Obstacles create conflict. Conflict is the engine of plot. Plot creates the crucible in which your hero is squeezed into confronting the inner demons they don’t want to face. And that internal confrontation is what makes a story.

Years ago, I had a student in my AP World History class, who, despite seeming interested in the class, never submitted any homework. It was tanking her grade. Hoping to solve this no-homework spiral, I pulled her aside and asked what she did after school most days.

“Most days, I get home from school and start reading a book. And then I can’t stop reading the book. I keep reading until I finish, and by then it’s the middle of the night, and I’m tired, so I go to bed.”

If you mix flour and water, you get glue.

If you add some salt and yeast to that slurry, your glue suddenly becomes bread dough.

Writing is similar to bread-baking in that way. There are just a few basic ingredients but infinite flavor and texture possibilities. And, also like baking bread, if you miss out on one of those ingredients, or the ingredients aren’t included in just the right ratio, the whole thing can fall apart.

Here’s a conversation starter for your New Year’s Eve party: Ferris Bueller is not the main character of classic John Hughes film Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

The real main character is Cameron Frye. Ferris is simply the catalyst and narrator of Cameron’s story.

Who is telling this story?

The unreliable narrator is a popular trope, especially in thrillers.

I totally get it: it is delightfully shocking as a reader to discover part way through the book that the person telling you this story has been lying all along.

Here’s the thing.

All narrators are unreliable, to a certain extent. Because all narrators filter the story through their own experiences and only show the reader what you, the author, want them to see in any given moment. Picking your narrator is an important choice. Here are just some of the options you can consider when choosing your narrator and point of view.

Plot is what happens. Story is how the plot affects your main character.

Although stories usually center the way one major character changes, what gives the story heart and emotional resonance is that hero’s relationships to other characters. Creating strong emotional attachments between your hero and other characters can do so much for your story.

It creates backstory for why your character has their misbelief.

It creates plot adhesive explaining why your character can’t walk away from the plot.

It creates internal and external stakes with high emotional intensity.

Picture the scene:

A seventeen-year-old girl wants to participate in a dangerous motorcycle race across the desert. (Think Dakar Rally meets Mad Max.) There’s obstacles in her way, though. For one thing, she has to be 18 to race, or else get her parents to sign a waiver – but the race is famous for fatal crashes so there is no way in H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks her parents are giving their permission. So now, she’s creating an elaborate ruse to fake the permission form and/or using a fake identity and a disguise to enter the race.

Stories are fundamentally about change.

A change should occur in every single scene of your novel.

At the end of your story, your character (in most cases) should be a changed person.

If things aren’t changing, your reader is likely to get bored and walk away.

How do you keep your reader up at night unable to put your book down? How do you write a story that is so good, your reader raves to all their friends about it?

In previous posts, I’ve argued that your story should have a point, like a thesis statement that gives focus to your work. The way you will communicate this point is through the transformation of your main character. To paraphrase Lisa Cron, plot is what happens. Story is how the plot affects your character.

Just like your story will have more focus if there is one salient point, your story will also be more focused if you have one character who the story is primarily about. But how do you know who your main character is?

It might be your narrator, but not always

It might be the person who sets the story in motion, but not always

A good candidate for a main character is someone who…

Sometimes, my life as a book coach/ writer and my life as a high school history teacher collide in spectacular ways. I happened to be writing some newsletter content about why heroes need story goals at around the same time that I was teaching my world history students about Buddhism. And it occurred to me that the central teachings of Buddhism (also called the 4 Noble Truths) can be applied to story craft.

In recent posts, I’ve pressed you to consider your audience’s pain points, even if you’re writing something light and fun. Now you’re going to take the emotional experience you want your reader to have and distill it into a short statement of what you are trying to say with your book.

Think of it as like a thesis statement for your novel.

I think most of us like the feeling of writing in a flow state. When words are just pouring out of your brain and onto the page like a gift from another dimension. It feels good to produce. I also think for most of us, this kind of writing flow is a rare visitor, that most of the time, writing is a grind. But, because we know what it feels like to have words coming out of the pen faster than we can put it to paper, we’re chasing that high. And any time we aren’t writing in flow (i.e. most of the time), we might feel a bit broken.

It is a strange irony that many of the funniest people on the planet struggle deeply with depression. Many of us turn to comedy when we want something “fun” or “light” – and yet, the most beloved comedies, the ones we return to over and over again, are the ones that do more than tickle our funny bone. They’re the ones that make us feel something. Something deep.