All Things Writing

Dumping ground for reblogs of all things related to writing, publishing, and research.

[the-soot-sprite]

Writing Resources: WORDS ARE HARD

60 Synonyms for “Walk”

A list of sounds/onomatopoeias for writers

American vs British terms

Descriptionary

Insult names to use instead of "idiot”

Looking for a word you can’t remember

OneLook Reverse Dictionary

One look thesaurus

Power Thesaurus

Researching for WIPs : A Collection

Reverse Dictionary

Synonyms for Very

Using the appropriate vocabulary in your novel

Wild vs feral

Words to use instead of: cry/cried/crying

Writing websites

[novlr]

How do I make a calm and collected character in a very overwhelming situation?

Writing a character who remains composed when everything around them is falling apart is a hard thing to do, especially since I’m sure a lot of us don’t feel that way when we’re in tricky situations. My significant other is cool as a cucumber when something is genuinely stressful, and I’m in constant awe of his ability to just be calm and take charge.

When it comes to writing a calm character in an overwhelming situation, the balancing act comes when you want them to feel grounded and in control, but not so detached that they seem robotic or unfeeling. The trick is understanding that being calm isn’t an absence of emotion; it’s managing those emotions in a way that serves the situation they’re in.

Understand where their calm comes from

Before you can write a calm character convincingly, you need to understand why they’re calm. Their composure ought to have a source. Does their calm come from:

Training or experience? Military personnel, emergency responders, or anyone who has faced repeated crises may have learned to compartmentalise and therefore find it easier to remain calm in situations outside of their normal experiences.

Personality? Some people are naturally less reactive and process their emotions internally rather than externally.

A coping mechanism? Their calm might be a learned defence against trauma or chaos in their past.

Responsibility? They may stay calm for others because someone has to, and they’ve taken on that role.

Neurodivergence? Many neurodivergent people may panic or stress at the little things in their lives, but when something genuinely big and dramatic happens, they’re suddenly calm and collected as adrenaline and dopamine flood their systems.

Understanding the root of why they are calm will help you write it authentically because those reasons will feed into their entire characterisation. It will feel genuine in the moment because you really know your characters.

Separate internal experiences from external behaviour

What a character shows and what they feel are not always the same thing. Even the most composed person experiences physiological stress responses that might not be visible to others. Their bodies react even if their behaviour doesn’t.

You can show this through:

Physical sensations like a racing heart, a tight chest, or icy hands.

Controlled breathing to ensure they have a strong and calm voice when they speak.

Micro-reactions like a brief pause, tightening their jaw, or a moment where their eyes flicker before they respond.

An internal monologue that lets readers into their head where the storm is happening, even as they appear calm externally.

Duality helps to create tension and makes characters feel three-dimensional rather than emotionless. Just because other characters can’t see the emotions doesn’t mean that someone doesn’t experience them. It can also make a good revelation later on down the line if someone misinterprets a calm character as cold and distant.

Use their actions to show competence

Calm characters often show their composure by doing rather than feeling. When chaos erupts, they act. They do things deliberately and with calculation. You can show them:

Assessing the situation methodically.

Prioritising what needs to happen first.

Giving clear, steady instructions to others.

Focusing on solutions rather than dwelling on the problem.

Stepping up to take charge, whether it is reluctantly or unasked.

Use strategic cracks in their facade

To make your composed character feel real, build in moments where their control slips, even just a little. This might look like:

A sharp edge to their voice that they quickly smooth over.

Hands that stay calm but finally start to tremble when the crisis is over.

A private moment where they come close to a breakdown.

Delayed emotional reactions that surface later.

Moments of vulnerability make a character’s composure more impressive. Readers will understand that their calm is earned and doesn’t come without effort.

[writerswritecompany]

How To Find Your Story’s Theme In 3 Simple Steps 

This post is all about theme. We will explore the definition of a theme, give you examples of themes, and go through three steps that will help you find the theme in your story.

How To Find Your Story’s Theme In 3 Simple Steps

What is a theme? Learn what a story theme is and how to find it. Use these three simple steps to uncover the deeper meaning behind your nove

[motherfuckingshakespeare]

A HANDY CHART FOR THOSE OF YOU WONDERING WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH THESE. NOTE THAT THESE ARE ALL THE INFORMAL AND YOU IS THE FORMAL SO LIKE YOU WOULD ALWAYS ADDRESS YOUR SUPERIOR/ OLDER PERSON/ SOCIAL BETTER WITH YOU BUT WITH YOUR BUDS YOU CAN USE THESE. 

