21.44: Why Are You Stopping? You’re Almost There! Very often, writers get to the two-third or three-quarter mark of work and get stuck, sometimes abandoning it to move on to something shinier. Why does this happen? Well, it’’s a place at which we move from raising questions for the reader to needing to answer them. This change in mode requires a different set of tools than the beginning of a story, while needing to appear part of a seamless whole. Let’s dive into how you can do this! Homework: Outline the second half of your novel (or revise the outline you already have). Then find two or three questions your story asked in the first half, and come up with two different ways you could answer each one. Credits: Your hosts for this episode were Mary Robinette Kowal, DongWon Song, Erin Roberts, and Howard Tayler. It was produced by Emma Reynolds, recorded by Marshall Carr, Jr., and mastered by Alex Jackson. Powered by RedCircle https://writingexcuses.com/21-44-why-are-you-stopping-youre-almost-there/ #erinroberts #howardtayler #robinettekowal #alexjackson #emmareynolds #marshallcarr #outline #maryrobinette #song #dongwonsong #rss #feeds #linksharing #qwibbit

5 Tips for Writing Subplots That Strengthen Your Main Plot Imagine you walk into a candy shop, but what you discover inside isn’t candy but rather display after display of subplots. Enough to make any writer’s mouth water, right? Writers love the idea of subplots. They’re rich, juicy, complex, and full of opportunities for taking your story to the next level. But figuring out how to write subplots that genuinely strengthen the larger story can be trickier. Where should those secondary plotlines come from? How do you know which subplots belong? And, most importantly, how do you weave subplots into the main plot and theme so seamlessly that readers experience one cohesive story rather than a collection of competing threads? I’m often asked about subplots, but it’s one of those subjects that is bigger than just a simple answer. This is because subplots, when done particularly well, are often all but camouflaged within the larger story. Good subplots integrate with the main plot to the point they’re inextricable from the story’s bigger picture. In short: you can’t master the art of organizing subplots without mastering the art of plotting itself. Structuring Your Novel: Revised and Expanded 2nd Edition (Amazon affiliate link) For that, of course, you need story structure, character arc, and theme as the cornerstones of your story’s strong foundation. But today, let’s assume you’ve already packed your cart with your nourishing vegetables, which leaves you free to fulfill your sweet tooth by raiding Ye Olde Subplot Shoppe. What Is a Subplot? A subplot is a secondary narrative thread that supports the main story by complicating its conflict, deepening its characters, developing its relationships, or reflecting its theme. “Subplot” can be something of a bucket term for secondary storylines, and writers sometimes use it loosely even for threads that might more precisely be considered co-equal plotlines within a multiple-plotline story. >>Click here to read more about structuring multiple plotlines. In order to understand what qualifies as a subplot, it can be helpful to first think about what we would define as the “main plot.” From the perspective of plot structure, I would define the main plot as the story “spine” consistently represented at all major turning points (First Plot Point, Midpoint, Climax, etc.). This will interlock with the protagonist’s character arc, which is what, in turn, creates thematic alignment between plot and character. For Example: In Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, the main structural throughline follows Harry’s growing involvement in the mystery of Sirius Black: first believing Sirius escaped from Azkaban Prison to kill him, then seeking to confront him, and finally discovering the truth and choosing to save him. This external throughline interlocks with Harry’s internal struggle with fear, grief, and anger regarding his parents’ legacy. Meanwhile, threads such as Buckbeak’s impending execution and Hermione’s mysterious schedule can be traced separately for much of the story, even though both eventually intersect with and affect that central plot. Therefore, a subplot is a distinct secondary storyline that can be traced separately from the main structural throughline, even though—if it is doing its job well—it will ultimately intersect with and affect that larger plot. This differs somewhat from multiple plotlines, in which what are essentially two entirely separate structural plots run side by side (either following characters who interact with each other periodically or, sometimes, characters who never meet until the end of the story—as in Game of Thrones, in which Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen—among others—follow their own plotlines for most of the story before finally becoming either enemies or allies in a final conflict). Here, because the two plotlines are so distinct for most of the story, we don’t necessarily see one as subordinate to the other. However, whether “Story B” is a subplot or a second independent plotline, what always remains important is how they eventually structurally impact and/or thematically inform one another. The Major Pitfall to Be Aware of When Writing Subplots Confession time. I actually don’t even like talking about subplots. Whenever someone asks me “how do I write subplots?”, it makes me incredibly squirmy. Although subplots are, of course, a beloved part of storytelling, I’ve always rather felt they aren’t really the best way to think about structuring a story. When I sit down to plot a novel, I never think in terms of subplots. I love stories that are huge, sprawling, complex, and peopled with big casts. Do they have subplots? Of course. But I don’t think of them that way. I don’t want subplots in my stories. I don’t want to hand readers a jumbled box full of really cool odds and ends. Instead, I want to give them one big cohesive plot that sparkles like a multi-faceted diamond because everything from the plot’s structural throughline to the minor characters to the thematic integrity feels cohesive and resonant. If you find yourself thumbing through your manuscript and going, “Subplot, subplot, subplot!,” it can sometimes be because the subplots are sticking out like speed bumps on the highway. Even in instances when it may feel like the subplot is inextricable from the main plot, sometimes the very fact that it’s an acknowledged subplot can indicate it hasn’t yet been integrated seamlessly enough into the main plot. Which is all to say: yes, today, we’re talking subplots, and, yes, I’m about to break this all down for you to show you what subplots are and how you can manage them. But the most important thing you can take away is that if it looks like a subplot, it may be a sign it is not well enough integrated into the main plot and theme. The 3 Types of Central Plotlines in a Story Before we can talk about what a subplot is, we first have to talk about what it isn’t. By definition, a subplot is not the main plot, which means we first need to understand what constitutes the main plot. In most fully-formed stories, there are three aspects to the main plot. 1. The External Conflict When we talk about “plot,” this is probably the first thing to spring to mind. The external conflict is the physical aspect of the conflict. It revolves around a specific plot goal based on the Thing the Character Wants. Characters are trying to do something or gain something, and an antagonistic force keeps putting obstacles in the way. The protagonist overcoming those obstacles creates the forward momentum that drives the plot, all the way from the original conception of the plot goal at the First Plot Point to the Climactic Moment, where the protagonist either definitively gains or loses that objective. For Example: The main external throughline in Prisoner of Azkaban centers around the apparent threat of escaped prisoner Sirius Black. Harry begins by believing Sirius is a murderer who is hunting him. As Harry learns more, his goal evolves from surviving the threat to confronting Sirius—and then, once he discovers the truth, to saving him. The specifics of the goal change, but the same central conflict surrounding Sirius carries the story all the way into the Climax. 