By Melanie Anne Phillips

By necessity, authors are so focused on what they are putting into their stories that they often don’t think about what isn’t there.  Yet the early stages of story development only create a framework – a skeleton – and for a story to truly take shape, become organic, and take on a personality, many additional details will be needed.

Here’s a simple technique you can use to add depth and breadth to any story.

First, write a brief one or two sentence description of the core of your story.  For example, here’s a thumbnail description of a story my son and I for years have threatened to write:

Snow Sharks (Don’t Eat Red Snow)

Thumbnail for Snow Sharks:

The government has been developing a new breed of shark that lives in snow rather than water for use as mobile land mines in places such as Siberia or the Arctic.  A transport plane carrying them crashes in a storm high in the Rocky Mountains.

Now, we ask questions about each sentence in our thumbnail:

Questions about the first sentence:

The government has been developing a new breed of shark that lives in snow rather than water for use as mobile land mines in places such as Siberia or the Arctic.  

1. What branch of the government is involved?

2. Is this sanctioned or rogue?

3. Who is/are the scientists behind this?

4. How long has this program been going on?

5. How close are they to a final “product?”

6. Can the sharks breathe air?

7. Do they require cold (can they live in heat)?

Questions about the second sentence:

A transport plane carrying them crashes in a storm high in the Rocky Mountains.

1. What kind of plane?

2. How many sharks was it carrying?

3. Do they all survive?

4. Where was the transport taking the sharks?

5. Why couldn’t they wait until after the storm?

6. How many crewmembers are on board?

7. What are their jobs?

8. Do the crew members know what they are carrying?

9. Do any sharks survive?

10. If so, do the sharks kill all the survivors?

11. Is there anything in the wreckage that reveals the cargo, its nature and who is behind it?

12. Is the crew able to contact their command center before crashing?

13. Are they able to convey their location?

14. Is there a rescue beacon?

15. Does the plane carry a “black box.”

As you can see, each question is like a thread you can pull – a story thread that can open up a whole new aspect of your plot progression and character arcs.

If you were to answer each of these questions, your story would expand from that simple two-sentence thumbnail into a much richer story.

Then, you could ask questions about each sentence in the new, expanded story and grow it even larger very quickly.

If you already have a story, be it just an outline, a short synopsis, or even a complete draft, asking questions like these about key expositional sentences in your manuscript can help offer alternatives to what may be a cliche story line, or to add more detail or subordinate plot lines that enrich the fabric of your overall story.

In summary, the point is that you don’t have to bang your head against a blank page trying to come up with ideas.  Just tear your story apart with as many questions as you might reasonable ask, and it will grow like baseless rumor on the internet.

Need personalized story help?

Try my story consultation service for free!

Email me about your story, one page or less,
and I’ll give you some initial feedback and
create a customized story development plan.

By Melanie Anne Phillips

It is easier to come up with many ideas than it is to come up with one idea.

Now that may sound counter-intuitive, but consider this… When you are working on a particular story and you run into a specific structural problem, you are looking for a creative inspiration in a very narrow area. But creativity isn’t something you can control like a power tool or channel onto a task. Rather, it is random, and applies itself to whatever it wants.

Creative inspiration is always running at full tilt within us, coming up with new ideas, thinking new thoughts – just not the thoughts we are looking for. So if we sit and wait for the Muse to shine its light on the exact structural problem we’re stuck on, it might be days before lightning strikes that very spot.

Fortunately, we can trick Creativity into working on our problem by making it think it is being random. As an example, consider this log line for a story: A Marshall in an Old West border town struggles with a cutthroat gang that is bleeding the town dry.

Step One: Asking Questions

Now if you had the assignment to sit down and turn this into a full-blown, interesting, one-of-a-kind story, you might be a bit stuck for what to do next. So, try this. First ask some questions:

1. How old is the Marshall?

2. How much experience does he have?

3. Is he a good shot?

4. How many men has he killed (if any)

5. How many people are in the gang?

6. Does it have a single leader?

7. Is the gang tight-knit?

8. What are they taking from the town?

9. How long have they been doing this?

You could probably go on and on and easily come up with a hundred questions based on that single log line. It might not seem at first that this will help you expand your story, but look at what’s really happened. You have tricked your Muse into coming up with a detailed list of what needs to be developed! And it didn’t even hurt. In fact, it was actually fun.

Step Two: Answering Questions

But that’s just the first step. Next, take each of these questions and come up with as many different answers as you can think of. Let your Muse run wild through your mind. You’ll probably find you get some ordinary answers and some really outlandish ones, but you’ll absolutely get a load of them!

  a) How old is the Marshall?

a. 28

b. 56

c. 86

d. 17

e. 07

f. 35

Some of these potential ages are ridiculous – or are they? Every ordinary story based on such a log line would have the Marshall be some common age from our example list, such as 28 or 35: just another dull story, grinding through the mill.

Step One Revisited

But what if your Marshall was 86 or 7 years old? Let’s switch back to Step One and ask some questions about his age.