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

the dialogue attribution trap

okay so there are three types of writers when it comes to dialogue tags.

the first type writes this:

"i can't believe you did that," she exclaimed breathlessly, her voice trembling with barely concealed emotion.

the second type writes this:

"i can't believe you did that," she said. "i just — i can't." "i know," he said. "do you?" she said. "yeah," he said.

and the third type has been told "said is invisible" so many times they've started doing this:

"i can't believe you did that," she whispered-yelled, her eyes flashing.

all three of these are wrong. (sorry.)

this is what's actually happening in each case.

1. the purple tagger

"you BETRAYED me," he snarled furiously.

the problem isn't the snarl. the problem is furiously. if he's snarling, we know he's not delighted. the adverb is doing work the verb already did, which means you don't trust your own writing. and your reader can feel that.

also: people cannot hiss words that don't have an s in them. "i love you," she hissed. no she didn't. she CAN'T have.

fix: one strong verb OR one adverb. never both. and only when said genuinely doesn't cut it.

2. the said-only purist

said IS invisible. that's true. but a page of nothing but "said" in a tense scene creates this weird flat affect where everything feels equally weighted. the invisibility is the problem, not the solution.

"get out," she said.

versus

"get out." she didn't look up from the counter.

the second one has no attribution at all. we know who's talking. and now we know she's not even giving him the dignity of eye contact. that's CHARACTER. that's free.

action beats do more work than tags. use them.

3. the said-is-dead convert

this one genuinely pains me because it usually comes from good advice received badly. someone told you to vary your tags, and now your characters are interjecting, conceding, deflecting, and sighing their dialogue like a victorian novel.

"we need to leave," he urged. "i'm not ready," she hedged.

hedged. HEDGED. what is she, a financial advisor.

the rule isn't "never use said." the rule is: your tag should disappear, and the line itself should carry the weight. if you need urged to tell me he's urgent, the line isn't doing its job.

the actual framework (one sentence)

ask yourself: does this tag add information the line doesn't already have, or am I patching a weak line with a strong verb?

if it's patching, rewrite the line.

- rin t. ✨

Hey tumblr, a close friend of mine and her family are going through a really difficult time right now. I don't usually share things like this, but seeing what she's been facing, especially alongside her mother and siblings, has been heartbreaking. her mother just created it and asked me to share it!

If you're able to donate to her GoFundMe to help prevent their eviction, it would mean so much. If not, sharing is appreciated too. ❤️:

Donate to Help My Family Stay Safe and Housed, organized by Leandra m

Since 2022, my family and I have faced homelessness on and off, struggling to find stabi… Leandra m needs your support for Help My Family St

[writerswritecompany]

Why Embracing Your Inner Madness Makes You A Better Writer

You don’t have to be crazy to be a writer, but using your imagination and embracing unusual ideas can help you become a more creative and interesting storyteller.

[writerswritecompany]

What Is A Story Goal? The Secret To A Strong Plot 

Learn what a story goal is and why it matters so much in fiction writing.

[miyuliart]

Trying to figure out how to draw armour. These are some of my notes I uploaded on patreon. A lot more to come since I really want to figure this one out.

[gupdoo3]

@anim-ttrpgs

[anim-ttrpgs]

This is a great reference for mid-15th-century plate armor. I'm going to add a few things that aren't meant as corrections but rather, like, additional info.

That type of bevor seen in the first picture wouldn't usually go with an armet-style helmet, but rather with a helmet without its own built-in neck protection, such as (what is neologically called) a sallet or kettle helm.

If you wanted to get more neck protection out of an armet, you'd use what is usually called a "wrapper plate" which is kind of similar to a bevor but shaped to fit armets.

Arming jackets/doublets (usually also called gambesons - the thing about the Middle Ages is that they didn't actually have a lot of standardized words for things at all and many words we use today to refer to specific pieces of equipment are either completely new, or they refer to something specific today but a medieval person would have used the same word to refer to many different things) have strings all over them not just to keep them tied together but because that's how you attach the plate armor to the body. Their padding also not only acts as padding, but also offers some basic resistance to blades in the event that a blade gets between the plates and through the maille (chainmail) armor that usually fills the gaps between the plates. There is almost no chance at all of a blade penetrating the plates themselves.

