I’m always awed by the enthusiasm of writers this time of year. Whether you’re a pantser or plotter or somewhere in between, right now – RIGHT NOW – you stand on the cusp of inspired creativity.
During the course of the next 30 days, you will be changed.
Some of us will have 50,000+ words written that didn’t exist before November. Some of us will fold for any number of reasons. I’ve been in both places come Dec. 1. It’s damn hard to write at that pace, and sometimes life gets in the way of that breakneck run.
All of us who participate in National Novel Writing Month will learn something about ourselves, our writing, our dedication to craft. We’ll breathe life into characters and watch them do unexplained things. We’ll drill down to the essence of a Story That Works. We’ll write with passion, perseverance, determination and even despair.
The best thing I can share is to follow the Five Commandments of Story Grid. Every story, every act, every scene must have these elements:
Inciting Incident
Progressive Complications
Crisis Question
Climax
Resolution
Stick with this deceptively simple structure and you’re not likely to get lost in the weeds. You’ve got this.
I’m a writer, and of all the
methods and approaches I’ve studied about the craft, Story Grid is the one that
makes the most sense to me because of its simplicity and scalability. I’m also
a Story Grid Editor, because I believe that good writers are made, not born.
I’d like to show you one of the ways that I’ve put Story Grid to work for me as
a writer, and why I think it’s one of the best tools out there. I’ll also share
a Scrivener template that I’ve customized based on the Foolscap.
The
deep down, nitty gritty, true value of the Story Grid method is as a diagnostic
tool. Its real power lies in applying it over and over to masterworks, to
assimilate the structure until it comes unbidden when you write. Fellow Story
Grid Editor Rebecca Monterusso urges us to find and study masterworks. That’s the most
immediate way that Story Grid will help you be a better writer. Find the
masterworks in your genre. Revisit your personal favorites and apply the
principles of the Story Grid method to analyze their global stories using the
Foolscap, to dissect their scenes with the razor-sharp concepts of the 5Cs, and
hold their pulsing turning points in your bare hands.
But
let’s put our editing mind aside and put on our favorite funky writer’s hat
because I’d like to show how I use the Foolscap as a tool to help draft my
stories.
The
Story Grid Foolscap has its origin in a conversation between
at-that-time-aspiring writer Steven Pressfield, and documentary filmmaker
Norman Stahl, who told Steven that he should be able to distill the essence of
a story, any story, into three parts (beginning, middle, end) that could be
written on a single sheet of legal-sized paper.
These
days, Pressfield claims, he never begins a novel until he’s worked up its
Foolscap.
Later,
Shawn Coyne drew similarities with his own structured approach to manuscript
analysis and incorporated the Six Core Questions and the Five Commandments of
storytelling, resulting in the Story Grid Foolscap.
I
believe it is one of the first and best writing tools an author should reach
for when starting a new manuscript.
ONE SHEET TO RULE THEM ALL
The
concept of using a single sheet of paper to plot a course of action is not
unique to the Foolscap. In the writing world, distilling a storyline down to
its essence is a common practice. A story spine is essentially similar. The
notion of a story spine appears in Brian MacDonald’s Invisible Ink, although
MacDonald later claimed not to be the originator of the story spine’s language.
A
set of guidelines known as Pixar’s 22 Rules of Storytelling first appeared
in a series of Twitter posts by Emma Coats, a former Pixar writer. It was later
compiled and can still be found on the internet in various forms. Rule #4
describes the structure of a story spine as a series of beats that lead the
reader through the action, smoothly and logically.
Once
upon at time there was _____. Every day, _____. One day _____. Because of that,
____. Until finally _____.
The
business world also makes use of the single sheet format. Lean
is a management approach to maximize output and minimize waste that has gained
traction far beyond the manufacturing floor where it began. It employs a series
of tools intended to standardize business practices, one of which is known as
the One-Pager.
The
Lean One-Pager distills all the relevant information related to a project,
problem or concept onto a single sheet of paper. It forces clear thinking and
focuses attention on the critical mission. It’s a communication and
organization tool that can be applied widely. It clarifies a complicated issue.
The
creation of a One-Pager requires the creator to begin with the end in mind,
list key points, and identify the message.
Sounds
a lot like a Foolscap to me.
