While there are many kinds of stories, most of them today are about a protagonist navigating a change or growth arc. In this model, the character undergoes a personal journey of evolution; they realize that their hurts, habits, or hang-ups are keeping them from success and, over time, adopt healthier responses and behaviors that enable them to achieve their story goal and become fulfilled.

Now, this isn’t a straightforward process. It’s a two-steps-forward-one-step-back journey that will require a lot of difficulties and poor choices before the character realizes the need for change. So, as authors, we put a ton of thought into planning and incorporating those conflict scenarios.

What we don’t spend so much time on is the second half of the arc, when growth is underway.

Once the character decides to change course, they’ll start moving the right direction. But they won’t always stay on the straight and narrow. Their old responses may be ineffective, but they’re comfortable and familiar. And change is hard. So the path to success (or failure, if your story showcases a failed arc) will be messy, alternating between forward progress and regression.

But growth should gradually be happening, and readers need to see this because it provides hope that the character could actually succeed. Luckily, there are many growth milestones—changes in the character’s responses—you can include in your story to show they’re evolving.

Growth Indicators

Trying a New Response. As the character realizes their old ways are inadequate or even harmful, they’ll become desperate enough to try something new. The outcome may be positive, ineffective, or mixed, but it doesn’t matter. Just the act of stepping out of their comfort zone and taking a risk is a sign that growth is happening.

Recognizing Landmines: In the past, the character failed to spot danger until it was too late, and they suffered terribly. The upside of this experience is they’ve learned to be attentive and prepare more thoroughly. If something happens now, they can react from a place of strength, better positioned to save themselves from preventable fallout.

Setting Boundaries: The character sees how their inability to say no in the past generated unwanted results. Setting reasonable boundaries now to protect themselves is an indicator that they’re becoming more self-aware and are willing to make hard choices.

Asking for Help: Some trials are too difficult to navigate solo, a lesson that a stubborn, independent, or untrusting character may have to learn the hard way. Once they do, however, the desire to avoid needless suffering teaches them to recognize when they need help, and by asking for it, they demonstrate maturity.

Choosing Positivity: If a character tends to be negative, show growth by shifting their mindset. This could mean they focus on strengths instead of weaknesses, engage in positive self-talk, or practice gratitude. Transformation typically begins in the mind, so even a small change like finding the silver lining in a bad situation shows readers that change is underway.

Regulating Emotions: Self-control is a major aspect of emotional maturity. Things are simple when life is peachy but become harder when conflict rears its head. Recalling the problems that were caused by a past loss of emotional control in the face of difficulty may encourage the character to restrain themselves this time around.

Not Giving Up. The journey to change is hard, with the character getting knocked down repeatedly. At first, they may not get up right away; they’ll retreat to their old ways because they don’t want to be hurt again. But struggling back to their feet and pushing forward is a sign that they realize the value of internal change and are willing to take risks to achieve it.

These are just a few ways you can show a character’s development, and you’ll need to use many of them throughout the story because evolution is an active process. The character will need to choose, over and over, if they want to take risks and pursue change or cling to their status quo. It’s up to us to provide those opportunities and position the character for growth. How do we do that, exactly?

Use an Emotion Amplifier to Show Progress

Emotion amplifiers are perfect for this because the character’s response to these challenging situations will highlight their growth (or lack thereof).

Amplifiers are states or conditions, such as bereavement, attraction, and isolation, that activate the character’s emotions and increase the chance of them reacting impulsively rather than carefully. As a result, they often lead to mishaps and mistakes that create more problems. But they can also be used to show that change is happening. As an example, let’s look at one character’s growth journey fueled by an unsettling amplifier that everyone has faced: indecision.

Amir is a recent university graduate with great job prospects. Three companies have offered him positions that would kick-start his career in biometrics—exciting but nerve-racking, because it’s such a big decision. It doesn’t help that one of his classmates is a few weeks into her first job and already regrets her choice.

With each passing day, Amir grows more conflicted, unable to choose. He has trouble sleeping, and his temper flares at the smallest thing. His girlfriend, tired of getting her head bitten off, has had enough and calls it quits. Then, after weeks of waffling, the most promising offer is rescinded, leaving Amir with the two least favorable options.

Here, we see Amir’s default responses to indecision, and they’re not doing him any favors. As readers witness his reactions, they’ll know exactly how Amir will have to change if he’s going to thrive. We can create opportunities for him to do better and show his evolution by hitting him with the same amplifier later in the story.

Fast forward six months, and Amir is facing indecision again—this time, regarding his living situation. A big rent increase is coming, so he must choose to remain in a cramped, expensive apartment near his friends or relocate to a more affordable place closer to work. The hold on the new apartment expires in a few days; as the deadline looms, his old insecurities and panic rise.

Once more, everything seems to set Amir off. He becomes aware of how often he’s apologizing for being a jerk, and he remembers what that cost him last time. His decision paralysis is familiar, too; it cheated him out of a great job opportunity before, and he doesn’t want that to happen again. He realizes he must change the way he responds to indecision, so he sits down and creates a list of pros and cons for moving. An obvious choice emerges, and he informs his current landlord that he’ll be gone at the end of the month.

The first time around, Amir flounders and flails. But the second time he faces indecision, armed with hindsight and a new sense of self-awareness, he rises to the occasion.

There are other ways to highlight growth, but I find amplifiers to be effective because of their universal nature. Readers are familiar with indecision. They’ve all struggled with it to varying degrees at multiple times in their lives. They know the intensely uncomfortable feelings associated with facing a difficult decision, and they know the fallout that occurs when an important choice is put off—or when the wrong choice is made. Readers will feel for Amir because they’ve been in his shoes.

But amplifiers work even when they’re unfamiliar. Readers don’t have to experience addiction or compulsion to empathize with a character who’s enduring them. They’ll see the pattern of dysfunctional reactions, how they create conflict and push the character’s goals out of reach, and they’ll notice the shift in mindset and responses that signal change for the better.

So when you need to show a character’s growth, consider employing an amplifier. And as the character evolves, use the growth markers above to highlight their forward progress.

The Emotion Amplifier Thesaurus will help you:

• Showcase a Character’s Hidden Emotions
• Write Realistic Responses
• Add Tension and Conflict
• Show Character Arc Growth
• Brainstorm High-Stakes Moments

Check out the emotion amplifiers covered in this book!

The post Build These Seven Growth Milestones into Your Character’s Arc appeared first on WRITERS HELPING WRITERS®.

Eleanor Hecks joins us to share seven writing fears common among writers and how they may be holding you back.

Writing is a journey filled with challenges, many of which stem from internal fears that can stifle creativity and hinder progress. Recognizing and addressing these fears is crucial for writers and educators aiming to foster a productive writing environment. Here are several common writing fears and strategies to overcome them.

1.   Fear of Failure

Writers worry their work won’t be good enough, that publishers will reject them or that readers will criticize their ideas. This fear often leads to self-doubt and procrastination, making starting or completing projects difficult.

Tip: The key to overcoming this fear is reframing failure as a learning experience rather than a final verdict. Every rejected manuscript, critical review or abandoned draft is an opportunity to refine your skills. Seeking constructive feedback from trusted peers and mentors can help you improve and build resilience.

2.   Fear of Inadequacy

Writers often struggle with imposter syndrome — the nagging fear that they aren’t truly skilled or deserving of success — but this phenomenon isn’t exclusive to writers. Over 80% of people experience imposter syndrome at some point. For writers, this can manifest as hesitancy to submit work, reluctance to call themselves “real” writers or constant comparison to more established authors.

Tip: One of the best ways to counteract this fear is through continuous learning. Attending workshops, reading widely and writing regularly can build confidence and reinforce skill improvement with practice. Every writer — no matter how experienced — starts as a beginner. Acknowledging your progress over time can help shift your mindset from insecurity to self-assurance.

3.   Fear of Judgment

Writing is an intensely personal endeavor, and sharing your thoughts with the world can be intimidating. Whether it’s fear of criticism, misunderstanding or personal exposure, worrying about how others will react can hold writers back from sharing their work.

Tip: One way to counteract this fear is by embracing the reality that no piece of writing will resonate with everyone. Some readers will love your work, while others may not connect with it. The most successful writers focus on their message rather than trying to please everyone.

