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5 Ways to Overcome Writer’s Block and Start Writing Your Next Project: Tips & Tricks

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Are you struggling with how to start your project? Itching to get writing but don’t know where to start? Maybe you feel stuck or walled off by writer’s block.

Have no fear. It happens to everyone.

Fortunately, there are several effective strategies you can use to overcome writer’s block and start writing your next project.

Say goodbye, writer’s block! We’re about to get your creative juices flowing again!

1. Change your writing environment.

We have to start here because it’s often an overlooked key to unlocking the stuck mind. When we do a certain thing or go to a certain place over and over again, our brains mold pathways that make thinking patterns fall into those same old ruts right away. The goal here is to change things up and break those crusty old behaviors.

Here are some of the ways to do that:

  • Change your writing schedule. Write in the evening? Try writing first thing in the morning.
  • Try writing in a different place. If you write in your office, try writing at a coffee shop instead.
  • Take a break and walk around. Get the endorphins pumping! This really helps.
  • Go for a drive to nowhere. 20 minutes in the car by yourself with no distractions (or maybe some music or an audiobook) does wonders to “reset” your brain.

2. Warm up with a writing exercise.

Writing exercises are great because you never know where they will go or what you will get out of them. More than a few of my own works have come directly from writing exercises I did to warm up my fingertips.

It doesn’t have to be a formal exercise either. The point isn’t to follow a set of arbitrary rules, but to get your brain thinking in the “writerly” way while expanding into newer, fresher territory.

Here are some ways to do that:

  • Describe something. Pick something you see and describe it. Spend at least a page doing so. Try describing the thing or person without naming it directly.
  • Practice freewriting. This technique involves writing without stopping or censoring yourself for a set period of time, say 10 minutes. Just write whatever is in your brain and see where it goes.
  • Write from a prompt. There are thousands of writing prompts available on the web, such as those provided by Writer’s Digest. Another great way to jumpstart your creativity.
  • Try a writing exercise. Or two. Or several. Reedsy offers a helpful list of writing exercises for novelists in particular, but anyone can get value from them.

Also Read: 5 Simple Tricks to Improve Your Descriptions

3. Start with a dramatic hook.

Now we’re getting into pro-level writing techniques designed to unstopper your writer’s block. In this method, you will open a new project with the most dramatic image, setting, or scene you can imagine. It doesn’t have to be connected to anything yet. The point here is just to make it arresting, intriguing, and make the reader want to turn the page—even if the reader is just you.

Here are some ways to do that:

Open on an arresting image.

This is a great technique because it sparks instant intrigue and excitement.

Consider making the image seem out of place at first to arouse curiosity and wonder. Is the Statue of Liberty’s head lying in a garbage heap? The Mona Lisa on fire? A foreigner surrounded by masses of seemingly identical locals? There are no rules, only imagery.

Describe something visual.

By opening on the description of something visual, you can draw the reader in by setting the scene and starting small before expanding their view of the scene. Begin by describing the image in detail, along with the action, and then exploring outward from there to pieces of the world, other characters, and events that may have occurred off-screen.

As with the arresting image, you may find it helpful to take inspiration from art, such as one of the innumerable collages on Pinterest, artist pages on Facebook, Deviantart, or classic works of art found in museums around the world.

Begin anywhere but the beginning.

Really. Many writers find themselves unable to dive into a new novel or screenplay because they can’t figure out how to start the book. Here’s a secret: start it later.

For now, pick a part of the book you know you want to write and start writing there. Is it the description of a character? A place? An exchange of dialogue? An action?

Don’t let yourself be held back.

Open with conflict.

Another favorite choice of writers, especially in the movies. If you’re writing a screenplay, jump into the action in media res without lapsing into direct exposition. If you’re writing prose, start on an action and dive right into the scene conflict. Many great stories start with action.

Conflict is the bread and butter that keeps readers glued to the story. So why not open the story with some type of conflict? Physical, social, purely internal—again, don’t limit yourself.

Start with dialogue.

This is a riskier tactic but opening up on the right line of dialogue (or even a voice over in film) is a way to make the audience stick around to see what happens next. Dialogue that’s outrageous or obviously out of context works well here. So does tying the dialogue directly to the middle of a conflict: “What do you mean you’ve lost it?” or “Like I said before, you wanted a problem, now you got a problem.” Et cetera.

If you can make it work, it’s a great way to go. In general, however, opening with action or description is a stronger choice, so use this technique carefully.

4. Start with research.

Many writing projects require research. Personally, I find my best ideas come to me directly out of the research I do—while I’m doing it. Making notes and scribbling ideas down as I go, in no time at all, I end up with a stack of material that helps me get started. I like to think of these as tent pegs I’ve put in the ground, and when I get to the writing phase, my task is to connect with pegs with canvas until a cohesive structure is built.

Here are some ways you start with research:

  • Stick your nose in some books. Good old-fashioned research technique. I keep a separate notebook I can write ideas down in, page numbers, and other notes so as to avoid defacing books (yes, I am that kind of person).
  • People watch. Go to a public place and write descriptions, behaviors, backgrounds, or whatever you like about the people and groups you observe.
  • Make a visual board. Using websites like Pinterest or a more conventional corkboard on the wall can help you bring together characters, images, settings, and ideas to make the world feel more real. Start by selecting one image. That way, you’re less likely to get overwhelmed.
  • Watch or read interviews. This approach is overlooked far too often. By looking at interviews from subject matter experts and survivors of very specific experiences, you can garner details for your story that you might not be able to get anywhere else.

5. Start by concepting with a friend.

I love this approach. Personally, I find it very helpful. Two brains are better than one. The simple act of verbalizing and articulating your ideas in front of someone else and getting their feedback helps you sort out what works and what needs work. Let the ideas flow freely. Don’t worry about ideas being “too big” or “too crazy.” You never know what will stick to the wall.

Think of this strategy as a creative brainstorm with someone who will act as your sounding board. Your hype person. Your confidant. Your friend you owe a coffee after putting up with your insane story ideas.

Another advantage to this strategy is that being put on the spot to articulate an idea verbally helps you “hear” it out loud more like a stranger would. It also forces your brain to suddenly connect dots and make observations you might not have consciously known before.

If you have a friend who’s willing to take the extra step with you, set up a few ground rules for the concepting session:

  • Use as many “what ifs” as possible.
  • Agree that no “what if” is a bad idea.
  • Try to explore each “what if” as far as possible.
  • Always respond with “yes and” —meaning you must agree to the “what if” and add another element, detail, twist, or “what if” on top of it.
  • Don’t shy away from the big “what ifs”—what if the genre was X instead of Y; what if the main character was the opposite gender; what if the story started at the end; etc.

Final Thoughts

Overcoming writer’s block can be a challenge, but by using these five tips and tricks, you can break through your creative roadblocks and start writing your next project. Whether it’s changing your writing environment, warming up with a writing exercise, starting with a dramatic hook, starting with research first, or you simply need to brainstorm with a friend first, these strategies can help you approach your writing with renewed energy and focus.

Use as many (or as few) of these techniques as many times as you need to pop the cork on writer’s block. By this time next year, I’m confident you will be well into your creating your best work yet.

And, of course, never stop writing!

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3 Ways to Write Better Poetry

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So you’re a poet who wants to improve your craft. Maybe you’re a writer who’s thinking about making the jump into poetry. Or maybe you’re a creative person looking for a new way to express yourself.

Whoever you are, wherever you are in your life’s journey, welcome to poetry.

Poetry is a powerful, timeless art form unlike any other. It twists and conforms language into unusual combinations to deliver meaning and expand our perspective of the world.