What
all of these methods or concepts have in common, is that they are exercises
meant to be undertaken BEFORE the completion of a product.
So
the Foolscap is—in case you need any more convincing—an excellent writing tool
that can be used to inspire creation and set a course of work.
A WRITER’S TOOLBOX: HOW I USE THE
FOOLSCAP
Like
a lot of you, I’m already prepping for Nanowrimo, and I’m using the Foolscap to
lay the groundwork for that upcoming writing blitz, developing and testing
story ideas.
I’ve
created a blank Foolscap that you can download as a Google
Sheet to either edit online or print and fill out by hand. You’ll see some
small modifications to Shawn’s version, inspired by my own writing and
editing experience and that of other Story Grid editors.
Along
with a blank Foolscap, I use notecards and a Scrivener template of my own
design as I develop a story. I’ll walk you through my process, but never forget
that this is merely Form, and not a Formula. One size does not fit all, and
your results will vary.
I’m
going to start by telling you something you already know.
Just pick one. You can always change
your mind later, and that’s okay, but committing to a Story Grid genre at the
start will place you firmly on a path to writing a story that works. It gives
you a set of obligatory scenes and genre conventions to guide you, and if
you’re starting with an idea in mind, chances are some of those scenes are
already worked up in concept.
You
can find details on scenes and conventions, theme and controlling idea in the
online Story Grid resources. The Fundamental Fridays blog series is a rich and
robust source of specific details collected and curated by the Story Grid
Editors. If you’re like me, you’ve printed ‘em all and have them easily at
hand.
IT’S ALL ABOUT VALUE
Now
that you’ve picked a genre, you have an associated global value. More
importantly, you have a global value progression, and you’ll need that as you
work through your plan.
If
you are unsure about what the global value progression is or why it’s
important, I highly recommend that you go back and reread Valerie Francis’s Value
Shift 101 article.
Simply
put, when you commit to a genre, you know what values your story will turn on.
We’re
going to apply the global value progression to the Foolscap and determine what
transitional scenes you’ll need to write as you progress from Beginning Hook to
Middle Build, and Middle Build to Ending Payoff.
As
you move from your setup to the meat of your story (Beginning Hook to Middle
Build), you need a scene at the end of the Beginning Hook to shift the internal
and external genre values in a Big Way.
As
you enter the Ending Payoff, you must have a scene at the end of Middle Build
to shift Internal and External genres in an Even Bigger Way.
For
example, a Worldview/Maturity story may move the Protagonist from Naivety
Masked As Sophistication at the start of the Beginning Hook to Naivety or
Ignorance at the transition to Middle Build. By the end of the Middle Build,
the Protagonist moves beyond Ignorance and gains Understanding that will lead
them to Wisdom in the Ending Payoff.
The
value continues to move throughout each act as the Protagonist struggles to make
progress on their goal (their object of desire). The transition at the end of
the Middle Build reflects a different step in the process, not necessarily the
direct next step from the value shift at the end of the first major transition.
Write
down the major transitions that you have determined on your Foolscap. Remember,
you can change them later. Your commitment to genre is fuel for the engine that
will get you through the story. The important thing is that the first one is a
significant change, and the second one is even bigger.
THE PARTS OF THE BEAST
Most
writers start with some sort of a premise, a “what if” idea. What if a human
boy was raised by the ghosts of the dead? What if a mild home-loving folk were
thrust into the greatest conflict of their world? What if a rule-breaking loner
became the face of a revolution? Some writers may have a character concept they
want to put through their paces; others start with a world in mind where
aspects of nature or magic or society are forces to be reckoned with.
This
is your Beginning Hook, and your global Inciting Incident has its roots here.
Now
I’ll ask you to skip past the Middle Build for now to the Big Climax scene. The
Ending Payoff is intimately linked to the Beginning Hook, and here is where
you’ll eventually come full circle, fulfilling the hopes raised in the BH,
answering questions, echoing and emphasizing theme.
J.K.
Rowling gave us her best writing advice in the Harry Potter series: “I open at
the close.” Rowling embedded layers of meaning in this enigmatic statement. Not
only does it harken back to her Beginning Hook, it’s meta-advice to the writer.
Start with the end in mind.
Now
you know, more or less, your start and your end points.
