Building Tension On or Off the Page

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Conflict and tension are important concepts to help drive a story. Whether it’s showing a physical fight between characters or internal struggles within a character, obstacles make readers turn the page.

One way to create conflict and tension is to determine whether events take place on or off the page.

Psychological suspense, for example, can come from ending a chapter with an expectation of what a character will do, then starting the next chapter the following day. This forces readers to wait to find out what happened “off the page.”

Did they leave the note on the person’s door?

Did they confront the person they thought was following them?

Did they buy the big dog for protection? (Or the handgun?)

By forcing the reader to wait for the answer to that question, tension builds as the reader’s need to know increases over time.

Showing every event as it happens can create tension too, sweeping the reader up in the events in real time.

Step by step, we creep through the house with the person investigating a crime.

Moment by moment, we feel the tension ratchet up as the dialogue goes back and forth, leading toward a character finally saying, “I love you.”

Action by action, as a character scales the mountain, runs the race, or faces their biggest fear, the tension pulls the reader even further into a story.

Balance, however, can be tricky. Waiting too long to answer the question “did they …” can frustrate readers. But showing every single step of an event can include more information than a reader needs.

Balancing those aspects can be an effective way to pull readers through a story because they are compelled to find out what happens next.

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Image ID: Elena, a white woman with a dark blonde pixie cut is wearing a black jacket and looking into the camera. She is smiling with her chin resting on her fist.

Elena Hartwell Taylor is the Senior Editor & Director of Programming at Allegory Editing. In addition to working as a developmental editor and writing coach, Elena is a published author. Her most recent novel, All We Buried, appears under the name Elena Taylor. The Eddie Shoes Mystery Series appears under Elena Hartwell. Prior to writing novels, Elena worked extensively in the theater as a playwright, director, educator, and designer. She has taught writing and theatre courses at the college/university level for more than twenty years. She holds a PhD in dramatic theory and criticism, a Masters of Education with an emphasis in teaching theatre, and a BA in Mass Media Communications. For more information about Elena, you can visit her website and read her blog about authors, new books, and the writing process. You can contact her at elena@allegoryediting.com.

What Kindergarten Can Teach Us About the Craft of Writing

Image ID: A teacher's back faces the camera. She appears to be holding a book. A small group of children of multiple races looks at what she's holding with rapt attention.

A number of years ago, during the height of pandemic lockdown, I spent a fair amount of time eavesdropping on remote kindergarten video meetings happening in the next room. (Shout-out to the amazing Mrs. Campbell!)

It was during that time, while listening in on my son's literacy lessons, that it occurred to me what valuable lessons kindergarten can teach us adults about the craft of writing. 

1. The first draft is for mistakes.

My son is the type of kid who loves to make up stories but hates to write anything down unless he's absolutely confident he knows how to spell it correctly. And because a huge focus of kindergarten is learning how to put letters and sounds together to make words, it was important during that stage that the adults in his life didn't just feed him the spelling of a word every time he asked. On the other hand, we didn’t want him to get so frustrated, fearful, or nervous that he didn’t put anything on paper at all. It was a delicate balance. 

Of course, as adults we have the luxury of spell-check. But we let our perfectionism, fear, or doubt hold us back in many other ways.

Perhaps you're like my son and tend to get in your own way. You do such a good job of convincing yourself you can't write, it won't be good, no one will like it, and your ideas are crap, that you cross out or delete every other sentence and keep rewriting and rewriting. By the time you're done with that day's writing session, not only do you have nothing down on paper, but you're so discouraged you want to give up altogether.

Or maybe you're like me and you want to make sure you accurately describe the tree your protagonist climbs, so you waste an hour googling pictures and reading about the textural nuances of willow tree bark.

The desire to get your details, your word choice, your story, and your plot exactly right is a great instinct. It's just not what a first draft is for.

A first draft is for mistakes.

You'll have plenty of opportunities to perfect it later. That's what rewrites are for. The first draft is for letting your creativity flow free and unencumbered. It's for allowing yourself the permission to get it wrong.