2. The Main Relationship External conflict is great: it powers the story. But it’s rarely enough to truly engage readers on a deeper level. For that, you need the polarity and emotional stakes of a relationship. This could be a romance, a friendship, a business partnership, or a parent/child relationship. It can also be the projection of the protagonist’s self upon the outer world in some way (such as in the obvious example of Wilson the volleyball in Castaway or the more subtle example of Carl’s house in Up, which becomes an externalized embodiment of his relationship with his deceased wife Ellie and his attachment to the life they shared). Whatever it is, this relational dynamic directly connects to the main conflict. Either: The relationship’s positive outcome hinges upon a positive outcome in the external conflict. The relationship creates the conflict. The conflict creates the relationship. Whatever the case, the protagonist will also have a goal in this relationship, even if it is largely unspoken. Usually, it is simply for “the relationship to work out.” For Example: Although Prisoner of Azkaban initially presents Sirius as the story’s main threat, the central relationship thread ultimately turns out to be Harry’s relationship with Sirius himself. Harry believes Sirius betrayed his parents and wants revenge. But when he discovers Sirius is innocent (and is, in fact, his godfather), the relationship becomes an answer to Harry’s deepest desire of finally having a family and a home outside the Dursleys’. 3. The Internal Conflict Both of the above are external manifestations of the story’s theme, which plays out within the protagonist’s internal conflict. The protagonist’s character arc will be linked to the character’s actions in the external conflict. The conflict between the Lie the Character Believes and the thematic Truth, between the Thing the Character Wants and the Thing the Character Needs—this is the true heart of your story. Although the character arc can play a background role within a noisy story, it is never ancillary. The more integral it is to the external plot, the more powerful the story and its integration of the theme. For Example: Harry must confront his fear, grief, and anger about his parents’ deaths. These threads culminate in Harry making more conscious choices about how he will respond to the past, including his decision to spare Pettigrew and, finally, his realization that he does not need to wait for his father to save him because he is capable of casting the stag Patronus himself. 4 Types of Subplots (Or the 4 Structural Sources That Create Subplots) Now that you can see what subplots are not… what are they? Although you can find many different trope lists of subplot types, there is no official list. So instead of starting with labels, I find it more useful to get under the hood and look at how subplots actually operate by asking where secondary conflict actually comes from. I think about four primary categories of secondary conflicts, which although integral to the story, are still subordinate to the main conflicts mentioned above. Consider them in terms of supporting the main conflict. If they aren’t an integral beam within the structural house, they don’t belong. 1. Minor Character Relationships Most of the complexity of subplots arises from the supporting cast. Technically, to create a solid storyform, you need only three types of character (protagonist, antagonist, relationship character), but most stories offer up much larger casts—and, along with them, more complexity in the plot—and, thus, subplots. Your protagonist may be working through conflicts with more than one relationship character. Each of these relationship characters will, in turn, have their own goals within the external plot, and, optimally, their own internal conflicts as well. For Example: Prisoner of Azkaban surrounds Harry with supporting characters whose individual concerns create secondary threads that nevertheless feed the main story. Lupin wants to teach and protect Harry while concealing both his lycanthropy and his history with Sirius. Hagrid desperately wants to save Buckbeak from execution. Hermione’s own increasingly mysterious behavior creates tension within the trio of friends. Eventually, all these disparate threads lead back into the same central conflict. 2. Minor POV Characters Your story may take these minor character relationships to the next level by giving any number of these characters POVs of their own. The moment you do this, you elevate these characters to the level of “mini-protagonists,” which means you may end up exploring their external, internal, and relationship goals in almost as much depth as you do the protagonist’s. The most important thing to keep in mind is that, despite the popular mantra, these supporting characters are not the heroes of their stories. Not really. Their narratives, however cursory or complete, must contribute to the protagonist’s in a foundational way. For Example: Prisoner of Azkaban remains tightly centered on Harry rather than giving its supporting characters independent POVs. We experience Hermione’s mysterious schedule, Lupin’s secrets, Sirius’s actions, and even the Buckbeak storyline largely through Harry. Had the story given Hermione scenes in which readers followed her independent use of the Time-Turner, or Lupin scenes centered on his own history with Sirius, those characters might have functioned more like “mini-protagonists” with narrative throughlines of their own. (It’s worth noting that the story was not weaker for its decision not to include additional POVs; if anything, the narrative was more cohesive and seamless.) 3. Lower Levels of Antagonists We’ve talked before about the varying levels of antagonism you can feature in your story. Every story will have a primary antagonistic force—the one directly opposing your protagonist’s main plot goal. But you may also choose to feature smaller antagonists who interfere with your protagonist on the way up the mountain to face the Big Boss. But, again, these antagonists shouldn’t create detours for the protagonist so much as represent stepping stones in that journey up the mountain. For Example: Prisoner of Azkaban layers antagonism primarily at the Public and Personal levels. Snape and Draco create recurring conflict within Harry’s everyday world at Hogwarts, while Sirius initially represents a deeply personal threat connected to the deaths of Harry’s parents. The Ministry and its Dementors add broader institutional pressure. Each layer complicates the same central story rather than sending Harry off into unrelated conflicts. 4. Minor Antagonist Goals Finally, in direct relation to the above, you can also focus on sidelong antagonists and their goals. These are characters who are not necessarily affiliated with the main antagonistic force, but who have their own agenda, which at some point is at cross-purposes to your protagonist’s. These characters don’t even have to be “bad”; they could just be frustrated allies who decide to take matters into their hands at the wrong moment. For Example: Snape has a deeply personal goal of seeing Sirius captured and punished. He isn’t allied with Pettigrew or knowingly working for the story’s true antagonist, but once Harry discovers the truth, Snape’s goal puts him directly at cross-purposes with Harry, Lupin, and Sirius. 