Remember
the Pixar story spine? We can see how that fits into the three act Story Grid
structure:
Beginning
Hook: Once upon a time there was ___. Every day, ___.
Middle
Build: One day ___. Because of that, ___. Because of that, ___.
Ending
Payoff: Until finally ___.
There’s
a great little video by South Park writers Matt Stone and Trey
Parker that I recommend you watch. It’s just over two minutes long, and will
help you as you work up a story spine. Basically, you never want the beats of
your story spine to connect with “and then…” Make it dynamic.
With
your story spine sketched out, go back and think about each act, knowing that
your major scenes need to move the value or charge in the direction you’ve
already determined.
SCENEWORK
At
this point I fall back on a technique I learned from Robert McKee’s Story.
Write your scenes in one or two simple sentences onto one side of an index
card. Don’t kill yourself over whether or not it’s a true scene yet. These can
be impressions, movements, or sketches. You can jot down a note like,
“Something happens here to change the Protag’s mind about who the Enemy really
is.” At this point, it’s entirely all right to leave blanks or be vague. If it
doesn’t come easily, don’t worry. It will come later as you’re immersed in the
writing process. It’s amazing how your brain deep-thinks these things during
the act of writing.
I’m
also a huge believer in placeholders. I tend to use the word Elephant whenever
I can’t think of a name: Mr. Elephant, the Elephant River, Elephant & Sons
Storage. I go back when the first draft is done and search the placeholder
term, making a list of things that need names. Obviously, if you’re writing
about zoos, circuses or safaris, you’ll want to choose a different word.
Pressfield makes use of the editing phrase “TK,” meaning “to come.”
Director
and screenwriter Paul Schraeder recommends developing your story material
so that it includes these six essential elements:
Make use of genre conventions.
They’re not only a way to manage your readers’ expectations, they are your
opportunity to flex your creative muscles.
Work
the cards. Move them around. Lay them out. Group them together. Think about
what’s missing. Remove the cards that don’t lead you through from your
beginning hook to ending payoff in a chain reaction of events.
Scrivener has a notecard view that will let you do that within the program. I like to go with the physical cards to start, because if I’ve got a whole bunch of them, between global story, subplots, and character arcs, I can arrange them on a tabletop or the floor and see the story as a whole. My dinky little laptop screen isn’t big enough to show me everything at once. If you’re a Scrivener user, you can sign up to get my custom Scrivener template here.
Going
back to the Foolscap, you see that within each act are the Five Commandments,
making for a total of Fifteen Core Scenes that create a scaffolding or structure
for a potentially workable plot. I always have several cards stacked under the
Progressive Complications, and list them as bullet points within the
Progressive Complications when drafting out the Foolscap. The Turning Point
Progressive Complication is critical, and I’ve borrowed from Valerie to set it
apart in my version of the Foolscap.
By
now, you’ve got a strong story spine, a sequence of impactful scenes and a
pretty good feel for their placement in the Foolscap based on the transition
point values of the global value progression you selected earlier.
YOU KNEW THIS WAS COMING
That’s
the easy part. Now you must write.
You
don’t have to write your scenes in order. Some people prefer to write straight
through from “Once upon a time,” to “happily ever after, and wiser as well.” I
don’t write sequentially, but it’s entirely a personal choice. I write where my
passion or emotions draw me, the heartfelt scenes.
Steven
Pressfield writes out of order, and he (of course) advises the writer to tackle
the toughest scenes first. He’s such a manly writer; Ernest Hemingway would be
proud. Pressfield’s fiction has taught me more about men than my own father.
And a heck of a lot about writing to boot.
But
write where you’re drawn. In this creative phase, you need to capitalize on
your excitement for the story. Court the muse. Give her what she wants. Later,
as you’re editing, it’s not unusual to find that some of your best work comes
from that place.
If
you get stuck, go back to the Foolscap you created. It’s a road map, a blue
print, a plan. You can adjust and modify it as needed. Maybe you find a scene
works better before the Middle Build Turning Point rather than after it. Or you
realize you’re writing a love story after all. It’s a lot easier to change your
Foolscap than realize it after the fact and have to deal with major rewrites.
Let’s
be honest, for some of us, Shawn Coyne’s article The Math
was like the pusher’s first sweet treat. This Many Scenes + This Many Words
Per Scene = A Novel! But when we climb out of the gutter of self-delusion,
we see that Story Grid is not a magic formula. It’s a Course of Work.
