With this post I listed 10 outline techniques to help writes move their story from a basic idea to a complete set of arcs, plots, sequences and/or scenes. Or to simply expand whatever you have in hands right now.
If you have a vague story idea or a detailed one, this post is for you to both discover and organize. A few technique will work perfectly. A few won’t. Your mission is to find the one that works best for you. That said, I advice you to try out as many techniques as possible.
So, are you ready? Open your notebook, or your digital document, and let’s start.
1. Snowflake method: Start with a one-sentence description of the novel. Then, develop this simple phrase into a paragraph. Your next step is to write a one-page summary based on the paragraph, you can write about characters, motivations, goals, plots, options, whatever you feel like. From this point on, you can either start your book or expand the one-page summary into four pages. And, at last, four pages into a brief description of known sequences of scenes. Your goal is to make the story more and more complex as you add information, much like a forming snowflake.
2. Chapter by chapter: List ten to twenty chapters, give each chapter a tittle and a brief description of what should happen. Then, break each chapter into three to five basic sequences of scenes. Give each sequence a title, a brief description and a short list of possibilities (possibilities of dialogues, scenarios, outcomes, moods, feelings… just play around with possibilities). From this point on, you can either create the scenes of sequences with a one-sentence description for each or jump straight to writing. Your goal is to shift from the big picture to a detail-oriented point of view.
3. Script: This might sound crazy, but, with this technique, you will write the screenplay of your story as if it’s a movie. No strings attached to creative writing, just plain actions and dialogues with basic information. Writing a script will take time, maybe months, but it will also enlighten your project like no other technique. Your goal is to create a cinematic view of your story. How to write a script here.
4. Free writing: No rules, no format, no step, just grab a pen or prepare your fingers to write down whatever idea that comes up. Think of possibilities, characters, places, quests, journeys, evolutions, symbolisms, fears, good moments, bad moments, clothing, appearances. Complete five to ten pages. Or even more. The more you write, the more you will unravel. You can even doodle, or paste images. Your mission is to explore freely.
5. Tag: This technique is ideal if you have just a vague idea of the story. Start by listing ten to fifteen tags related to the story. Under each tag, create possible plots. And, under each plot, create possible scenes. Grab a red felt pen and circle plots and scenes that sparkle your interest.
6. Eight-point arc: With this technique you will divide your story into eight stages. They are Stasis, Trigger, Quest, Surprise, Critical Choice, Climax, Reversal and Resolution. The Stasis is the every-day-life of your main character. Trigger is an event that will change the every-day-life of your character (for better or for worse). Quest is a period of your main characters trying to find a new balance, a new every-day-life (because we all love a good routine). Surprise will take your character away from their new found every-day-life. Critical Choice is a point of no return, a dilemma, your character will have to make the hardest decision out of two outcomes, both equally important. Climax is the critical choice put to practice. Reversal is the consequence of the climax, or how the characters evolved. Resolution is the return to a new (or old) every-day-life, a (maybe everlasting) balance.
7. Reverse: Write down a description of how your story ends, what happens to your characters and to those around them. Make it as detailed as possible. Then, move up to the climax, write a short scenario for the highest point of your story. From there, build all the way back to the beginning.
8. Zigzag: Draw a zigzag with as many up and downs as you want. Every up represents your main character moving closer to their goal. Every down represents your main character moving further from their goal. Fill in your zigzag with sequences that will take your character closer and farther from the goal.
9. Listing: The focus of this technique is exploring new ideas when your story feels empty, short or stagnated. You’ll, basically make lists. Make a long list of plot ideas. Make another list of places and settings. Make a list of elements. And a list of possible characters. Maybe a list of book titles. Or a list of interesting scenes. A list of bad things that could happen inside this universe. A list of good things. A list of symbolism. A list of visual inspiration. A list of absurd ideas you’ll probably never use. Then, gather all this material and circle the good items. Try to organize them into a timeline.
10. Character-driven: Create a character. Don’t worry about anything else. Just think of a character, their appearance and style. Give them a name. Give them a basic personality. Give them a backstory. Develop their personality based on the backstory. Now, give this character a story that mirrors their backstory (maybe a way to overcome the past, or to grow, or to revenge, or to restore). Based on your character’s personality, come up with a few scenes to drive their story from beginning to end. Now, do the same thing for the antagonist and secondary characters.
So, when is it time to stop outlining and start writing?
This is your call. Some writers need as many details as they can get, some need just an basic plot to use as a North. Just remember, an outline is not a strict format, you can and you will improvise along the way. The most important is being comfortable with your story, exploring new ideas, expanding old concepts and, maybe, changing your mind many times. There’s no right or wrong, just follow your intuition.