My son's teacher used the concepts of a supported release of control and inventive spelling to help kids avoid getting in their own way during writing time. She taught them, “You can do this, you have the tools, and if you get it wrong, that's okay—there will be time to fix it later.”

For our purposes, I suggest a freewrite exercise. A freewrite is where you set a timer and write without stopping. You can do this with or without a writing prompt (a phrase or picture to jump start your thought process). I like to do 20-30 minutes, but you can always start smaller and work your way up. Begin writing and don't stop until the timer goes off. No crossing out or erasing or hitting the delete button or going back and circling things and making notes in the margins. Just keep writing. If you get stuck, just write "I'm stuck, I don't know what to write" until you get unstuck. You can always make a note in parentheses to yourself to fact check something later, but don't stop or spend time dwelling on it—and absolutely NO GOOGLING!

When the timer goes off, go back and read your work. Fix things, change things, and research things. You may find you're in a groove and want to keep going. If that's the case, do it. There's plenty of time to rewrite later. This brings me to number two.

2. When you're done, you've just begun.

One morning, as I walked by my son's room, I heard his teacher offer this singsongy aphorism with classic kindergarten teacher enthusiasm. The class had just finished an independent activity, drawing a picture and writing a simple sentence to go with it. She reminded them that now it was their job to go back and add more details, check their spelling, and correct any upside down or backwards letters.

If I were only allowed to give a single piece of advice to writers, I would break out my best kindergarten teacher voice and sing them Mrs. Campbell's cheerful reminder: “When you're done, you've just begun.”

One of the most common mistakes I see with newer writers is a lack of understanding of the work required to get something publication ready or query ready. It's not uncommon for authors to complete dozens of rewrites of a single manuscript.

After your initial ideas-on-the-page draft—and after you take a beat to celebrate that huge accomplishment—that's when you gotta really roll up your sleeves and get down to it.

Here are some things to look for as you dig in to rewrites: 

Is your plot well formed?

• Does it have any holes?

• Is it believable within the world of your story?

Are your characters fully developed?

• Do they have clear and strong objectives, obstacles, and stakes?

• Are the character arcs well formed?

• Do the characters change in some way by the end of the story?

• Are the relationships between characters clear?

Then there’s your setting.

• Are your descriptions vivid?

• Do they evoke a sense of place?

• Do you use all five senses in your descriptions?

• Are there enough rich details to allow the reader to picture the setting?

And of course, dialogue.

• Is the speech of each individual character distinct?

• Does the dialogue move the story forward, or is it laden with too much exposition?

• What does the way the characters speak, and what they say, reveal about them—and is this what you intend to show?

We can’t forget mechanics.

• Have you checked for tense errors?

• Is the point of view consistent?

• Have you scanned for errors in spelling, punctuation, and grammar?

Before you freak out, take a deep breath with me. You do not have to tackle this all at once, and you do not have to tackle it alone. Address one element at a time before moving on to the next, and when you’ve polished it as much as you can on your own, bring in an outside eye for feedback.  

The point I want you to take away is not a panic attack. Or that finishing your first draft isn't a huge accomplishment. Because it is! Not many people finish a complete draft of a manuscript. But a whole lot fewer people complete their first draft and persevere, putting in the work to rewrite and polish the manuscript.

What I do want to impress upon you is that it’s a lot of work. This is a marathon, not a sprint. I think knowing and mentally preparing yourself for that can go a long way toward setting yourself up for success.

As Mrs. Campbell might say: Alright class, this concludes today’s lesson. Now get out there and get writing!

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Image ID: Andrea, a white woman with brown, curly hair, stands in front of a tree. She wears a blue dress and is smiling at the camera.

Andrea Karin Nelson is the Founder & Executive Editor at Allegory Editing. In addition to her developmental editing work with published novelists, playwrights, and essayists, Andrea brings a unique set of experiences and skills to her editing craft. Twenty years as a writer and theater maker has developed her keen sense of story structure, plot and character development. Her plays have been commissioned and produced across the United States and performed in both English and American Sign Language. Fifteen years as a Master-Level, Certified Sign Language Interpreter has finely tuned her ear to the subtleties of language and the nuances of human interactions. And with over two decades as an educator, her teacher's heart allows Andrea to personally tailor her work with each writer. Click here to read an interview about Andrea’s journey founding Allegory. You can contact her at andrea@allegoryediting.com.

