey were the parents of two young reading. Look out for long passages of straight narration or
children, they had been married nine years, they lived on uninterrupted dialogue in your work, and when you �nd
the 12th �oor of an apartment house near Sutton Place, them, look for ways to balance the two to keep the pace
they went to the theatre on an average of 10.3 times a quick and forward-moving and to get across information
year, and they hoped someday to live in Westchester. Irene through interaction rather than summary or soliloquy.
Westcott was a pleasant, rather plain girl with so� brown
hair and a wide, �ne forehead upon which nothing at all ��
had been written, and in the cold weather she wore a coat �e end of each chapter should feel like a completion, a
of �tch skins dyed to resemble mink. You could not say that satisfying conclusion to a particular problem or arc, but
Jim Westcott looked younger than he was, but you could at it should also urge the reader on, should contain enough
least say of him that he seemed to feel younger. He wore his mystery and promise and excitement to make her, even
graying hair cut very short, he dressed in the kind of clothes though it’s late, think, “Well, maybe just one more …”
his class had worn at Andover, and his manner was ear- �at doesn’t mean that you should end every chap-
nest, vehement, and intentionally naïve. ter with a kind of cli�anger, like a Saturday-morning
serial from the ’40s. What it means is that the answer
�e Westcotts are people who want to be part of a cer- you provide at the end of a chapter raises another
tain social class—or who at least want to be perceived question that propels your narrative, tempts the
that way—and Cheever uses some �ne showing to help reader to keep going and keeps up the momentum—
make the point (the best example: that Irene dyes her the pacing—of your work.
�tchskin coat so it looks like mink).
But notice just how much of this paragraph involves ��
telling: that they strive for the kind of respectable aver- ��

��
THE ART OF
CLOSING WELL
Readers deserve a satisfying ending. Here’s how
to anticipate and shape a memorable climax,
closing act and denouement.
T
he momentum of the third act—with the momentum of the entire
book behind it—makes the act a whole lot of fun to write, as both
author and reader feel propelled toward the �nal confrontation in
the book and the resolution of the story.
But in spite of the anticipation you feel to �nish the book, it’s important
to remember that you also have a lot of work to do in the last quarter of your
story: ful�ll the major plot and character arcs and resolve these in some sat-
isfying way; resolve any outstanding minor arcs of subplot and supporting
character, making sure none are le� orphaned; build theme from how the
resolution of con�ict speaks to the broader human experience; and �nish
with scenes and lines that bring the story to a gratifying conclusion while
also encouraging the reader to keep thinking about the characters and their
lives even a�er the book is closed.
Let’s consider the art of closing well by �rst determining the shape and
function of a strong �nal act.
��
In conventional three-act structure, the third act generally accounts for the
�nal 25 percent of the story and includes the climax—where the protago-
nist faces the con�ict in the most serious, direct way and will either suc-
ceed or fail in the overall quest—and the dénouement, the winding down of
action in which the reader takes stock of the protagonist’s success or failure
and draws conclusions about what the completed arc (and completed story)
really means.
Put in these terms, it might seem as if the final act has relatively little
to do, but of course that isn’t the case: The way your arcs, both major
and minor, resolve plays a direct role in what the reader takes away from
the book and how she judges it. The reader has made a commitment to
� � � � � ��
�e ending must seem on one level inevitable, as if the

story couldn’t have ended any other way, yet the �nal
outcome shouldn’t seem predestined.
see the story through from the beginning, just as the beginning and see the end. �us the ending seems on one
writer has, and she expects a compelling climax and level inevitable, as if the story couldn’t have ended any other
dénouement that: way … yet the �nal outcome hasn’t seemed predestined,
• answer all the questions the book has posed as the heart of the story contains enough perilous con�ict
• reward the anticipation and suspense felt through- that the character’s success is never a foregone conclusion.
out with a �nal release �e success of the character in his quest—and the success
• reveal what the completed arc means for the spe- of the story as a whole—has to be earned along the way.
ci�c character and his world
• suggest how the completed arc has resonance ��
and meaning for us out here in the real world Every novel has its own particular needs in plotting a
Regardless of whether the story ends happily or tragi- payo�. It would be impossible to tell you, for example,
cally, the reader expects the story to end well. “Your climax should be 10 pages,” or, “Your dénouement
But while the way you handle the events at the end of should be 20.”
the book—how artfully you tie your story to a close, on a Really, the only thing that can dictate the plotting and
cra� level—obviously plays a big role in making meaning, pacing of the end is what’s come before it—what expecta-
it’s important to realize that, if you’ve set up your story the tions you’ve raised and have to meet—in the last act.
right way from the beginning and followed through by Still, there are a number of things you might take
raising the stakes in incremental, logical ways through- into account in order to �gure out how to best pull o�
out, keeping the character and his motivation clear, the the payo�.
events themselves in the �nal act create meaning.
A boy who wants ice cream, gets a cone and then ��
enjoys it on a hot day conveys a speci�c meaning and �inking about your third-act events and how you
feeling to us; a boy who goes through the same steps but anticipate the act playing out, try answering the follow-
then immediately drops the cone onto the hot street, his ing questions:
last dollar in the world melting into the gravel, creates 1. How close to the end of the book is the climax?
a completely di�erent meaning, a completely di�erent 2. When should the subplots be tied up? When your
story, just by changing the event waiting for him. �e climax comes very late in the book, you’ll need to make
end retroactively a�ects the way we think about every- sure that your subplots are brought to a close by the
thing that’s come before it. time you arrive there (unless the climax su�ciently ties
�e climax, then, has to address and jeopardize the them up). If, on the other hand, your climax requires
character’s original external and internal motivations, necessary winding down—if, for example, you’re writ-
and the dénouement has to answer how both of those ing a detective story, which necessitates a bit of post-
goals have been met and what the result means for both mortem—then you’ll need to reach the climax quickly
character and reader. enough to allow for a longer dénouement.
When it’s done right, you can look at the end and see 3. Does the climax leave more questions than answers?
re�ected back the beginning, or you can �ip back to the If you �nd yourself with too much le� to explain a�er