4.   Fear of Financial Instability

One of the most pressing concerns for writers is whether they can make a living from their craft. The financial pressure to support oneself or a family can be overwhelming. Even just owning a home costs an average of more than $500,000, while raising one child to adulthood costs more than $233,000 on average — numbers which many believe a writing career can’t begin to support. Writers may fear that pursuing their passion won’t provide reliable income to support their families or themselves, leading them to abandon their creative aspirations.

Tip: To mitigate this fear, setting realistic financial goals and budgeting wisely can help manage expenses. Many successful writers balance their craft with other income streams, such as teaching positions, editing jobs or speaking engagements. Establishing a financial cushion can provide peace of mind, allowing you to focus on writing without constant monetary stress.

5.   Fear of the Blank Page

Staring at a blank page can feel like standing at the edge of an abyss. The pressure to produce something meaningful can be paralyzing, leading to writer’s block and avoidance.

Tip: Breaking the task into smaller steps can help. Instead of aiming for a perfect draft, focus on getting words on the page. Freewriting, setting timers and outlining can ease the pressure and make the process more manageable. Developing a daily writing habit — even just a few sentences — can also help overcome the inertia of starting a new project.

6.   Fear of Wasted Time

Many writers worry that the hours spent writing will be for nothing if their work isn’t published or recognized. This fear can make it difficult to invest time in writing, leading to stalled projects and unfulfilled ambitions.

Tip: One strategy to help you overcome this fear is shifting your perspective on what makes writing valuable. Writing is not just about publication — it’s about growth, self-expression and mastery of a craft. Even if a particular piece doesn’t gain external recognition, it contributes to your writing development. Setting achievable goals and celebrating progress — rather than just outcomes — can help maintain motivation.

7.   Fear of Success

Some writers fear what comes after success. The pressure to replicate a well-received work, meet reader expectations or handle increased scrutiny can feel overwhelming. Success often brings new challenges, including higher stakes, deadlines and public attention.

Tip: To navigate this fear, focus on what success means to you personally. Rather than being driven by external markers, define your own creative goals. Surround yourself with a supportive network of fellow writers, mentors and loved ones who help keep you grounded. Accept that growth is a continuous journey, and success is simply another step along the way.

Embracing Courage in Writing

Acknowledging and confronting these fears is a vital part of the writing journey. Remember, courage is not the absence of fear but the determination to forge ahead despite it. Writing is a growth process, and every challenge overcome is a step toward mastering your craft.

Eleanor Hecks is editor-in-chief at Designerly Magazine and a freelance writer passionate about helping other writers of all genres grow their following and community. You can find her work featured in publications such as IndependentPublishing.com and Self-Publishing Review, or connect with her on LinkedIn to keep up with her latest work.

The post Seven Writing Fears That May Be Holding You Back from Greatness appeared first on WRITERS HELPING WRITERS®.

What secret is your character keeping? Why are they safeguarding it? What’s at stake if it’s discovered? Does it need to come out at some point, or should it remain hidden?

This is some of the important information you need to know about your character’s secrets—and they will have secrets, because everyone does. They’re thorny little time bombs composed of fear, deceit, stress, and conflict that, when detonated, threaten to destroy everything the character holds dear.

So, of course, you should assemble them. And we can’t wait to help.

This thesaurus provides brainstorming fodder for a host of secrets that could plague your character. Use it to explore possible secrets, their underlying causes, how they might play into the overall story, and how to realistically write a character who is hiding them—all while establishing reader empathy and interest.

For instance, let’s see what it might look like if your character…

Is Hiding the Truth about their Family

ABOUT THIS SECRET: Families can be the source of many dark secrets: criminal activity (drugs, trafficking, terrorism), a cover-up, incest or abuse, nefarious ancestors, or something else. A character with these kinds of skeletons in the closet might feel obliged to keep them secret to protect the family name, avoid prosecution, achieve certain goals, or keep loved ones safe.

SPECIFIC FEARS THAT MAY DRIVE THE NEED FOR SECRECY: Becoming What One Hates, Being Attacked, Being Judged, Being Labeled, Being Returned to an Abusive Environment, Being Separated from Loved Ones, Being Unable to Achieve a Dream, Being Unsafe, Being Watched, Betrayal, Conditional Love, Humiliation, Isolation, Letting Others Down, Losing Autonomy, Losing One’s Social Standing, Losing the Respect of Others, Not Being Believed, Persecution, Rejection, Repeating a Cycle of Abuse

HOW THIS SECRET COULD HOLD THE CHARACTER BACK
Taking on the sins of the family as their own and being burdened with guilt and shame
Struggling with internal dissonance because they want to protect the family but they also want to be honest
Isolating themselves to avoid humiliation
Feeling like they can’t trust anyone

BEHAVIORS OR HABITS THAT HELP HIDE THIS SECRET
Lying about the family business
Pretending a particular relative is dead or lives far away
Misdirecting people who wander too close to the truth
Constantly monitoring family members who know the truth to be sure they’re keeping things quiet

ACTIVITIES OR TENDENCIES THAT MAY RAISE SUSPICIONS
The family’s activities (or history) making the news
The character becoming agitated when pressed for information about the family
Frequent fights behind closed doors with relatives
Relatives having different stories about the family’s history or certain events

SITUATIONS THAT MAKE KEEPING THIS SECRET A CHALLENGE 
Having to attend a family gathering
A love interest wanting to meet the character’s family
A journalist becoming interested in the family
Incriminating evidence being aired

Other Secret Thesaurus entries can be found here.

Need More Descriptive Help?

While this thesaurus is still being developed, the rest of our descriptive collection (18 unique thesauri and growing) is accessible through the One Stop for Writers THESAURUS database.

If you like, swing by and check out the video walkthrough for this site, then give our Free Trial a spin.

The post Character Secret Thesaurus: Hiding the Truth about Family appeared first on WRITERS HELPING WRITERS®.

By Savannah Cordova

Stop me if you’ve heard this one: you’re at your desk, laptop or notebook open, hours stretching out before you… but you can’t seem to get the words down. You feel stuck, hopeless, and incapable of moving forward; in other words, you’ve got writer’s block.

Luckily, there are countless methods out there to combat this condition — and one of the best ways is to use writing prompts. As a judge for Reedsy Prompts, a weekly prompts-based competition, I’ve seen firsthand how our prompts have inspired hundreds of thousands of writers around the world — how they can spark creativity and get you out of even the worst of slumps!

On that note, this post will explore how you can use prompts to push through your slump and help you get back into the flow of writing.

First Off: What Causes Writer’s Block?

Before we dive into the prompt stuff, it may help to identify the root cause of your own writer’s block. That way, you’ll know exactly how to adjust your mindset — and select the right prompts — to defeat it! Here are some reasons why you might be struggling:

You’re obsessed with perfection.

As a perfectionist myself, I understand how the desire to create something flawless can become a huge roadblock. I often fixate on the tiniest details, ending up in an infinite cycle of editing and rewriting. If you also identify as a perfectionist, you’ve probably experienced moments of doubt and creative paralysis — and you’ll need some fun, even silly writing prompts to help you loosen up and move forward!

You can’t focus.

One of the more mundane causes of writer’s block — and another one I’ve experienced myself — is simply the inability to focus. Particularly when you hit a less interesting part of your writing (often called the “muddy middle”), you’ll find it much easier to get distracted. In this situation, you need a prompt that doesn’t take you away from your story, but instead feeds back into it; for example, you could look at some character questions or worldbuilding prompts to reignite your interest and re-focus on your story.

You lack inspiration.

Lastly, if you don’t have clear direction or motivation, you’ll inevitably come to a standstill as you write. Experiencing this kind of creative drought is beyond frustrating, and you might even feel like giving up — in which case you’ll need a Hail-Mary prompt, something so irresistible that it gives you a whole new catalyst to create!

With all that in mind, let’s look at four types of prompts and why these types are so useful for providing inspiration and “unsticking” writer’s block.

1. Conflict prompts

Getting into these key categories, “conflict” prompts are — as one would expect — prompts that introduce a challenge or problem for your characters to navigate. Whether the conflict is internal (“Center your story around someone facing their biggest fear”) or external (“An apologetic letter or email from an old flame suddenly arrives — many years too late”), this can really help you consider how your character(s) would respond and grow when faced with a tricky situation.

