The Writing Company · with the Mayor

Write a Story

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Write a Story

You have learned the moves. Now you get to spend all of them at once, on a story of your own.

Every story you have ever loved has the same few parts working underneath it. Here is what to put in, and what each part does for your reader.

A narrator who cares

Somebody is telling this story, and they want to tell it. The reader should know who the narrator is and why this moment matters to them.
Characters the reader comes to know

At least one person besides the narrator, with enough detail that the reader can picture them. Not a list of traits. A person.
A setting the reader can stand in

A place and a time, anchored with a detail or two the reader can see, hear, or smell. "The kitchen" is a label. "The bright kitchen with egg white all over the counter" is a place.
A sequence of events

Things happen, in an order, and each one moves the story forward. First this, then because of that, then this. The order is the story.
A conclusion that lands

The story comes to a close that follows from everything before it. Not "and then I woke up." An ending the reader feels.

Spend your tools

And woven through all of it, the craft moves you already know. Here they are, pointed at a story.

Nelson · Specific nouns

A noun names a person, a place, a thing, or an idea, so name it precisely. "Food" files under vague. "Fried eggs and mashed potatoes" files under done.

We made food. We fried eggs and mashed potatoes.

Vinny · Strong verbs

A weak verb just stands there. A strong verb charges in and rescues the whole sentence. The smoke did not go everywhere. It filled the kitchen.

The smoke went everywhere. Smoke filled the kitchen.

Jake · Show, do not tell

Could we be more specific? Do not tell me you were nervous. Show me the hands wiped on the jeans, and I will feel it for myself.

I was nervous. I checked the recipe three times and wiped my hands on my jeans.

Connie · Sentence variety

A short sentence lands hard. A longer one, joined with a conjunction, gives your reader room to breathe. Try both, and let them take turns.

The butter burned and the kitchen filled with smoke and we opened a window. The butter burned. Smoke filled the kitchen, so we threw open a window and kept going.

The Mayor · Voice

Every piece of writing has a reader. Match your words to yours. A story for a friend sounds warm and easy, not like a report to the principal.

The subject prepared a meal for the aforementioned parents. We were making a real dinner, and neither of us had a clue.

The Mayor · Three-part structure

A story stands on three parts: a beginning that opens the door, a middle where something goes wrong, and an ending that earns its feeling. Point to all three, and you have built a story.

A pile of things that happened, in no real order. We decided to cook. The kitchen fell apart. They ate every bite, and I was proud.

The Story Plan

In the Writing Company we do not start writing and hope. We plan the trip first. Here is my plan, and here is how I aim it at a story.

The Mayor's Power Plan

Pick it. Choose the idea worth the trip.
Plan it. Map your notes before you go.
Pour it on. Write, and keep pouring: more detail, more feeling, more of what only you know.

The Seven Story Questions

Answer all seven and the trip is packed.

Who is the main character?
When does the story take place?
Where does the story take place?
What does the main character do or want to do?
What happens when they try to do it?
How does the story end?
How does the main character feel?

Writers remember them as W-W-W, What = 2, How = 2. Say it out loud once. It sticks.

Watch the Mayor plan it

Watch me run the plan on the story you have been following: the night our writer cooked dinner for Garvin's parents' anniversary.

Pick it. The brainstorm found four proud memories: the cooking night, a handstand, a coat, an address. I pick the cooking night. It has other people in it, something goes wrong, and it ends at a table. Stories live in moments like that.

Plan it.

Who? Me, and my best friend Garvin. His parents, Mr. and Mrs. James, are in it at the end.
When? About six months ago, in the evening, after Garvin's soccer game.
Where? Garvin's house, mostly the kitchen.
What do I want to do? Cook a real anniversary dinner, even though Garvin has never fried an egg.
What happens when I try? Nearly everything goes wrong. Egg white shoots across the counter. The butter burns and the kitchen fills with smoke.
How does it end? Mr. and Mrs. James eat every bite of the dinner we made.
How do I feel? So proud I actually patted myself on the back.

Pour it on. Seven answers, and the story already has a beginning, a middle full of trouble, and an ending that earns its feeling. Question five is where your story lives. A story where nothing goes wrong when the character tries is not a story. It is a commute.

Eight ways to prewrite

Before you plan your own, here are eight prewriting tools, run on that same memory. Watch how different the same night looks through each one. Open any card.

Freewrite A stream of thought. Go wherever your brain takes you.

There have only been a couple of times when I was so proud I patted myself on the back. I was at my friend Garvin's house, and his parents are both really good cooks. Garvin wanted to do something nice for their anniversary, but he did not know how to cook, so he asked me to help.

What it gave us. A meander. It starts at pride, drifts, and lands on the kitchen. Your job afterward is to find the strand worth keeping.

Brainstorm If it pops into your head, it goes on the page.

Cooked dinner for Garvin's parents. Showed Garvin how to fry an egg. Taught myself a handstand. Gave my sister my coat when it was cold. Memorized my address when I was six.

What it gave us. Options. The brainstorm found four different proud memories, not one. It widens the search before you commit.

Cluster An organized brainstorm. Lines show which ideas belong together.

Center: cooked dinner for Garvin's parents. Branching out: his parents are great cooks, I was nervous, eggs for dinner, we spilled egg yolk, lots of butter, smoky in the kitchen, patted myself on the back.

What it gave us. Relationships. The cluster picks one idea and grows it. The handstand and the coat are gone now. We have chosen our story.

5W and H The journalist's six questions.

Who? Garvin, his parents, and me. What? Fried eggs and mashed potatoes. Where? Garvin's kitchen. When? Evening, after his soccer game. Why? Their anniversary. How? We bought the food with Garvin's savings.

What it gave us. Coverage. Six slots force out details a freewrite skips, like the time of day and whose money paid for it.

Venn Diagram Two circles that overlap. Good for comparing two parts of your story.

Frying eggs only: easy to mess up, sizzling sound, need a spatula. Mashing potatoes only: fun to mash, takes an hour, big pot. Both: cooked on the stove, need salt.

What it gave us. A comparison you can use. The trick: it compares two parts of the same night, not the night to something else. Prewriting can zoom you in.

Five Senses See, hear, taste, smell, touch. The tool for sensory detail.

See: the bright kitchen and the total mess of egg white. Hear: the egg sizzling and the water bubbling. Smell: burning butter and peeling potatoes. Touch: the hot pan handle and the cold counter.

What it gave us. Specifics. Not "the kitchen smelled good." Burning butter. That is the level of detail that puts a reader in the room.

Series of Events A list of what happened, in order. The tool for narrative.

I went to Garvin's house. We decided to cook. Garvin squeezed an egg too hard and the white went everywhere. I peeled potatoes and almost cut my finger. I burned the butter and smoke filled the kitchen. Mr. and Mrs. James ate everything. I was so proud.

What it gave us. Order. The events line up first to last, and it surfaces moments a freewrite glossed over. Sequence is the bones of a story.

Character Sketch Everything about one character. Pick the details that help the story.

Garvin has been my best friend since we were three. Short curly hair, three inches taller than me. He loves chocolate and cheeseburgers, in that order. He is goofy, he loves practical jokes, and he gets genuinely angry if you eat his dessert.

What it gave us. A real person. Not every detail makes the final story, but knowing Garvin this well means the Garvin in the story acts like himself.

A story writer usually reaches for the Series of Events, the Character Sketch, and the Five Senses first. But any of the eight can crack a story open. Pick the tool that fits the gap you have.

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