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the climax, especially as a result of the climax (rather Consider, for instance, the twist ending we see in O.
than just necessary dénouement), are you trying to do Henry’s classic short story “�e Gi� of the Magi” in
too much too late? Have you created a complex climac- which a young married couple without much money
tic scene when a more straightforward one might do? struggles to buy Christmas gi�s for one another.
Your ending should become more and more focused �e young wife, Della, wants to buy a gold chain for
up to your climactic moment and should then wind
her husband, Jim, for his prized pocket watch, but she is
down simply, in ways that resolve complication easily
well short of the money it would cost. So Della decides
(your reader is likely a bit exhausted a�er the climax
and can’t take on too much responsibility). to trade in the one thing she has of value—her long hair,
So if you’ve still got large knots to untie at the end, try which she cuts o� and sells to a wig-maker—in order to
to �nd ways to simplify the third act—even if it means buy the chain.
going back to your �rst and second acts to simplify When Jim comes home that evening, he stops short
them, too. and stares at his newly shorn wife with a “peculiar
expression” that Della believes is dislike for her new
��
haircut, and she immediately tells him that it will grow
As we think about constructing a strong ending, it behooves
back, not to be concerned, that she has a wonderful
us to consider e�ective and ine�ective uses of surprise.
Surprises in plot, especially “twist” endings, oper- Christmas gi� for him.
ate in a very speci�c way: �ey catch us o� guard in It’s then that O. Henry reveals the reason for the
the moment, but in retrospect they appear to have been peculiar expression: Jim has sold his pocket watch for
unavoidable, set up and even suggested by what we’ve the money to buy his wife a Christmas gi� she’d love:
already seen. combs for her beautiful long hair.
� � � � � ��
�e twist is delightful, moving, but it’s also an inevita- those rare occasions when there’s not, then maybe you
ble conclusion. �e surprise catches us o� guard for just shouldn’t be getting your characters into such a compli-
a moment, feels strangely euphoric, but in the very next cated mess, huh?
moment the surprise makes complete sense: We realize �� At the beginning of every
we’ve been headed toward that conclusion all along. novel, the author sets the rules for the story and its �c-
�ink of your own favorite example of a successful tional world, the reader agrees, and thus author and
twist ending—whether its the O. Henry example above, reader form a kind of contract. If at the end of the
or the Twilight Zone episode in which Burgess Meredith story you suddenly begin changing those rules—in the
plays the book lover who survives an apocalypse and process chiding the reader for being such a dope as to
�nally has time to read, and then immediately breaks believe you in the �rst place—the reader feels cheated,
his glasses, or the end of �e Sixth Sense. �e surprise because she has been.
works because, once we look back on it, we realize we Examples of this include such endings as It Was All
should’ve seen it coming, though we’re thankful we A Dream / Hallucination / Virtual-Reality Experiment
didn’t. �e twist is part of a logical progression. or anything else that indicates the contract the reader
Ine�ective surprise, on the other hand, is apropos of
trusted at the beginning of the story should never
absolutely nothing, comes out of nowhere, has no rea-
have been.
son to be there, and in fact o�en runs counter to what
��When a twist comes
we’d been led to believe.
from the author delaying the reveal of certain crucial
And the e�ect on the reader is momentary surprise,
information—withheld for the purposes of deceiv-
and then any number of emotions you absolutely don’t
ing the reader—the reader reaction is naturally one
want to evoke in your audience, ever, at least if they’re
of betrayal.
directed back at you: confusion, anger, disgust, betrayal,
Examples of this include stories that, in the last line,
rage, demands for a refund.
reveal that the main character is acting so odd because
Here is a brief listing of the most common trick-
ending o�enders, the ones that don’t delight the reader he’s actually a dog (or a Martian, or a ghost, or a time-
so much as insult and o�end him. Be careful not to fall traveling Nazi, or whatever) when that information
back on any of these—not because they can’t be used should’ve been made part of the rules of the story
e�ectively, but because they rarely are. up front.
��e literal translation, “god All of these run the risk of alienating a reader, so the
from the machine,” has an even more literal origin: best rule to follow is not to resort to them at all. Rather,
In Greek tragedy, when playwrights had worked their allow surprise to come naturally from the directions
characters into such a mess that there seemed no real your story takes. Don’t try to manufacture or force sur-
way to resolve the crisis, someone would lower a god prise, at the end or anywhere else.
onto the stage via a machine, like a wench, so the god
could solve the problem with his godly powers and then ��
be wenched back o� stage. �e climax of the novel answers one of the story’s two
In contemporary usage it refers to any resolution major questions: Will the protagonist succeed or fail
that involves introducing some external solution to the in meeting his external goal? (�e second big ques-
problem from out of nowhere, such as saying, “And then tion, addressed in the dénouement, is what the success
he saw the lifeboat!” or “And then he saw the machine or failure means for the character as a person, which
gun!” or “And then he saw the UFO!” where no lifeboat, a�ects how we relate to the character at the end.)
machine gun, or UFO existed in the story before. In order for the climax to feel truly like a payo�, it
�ere’s always a way to solve a story dilemma using must answer the external question one way or the other—
what’s already been introduced into the story. And in either with success or failure—and it has to seem like a

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natural, believable conclusion, even if the end holds a ing stock of everything that’s transpired along the way
surprise or two for the reader. (and how your main character has been changed by
Keep in mind, though, that while success or failure the experience).
are indeed your only two options in concluding the
protagonist’s external arc, the e�ect of either one can
��
produce complex meaning for protagonist and reader �e climax is the greatest point of tension and con�ict
alike. A failure in the external quest doesn’t necessar- in the novel, and how that con�ict plays out, how the
ily mean failure for the character’s internal quest, and tension resolves, is part of the payo� the reader has
vice versa. �us a failure of the external quest might been waiting for since the beginning, allowing her to
still lead to a triumphant ending in terms of the inter- see the story as a full arc and to draw conclusions about
nal, and a success in the external might be bittersweet the character’s journey.
if the internal goal is nevertheless unmet. (Don’t To that end, you’ll want to consider not just how
believe me? Go watch the end of Casablanca and then your own climax will resolve—with the character either
give me a call.) succeeding or failing in the external quest—but what
When writing your climactic scenes, then, go back the implications are in terms of the larger story, lead-
to your �rst act—to the point where the internal and ing to the dénouement and resonant closing scenes of
external goals became parallel and launched the hero, the book.
and the reader, on the journey—and consider how Take a look the worksheet on page 116 and consider
your climax, whether win or lose for the main charac- how your own climax ful�lls the external arc, bringing
ter, answers the questions posed at the book’s begin- that part of the journey to a satisfying close, while also
ning. And you should also consider how either a win leading your reader toward the dénouement, where the
or loss in the climax a�ects what you’re able to do in e�ect of the win or loss on the protagonist’s personal or
the book’s dénouement, where the reader can begin tak- internal quest will be revealed.
� � � � � ��
�� why did the reader just spend all that time, energy and
If the climax answers the primary question of the book, attention reading them?)
which is to say, whether the character succeeds or fails So here’s the big question to put to your own work:
in reaching the overall external goal, the dénouement Has the protagonist met both his external and inter-
puts the victory or failure into perspective, showing nal goals by the end of the novel? �e correct answer is
its e�ect on the protagonist and his relationship to the either a yes or a no; there’s no maybe. And that yes or no,
world. �is gives the reader a way of knowing what to that success or failure, should �nally give the reader a
take away from the story. full understanding of both the character and story. �e
�e closing moments are necessarily quieter than the reader should feel the personal victory or loss as if it
climactic scene, but they should be no less emotion- were her own.
ally resonant; in fact, the dénouement is a moment that
looks back to, and reminds the reader of, the begin- ��
ning of your novel and what questions were raised �e term dénouement comes from the French (and
there, particularly in terms of the protagonist’s internal earlier Latin) for “untying,” as you would a knot—for
motivation. instance, all those knots of plot, character and con�ict
What your character wants personally has been driv- you’ve spent your novel making.
ing the narrative since the �rst page, even before the Interestingly, though, when I teach dénouement I
external motivation and con�ict came along to paral- �nd I’m actually using the term in an opposite way
lel the personal struggle. With the external question from its literal meaning: dénouement is about tying
resolved in the climax, what remains is answering the up those necessary loose threads and making sure they
internal question and addressing the e�ect the story are woven back into the novel in some meaningful way
has had on the character as a person, thus bringing the by the end. �e dénouement is about completion.
character arc, and the book, full circle. �e needs of your particular genre will a�ect what
you cover in the dénouement and how you cover it.
��
A detective story or procedural, for example, might
One of the most basic de�nitions of a story—in fact a
require a bit of post-mortem (perhaps literally) a�er
common test to determine if what you have is truly a
the climax, revealing those last pieces of information
story rather than, say, an anecdote or a yarn or some other
that make sense only now that the mystery has been
related form—is that it’s a complete action that leaves the
solved, whereas a fantasy might require very little a�er
protagonist in some way changed by the experience.
the climax for us to understand the overall meaning:
Now, this doesn’t mean that your protagonist needs
to succeed, necessarily, nor does it mean that he needs good defeated evil, and that’s all you need to know.
to be better, smarter or more excellent than he was at In a love story, what we need is some understand-
the beginning; in fact, failure—particularly our own ing of what the climactic moment ultimately means
personal failings—o�en change our lives with more for the lovers, whether they’ll live happily ever a�er
ferocity than our successes. or not.
But however the events unfold, and no matter where But it’s important for you to remember that the
they leave our protagonist, the e�ect must be signi�- dénouement isn’t about o�ering information only;
cant for the character. �e way to gauge the signi�cance the artistry with which you answer these remaining
is by looking at the protagonist at both the beginning questions, and the mood your strike with your closing
and end and seeing a di�erence. If the character seems lines, goes a long way to informing the reader how to
unchanged by the end of the story, it must be because interpret the end.
the events he went through weren’t really that impor- Here’s a quick, beautiful example from Charles
tant. (And if the events weren’t really that important, Dickens’s Great Expectations.