Bigger thicker gambesons were worn as a form of armor themselves for poorer soldiers who couldn't afford anything better. They are surprisingly cut-resistant and cushion the body against blunt force as well. Stabbing weapons will go straight through them, but even then it's better to have it than not, because if you're wearing 2 inches of padding and get stabbed by a 5-inch blade in the heat of battle when everyone is constantly moving around and your opponent has no time (or desire) to drive it all the way in, that's only 3 inches deep into your actual flesh instead of 5.

Oh one tip I will give that technically is a correction is that that belt in the bottom-left picture is anachronistic. It's hard to describe how 15th century belts buckle but it usually looks something like this.

[writerswritecompany]

Secrets Of A Memoirist: How To Write Your Life Story

Have you always wanted to write your memoir but didn’t know where to begin? Do you wonder if you have the discipline to finish – or even if you have a story worth telling?

Secrets of a Memoirist: How to Write a Memoir answers these questions and more. This practical course clears away the confusion, removes common obstacles, and gives you a clear structure to follow. You’ll learn a simple, step-by-step process to transform your life experiences into a compelling, publishable memoir.

[pheita]

Memo to everybody :

Never be afraid to recycle an idea you had for a WIP you abandoned. Sometimes the idea needs a different set of characters or a different setting.

[indecisive-behaviors]

An addition:

Never be afraid to recycle an idea you had for a project you already completed. Sometimes ideas really are just that good and deserve to be used more than once.

[mytrinketsandknickknacks]

Don't be afraid to use the same recipe to make a new cake

[mumblingsage]

Using a Reverse Outline to Understand Your First Draft’s Structure Before Editing

I've been using versions of this tool for years, for both my own self-editing and when I work as a developmental editor for clients. Now I'd like to share a template and a hopefully not-too-long explanation of ways you can work with it!

First off: congratulations on finishing a draft of your story! Now, as you get ready to revise it into a second, improved draft, it helps to see what the story is currently shaped like. Even if you aren’t a “planner” who outlines stories before writing them, you can benefit from a reverse outline after completing the story. It's lower-pressure and often easier than a planning outline because you just need to describe what you’ve already written. In fact, writing about your story can be pretty fun! And it will give you a sense of direction and increased confidence as you begin editing.

A reverse outline can be as simple or as detailed as you like. I’m going to give directions (and a sample file) for a fairly detailed one, which you can use as-is if it works for you, or adapt to be simpler, or adapt to include additional elements if that’s better for your process.

Here's the link to the reverse outline template in Drive. I've filled out the first few rows with example information from one of my own stories. Please go ahead and make a copy for your own use! One tip: under the "View" tab, there's an option to "Freeze" columns or rows so they move with you as you scroll in the file. I've already frozen the top row; you may also want to freeze columns A and B for ease of reference when you scroll horizontally. There are quite a few columns, and you don’t need to use all of them at once—different elements are more relevant to different writers and in different stories. In the rest of this post, I’ll explain what each column can do for you.

(The second tab of the file includes a sample reverse outline for nonfiction, with examples from a book of advice on editing that I'm writing at the moment and which this post may become a chapter in. Exactly what columns you’ll want in a nonfiction reverse outline will depend on your overall structure. Narrative nonfiction and memoir use similar techniques as fiction and could benefit from the standard reverse outline.)

Column A: Chapter number and title, scene

Some writers make their reverse outlines chapter-by-chapter, but since each chapter can include multiple scenes, and each scene deserves TLC, let’s give each scene a row.

(My reverse outline sample is for one of my short story collections, so I've given the title of the short story instead of a chapter number. Again, the template is adaptable!)

Among other benefits, filling out this column shows if you've acquired two Chapter 20s by accident. Or if you've given some chapters too-similar titles. Or if one chapter has way more scenes, or way fewer, than any other—which isn’t necessarily a problem, just something to observe right now.

While I’m giving advice: using the “Heading” style to mark your chapter titles/numbers makes it easier to find things your manuscript. Headings get their own space in the Navigation toolbar that comes up when you hit “Control + F” in Microsoft Word or click the “Document Tabs” option in Google Drive.