Don’t
think about writing a whole novel. You can write a 2000-word Progressive
Complication or Crisis scene. Break the story into manageable pieces. It’s why
the Pomodoro Method works. You can do Whatever, for
25 minutes. I suspect that even Stephen King takes more than 25 minutes to
write a scene, but if you keep at it, you’ll get it done.
YOU DON’T HAVE FOREVER TO WRITE THAT
NOVEL
Foolscapping
streamlines the 10,000 hours said to be needed to master your craft. Shawn
believes it is “an exponential reducer of labor.”
For
Nano, we don’t have 10,000 hours. Even if we wrote for 8 hours a day for 30
days, after regaining consciousness in mid-December, we’d find that’s still only
240 hours, or 2.4%. Just so you have a feel now for how long that 10,000 hours
is.
The
Foolscap should be the first tool you reach for when you’re writing fiction
from scratch. According to Pressfield, it’s “a way to kick your ass … at the
very start of a project.” Or to guide you when you’re lost and don’t remember
all those awesome ideas you had when you started.
November is almost upon us. 50,000
words is a challenge – there’s no arguing that point. But you’ve got the tools
you need to reach that mark, not just in word count, but in the development of
a first draft that will put you on track toward a great story.
Use
the Foolscap to set your targets and go after them.
__________________________________________
I am deeply grateful to Shelley Sperry and Sophie Thomas for their thoughtful insights and keen eyes on an early draft of this article.
I’m like a lot of writers out there. Maybe you’re like me. I’ve been a storyteller since I was a kid (perhaps “embellisher of truth” is a more accurate description). We had a stand-up Show & Tell in 2nd grade and, well, I was always a Teller.
I would regale my classmates with tales of my adventures on my grandparents’ farm – the soft noses of horses when I fed them apples, my toes nibbled by catfish as I swam in the pond, watching the pumpkins in the patch grow larger by the day.
The thing was, you see, my grandparents didn’t actually live on a farm. They lived in a station house in New Jersey, close to New York City and a long way from the countryside.
But what if they did?
What if?
(I live by those words.)
I made stories out of spelling lists, and spun elaborate scenarios when I played make believe with my friends. As I grew older I filled notebook after notebook with stories. Mostly horse stories at first, but then adventure stories inspired by the Chronicles of Narnia and Mary Stewart’s The Crystal Cave. I devoured a box of old Conan paperbacks, and visited worlds beyond those when I discovered Heinlein and Asmiov.
Well, that was it. I was absolutely hooked on fantasy and sci-fi.
Later, I was a masterful DM. Almost every weekend for four years I ran a drop-in D&D game with a motley cast of regulars who loved the stories I made up for them.
And I continued to write. Stories flowed from my fingers like a river in the spring. Notebooks turned into computer files and I continued to write. It was my favorite distraction in grad school, and my inspiration seem to run highest when I had a research paper due.
My stories were rich and full of exotic characters and worlds. My friends (even some of my professors) said I wrote well.
Writing fiction was always a hobby for me. An escape from the mundane responsibilities of school, work and, later, family. But as much fun as it was for me, my stories never seemed to roll as well as the stuff I read. Something was missing.
A few years ago, I decided to change that. I started picking apart plots in my favorite paperbacks, seeking the specifics of storylines in movies that sucked me in. I already knew about the Hero’s Journey, and was a huge fan of Joseph Campbell from college anthro classes. I learned about POV, and Swain’s scene and sequel. I created a table that compared different plot structures from a variety of sources (you can find that over in my blog).
Then my writing world changed forever.
I read The War of Art by Stephen Pressfield AND discovered The Story Grid Podcast within weeks of each other.
Mind. Blown.
I followed the Story Grid podcast as East Coast publishing house editor Shawn Coyne led aspiring writer Tim Grahl on a journey from “wouldn’t it be cool–” to scenes that turned and a plot that worked.
Best part about it, they told me how.
And it was simple.
Not easy, mind you. But simple. Pressfield told me what I already knew about the forces of Resistance and why, unless I fought them with everything I had, my writing would always be just a hobby. That’s the hard part. Things didn’t change for me until I faced up to Resistance, knew it for what it was, and determined to fight back..