What is Voice?

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A strong voice allows writers to convey their artistic vision, playing with language, experimenting with style, and creating a work that is truly unique. It’s like a fingerprint, making the author’s work engaging and recognizable.

Consider the flowing, complex opening lines of Toni Morrison’s Beloved, in which the third-person narrator’s voice describes a family’s house as “spiteful” and “full of a baby’s venom,” chasing its inhabitants away:

“For years [they] put up with the spite in [their] own way, but by 1873 Sethe and her daughter Denver were its only victims. The grandmother, Baby Suggs, was dead, and the sons, Howard and Buglar, had run away by the time they were thirteen years old—as soon as merely looking in a mirror shattered it (that was the signal for Buglar); as soon as two tiny hand prints appeared in the cake (that was it for Howard). Neither boy waited to see more; another kettleful of chickpeas smoking in a heap on the floor; soda crackers crumbled and strewn in a line next to the door-sill. Nor did they wait for one of the relief periods: the weeks, months even, when nothing was disturbed. No. Each one fled at once—the moment the house committed what was for him the one insult not to be borne or witnessed a second time.”

In contrast, take a look at how Ernest Hemingway begins “Hills Like White Elephants,” using a straightforward, terse voice (with minimal punctuation) to set the scene for a short story that consists mostly of dialogue after the first paragraph:

“The hills across the valley of the Ebro were long and white. On this side there was no shade and no trees and the station was between two lines of rails in the sun. Close against the side of the station there was the warm shadow of the building and a curtain, made of strings of bamboo beads, hung across the open door into the bar, to keep out flies. The American and the girl with him sat at a table in the shade, outside the building.”

A strong and compelling authorial voice captivates readers, drawing them into the narrative, providing consistency throughout a manuscript whether an author is writing fiction or nonfiction. Author voice is at the heart of how we write; it allows for expression and creativity, going beyond the mere transmission of information and adding a layer of emotion, tone, and style that can enrich the experience of both writer and reader.

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Amy Cecil Holm is Allegory Editing’s resident Copy Editor and Proofreader. As a copy editor and proofreader, Amy draws upon more than three decades of teaching college English to help authors polish their prose. She holds a bachelor’s degree in journalism and a master’s degree in creative writing and has worked as a journalist, technical writer, and educator. Amy has taught courses in English composition, literature, creative writing, journalistic writing, business writing, and developmental reading, among others. She has a keen understanding of grammar, punctuation, and diction and uses her careful attention to detail to help prepare manuscripts for submission and publication.

Getting Curious About Sensory Details

A black-and-white line drawing of a brain, surrounded by line drawings of an ear, mouth, hand, nose, and eye with arrows pointing from the body parts toward the brain.

Close your eyes. Describe the place where you are right now. This is not a test of your short-term memory, but rather a way to focus on all the information you have at your disposal to write that description. How do you know where you are and what is around you? Most of us pay more attention to what we see than the other information coming in through our senses. What do you hear, feel, smell, touch, and taste? Is there anything else you can “sense”?

Try writing a description using only this nonvisual sensory information. Then, write a paragraph using only the details you can see. Which engages you more? Using powerful and relevant sensory details helps us pull readers in, making them feel like they're inside our stories, and it focuses their attention on what we want them to pay attention to. Master the use of sensory details and you have your readers in your power.

There are more ways to use this information in your writing than just showing what a character sees, feels, hears, touches, and smells. Consider that when you use a metaphor, you're tapping into sensory information. If you describe something as smooth as silk, your readers’ hands, on some level, feel the sensation of sliding over silk. In the same way, describing sharp edges, knives, and broken glass can cause a subconscious sensation of pulling away from danger.