What is a poem?

A poem is whatever it wants to be. When someone says “poetry is ____” they destroy the essence of a poem. If that’s the case, then how do you define a “poem”?

A poem is a brush stroke on an empty canvas.

A poem is a gust of summer breeze that clutches your hair on its way to the north pole.

A poem is a mud puddle.

A poem is a falling leaf.

A poem is the first sip of a fresh beverage.

A poem is a broken pencil covered in dog sh*t on the sidewalk.

A poem is whatever you want it to be.

How to write better poetry

Now that we know what a poem is, let’s get down to brass tacks: how to write better poetry.

I could tell you to go out and experiment with poetic forms , classic rhyming poetry and modern free verse poetry, but you can learn how to do that from anywhere.

Instead, let’s take a look at three strategies that have served me well in my personal journey as a writer, both in terms of growth and getting poems published.

Want to read some of my published poems? Check it out.

1. Describe around something

This technique is one of the most helpful for a poet. The idea here is to describe something without ever directly labeling it for what it is. In labeling something, you diminish it only to the 1- or 2-dimensional image conjured by the label’s name.

For example, try describing a tree without using the words “tree,” “wood”, “forest,” or “bark”—much like what we did in the What is a poem? section above.

Try it out, see where it leads you. Surprise yourself with what you get.

In the following poem by Erin Cunningham (used with permission), the poet describes a river without using the words “river,” “stream,” or “water.” The subject matter is only labeled in the title, but not in the body itself.

American River, North Fork
by Erin Cunningham

foam tents tumble down
	the forest’s snake

ice scurries through my
	toes, my fingers

immersed with angled stones,
	silt, sand shimmers

spent sun paints your road white
	like gems, it glitters

how your calm rinses city’s stain,
	the stink of stress and toil

what wonders wait around
	your emerald elbow

what secret snakes, minnows,
	bears, hawks hide?

will golden flecks settle
	in slick palms?

will my feet sink
	into her bed

become her loam?

perhaps I’ll build a roof
	upon her beachy banks

retire from all societal care
	my mind made smooth

as her whispering rhythm

but with daylight’s eclipse
	Monday is waiting

Note how, at the very end, she gives the poem an additional layer of meaning that makes us re-examine the entire poem with a new perspective.

2. Write write write, then cut cut cut

This is another powerful technique to add to your poetic toolbelt. After you’ve written your poem, go through and cut all unnecessary words. Then go through it and cut out even more. Small words like articles and prepositions and even many adjectives should be at the top of the list.

Now cut out even more words. Chop down each line to just the bones.

And then cut it again.

Cut beyond what you’re comfortable with and see what’s left (remember, you can always add words back in).

Experiment with using punctuation, white space, formatting, and placement on the page to enhance your minimalist poem and replace eliminated words.

As with technique #1, you’ll surprise yourself.

For example, let’s take the four-line stanza:

When the lightning rod stands upright
defiant in the weather, unbreakable femur bone
against the rain, you are thunder’s shivering spear
strike deep, Thor’s arrow, find your mark!

And cut cut cut, then cut some more. Until we get the much leaner, more modern:

lightning rod
weather bone
thunder's spear
strike deep

Has a completely different feel, doesn’t it?

You don’t have to write every poem like this—you don’t have to write any poem like this—but it’s a good technique to master to help improve your poetic craft.

Less is more.

3. Imitate another poet

Life imitates art. Art imitates life. Poets imitate poets. There’s nothing wrong with this. In fact, many poets find themselves so inspired by a poem that they simply must write a poem of their own to celebrate the original.

In this technique, you will use an existing poet’s style or individual poem as a jumping-off point for your own.

Look to the poem in question as you write, following the phrase structure, line length, punctuation, topic—whatever you feel in the moment—as you go.

Here are a few helpful tips to get you started:

  • Use the same number of words or syllables per line.
  • Follow the same phrase structure, but change the text itself.
  • Start the poem by replacing words with antonyms.
  • Copy the shape, lines per stanza, or length of lines.
  • Write your poem on the same subject but with a different perspective.
  • Contradict the original with a direct rebuttal.

You may find that halfway through this exercise your poem has taken on a life of its own. That’s wonderful! Feel free to leave the original poem behind as you explore your own poem’s life.

How to become a better poet

Write. Keep writing. Continue writing every day, all the time, forever and into infinity.

Even if no one ever reads half of your work, every new poem brings you one step closer to becoming a stronger poet. Practice makes perfect, right?

In addition to writing, seek to explore new forms, styles, and subject matter. Instead of just imitating the greats, try perusing published works in several of the hundreds of online poetry journals out there. You’ll get a lot out of the amazing and daring poetry you find there on the cutting edge. Besides, there are too many under-celebrated poets out there.

In the meantime, we are always growing. Life is a process of becoming. We are always becoming better poets.

Never stop writing!

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5 Simple Tricks to Improve Your Descriptions (and Become a Better Writer)

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One area where many writers struggle is with writing prose descriptions. This is understandable since description is the bread and butter of storytelling. And yet writing good description can also be tenaciously challenging.

There is no tried-and-true formula for writing “good” descriptions. Think of it more like writing what’s appropriate for the tone, voice, genre, and action of the story. In The Sun Also Rises, considered one of the great works of 20th-century literature, Ernest Hemingway wrote his description simply, sparingly, and unadorned. Compare that to another classic, Moby Dick by Herman Melville, where the author goes on for page after page just to describe a painting.

That said, you don’t have to be a Hemingway or a Melville to write good description. Here are five simple tricks anyone can use to level up their writing game and become a more effective storyteller:

1. Don’t name it, describe it instead.

Seems obvious, right? It’s less obvious than it sounds. It’s also a very simple trick to write more engaging, more interesting (and more artistic) prose descriptions. The idea here is to not name the subject being described. Instead, you will say anything and everything but naming what it is (this is also an excellent—and fun!—writing exercise).

Let’s take the example of a zombie. “Zombie” is a great example because in naming the subject a “zombie,” you automatically conjure a one-dimensional abstract idea in the mind of the audience, which both cheapens its impact and forces you to work harder to overcome biases or preconceived ideas about what a zombie is, does, and should be like.

Instead, we can describe what the zombie looks like (pale skin rife with infected sores), how our senses perceive the zombie (a wave of sickeningly sweet stench assaults my nose, triggering my gag reflex), or what it does (stumbling forward like a baby deer, unsteady on its legs)—all without having to use the literal word “zombie.” (Don’t worry, audiences are smart. They’ll get it.)

Another way to think of it: How do your characters experience the situation? How about: Here is a dead, rotting human being that is somehow impossibly moving around me. And I recognize their face. Am I sure they’re even dead? Are they diseased? I can see splintered bone through a hole in its skin. I think I’m going to be sick. How do you stop this thing? Et cetera.

Compare that to describing the subject as a “Zombie”—a light term, a funhouse idea, something you see in movies. What a difference, right?

2. Avoid abstractions.

Piggybacking off #1 in the list, avoiding abstractions is another easy way to write better description. An “abstraction” is any word that is open-ended in its interpretation, and therefore lacking in concrete detail. Think of words like “perfection” or “good” or “beautiful.” Sure, you can use these words and the audience will understand what you mean in a general sense. But each person will see “perfection” or “beauty”—and even “good”—very differently. Poets avoid abstractions like they’re on fire. Maybe they’re onto something.