For example:

c. 86

1. How would an 86 year old become a Marshall?

2. Can he still see okay?

3. What physical maladies plague him?

4. Is he married?

5. What kind of gun does he use?

6. Does he have the respect of the town?

And on and on…

Return to Step Two

As you might expect, now we switch back to Step Two again and answer each question as many different ways as we can.

Example:

5. What kind of gun does he use?

a) He uses an ancient musket, can barely lift it, but is a crack shot and miraculously hits whatever he aims at.

b) He uses an ancient musket and can’t hit the broad side of a barn. But somehow, his oddball shots ricochet off so many things, he gets the job done anyway, just not as he planned.

c) He uses a Mini-Gatling gun attached to his walker.

d) He doesn’t use a gun at all. In 63 years with the Texas Rangers, he never needed one and doesn’t need one now.

e) He uses a sawed off shotgun, but needs his deputy to pull the trigger for him as he aims.

f) He uses a whip.

g) He uses a knife, but can’t throw it past 5 feet anymore.

And on and on again…

Methinks you begin to get the idea. First you ask questions, which trick the Muse into finding fault with your work – an easy thing to do that your Creative Spirit already does on its own – often to your dismay.

Next, you turn the Muse loose to come up with as many answers for each question as you possibly can.

Then, you switch back to question mode and ask as many as you can about each of your answers.

And then you come up with as many answers as possible for those questions.

You can carry this process out for as many generations as you like, but the bulk of story material you develop will grow so quickly, you’ll likely not want to go much further than we went in our example.

Imagine, if you just asked 10 questions about the original log line and responded to each of them with 10 potential answers, you’d have 100 story points to consider.

Then, if you went as far as we just did for each one, you’d ask 10 questions of each answer and end up with 1,000 potential story points. And the final step of 10 answers for each of these would yield 10,000 story points!

Now in the real world, you probably won’t bother answering each question – just those that intrigue you. And, you won’t trouble yourself to ask questions about every answer – just the ones that suggest they have more development to offer and seem to lead in a direction you might like to go with your story.

The key point is that rather than staring at a blank page trying to find that one structural solution that will fill a gap or connect two points, use the Creativity Two-Step to trick your Muse into spewing out the wealth of ideas it naturally wants to provide.

Need personalized story help?

Try my story consultation service for free!

Email me about your story, one page or less,
and I’ll give you some initial feedback and
create a customized story development plan.

Some stories are driven by actions.  Others are forced along by decisions.  All stories have some degree of both.  This question determines which one “triggers” the other, but does not determine the ratio between the two.

If actions that occur in your story determine the types of decisions that need to be made, choose Action.  If decisions or deliberations that happen in your story precipitate the actions that follow, choose Decision.

THEORY:  Action or Decision describes how the story is driven forward.  The question is: Do Actions precipitate Decisions or vice versa?

Every story revolves around a central issue, but that central issue only becomes a problem when an action or a decision sets events into motion.  If an action gets things going, then many decisions may follow in response.  If a decision kicks things off, then many actions may follow until that decision has been accommodated.

The Action/Decision relationship will repeat throughout the story.  In an Action story, decisions will seem to resolve the problem until another action gets things going again.  Decision stories work the same way.  Actions will get everything in line until another decision breaks it all up again.

Similarly, at the end of a story there will be an essential need for an action to be taken or a decision to be made.  Both will occur, but one of them will be the roadblock that must be removed in order to enable the other.

Whether Actions or Decisions move your story forward, the Story Driver will be seen in the instigating and concluding events, forming bookends around the dramatics.

USAGE:  The choice of Driver does not have to reflect the nature of the Main Character.  In fact, some very interesting dramatic potentials can be created when the Story Driver and the Main Character Approach do not match.

For example, a Main Character who is a Do-er forced to handle a decision-type problem would find himself at a loss for the experience and tools he needs to do the job.  Similarly, a deliberating Main Character who is a Be-er would find himself whipped into a turmoil if forced to resolve a problem requiring action.  These mixed stories appear everywhere from tragedy to comedy and can add an extra dimension to an otherwise one-sided argument.

Do Actions precipitate Decisions, or do Decisions precipitate Actions?  Since a story has both, it is really an issue of which comes first: chicken or egg?  In the context of a single story, there is a real answer to this question.  As an author, you can decide which it will be.

This tip was excerpted from:

Click for details

Some novice writers become so wrapped up in interesting events and bits of action that they forget to have a central unifying goal that gives purpose to all the other events that take place.  This creates a plot without a core.

But determining your story’s goal can be difficult, especially if your story is character oriented, and not really about a Grand Quest.

For example, in the movie “Four Weddings and a Funeral,” all the characters are struggling with their relationships and not working toward an apparent common purpose.  There is a goal, however, and it is to find happiness in a relationship.

This type of goal is called a “Collective Goal” since it is not about trying to achieve the same thing, but the same KIND of thing.

So don’t try to force some external, singular purpose on your story if it isn’t appropriate.  But do find the common purpose in which all your characters share a critical interest.