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� � � � � ��
�e plot of the book concerns Pip, a boy of humble �e way Dickens addresses these in the dénouement,
means who receives money—and thus an opportunity and o�ers hope that Pip has �nally found what he’s
to better himself socially and become a “gentleman”— looking for, is the perfect, satisfying conclusion we’ve
from a mysterious benefactor. been waiting for, and it’s achieved through a rather sim-
�e major (external) question of the book, then, is ple and even understated image: Pip and Estella holding
about Pip’s making his way in the larger world, which hands, not letting go.
takes too many Dickensian twists and turns along the
way to name. ��
But the major subplot—and the emotional heart of You’re within shouting distance of having finished
the book—has to do with Pip’s longing for the young the novel, and the most important thing you can do
Estella, the ward of the eccentric Miss Havisham. to see the book through is to remind yourself of how
Pip and Estella’s relationship over the many years
you got here, looking back at the beginning, remem-
(30-plus) covered in the novel is turbulent, with Estella
bering what it is that you’re really moving toward,
toying with Pip at the urging of Miss Havisham and
what needs to be fulfilled (and, importantly, what
breaking his heart repeatedly, eventually by marrying
you should do in the final act to make the book as a
another—though the reader never truly gives up hope
that Pip might �nd happiness with her (since this is whole fulfilling).
something Pip desperately wants, and we want what You shouldn’t get so concerned about any dangling
Pip wants). or orphaned plot points, about polishing, that you
At the end of the novel, Pip—having by this time �nd yourself trying to play it too safe. By all means, if
earned, lost and begun rebuilding his fortune—returns you’ve made it this far you deserve to let go a bit and
to his boyhood home and to the crumbling ruins of Miss have fun.
Havisham’s home, where he �nds, of all people, Estella, (Besides, there will be plenty of opportunity in the
whose marriage is done and who seems genuinely sorry next phase, revision, to make your �nal dra� look as if it
for having treated Pip so poorly. came out perfect the �rst time.)
�e last lines of the novel are a classic example of But try to think of the momentum and urgency of
how dénouement artfully ties up the action of the story the �nal act as coming from the �rst two acts and what
while o�ering a bit of understanding—and hope—for you set up there. In the end is the beginning, and you’ll
what comes next: know you’ve really �nished the novel when that initial
I took her hand in mine, and we went out of the ruined question, raised by that very �rst spark, has found a res-
place; and, as the morning mists had risen long ago onant, satisfying conclusion.
when I �rst le� the forge, so, the evening mists were ris- For some help in cra�ing a compelling close, see the
ing now, and in all the broad expanse of tranquil light worksheet on page 117. But keep in mind that ending
they showed to me, I saw no shadow of another part- well means more than just o�ering the right informa-
ing from her. tion; it’s about �nding that inspired way of conveying
Pip has achieved the major external goal of the book— meaning and emotion to the reader so that she wants to
he has become a man of means, and self-su�cient in inhabit the world you’ve created even a�er the reading
the process—though the reader turns toward the last is done.
chapter still wondering about that major unresolved
subplot, and meaningful goal, of �nding a measure of ��
love and happiness. ��

� ��
T H E U LT I M AT E
C H E C K L I S T
R E V I SION
�rst dra�
Here’s how to take your
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to polished manuscript
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C
elebrate. You have a completed manuscript. • Are you being “fair” with the opposition?
Most people who think they ought to write • Is he as strong or (preferably) stronger than the
a novel someday never get to this point. You protagonist, in terms of ability to win the �ght?
learn things by �nishing a dra� you can’t
learn any other way. Common Character Fixes
When it comes to revision, I’ve found that most writ- �� Lead characters must “jump o� the
ers need a more systematic approach. Too many writers page.” �e key to compelling �ction has always been
just sit down and read a manuscript page by page, mak- characters that live, breathe, and have the capacity to
ing changes as they come up. Big or small, each item is surprise us.
dealt with the moment it’s seen. If your main characters seem �at, try the “opposite
Much better is to go from large to small. To start with exercise.” Imagine they’re the opposite sex. Close your
the most crucial aspects and work your way down to the eyes and replay some scenes in your mind. What’s di�er-
�nal step, which is �e Polish. ent about their behavior? What sorts of feelings do they
Feel free to vary the order if you prefer, and add your show? What nuances suddenly emerge? You’re not going
own checklist areas. And feel free to use this as is for the to change their sex in actuality (though you might!).
rest of your writing life. It will serve you either way. You’re trying to �nd di�erent shades and colors.
�� Track the inner change
�� in your character through the three acts. List the plot ele-
�� ments that are working on the character to instigate the
• Is my protagonist worth following for a whole change. Make the change understandable and logical.
novel? Why? • Go through your manuscript and, with a high-
• How can I make my protagonist “jump o� the lighter, mark all the passages of inner life you’ve
page” more? given us. �ese can be everything from one-line
• Do my characters su�ciently contrast? Are they realizations to full-on re�ections.
interesting enough on their own? • Now, read through the highlighted sections only,
• Will readers bond to my protagonist because he: in order. Is the �ow of the interior life you’re
– cares for someone other than himself? showing understandable and believable? Are
– is funny, irreverent, or a rebel with a cause? there places that seem inconsistent? Are there
– is competent at something? gaps to �ll with other interior insights?
– is an underdog who doesn’t give up?
– has a dream or desire readers can relate to? ��
– has undeserved misfortune? • Is there any point where a reader might feel like
– is in jeopardy or danger? putting the book down?
• Does the novel feel like it’s about people
�� doing things?
�� • Does the plot feel forced or unnatural?
• Is he just as fully realized as the protagonist? • Is the story out of balance? Too much action?
• Is his behavior justi�ed (in his own mind)? Too much reaction?
� ��
�� Too few characters can result

Common Plot Fixes
in a thin plot. Too many can render it overweight. But
�� All through the revision pro-
just the right character added at just the right time
cess your mind will be working on your plot. When
presents a whole universe of plot possibilities. If your
you sleep, eat, shower, drive. �e boys in the basement
plot is plodding, consider adding a new, dynamic
never stop.
character to the proceedings. Give this character a
So be able to nab any ideas that occur to you at odd
moments. Have pens and paper handy in your home, car, stake in the plot. Give him plenty of reasons to be for
o�ce, backpack. Don’t hesitate to jot down what occurs or against the other characters. Search out possible
to you, without judgment. Later, you can si� through backstory relationships between the new character
your notes and decide what to incorporate. and the existing cast.
�� Create two trajecto- �� Do you have
ries for your main character: a personal problem and characters doing things that aren’t justi�ed in the
a plot problem. story? A character can’t just show up. You need to give
• He’s in his personal problem as the story begins, your characters a reason why they act the way they do.
or it develops soon therea�er. Look to:
• �e plot problem arises when the main con�ict • desires
is engaged. • yearnings
�e two don’t necessarily intersect as the story moves • duties
along, though they can. But the personal complicates • psychological wounds
how he deals with the plot. • passions
�� Ask yourself what the main �� Usually the main setting of
character will lose if he doesn’t achieve his objective. your plot is going to remain as is, because you have
Unless it’s something that threatens tremendous loss, so much invested in it. You’ve done research, set up
either physically or emotionally, readers won’t care locations for scenes, and so on. But if it’s possible to
what happens. change, give it some consideration. Will it add levels to
�� In Robert your plot? More exciting possibilities? Even if you can’t
Crais’s thriller Hostage, burned-out hostage negoti-
change the main location, many of your scenes can be
ator Je� Talley is suddenly faced with a tense stand-
enlivened this way.
o� in an otherwise placid bedroom community. Fine
Look especially to these locations:
and dandy on its own, but Crais then adds another
• restaurants
level: �e hostage inside the house has in his posses-
• kitchens
sion incriminating �nancial evidence against the mob,
• living rooms
because he’s the mob’s accountant! �e mob needs to
• o�ces
get that evidence before the cops. To put pressure on
Talley, the mob kidnaps his ex-wife and daughter and • cars
holds them hostage. �is added level of complication These are the places most of us are in most of the
supercharges the entire book. time. For that reason they’re overly familiar. Look at
Don’t hold back on making trouble. Have you been each instance of a location like the above and see if
resistant to making things as bad as possible for your you can’t find a fresher venue. For example, instead
Lead? Did you pull your punches when creating obsta- of a restaurant scene, what if the characters were
cles, challenges, points of con�ict? Were you too nice to outside eating hot dogs on a pier? Or at a carnival
your characters? where there’s too much noise? You don’t have to
Go through your manuscript and for each scene move every scene, of course, but this is one way to
de�ne what the point of con�ict is. sharpen a plot.