Like #1, you are essentially avoiding the abstract word (“zombie” is abstract, but not necessarily an abstraction) and instead describing the specific things that add up to that abstraction. If we are describing a new character as “perfect,” instead jot down a list of descriptors, characteristics, aspects, or behaviors that make you think of “perfect.” Guess what? String those together and you’ve just written a better description than simply writing “perfect.”

For example, if we are describing a sculpture, “perfect” could be replaced with statements like marble so smooth and intricately detailed that it resembled real cloth you could touch and move with the slightest breath, or swooping inward at such a meticulously symmetrical angle, or bewelled about its mouth with emeralds and rubies and other precious stones, each as clear as a mountain stream and free from defect. The list goes on.

As with #1, we described around the abstract idea without using the abstraction itself. The end result is description that’s far more vivid.

3. Be specific.

You’ve probably noticed a recurring theme there. Superb descriptions have one thing in common: specificity. The best descriptions aren’t too vague, abstract, or general. They use specific details. In this case, we mean being really specific. It’s hard to over-emphasize just how effective this tactic can be in getting an image across.

Specific is concrete. Specific is unique. Specific conveys an idea with as little wiggle room as possible for misinterpretation. In addition, highly specific descriptions tend to stick in the audience’s mind and imply a much greater level of information on top of that. In short, it packs a punch.

Let’s say we’re describing a character’s midlife crisis. There are endless ways to do that. One thing to avoid is vagueness. It’s a big feeling with a lot of factors that go into it.

Compare:

She was having a midlife crisis.

to:

She felt like her life amounted to a bug splattered sideways on the windshield of an old rusty pickup truck, which was then retired to a dilapidated barn and left to gather dust.

Obviously, one of those descriptions is way more specific. Think about how much more information that “bug splatter” description delivers compared to the plain “midlife crisis” sentence. Remember, not everyone in the audience will understand what it’s like to experience a midlife crisis, or will have had exactly the same experience as the character. Being specific helps illuminate the unfamiliar.

4. Use uncommon words (occasionally).

Building on what we learned in trick #3, one way to help your descriptions be more specific is to pepper in the occasional uncommon word. This doesn’t mean hunt down the most obscure word you can find and jam it into the text (hint: that usually doesn’t help—it’s akin to using an abstraction). Instead, try grabbing a few of the more unusual words out there to help your description stand out. You’d be surprised at just how many words readers know.

For example, let’s say we are describing a stranger that looks exactly like someone our character already knows. Instead of saying the stranger looked exactly like someone I know or they could be their doppelganger, you can be more specific by describing the stranger as a flesh-and-blood simulacrum of my childhood best friend, [insertnamehere]. Not only are we being specific, but dropping the uncommon word, “simulacrum,” into the description makes the event less mundane and much more mystical.

Uncommon words are also a great addition to a character’s dialogue to help differentiate them from the rest of the cast. If you elect to go this route, I strongly suggest not adding it to every character’s dialogue unless you’re going for a certain effect.

5. Paint the picture, but don’t belabor the point.

Here’s a trick from screenwriting that I wish every writer knew. One of the most mind-boggling parts about writing description is: What do I describe and how much?

Good question.

The answer is simpler than you think: You don’t have to describe everything. In fact, it’s better that you don’t. Description slows pacing and holds little weight compared to other narrative elements, like conflict or creating memorable trailer moments.

So how do you “paint the picture” with description?

First, let’s start by pointing out that all the tricks we’ve talked about up to this point feed into this one tactic. You will use #1-#4 to accomplish this, but especially #3. 

I mentioned screenwriting. When you’re writing a movie or TV script, you have so little space to communicate information that every phrase must carry maximum impact. Do you remember when we described a character’s midlife crisis as a bug splattered on a windshield? (If not, it’s time to revisit the description back in #3.) That’s the start of painting the picture. Using that very descriptive sentence, we create a crisp, concrete sense of emotion, mindset, and imagery.

In a screenplay, we could end it there. But if you are working in a more word-heavy medium like narrative fiction, then you can use that line as the start of painting a more complete picture. Maybe we don’t have to go into every single detail that led to the midlife crisis. However, we can support that initial description by adding supporting statements that give specifics. Again, not everything, just a few brushstrokes to get the point across, help us understand the character, their current emotional state, and the situation. And we will do so using every trick we have at our disposal.

For example’s sake, we’ll follow up our sentence, “She felt like her life amounted to a bug splattered sideways on the windshield of an old rusty pickup truck, which was then retired to a dilapidated barn and left to gather dust,” with three descriptive statements about the most salient items in the character’s mind that lead her to this feeling.

Maybe she feels the cavity in her soul, an aching in the deepest recesses of her body and spirit because of the death of her daughter (I know, dark). She feels like a songbird caught in a birdcage and the owner has gone away, never to return. And most recently, her latest art gallery opening was a disastrous flop—only five tickets sold and even the gallery owner got drunk and passed out after one-too-many back-room martinis.

Even if we wrote nothing else about the situation, the audience would at least get a strong sense of where this character is in her life, how she is feeling right now, and also pick up on a tone that mixes both tragedy and comedy. And we only had to write four short descriptions. Magic!

The Bottom Line

Good description doesn’t happen by accident (okay, maybe sometimes it does). It takes hard work to write descriptions that connect with the audience, create a clear sense of the subject, and convey the writer’s intention. Yes, there are other ways to continue improving your ability other than writing description. And also yes, description isn’t the only part that matters in storytelling. But learning to write poignant description is a surefire way to improve your overall skill as a writer.

That’s it for now. Never stop writing!

Do you have thoughts? Questions? Contemplations? Share in the comments below or message me on Twitter: @storyscience.

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Why Does Success or Failure Matter? A Quick and Easy Guide to Creating Stakes in Storytelling

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Let’s start at the beginning—

What Are Stakes?

Stakes are what a character stands to lose if they fail, or if they don’t do something. But more than that, stakes are the why.

What about motivation, you ask? Motivation is also a why, isn’t it? Yes! But stakes create that motivation.

If a character doesn’t have a reason to do something, then they aren’t motivated. When that character acts without being motivated to do so, we don’t understand why the character is doing what they do. It ends up feeling forced or contrived.

However, knowing what’s at stake if they don’t act gives that character a reason to move forward—because the alternative (not taking action) is worse.

In story terms, stakes are why something matters—decisions, complications, obstacles, plot points, etc.

Why Are Stakes Important?

Without stakes, you can’t have those big pivotal moments where the hero makes a choice between Option A and Option B. Stakes crystallize why a reluctant hero must rise to the challenge to take on a difficult task because what they stand to lose if they don’t take action is worse. Stakes are why the hero can’t just walk away from the people relying on him/her/them and take the easy way out.

What If My Story Doesn’t Have Stakes?

If you don’t know already, I’m a story consultant. All too often, I see screenplays, novels or tabletop game materials that are missing stakes.

This lack of stakes will tank your story’s impact in a number of ways:

  • The audience won’t understand your characters’ motivations.
  • The audience won’t invest in your characters or your story.
  • The audience will feel like the plot has not point.
  • The audience will come away feeling like the story was a waste of time.

Stakes make the decisions and actions of the characters matter. Stakes are why we invest in the protagonist and their success. As we, the audience, bond with those characters, their success or failure becomes ours.

Yikes.

Nobody wants that.

How Do I Put Stakes in My Story?

Once you know how stakes fit into the narrative formula, it’s actually quite simple. The easy place to start is in terms of “life and death” because the outcome of success (life) or failure (death) is so concrete. That’s your starting point.

Next, let’s abstract that idea to character growth (“life”) or character death (“death”). Characters must continue to grow and develop or they become stagnant, which is “character death” from a narrative perspective.