As writers, we are often so engrossed in presenting our plot that we forget to use sensory details to our advantage. As I've surveyed writing over the last few months looking for how writers use sensory information, I’ve seen some great examples. Many are  about what things smell like, and that makes sense, because smell is so connected to memory. But as I close my eyes right now, I don't smell anything particularly interesting to write about. I feel the pressure of my chair against the back of my thighs. I hear the fan in the laundry room where I'm drying a sweater. I hear my dog shift on the pillow next to me. I feel the tightness of my fingers and the crick in my neck. There is a little bit of warmth on the side of my face coming from the window, and I taste a dryness in my mouth that tells me I should go get a glass of water. None of this means anything, though, unless I can connect it to something I want to tell you about.

That's the challenge. Once we know to pay attention to all the details available, and have gathered up relevant details to use, how do we connect the information to what we want to tell our readers? It could be as simple as those sharp edges and knives in the description of a scene where we want our readers to feel the danger the character is in. And it can always be more complex. Consider the other senses we have, like the odd sense that someone is watching us, or our ability to sense gravity. Could an odd sense of pressure in the head, as if someone is upside down, signal that even though the room looks right, it isn’t?

I invite you to get curious about how your favorite authors use sensory details. Set an imaginary alarm in your head to go off whenever you see sensory information in what you’re reading. Pause for a moment and reread the passages. Pay attention to which senses are being referred to, what information they're giving you, and how that's connected to the rest of the story.

Consider why the author added those particular details, and why they put them in at that place. In the same way, become curious in your own work about the choices you make unconsciously, and think about additional conscious choices that support your story’s aims. Sensory information is the ultimate “show, don’t tell.” Use it to your advantage.

If you're curious about using sensory details and want to consider more examples, please join me on November 14, 9:00-10:30 am (PST) for Engage the Senses, Engage the Reader: Mastering Sensory Details.

Happy writing!

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Christine Pinto is a Developmental Editor with Allegory Editing. As a developmental editor, Christine draws on her experience as a fiction writer and writing instructor. She holds a Certificate in Writing for Children and a Certificate in Editing from the University of Washington. Over a decade of experience teaching writing to children and adults, she has gained a deep understanding of the craft of writing and strong communication skills for sharing that knowledge with writers. Christine’s own journey as a writer informs her editing work with deep empathy for writers preparing a manuscript for publication. Her interests include historical and contemporary fiction, memoir, romance, fantasy, non-fiction, technical, business writing and writing for children. You can reach Christine at christine@allegoryediting.com.

The Art of Feedback

Image ID: An artist's paint palette with three brushes sticking through the hole. The palette is covered in various shades of paint.

Feedback is an essential part of the writing process. It’s also one that many writers dread.

I have an extensive background as a theater artist—an inherently collaborative art that cannot function properly without feedback. As an actor, director, and playwright, I crave and rely on feedback. I’ve come to see it as an essential part of my creative process in all mediums that I work in.

But that doesn’t mean I never struggle with it. Poorly given feedback or feedback on a piece I feel especially raw about can still sting. My task in these instances is to wade through my feelings or get past a less-than-ideal delivery to find the heart of the feedback—that nugget of truth I can use.

Why is feedback so scary for writers?

Neuroscience teaches us that our brains are hardwired to operate on a “minimize danger, maximize reward” principle. This mechanism is designed to keep us safe from anything we perceive as a threat. When delivered ineffectively, feedback can feel threatening, causing us to shut down.

At this point, you’re probably saying to yourself, “But feedback isn’t threatening. What is this lady on about?”

But something doesn’t have to actually be threatening to cause this reaction in our brains. It only has to be perceived as threatening. And that perception has a lot to do with two things: How the feedback is given and how our brains filter the information when we receive it.

Perhaps the person giving me feedback focuses only on what’s wrong with my manuscript without providing any ideas for how I can improve.  Or perhaps the feedback is given in a brilliantly constructive manner, but I’m particularly insecure about my writing and therefore I filter it through a lens of self-doubt, coloring how I receive it.

Therefore, how feedback is delivered and how it is received must both be considered when setting up a constructive critique relationship.