Perfect for: Writers who are stuck on “what should happen next?” in their plots.

2. Setting prompts

These prompts focus on a particular environment or place — bonus points if you choose a type of setting you’ve never written about before! Some prompts of this ilk include: “Write a story set in a world of darkness where light is suddenly discovered” or “Set your story in a place where the weather never changes.” As you can gather, setting prompts don’t have to focus on location alone; they can also give you the building blocks of a dystopian world, for example, or a place where a setting’s physical elements are uncontrollable.

Perfect for: Writers who want to start something brand-new, particularly with different genre conventions. (For example, if you’re blocked on a literary fiction project, try a setting prompt — and then challenge yourself to write a sci-fi or fantasy story!)

3. Dialogue prompts

Dialogue prompts give writers a straightforward starting point, yet at the same time, allow them to go in basically any direction they’d like. Prompts like “Start or end your story with a character asking a question” or “Write a story that includes the line, ‘Is nobody going to say it?’” are great conversation starters to show not just characters’ emotions, but also their values, desires, and even their fears.

Perfect for: Writers who need to reveal something about their characters, but aren’t sure how to do it organically.

4. Genre-specific prompts

Lastly, genre prompts are incredibly useful for anyone who wants to explore the signature themes, tropes, and styles of a given genre. Mystery, thriller, dark fantasy, romance… there are so many out there! Trying out a prompt like “Write a story where the laws of time and space begin to dissolve” or “Write a story about two characters who like each other, but don’t get a happily ever after” might even lead you to discover a love for a genre you never knew before.

Perfect for: Writers looking to sharpen their skills in a specific genre, whether that’s their “typical” genre or not!

If none of these speak to you, you can always browse our full archive of 2,000+ prompts — with plenty more filters — from past Reedsy Prompts contests.

3 More Tips for Using Prompts Effectively

There aren’t any set rules when it comes to incorporating writing prompts into your routine; indeed, if you’re trying to tackle writer’s block, you should do whatever it takes! However, if you’d like some final bits of advice — particularly if you haven’t worked much with prompts before, and feel apprehensive about it — read on.

Start small.

When trying something new, it’s almost always best to ease into it; this helps reduce the pressure and bolster your motivation to continue. In that vein, start by dedicating just a few minutes each day to writing prompts, writing on 1-2 simple prompts at a time to avoid feeling overwhelmed. Over time, you’ll be able to take on more complex prompts and extend your writing sessions without breaking a sweat.

Set a timer.

Additionally, to ensure you don’t spend more time on writing prompts than the actual writing you need to do, grab your phone and give yourself only 5-15 minutes per prompt. This is also a great way to stay motivated — instead of wasting precious seconds looking out your window or staring at your ceiling, you’ll feel more compelled to write something — anything!

Keep it free-form.

Remember, no one needs to see what you’ve written besides you, so don’t feel the need to adhere to a certain structure or style. Instead, take this opportunity to experiment with new perspectives, hybrid forms (such as prose poems), punctuation, generic conventions… whatever floats your boat! Just let it all out — this is all about having fun, trying new things, and seeing where your writing takes you.

Finally, don’t forget that writer’s block happens to everyone; the good news is that it’s only temporary. With so many different tools and strategies to defeat writer’s block, you can push past any slow or rough periods and come out feeling even more invigorated than before. You’ve got this — wishing you the best of luck.

Savannah Cordova is a writer with Reedsy, a marketplace that connects authors and publishers with the world’s best editors, designers, and marketers. In her spare time, Savannah enjoys reading contemporary fiction and writing short stories. You can read more of her professional work on Litreactor and the Reedsy blog.

The post How to Use Writing Prompts to “Unstick” Writer’s Block appeared first on WRITERS HELPING WRITERS®.

Great novels don’t hook readers by accident. They strategically build up tension and feelings, then release them at just the right moment. This perfect timing isn’t about fancy writing tricks; it’s baked into how the story itself is built.

When a story pulls readers through the pages so smoothly they forget all about the clock, it’s not just clever words doing the work—it’s smart structure doing its job. That irresistible “just one more chapter” feeling happens when the story’s building blocks create a natural flow that keeps readers turning pages without even thinking about it.

Stories built on four-act structure (three-act structure minus the oversized, saggy middle) hit those sweet spots consistently. These natural turning points occur at the quarter mark, halfway point, and three-quarter mark, never allowing any section of the story to drag on too long.

Missing these points by a substantial margin results in a misshapen book with sagging or surging momentum. A lumbering, oversized Act 1 bores readers by taking too long to get moving. A missing midpoint creates that notorious bane of three-act story structure, the “mushy middle.” And a mistimed dark moment, one that hits too soon or straggles in too late, can make even a potentially explosive climax fall flat.

Applying story structure to your novel doesn’t imply blind adherence to some lockstep formula. What it suggests is the wisdom of tapping into a storytelling form readers already get—the same ups and downs that have made stories work since people first shared them around the fire.

That pattern shows up everywhere, from novels to movies to symphonies. “It is interesting to note that within the structure of classical music for several centuries known as sonata form, the first act of three was called Exposition, followed by Development and Recapitulation,” notes screenwriter Scott Myers. It’s no accident these sound familiar—they’re the same building blocks of the four-act structure we recognize in novels.

Act 1: Exposition As the story opens, readers discover the character’s situation and witness their internal disunity.

Act 2: Development The character reacts to the story challenge, which puts pressure on their internal issues, beginning the process of deconstruction.

Act 3: Development When their initial efforts don’t pay off, the character pushes for more proactive progress. They may already be reconstructing their internal balance.

Act 4: Recapitulation External forces (plot) and internal forces (character arc) come together to achieve synthesis, unity, and resolution.

The mix of plot and character through these four phases gives your story its momentum. Early on, readers feel they’re on a journey headed somewhere specific. Each act pulls them closer to what they think is the story’s destination. And those turning points between acts? They’re the rocket fuel that launches readers from one part to the next.

Turning Point 1

Between Act 1 and Act 2, about 25% into the story

Turning Point 1 inextricably tangles the protagonist in the story’s web. It’s that big moment when they have to deal with the main story conflict head on, whether they want to or not, as the story ship irrevocably leaves the dock for a specific destination or goal.

How does Turning Point 1 serve readers?  By now, readers have plowed through a good chunk of your book, about 20 to 25 percent. That’s a real investment of time. If your main character is still just poking around the story’s starting situation at this point, readers might decide there’s no real point to your story—and they’ll bail.

Books that suck readers in often hit that first big turning point earlier than the textbook quarter mark, often around 20% in. This gives readers that crucial “I need to know how this turns out” feeling before they have a chance to get bored.

Turning Point 2

Between Act 2 and Act 3, about 50% into the story

Turning Point 2, the midpoint complication, injects a fundamental plot twist that flips your protagonist’s strategy on its head. Whatever they tried in the first half of the book just isn’t cutting it, or something big has changed or come to light—and now they need a new approach. The early plan (the easy way) isn’t working anymore; now your character has to push beyond what they thought would be necessary or what they believe they can handle (the hard way).

How does Turning Point 2 serve readers? Stories can’t feel like a laundry list of “All the Stuff I Gotta Take Care of Before the Inevitable Climax.” The midpoint keeps your story from bogging down in a monotonous slog toward the same old goal.

Turning Point 3

Between Act 3 and Act 4, about 75% into the story

Turning Point 3 pulls all the conflicts together, creating your protagonist’s absolute low point, their “dark night of the soul.” With hope seemingly extinguished and success looking impossible, this moment sets up everything that follows, making the final resolution meaningful instead of simply predictable.

How does Turning Point 3 serve readers? This rock-bottom moment gives your character somewhere to push off from as they rally for the climax. For readers, it cranks up the suspense. Can your protagonist really pull this off? How? This turning point hits readers with that emotional gut-punch showing exactly what will be lost if your character gives up now. It turns readers from spectators into allies, cheering your protagonist on: Get back in there. Find your guts. Stand up and fight for what matters.

Irresistible Momentum

These turning points aren’t random checkboxes in some rigid formula—they’re powerful currents that pull stories forward. Each one catapults your story into its next phase with fresh energy and urgency. This natural momentum keeps reading turning pages late into the night, whispering “just one more chapter” despite their 6 a.m. alarm.