A character that ceases to grow is for all intents and purposes “dead.” If your protagonist has become stagnant, something must happen to make them grow again. Nobody wants to follow a protagonist that stays narratively dead. Instead, they want to experience a character moving forward in growth, meaning success or “life” in the narrative.

Many movies start out with the protagonist “stuck” in a status quo that does not allow them to grow, motivating a need for change but unable to move forward without the inciting incident that will change everything.

A protagonist who finds themselves in a dead-end job and marriage has died, proverbially or narratively. But then some spark suddenly introduces itself and they now have the opportunity to grow again—to choose “life.” Or, the protagonist can remain where they are by choosing “death.” (Think American Beauty.)

Some people find it helpful to think of the “life” part of stakes as the character’s “way of life.” That is, the way of life that is best for the character, usually involving growth or moving forward in some way.

Faced with the two choices, the protagonist is motivated to choose growth (“life”) on the new path. But there will be obstacles along the way that block the protagonist’s path, threatening to send the character back into stagnancy (“death”). If the character overcomes the obstacle, they succeed and move on, continuing to grow. Failure means a setback (if the stakes are lower). Later in the story, when the stakes are high enough, failure means a return to death.

So a rough formula might look something like this:

Stakes > Motivates Action/Decision > Character Proactively Acts/Decides > Faces Obstacle > Fails or Succeeds

If Succeed > Raise Stakes

If Fail > “Character Death”

Tips for Putting Stakes in Your Story

Here are a few quick tips to help you put stakes in your story:

  1. The stakes must be clear, always.
  2. The stakes must be big enough to motivate action or decision.
  3. Don’t go too long without reminding the audience what’s at stake.
  4. The strongest stakes confront characters with “death”—metaphorical, proverbial, or literal.
  5. Start small, go big. Use that contrast to create a sense of rising conflict.
  6. You can always go bigger.
  7. Can you lower the stakes? Only if other, bigger stakes present themselves.
  8. Once an obstacle is overcome, raise the stakes (repeat as needed).
  9. Use other characters to illustrate the consequence of failure (i.e., the stakes).
  10. Use antagonists to actively work against the protagonist, enforcing the stakes.
  11. Your antagonists have stakes, too. What motivates them to succeed over the protagonist?
  12. Use escalation and counter-escalation to continually raise the stakes.

Making It Matter: Examples of How Stakes Work

Let’s say we have a male character that runs a business. He is motivated to complete a big project for his biggest client. He’s operating a business, after all. But that motivation alone is not very strong. Knowing why he wants to complete the project strengthens that motivation significantly. We add that “why” with stakes.

Here’s how we might do that:

  • The project is on a tight deadline.
  • It requires his entire workforce.
  • If he fails to deliver the project at high quality and on time, he may lose that client forever.
  • If he loses his biggest client, his struggling business will fold, and everyone will lose their jobs.
  • The business owner will lose the business he built from the ground up for more than 40 years.

If the audience knows those five whys—what the stakes are for failure—the owner’s motivation suddenly becomes a helluva lot more powerful. Because we know the whys, as the audience, we invest in that character’s success and want him to succeed. He knows the stakes, too, driving him forward. The more the character wants to succeed, the more the audience will want it for him.

Raising the Stakes

Throughout your story, there should be a general rise in the stakes. At each obstacle or plot point, you can “raise the stakes.” When you raise the stakes, you are adding more to what your character will lose if they fail. It not only fuels motivation so they don’t give up when faced when bigger and harder obstacles, but keeps the story interesting and the audience invested. By the time you reach the big climax in act three, the stakes should be at the highest possible point.

The simplest way to raise the stakes is to throw in a new complication. After all, you can’t sit on the same stakes forever or the audience will get bored. Adding a complication, bump, or obstacle in the protagonist’s goal-seeking puts pressure on the character, making it harder to achieve that goal. Again, the stakes make all of that matter.

How much can you raise the stakes? All the way! But keep it appropriate to the world of your story.

For example, you can go: Loss of face > loss of status > loss of livelihood > loss of life > loss of family’s life > loss of country > loss of world > loss of universe > loss of time and existence.

However, going all the way to the “loss of time and existence” may be too  big to be appropriate for your story. A smaller, character-oriented story will run on a smaller scale than a big action sci-fi story. But, as with the narrative character “life” and “death” concept, the “loss of time an existence” can be expressed in metaphorical terms in relation to the character. For example, our business owner may feel this way about the loss of his business.

Speaking of which….

Example of Raising the Stakes

Let’s return to the example of the business owner:

Time to throw in something new—a complication to the business owner’s goal. He discovers one of his employees is stealing from him, jeopardizing the project. If it continues, the project won’t be completed on time and the business owner risks losing money, the client, his business, and more.

To overcome the obstacle, the business owner proactively confronts the employee, who responds by threatening to frame the owner for fraud—raising the stakes.

How does this raise the stakes? Now the stakes are bigger than before: The business owner stands to lose his biggest client, business, livelihood, the livelihood of his employees, and he’s in danger of losing his reputation and going to prison.

We can do this in other ways, too:

The business could burn down, or the client pulls their order without paying at the last minute, or the employees stage a walkout because of the long hours they’ve been working. Maybe all of these complications happen, adding pressure to the business owner and illustrating for the audience how close to failure the protagonist is.

In the third act, the stakes may inflate to their biggest size yet.

Maybe the business is a small biotech research laboratory. An insider from his client reveals that if the lab can’t deliver this order on time, they won’t be able to contain a dangerous pandemic. The stakes jump from loss of livelihood and reputation to global life and death.

Whew!

Without stakes, none of it would matter.

There’s an added bonus in working out the stakes for your story. Did you notice how, in doing that, we inadvertently (but deliberately) outlined an entire story and all its major turning points? And what a dramatic story it is!

If you are struggling with structuring our outlining the major beats or plot points of your story, consider looking to the stakes and seeing if that helps you get over that hump to reach the finish line.

books, how-to, movies

Adapting Your Screenplay to Novel: Turning Your Script into a Book

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So you’ve recently completed this amazing big budget blockbuster screenplay . Now you want to make something happen with it. The problem is: No one is biting.

Why?

Because big budget spec scripts don’t sell. (You can read more about that in my previous article.)

Maybe your best next step is to consider adapting your screenplay into a novel. Although this is the reverse of how the process usually works (books adapted into movies are more common), that doesn’t mean this road is any less viable. In fact, adapting your completed screenplay into a book should be a go-to course of action if your screenplay is still gathering dust after a year or two.

Recently, I decided to take a big budget fantasy script that was a pet project of mine and transform it into something marketable. That meant tossing aside the idea that this script would be sold on spec (it wouldn’t) and taking a more realistic approach: Turning my screenplay into a novel.

Having embarked on this new experience, I can now offer some helpful advice on what to expect when you adapt your spec script into a book.

If you haven’t dusted off that old screenplay lately, maybe it’s time to turn it into a book!

Why Adapting Your Screenplay Into a Novel is a GREAT IDEA

1. It’s far easier to get a book published than to get a screenplay made. And lastly, a successful novel will help build the IP required to support that big budget sci-fi/fantasy/superhero spec script you wrote.

2. You already know the characters, story and world. Much of the hard work is already done. Writing the novel will also help deepen your understanding of each of these elements, in turn making the script even better (assuming you update it).

3. Simply put: It’s fun! So much more fun than I can put into words. The rush of writing those big visuals as they splash and evolve across the screen is simply indescribable. Why not enjoy what you love doing most?