5 Tips for Organizing Subplots Once you know what subplots are and aren’t, what do you do with them? How do you weave them into your story in a way that enhances rather than detracts? And if you’re writing a story as complex as, say, epic fantasy, how do you keep track of everything in a way that ultimately reinforces your story’s overall cohesion and resonance? Here are five ways. 1. Create Your Subplots, Pt. 1: What Are Your Minor Characters’ Goals? Did you notice how every single one of the sections we talked about above revolved around somebody’s goal? This is because goal (or at least intention) is the engine that drives conflict. Without it, there is nothing for the antagonistic force to oppose. Just like plot itself, subplots should originate from someone’s desire for something and/or forward momentum toward something. Examine your supporting characters. Beside each name, write down what this character wants in this story. Some of their wants will be evident; some won’t. But don’t stop until you’ve brainstormed a goal for each character. Whether or not these goals become prominent in the main story, you will have instantly added dimension to your entire cast. And if any of the characters’ goals turn out to have little or nothing to do with the main plot? Well then, you may just have found a character you can safely cut. 2. Create Your Subplots, Pt. 2: What Are Your Protagonist’s Minor Goals? Even though your protagonist’s primary focus will be on gaining the main goal and defeating the main antagonistic force, the protagonist c https://www.helpingwritersbecomeauthors.com/how-to-write-subplots/ #mainplot #subplots #harry #first #oldesubplot #azkaban #sirius #rss #feeds #linksharing #qwibbit

21.43: The Not-Final Word on Endings Today we’re focusing on the mechanics of writing endings: what needs to be resolved, what can be left dangling, and how to give your reader a sense of what has changed. We talk about symmetry between beginnings and endings, giving important moments enough room to land, and how a final line can shape the feeling your reader walks away with. We also dig into epilogues, callbacks, “avatars of success,” and why the order of your final beats matters. Plus, why you probably don’t need to know your perfect last line when you start writing—or even when you finish your first draft. Homework: Ask yourself these five questions about your ending: Does it match the promises of your beginning? Do you have an avatar of success? What did your characters earn? Is there any symmetry with your opening? Does the closing line underline the tone or theme of the story? Credits: Your hosts for this episode were Mary Robinette Kowal, DongWon Song, Erin Roberts, and Howard Tayler. It was produced by Emma Reynolds, recorded by Marshall Carr, Jr., and mastered by Alex Jackson. Powered by RedCircle https://writingexcuses.com/21-43-the-not-final-word-on-endings/ #rss #feeds #linksharing #qwibbit

21.42: Deconstructing the Heroine’s Journey Psychotherapist Maureen Murdock invented the Heroine’s Journey in response to Joseph Campbell’s monomyth Hero’s Journey. He reportedly said, “Women don’t need to make the journey, they are the place that everyone is trying to get to.” This version of story structure is attempting to tell different stories. This week, we’re diving into the Heroine’s Journey! We talk about its (very) gendered origins, but also about what we can take from the structure: what happens after a character gets what they thought they wanted? Our hosts also discuss the biases built into different plot structures, layering structures on top of each other, and using the Heroine’s Journey to think about a character’s relationship to themself, their community, and the expectations placed on them. Homework: Pick one of three strands—your character’s relationship to community, self, or expectation—and track how it changes at each major plot point. When you get to the end, ask: is there somewhere else you can go? Credits: Your hosts for this episode were Mary Robinette Kowal, DongWon Song, Erin Roberts, and Howard Tayler. It was produced by Emma Reynolds, recorded by Marshall Carr, Jr., and mastered by Alex Jackson. Powered by RedCircle https://writingexcuses.com/21-42-deconstructing-the-heroines-journey/ #heroine #journey #josephcampbell #maureenmurdock #psychotherapistmaureen #erinroberts #howardtayler #robinettekowal #alexjackson #emmareynolds #rss #feeds #linksharing #qwibbit

The Lie the Character Believes: A Deeper Look at Consciousness and Character Arc For years, in my book Creating Character Arcs and elsewhere, I’ve taught the Lie the Character Believes as the central premise of character arc. The Lie the Character Believes is the limited perspective that prevents characters from embracing the thematic Truth until the events of the story force them to grow. In a Positive Change Arc, characters will move past the Lie to embrace the more expanded perspective of the story’s thematic Truth. In a Negative Change Arc, the characters’ failure to embrace that growth will cause them to devolve into a more constricted or warped perspective. Creating Character Arcs (Amazon affiliate link) Basically, the Lie references a state of being that characters must outgrow in order to positively change their circumstances. The Lie the Character Believes Isn’t Really a Lie But if we really look at what’s happening in transformational fiction, it turns out… the Lie the Character Believes really isn’t a “lie.” Now, I’ve always liked the pithiness and accessibility of this terminology. We can all immediately understand how a character’s mistaken understanding requires a character arc. We see Jane Eyre’s explosive and inspiring growth from mousy, repressed orphan to fully sovereign woman, thanks to the unraveling of childhood programming that told her she was unlovable. Jane Eyre (2006), WGBH/BBC. We watch the protagonist of Everything Everywhere All at Once awaken from the numbing belief that life is meaningless to discover that meaning is something we create through our choices to show up and show love. Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022), IAC Films. We see Feyre in A Court of Thorns and Roses gradually release her survival-based self-belittlement to embrace her power as a keeper of community in a larger world. Court of Thorns and Roses series by Sarah J. Maas (affiliate link) But as I’ve come to recognize over the years, the Lie is not just a Lie. I’ve come to emphasize it specifically as a comparatively limited belief that exists in a continuum with a comparatively expansive Truth. Because here’s the thing: at the beginning of a story, the Lie starts out as the character’s Truth. To some degree, it was a Truth that worked for them up until the story begins. For Example: In Book 1, Feyre’s zoned-in focus on survival skills are exactly what supports her family for years… until she kills the shapeshifting wolf in the woods, is pushed into the larger world of the Fae, and must grapple with the fact that her perspective of herself in that world must evolve and expand if she is to adapt. The Truth a character reaches in any one story is just the beginning. In life, we are constantly leveling up along this continuum. Yesterday’s Truth becomes tomorrow’s Lie–or, more accurately, yesterday’s expanded perspective becomes tomorrow’s limited perspective as the horizon grows ever broader before us. For Example: At the end of Book 1, Feyre learns love is worth sacrifice, but Book 2 quickly proves the limitations of this perspective as well. From