That’s the power of turning points: They transform your story from words on a page into a voyage readers can’t help but follow all the way to the end.

The post Best Ways to Pace Your Story’s Key Moments appeared first on WRITERS HELPING WRITERS®.

There are a lot of Dos and Don’ts for a story’s first pages. Do introduce the protagonist(s). Do start in medias res. Don’t start with a dream sequence. Don’t info dump.

These techniques are important because they accomplish one of the main purposes of your opening: they encourage reader connection. And that’s key because if the reader doesn’t make that connection in the first few pages, they likely won’t read on to chapter two or ten or The End.

Because of the first page critique contests I do, I have a lot to say about story openings—what works and what doesn’t. And today I’d like to share some story elements you can include in your first pages that will pull readers in, along with some opening-page examples from fiction that show this in action. You don’t want to include them all, but if you can add even one, you’ll increase your chances of hooking readers right away so they become invested in your story.

1. Characterization

We know readers connect primarily with characters. When you can start characterizing right away—showing readers how the protagonist is likable or relatable, their defining traits, where they’re vulnerable—the connection is forged.

In the following example from a classic, we learn quite a lot about one of the main characters in the very first paragraph. This is an older book, published before show-don’t-tell became a cornerstone writing technique. Even so, we begin to form a picture of this character—her personality traits and a few physical features—that starts the process of us getting to know them.

In Fort Repose, a river town in Central Florida, it was said that sending a message by Western Union was the same as broadcasting it over the combined networks. This was not entirely true. It was true that Florence Wechek, the manager, gossiped, yet she judiciously classified the personal intelligence that flowed under her plump fingers and maintained a prudent censorship over her tongue. The scandalous and the embarrassing she excised from her conversation. Sprightly, trivial, and harmless items, she passed onto friends, thus enhancing her status and relieving the tedium of spinsterhood. If your sister was in trouble and wired for money, the secret was safe with Florence Wechek. But if your sister bore a legitimate baby, it’s sex and weight would soon be known all over town.

~Alas Babylon

Tools to help you build relatable, vulnerable, and well-rounded characters: The Positive Trait Thesaurus, The Negative Trait Thesaurus, and One Stop for Writer’s Character Builder.

2. What’s Missing?

If your character’s navigating a change arc, there will be something wrong or missing in their life from the get-go. This is important for readers to see early on, because it plays into those vulnerability and relatability pieces. We’ve all been there. We all have things in life we wish were different, or we feel stuck in some way. If you can hint early on at something missing for the character (their inner motivation), readers will empathize with them and immediately want that void to be filled.

It is my first morning of high school. I have seven new notebooks, a skirt I hate, and a stomachache.

The school bus wheezes to my corner. The door opens and I step up. I am the first pickup of the day. The driver pulls away from the curb while I stand in the aisle. Where to sit? I’ve never been a backseat wastecase. If I sit in the middle, a stranger, could sit next to me. If I sit in the front, it will make me look like a little kid, but I figure it’s the best chance I have to make eye contact with one of my friends, if any of them have decided to talk to me yet.

The bus picks up students in groups of four or five. As they walk the aisle, people who were my middle-school lab partners or gym buddies glare at me. I close my eyes. This is what I’ve been dreading. As we leave the last stop, I am the only person sitting alone.

~Speak

Most of us could empathize with this character simply because it’s the first day of school, and we recognize the associated nerves and angst. But in these opening paragraphs, we learn that this character has lost all her friends. She is utterly alone. There’s a lot we don’t know about her situation, but at the very least, we know that for her to find fulfillment, she’ll somehow have to reconnect with others.

3. The Story Goal

In a story with a change arc, the character’s overall goal (their outer motivation) is often (subconsciously) chosen because it’s going to meet their internal lack. Getting into Harvard Law and becoming a lawyer will help her get the boy (Legally Blonde). Catching the serial killer will help the quadriplegic ex-detective once again fine purpose in his life (The Bone Collector).

It’s not always possible to include the goal on the very first page, but if you can pull it off, do it. Then, readers will know straight away what has to happen for the character to succeed, and they’ll know what to root for.

Blue Sargent had forgotten how many times she’d been told that she would kill her true love.

~The Raven Boys

Here, we see in just one sentence what Blue’s story goal will be: she’ll have to somehow subvert the curse to find true love. There’s so much more to her situation, but this is all that’s needed to create a killer opening line that pulls readers in.

Tools for understanding character arc, inner motivation, and outer motivation: The Emotional Wound Thesaurus and One Stop’s Story Maps.

4. Foreshadowing and Conflict

When we see a character in conflict, we feel for them. We know how it feels to be in conflict, whether the conflict creates awkwardness and discomfort or impending pain and death. Including conflict in the opening pages is a good way to tweak the readers emotions and get them firmly on the character’s side.

When possible, we want it to tie directly to the main conflict or storyline. In other words, it’s not random. Let readers see a small piece of the character’s overall struggle that will plague them throughout the story.

Foreshadowing is a great way of enticing readers with future conflict, or the promise of it.

“We should start back,” Gared urged as the woods began to grow dark around them. “The wildlings are dead.”

“Do the dead frighten you?” Ser Waymar Royce asked with just a hint of a smile.

“We have a long ride before us,” Gared pointed out. “Eight days, maybe nine. And night is falling.”

Will could see the tightness around Gared’s mouth, the barely suppressed anger in his eyes under the thick black hood of his cloak. Gared had spent forty years in the watch, man and boy, and he was not accustomed to being made light of. Yet it was more than that. Under the wounded pride, Will can sense something else in the older man. You could taste it; a nervous tension that came perilous close to fear.

Will shared his unease. He was a veteran of a hundred rangings by now, and the endless dark wilderness that the southron called the haunted forest had no more terrors for him.

Until tonight. Something was different tonight.

~A Game of Thrones

Tools for writing conflict: The Conflict Thesaurus, Volumes One and Two

5. Questions

One of the best ways to keep readers reading is to create intrigue. Raise questions that will only be answered if they keep going. In the first pages I critique, I look for at least one question—something that isn’t fully explained that whets my whistle and makes me want to know more.

Pip knew where they lived.

Everyone in Fairview knew where they lived.

Their home was like the town’s haunted house; people’s footsteps quickened as they walked by, and their words strangled and died in their throats. Shrinking children would gather on their walk home from school, daring one another to run up and touch the front gate.

But it wasn’t haunted by ghosts, just three sad people trying to live their lives as before. A house not haunted by flickering lights or spectral falling chairs, but by dark spray-painted letters of “Scum Family” and stone-shattered windows.

~The Good Girl’s Guide to Murder

What happened to this family?
Why do their lives look so different than before? Before what?
Why are the people in town so afraid of them?

Full disclosure: I haven’t read this book. I found it in a stack of library books in my kid’s room when I was paging through first pages, looking for examples. But I’m adding it to my list simply from reading the first four paragraphs and wanting answers to the questions the author raised.

6. An Unusual Character or Authorial Voice

This one is impossible for every story because not every narrator has a stand-out voice. And that’s perfectly fine. But if yours does, get it out there right from the start. This gives readers an immediate feel for the character, and they’ll know they’re in for a treat.

Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood.

If you’re reading this because you think you might be one, my advice is: close this book right now. Believe whatever lie your mom or dad told you about your birth, and try to lead a normal life.

Being a half-blood is dangerous. It’s scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways.

If you’re a normal kid, reading this because you think it’s fiction, great. Read on. I envy you for being able to believe that none of this ever happened.

But if you recognize yourself in these pages­—if you feel something stirring inside—stop reading immediately. You might be one of us. And once you know that, it’s only a matter of time before they sense it too, and they’ll come for you.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

~Percy Jackson and the Olympians

I’ll close with this example because it hits a lot of the points: strong voice, some some characterization, foreshadowing, and questions. It’s a great example of how multiple techniques can be included on the very first page to pique the reader’s interest.

So next time you’re revising your opening, see if your first few pages tick any of these boxes. If not, revise to include one or two of them, and you’ve got a better chance of pulling readers in right from page one.

The post 6 First Page Inclusions for Drawing Readers In appeared first on WRITERS HELPING WRITERS®.