CHALLENGES TO EXPECT

1. You Can’t Just Paste a Screenplay and Expect a Novel to Happen.

I cannot understate this point. Movies and book simply aren’t the same. This may seem obvious at first, but the differences are deeper and truer than even most professional realize. They handle storytelling in different ways. For you, this means you can’t just copy and paste your script into prose format. You will have to invest time in writing the book for the medium.

J.R.R. Tolkien once stated that his genre-defining epic The Lord of the Rings could not be filmed for this very reason. The effort to successfully adapt the series to screen required monumental effort by Peter Jackson and his many, many teams of moviemakers.

Cut-and-paste didn’t work going from book-to-screen, so it won’t work in reverse, either.

2. Not Everything Translates from Screen to Page.

Certain storytelling constructs will require additional effort to make them work. For example:

  • Novels reveal the internal monologue / film does not
  • Action thrives on screen / requires more work in prose
  • Screenplays are leaner, less forgiving / books have more freedom to explore
  • Novels are longer, so can have wider variance in structure / script structure is fairly rigid

3. You Will Have Gaps — Big Ones.

Whereas a screenplay has the magical effect of stimulating the imagination with minimal words on the page, and a movie has the luxury of using dedicated specialists to realize design for costumes, sets and atmosphere, a novel must do most of this for itself. For example, characters will require more description to capture the reader’s imagination.

Likewise, objects, sensations, visuals, impressions and feelings will take a little more exploration to make the same impact. Things you wouldn’t normally have to mention in a screenplay (because their presence is implied by the location, for example) often demand a mention to help set the scene as well.

Writers like J.K. Rowling and J.R.R. Tolkien demonstrate a remarkable gift for writing minimal description to communicate their ideas. Storytellers like Herman Melville prefer to wax poetic for pages (even chapters) at a time about the virtues of a painting. Most of us lie somewhere in between.

Either way, be prepared to put some extra time into fleshing out the character gaps, locations, and the thoughts and sensory interpretations of the character, possibly even the narrator (if applicable). It helps to think of your screenplay as an annotated outline for your book.

4. Writing the Book Version Will Make You Want to Rewrite Your Spec Script.

Simply throwing a rough draft of your book onto the page will give you the opportunity to dive deeper into your characters and story world than you would have previously. I found it helpful to push myself through the end of a completed rough draft of the novel before taking a step back to reassess how my new discoveries might impact the next draft of the original spec script.

In case you’re wondering: Yes, I did simultaneously rewrite the script and the book. And yes, it was hair-pullingly difficult. In the end, both story forms benefited greatly from the process and I have no regrets.

(NOTE: Don’t feel obligated to rewrite your script—not at first, anyway. You can still use it as-is for a writing sample. Rewriting your script may not be worth the effort.)

5. Screenwriting is More Fun, but Novel Writing is More Fulfilling.

This isn’t so much a challenge as a forewarning. Nothing beats the rush of writing a screenplay, especially when you are wrapped up in the intensity and immediacy of the moment. Compared such an amazing experience, writing a novel can feel a little bit like a letdown. Not that it’s bad—because it isn’t—but in many ways, it takes longer in a book to cover the same ground as in your screenplay. That can be frustrating.

Still, in the end, writing a novel gives you so much more freedom to express yourself and explore the characters, voices and world than you get in the restrictive screenplay format. Because of this, creating a novel can be more fulfilling in the end. Even screenwriting great William Goldman recommended writing something other than screenplays on the side.

I still love my spec screenplay (it was a vanity project, after all), but I’m even more proud of the book that came out of it. Additionally, the novel version also has a dramatically higher likelihood of being read by other people than my spec script.

And let’s face it, there’s nothing like sharing your story with the world.

What was your experience? We would love to know.

books, how-to, movies

So You Wrote a Big Budget Sci-fi/Fantasy Script. Now what?

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Recently, I put the finishing touches on the second draft of a big budget fantasy feature screenplay. I wrote it both for fun and as a portfolio piece, knowing full well that a script like this would never get made. Even though it probably wasn’t the best use of my time, I still put more time, passion and meticulous care into this manuscript than I care to admit right now. (Hint: It was a lot.)

Curious for input from other Hollywood industry pros, I sent the script out for feedback. If you’ve ever written an original big budget spec script, then you probably have gone through what I experienced next. While the feedback was positive, these pros all told me the same thing: No one will ever want to buy this, no matter how good it is.

So, you’ve written a big budget sci-fi, fantasy, superhero or action script on spec and no one in Hollywood wants to bite. You’re probably asking yourself: What do I do now?

Now that you have a big budget spec script on your hands, what do you do with it?

The short answer: Don’t toss it. Your script still has value.

The longer answer is, well, a bit longer. Let me explain.

Having a completed, polished screenplay under your belt will always be a feather in your cap whether you sell it or not. What you do with it next, however, is the big question.

First, let’s be clear and up front about expectations:

  • A big budget script is very hard to sell in Hollywood.
  • A big budget sci-fi/fantasy/superhero script not based on an existing IP (intellectual property, such as Lord of the Rings or Marvel) is even harder to sell.
  • A big budget script based on an IP you do not own or have rights to will not sell in Hollywood (because it’s IP/trademark infringement).
  • Your big budget script probably isn’t going to be made into a movie.

In short, your big budget genre movie is next to impossible to sell (let alone get made) in Hollywood. That may sound harsh, but understanding the reality you are up against is crucial to knowing where you shouldn’t be focusing your efforts. Instead, we’re going to take practical steps to make the most of that awesome script of yours.

Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s look at your path forward. You essentially have two choices:

  1. Use your script as a writing sample.
  2. Adapt your script into a novel.

1. As a Writing Sample

If you are like me, writing sci-fi/fantasy is your jam, meaning when you write in that milieu, you are at your best (replace with superhero, action, etc.). Pick out a few choice selections from your script and use these to promote your ability, professionalism and creativity when auditioning for new writing projects.

You probably won’t jump to working on big budget projects directly from a spec script, especially if you are still new to the business, but it can be the linchpin that opens a doorway that eventually leads to that prized assignment.

Besides, while you are using your incredibly cool script as a staple portfolio piece, you can simultaneously be pursuing option #2:

2. Adapting Your Screenplay into a Novel

Converting your spec screenplay into a novel is perhaps your best route to getting that story onto the big screen (yes, you read that correctly). In fact, you can even do this and #1 simultaneously.

If your book is successful, then the powers that be will be much more keen to turn your book into a movie. Now you’re back where you started—except this time you have the backing of an existing IP.

However, I should err on the side of caution in saying that there are no guarantees here. All of this hinges on the fact that you can:

  1. Complete a novel,
  2. Get it published, and
  3. Reach a wide enough audience with a strong enough impact that your novel is considered successful enough for adaptation to the screen.

It doesn’t have to be a novel, either. Video games and comic books are viable options as well. In fact, your superhero script may be more suited to one of these genres than a novel.

Regardless of the route you take, embarking on this journey is certainly a far better strategy than sitting on a perfectly good, superbly awesome story that the world would otherwise never get to experience.

Better to share than to hoard in secret. (Yes, you can quote that).

So now that you’ve written a big budget sci-fi, fantasy, superhero or action script on spec and nobody in Hollywood wants to bite, maybe all your story needs is a new medium to make it big.

Time to get writing.

books, how-to, movies, TV

5 Easy Ways to Improve Your Rewriting Process

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Ask any writer what the hardest part about writing is and most them will you: rewriting. For many storytellers, rewriting is not only highly challenging, but not a whole lot of fun, either.