there, she must expand that Truth to recognize that authentic love cannot require the perpetual sacrifice of one’s own identity. The rabbit hole goes still deeper. Recently, I was once again contemplating the Lie the Character Believes and thinking about how I have engaged with this continuum of growth in my own life. What I realized was that many of my greatest revelations and expansions haven’t really felt like a dramatic shift from “something that wasn’t true” to “something that was true.” Rather, what they’ve always felt like is clarity. They’ve felt like coming into alignment with something that, at some level, always felt true, but that had been blocked in some way. And so, I would posit that the Lie a character overcomes really isn’t so much a wrong belief they must correct (or at least not always and not at its deeper levels). Rather, it is a fissure in consciousness—a place where the conscious self is inhabiting an ego identity that has created separation between its surface-level understanding and the deeper Truth of our being. Three Ways to Understand the Lie the Character Believes Within this philosophy of the Lie the Character Believes, we have three different models of increasing complexity. Three ways to understand the Lie the Character Believes: as a mistaken belief, a limited perspective, and an ego identity. First, we have the Lie as simply a mistaken belief or even an outright deception that must be seen through. Second, we have the Lie as a point within a continuum from a comparatively limited perspective to a comparatively expanded perspective. Both “Lie” and “Truth” are qualified here; they are not black and white, good or bad. They are just reference points for where characters may find themselves along the continuum at any point. And third, we have this deeper understanding of the Lie as an ego identity or a comparatively limited consciousness. It is ultimately a separation between the conscious self and the unconscious self. When we zoom back from the minutiae of any specific character arc to look at the movement of human growth, what we are really tracking is the larger expansion that becomes possible as we release the limitations of our ego identities, allowing us to embrace our capacity for deep alignment with the truths of life. The Lie the Character Believes as Separation What does it mean to identify with the ego? The ego is a limited awareness of the self. It tells me I am my name, my job, my gender, my ethnicity, my trauma, my roles. It then reflects the world back to me in equally limited terms: simply, the world is what I perceive—whether I am idealistic or cynical. But none of these things are, in fact, true. I am not K.M. Weiland—those are just letters and sounds my parents passed on to me. I am not a writer—that is just something I do. The world around me is neither good nor bad just because I perceive it so (not least because my certainties change with my moods). I am not a genius just because I get a good review, any more than I am stupid just because my inner critic tells me so. But to the degree my ego latches on to the importance of either as an identity, it separates me from the larger continuum of my own greater consciousness and immediately creates a limited perspective. Worse (or not, since this is a writer’s bread and butter!), it now tells me I must defend that identity to the death. And, of course, the super-sneaky part is that we don’t even recognize this is happening. In opposition to the Lie the Character Believes in a story, we find the thematic Truth. In a specific story, the Truth will also be something specific. If a character believes the Lie that she is only valuable if she wins a competition, then the Truth might be that her family will love her even when she loses. But underneath that specific Truth is always the larger Truth, which is “because our perspectives are always limited, our identification with those perspectives is often what is causing us pain.” Different stories will choose which model makes the most sense for their thematic and psychological complexity. For Example: In The Truman Show, Truman’s arc is built around the first model: he has literally been deceived about the nature of his world and must see through that deception in order to become free. The Truman Show (1998), Paramount Pictures. In Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth Bennet’s arc illustrates the second model: she is not overcoming an outright falsehood so much as expanding beyond a limited perspective to recognize a more nuanced understanding of herself and others. In fact, we see a layering here, in that her initial prejudice of Darcy (aka, her limited perspective) actually does cause her to believe Wickham’s specific falsehood about Darcy’s character. The scene structure here answers its opening question with a resounding, “Yes. Elizabeth does encounter Darcy.” In The Lord of the Rings, Frodo’s deepest arc points toward the third model: although his journey challenges mistaken beliefs and expands his perspective, its ultimate movement is the gradual surrender of an identity rooted in self-reliance, allowing him to participate in something infinitely larger than himself. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001), New Line Cinema. How the Backstory Ghost Creates the Lie the Character Believes Where does this limiting ego identification come from? Within the theory of storyform, it originates with the Ghost in the character’s backstory. Often a wound, the Ghost is the specific catalyst that either formed the ego identity or created a defensive need to cling to it. By the time a character arc grows beyond simple Lies and Truths into an expansion of consciousness, the Ghost is often simply what we now recognize most commonly as childhood coping mechanisms. It is whatever created the first severances of inner wholeness in an attempt to meet early needs. Habits of a Happy Brain by Loretta Graziano Breuning (affiliate link) And as Loretta Graziano Breuning speaks about in her book Habits of a Happy Brain, our early experiences of such hormones as dopamine, serotonin, endorphins, and cortisol wire our entire perception of the world. How our brains develop creates our personalities, which in turn influence the stories we tell about ourselves and others, which in turn become our identities. In short, we might just as easily recognize the Lie as a coping mechanism. Just as a Lie isn’t a Lie for your character until it stops proving effective, a coping mechanism is never something we question—until it stops helping us cope and/or starts creating more problems than it’s solving (i.e., more mad or sad hormones than happy or safe ones). That’s the point at which the story begins. It’s the point at which characters begin the slow journey toward the consciousness that perhaps they are more than whatever limiting coping mechanism they’ve been identifying with all this time. As character arcs bear out over and over, this is often a painful journey. Even when characters are moving toward a better, more expanded, healthier place of being, everything inside screams that this transformation is dangerous. The ego is built to help us survive, but its programs are limited. It doesn’t always adapt as quickly as life demands. And when life insists that what the ego believes will keep it safe is, in fact, a “lie,” the ego will exert all manner of painful tactics to return to the status quo. The Gene Keys by Richard Rudd (affiliate link) In The Gene Keys, Richard Rudd comments on this: The suffering we feel, though real within the context of our physiology, is an illusion when it comes to our minds. And our minds hold the key to its release…. As we see at the shadow frequency, the mind automatically collapses into confusion when faced