Has an editor or critique partner said, “Your character is flat” when offering feedback on your story? Or perhaps they worded it another way: “Your protagonist didn’t grab me,” or “This character needs more depth.”

However it’s phrased, being told we’ve missed the mark on a character is a bit of a gut punch. But it’s okay. Flat characters, like anything else, can be fixed.  

A flat character is one-dimensional, lacking the depth and human complexity required to feel true to life. Not only do they seem unrealistic, they also fail to capture a reader’s curiosity or interest.

Flat characters can be written as such on purpose: a surly shopkeeper unwilling to bargain on price or the nosy neighbor trying to unearth your protagonist’s secrets. These types of characters have a small role or specific function (comic relief, mentorship, etc.) and don’t need a lot of depth.

But if an important character is seen as
shallow or boring…we have a big problem.

Characters are the heart of a story. For readers to care about them, they must feel like real people. Distinct personalities, belief systems, emotions, and histories shape them and their behavior. Personal needs, desires, struggles, and worldviews give them depth. All this, and a capacity for growth, is the magic recipe that will draw a reader in. 

What Causes a Flat Character?

Characters can feel underdeveloped for many reasons, but it often comes down to one thing: something essential about them has been overlooked. Some common offenders:

Shallow Backstory

A character’s past influences who they become, how they behave, and how they view the world around them. If a character’s backstory is missing, weak, or generic, their behavior may lack credibility or be inconsistent.

The Cure: Go deeper. Explore their past, including their emotional wounds, experiences, life lessons, fears, and insecurities.

Tools to Fix Backstory Issues: The Emotional Wound Thesaurus and One Stop for Writers’ Character Builder Tool.

A Too-Basic Personality

A character’s personality should contain specific traits that emerge because of their history/upbringing, the people who influenced them, and formative their life experiences, both good and bad. When writers gloss over the building out of a unique personality, they tend to give character ‘typical’ traits and so they come across as generic and unrealistic.

The Cure: People are complex, and characters will be, too. Spend time thinking about who your character is and why, and the traits most likely to appear in their personality. Be sure to also understand how negative experiences lead to personality flaws (and the behaviors and tendencies that go with them). Each character should have a mix of traits as no one is ever all good or bad.  

Tools to Fix Personality Issues: The Positive Trait Thesaurus, The Negative Trait Thesaurus, and One Stop for Writers’ Character Builder Tool.

Over-Reliance on Character Tropes or Stereotypes

Due to their familiarity, using character tropes (e.g., the villain, reluctant hero, or absent-minded friend) can fast-track the reader’s understanding of a character’s role. But leaning on one too hard turns them into a stereotype or cliché, which is a huge turnoff.

The Cure: Use any trope generalizations as a starting point only. Do the work and make each character someone fresh. Readers loved to be surprised by interesting and meaningful qualities that elevate the character in ways they didn’t expect.

Tools to Help Fix Overused Character Types: The Character Trope and Type Thesaurus or One Stop for Writers’ Character Builder Tool.

Tunnel Vision

Characters who are only about one thing—the mission or goal, proving loyalty, success, etc.—come across as one-dimensional and unrealistic. For readers to connect with characters, they need to have relatable life layers. Relationships and social interactions. Dreams and desires. Responsibilities. Quirks, interests, problems.

The Cure: Real people can get obsessive about certain things, but they have other things going on. To give your character a better balance, imagine their entire life, not just the plot of your story. Explore how your character’s professional life or obsessions may collide with their personal life.

Tools to Help You Create Dynamic Characters: One Stop for Writers’ Character Builder Tool and The Occupation Thesaurus.

A Lack of Drive

In the real world, it can take time for us to know what we want, but in fiction, characters must be motivated and act. If your protagonist is wishy-washy about what they want or can’t settle on a goal, they’ll come off as weak.

The Cure: Characters who lack urgency when it comes to choosing or achieving a goal need to be put in the hot seat. Raise the stakes. Add conflict and tension. Make it clear that doing nothing leads only to pain and consequences. Additionally, know your character inside and out (#1) because past trauma, fears, and negative interactions will point you to their soft spots and unmet needs.

Tools to Fix Unmotivated Characters: The Emotional Wound Thesaurus, The Conflict Thesaurus Volume 1, Volume 2, and The Emotion Amplifier Thesaurus.

Distanced Emotions

Showing a character’s emotion, even when they’re trying to hide what they feel, is one of the most important tasks a writer has. Emotions are central to the human experience, and readers expect a front-row seat to whatever the character is feeling. When someone is closed off or seems imperviable to vulnerability, readers find it unrealistic.

The Cure: Become an expert at showing your character’s emotions, even when they try to hide what they feel from others. Readers must always be in the loop to empathize and feel invested. Understand how each individual will express emotion in their own way based on their personality, comfort zone, and backstory.

Tools to Help You Show Authentic Character Emotion: The Emotion Thesaurus, The Emotion Amplifier Thesaurus, and The Emotional Wound Thesaurus.

Inadequate Internal Conflict

A well-developed character should have inner struggles, doubts, conflicting needs, fears, and insecurities, all of which make certain actions and decisions agonizing for them. If a writer doesn’t know a character well enough, their struggles will seem generic and readers will feel disconnected from their struggles.

The Cure: Understand your character inside and out, especially backstory and unresolved wounds that haunt them (#1). Know their life, their stresses, their pain, and how loyalty, expectations, or beliefs may tear at them so you can show powerful, meaningful inner conflict. Use psychology in fiction to show inner turmoil in ways readers recognize as they’ve experienced the same tendencies themselves.  

Tools to Help You Show Internal Conflict and Psychological Processes: The Emotional Wound Thesaurus, The Conflict Thesaurus, Volume 1, and The Emotion Amplifier Thesaurus.

Little to No Growth or Change  

In any story, characters will face challenges—often life-changing ones. Even in a flat arc, where the protagonist remains steadfast in their beliefs, they should still learn, adapt, and navigate obstacles in a way that feels authentic. Primary characters who respond to every problem the same way, repeat mistakes without growth, or remain rigid in their viewpoints can feel unrealistic and unconvincing to readers.

The Cure: All roads lead back to characterization. Go deeper. Get to know your character, and why they think, act, and behave as they do. Choose specific conflict scenarios that force them to confront misconceptions and fears that lead to change and growth.

Tools to Help You Write About Change and Growth: For growth journeys and the path of change, try The Emotional Wound Thesaurus. The Conflict Thesaurus Volumes 1 and Volume 2 are packed with help to craft powerful conflict that will strengthen and support character arc. The Character Builder Tool will take all your character-building information and create a character arc blueprint for you.

You can fix a flat character. It’s worth the effort because once readers bind themselves emotionally to a character, they’re hooked. If you’re lucky, they’ll enjoy your characters so much they’ll seek out your next book, too!

READ NEXT: How to Write a Protagonist with True Depth

The post How to Avoid Flat Characters in Your Story appeared first on WRITERS HELPING WRITERS®.

Stakes are a crucial part of your story because they define what will happen if the protagonist fails. To build reader empathy, you need this piece in place because when the reader sees what’s at stake, and they recognize why it matters to the character, the story becomes important. It matters.

Stakes also create tension when the reader realizes what’s on the line. So when the stakes are referenced early on, readers are more likely to be drawn in and root for the character’s success.

But that empathy connection only happens if the reader can see what’s at stake. And that can only happen if the author knows what’s on the line. Sometimes, it’s obvious. What are the consequences if Sheriff Brody doesn’t catch the shark in Jaws? Death and dismemberment. In the original Inside Out, if all of Riley’s emotions aren’t acknowledged and won’t work together, her identity is at risk.

But other times, it’s harder to identify what’s at stake in a story. So I’d like to share a simple method for figuring that out.

Outer Motivation + Inner Motivation = Stakes

All you have to do is figure out a couple of key elements for your story.

First: the protagonist’s goal. This is their overall objective. It’s what they’re hoping to achieve: getting the girl, enacting revenge, catching the criminal, etc. This is also called the Outer Motivation because it’s what the character is visibly working toward; everything he or she does is in pursuit of this objective. In The Lord of the Rings, Frodo’s goal is to destroy the one ring. In An Officer and a Gentleman, the protagonist’s goal is to become a Navy officer. The story goal should be pretty obvious because it’s what your character is actively seeking and pursuing.