Column B: Action summary

Write about what happens in the scene. How much detail to include depends on your personal taste and memory. You don’t want to crowd the box with information or take a very long time at this. But it can be useful to spell out not just what happens, but some of why it happens and what results. This helps you follow the chain of logic and spot where links might be weak or missing.

A quick example of how an action summary can include cause and effect: “Overhearing Jason’s phone call, Miranda begins to suspect he was involved in the murder. She confronts him, he denies everything, and he leaves the house and doesn’t come back that night.” If you feel comfortable with shorter action summaries, you might just write this as “Miranda confronts Jason about the murder. He leaves.”

If you're going to write a synopsis to query this novel to literary agents or publishers, the reverse outline can help you get started. (I made my first reverse outlines for synopsis-writing purposes, before adapting them for other uses as both a writer and a freelance editor.) It accomplishes the major step of turning a novel into a few pages. You’ll still need to edit those few pages into something shorter and smoother, and I'd write the actual synopsis after you've given the book a structural edit, since elements of the plot may change in the process!

Speaking of summary, if the action in the story draft is told in narrative summary rather than shown as it happens, it’s often helpful to make a note of this. Summary has its uses: it can convey a lot to the reader quickly and it adds variety to pacing. Whether you have too much narrative summary or too little is something to consider once you have the outline filled out.

Column C: Scene wordcount

Use words, not number of pages, because the same amount of words can fit on more or fewer pages with different formatting. In publishing and professional editing, there’s still the convention that 1 page = 250 words, but in my experience, 12-point Times New Roman font that’s double spaced often fits 300+ words onto a page.

Column D: Cumulative wordcount

I’ve entered a formula here to sum up column C to the current row. This gives you a sense of when each scene takes place on the scale of the story, and also how your pacing is. (You can click the corner of a cell and drag it down to extend the formula as you add more scenes.)

That's the simplest version.

If you just want to fill in the first three columns and let the formula fill out the fourth for you, that gives you a one-sheet "map" of your story that can make the full manuscript easier to navigate, and it can be sufficient to get started on evaluating your story. But you’re missing half the fun.

Column E: POV character

To avoid both reader and writer confusion, I recommend sticking to one POV per scene. Some editors and publishers insist on it. But if you want to risk omniscient POV, that can go here too.

This column reveals when POV changes and whose perspective we spend the most time in. In one story I’m working on, I've added notes in this column about alternative POVs I could narrate the scene from, if I decide to change things up in the second draft. You don’t need to divide POV equally among all your characters, even if you have multiple protagonists. However, if one POV evaporates from the story partway through, or one takes over a long stretch of chapters, it’s good to spot this. And readers may be distracted if you have one or two scenes that make atypical POV choices without clear reason.

Columns F and G: Location; Date and time

These may help you catch continuity errors, like if a character returns home from the same trip twice, a minor character is in two places at once, or a particular evening in August winds up way too busy.

Column G is especially helpful for stories that span a long time—or a very short time. Even if you don’t have exact dates, a note such as “three days after the previous scene” can help avoid logistical tangles. (When timeline is especially important to a story, some writers fill out a virtual or physical calendar with their story events. You can often get print calendars for the previous year cheaply at an office supply or stationary store in January/February.)

If your story takes place in a single location or timeline is not a big concern, you don’t need to use these columns—this reverse outline is always customizable!

Column H: Plot and subplots advanced

There’s a lot going on in a story, and often a lot going on at the same time. This column lets you track where and when different plotlines are developed. You may find it useful to label your plots and subplots with categories like “External” (dealing with the world around the protagonist), “Internal" (psychological change that drives character arcs), or “Interpersonal” (rivalry, romance, and more).

Column I: Conflict of the scene and character desires

Conflict doesn’t have to be violent or flashy. But stories generally include a goal and some friction that prevents the goal from being met. In this way, desire and conflict are often closely connected.

If nobody wanted things to change, there wouldn’t be much to write a story about. If everyone immediately got the change they desire, the story would be very short. Adding friction will make events feel more realistic and engaging to readers. Conflict creates suspense: if there are opposing forces, we can’t predict who will win (or how they’ll manage to win, even if we trust the story will end well for a character). Conflict also lets you explore multiple sides of a situation or theme.

Depending on how you fill out the action summary in Column B, you might cover much of this information there. But I suggest filling out Column I for at least a few scenes to get the hang of evaluating conflict and motivation. If these are missing, a scene can feel directionless and emotionally flat.