with the pain underlying life…. All it takes is willingness to feel the pain, and the miracle begins. For Example: Jane Eyre’s childhood rejection teaches her to survive by making herself small and emotionally self-sufficient, until that very strategy prevents her from accepting the love she most longs for. Feyre Archeron’s years of poverty and neglect teach her that her worth depends upon sacrifice and survival, until those same coping mechanisms become prisons she must outgrow in order to embrace a fuller identity. Woody in Toy Story builds his identity around being Andy’s favorite toy, and every perceived threat to that identity triggers fear, jealousy, and defensiveness until he learns his worth apart from his status. Why Character Arc Is Alignment Rather Than Transformation Although I dearly love the idea of character arc as being about transformation, I think this expanded model reveals it might be more accurate to instead think of character arc as being about coming into alignment. It’s less about a change to the character’s fundamental self and more about the removal of the false self. It’s not the addition of a new perspective, but the stripping away of what isn’t true so the character may see more clearly. Writing Masterclass: Ego-Driven Character Arcs vs. Soul-Driven Character Arcs In my class earlier this year Ego-Driven Character Arcs vs. Soul-Driven Character Arcs, I talked about how the soul-driven (or dharmic) character arc demonstrates an advancement from the ego-driven (or karmic) arc, in that these characters undergo transformation with less resistance. Even if they may struggle with the specifics of the change required of them, they at least embrace the understanding that this movement toward Truth is unavoidable and even beneficial. This is why we may see arcs that feature more “advanced” characters—such as the Mage archetype—engaging in comparatively little plot conflict. They are willing to embrace the suffering of further initiation and understand that non-reactivity is a surer path. They don’t have to force the change any more than they want to resist it; it will come to them if they let it. Rudd puts it: As your inner spirit decides to face who you really are for the first time ever, the mind tricks are witnessed. Even characters struggling through extremely egoic Lies will (if their arcs are successful) eventually reach a moment when they recognize that embracing the Truth means being non-reactive to the Lie and the confusion it creates now that it is no longer proving effective. Instead, they must allow the Truth, as Rudd says, “to enthuse and fire your mind with inspiration.” Man and His Symbols by Carl G. Jung (and others) (affiliate link) In the multi-author book Man and His Symbols, Jungian scholar Marie-Louise von Franz speaks of how: …this creative active aspect of the psychic nucleus can come into play only when the ego gets rid of all purposive and wishful aims and tries to get a deeper, more basic form of existence. The ego must be able to listen attentively and to give itself, without any further design or purpose, to that inner urge toward growth. For Example: In Kung Fu Panda, Po’s greatest breakthrough comes when he stops trying to become someone else’s idea of the Dragon Warrior and simply inhabits his own personal genius. Kung-Fu Panda (2008), DreamWorks Animation. In The Matrix, Neo becomes “the One” by finally releasing his identification with the limits he believed defined him. The Matrix (1999), Warner Bros. In Return of the Jedi, Luke’s final victory comes through refusing to continue fighting from within the rage-fueled identity the Emperor is trying to impose upon him. Star Wars: Return of the Jedi (1983), 20th Century Fox. In Everything Everywhere All at Once, Evelyn’s breakthrough comes when she stops reacting to the chaos around her and instead chooses compassionate presence, allowing love rather than fear to guide her actions. Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022), IAC Films. In Jane Eyre, Jane’s crucial act of transformation isn’t choosing Rochester, but rather refusing to choose him until she can do so without betraying herself. Jane Eyre (2006), WGBH/BBC. The Lie the Character Believes as Social Reality When we consider the Lie the Character Believes to be this sense of separation from our deeper selves, we can see it played out at many different levels within the metaphor of story. Characters may face Lies that are internal (identity), external (social), or both. In either case, the Lie always represents some version of the status quo that has grown stagnant and therefore malignant. The Social Construction of Reality by Peter L. Berger and Thomas Luckmann (affiliate link) Ego identities are not simply personal. They are reinforced through collective social consensus. Society itself can be seen as an ego identity. In their seminal book, sociologists Peter L. Berger and Thomas Luckmann posited that reality, as we think of it, is a social construction. Customs and traditions are dictated by varying societies. That America or Columbia or Italy are countries at all is a social convention. Indeed, the conventions of language are a social construction, with (mostly) agreed-upon rules. Although we each, in our own small way, influence society, society bears a tremendous influence upon our own ego identities—not just in how we ope https://www.helpingwritersbecomeauthors.com/lie-the-character-believes-consciousness/

21.32: Barrier Breaking- Time Constraints There never seems to be enough time to write—but is time really the problem? Our hosts explore the reality of working within limited hours, changing life circumstances, and competing priorities. We share practical strategies like time blocking, micro writing sessions, and the Pomodoro Technique that do and don’t work for us. We hope this conversation helps you build systems that support your writing instead of relying on motivation alone. Homework: Track how you actually spend your time for a week without judging yourself or trying to be aspirational. Then review your schedule and identify one or two realistic systems you can put in place to better support your writing goals. WAITLIST for our Final WXR Cruise! Our final WXR cruise is sold out, but you can join our waitlist here! Credits: Your hosts for this episode were Mary Robinette Kowal, Howard Tayler, DongWon Song, and Erin Roberts. It was produced by Emma Reynolds, recorded by Marshall Carr, Jr., and mastered by Alex Jackson. Powered by RedCircle https://writingexcuses.com/21-32-barrier-breaking-time-constraints/

How to Pitch Your Novel: The Difference Between Your Story’s Hook and Heart Quick! You’ve got less than a minute to convince me your story is worth my time. What do you tell me? You’ve got to pique my curiosity with mystery and potential, while still conveying the bulk of the plot, theme, and general tone. “No problem!” you say. But when you sit down to actually figure out how to pitch your novel in such a stellar way, you may realize that conveying the parts that will most interest audiences isn’t always easily compatible with also conveying the technicalities of the plot—at least not within the confines of such a short description. This is because your story’s hook and your story’s heart aren’t the same thing. What your story is really about—its heart, its core—may not be its hook at all. Fortunately, when you realize this, it suddenly makes the job of combining both into your pitch or back-cover summary much easier. A story’s hook is the element that makes readers curious enough to pick up the book. A story’s heart is the deeper essence that makes the story matter after they do. This revelation goes beyond just learning how to pitch your novel in the most effective way. The differences