Readers want to know who the main character is and why
they should care. If you bring on too many characters, that
bond will be diluted.
�� • Are there two characters with opposing objectives?

• Do I open with some part of the story engine • Can you rework it so this con�ict is clearer?
running? Or am I spending too much time • Can you ratchet up the con�ict by making these
warming up? objectives more important to each character?
• How do my opening pages conform to • Can you show us, through inner thoughts, just
Hitchcock’s axiom (“A good story is life with the how important it is to the viewpoint character?
dull parts taken out”)? • Can you make the con�ict hotter, more intense?
• What is the story world I’m trying to present? Don’t worry about going too far. You can always pull
What mood descriptions bring that story world it back a little in your �nal polish.
to life for the reader? �� Readers want to know
• What is the tone of my novel going to be? Are who the main character is and why they should care.
the descriptions consistent with that mood? If you bring on too many characters, that bond will be
• What happens in Act I that’s going to compel the diluted. You can:
reader to keep reading? What danger to the lead? • Eliminate characters.
• Who is the opposition to the lead? Is he as strong, • Delay some character introductions until later.
or preferably stronger, than the lead? How do I • Make sure you are strongly in your protagonist’s
show this? point of view throughout.
• Is there enough con�ict to run through the • Combine characters to reduce the size of the cast.
whole book?
��
Common Opening Fixes • Do I deepen character relationships?
�� Give us a character in • Why should the reader care what’s happening?
motion. Something happening to a person from line • Have I justi�ed the �nal battle or �nal choice
one. Make that a disturbing thing, or have it presage that will wrap things up at the end?
something disturbing. Remember, a disturbance is any • Is there a sense of death (physical, professional,
sort of change or challenge. It doesn’t have to be “big” or psychological) that overhangs?
to hold interest. If you want to open more leisurely, at • Is there a strong adhesive keeping the characters
least give us these elements within the �rst paragraph together (such as moral or professional duty;
or half-page. physical location; other reasons characters can’t
�� While some just walk away)?
backstory is good in the opening, it should come • Do my scenes contain con�ict or tension?
only after action is established, and then dropped in
sparingly. Exposition (information) can also usually Common Middle Fixes
be put off until later. Remember the rule: act first, �� Alfred Hitchcock
explain later. always said the strength of his suspense lay in the
� ��
strength of the villain. It makes sense. If your readers b] �e lead and another character hate each other
aren’t worried about your lead because the opponent or at �rst but are forced into companionship. �ink
opposing circumstances are so�, the middle will seem a the classic movie It Happened One Night.
long slog indeed. c] �e lead is married or committed to another, but
Look to the three aspects of death to give your oppo- the love interest comes along to generate sexual
sition strength. or romantic tension.
• Does the opposition have the power to kill your d] �e love triangle.
protagonist, like a ma�a don, for instance? Plot Complication: Another plotline comes along to
mess up the protagonist’s pursuit of the objective.
• Does the opposition have the power to crush
Personal: Some crisis from the lead’s personal life
your protagonist’s professional pursuits, like a
is making his plot life more di�cult. �e detective on
crooked judge in a criminal trial?
the hunt for a serial killer has a wife threatening to
• Does the opposition have the power to crush
leave him.
your protagonist’s spirit?
So what’s the best way to come up with a subplot?
Once you decide on the type of power your opposi- �ere are two primary ways:
tion character can wield, you can go back and explain 1. Character. Take a character other than the pro-
it. You can come up with any background material you tagonist and bring her into more prominence.
choose to show us exactly how the opposition got to be Is there something this character can do to
the way she is. complicate the life or goal of the Lead? Play
One caveat: Don’t make your opposition so strong with several possibilities.
that she becomes a caricature. Color your opposition. Create a new character to plug in. I did this in
Make her complex. No one, with the possible excep- a recent book. I felt some sag and thought up a
tion of Dr. Evil, wakes up each day thinking of new evil colorful minor character. �en I did some brain-
things to do. Characters feel justi�ed in what they do. storming where the character might �t. Eventu-
Show us the shades of gray in the opposition. ally, I came up with a plotline for him.
�� One sure way to prop up a sagging 2. Plot. Look for a plot need or plot hole and cre-
middle is to add a subplot. A good subplot can add the- ate a plot line to cover it. In one of books where
matic depth, provide additional outer and inner con�ict, I needed a transition, some important infor-
and power the book with another level of interest. mation coming to the lead, I came up with a
A few of the types of subplot are: character to provide the information. �en
I built a plotline around that, expanding this
�ematic: �is is a subplot that can have many per-
character’s reach.
mutations, but the main reason for its existence is to
�� Brainstorm a list of new events
deepen the theme of the novel. O�en, this is a personal
you can add that will bring more trouble to the protag-
story line that demands the lead grow or learn some
onist. Go wild. Don’t throw anything out. You usually
important lesson.
don’t get gold until you’re down past four or �ve possi-
Romantic: �e lead has to deal with romance, which bilities. Keep going.
should threaten to complicate his life. Some of the types Some possibilities to get you started:
of romantic subplots are: • An unexpected enemy shows up.
a] �e lead falls in love with a character he can’t • A friend turns out to be an enemy.
connect with, due to class, family, or other con- • A minor character turns out to hold more deadly
siderations. �e lovers want to be together but power than previously thought.
are prevented by circumstance. �ink Romeo • Someone dies unexpectedly.
and Juliet. • Someone thought dead shows up alive.