This tip was excerpted from:

Click here for details or to purchase

A writer recently asked:

I am writing a Saul-to-Paul story whereby my protagonist begins the story with one goal in mind (i.e., persecution of a particular people on behalf of a dictator), but at some point through the story, he is persuaded to switch sides and overthrow the dictator.

Should my storyform reflect my protagonist’s initial goal or his later goal?

My reply:

It is important to separate the Main Character’s journey of growth from the protagonist’s journey to achieve a goal, even if a single character is both Main Character and Protagonist.

What changes in a Saul to Paul story is the Main Character’s attitude as to what is right and what is wrong.

In this case, the goal might be to do what is right, and his idea of “right” is what changes, but his goal to do “right” does not.

Melanie
Storymind.com

Start with any sentence in your text, be it back story, something about your character or plot or even the outline of a scene.

Example: The dog ran over the hedge.

Now, ask as many intelligent, relevant questions about that sentence as you can (within reason).

Example: What kind of dog? How old is the dog? Does the dog have any physical deformities? What color is the dog? Does the dog have fleas? Does the dog have a collar? How fast was the dog running? Where did we first see the dog? Was it running then, or did it start? Why was the dog running (did it see something)? Was it running at something or away from something or just running? Was it running in a straight line? Did it have to jump to get over the hedge? How far above the hedge was it? Was it more like running through the hedge, than over it? What kind of plant is the hedge? How tall it is? How thick is it? Does the hedge look healthy and well-watered? Is the hedge trimmed and neat or unruly? What is the shape of the hedge? How wide is the hedge from side to side? Where is the hedge – a yard, an open field, between two walls in the inner city? Is the hedge on private property, and if so, what kind? Is the hedge flowering? Are there any bugs in or around the hedge? Is there anything hiding in the hedge? Are there any other dogs running? Are there any other animals or people present? How long does the dog run for? What happens when he stops?

Okay, you get the idea. By actually writing down these questions, rather than just trying to hold them in my head, I can now go back to each one and consider it separately, as one more potential piece of information to add to my original text.

Now if I have the answer right up front, already devised, or if it just comes to me as soon as I ask the question, then I can just add that answer right into to my text.

Example: What kind of dog? A Sheltie. Revised original sentence, “The Sheltie ran over the hedge.”

Now, a different vision comes to mind when the sentence is read and it alters the reader experience as well as enriching the story-in-progress.

But, if you don’t have an answer in mind, then let your Muse run wild and come up with a bunch of different answers, again within reason, so that you can then pick among the options for the most interesting choice.

Example: What kind of dog? Sheltie, Beagle, Bull Dog, Pit Bull, Poodle.

Now I have a choice, and each different option creates a completely different mind-picture and also leads the story into slightly different directions. So, I just pick the one I want to use and put that in the story.

Example, What kind of dog? A Pit Bull. Revised original sentence, “The Pit Bull ran over the hedge.”

Now this sentences takes on a whole different flavor than “The Sheltie ran over the hedge,” and it also provides more information and a deeper reader experience than, “The dog ran over the hedge.”

Last point – after you have answered all the questions and then revised your original sentence accordingly, you’ll probably find you have a paragraph of many sentences about that little bit of action. If that is enough development, you stop there. But if you still thinks your story still needs more richness and detail, then simply take each sentence of the newly revised version and start asking questions again. Go back and forth as many times as you need to expand any part of your story as far as you want it to go.

It is a simple technique, but a sure-fire powerful one. Just by taking the process out of your head and writing it down, question by question and answer by answer, your mind becomes clear, your Muse becomes free, and your story grows in leaps and bounds.

The Master Storyteller Method has four parts:

Part One: Create A Story World

What is a story world? Think: the world of Harry Potter or the Star Wars universe. Whether you are planning a single story or a whole series, creating a diverse and detailed story world will enrich and inform each story you draw from it.

Part Two: Draw Out Your Storyline

While a story world describes the environment, situation, and issues that will define your story, it is not a story itself. Drawing on this material, you will create a storyline for your Main Character / Protagonist that will begin with something that upsets the status quo, follows a quest (both personal and logistic) and concludes with a choice that will determine success or failure.

Part Three: Incorporate Story Points

Though your storyline may make sense and feel as it it touches all the bases, often a number of important story points may be missing, hidden behind the passion of your storytelling and vision. Here you will refer to a complete list of essential story points ranging from the goal of the protagonist to the issue at the heart of the story’s moral dilemma to ensure that every crucial dramatic element is not only included, but fully integrated into the natural flow of your story.

Part Four:  Refine Your Structure

Even if you have every essential story point represented, it does not necessarily mean that they are all working together toward the same dramatic purpose. In this part of the Master Storyteller Method, you’ll plot your story points against a unique structural template to determine where some of your dramatic elements may be working against each other or where holes and inconsistencies in your structure may exist. You’ll have the opportunity to choose which story points you’d like to adjust to make your story more structurally sound and which you wish to leave as they are because they work so well as is at a passionate level.

By the time you have completed the Master Story Method, your story will be passionately expressive and structurally sound. Your characters will be compelling, your plot riveting, your them involving, and your genre not quite like any other.