between your story’s hook and your story’s heart will affect every page you write. The sooner you figure out which is which—and how to best optimize them both—the better your book will be. Click for larger view. What Is Your Story’s Heart? Your story’s heart is what it’s all about, way down at its core. This is the soul of your story. If it’s a love story, a thriller, a coming-of-age story—that’s going to be a fundamental aspect of your story’s heart. But we’re talking more than just genre here. The heart of your story is its essence. It’s the point. It is the meaning that shines through the technique. It is the reason this story will matter to readers after you’ve hooked them with your premise. The easiest way to figure out your story’s heart is to ask yourself two questions: Question #1: Why Are You Writing This Story? If the answer is, “I love romance” or “I want to make a difference in young people’s lives” or “I had an idea for a political drama set on Mars”—then that’s a great starting place for identifying your story’s heart. But keep digging. Why this romance? Why these young people? Why Mars? Why this political drama instead of any other? Question #2: What Is the Story Really About? Rikers High by Paul Volponi (affiliate link) When a fellow writer asks what you’re writing, what do you tell them? “It’s a story about a kid who ends up in the prison on Rikers Island, where he is inspired to turn his life around, thanks to the school there.” Maybe that was the exact answer Paul Volponi gave regarding his YA novel Rikers High. It’s a snappy summary of his story’s main thrust. Other stuff happens in his book, but this is the point. This is the heart. Examples of Story Hearts Consider the beating heart of a few more stories: A man with the ability to jump through space to anywhere in the world is captured by people trying to harness his abilities. (Reflex by Steven Gould) A weakling prince is sold into slavery, where he searches for faith and grows into a warrior while fighting as a gladiator. (Light of Eidon by Karen Hancock) Edward Rochester’s first wife struggles to maintain her sanity in the face of his casual cruelty and their loveless marriage. (Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys) A teenage girl is forced into a politicized gladiatorial gameshow, where her refusal to play by the rules challenges a corrupt system. (The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins) A young girl’s anthropomorphized emotions must learn teamwork when a traumatic move to a new town coincides with the girl’s shift into adolescence. (Inside Out) A laundromat owner is pulled into an endangered multiverse, which forces her to confront her fractured relationships with her family. (Everything Everywhere All at Once) You’ll notice these are all streamlined descriptions of these stories. They don’t incorporate subplots or plot twists, because those things are ultimately extraneous trappings to the true heart of the stories. When you’re pitching your story, don’t worry about the extras. Just focus on the true essentials. What Is Your Story’s Hook? Your story’s heart should also be specific enough to stand on its own. For example, “a story of star-crossed lovers” will never be as effective as “two star-crossed teenagers fall in love and, when their families object, end up committing double suicide” (which is, of course, Romeo & Juliet). But even when your story has a fabulously specific and unique heart, your hook will almost always be even more specific and unique. Remember, a story hook is the element that makes readers curious enough to pick up the book. A story heart is the deeper essence that makes the story matter after they do. In the Writer’s Digest feature “Meet the Agent” (March/April 2014), literary agent Elizabeth Winick Rubinstein encouraged authors: Really think about your novel’s hook. What makes it stand out? How is it different from all the other novels in my inbox? The hook is what grabs people’s attention. We’ve all read coming-of-age stories. We’ve all read ill-fated love stories. We may even have read stories about kids in juvenile detention or teenagers killing themselves for love. These ideas may be at the heart of some really stupendous stories, but without a hook to grab curiosity, readers will never take a deeper look. To identify your story’s hook, ask yourself these questions: Question #1: Why should audiences care about this story? If audiences were automatically going to be interested in anything you wrote, you wouldn’t need to bother with the hook. You could tell your tale and trust that audiences would share your interest just because. Sadly, it doesn’t work that way. So why will audiences think this story is interesting? What will make it stand out from the rest of the coming-of-age stories and tragic love stories? What question will audiences want answered? What will make them think, “Okay, I haven’t seen this version before”? Question #2: What is the single most interesting and unique element in this story? You may be stumped after that first question. Lots of us are. We don’t always start writing a story because it’s unique or has a built-in hook. We start writing because we love its heart. But to find your story’s hook, you have to look past the surface. Why did you need to write this story? Why couldn’t you just re-read Romeo & Juliet and call it good? Start looking for the single most interesting element your story has on tap. To narrow that down even more, consider what’s unique about your story. More often than not, that’s where you’ll find your hook. Your hook may be: An unusual character A fresh character relationship dynamic A high-concept premise An ironic situation A unique POV voice A subverted trope The hook needs to create a spark of curiosity. Examples of Story Hooks So what are our original example stories’ hooks? Reflex: A man can jump through space. That’s relatively unique (especially compared to, say, super-strength). Even better? This potentially super-powered story doesn’t follow any of the obvious plot tropes from the comics. It’s not about a superhero using his powers to save the world. It’s about a freak being hunted, tortured, and having to figure out how to save himself. Light of Eidon: Consider the elements this story offers: a prince, a weakling, a gladiator, a warrior, a faith crisis. In themselves, none are unique. But combined, they create interesting mashups. A weakling prince as the hero? Don’t see that one very often. A captured prince fighting as a gladiator? Nope. Throw in that crisis of faith (which is really the heart of the story), and suddenly some extremely interesting possibilities begin to surface. Wide Sargasso Sea: This one has an instant built-in “unique factor”: it’s a prequel to Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre, told from the perspective of the mad wife in the attic. The hook is built right into the premise. The Hunger Games: Here, the story’s elements include a teenage girl, a gladiatorial gameshow, a corrupt government, enslaved performers, a love triangle, and a revolution. Of course, we’ve seen dystopias. We’ve seen survival stories. We’ve seen oppressive regimes using spectacle to control the masses. But children forced to kill each other on live television? That’s new. Even better, the theme isn’t just about whether Katniss will survive the arena; it’s about whether she can survive without her humanity intact. Inside Out: Again, this one starts with a high-concept hook built in to its premise: the story takes place inside a girl’s mind, where her emotions are literal characters running the show. Immediately, that gives writers all kinds of possibilities for everything from comedy to symbolism. But that is just the stage on which the story can then ask deep