Splitting information across multiple columns can also prevent any one part of the outline from getting too swollen. Especially if you write long or action-packed scenes, you may find yourself writing a lot in each cell. A few solutions: one, you may prioritize only the most significant developments of each scene. You can always come back and add more information later. Two, you may realize a scene would work better as two shorter or simpler scenes. (Though don't do this just because it's busy in the outline: consider how the scene itself reads in the story.) Three, you may adapt the outline to give each scene multiple rows evaluating different elements. Just put the wordcount in column C as 0 for the added rows, and it won’t mess up the cumulative wordcount formula (I've given an example in the template).

If the protagonist does get what they want, you’ve either reached the happy ending of the story (or at least a subplot) or you need to give them something else to want, another itch to satisfy. Maybe solving one problem makes them realize there’s an additional problem. Or it’s a question of short-term vs long-term goals: Frodo has made it to Rivendell, but then he takes on the new goal of reaching Mordor.

Column J: Reader emotional response

One reason we write stories is because we want to make people feel things. Here’s where you can talk about what you want the reader to feel. This gives you ideas for what to punch up and enhance in revisions. If you want them to be sad, what is the line they’ll start crying on?If you want them to be hopeful, what should they hope for and why will they feel hope that it will happen?

You may update this column after getting beta reader feedback on an early draft (but not a first draft—the first draft is for you): where and how did your beta react? Was it the way you hoped for, or were there surprises? You could even ask your beta reader to fill out a version of this chart.

Column K: Questions raised or intensified

A powerful emotion to draw readers in is curiosity. And every story will involve some exposition and explanation as we learn about the characters, the setting, and the plotline. Some writers use the term Dramatic Question or Narrative Question to refer to the single biggest and most crucial question that keeps the story going. Once that single question is answered, the story wraps up. Others use the term Story Questions for the various mysteries on different scales that keep readers turning pages—and not just in mystery novels. Whatever you call them, you can track in this column the questions you expect readers to ask with each scene.

In general, when a question is answered, a new, larger or more intense one should take its place. Or the answer to a still-lingering question becomes more urgent. By the end of the story, the majority of questions are answered. You may include a sequel hook, and writers often leave some small, tantalizing details open-ended to make a story feel more realistic, more vivid, or more haunting—or because we don’t have space to chase down every loose end. But if your biggest questions aren’t resolved, the story doesn’t feel over.

I find story questions hugely exciting because curiosity is what most often sucks me in as a reader. But a story isn’t just an intellectual exercise. It’s fatal if a reader ever decides, “I don’t care about learning the answer to this question.” Make sure your other columns are providing reasons for readers to care (especially column J).

You don't want this column to be empty. But you may not want it to get too full, either. It’s possible to draw out a question for too long, leaving readers confused or frustrated. It’s also possible to raise too many questions to easily keep track of. If they’re asking too much and learning too little, some readers might give up on ever finding answers. So be sure to consider both new questions and the weight of the questions already hanging over the readers' (and characters') heads.

As for where to track the answers, it’s dealer’s choice—you could put them in this column, or the answers might be described as part of the action summary or another column. Use this outline in a way that matches how you think, since it's organizing your story.

This is another column it can be useful to ask your beta readers to fill out (or "What questions do you have at the end of this chapter?" could be something to ask them in another format.) You may be surprised by what piques your readers' curiosity!

To reiterate, the mysteries that draw a reader to the next page or chapter—or sentence—don't have to be big. Jack Hart’s guide to narrative nonfiction, Storycraft, provides two excellent examples of opening lines with tiny mysteries that hook you. Joan Didion begins a piece with “Imagine Banyan Street first, because Banyan Street is where it happened.” Right away we wonder: what is “it”? And where is Banyan Street? The second example was written by Spencer Heinz in the Oregonian: “Pat Yost was in bed when she heard the sound.” Most readers will give Heinz’s next few sentences their attention to learn what the sound was, and Yost’s vulnerability makes the question feel urgent. You can get a bit too obviously manipulative with tiny questions (so that the reader asks “For crying out loud, what is it now?”), but it’s a useful technique to keep in mind.

The other beauty of these questions is that they can make the need for exposition work for you. Rather than being bored to tears by an infodump, the reader is intrigued by hints and glimpses, then satisfied to receive more context and explanation.