But, often, there’s also something internally driving your character toward their goal. This is called the Inner Motivation because its private and is usually related to self-esteem or personal fulfillment. Figuring this out requires some digging into the character’s psyche and their past, but on a basic level, you can simply ask: Why is the goal so important to them?

In An Officer and a Gentleman, why does Zach Mayo want to become a Navy officer? There are lots of possibilities, but the true reason becomes clear when you know his backstory. His mother committed suicide, abandoning him as a ten-year-old. He was sent to live with his father, who was an excellent drinking buddy but not good for much else. And his dad’s military career had them moving all over so he could never put down roots. What Zach craves more than anything is belonging, and becoming a military officer will provide that for him. This is going to meet an internal need that’s missing. Belonging to a group is his inner motivation.

One interesting connection to note:
the inner motivation will often point back to a missing human need.

If you’ve followed Angela and me for long, you’ve likely heard about Maslow’s hierarchy of human needs and how it fits into character arc. The full explanation is here, but to summarize, there are 5 needs that are common to all human beings. If any of these are missing, people become vulnerable, and they’ll take action to fill the void.

Very often, that missing need is the inner motivation.

So, when we’re thinking about how to create meaningful stakes for a character, it’s helpful to zero in on which need is missing or most important to them—and be sure it’s tied to their inner motivation. For Zach, he’s missing love and belonging. He’s chosen a goal that, if he succeeds, will usher him into a ready-made community. So what’s at stake if he fails? Not belonging—continuing to live in isolation, alone.

SIDEBAR: It’s important to note that not every protagonist has an inner motivation. This happens a lot in stories that are plot-driven rather than character-driven: thrillers, action/adventure, etc. Think: Indiana Jones, Lara Croft, and vintage James Bond. Those stories are all about the character achieving the goal rather than them growing and maturing, so that internal piece isn’t necessarily needed. In stories like these, the stakes will be very obvious: the end of the world, someone dying, the Nazis getting the Ark of the Covenant and becoming all-powerful, etc.

Bonus: You Can Start from Anywhere

The cool thing about this method is you don’t have to know all your story elements at once; you can start with the inner or outer motivation to figure out the rest of the pieces.

Example 1: Start with the story goal. You know you’re writing a romance with a protagonist who’s looking for true love. What missing human need will be filled if they succeed (inner motivation/human need)?  What’s at stake if they fail?

Example 2: Start with the human need/internal motivation that’s driving their behavior. You know your character inside and out, so you’ve already identified their wound and the human need that’s been compromised. Let’s say it’s Esteem and Recognition. What story goal might they pursue that would fill that void? What’s at stake if they fail to reach their objective?

And now you know how to figure out what’s at stake for your story. Convey that to readers early on, and you’ll show them why the story matters, making it engaging and difficult to put down.

Additional Stakes Resources:

Make the Stakes Personal
Tips for Raising the Stakes
Use Stakes to Establish Reader Expectations

The post Use This Method to Identify Your Story’s Stakes appeared first on WRITERS HELPING WRITERS®.

A while back, I shared a post at WHW about Scene Writing, and why it’s such a valuable tool for writers (especially those like me, whose brains get easily overwhelmed by details). This post also shares my tricks for keeping a story organized even if you have a disorganized brain or process.

A Word About Writing Process…

Adapt everything you learn to your own unique brain

Like underpants, writing process is personal. You’ll find out what fits YOU the best by trying it on for size. At the end of the day, the only writing process you need to embrace is the one that allows you to finish your stories.

It took me a long time to figure out that I couldn’t write linearly like all my friends. I had to find the process that worked for my brain. My brain needed stories to be in tiny pieces.

My old life:

(That’s the life of creating unfinished stories that taunted me.)

Whenever I’d get stuck, I’d stop. I’d stare at the page, clean my kitchen drawers, come back to the page and stare some more. Sometimes there was crying. Almost always, after a few weeks, I’d berate myself for being a hack, give up and start another story.

My new life:

Now I just pick a new scene and write it and the pantser half of my brain works the problems out. Most important, this method lets me keep writing. That immersion is what keeps most writers engaged with their story.

How does “process” work for a new writer?

The problem for most new writers is they don’t know what works for them yet. There’s a lot of trial and error when you’re new.

You’ll have to ask (and answer) questions like:

• Am I a plotter or a pantser?
• A linear writer, or an out-of-order writer?
• Am I more productive in the morning or at night?
• Do I like to use 3-Act Structure or the W-Plot?

A lot of what you try as a new writer won’t work for you. That’s okay – keep trying things out until you are able to produce a finished story. You might not even love the first story or two, but you’ll still be proud you finished it.

A View of My “Scene-Focused” Process

The abbreviated description of my process is that I’m a Plantser and a Story Quilter. That means I plot a little, I free write a bit, and I piece the story together scene-by-scene.

What does that look like in practice?

1. I start by making a list of all the scenes I know.

Like many writers, each book usually starts with an idea or a scene that comes into my head fully formed. I write that scene to get it out of my head and onto the page. I keep writing until all the initial scenes are out of my head.

Usually, there are between 5-10 scenes that come with the initial idea. When I’m lucky, this list includes some key turning points of the story.

2. I make folders for all those scenes in Scrivener.

That folder list is key for me. It means when I sit down to write, I have a list of places I can go in the story. Sometimes something will come to me all Pantser-like and I make a folder for that one too.

3. I try to brainstorm early.

Near the beginning of the process, I bat some ‘what if’s’ around with my writing peeps and decide on the overriding theme for the book and the internal and external conflicts for the main characters. I might be wrong, but it gives me a place to start.

Note: Scrivener has places for characters and research. For me, they’re part of my at-a-glance folder list over in the left sidebar. I can click on them to add, or when I need a refresher on a character for a scene.

4. Sometimes I get lucky.

During #3 above, sometimes the turning points make themselves known. I’ll often share the story with someone I trust, and ask if they see any major logic holes. If I’m lucky, they find one! Finding logic holes early, before I’ve done a ton of work, makes me way less cranky later in the process.

5. I keep writing until I’m out of scenes.

Sometimes that means I’m actually done with the book, and sometimes that means I have to beg some nice writing friends to do a manuscript swap. This step is usually when I begin the Second Draft work, which means using all those cool plotting and polishing tips that Plotters use on their first draft.

My Top 3 Tips for Getting Unstuck

Despite our best intentions, we all get stuck sometimes. OneStop for Writers is a great place to start when you get stuck. These smaller steps help me, too.

1. Change locations.

Typically, the act of moving to a new writing space can jiggle up some writing inspiration. This can be from your desk to the couch, from inside to outside, or from the library to a favorite restaurant or coffeehouse.

2. Use a digital timer.

I tend to use my cooking timer. When I don’t want to write, my deal with myself is I have to do at least 30 minutes of work on my fiction.

We can do anything for half an hour, right?

While it doesn’t sound like a lot, it really makes a difference. If I’m not digging the writing that day, I know “I only have to do this crap for 30 minutes.” If things are going well, I’m likely to go way longer than 30 minutes.

3. I print a list of all the scenes I know in table form.

This trick requires a printer and scissors, and I’m known to do it when I’m getting to the end of a book. Margie Lawson gave me this brilliant idea, and it works when I have difficult scenes that I don’t want to write. You could also handwrite your to-do list and make a game out of it.

• I print the table of all those scene prompts and cut it up until each scene is on its own slip of paper.
• I find a pretty container and I put all the slips of paper into it.
• Every time I sit down to write those final scenes, I randomly choose one from the container until they’re all gone.

Margie is so smart.

Why Scene-Focused Writing Is a Great Organization Method for Me.

The first major advantage is that I rarely get stuck.

Everything is visible to me at a glance. I just pick a scene from my to-be-written list of scenes (aka: my Scrivener folders/documents) and get writing. Eventually all of them will get written.

Here’s an example

A starting scene list for a made-up romance novel:

• Initial Meeting
• Scene in the Coffee Shop
• Job interview at the clinic
• Reunion with Sister
• Fight about parents’ funeral
• First look at sister’s house
• Discovery of parent’s will in the garage
• Flesh out mom’s mental illness
• Confront sister about secrets

The second major advantage (for me) is that I can see the story structure visually, without getting overwhelmed.