questions such as, “What if sadness is necessary?” Everything Everywhere All at Once: The hook is obvious here: an immigrant laundromat owner discovers she can access the skills and memories of infinite alternate selves across the multiverse. The story takes all that chaos and weirdness—hot dog fingers, googly eyes, talking rocks, bagels of doom—and roots it in the relatable ordinariness of a mother who doesn’t know how to understand her daughter. Although the multiverse is the hook, the fractured family beats at its heart. Once you’ve got your story’s hook figured out, you may be able to work it right into the description of your story’s heart (as in the descriptions of Rikers High and Romeo & Juliet above). If you can, so much the better, since that practically answers our next question for us… How to Combine Your Story’s Hook and Heart in a Novel Pitch Now that you’ve differentiated your story’s heart and its hook—and narrowed them both down into short and specific tags, which should come first in your sales pitch to an agent or audience? The hook always comes first. Remember: nobody cares about the heart of your story until you first hook their curiosity. Present the most interesting and unique thing about your novel right up front. Don’t save it. Give it to them immediately. If you can’t grab them right away, you’re sunk. So bring out the big guns! Depending on the medium you’re working in (query letter, synopsis, back cover copy), you may be limited by how much space you’ll then have to share the heart of your story. In some instances, it might not be necessary to include it all. All you really care about is reeling people in. They can discover your story’s heart when they read the book! However, although the best novel pitches often lead with the hook, they are anchored by the heart. If you are required or have the opportunity to share your story’s heart, do it as pithily as possible. Always try to phrase it as a hook of its own. Never tell people what a story is about: “It’s a tragic love story.” Always show them: “Two teenagers fall in love at first sight and turn suicidal when their parents object to their getting married a few days later.” Once you have your story’s heart and your story’s hook well in hand, you’ll be ready to meet any potential agent or reader with confidence. But don’t wait until then! Figure this stuff out before you start writing your first draft. Doing so will help you focus on what your story is really about and empower you to build a heart and a hook that will live up to any sales pitch. Want More? If you’re looking for even more writing instruction, I’m excited to be participating in the WorldShift Summit for Speculative Fiction Writers, a free online conference running August 17–22. WorldShift brings together 30+ authors, editors, and writing teachers for presentations on story structure, character, worldbuilding, revision, publishing, and much more. Registration is completely free, with each day’s classes available to watch for 24 hours. I’ll be teaching The Hidden Architecture of Meaningful Fiction: 7 Elements That Give Stories Weight, a brand-new class exploring practical ways to create greater depth, cohesion, thematic resonance, and meaning in your stories. → [Join me at WorldShift for free] There’s also an optional All-Access Pass if you’d like lifetime access to the entire conference, including all presentations, transcripts, speaker bonuses, and live events. See you there! Wordplayers, tell me your opinions! How do you balance your story’s hook and heart when learning how to pitch your novel? Tell me in the comments! Click the “Play” button to Listen to Audio Version (or subscribe to the Helping Writers Become Authors podcast in Apple Podcast or Amazon Music). ___ Love Helping Writers Become Authors? You can now become a patron. (Huge thanks to those of you who are already part of my Patreon family!) The post How to Pitch Your Novel: The Difference Between Your Story’s Hook and Heart appeared first on Helping Writers Become Authors. https://www.helpingwritersbecomeauthors.com/how-to-pitch-your-novel-story-hook-heart/

21.33: When To Shift Gears A story doesn’t always need the same tools from beginning to end. In this episode, we talk about recognizing when it’s time to shift gears—and how to make those changes feel intentional rather than abrupt. Our hosts look at transitions between action, dialogue, and tone, while exploring ways to signal those shifts to the reader. We also discuss how to use your own writing environment to help you change modes– sometimes the right gear is simply the one that makes the story easier to write. Homework: Choose a scene and write down your intention for it. Change something about your physical environment—your music, lighting, chair, etc.—to match that intention, then write the scene. Next, give the scene a different intention, change your environment again, and see how your writing changes. WAITLIST for our Final WXR Cruise! Our final WXR cruise is sold out, but you can join our waitlist here! Credits: Your hosts for this episode were Mary Robinette Kowal, Howard Tayler, DongWon Song, and Erin Roberts. It was produced by Emma Reynolds, recorded by Marshall Carr, Jr., and mastered by Alex Jackson. Powered by RedCircle https://writingexcuses.com/21-33-when-to-shift-gears/

Free Online Writing Conference for Writers: Join Me at the 2026 WorldShift Summit In the mood for a free online writing conference this week? I’d love to recommend one I’m excited to be part of! The WorldShift Summit for Speculative Fiction Writers officially begins today, and I’m delighted to be returning as one of this year’s featured speakers. After participating in the inaugural conference last year, I can honestly say it was one of the most rewarding writing events I’ve ever been part of—and that’s saying something, because if you’ve followed my work for very long, you’ve probably noticed I don’t do many conferences, interviews, podcasts (other than my own), or speaking events. Those kinds of events require a tremendous amount of creative energy, and over the years I’ve generally found it’s better (as a high-intensity, low-energy mega-introvert) to invest that energy in writing books, creating classes, and producing new resources here at Helping Writers Become Authors. So last year, when Heather Davis invited me to participate in the first WorldShift Summit, I hesitated. Then I said yes. And it turned out to be one of the highlights of my year! Part of that was simply the quality of the conference itself. Heather assembled an outstanding lineup of presenters covering every aspect of writing fiction—from story structure and worldbuilding to publishing, productivity, revision, and the writing life. The event was wonderfully organized and absoutely packed with practical instruction. What surprised me, however, was how energized I felt afterward. During my session, I spent the hour in the live chat with everyone watching the class, answering questions, and talking story with writers from around the world. The enthusiasm was contagious! People were having ah-ha moments, sharing insights about their own stories, building on one another’s ideas, and asking questions that pushed the conversation in all sorts of fun directions. I came away fired up. That experience was one of the main catalysts for the Story School classes I’ve had so much fun sharing with you this year. Which is one of the reasons I’m so happy to be back as a speaker at Worldshift again this week! What Is the WorldShift Online Conference for Writers? WorldShift is a free six-day online writing conference created especially for speculative fiction writers. Although the conference focuses on fantasy, science fiction, horror, magical realism, dystopian fiction, and other