• �e protagonist gets �red. from the main plotline, or go back and snip them
• �e protagonist gets in an accident. out. Readers have long memories.
• �e protagonist gets lost. • Do I give a feeling of resonance? �e best end-
• A crucial message is lost. ings leave a sense of something beyond the con-
�� How can you raise the stakes �nes of the book covers.
for the protagonist? Put him on the horns of a dilemma. • Will the readers feel the way I want them to feel?
A dilemma presents two choices, both of which are bad.
Make a two-sided table, onscreen or on a piece of paper. Common End Fixes
�en brainstorm, on one side, all of the reasons the �� Go back through the man-
character cannot walk away from the con�ict. �ink up uscript and read only those portions relating to the par-
as many psychological, personal, familial, and any other ticular thread.
type of reason the character can’t just quit. You know where they are. Read only these parts, skip-
�� Sometimes sag is caused by being overweight. ping the rest. Make notes on your observations. Make a
�ere’s simply too much �ab. You can do some trim- list of all possible solutions, no matter how o� the wall.
ming here and there, and then strengthen the good stu� Brood about it for a day or two. Add any ideas that occur
that remains. Try the following: to you a�er sleeping on it. Choose the solution that suits
Combine or cut characters: A character is in your you best. Another idea is to utilize a minor character to
plot for no apparent purpose, shove him o� the stage. explain or embody a solution. It used to be a staple of
Maybe this is a character who you thought was colorful mystery �ction that the detective would gather everyone
enough to be carried along on charm alone. Not. Each in a room at the end and explain what happened. We’re
character must serve a purpose. more subtle now, but it can still be done in small chunks.
If it’s a major character, ask what her stakes are in the In general, try to tie up your loose ends in the reverse
story. How does she relate to the lead character and the order of their introduction.
main area of con�ict? If she wasn’t in the story, and the �e following chart may help:
plot would pretty much be the same, she doesn’t need ��
to be there. ��
Supporting characters should also be there as allies or ��
��
irritants. If they aren’t helping or hindering the protago-
�e solutions come this way:
nist, they have no purpose.
Walk-on characters—those very minor characters— ��
should appear only to make some thing happen that has �
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to happen. Like a cabdriver when a cab is taken, or the �
��
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waiter when your lead is in a restaurant. ��
Absorb a subplot. Did you begin a subplot strand Note that the introductory problem is not the big
that ran out of steam? Or takes o� on a tangent that’s issue of the book. It’s usually an opening disturbance
too wild? Take what’s good and let the main plot absorb of some kind. So at the end, to keep from anti-climax,
it. Take what’s good in the subplot—maybe a charac- make sure you wrap it up in one scene.
ter or incident—and instead of giving it more attention, ��Come up with several alternative
give it less. endings. If one of them seems better than what you’ve
got, consider plugging it in.
�� But don’t get rid of your old one. Consider using it as
• Are there loose threads le� dangling? You must a twist ending. You’ll have to tweak the details, but you
either resolve these in a way that doesn’t distract might be able to use it.
� ��
Or use one of the other alternative endings you came up If the core is weak or unclear, strengthen it. �ink of
with. �e �nal twist should be short, to avoid anti-climax. it as the “hot spot” and �nd ways to turn up the heat.
�� If you need to speed up a scene,
�� dialogue is one way to do it. Short exchanges with few
• Is there con�ict or tension in every scene? beats leave a lot of white space on the page and give a
• Do I establish a viewpoint character? feeling of movement.
• If the scene is action, is the objective clear? To slow the pace of a scene, you can add action beats,
• If the scene is reaction, is the emotion clear? thoughts, and description as well as elongating speeches.
�� Don’t waste any good ten-
Common Scene Fixes sion beats. Stretch them. Make your prose the equiva-
�� Not rewrite. Relive. Have you lent of slow motion in a movie.
ever imagined yourself to be the characters? Tried to Show every beat, using all the tools at your disposal:
feel what they’re feeling? �en try it now. It’s not hard. thoughts, actions, dialogue, description. Mix these up.
Be an actor. O�en, a�er I’ve written a scene, I’ll go back In a famous early scene in Whispers, Dean Koontz
and try to live the emotions. I’ll act out the parts I’ve takes 17 pages to describe the attempted rape of the
created. Almost always what I feel “in character” will protagonist. It all takes place in a house. Read it and
make me add to or change the scene. learn.
You can also vividly imagine the scene, step-by-step, �� Each scene needs to
in your mind. Let it play like a movie. But instead of have a clear point-of-view character. �e rule is one
watching the movie from a seat in the theater, be in the POV per scene. No “head hopping.” �e exception is
scene. �e other characters can’t see you, but you can
when you’re using omniscient POV, which has its own
see and hear them.
challenges. Otherwise, stick with one.
�� Let things happen.
Go over your scenes and see if, within the �rst couple
Let the characters improvise. If you don’t like what they
of paragraphs, you have made the viewpoint clear. You
come up with, rewind the scene and allow them do
can quickly remedy the situation. Instead of starting a
something else.
scene this way:
Look at the beginnings of your scenes. What do you
do to grab the reader at the start? Have you spent too �e room was stu�y and packed with people.
much time with description of setting? O�en the better
Do it like this:
course is to start in medias res (in the middle of things)
and drop in description a little later. Steve walked into the stu�y room and tried to get past
�� What have you provided the mass of people.
that will make the reader want to read on? Some great
�roughout the scene, you may need to remind us
places to stop a scene are:
whose head we’re in. You can do this with little clues,
• at the moment a major decision is to be made
• just as a terrible thing happens like “Steve knew that he had to ...” or “Steve felt the
• with a portent of something bad about to happen sweat under his arms ...”
• with a strong display of emotion
• raising a question that has no immediate answer ��
Keep improving your scenes and your novel will soon • Do I have large chunks of information dumped in
develop that can’t-put-it-down feel. one spot?
�� Ask yourself what the core of • Is my exposition doing double duty? Cut out any
your scene is. What’s the purpose? Why does it exist? exposition that doesn’t also add to the mood or
How does it meet one of the four purposes of a scene? tone of your novel.

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Common Fixes Common Fixes

��e best exposition doesn’t stick out. �� Put yourself in the head of the POV char-
It doesn’t give the feeling that the story has suddenly acter, and visualize the scene through her eyes. Run
stopped so the reader can be fed information. A “chunk” through the paragraphs one by one, “seeing” the scene
of exposition is any information of two sentences or through the POV character’s eyes.
more. �e worst way to present this information is as Look for any beats that can’t be perceived by the char-
straight narrative in the author’s voice. acter. �ey’re slippery, but the more you practice, the
So, take every chunk of exposition and do one of better you’ll become at nabbing them.
the following: �� Especially in �rst-person POV, but
First take out any exposition material that the reader even in the others, can you increase the attitude quo-
does not absolutely need to know. If it is just �ller, get tient? Get the words more in the voice of the character
rid of it. by exploring his emotional reaction to the plot.
�is is a matter of experience. If, for example, you’re
writing about the history of a place, you’ll want to cre- ��
ate a feel of the place, and that requires exposition. �e ��
temptation, especially if you love research, is to put in • Have I brought my setting to life for the reader?
everything you know. • Does the setting operate as a “character”?
Cut what you don’t need for �avor or the under- • Are my descriptions of places and people
standing of the story. Now, put the chunks you have too generic?
le� in dialogue or character thoughts. Even better, put • Are my descriptions doing double duty by add-
the chunks in confrontational dialogue or make them ing to the mood or tone?
highly tense thoughts.
�� Be especially vigilant about Common Fixes
exposition at the beginning of chapters. Act �rst, explain �� Go through your setting descrip-
later. Take out all information that isn’t absolutely nec- tions and look for places where you can put in one, good
essary for the reader to know, especially at the begin- “telling” detail. One vivid detail is worth 10 average ones.
ning of chapters. See if you can put exposition in later, Smell, taste and touch are underused in �ction, so why
not all at once, but sprinkled in a�er action has begun. not use them?
Make a list of words you associate with your novel, the
�� things you’re trying to get the readers to feel. For example:
�� • outrage
• Are there sections where the style seems forced • sadness
or stilted? Try reading it out loud, or having the • hope
speech mode on your computer do it. Hearing it • healing
sounded out will o�en help identify places to be • victory
cut or modi�ed. Under each word you come up with, brainstorm sev-
• Is my POV consistent in every scene? eral possible sensory observations that would go with
• If writing in �rst person, can the character see the word.
and feel what it is I describe? For outrage you might think of: red, �re, noise,
• If writing in third person, do I slip into the crashing, screams, bitterness. Next, go to speci�c
thoughts of characters other than the POV char- scenes where the feeling of outrage is being established,
acter in the scene? Do I describe something the and try plugging in one of these sensory elements to
character can’t see or feel? your descriptions.