I decided to “go pro.”
And then, as if those were magic words (they actually are, you know), the Story Grid Editor Certification Program showed up in my inbox.
TL:DR I went to Nashville in September 2017 where I met not only Shawn and Tim (who are as amazing and knowledgeable in person as on their podcast) but 19 other writers drawn by the same call.
I knew from the very first day of that week-long workshop, that this was something Big. It was exciting and scary and amazing, and I learned so much! Not only about improving my own writing, but how to help others make their stories better, too.
Because Story Grid works.
It’s made a difference in my stories. I’m revising the draft of an early novel using what I’ve learned about plot and story, and I’m pretty happy with how it’s going.
I’m so lucky to be a Story Grid Editor, part of an amazing group of people as crazy about story and plot and writing as I am.
I’ve learned about Story Grid directly from its creator. I’ve been coached on how to share the Story Grid method by a successful entrepreneur. And I’m part of an active and engaged group of Story Grid editors always eager to share ideas and help each other out.
I’d love to hear about your writer’s journey. If you’d like to talk story with me, you can schedule a half-hour call with me. It’s free. No catch. I won’t try to sell you anything, because everything you need to know about the Story Grid method is already free for the taking on the website and in the podcast.
Tell me what I can do to help you along your own path.
Did you just stay up until midnight every day in November to wring out 50,000 (or 20,000 or 80,000) words for your NaNoWriMo project? Or are you almost finished with a first draft of a memoir or family history you’ve been sweating over for years? If you wrestled any such beast even remotely near to completion, we hope you’re taking a celebratory lap around your desk and then collapsing for a nice long nap. It’s important to take time to acknowledge that you’re doing something many people think about but few begin—and even fewer finish—you’re writing a book! But then what do you do beyond NaNoWriMo?
In this post we’re going to talk about paths you can take to get to the next big crossroads on the journey toward publication. If you’re in a post-NaNo haze right now, you might be asking: Is my story ready for a professional editor? Well, maybe and maybe not. The answer depends on the kind of editing you’re looking for. You’ll probably want to do a bit more self-editing before taking the plunge, but you may want to get some advice from a developmental or story editor if you’re feeling confused and overwhelmed. Let’s walk through a checklist to help you figure out where you are, and at the end we’ll include a Guide to Editors that should make the journey a little easier.
Give Your Creative Brain Some Time Off
Your mind needs a little rest and recuperation time, so what we Story Grid editors always suggest is that you and your precious pages take a little vacation from each other after the first draft. In On Writing, Stephen King gives the advice you’ll see repeated by lots of other writers: Put that manuscript in a drawer and walk (or run) away! King says that the period of drawer time for a book is a little like letting dough rest between periods of kneading: “Your mind and imagination—two things which are related, but not really the same—have to recycle themselves, at least in regard to this one particular work.”
King suggests six weeks as a good minimum hiatus, and he assumes writers will be working on other projects during that break. But for a lot of first-time and early-career writers, six weeks will feel like too long. Give yourself at least four weeks to do some reading in your favorite genre and to replenish yourself with whatever makes you feel energized and excited about writing again—museums, camping trips, building pillow forts with your kids—that will go a long way toward preparing you for the tough task ahead.
Read a Masterwork in Your Story’s Genre
Did you write an epic fantasy? Read Patrick Rothfuss’ Name of the Wind. A thriller with an unreliable narrator? Try Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn. A history or biography that’s also an adventure story? Pick up River of Doubt by Candice Millard.
Support your public library, and ask a librarian what’s new in your chosen genre. Check the genre and sub-genre lists on Goodreads. The point is to soak in the work of a writer who got it right. Make notes on the most awesome parts. When you’ve finished, read another one.
Read Your Whole Manuscript with Your Editor Brain Fully Engaged
Every writer has an editor brain, but it isn’t, and shouldn’t be, engaged when writing that first draft with your intuitive, creative right brain. Everyone’s first draft is messy and incomplete. Neil Gaiman tells it like it is: “Your first draft doesn’t count.” And as Shawn explains in The Story Grid book, the editor’s “left brain makes the artist’s right brain work.”
When you’re ready to move beyond NaNoWriMo, take a deep breath and open your manuscript. It’s time to apply the Story Grid principles in a methodical, left-brain way by looking for the characteristics of a ripe and ready story and noting where yours is weak. As you begin to analyze that first draft, you have lots of tools available to help in the articles and podcast transcripts available here on the Story Grid site.