speculative genres, many of the presentations explore storytelling principles that apply to fiction of every kind. Whether you’re wrestling with plotting, character development, worldbuilding, revision, publishing, productivity, or just trying to rediscover your enthusiasm for your current manuscript, there’s likely to be a presentation that speaks directly to where you are in your writing journey. This year’s lineup features more than thirty authors, editors, and writing teachers, including Jessica Brody, Gabriela Pereira, Janice Hardy, Leslye Penelope, Savannah Gilbo, Heather Davis, Rachael Herron, and many others. And if you’re just hearing about the conference today, don’t worry—you haven’t missed your chance to participate! How It Works Registration remains open throughout the week. (Visit the link and click the Get Your Free Ticket! button at the top.) Each day’s presentations are available free for twenty-four hours after they premiere, so you can jump in at any point and start watching. If you’d like to keep every presentation permanently, the optional All-Access Pass includes lifetime access to every session, along with exclusive transcripts, speaker bonuses, live Q&A recordings, writing sprints, the literary agent panel, critique-partner event, and additional conference resources. (You’ll find options for the All-Access pass when you register for your free ticket.) My New Class Premieres Thursday My own presentation will premiere this Thursday, August 20, and I’d love to have you join me! It’s called: The Hidden Architecture of Meaningful Fiction: 7 Elements That Give Stories Weight Why do some stories stay with us for years—while others fade from memory almost as soon as we finish them? It’s rarely just a matter of plot, premise, or even beautiful prose. The stories that truly resonate create a sense of depth, significance, and cohesion that makes them feel as though they matter. In this session, we explore the hidden architecture of meaningful fiction. You’ll learn seven practical elements that consistently give stories weight—from transformation, theme, and subtext to the strategic use of time, setting, subplots, and scene reactions. More importantly, you’ll discover how these elements work together to create cohesion and resonance, allowing your story’s meaning to emerge naturally rather than feeling forced or preachy. This class offers both a big-picture understanding of why stories create meaning and concrete craft techniques you can immediately apply to your own work. Whether you’re writing epic fantasy, romance, literary fiction, or anything in between, you’ll come away with a deeper understanding of what gives stories lasting impact—and how to write fiction that readers won’t simply enjoy, but remember. Although we’ll spend time discussing the philosophy of story, this is first and foremost a practical craft class. My goal is to give you concrete tools you can immediately apply to your own work. If you’ve been following the Story School classes this year, this presentation builds naturally on many of those same ideas while taking the conversation one step further. (Plus, if you’re interested in checking out my classes, this one is free!) I’d Love to See You There My favorite part of last year’s conference was getting to spend the hour of my class talking with everyone in the live chat. Writing is such a solitary pursuit that opportunities like this can give us all fuel and camaraderie that we may not always know how much we need. For a few days, writers from all over the world gather to think deeply about story, ask questions, share ideas, and encourage one another. That sense of community is something I’m looking forward to sharing with you all again this week! If you decide to join us, I hope you’ll stop by my session on Thursday. I’ll be in the live chat throughout the presentation, answering questions and talking story with everyone who’s watching. Whether you watch one presentation or immerse yourself in the entire week, I think you’ll come away with fresh ideas, practical tools, and renewed excitement for your own writing. Registration is completely free, so if you’d like to join us, you can reserve your spot here: → [Register for the WorldShift Summit] And if you’d like to revisit the presentations after the conference, the optional All-Access Pass gives you lifetime access to every session, along with speaker bonuses, transcripts, the live events, and all of the additional conference resources. (Note that the price of the All-Access pass will go up after the end of the conference this week.) If you choose to purchase the All-Access Pass through my affiliate link, thank you! It doesn’t cost you anything extra, and it helps support the work I do here at Helping Writers Become Authors. I hope to see you on Thursday. If you do join me, please stop by the chat and say hello! Frequently Asked Questions Is the WorldShift Summit free? Yes. Registration is completely free. Just visit the link and click the Get Your Free Ticket! button at the top. Each day’s presentations are available to watch for twenty-four hours after they premiere, so you can join the conference at any point during the week. To gain lifetime access after that, you can purchase the All-Access Pass (you’ll find the info for that when you register for your free ticket). Who is the WorldShift Summit for? The conference is designed primarily for speculative fiction writers—including fantasy, science fiction, horror, magical realism, and dystopian fiction—but many of the presentations explore storytelling principles that apply to fiction of every genre. What will K.M. Weiland be teaching? My presentation, The Hidden Architecture of Meaningful Fiction: 7 Elements That Give Stories Weight, premieres Thursday. We’ll explore why some stories resonate so deeply with readers and examine practical techniques for creating greater thematic depth, cohesion, and emotional resonance in your own fiction. Can I watch the presentations after the conference? Yes. The optional All-Access Pass includes lifetime access to every presentation, along with transcripts, speaker bonuses, the live Q&A recordings, writing sprints, the literary agent panel, critique-partner event, and additional conference resources. Affiliate Disclosure: As a WorldShift speaker, I receive a commission if you choose to purchase the All-Access Pass through my affiliate link. It doesn’t cost you anything extra, and it helps support the work I do here at Helping Writers Become Authors. The post Free Online Writing Conference for Writers: Join Me at the 2026 WorldShift Summit appeared first on Helping Writers Become Authors. https://www.helpingwritersbecomeauthors.com/worldshift-summit-2026-free-writing-conference/

21.34: Knowing the Distance How close is your reader to the story? Should they be closer? Today, our hosts get nerdy about narrative distance: the space between reader, narrator, character, and world. We talk POV, sensory detail, and familiarity—and how each can zoom a reader in or pull them back. From The Lord of the Rings to Severance, we look at what changes when we experience one person’s pain up close versus an entire battle from afar. Homework: Write an action scene where the heroes violently dispatch their enemies. Then rewrite it with a perspective and distance shift so it becomes a horror scene about those enemies being miserably dispatched. WAITLIST for our Final WXR Cruise! Our final WXR cruise is sold out, but you can join our waitlist here! Credits: Your hosts for this episode were Mary Robinette Kowal, Howard Tayler, DongWon Song, and Erin Roberts. It was produced by Emma Reynolds, recorded by Marshall Carr, Jr., and mastered by Alex Jackson. Powered by RedCircle https://writingexcuses.com/21-34-knowing-the-distance/