As I write those early scenes and begin seeing the bigger picture, I start making more folders. Every so often in the process, I’ll move those folders around, so they feel more logical.

Scenes and turning points will move into a logical three-act structure, which organically shows me plot holes. I can color code scenes (folders or documents) in Scrivener if I want to make unwritten scenes stand out more, which is great for an at-a-glance to-do list.

In a Word document, I can’t see the structure at a glance, and it stresses me out. I feel like I don’t know where to start or where I’m going. I lose scenes. It’s easy for me to get overwhelmed, and then the writing isn’t so fun anymore.

An example of my Scrivener folder list further in the process:

Act I

• Amanda and Archer meeting in Coffeehouse
• Amanda’s job interview at clinic
• Amanda chats with Unknown character about Disliking Archer
• Day 1 at Clinic WHERE ARCHER WORKS

Act II

• Need a scene with heroine’s BFF – Topic TBD
• Reunion with Sister
• Fight about parents’ funeral
• First look at sister’s house
• Find excuse for social occasion with sister
• Talk with Archer in Clinic Kitchen
• Discovery of parent’s will in the garage
• Flesh out mom’s mental illness
• Date with Archer at pub
• Confront sister about secrets
• All is Lost Moment

Act III

• Ending

Final Thoughts

Whether you’re innately disorganized like me or a detailed plotter, finishing a book is a big task. There are a lot of moving parts to be organized. Scrivener is my tool of choice, but I have friends who do things differently and stay organized.

I’ve seen great books organized all these ways:

• Using a notebook and writing by hand with Post-its and dividers
• Using Word documents with headings or Master/Sub Documents
• Using software like Plottr and ProWritingAid
• Creating folders on the computer and saving each chapter as a document
• Writing the book in a single Word or GoogleDoc file

Figuring out your writing process and how to keep your stories organized are two of the most important things you will ever learn as a writer. I’m wishing you a smooth journey!

The post Book Structure for Disorganized Writers appeared first on WRITERS HELPING WRITERS®.

AI is reshaping the book industry, and writers are polarized; some have integrated AI into their writing process while others refuse to. No matter which camp you align with I’m sure you share a growing concern: creatives are not the only ones publishing books. Thanks to AI tools, anyone with a keyboard can slap something together (sometimes ripping off the original), leading to a surge of AI-generated books.

Oh, but the books are bad. They don’t matter.

Are they all bad? And even if they are, will they remain that way? The hard reality is that it is the nature of AI to improve and refine, and so improve and refine it will. In the meantime, quality books become harder to find because this AI side hustle is picking up steam. Writers are beginning to worry about having to compete with AI-generated books.

So, is the board set against us–should we give up writing? Heck no! Instead, we write better books by leaning into our strengths and harnessing the one thing AI can’t compete with: being human. Here’s how.

1: Write about human experiences

AI absorbs knowledge about people and learns how to write scenes by training itself on works of fiction. But when it comes to the experience of being human, AI can only mimic. So, put your innate understanding of humanity onto the page. Let your own life experiences guide you in showing the rawness of vulnerability, the subtleties of emotion, and the profound depth of human needs in your characters. Be unafraid to go deep inside yourself. What questions keep you up at night? What thoughts and worries about the world weigh you down? Chances are, your readers have similar questions, so make them feel seen by weaving these into your story.

Consider the duality of life. On the surface, people present an ‘everyday’ version of themselves—their jobs, choices, routines, and social interactions. Yet beneath lies a more complex and private being, one who wrestles with questions of identity, purpose, and belonging. Write characters with this same hidden self, complete with unique doubts, fears, and unspoken dreams. Readers will feel drawn to them, and relate because this deeper, human side mirrors their own.

Another reason to double down on human elements in stories? As customer service bots, AI social profiles, generated videos, news, etc. become commonplace, the world starts to feel artificial. People will crave authenticity and you can give it to them.

2: Share your worldview, culture, identity, and lived truth

You are the subject matter expert in your lived experience, not AI, so consider how you can bring something special to a story. Whether it’s a window into your culture or religion, a worldview based on experiences or identity, or something else like a personal hardship, upbringing, or belief, readers recognize the authority behind a true-to-life portrayal.

AI can write generically about these things using information within its datasets, but only humans can capture a lived truth. So write characters and situations that are echoes of your own life. Bring readers in close so they experience things that come from first-hand knowledge.

3: Master your craft in areas best suited to showcase human elements

A misconception (long before AI) among some novice writers was that they didn’t need to learn how to write well because that was an editor’s job. This led to a painful lesson when reputable editors wouldn’t touch their manuscripts or the cost to do so was too high, causing them to seek cheaper options or a vanity press. Either way, the writer ended up with a poor-quality book.

Thankfully most writers understand that writing well means putting in the work. But some do treat AI like it’s a magic genie, and this laziness affects the quality of their stories. So keep learning your craft, especially in areas that help you showcase human elements readers are hardwired to connect to. For example:

1) Voice. Learn all there is to know about developing your author voice and creating authentic voices for your characters. Write characters who reveal their individuality through observations, actions, and decisions. This is where your story can stand out.

2) Description (especially the art of show, not tell). Being able to describe sensory details, use metaphor, symbolism, etc. to imply something deeper, and bring a character’s authentic emotions to the surface will draw readers in and convey authenticity in a way AI writing cannot.

3) Inner Conflict. A character’s personal struggles illustrate the complexity of being human in a powerful way. Sure, AI can rehash common problems, but only humans can draw from their experiences to create relatable internal battles. Learning how to write about internal conflict to accurately show a character’s clash of fears, desires, needs, duties, and beliefs is well worth the investment.

4) Character Arc. Study character arc and what it will specifically look like for a character. What personal epiphanies will help them move past old hurts and break free of fear? How have they been viewing life and themselves wrong? How must they change and grow to achieve a happier, more fulfilling life? What do the steps of self-examination, personal realizations, and renewed self-belief look like for them?

It may seem like a lot of questions, but the answers give you the knowledge you need to write an authentic journey of highs and lows that readers will connect to. Alternatively, you should know what failure, unfulfillment, and unhappiness will look like for a character because people never make good decisions all the time. Fear and making mistakes can chain them to failure, and if they can’t break free of it, you need to be able to show that, too.

5) Psychology. It may not seem like a traditional writing element, but it is. The more you understand how people think, feel, and behave and why, two incredible things happen. First, you’ll create more complex, authentic characters whose actions, choices, and decisions line up with who they are. Second, you’ll see how to weave elements about the character’s life, journey, and inner struggles in a way that resonates, encouraging readers to connect more deeply with the characters and your story.  

If you’ve read any books in our Writers Helping Writers Thesaurus series, you know how much Becca and I focus on psychology and human emotion. This is why. AI will apply psychology too, but not like you and me because it only has clinical knowledge, not personal experience. And that makes a big difference!

4: Shake it up and experiment

AI likes to draw from character tropes, predictable plots, devices, and story patterns, so color outside the lines! Blend genres and story elements. Shatter stereotypes and twist tropes. Be original and bold as you write, and use craft to serve your vision of the story.

5: Embrace one of your greatest human strengths: adaptability

We enter this career path knowing it won’t be easy. But like our characters, we must find a way forward when things get hard. AI-generated books are causing problems for us, yes, but as they get better, so will we. Learning our craft and leveraging our human knowledge and experiences will help us distance ourselves from the generic stories others churn out.

Worried about the future of writing?

Let that go. You can’t control how AI is used but you can adapt how you write to compete with AI-generated books.

Include human elements. Use your story as a mirror to reflect the reader’s hidden self–their hopes and dreams, perspectives and questions. Leverage your humanity to outshine AI!

Remember, readers love to read and great stories will always be in demand!

The post How to Leverage Humanity to Outshine AI-Generated Books appeared first on WRITERS HELPING WRITERS®.

Writing intense scenes can be one of the most exciting parts of storytelling. Whether it’s a gripping fight, a romantic encounter that leaves hearts racing, or an emotional moment that hits readers hard, these scenes pull readers in and keep them hooked. But creating truly intense moments takes more than just throwing in action or dramatic emotions. It’s about pacing, sensory details, and staying true to your character.