Read the manuscript through a couple of times, ask yourself the following questions. As you answer them, prepare a fresh Foolscap Global Story Grid. Even if you started planning your story with an initial Foolscap outline, take out a blank document and do it again. You’ll be able to see how your global story changed during the process of writing. More important, if you can’t clearly define one or more of the elements on the Foolscap, you’ll know where you’ve got problems with your Global Story.
The Foolscap Building Blocks
Do You Have a Solid Understanding of Your Story’s Genre and Sub-Genre?
Everything comes down to genre. Without understanding genre, you’re adrift on a restless sea with no destination in sight. Genre is your guiding star, your lodestone on the journey to becoming a better writer.
Genre tells your reader what to expect.
Understanding genre will make your work as a writer a lot easier. Committing to a genre for your story will save you a lot of disappointment and rewriting as you move beyond NaNoWriMo.
What external and/or internal values are at stake and how do they turn in each part of the story? You don’t have to have both an external and internal genre, but that should be a conscious choice. For example, Andy Weir’s The Martian is an Action story featuring a Man Against Nature sub-genre and virtually no character arc for the lonely protagonist, Mark Watley. Weir doesn’t need an Internal genre because the heart of this exciting story is Mark’s brilliant use of science and engineering to overcome impossible odds and survive.
Once you’re sure of your genre and sub-genre, consider whether you have included the Obligatory Scenes and Conventions that readers will expect. Shawn does a great rundown of Weir’s fulfillment of those scenes and conventions in his Foolscap for The Martian and on the podcast.
You can read Shawn’s in-depth article on genre types and see examples of representative masterworks here.
Is Your Point of View Consistent?
Do you head-hop from character to character within a scene? Is your chosen POV right for the story? In her recent blog post, Story Grid editor Kimberly Kessler stresses that a writer must make an active choice about the story’s point of view. Take a look at stories in your chosen genre to see whether they use first-person, third-person omniscient, free indirect, or another POV.
The use of first-person POV and present tense is a popular YA choice that builds a sense of immediacy and immersion, but limits the narrative to only what the POV character experiences. Suzanne Collins chose it to tell The Hunger Games entirely from Katniss’s point of view, and that worked beautifully to help readers empathize with the character’s inner struggles.
Third person omniscient is a challenging choice that makes use of an external narrator, but can lead a novice writer into inadvertent head-hopping. Brian Davis has written a post for Scribophile that dives deep into the advantages and pitfalls of third person omniscient POV.
Free indirect style is a form of third person limited POV that removes the narrative barrier between the character and the reader. It’s often used in current fiction. Shawn looks at Thomas Harris’s use of free indirect style in his classic Thriller, Silence of the Lambs.
Second-person POV is more common in nonfiction than fiction. Margaret Atwood is a contemporary writer who has used second-person in some of her shorter works, but it is a device best left to a seasoned or experimental writer.
For detailed descriptions of the four major types of point of view, read Joe Bunting’s article at The Write Practice. Selecting your story’s POV is a critical decision. Whatever narrative voice you’ve chosen, be sure it remains steady throughout your draft.
Have You Developed Both Your Protagonist and Antagonist?
Do you understand your protagonist’s and antagonist’s objects of desire? Is your protagonist a believable character that readers want to engage with? Does he or she follow a clear arc or Hero’s Journey? Is your antagonist as strong and three-dimensional as your protagonist?
In many ways, your antagonist is the heart of your story.
Opposition provides the conflict necessary for your protagonist to make choices, thereby revealing their true nature. Actions always speak louder than words. Your protagonist will be known by their responses to conflict, and it’s the adversary that forces those choices and invokes change. Steven Pressfield has written insightful articles exploring the nature of a top-notch villain here and here.
The antagonist doesn’t have to be a person. An antagonist can be environmental or social forces in opposition to the protagonist’s goals, not merely an individual villain standing in their way. Katniss Everdeen confronts an unjust social order in The Hunger Games, as does Winston Smith in George Orwell’s 1984. Cancer is the deadly threat in The Fault in Our Stars. The Martian pits astronaut Mark Watney against a lethal environment; in Cujo, it’s a dog.