Column L: New characters and concepts introduced

This column can help you pace your exposition and introductions. (It overlaps with the previous column, but different writers find different angles helpful for analyzing a story, so I’ve included both. You may not fill out this column for every chapter, especially shorter chapters or chapters later in the story.) Tracking this can prevent you from introducing the same person in two different scenes. It also reveals opportunities to energize any doldrums in the middle of your story by adding a new idea.

Column M: Notes (and whatever else you desire)

I use this column to make revision suggestions to myself. You can also use it to track elements you find important but which don’t fit in other columns. Again, please feel free to add more columns and delete ones that aren’t a priority for this story or your process!

Mystery writers may want a column to keep track of where clues or red herrings appear. Romance novelists may want to track beats. A kinky romance novelist may want to keep track of which toys the characters use in which sex scene. Other writers may want to track what Robert McKee calls the “value charge,” measuring how much closer to or farther from their goal a character has moved.

Using the Outline

You don't have to fill out the entire spreadsheet in one sitting. You might do a few chapters/scenes at a time. You might get one or two columns completely filled out in one go (I do columns A and C together) but take time to do the rest. Some columns may never get entirely filled out. My tip is to try every column to start with, because you never know what will make something click for you. It’s better to fill out half the columns than none.

Some authors create reverse outlines as they write the first draft. After completing each chapter, they end their writing session by filling out a row with a summary of what they’ve just written. This has the benefit of your memory being fresher, and if it sounds like it’d work for you, please try it! It may help you spot issues early and course correct. However, some authors find too much analysis paralyzing in the first draft stage. Personally, I find it easier and fun to do my outline at the end, in a sugar rush of triumphant celebration at finishing a story. I write it up, stand back dusting my hands, and go “Well, what do we have here?”

And what do we have here?

Things a reverse outline can reveal:

Where does your climax—the peak of suspense, intensity, and emotion—happen in the story? How close to the end? How do you build up to it and climb back down? Are there mini-climaxes earlier in the story to keep readers engaged? Your main plot will have a climax, and so will your subplots and your character arcs. These may be located in different places, or they may all climax together. (Stop snickering, you in the back!)

What’s left unresolved at the end of the book? (For traditional publication, you’ll have the best luck if your first book is a “standalone,” though it may have opportunities for a sequel if it sells well. You might think self-publishing is more forgiving, but in fact, readers may greet a cliffhanger ending with bad reviews if they feel you’re trying to trap them into buying more books for unclear payoff. They may even return the book and demand a refund. However, in both traditional and self-publishing, books later in a series may end in cliffhangers once the author has won readers’ trust by finishing earlier stories in a satisfying way.)

How do the character arcs develop? Anything important enough to write a story about will probably change a person—how are each character’s actions and desires different at the end of the story than they were at the beginning?

How long are questions left unanswered or conflicts left unresolved? You generally want these to last for at least a few chapters to let suspense grow and keep the story flowing. (The author Benjamin Percy, in Thrill Me, speaks of his failed early novels: “I treated chapters like short stories, introducing and resolving trouble in fifteen pages. The containment, the stand-aloneness of my chapters, gave my books a stop-start quality that destroyed any sense of momentum.”) At the same time, each scene should make a little progress, whether positive or negative. It will end with the character a little better off or worse off (or better in some ways, worse in others) than they were before.

Friction, tension, conflict, and struggle make a story richer and more vivid. Even for small and simple goals, let the readers and characters yearn just a bit before you give them what they want. Make sure your payoffs each have setup.

Do you have scenes without action? Or where the action is all internal rather than external: does your protagonist sit around thinking until they change their mind about something? This isn’t fatal—I’ve done it myself on occasion. But try not to make these static scenes too frequent (and internal action is better than no action at all: beware scenes that are pure exposition).

Do you have scenes that are overgrown transitions, moving characters from Point A to Point B? In particular, you have an overgrown transition rather than a proper scene when there aren’t enough questions, conflict, stakes, urgency, or emotional engagement. Make your story more vivid by fleshing out these transitions or removing them (a transition can often become a paragraph or sentence at the beginning of the next scene).

Do any significant events happen off-page or between scenes? Would it be clearer or more impactful for readers if they happen on-page?