What makes rewriting so hard?

Take your pick:

  • Writing and rewriting/editing are two different skills
  • Rewriting is more technical and analytical, less creative
  • It feels confining compared to the freeness of pure creation
  • Self-editing is difficult because of your inherent bias
  • When your head is so far down in the weeds, it’s difficult to keep your eye on the big picture

Rewriting may be a challenge, but it doesn’t have to put a brick wall in front of your story’s future development. With that in mind, let’s look at five easy ways to make the rewriting process a little easier.

1. Make a Laundry List of Rewrites

How do you tackle rewriting a manuscript that needs so much work, it’s simply overwhelming? Make a list! A laundry list is a to-do list that itemizes each thing that needs addressed in your rewrite, separated into groupings of big, medium, small, and minor. You go through the list one item at a time, devoting all your focus to solving that one problem, starting with the biggest and most important issues, and then dialing in on smaller line items from there. Addressing big rewrites ends up solving many smaller items along the way. By the time you’ve finished your list, your next draft is suddenly much, much better. Not only does making a laundry list help you get organized, it allows you to focus on only one issue at a time without getting distracted or overwhelmed by everything else that needs to be done.

For more on this technique, read the full article here.

2. Save Every Draft Separately

You never know when you are going to need a snippet from an old draft until you suddenly need it—and can’t find it! Rather than saving over your current files, save every new significant draft as a separate file (or folder). Not only does this allow you to go back to old drafts to recover useful tidbits, but if anything happens to your current draft (e.g. computer crash) or you end up rewriting yourself into a corner, you always have a backup. Version tracking and management can be crucial, especially when working on variable story lines (like video games) or when dealing with complex deliverables (such as multilateral marketing collateral).

3. Keep Your Outline Current

As you proceed through multiple drafts of your manuscript, it’s a good idea to keep an updated outline of your story at all times. That way, as you get wrapped up in the smaller details of your story, you still have an easy reminder of the big picture—that is, the outline helps you see the forest while you are working among the trees. You can make notes about other points in the story via the outline without completely derailing your current writing task as well. The outline also prevents confusion as the story undergoes multiple drafts wherein story elements may change. Your outline essentially overrides any discrepancies between the different drafts, which becomes especially important if you decide to set the project aside for a few months and come back to it later on (see 5. Let It Rest below.)

4. Get Outside Input

Even though the process of soliciting feedback on a creative work can be painful, it’s also one of your most useful tools in rewriting. You get so involved in the world of your story that it becomes difficult to gain outside perspective—that is, how a prospective audience will interpret the story you’ve invested your heart and soul into.

A few tips for soliciting feedback:

  • You don’t have to (and shouldn’t) accept every criticism. Many will be way off base. Look for trends or repeat comments among various parties. These will be the areas to focus on.
  • Only a fraction of the people who offer to read the work will actually read it. Of those, only some will provide feedback. That’s totally normal.
  • It’s okay to preface handing out your work by saying the story is in early stages and you are just looking for general feedback. Let them know it’s not a final draft. Most people will understand, and many will be excited to offer their input.
  • Don’t get too discouraged if the majority of people who read your story aren’t super into it—that’s okay. It’s normal. You may get better results if you ask for feedback to a specific target audience similar to that of your story (“anyone out there like horror?”).
  • Try to seek out readers who are more likely to offer constructive feedback rather than accolades. While compliments feel good and can be quite inspiring, they won’t be as helpful as honest feedback.

5. Let It Rest

You’re stuck. You’re frustrated. It doesn’t seem like anything is working. So you shelve the story to give it some space and “let it rest.” You aren’t giving up. You’re simply setting it aside for a while with the intent to come back to it at a later time. Does this sound like you? Or something you would like to do? Guess what? “Let it rest” is a tried-and-true rewriting method for countless writers over the centuries. Not only is it an acceptable rewriting process, it’s a highly recommended one that can help you get “unstuck.”

Here are few reasons why coming back to a story after it’s been off your mind for days, weeks, months or even years, works so well:

  • A fresh look gives you a new perspective on the story, especially the big picture.
  • You get to experience the story more like your audience will.
  • You have a more mature, experienced skill set.
  • It’s easier to spot problems you missed before.
  • Coming back to an old story can inspire you to finish it.

After all, there’s nothing so reinvigorating to your storytelling senses than picking up an incomplete manuscript that’s begging to be finished.

We’ve explored five easy ways to improve your rewriting process. These methods are by no means an exhaustive list, but they are easy and everyone can use them.

What techniques do you use to make your rewriting process easier? We’d love to hear them.

Still Feeling Stuck?

If you still need help with finishing your story—no matter the medium—don’t hesitate to reach out to our experts here at StorySci.com. We offer story consultation and rewriting services, among many others.

advice, how-to, top 10, TV

10 Tips for Writing That TV Pilot

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So you want to write your own television show. Great!

Before you commit to writing the pilot episode for your brand-new TV show, why don’t you take a look at these 10 helpful tips for writing that TV pilot that will make your writing life a little bit easier.

1. Prepare to Invest

Many people jump right into writing episode one—the pilot for a brand-new show—thinking, “Hey, this will be WAY easier than writing that new novel of mine, or taking all that time to write a feature-length screenplay.”

Reality check: It isn’t.

In fact, developing a good TV pilot can be the hardest and most involved of all three, even though the end result may only look like 40-60 pages from the outside. This is because when you write a pilot, you aren’t just writing the script for episode one; you are creating a whole new concept with complex characters, multiple story threads, with as many setups and ideas for future episodes as possible. When someone reads your pilot script, they will only be reading the tip of the iceberg, not the vast amount of backend work that went into producing those measly few pages.

2. The Concept Must KILL

Before you really dig into your show, take enough time to make the concept air-tight. What do we mean by “concept”? The concept is a fleshed-out version of the core idea for your TV show—the idea that makes your show different from every other show out there.

If your concept is clear, it should be obvious what makes your show different from others and also make someone want to watch the show itself. For example, “ER for women” was a successful concept that became Grey’s Anatomy, based on the success of an already existing show but with a new angle. Lost created appeal through the concept alone: A group of strangers become lost after crash landing on a mysterious island inhabited by strange forces, but while surviving on the island, each character finds individual purpose after having been “lost” in their personal lives back home.

That said, make the concept grab the audience’s attention. For example, don’t just write an alien invasion show. It’s been done many times and hasn’t been successful. But if you want to write an alien invasion show where humankind is the invader—now that’s an interesting twist people can get behind.

3. Legs: The Show Must Go On

For American television, “legs” are very, very important. What do we mean by legs? “Legs” refers to the potential episodes the show can produce in the long-term based on the concept. A more open-ended concept typically offers more “legs.” A closed concept with one specific, attainable goal offers less of a future (if any).

With that in mind, part of what your pilot must do is setup the long-term future of the show—the “legs.” My Name Is Earl did this by using a wide-open concept with no foreseeable limitations (his list of wrongs to “right” can be as long as the sun, for all we know). A show about thieves planning a heist is problematic in that the goal is far too easy to reach. Once they’ve reached their goal, where does the show go from there? Breaking Bad solved this by always creating a bigger goal for the protagonist to achieve once (or even before) the old has been solved.

4. Know Your Audience

This should go without saying, but it comes up far too often to leave out. If the show doesn’t have a clear or specific audience in mind, then it will not be successful. Shows like Grey’s Anatomy, Pretty Little Liars and Stranger Things nail their audience targeting. Now imagine if Pretty Little Liars was written to target 30-something males…it would have bombed. The mid-2000s remake of Battlestar Galactica tried to rope in a wider female audience by focusing on romance in later seasons, and the result turned the show into a soap opera in space—disappointing original and the new audiences alike. The moral of the story? Yup, you guessed it: Know your audience.