The antagonist should be every bit as as well-developed as your main character. If you could flip things around and make your Big Bad the main character, would their goals and needs be strong enough to drive the story?
What makes Cujo more than just a monster? A rabid dog is, on the surface, a simple adversary, arguably small stakes and even cliché. But Stephen King stabs us in the heart by showing us throughout the story that Cujo was a Good Dog acting under forces beyond his control, not a simple monster after all.
What makes your antagonist different from Sauron or Hannibal Lecter or President Snow? What makes them more than a two-dimensional cliché? Can your reader understand what compels the antagonist forward in opposition to the hero, in pursuit of their own desires? That’s what makes a strong antagonist.
Do You Obey the Global Five Commandments?
Do you see clear turning points in each section—beginning hook, middle build, and ending payoff— of your manuscript? Don’t worry about individual scenes at this stage, but do consider whether you’ve obeyed the Global Five Commandments, with a strong inciting incident, progressive complications, crisis, climax, and resolution in the story as a whole and in each section.
If you’re still feeling unsure about elements of your story, step back and compare it with a story that you know works well.
Choose a masterwork, pick it apart, and then let it inspire you to sharpen your inciting incident, make your complications deeper, or create a more satisfying climax and resolution.
The classic film Casablanca is currently showing on big screens in celebration of its 75th anniversary. The performances are brilliant, of course, and keep audiences riveted even if we know exactly how all the plot twists turn out. The stakes couldn’t be higher in terms of the love triangle, Rick’s redemption arc, and the larger action story about a freedom fighter’s escape from the Nazis. For writers, the film provides beautiful lessons in each of the Five Commandments. The handing off and hiding of a letter of transit from Peter Lorre’s Ugarte to Humphrey Bogart’s Rick Blaine is one of the cleverest inciting incidents in movie history. But the film’s lessons in progressive complications are even better, as we gradually see all the major and minor characters engage in progressively more defiant actions against Major Strasser and the Third Reich, culminating in a climax that includes (spoilers!) Strasser’s death, the freedom fighter’s escape, and the surprise redemption of not one, but two heroes. Talk about a master class!
Has a Theme or Controlling Idea Emerged?
Theme is so closely linked to genre that in some genre types, the controlling idea is already there. Shawn and Tim discuss theme in depth in the aptly titled podcast Musings on Theme.
You might have had an idea about theme before you began writing, but more often a theme reveals itself when you, as a self-editor, look more critically at your global story and genre conventions. Or it may take someone else’s eyes to see your theme; Shawn describes just this situation while working with Steven Pressfield on Gates of Fire.
Pressfield has several invaluable posts about wrestling with questions of theme on his own website. In one post, he talks about the emergence of theme from our unconscious, saying, “We don’t pick our theme. Our theme picks us.” And in another he examines the difference between a subject and a theme in a work of art: “The subject of the Jurassic Park movies is dinosaurs. The theme is, ‘Don’t mess with Mother Nature.’”
If your theme is elusive at this point, don’t sweat it. Set it aside for a while. It will come—maybe in conversations with a friend or an editor.
Find an Outside Reader and Consider a Developmental Editor
After you’ve gone back to your first draft with your editor’s mind engaged, you’ve applied the fundamentals of the Story Grid method to your novel or nonfiction project, Shawn Coyne’s Five Commandments are etched forever on your immortal soul, and when you’ve removed the cringeworthy stereotypes, the cliché outcomes, and the purple prose (You have read the whole thing out loud to yourself, haven’t you?), you’re almost there.
If you haven’t done it already, make sure to have an outside reader look at your manuscript. It can be your favorite beta reader or your supportive writers group, but you really should have at least one other person read your manuscript before you take the plunge and hire an editor. (Hint: Relatives don’t always make the best beta readers. Seriously.)
If you’d like someone to help you take your rough ideas or a messy first NaNo draft through the stages we described above or have already self-edited your manuscript to the point of a pretty good second or third draft, it may be time for a fresh critique from a story expert. In either case, you’ll want to consider working with a developmental editor. If you decide the answer is no for now, revisit the idea in six months. Investing in expert advice early on can save you a few drafts and several gray hairs, so it’s worth it. Take a look at our Guide to Editors for more information. Or visit the Story Grid Editing Services page, if you’re ready to take the plunge.