Do you spend a lot of wordcount introducing a particular character, setting, or detail that doesn’t go on to play a significant role in the story? Be wary of one-offs: characters, POVs, locations, and apparent subplots that only appear once may be a sign you should develop them further—or take them out entirely. Not always! But make sure it’s clear to readers why you break your story’s pattern. Sometimes, an author will give a character one flashback scene to share backstory. However interesting the backstory, be sure the events of that flashback are relevant to their present-day storyline!

How does each scene fit into to the larger story? How do the subplots connect to each other? If something doesn’t connect, does it belong? Can you flesh it out and connect it more? (Whether you connect it more tightly or delete it often depends on if your story is longer or shorter than you want it to be—see next section.)

You can color-code rows by subplot if that makes things easier for you. The reverse outline can become a very visual document, helping you see things it’s harder to find in a manuscript of text.

Look at scenes that only advance a single plot or subplot, and see how strong they are in the other columns. One way to punch up a sagging scene is to combine it with a second scene and do two things at once. Maybe the scene in which Miranda overhears Jason’s suspicious phone call is also the scene where she reels from the revelation that she’s about to be fired from her dream job (which she learned in the previous chapter). As our friend writing at the Cincinnati Enquirer in February 1947 said, “Life is just one damn thing after another, is a gross understatement. The damn things overlap.”

Do tensions and stakes rise over the course of the story? This is often phrased as “things have to get worse and worse for your characters,” but that isn’t the only option. Giving your characters an occasional “break” provides hope, which, for you literary sadists, gives characters more to lose when things get worse again. Hope raises the stakes. And building a character up lets you continue a story for longer because it gives them farther to fall. The occasional achievement can give your character new abilities and resources to make future scenes exciting. Also, alternating hope with loss or disappointment creates a variety in tone and texture; most readers find variety welcome. (This also means you should beware of too many scenes of unmitigated success, even if your story's tone is one of cozy wish fulfillment.) In some genres, both your character and your audience may need occasional injections of hope to be motivated to see the story through. There are exceptions—a short horror novel may be nothing but things getting worse—but overall, don’t worry that you’re failing at suspenseful storytelling if your characters are sometimes happy! But there still should be something missing, an unanswered question, an unachieved goal, or an unresolved risk that keeps the story going. And generally, these risks, goals, questions, and unfulfilled desires should get bigger as the story goes on.

How's the length of your story?

Some writers end up with first drafts way longer than they want. Some wind up with first drafts that are too short. For some authors, each story causes them wordcount-related stress in a different way. And in every manuscript, whatever its overall length, some scenes will go on a bit longer than they need to, while several character details and plot threads will tantalize with their ability to be developed further.

Too long/too short is also a question of the audience you’re writing for. Young adult novels tend to be shorter than adult historical epics. If you’re writing fiction to publish in magazines paying pro rates, you'll often have a better short with a 4,000-word short story than a 9,000-word novelette. And if you don’t intend to write a novella (I love them, but they can be tricky to sell), then a 40,000-word “novel” probably needs more development.

If your story or scene is too long, either:

Too much is happening

You’re giving too many details about what’s happening

(It may be both at once, of course.)

You’ll want to make changes in that order: first, decide what needs to happen in the story. As I advised earlier, making some of it happen simultaneously can reduce the number of scenes and make each scene more intense. But upon consideration, and with the help of your reverse outline, you may find one or two excess subplots. Save them for a different story.

Once you’ve reduced your number of scenes, if you’re still longer than you want, look at each scene and tighten paragraphs and lines. But that fine-tuning is something to work on later, in the line-editing rather than organization or structural edit (what I'm calling the second draft in this post, and which we editors also call developmental editing).

If your story is too short, either:

Not enough is happening

You’re not giving enough details about what is happening

Should you add a subplot, or draw out a subplot you currently have? Do the characters’ problems get resolved too quickly? Have you raised enough narrative questions? Given enough answers? Is the conflict strong enough and are the stakes high enough? Have you shown how high the stakes are? Look at where you’ve used narrative summary. Would any of this be more interesting or dramatic as a scene? Are there sentences you could expand to paragraphs, or paragraphs into chapters? Don’t pad the story, but flesh it out.

You may want to do more research, especially if you put research aside to complete your first draft (which you've done—congratulations!) Learning about your characters’ jobs, the world they inhabit, and processes within it can open up lots of avenues, many of which you wouldn’t have predicted.