Write like you have nothing better to do. Write like a walrus is following you and wants to steal your overcoat. Write like you just sat down on a language bush and are trying to find the best way to ask someone to remove words from your buttocks with a colossal pair of tweezers. On rainy days, write like you have eaten too many beans and are trying to find a quiet portaloo. Write like the ink is rising and you do not have a snorkel. Only write! Write like your pen is a grumpy stallion. Write with heredity and purulence. Write like one of your bunny slippers has a hole in it and little bits of slipper stuff are coming out. Write like you’ve just swallowed a duck. Write like your aunt drove you to the supermarket of writing in a Ford Fiesta that smelled of sardines and always came to pick you up later at the end of your shift with her knitting. Write like your elbows would write, if they had fingers. Write like an accordion. Write stripily. And in the reaches of the night, in those desolate lonely watches when your thoughts wash up over and over and over and over and over on useless shores, ask yourself, must I write? And realise that you must, because in the reaches of the night it is really cold and if you don’t then that fucking walrus will steal your coat.
so as some of you might know, i’m currently going to grad school for writing fiction and creative nonfiction. it’s a well-respected program, fully funded, with fantastic faculty and excellent classes. i’m learning a lot, so i thought even though i’m only just getting started (it’s a 2-year program), i’d share some stuff i’ve learned.
all writing is valid. scribbling a poem onto a cocktail napkin at an awkward family function is just as worthy of careful literary analysis as Faulkner. i’ve read stories and thought this is the worst thing i’ve ever read, i can’t take this seriously and then watched as established, widely published authors and academics provided a thoughtful and thorough criticism of it. treat all writing with respect, your own included.
all research is valid. i went on a rant about BDSM politics in queer culture, and this boy, who looked totally bewildered, asked me what BDSM was. after (hopefully) tactfully explaining it to him, he asked me, “so is that like…your research or something?” to which i replied, “…you could say that.” what i mean is, anything you are curious about is worthy of your attention and curiosity. anything you want to learn is worth learning. there is no such thing as a guilty pleasure when it comes to education.
good writing is a facet of place. the reason i think we believe our writing and research isn’t valid is because we are writing and researching in spaces that are not conducive to our interests. and when we see ourselves not yielding to those which we compare ourselves, it’s easy to think we’re “bad writers.” the key is to find places (publications, platforms, people, etc) that match your aesthetic, somewhere that your work might belong.
think of it this way: if you go to a function filled with foodies in formal wear talking about their yachts, you’re not going to bring celery sticks with peanut butter and raisins. that doesn’t mean ants on a log are a bad snack, but that this party is the wrong place for it. you bring that snack to a kid’s birthday party where you’ll probably have more fun anyway, and suddenly you’re a five-star chef.
don’t conform. take risks. this is something my workshop leader told me when i was concerned about workshopping my novella, and i told her i wanted to “tone it down.” i have gathered that the people who are considered experts in the field of writing are generally all looking for two things in any given work: creativity and whether or not the piece is doing something. (i’ll comment on the latter in the next point.) creativity is about being weird, about making things that don’t exist yet, using your knowledge of the world and filling in all the gaps with your own design. creativity is not about conforming to anyone else’s standards or expectations.
write to “do something” or create a conversation. admittedly i’m pretty accustomed to writing for the sake of self indulgence, which is great for inspiring first drafts but terrible for everything else. i’ve read works where the purpose of them was the complete romanticization or commentary of the self, and while that’s fine for people who already possess considerable ethos (re: celebrities), for people without it, these works aren’t adding to any conversation on any topic besides that writer’s introspection. (note, this is not “bad writing”; it just has a different place, generally a private journal.)
in the world of fanfic, we are all inherently adding to the conversation of a given canon. without that foundation, in the literary world your canon has to become something else: stories about big picture concepts like grief or oppression; stories subverting a popular generalization; stories that give new light to something. genre is thus not about conformity, but having a creative conversation with people who are interested in the same things you are. writing is about inserting yourself into the dialogue, adding to the lexicon of something greater than yourself.
where this breaks down, however, is the idea that some big picture topics are “overdone” such that they become tropes or cliches. tropes and cliches are indications of conformity. without a cohesive knowledge of your genre or interest to know which gaps need filled, it’s easy to fall into these traps of commonality.
positive and summative feedback is more helpful than negative feedback. a lot of people will disagree with me on this, but generally negative feedback is an indication that you didn’t understand the writers’ vision, and are superimposing your own vision over theirs. most people (in my community anyway) transform their negative criticism into questions for the writer to consider, or point out “what isn’t working.”
that said, the idea of summarizing what you just read is incredibly helpful, because it offers the writer insight into the things you picked up and stuck with you. it aligns the writers’ intentions with the reader’s perceptions to see if a story is working the way it should. this supposes, however, that you have an intention to your story, see: the “do something” point.
and mostly, positive criticism is the literal best. not only does it make writers happy, it encourages them to improve and points out the things they’re doing right so they can polish up what works and sweep away what doesn’t. never be afraid to offer compliments, and if something affected you personally or moved you, let the writer know. the best feedback i’ve given is when i point-blank told the writer, “this piece meant a lot to me, and here’s why.”
write about writing. this is a whole school of thought that i haven’t had time to delve into research-wise, but it’s something i make my students do, and it’s something i’m doing right now just by writing this. reflecting about writing solidifies concepts that you’ve learned so that they become easier to implement in future works. so when you’re done with a piece, write yourself a feedback letter about what you wrote, what you thought worked, and what you can improve for next time. if it’s a fic, maybe this could go in a blog post or an author’s note, or maybe you can just keep it for yourself in a journal. but thinking about writing and writing about writing is an enormously effective tool in development.
i hope this helps someone somewhere. even if it doesn’t, i think this is a good platform for reflection. you can read my other writing advice in my writing advice tag, or see a curation of my advice in my masterpost.
Stories may well be lies, but they are good lies that say true things, and which can sometimes pay the rent.
Being a writer is a very peculiar sort of a job: it’s always you versus a blank sheet of paper (or a blank screen) and quite often the blank piece of paper wins.
Question of Smoke 