How to give and receive feedback

Imagine a feedback relationship, whether it be with a critique partner, a beta reader, or a professional editor, that feels collaborative, constructive, and mutually respectful. It’s entirely possible. But it requires both parties to be invested in making the experience work.

Here are some suggestions for how to create a constructive feedback relationship:

Tips for receiving writing feedback

Be specific about what you need. Even when you’re working with a professional editor, it’s helpful to let the other person know what questions you have about your piece and what areas you’re struggling with. It’s also a good idea to give them a sense of your vision for the project so they can align their feedback to support that vision.

Ditch the ego. I’ve heard Lin Manuel Miranda’s directing style described as “creating an egoless room,” and I’ve been in love with that concept ever since. As much as possible, let go of wanting or needing to be right. Remain open to the possibility that the other person may have an idea that’s better than yours. It’s not about being right; it’s about making the work the best it can be.

Be mindful of your filters. “Filters” are experiences, biases, memories, and values that shape how we see and interpret the world. These filters influence how we understand and contextualize the things other people say and do. Take stock of your own filters so you can recognize when they may be skewing your perception of the feedback you receive.

Ask clarifying questions. If you’re unsure about a piece of feedback, ask for more information. This is especially important if you disagree with that feedback or if it brings up strong feelings for you. Take time to get yourself calm, and then politely ask the person giving you feedback for further explanation. You may still disagree with their point, but hopefully you will at least understand where they’re coming from.

Check your defensiveness. It’s natural to want to defend our artistic vision. But if we let go of our egos, and if everyone involved in the process is working toward a mutual goal of making the writing the best it can be, we can see there’s nothing to defend against. Believe me, I know this is easier said than done—defensiveness is my personal fatal flaw. But if you’re like me and know this is your default stance, your job is to work extra hard against that instinct when receiving feedback.

Budget time to sit with the feedback. When setting your writing deadlines, add in a minimum of a few days (ideally a week or two) between getting feedback on a piece and starting your rewrites. This breathing room allows you the space to properly digest the feedback and integrate it into your vision for the work.

Tips for giving writing feedback

Start with positives. Opening your feedback with what you liked about the piece helps set a supportive tone. It reduces the chances the writer will immediately put their guard up and go into a defensive mode and increases the chances they will remain open to your feedback.

Consider what will be most constructive for the receiver. Is this an early draft and the writer wants to know if the structure and plot are working? It’s usually more productive at this stage to focus on the bigger picture rather than getting bogged down in the minutiae of every sentence. Did your critique partner come to you with three very specific questions and ask you to focus only on those for the time being? Do your best to stick to that. If you have feedback beyond what they asked for, you can always check in with them to see if they would like it now or later.  

Ask questions. Before giving feedback, ask the writer what they hope to get out of the interaction, what they’re struggling with, and what questions they have about the piece. It can also be useful to find out about their prior experiences receiving feedback—what’s worked and what hasn’t—so you can tailor your approach to match their style.

Remember that it’s not your story. Give feedback that supports the writer’s vision. If your critique partner is writing a cozy mystery but you think a high-stakes shootout would really spice up the plot, well . . . perhaps you need to write your own action story instead.

Allow for follow-up questions. Misunderstandings happen and we’re not always as clear as we think we are. Make yourself available for follow-up questions so the writer can get the most out of your feedback.

Understand that if big feelings do arise, it’s (probably) not personal. If a writer gets defensive or angry or hurt after you give them feedback, remember that receiving feedback is scary for many people. It’s worth examining if there was anything in your delivery that could be improved upon, but it may have more to do with their filters than anything else.

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Image ID: Andrea, a white woman with brown, curly hair, stands in front of a tree. She wears a blue dress and is smiling at the camera.

Andrea Karin Nelson is the Founder & Executive Editor at Allegory Editing. In addition to her developmental editing work with published novelists, playwrights, and essayists, Andrea brings a unique set of experiences and skills to her editing craft. Twenty years as a writer and theater maker has developed her keen sense of story structure, plot and character development. Her plays have been commissioned and produced across the United States and performed in both English and American Sign Language. Fifteen years as a Master-Level, Certified Sign Language Interpreter has finely tuned her ear to the subtleties of language and the nuances of human interactions. And with over two decades as an educator, her teacher's heart allows Andrea to personally tailor her work with each writer. Click here to read an interview about Andrea’s journey founding Allegory. You can contact her at andrea@allegoryediting.com.