Or you may write short because you know so much about the story. You’ve been developing this magic system since you were in high school, so you don’t realize how weird and wondrous it is to your readers and how much they’d enjoy a (vivid, active, non-lecture) tour of it. Now’s the time to add some more scenes of your protagonist learning to use magic! Or, switching genres, a mystery writer may have meticulously planned the crime—but they need to add enough description that the reader can follow the logistics.

The emotions of revision

Personally, I think adding more scenes and details is great fun. You get to write fanfiction of your first draft—and publish it! However, expanding a story can take time and requires you to keep track of what you’re doing. The record in the reverse outline will help with that.

Cutting scenes, plot threads, characters, and even favorite sentences can be melancholy. I encourage writers to save what they cut in case it can fit in a future story—even if it doesn’t, this feels less like a final execution. However, sometimes cutting something is a relief. You’ve had a feeling that element wasn’t working out, and now you can let it go.

Some writers may get a little too eager to cut. It might seem like the easy way out, but if you delete everything that causes you trouble, the story will get smaller and smaller, and it might wind up less interesting as a result. You’re also depriving yourself of the chance to stretch your creativity and try new things. (Mary Oliver in A Poetry Handbook warns that “deletion teaches nothing.”) It’s a judgment call: does this troublesome bit have enough potential that it’s worth rescuing through revision? Try sleeping on it in case your subconscious offers a new solution you hadn’t expected. If that doesn’t pan out, you can always save the idea to try again in a different story. As Matthew Salesses says in Craft in the Real World, “Some encouragement (hopefully)! The bulk of successful writing is in the fact that you have an endless number of tries. Persistence is key.”

To wrap up, a few more uses of reverse outlining:

Reread your story in light of the outline. Going between the outline and each scene, consider this question: does your outline describe what’s actually on the page or what you intended to write? If your outline is more wishful than actual, that's still progress: it's helped you express your intentions, which is a step that brings them closer to reality. Now the reverse outline has become a planning outline for your next draft.

Similarly, some authors find it tricky to revise existing scenes. Instead, they write the second draft more or less from scratch in a new file. They trust their memory to give them back the best parts of the stroy and to drop or rework what wasn’t succeeding. If you want to use this approach but still need some guidance, the reverse outline can be made into a new outline.

You can reverse outline other people’s books! It's fun and insightful to examine how a favorite author works on a scene-by-scene level. Heck, it can also give insight into how an author you can’t stand, but who is undeservedly successful, works on a scene-by-scene level. Maybe you can learn from their success after all.

Again, here’s the reverse outline template in Google Sheets, with an example from one of my own stories filling out the first few rows. Make a copy and make it yours!

[writerswritecompany]

45 Ways To Avoid Using The Word ‘Very’— The original 'very' post.

Good writers avoid using words like ‘very’ and ‘really too often. Use these 45 alternatives to ‘very’ to make your writing stronger, clearer, and more interesting to read.

[writerswritecompany]

[carys-the-ninth]

"The magic system is never fully explained" yeah that's how life works. Imagine having a story set in modern day America and the characters have several pages of exposition on combustion engines and telecommunication networks before we get to the plot

[et-in-arkadia]

i think this is absolutely correct and good writing advice but also victor hugo would like to have a word with you about the parisian sewer system circa 1832

[bendingsignpost]

victor hugo would like to have many words with you about the parisian sewer system circa 1831

[writerswritecompany]

Characterisation is how authors create and describe a character’s looks and personality. In this post, we look at direct characterisation and indirect characterisation and ask which one authors should use.

What Is Direct & Indirect Characterisation? & Which One Should I Use?

In this post, we define characterisation, look at direct characterisation and indirect characterisation, and ask which one authors should us

[writerswritecompany]

What Is Tone? 155 Words To Describe An Author’s Tone

Understanding tone can help you become a stronger reader and writer. The right tone shapes how readers feel about a story, character, or idea. Find out more in this post.

What Is Tone? 155 Words To Describe An Author's Tone

What is tone in writing? Learn the definition of tone and discover 155 words that can help you describe an author’s tone, analyse literature

[novlr]

How to Write the Perfect Antihero | The Novlr Reading Room

Discover the key traits that make an antihero so compelling and explore techniques to bring depth to your morally ambiguous characters.