If much of the dialogue from di�erent characters sounds the
same, orchestrate it by making the individual lines more
unique. Make sure you can hear each character’s voice.
�ink of these additions as “spice.” �ey work best ��

when applied sparingly but for a purpose. �is is how you become a real writer. Cutting, shaping,
adding, subtracting, working it, making it better, that’s
�� what real writing is all about.
• Slightly “o� ” responses are more suspenseful Do this, and you increase your chances of getting
than on-the-nose responses. Can I put in non published. Or, if you publish it yourself, of having it
sequiturs, or answer a question with a question, read and liked. Now, before you send it o�, give it one
and so on? more going over. �is won’t take long in comparison.
• Can I change some attributions—he said, she But it will add that extra sparkle that could make all the
said—to action beats? di�erence. �is is �e Polish.
• Good dialogue surprises the reader, creates ten-
sion. View it like a game, where the players are
��
trying to outfox each other. Are they using dia- Go through your manuscript reading all the chapter
logue as a “weapon”? openings. Consider the following:
• Dialogue should have con�ict or tension, even • Can you begin a little further in?
between allies. Does it? • Does the opening grab? Have a hint of con�ict
or action?
Common Fixes • If you open with description, does it do double
duty? If not, put it in later.
��Read your dialogue aloud. Or have
• Do most of your chapters begin the same way?
your computer’s voice read it back to you. Keep a red
Vary them.
pen or �ying �ngers ready to change words.
��See how much dialogue you can actually ��
do without. Look at every chapter ending. See if you can �nd a place
• Try arbitrarily cutting a line of dialogue and re- to end the chapter earlier. One, two, three, or more para-
placing it with an action beat. graphs earlier. How does it feel? It may be better, it may
• Try compressing dialogue that goes over two not. If it is, use it.
lines by cutting words. If it isn’t, ask if it would bene�t by adding something
�� If much of the dialogue from di�er- that would make the chapter end with more of a portent
ent characters sounds the same, orchestrate it by mak- or prompt, like:
ing the individual lines more unique. For example: • a line of moody description
• Give the characters their own pet words or • an introspection of fear or worry
phrases they can repeat from time to time. • a moment of decision or intention
• Look at cadence. Some people use more words • a line of dialogue that snaps or sings
than others. Or your ending may be just �ne the way it is. If that’s
• Make sure you can “hear” each character’s voice. so, don’t touch it!
� ��
Identify �ve big moments in your manuscript. Read them

over one at a time. Make a list of 10 ways you can heighten
that moment, make it more intense, give it more juice.
�� en sit back and decide which one feels best. Try
• Is there white space in your dialogue exchanges? rewriting that moment in just that way.
• Is your default attribution said? Repeat this for the other �ve big moments.
• Do you vary these with action beats?
• Do you have too many action beats? Remember, ��
said doesn’t make the reader work. • “So much of successful �ction hinges on one
• Can you cut to make the dialogue tighter? simple ploy: discomfort.” (Robert Newton Peck)
�� • Learn always about the cra�, but when you write,
write like Fast Eddie Felson played pool in �e
Collect the words and phrases you tend to overuse. You’ll
Hustler, fast and loose. When you revise, revise
�nd these in the revision process and when a good edi-
tor or reader alerts you to them. �ese tend to change slow and cool.
with di�erent projects. You’ll �nd yourself repeating a • Con�ict rules. If you can �nd any way to increase
di�erent word each time, because it gets plugged into con�ict in a scene, do it. Look at the characters
your head. I’m talking about words that stand out. Verbs in the scene. Even if they’re on the same side, can
like “scu�e” and “scamper.” Bold adjectives. Actions they have unspoken tension between them?
like cleared his throat. • Look at character relationships. Can you increase
Do a word search of your manuscript for instances of the web of relations? Lives that intersected in the
those repeated words and phrases you tend to overuse. past somehow?
�en modify them accordingly. • Give each major character a secret, even if it nev-
In addition, look for: er comes out. It will give emotional color.
• Very. �is is almost always a useless adjective. • Don’t let your protagonist be all good, or your
Cut it. opposition all bad.
• Suddenly. Again, mostly not needed. • Emotion! �at’s what your readers want! Even
• Adverbs. Cut them unless absolutely necessary
more than technique or plot. You must be
(some writers insist they never are).
moved in order to move your readers. Write
�� with emotion!
Identify �ve big moments in your manuscript. Read • Always write lists of possibilities.
them over one at a time. A�er each moment, make a list • Don’t ever let a coincidence help a main charac-
of 10 ways you can heighten that moment, make it more ter get out of trouble.
intense, give it more juice. Your �rst two or three ideas
will come quickly. Force yourself to go beyond that. ��
Come up with 10, even though you may think some of ��
them absurd. Just do it. ��

��
PREPARING A
NOVEL QUERY AND
SUBMISSION PACKAGE
A�er you have a polished and �nal dra�,
these steps will help you submit your work
to publishers or agents.
A
�er you’ve completed a solid, polished novel, you’ll need to cre-
ate an equally polished �ction proposal to present to an agent
or editor. �e following guidelines are industry standard—most
editors and agents approve of them, and I’ve received numerous
comments on the professional quality of my submissions when I’ve used
them. �at said, if a publisher or agent has a uniquely speci�ed list of for-
matting guidelines, then always follow it to the letter.
A standard proposal consists of:
• Query letter
• Synopsis (if requested in guidelines)
• �e �rst three chapters or �rst 50 pages (commonly called a partial)
of the manuscript (if requested in guidelines)
��
Most publishers and agents accept unsolicited query letters that include a
very brief summary of the story within the body of the letter. If they’ll accept
an unsolicited manuscript submission, or if you’ve already made contact at a
conference or in response to a previous query, you’ll also include a partial.
• Use white paper. I recommend 24-pound paper, since it’s not see-
through. For an editor who spends all day looking at manuscripts,
submissions prepared on 24-pound paper are much easier to read.
• Font or typeface, size 12. Times New Roman is the most commonly
requested font, even over the once-popular Courier. Use the same
font consistently. Authors frequently make the mistake of not print-
ing their query letter, synopsis and partial in the same font. If your
query letter is in Times New Roman, then make sure both the synop-
sis and partial are also in Times New Roman.
� ��
• One-inch margins all around, no page number • �e greeting is followed by another blank line. If
on the �rst page. Make sure your query letter, you’ve met this editor before, or if he requested
synopsis and partial match in all of these regards. the material you’re sending, refresh his memory
Ensure consistency throughout each part of your in a succinct sentence or two in the �rst line of
proposal package. your query. Something like: “I enjoyed discuss-
• Black ink only. Editors aren’t impressed by fancy ing �e Story of My Heart with you at the Pikes
submissions. �ey’re impressed by professional- Peak Writer’s Conference in April. Per your re-
ism. While a di�erent color ink could be used in quest, a proposal of this novel is enclosed.”
the heading of professional, personalized letter-
head, it’s not recommended for any other part of ��
your submission. �e next portion of your query letter is crucial. Many
• Block style setup for the query and synopsis. In people lead their queries with something like “Please
other words, single-spaced, no indents, and each considering reviewing my book for publication.” Any
paragraph is followed by a blank line. Your par- editor would assume that getting him to review your
tial, of course, will be in standard manuscript material is the point of your submission, so stating the
format of double-spaced, indented paragraphs. fact is redundant, and the editor will already be bored.
Let’s discuss the format of your query letter, starting A much better way to begin a query letter is with a
from the top of the page. high-concept blurb that’s about 100–200 words. You
• Contact information. �is consists of your name, want to hook the editor into your story immediately.
address, e-mail address, phone and website. �e basic structure of a high-concept blurb is: A char-
Double space a�er your contact information. acter (who) wants a goal (what) because he’s motivated
• Le�-align your query. Except for your contact in- (why), but he faces con�ict (why not). Fill in the blanks
formation, don’t center- or right-align any parts of for your story: If you �nd it more appropriate, you can
the query, not even the date and your signature. also use your beginning story spark to begin your letter.
• Use the name of the editor or agent you’re que- In one to two paragraphs (no more than that, even if
rying. Never submit blindly—your submission you’re including a synopsis), sum up the most compelling
may go unread. Check and double-check that elements of your story, including what makes your char-
you’ve spelled the name correctly. Follow the acters so interesting and what their con�icts, goals, and
name with the name of their imprint, agency or motivations are. �e paragraph that follows will include
company, and then the address. the most basic information about your story, including:
• Skip a line and insert the date. Skip another line • Title
following this to include your greeting. “Dear • Length (approximate length in number of words
Ms./Mr. [Last Name]:” is always safe. is preferred; i.e., 65,000 words, not 64,231 words)
• Never use a �rst name unless (1) you know • Genre (be speci�c, even if your story straddles
the editor very well—as in, you’ve met him at more than one category)
a conference and/or have had lengthy discus-
sions with him in the past; or (2) the editor has ��
a unisex name and you don’t know whether to Following your hook, include a brief bio. An unpub-
call him (or her) Mr. or Ms. In the case of a lished author would include anything that makes him
name such as Terry Meadows, you would put intriguing to an editor, such as:
“Dear Terry Meadows:” instead of “Dear Ms./ • Any publishing credits (article or short story
Mr. Meadows:” Better yet, �gure out if the per- credits count, even if you’re not published in
son is male or female! book-length �ction)