How to Use Backstory to Develop Your Characters

Image ID: A close up of a typewritten page reading “EVERYONE HAS A STORY.”

Backstory is paramount to effective character development as well as writing realistic, impactful relationships. When I read a story with one-dimensional characters who don't engage my interest, one of the first thoughts I have is, "I'll bet the writer doesn't really know their characters."

What is backstory?

Put simply, backstory is everything that happens to your characters before your reader meets them. It encompasses a wide variety of elements such as a character's age, where they grew up, and their socioeconomic status. The possibilities are truly endless because, just like people, well-written characters contain multitudes.

How do writers use backstory?

In my past life as an actor, one of the first exercises I would do in preparing for a role was to work on my character's backstory. Some of this would come from clues in the script, while a lot was left up to me as an actor to create. Indeed, the many blanks an actor must fill in for their character's backstory, and all the room for interpretation within that, is part of what makes no two productions of a play the same. 

As fiction writers, you should be able to answer all of the same questions an actor does about your characters. (I have provided my suggested backstory questions at the end of this article.) 

Much of the backstory you develop will not make its way onto the page in a direct way. Indeed, much of your backstory should not be included on the page. But it should influence every scene you write. Who a person is and what they've been through impacts every aspect of their lives, whether consciously or not. 

Backstory for plotters and pantsers 

Some of us (myself included) are what I've heard fondly referred to as "pantsers"—as in we fly by the seat of our pants. We're the writers who jump into a blank page, often with no more than a premise, an image in our heads of an interesting character, or the beginnings of a captivating world. The characters and plot develop organically as we go along, and it is in the rewrites that we make sure all the pieces add up. 

Then there are the "plotters.” These are the writers who plan out all of the plot points ahead of time. Spreadsheets may or may not be involved. Plotters may do some character development as they go along, but they are much more likely to have thought deeply about who the characters are before they begin writing. 

These are vast generalizations, of course, and often writers swing along the spectrum from pantser to plotter, depending on the project. My point is, whether you are a pantser or a plotter, you can benefit from consciously considering backstory. Whether you do it before you put a single word on the page, between your first and second drafts, or at various points along the way, it is an exercise that will benefit any story. 

How to develop a backstory for your characters

Which backstory elements are useful for you will depend on your genre, the story you’re trying to tell, and how your writer brain operates. But here are some backstory questions that are useful to consider. Some questions may seem obvious, but you'd be surprised how often writers can't answer some of the more basic facts about their characters. This list is by no means exhaustive, and not every item on the list will speak to each writer. Use it as a jumping off point to get your creative juices flowing. 

• How old is the character? 

• Where did they grow up? 

• What is their socioeconomic background and current socioeconomic status? 

• What is their marital status and relationship history? 

• How do they feel about it? 

• Do they have children? 

• What is their highest level of education? 

• What do they do for a living? 

• Do they like it? 

• How do they know the other characters? 

• How long have they known them?

• How do they feel about them? 

• Do they get along? 

• Did they always? 

  • If not, why not? 

• What are their plans for the future? 

• Their hopes and dreams? 

• Their fears? 

• What do/did their parents do for a living? 

• How does this influence them? 

• Did they follow in their footsteps or take a different path? 

• Was their childhood happy overall? 

• Were there any traumas? 

• Did they have friends growing up? 

• What about enemies? 

• What is their race and ethnicity? 

• Immigration status? 

• Are these the same as the rest of their family or different?

• In what ways did these elements impact them growing up? 

• What about now? 

• What is their gender identity and sexual orientation? 

• In what ways does their gender and sexuality influence their worldview? 

• If they are not straight and/or cisgendered, have they come out yet? 

• When? 

• To whom?

• What was that experience like? 

• What kind of religious beliefs and practices (if any) were they raised with?