5. Characters Are Everything, Protagonist More So

While characters are the heart and soul of any story, in television, they are the most important element. The cast needs to do more than survive the pilot. They will be responsible for carrying the show long-term. Above and beyond that, the central protagonist needs to be the most interesting of all, fleshed out with enough potential new material to keep audiences coming back episode after episode, season after season. If your characters don’t have enough setups in the pilot, they won’t be interesting enough to carry a second episode. Remember, anything that applies to the characters counts doubly so for the protagonist.

6. Include Act Breaks

In the modern age of commercial-free Internet streaming, writers sometimes think their pilot scripts should also be act-free (act breaks are where the commercials play). Incorrect. Always include act breaks.

There are a couple reasons for this:

  1. Act breaks represent major structural highs and lows in the plot, so leaving them out flattens these points and harms the overall flow of the story.
  2. It makes the writer look like they don’t know what they are doing, even if they do.
  3. It creates ambiguity about the script’s end goal—is it a short film? Is part of the script missing? Is it actually half of a feature screenplay?

When you aren’t there to explain it to the people reading the script, any extra uncertainties can stop your pilot’s progress dead in the water.

7. Don’t Forget the B-Story

Sometimes writers leave out or drop the B-Story in their pilot because due to lack of room. Big mistake. Don’t ever do this. Your pilot needs to have a B-Story—industry pros will be looking for it and they will notice if it’s missing. Believe it or not, so will your audience. A script with just an A-Story tends to feel hollow and like it’s missing “heart.” Remember, the B-Story is a chance to humanize your characters, keep main cast members involved in the show even when they aren’t directly involved in the A-Plot, and give the audience a breather from the main storyline. The B-Story is also a chance to loosen up and have some extra fun with the show.

8. Blueprint the Show

Your pilot script not only needs to set up the world of the show, character problems and imply future storylines, it must “blueprint” the entire show by illustrating how a normal episode will run its course. This can be tricky because you are essentially trying to pack two different episodes into one. But it’s necessary to communicate the look, feel, and overall sense of what it means to be “the show.” In recent years, well-funded projects have tackled this difficult task by creating two-part pilots (two episodes viewed back-to-back), the first part taking its time to set up the show and the second part showing what a regular episode will look like. While an ideal solution, in a spec script that’s a dicey option since it requires double the effort, double the budget to make, and thus doubles the risk of failure from an investment standpoint. So, for spec script, try splitting up the pilot into first half for setup and second half for blueprinting. Alternatively, integrate them together so we don’t notice. It’s much harder and comes with its own risks, but can payoff in the form of a solid pilot script that stands on its own.

9. Create a Show Bible

You don’t absolutely need a show bible to write a successful pilot, but it helps—a lot. Think of it as a multi-use tool where you can include all your notes and ideas about future episodes, character and story arcs, character bios, hidden and upcoming tidbits, etc. Putting all of this into a formalized document that can be shared along with the pilot shows industry execs that you are serious about your pilot, you’ve spent time developing the show beyond episode one, and that you’re thinking long-term. Having a show bible in your back pocket also allows you to cram less into your pilot (it’s written down elsewhere) and enrich your characters on screen because you’ve spent time exploring them in the bible. Don’t be fooled, creating a show bible can be an overwhelming task. Start by breaking it down into smaller bite-sized pieces, like short season/episode synopses, character roles, flaws, dreams, secrets, etc.

10. Bible First, Script Last (Outline in Between)

Writers and writing teachers often view their “writing” or tangible end product in terms of written pages. Maybe that’s the wrong approach. Try developing a show bible first and getting that really solid, create an outline of the pilot, break it down into a beat sheet, and then write the actual pilot script last. That way you’ve had more time to figure out all the little details and plotlines beforehand, so you end up with stronger pages and fewer rewrites. Once words are down on the script page, it becomes hard to “kill your darlings” and make the necessary changes. But with a show bible, outline, and beat sheet in hand, your first true “draft” resulting in pages will look far closer to a finely-polished script than you may get by going through old fashioned draft iterations.

Now that you’ve had a chance to check off the last 10 boxes, are you still ready to accept the challenge of writing that TV pilot? Hey, it’s the golden age of television right now, so maybe you should.

Working on a TV pilot? Let us know. We’d love to hear about your progress!

Need help developing or rewriting your TV pilot? Contact us today for a consultation.

books, how-to, movies, tools, TV

Subtext, Part 2: What Does Subtext Do?

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In Part 1 of our article series on subtext we began a thorough introduction to the subject. Here in Part 2 we are going to dive into greater depth on how subtext functions in storytelling. As for the specific types of subtext (and there are many), we will get to that in a future article.

So…

What does subtext actually do?

The short answer: Subtext enhances storytelling by tapping into the subconscious to make the story more memorable and more impactful. It applies to every genre and every medium.

The really short answer: Subtext helps tell a better story.

But how, exactly?

Storysci.com's illustration of how subtext creates depth in storytelling.
Subtext adds depth and dimension to your story.

Subtext Sets Tone, Atmosphere & Mood

At its most basic level, subtext communicates the overall feel of the story. This can be a subtle undertone, a collection of background mood elements, or the setting of the story itself.

For example’s sake, let’s take the following sentence, devoid of subtext:

Hawker walked through the street that night.

Now let’s add a bit of subtext in the form of mood:

Hawker pushed through the murky night, parting the dense fog like a shadow in a snow drift.

Quite a difference, isn’t there?

Take it a step further by throwing in a larger atmosphere element that recurs throughout the story. Maybe everyone Hawker passes on the streets walks briskly, arms tucked, closed off from communication, not stopping when they bump into him.

Without having to directly tell the audience anything, the added subtext communicates Hawker’s isolation and introspective defensiveness, putting him into a world where every individual must fend for oneself.

For a few real-world examples, check out:

TV: Twin Peaks
LIT: The Red Badge of Courage
FILM: Body Heat

Subtext Illustrates Story, Reduces Exposition

You’ve probably heard the mantra, “Show, don’t tell.” The idea here is to aim for illustrating story through the playing-out of conflict, desires, obstacles and goal-seeking rather than telling the audience what happens through direct exposition. Here’s where subtext comes in handy. Subtext is all about showing because it doesn’t allow you to explain things outright (“on-the-nose,” or literally as they are).

Subtext illustrates story by communicating between the lines. It’s as simple as that. Much of the time, this kind of subtext naturally arises during the storytelling process through the choices our characters make. The selflessness or selfishness of the decision in that situation expresses something about their character, and so long as the narrative doesn’t come right out and say “this is what that choice means for this character,” then the subtext happens all on its own.

This is where the superhero genre really excels: The protagonist is repeatedly put into situations where (s)he must choose between a selfish, gratifying act or a selfless, self-harming act. Subtext comes into play when the hero makes that key decision. We (the audience) know that if the hero makes a selfish choice that (s)he will be personally rewarded, but because of ignoble cowardice and/or weakness. Likewise, we implicitly know that the hero’s selfless act will come with great struggle and personal pain, and will win our admiration for doing the right thing. All of that from a choice—and we don’t even have to spell it out for the audience. They’ll get it. Audiences are smart.