�e basic structure of a high-concept blurb is: A character
(who) wants a goal (what) because he’s motivated (why),
but faces con�ict (why not).
• Organizations of which you’re a member (and Each page of the rest of your partial should have a
that are relevant to the submission and to writ- header including the title of your book, le�-aligned.
ing in general) Your name and the page number should be aligned on
• Any information that makes you an expert on the right in the header on every page of the partial.
the subject the book deals with, or any special On the �rst page of your partial following the cover
research done in the area the book deals with page, space down eight lines and center your title
• Your day job, but only if it’s intriguing or in some (again, all capitals, bold, and a larger font are �ne).
way parallels the submission. (Include only in- A�er another space or two, include your name. Double
formation that is pertinent to your submission, space and begin to the le�. It’s acceptable to put the �rst
or that in some way puts you or your body of two or three words in all capitals. Your next paragraph
work in a promising, impressive light.) should be indented �ve spaces.
When you begin a new chapter a�er this point, make
In the �nal paragraph of your query letter, tell the edi- a hard page break, then start just as you did before, with
tor what you’re enclosing in this package, if anything, the chapter number bolded and centered eight spaces
and con�rm that the manuscript is complete, polished, down from the top of the page.
and ready for review. (Never query for a project in prog- Scene breaks can be indicated by a blank line, with
ress.) Most writers end the query with words similar to: the �rst one or two words following the blank line le�-
“I’d be happy to send you the entire manuscript at your aligned. You can also use symbols to indicate a new
request. I look forward to hearing from you.” �ese facts scene is beginning—three asterisks with a blank line
are obvious, but their expression is brief, and they do an above and below them are the most common device for
acceptable job of closing your letter. this. In order to be consistent with what you’ve done
Finish o� your query letter with something simple, previously, if you’ve used all capitals for the �rst few
not gushy, such as “Sincerely,” or “Respectfully,” fol- words of the chapter, start at the le� in all capitals for a
lowed by three to four blank lines. Type your name new scene.
below where your signature will go. A partial is either the �rst three chapters (includ-
ing a prologue), or the �rst 50 pages of the manuscript.
�� Don’t choose 50 pages from the middle of your book-
Let’s talk about how to make your partial so fascinat- that would be cheating, and it’s frowned on by nearly
ing, editors absolutely won’t be able to wait to see the all editors and agents. Send the �rst 50 pages unless the
full manuscript. recipient speci�cally requests otherwise.
Always include a cover page on top of your partial. �e �e partial doesn’t have to be exactly 50 pages long.
cover page text should be centered, beginning with the Remember that you want your partial to end on an
working title (which can be bold and in a larger font), exciting note. If the end of your scene on page 50 or
then word count, followed by your contact informa- thereabouts is tantalizing, great. If it’s not, �nd a more
tion, including name, address, phone number and e-mail suspenseful place to end your partial. Whatever you do,
address. No header should appear on the cover page. make the editor drool to read more.
� ��
If editors don’t see cohesive characters, settings, and thing intriguing. Within the �rst 10 pages, you need to
plots, they won’t request to see more of your manu- have the editor or agent hooked.
script. Also remember that these elements need to be ��. I’m sure most of you have heard
developed almost as well (though much more suc- more about this than you care to, but if you submit a
cinctly) in the synopsis as in your book. proposal rife with passive writing, not only will the edi-
tor not want to see more of your manuscript, he won’t be
�� interested in future submissions from you, either. Learn
Include a self-addressed, stamped envelope (SASE) how to write in an active voice, show don’t tell, and give
with your query letter, along with the partial and syn- your prose impact and a natural, intriguing �ow.
opsis if directed. If you’re sending a partial, put a sturdy �� A huge percentage of editors
cardboard backing under the pile, and use extra-large and agents won’t accept head-hopping because trying
rubber bands to secure the pile both vertically and hor- to �gure out who’s in viewpoint from one minute to the
izontally. �is will keep it looking neat. next grows frustrating. Only one POV character per
scene—make that a rule from this point forward and
�� don’t step over that line, because following this rule
�� really will make your stories radically better.
Let’s go over the most common problems with partials
and how to avoid them. ��
��What’s Send out your very best material. �is may mean prepar-
the most important part of a novel? Hands down, char- ing your submission and letting it sit on a shelf for a week
acters. You can have the greatest plot on the face of the or two, possibly longer, before going back to view it with
earth, but if you don’t have even more exciting charac- fresh eyes. Only then can you be con�dent in sending it to
ters, you’ll never pull it o�. Creating amazing characters an editor or agent. Most editors and agents remember their
that reach out of your query, synopsis, and partial and �rst impression of an author for years to come. Make sure
grab an editor by the heart should be your paramount their �rst impression of you is that you’re a professional
task when you’re putting together a proposal. Nothing who’s spent a considerable amout of time preparing a per-
else you do will be even remotely as important. In fact, fect proposal with this speci�c editor/agent in mind.
I’d go so far as to say that if you completely �ub your Finally, don’t feel like everything I’ve said here is
proposal format, but your story characterization is out- written in stone. As long as everything in your submis-
standing, no editor will care about your faux pas. Great sion is consistent, editors aren’t likely to be o�ended by
characters can right a thousand wrongs. a slightly di�erent setup. Just make sure you provide
��A story must be every editor you submit to the most professional, con-
made up of cohesive elements. Characters, settings, and sistent, and intriguing proposal possible.
plot must �t together organically. All story threads— �e contents of your query letter, synopsis, and partial—
from the main ones to the minor ones—must have a not to mention how you package them—will play a part
unity that leads to steady development and satisfac- in how the editor or agent you submit to responds to
tory resolution. Give editors and agent something to your story. Armed with a clean, professional setup and
look forward to with pacing that heightens the intrigue. a story that you’ve made utterly irresistible in each por-
When an editor or agent sees a lack of cohesion in your tion of your proposal, you can have editors and agents
proposal, it’s a clear indication that you haven’t spent begging for your manuscript.
enough time thinking your story through and begin-
ning with a solid foundation. ��
�� Synopses and ��
manuscript introductions should begin with some- ��

To help you successfully complete your book in 30 days, this issue includes nine worksheets to help you keep track
of plot, scenes, characters and revisions. All worksheets included in this issue are described below. You can down-
load PDF versions of all worksheets by visiting http://www.writersdigest.com/article/novel-in-30-days-2011.
�� PAGES 102–104

See: “How You Can Write a Book in a Month,” pages 4–8
These worksheets help you outline before you start writing, and/or keep track of your story’s progression as you go.
�� PAGES 105–106

See: “Your 7-Day Jumpstart,” pages 33–39
This worksheet is especially critical for writers who will be working without any kind of outline. During the first few days
of your 30-day e�ort, you should complete this worksheet.
�� PAGE 107

See: “Your 7-Day Jumpstart,” pages 33–39; “To Outline or Not to Outline,” pages 23–30
Scene cards can be used as an outlining tool before you begin your 30-day e�ort, or as a daily writing and brainstorming
technique. Scene cards can also play a critical role in revision. Index cards can be used instead of the worksheet if preferred.
�� PAGES 108�112

The At-A-Glance Outline o�ers a quick way to fill in the blanks of your story. It guides you to answer the right ques-
tions for each area of your story, the questions that will come up fast when writing.
�� PAGES 113�114

See “Your 7-Day Jumpstart,” pages 33–39
Keep track of the qualities of each major character using these sketches. As you become more experienced as a writer,
you may want to create your own character profile worksheets.
�� PAGE 115

This more advanced outlining worksheet helps you identify where and how you will reveal important aspects of each
major character.
�� PAGE 116

See: “The Art of Closing Well,” pages 77–84
This worksheet helps you consider your novel’s climax, the point where the protagonist faces the conflict directly, with
his goal on the line.
�� PAGE 117

Questions on this worksheet analyze the novel’s post-climax scenes with an eye toward tying up unresolved arcs and
the novel as a whole.
�� PAGE 118

Plan ahead for characters’ changes of heart, new situations, unexpected betrayals and more.
STORY TRACKER
ACT I
CHARACTER PLOT SUBPLOT SETTING OTHER

ACT II
��
ACT III

STORY IDEA MAP
PLOT
MAIN STORY IDEA
HOOK�CATALYST�INCITING INCIDENT
ACT I TURNING POINT
THE STAKES
��
CHARACTERS
MAJOR CHARACTERS MINOR CHARACTERS
SETTING
SETTING PROPS

SCENE CARDS
SCENE:
CHARACTERS
SETTING
MOOD�TONE
SCENE OBJECTIVE
AT-A-GLANCE OUTLINE
TITLE
ACT I �WEEK ��
Briefly describe what happens in Act I from the initial story hook to the turning point.
Describe the setup.
Describe how the mood or tone is created (props, weather, emotions, setting, characters, style).
Identify the hook/incident.
Identify the first turning point.
Identify what is at stake (why readers should care).