Working with a developmental editor can make the difference between an adequate story and one that truly works or even hits the top of its genre. It takes commitment and hard work, but no matter how you decide to proceed, keep writing! If you’ve gotten this far in the process, you’ve already demonstrated you’ve got what it takes to be a better writer.
I’ve been a storyteller since I was a kid (perhaps “embellisher of truth” is a more accurate description). We had a stand-up Show & Tell in 2nd grade and, well, I was always a Teller.
I would regale my classmates with tales of my adventures on my grandparents’ farm – the soft noses of horses when I fed them apples, my toes nibbled by catfish as I swam in the pond, watching the pumpkins in the patch grow larger by the day.
The thing was, you see, my grandparents didn’t actually live on a farm. They lived in a station house in New Jersey, close to New York City and a long way from the countryside.
But what if they did?
What if?
(I live by those words.)
I made stories out of spelling lists, and spun elaborate scenarios when I played make believe with my friends. As I grew older I filled notebook after notebook with stories. Mostly horse stories at first, but then adventure stories inspired by the Chronicles of Narnia and Mary Stewart’s The Crystal Cave. I devoured a box of old Conan paperbacks, and visited worlds beyond those when I discovered Heinlein and Asmiov.
Well, that was it. I was absolutely hooked on fantasy and sci-fi.
Later, I was a masterful DM. Almost every weekend for four years I ran a drop-in D&D game with a motley cast of regulars who loved the stories I made up for them.
And I continued to write. Stories flowed from my fingers like a river in the spring. Notebooks turned into computer files and I continued to write. It was my favorite distraction in grad school, and my inspiration seem to run highest when I had a research paper due.
My stories were rich and full of exotic characters and worlds. My friends (even some of my professors) said I wrote well.
Writing fiction was always a hobby for me. An escape from the mundane responsibilities of school, work and, later, family. But as much fun as it was for me, my stories never seemed to roll as well as the stuff I read. Something was missing.
A few years ago, I decided to change that. I started picking apart plots in my favorite paperbacks, seeking the specifics of storylines in movies that sucked me in. I already knew about the Hero’s Journey, and was a huge fan of Joseph Campbell from college anthro classes. I learned about POV, and Swain’s scene and sequel. I created a table that compared different plot structures from a variety of sources (you can find that over in my blog).
Then my writing world changed forever.
I read The War of Art by Stephen Pressfield AND discovered The Story Grid Podcast within weeks of each other.
Mind. Blown.
I followed the Story Grid podcast as East Coast publishing house editor Shawn Coyne led aspiring writer Tim Grahl on a journey from “wouldn’t it be cool–” to scenes that turned and a plot that worked.
Best part about it, they told me how.
And it was simple.
Not easy, mind you. But simple. Pressfield told me what I already knew about the forces of Resistance and why, unless I fought them with everything I had, my writing would always be just a hobby. That’s the hard part. Things didn’t change for me until I faced up to Resistance, knew it for what it was, and determined to fight back..
I decided to “go pro.”
And then, as if those were magic words (they actually are, you know), the Story Grid Editor Certification Program showed up in my inbox.
TL:DR I went to Nashville in September 2017 where I met not only Shawn and Tim (who are as amazing and knowledgeable in person as on their podcast) but 19 other writers drawn by the same call.
I knew from the very first day of that week-long workshop, that this was something Big. It was exciting and scary and amazing, and I learned so much! Not only about improving my own writing, but how to help others make their stories better, too.
Because Story Grid works.
It’s made a difference in my stories. I’m revising the draft of an early novel using what I’ve learned about plot and story, and I’m pretty happy with how it’s going.
I’m so lucky to be a Story Grid Editor, part of an amazing group of people as crazy about story and plot and writing as I am.
I’ve learned about Story Grid directly from its creator. I’ve been coached on how to share the Story Grid method by a successful entrepreneur. And I’m part of an active and engaged group of Story Grid editors always eager to share ideas and help each other out.
I’d love to hear about your writer’s journey. If you’d like to talk story with me, you can schedule a half-hour call with me. It’s free. No catch. I won’t try to sell you anything, because everything you need to know about the Story Grid method is already free for the taking on the website and in the podcast.
Tell me what I can do to help you along your own path.