Want to see this in action? Try:

TV: The Office
FILM: Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man 2
LIT: Of Mice and Men

Subtext Creates Emotional Impact

As we’ve mentioned previously, subtext communicates below the textual level, nesting itself in the pregnant quiet space beneath the surface message to create immediacy, greater meaning and emotion than would otherwise be possible. If you’ve ever seen a sitcom, then yes, you’ve seen this aspect of subtext in action.

Imagine a TV show conversation between Rock and Stone. Rock has been in love with Stone for 10 years. We’ve been following Rock and Stone’s comical near-love connection mishaps for 5 seasons now. They’ve never actually gotten together but both characters have repeatedly demonstrated their secret love and willingness to sacrifice all for each other since episode one. During the season 5 finale, Rock accidentally reveals those feelings for Stone in public while accepting an award. Embarrassed, Rock flees to hide beneath a tree. Having heard the flub, Stone finds Rock and confesses the same feelings. That fuzzy, tingly, heart-swelling moment that accompanies their first kiss? That’s right. From subtext.

But how?

The text of the moment isn’t all that interesting by itself: Stone finds Rock beneath the tree, confesses feelings and they kiss. How many times have we heard a story like that? What lends this particular situation the gravity and emotional impact is the fact that in that scene between Rock and Stone, we carry the subconscious build-up of all past 5 seasons of unrequited love. The power of everything that led to this huge payoff is the subtext. As the audience, we don’t have to be reminded of the past 5 seasons because we’ve already experienced it, so by not calling attention to that directly, we’ve avoided blocky exposition to let the subtext ride out the moment.

Additional great examples:

TV: Friends
LIT: Age of Innocence
FILM: Lord of the Rings trilogy

Subtext Adds Depth by Conveying a Greater Message

Here’s where subtext gets storytellers really excited. When your story is attempting to convey a theme, moral, or greater commentary, subtext is the most effective means to do so. Beginning storytellers tend to go straight to soapboxing—beating the idea over the audience’s head through direct exposition. This preachy/didactic approach rarely sticks with the audience for long, and can even turn them off from future connection with the story if it rubs them the wrong away. The more proper—and challenging—way to communicate higher messaging is through skillful implementation of subtext.

Returning to the idea of showing, not telling, the subtext of greater messaging emerges not in one particular moment or scene, but over the course of the longer story as the various arguments associated with that message are played out through the plot. In a high-level sense, we can call this subtextual messaging theme, but it also extends to motif, religious/political messaging, morals, commentary or criticism, warnings, thought experiments and what-if scenarios as well. The means by which subtext illustrates this greater messaging is by showing how that main idea (and its subsidiary ideas) play out through goal-seeking, obstacles and conflict, rather than coming out and telling the audience exactly what it’s doing. After all, would you rather have someone explain a painting to you or see it for yourself?

Satirical TV shows like Family Guy or South Park make use of subtext to lampoon political and religious ideas on a regular basis by putting characters into the situation they wish to comment on, and then using humor to express the desired opinion or viewpoint of the show as the situation plays out during the episode. George Orwell’s famous novels Animal Farm and 1984 both take a more serious approach, using literal situations to illustrate the dangers of communism—without ever directly saying “communism is bad.” In this way, the plot (“text”) tells a compelling story while the subplot simultaneously acts as an invisible force, forming the proverbial iceberg beneath the water and granting the plot its impact and staying-power.

Wan more real-world examples? Check out:

TV: Family Guy
LIT: 1984
FILM: Harold & Maude

Whew! That is a lot to digest—and there’s more to come! Stay tuned for Part 3: How to Use Subtext, where we will move away from theory and dig into the more practical applications of subtext in storytelling.

In the meantime, share your thoughts and favorite subtext-laden stories with us. We’d love to hear from you!

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Subtext, Part 1: What is Subtext?

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Subtext is one of the strongest, most powerful narrative tools a storyteller has in their arsenal.

That’s awesome! But what exactly is subtext?

The short answer: Information that is communicated without coming out and directly saying it.

The very short answer: What ISN’T said.

What does that mean?

Great question. Big, complicated answer.

To answer that question thoroughly, we will start by grazing the surface of subtext with Part 1 in our article series before proceeding to a deep dive into the subject. Part 2 will explore what subtext is, how it functions, and the many forms in which it can be used in significantly greater depth.

Back to the question at hand:

What is Subtext?

Subtext is many things, and nailing down a helpful description in a single phrase always falls short. The trickiness lies in the fact that subtext isn’t directly written, stated or spoken. It is the ever present invisible context inhabiting the shell we call text—that is, the underlying story beneath the outer story crust.

Like any informational source, story consists of two layers: Text and Subtext. In a conversation between two people, text represents the words each participant says to the other while subtext includes everything they aren’t saying. That doesn’t mean subtext includes everything they could possibly or potentially say in that situation, but rather the meaning behind the strategy and delivery of the text.

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Where Subtext falls in the layers of storytelling.

 

If Person A asks Person B, “Did you drive today?” The text of Person A’s question is obvious—exactly what (s)he came out and said. However, the subtext—what Person A didn’t say—is far richer and meaningful: Do I have to give you a ride today? The tone of Person A’s voice, the emotional backing and the context in which the question was asked add subtext as well. So while the text may be a simple question, the subtext alters the meaning depending on whether it was asked with a groan or with the intent of helping out a friend in need.

What Does Subtext Do?

The short answer: Subtext creates meaning.

The not-as-short answer:

Subtext represents the emotional core of your story. Not restricted by genre, medium or storyteller, subtext is the hidden power that gives the text its emotional and thematic punch. Depth and nuance are almost entirely contained in this layer of story.

A story cannot succeed without effective subtext because the text itself cannot adequately communicate meaning in a way that feels fulfilling or satisfying. The audience will notice when subtext is missing—whether they are consciously aware of it or not—because the story will feel hollow, motivations poorly formed, and characters lacking in dimension.

If Subtext is so Important, Why Do I Need Surface Text?

The short answer: You need both. Always.

The not-as-short answer:

Surface text acts as a simple vehicle to put the subtext into a context that makes it tangible, specific, and easy to understand. By itself, subtext comes across as abstract and vague. Text without subtext feels superficial and forgettable. Therefore, every story needs both subtext and text because the story will feel incomplete with only one or the other.

To review:

  • Surface text tells us what happens, not what it means.
  • Subtext tells us what it means, not what happens.
  • Text + Subtext tells us what happens and what those events mean.

How Do I Create Subtext?

The short answer: By talking around the obvious.

The not-as-short answer:

Subtext arises through restraint from revealing the mystery and explaining all, creating implication of the greater struggle that lies beneath the surface—conflict, the heart and soul of story. Basically, by not using direct exposition (text). Don’t say what you mean; say all the things that approach the subject indirectly without giving away the whole story. Think about the exposition as an aerial view of the whole forest but the audience only gets to see the trees up close at ground level. Subtext provides clues to solving the mystery without directly saying, “The butler did it.” The audience will absorb the evidence and come to that conclusion themselves, but in a way that creates a more cathartic experience because they were actively involved in the emotional journey and not just a passive participant.

A few ways to approach subtext:

  • If a character wants something in a scene, don’t let them say so. Have them employ different tactics to approach the subject indirectly without identifying the want directly.
  • If a character feels an emotion, don’t let them say exactly who they feel. Have them express or explore other secondary emotions or outward effects without dialing in on the root cause.
  • If a setting or environment evokes a certain ambiance, don’t say so. Describe it in terms of sensations, feelings, emotions and similarities without pigeonholing it with over-simplified description like “creepy” or “romantic.”

What’s Next?

We’ve only just started talking about subtext here in Part 1 of our article series. Stay tuned for Part 2: What Does Subtext Do?

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