Fight Scenes: Keep It Clear and High-Stakes

Fight scenes grab attention because they often mean danger or life-and-death moments. But too much focus on body movements or external conflict can make things feel off. To keep things gripping, focus on what’s at stake and how the characters internally react to the fight. Don’t overcomplicate things with unnecessary details—keep the action clear and immediate.

For example, instead of writing: John lunged forward with a feral scream, his fist flying crashing against Mark’s jaw with the force of a freight train. Blood sprayed like a crimson fountain, painting the air in a ghastly tableau.

Try: John lunged forward, his fist connecting with Mark’s jaw. Mark staggered back, tasting blood. He couldn’t afford to go down—not now.

The second version cuts the fluff and keeps readers focused on the action and its impact. By keeping the description tight and concentrating on the immediate stakes, you can make readers feel every hit and every moment of tension.

Romantic Scenes: Go for Subtlety and Sensory Details

When writing passionate scenes, it’s easy to slip into over-the-top territory. Instead, focus on the connection between characters and use sensory details to make it feel real. A well-written romantic scene doesn’t need to scream its intensity—it should evoke the tension and vulnerability in the moment.

You can show the tension and vulnerability through small gestures and understated emotions.

For example, instead of writing: Their lips met in a fiery explosion of desire, their hearts beating as one in the eternal dance of passion.

Try: She hesitated for a moment, her breath catching as his hand brushed her cheek. When their lips finally met, it was slow, tentative—as if neither was sure whether they were ready for the storm they were about to unleash.

This second version feels more genuine because it builds on the characters’ hesitation and the sensory experience. Readers don’t need grand declarations of passion—they need to feel the connection through small, meaningful details.

Emotional Scenes: Let Tension Build

Emotional moments work best when they’re given time to grow. Jumping straight into high emotions can feel jarring, so it’s important to let the tension simmer. Build up to those big emotional beats by showing small actions, bits of dialogue, and even silences.

For example, instead of writing: “You never loved me!” Sarah screamed, tears streaming down her face like rivers. “I gave you everything, and you threw it all away!”

Try: Sarah stood in the doorway, her hands trembling. “I don’t understand,” she said quietly. “I gave you everything. Was it not enough?”

By letting Sarah’s pain emerge gradually through her quiet words and trembling hands, the scene feels more authentic. Readers can sense the buildup of emotions without being hit over the head with melodrama.

Decision Scenes: Show the Inner Conflict

When characters have to make a tough call, the intensity comes from their internal struggle and the pressure of the situation. To capture this well, use short, sharp sentences and show the character’s thought process without over-explaining their feelings.

For example, instead of writing: David clutched his head, torn between two impossible choices. His mind screamed at him to act, but his heart was frozen in fear. “What do I do? What do I do?” he muttered, over and over.

Try: David stared at the two paths ahead. One meant safety. The other, everything he cared about. His hands clenched into fists. He didn’t have time to think—only to choose.

This version creates tension by focusing on David’s immediate dilemma and keeping the language direct. Readers can feel his urgency without being bogged down by too much internal monologue.

General Strategies for Writing Intense Scenes

Trust your readers to understand the emotions without spelling everything out. Instead of telling them how a character feels, show it through actions, dialogue, and reactions. Use strong verbs to convey action and emotion, and engage the senses to draw readers fully into the scene. Remember, not every moment has to be high-energy. Sometimes, quiet moments of reflection or tension make the intense parts stand out even more.

Intense scenes are all about keeping readers hooked and evoking emotion. Don’t be afraid to dive into the deeper layers of your character—just make sure it feels real and earned. By focusing on pacing, sensory details, and character reactions, you can create scenes that stick with readers long after they finish the story.

The post How to Write Intense Scenes That Captivate Readers appeared first on WRITERS HELPING WRITERS®.

Actions have consequences—that’s what makes a story tick. A story begins when events around a character push them into action. Those actions create new situations, and those situations push the character into even tougher choices. Watching this chain reaction unfold is what keeps readers glued to the pages.

When we call a story “entertaining,” we’re really talking about something deeper: the chance to step into someone else’s experience. We want to understand their choices and see how their decisions mirror our own journey.

We’re not reading strictly to find out what happens, but neither are we reading only to understand why. Instead, we’re fascinated by the ripple effect of how one dynamic feeds the other.

A satisfying story does two things at once. It sweeps us into an absorbing plot while simultaneously easing us into the vicarious experience of a character’s inner transformation. Plot events shape the character’s options, and their choices then create new situations—a self-perpetuating cycle of action and reaction that creates the story.

Are stories plot-based, or are they character-based? The answer is yes.
Story is the synthesis of both. Plot shapes characters, and characters drive plot. Stories draw their power from the interplay between the two.

Here’s how plot and character organically wind together in classic Western storytelling, act by act.

Act 1: Welcome to the Ordinary World

Key Concepts

Act 1: The first quarter of the story

Plot Keywords: status quo, the normal world, the ordinary world

Character Keywords: disunity, inauthenticity

The story opens on a character living in disunity and inauthenticity, although they don’t realize that yet. Something about their life is lacking, internally or externally or both.

The first act introduces the character, builds the story world and its time, place, and rules, and plants the seeds of change. This sets the chain of action and reaction that drives everything to come, creating the plot that the character will spend the rest of the story pursuing and wrestling with.

Act 1: This act is a story about how inauthenticity and disunity arrive in this character’s life.

Turning Point 1 (end of Act 1): This is how the character resolves to fix the problem created by inauthenticity or disunity.

Act 2: The Easy Way Out

Key Concepts

Act 2: The second quarter of the story from 25% to 50%; in three-act structure, this is the first half of Act 2, the part before the midpoint

Plot Keywords: reactive response, the easy way

Character Keywords: deconstruction

The character steps into this quarter of the story ready to tackle their problem, but they’re going about it all wrong. They’re reacting to their new reality without truly understanding it, chasing solutions that look promising but won’t really work. They’re still operating from old patterns and incomplete understanding.

This initial approach begins to crumble as they discover the problem runs deeper than they thought. Their responses slowly deconstruct their familiar worldview, forcing them to question what they believe about themselves and their situation.

Act 2: This act is a story about how the character reactively responds to the problem.

TP2 (end of Act 2—the midpoint): This is the moment the character realizes their reactive response isn’t working. The problem has grown more complex than they imagined, their old worldviews are deconstructing piece by piece, and they must find a new path forward.

Act 3: The Hard Road

Key Concepts

Act 3: The third quarter of the story from 50% to 75%; in three-act structure, this is the second half of Act 2, the part after the midpoint

Plot Keywords: proactive progress, the hard way

Character Keywords: reconstruction

The character enters this act with a new understanding: It’s time to stop reacting and time to start acting. They begin approaching their problem head-on, using newfound tools or information or wisdom, but success doesn’t come easily. The obstacles they face grow to match their increasing capacity.

As they make proactive progress toward their goal, they gradually reconstruct a new worldview to replace what was torn down. But this reconstruction comes at a cost—each step forward requires more from them than the last.

Act 3: This act is a story about how the character makes proactive progress toward solving their problem.

TP3 (end of Act 3): This is the moment when the character’s proactive approach seems to fail despite everything they’ve learned. Though they’ve been reconstructing a stronger sense of self, they hit what appears to be an insurmountable obstacle or dead end.

Act 4: Bringing It All Together

Key Concepts

Act 4: The final quarter of the story, from 75% to the end

Plot Keywords: final push, climax, resolution

Character Keywords: synthesis, unity, authenticity

This is where all threads converge. The character faces their goal and whatever stands in their way, and now they’re armed with something new: authenticity. The climactic breakthrough isn’t just about solving the external problem—it’s about achieving unity between who they are and who they need to be.

Act 4: This act is a story about how the character achieves synthesis, finding their authentic self and moving forward with a new sense of unity.

Climax: This is the moment when the character’s newfound authenticity or unity enables them to solve their problem in a way that would have been impossible before their transformation.

Finding Your Story’s Flow

Each story finds its own rhythm within the cycle of these four acts. Stray too far from their natural flow, though, and the story loses its power. A weak setup leaves readers adrift; without real struggle, victory rings false.

What matters isn’t following a rigid structure but creating a transformative journey. Readers come to witness your character’s evolution from disunity to unity—this is what lingers in their minds long after the final page.

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