• Have they maintained those, or gone a different direction? 

• What is their biggest mistake and/or regret in life? 

• What is their biggest accomplishment or joy?

Final thoughts

Creating a robust backstory for your characters is one of the most important things a writer can do. The practice allows you to develop multidimensional characters that will appeal to readers and help them feel connected to the story. It can also help drive your plot. Whether you’re a “plotter” or a “pantser,” taking the time to consider backstory is paramount for every writer of fiction, memoir, and creative nonfiction.

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Image ID: Andrea, a white woman with brown, curly hair, stands in front of a tree. She wears a blue dress and is smiling at the camera.

Andrea Karin Nelson is the Founder & Executive Editor at Allegory Editing. In addition to her developmental editing work with published novelists, playwrights, and essayists, Andrea brings a unique set of experiences and skills to her editing craft. Twenty years as a writer and theater maker has developed her keen sense of story structure, plot and character development. Her plays have been commissioned and produced across the United States and performed in both English and American Sign Language. Fifteen years as a Master-Level, Certified Sign Language Interpreter has finely tuned her ear to the subtleties of language and the nuances of human interactions. And with over two decades as an educator, her teacher's heart allows Andrea to personally tailor her work with each writer. Click here to read an interview about Andrea’s journey founding Allegory. You can contact her at andrea@allegoryediting.com.

Build Your Characters, Build Your Plot

IMAGE ID: A brick layer builds a wall.

The literary community often talks about plot and character as separate entities, and for many reasons that’s a useful way to discuss those components.

But the reality is more nuanced.

Plot is built from character action. Without action there is no plot; without characters there is no action.

So how do throughlines, spines, and big questions help writers build both plot and character?

I like to talk about throughlines as bread crumbs through the forest. Each one must be visible to the next or the trail ends. If they’re too close together, the reader can get irritated because the scenes are redundant or repetitive, just as a person searching for the next bread crumb in the forest doesn’t need a marker every few inches.

Each scene, each chapter, is a bread crumb, leading the reader from beginning to end.

Spines are like the binding on a book. They hold the pages together—in a specific order. Without a spine, the book would fall apart, the pages becoming hopelessly jumbled. Readers faced with a bound book versus a pile of unorganized pages will choose the bound book every time.

Stories are similar. Readers want the scenes to connect … eventually. Scenes can appear to occur out of order, jumping around in time, place, and viewpoint character. But by the final page, readers can look back and understand that what appeared as disorder was actually a carefully crafted plot held together with the spine.

Big questions are those wonderful openings that hook readers, culminating in a satisfying answer at the end. Writers can use a big question to help them understand what the book is really about, then be confident in a solid ending by answering the question. The answer might be yes or no, or even maybe, but regardless of the answer, the question is addressed fully during the climax of the story.

Each of these concepts can be applied to any manuscript. By understanding and using them during the writing process, complex characters will emerge, and a tight, engaging plot will take readers—including agents and editors—on the thrill of the adventure, the sweetness of the love story, or the poignancy of the coming-of-age. All genres can be improved with the use of throughlines, spines, and big questions.

Writers of narrative nonfiction also benefit from these concepts. Any story, regardless of whether it’s fiction or a retelling of a true event, needs structure and complex characters to truly shine.

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IMAGE ID: Elena, a white woman with long blonde hair, smiles at the camera.

Elena Hartwell Taylor is the Senior Editor & Director of Programming at Allegory Editing. In addition to working as a developmental editor and writing coach, Elena is a published author. Her most recent novel, All We Buried, appears under the name Elena Taylor. The Eddie Shoes Mystery Series appears under Elena Hartwell. Prior to writing novels, Elena worked extensively in the theater as a playwright, director, educator, and designer. She has taught writing and theatre courses at the college/university level for more than twenty years. She holds a PhD in dramatic theory and criticism, a Masters of Education with an emphasis in teaching theatre, and a BA in Mass Media Communications. For more information about Elena, you can visit her website and read her blog about authors, new books, and the writing process. You can contact her at elena@allegoryediting.com.