PROTAGONIST’S PROTAGONST’S DETAILS TO
INTRODUCTION MOTIVATION REMEMBER
ANTAGONIST’S ANTAGONST’S DETAILS TO

INTRODUCTION MOTIVATION REMEMBER
SUPPORTING SUPPORTING UNUSUAL SUPPORTING

CHARACTER � CHARACTER � CHARACTER
SETTING PROPS TIME PERIOD
��
ACT II, PART � �WEEK ��
CHARACTER
Briefly describe what happens in the first half of Act II, from where the problem intensifies to the temporary triumph.
Describe how you want readers to feel (mood/tone) when reading this act. Also think about how you want
the protagonist to feel.
Describe how the problem intensifies.
Describe the temporary triumph. Is it an inner (psychological) and/or external triumph for the protagonist?
Think about how this triumph can be foreshadowed.
Decide whether a subplot plays a role or causes any e�ect.
MAIN SETTING OTHER

PROPS
FOR ACT II SETTINGS
ANY NEW WHY THEY THINGS TO

CHARACTERS ARE NEEDED REMEMBER

ACT II, PART � �WEEK ��
CHARACTER
Briefly describe what happens in the second half of Act II, from the reversal to the second turning point.
Describe how you want readers to feel (mood/tone) when reading this act. Also think about how you
want the protagonist to feel.
Describe how you will create and show the reversal.
Describe the second turning point. Think about how it relates to or sets up the final resolution in Act III.
Think about how you can foreshadow the second turning point in Act I or in the first half of Act II.
Describe how the hero’s decisions cause this turning point.
SETTING FOR SECOND OTHER

PROPS
TURNING POINT SETTINGS USED
NEW WHY THEY THINGS TO

CHARACTERS ARE NEEDED REMEMBER
��
ACT III �WEEK ��
Briefly describe what happens in Act III, from the final obstacle to the resolution.
Describe the final obstacle.
Describe how the mood or tone is created (props, weather, emotions, setting, characters, style).
Describe the climax.
Think about how this triumph can be foreshadowed.
Decide whether a subplot plays a role or causes any e�ect.
Note any loose ends you might need to tie up in the resolution.
Describe how you want readers to feel when they finish the story.
Think about whether your villain is defeated in the end. If he is, how? What are his crucial mistakes?
How are readers likely to respond to his failure or success?
Think about whether your hero wins in the end. If he does, how? What does he learn through his victory or defeat?
What is his biggest accomplishment or mistake?
Describe your story’s theme.

CHARACTER SKETCH
TITLE:
NAME:
NICKNAME:
BIRTH DATE�PLACE:
CHARACTER ROLE:
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTIONS:
Age:
Race:
Eye Color:
Hair Color/Style:
Build (Height/Weight):
Skin Tone:
Style of Dress:
Characteristics or Mannerisms:
PERSONALITY TRAITS:
��
BACKGROUND:
INTERNAL CONFLICTS:
EXTERNAL CONFLICTS:
OCCUPATION�EDUCATION:
MISCELLANEOUS NOTES:

CHARACTER-REVEALING SCENES
REVEALING SCENES FOR:
SCENES TO REVEAL APPEARANCE: SCENES TO REVEAL QUIRKS:
SCENES TO REVEAL CHARACTER’S LESSON: SCENES TO REVEAL SKILLS�WEAKNESSES:
SCENES TO REVEAL MOTIVATION: SCENES TO REVEAL TRAUMA:
CLIMAX
CLIMAX SKETCH
SCENE SUMMARY:
How is the protagonist’s external motivation or goal at risk in the scene?
What does he hope to accomplish if he succeeds?
Does the protagonist succeed or fail at this moment?
SETTING:
CHARACTERS:
ARCH OF INDIVIDUAL SCENE:
Has the external arc or quest been tied up by the end?

DÉNOUEMENT & CLOSING SCENES
DÉNOUEMENT SKETCH
SCENE SUMMARY:
How the Dénouement recalls the opening of the book and the overall internal motivation:
Tone that should be struck at the end of the book … the feeling the reader should take away with him:
SETTING:
CHARACTERS:
ARC OF INDIVIDUAL SCENE:
Have all outstanding minor subplots or arcs been successfully tied up?
What resonant moment or image should the novel end on?
REVERSAL BRAINSTORM
CURRENT REVERSAL
HOW THIS WOULD ALTER

THE CURRENT REVERSAL
NEW INFORMATION
NEW SITUATION
UNEXPECTED BETRAYALS
UNEXPECTED SHOWS OF SUPPORT
LAST-MINUTE CHANGE OF PLANS
CHANGE OF HEART
CHANGE IN PERCEPTIONS

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Write Your Novel in 30 Days PDF

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Write Your Novel in 30 Days PDF

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YOUR COMPLETE GUIDE TO A SOLID FIRST DRAFT

WRITER’S DIGEST presents

WRITE YOUR NOVEL

WRITE YOUR NOVEL

to other companies so they may contact you about products

Printed in the USA

WRITE YOUR NOVEL

Tap your daily life, as well as your imagination,

23 To Outline or Not to Outline?

It’s one of the biggest questions facing every

31 Word Count Basics

Know your goal so you can plan how many

GET A RUNNING START

LAY THE GROUNDWORK 33 Your 7-Day Jumpstart

4 How You Can Write a Book

It’s not impossible to write a quality

Stop making excuses. Everyone has time

������WRITE YOUR NOVEL IN �� DAYS

During the 30-day challenge, you should

Learn how to master the scene, and you’ll

70 5 Techniques to Keep Your

Story Moving Forward 115 Character-Revealing Scenes

It’s called the “Mushy Middle” for a reason. 116 Climax

77 �e Art of Closing Well

EVALUATE, REVISE, SUBMIT

86 �e Ultimate Revision Checklist

Here’s how to take your �rst dra� to

Has anyone written a book in 30 days?

Yeah, but how good were those books?

������WRITE YOUR NOVEL IN �� DAYS

Is it really feasible to write a book in 30 days? In a word:

Change Anne to Barbara and make sure she’s a pianist in

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Don’t start that manuscript without knowing

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�e �rst step in goal setting is identifying the right project.

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WORD COUNT BASICS

Aim for between 80,000 and 89,999 words. �is is a 100

reader age. When writing a longer book aimed at 12-

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Here are four paths for building your cast

need to ask of each: changer or stayer?

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[7] �e hero has a dark moment within himself that ��

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�� still a good signpost, you can slide it to the right a

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�� • Create a sense of urgency by dropping bits of

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�� Too few characters can result

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�� • Are there two characters with opposing objectives?

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waiter when your lead is in a restaurant. ��

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�ink of these additions as “spice.” �ey work best ��

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�� PAGES 102–104

�� PAGES 105–106

�� PAGE 107

�� PAGES 108�112

�� PAGES 113�114

�� PAGE 115

�� PAGE 116

�� PAGE 117

�� PAGE 118

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