The Best Writing Advice I’ve Heard (3 Tips that Changed My Approach to Storytelling)

Feb 15

The best writing advice I’ve heard doesn’t have to do with specific tips on prose or story structure.

Instead, I’m going to focus on 3 different teachers that taught 3 different versions of the same idea. An idea that has reshaped the way I look at stories and writing. An idea that cuts away all of the excess to get at the heart of YOU—who you are, what you like, and how you best tell stories.

Up first, Jennifer Lynn Barnes and Writing for Your Id.

Writing Advice in Your Id

Jennifer Lynn Barnes, author of The Inheritance Games series (among many others), gave a talk at a Romance Writers of America convention. I purchased it (well worth the price, in my opinion) and listened to it twice within a week.

I’m going to sum up what she said because it was the first step that started to crack open my mindset and approach to storytelling, although I highly encourage you to go listen for yourself, because I obviously can’t and won’t cover everything.

Stories and Cheesecake

Basically, the premise of Barnes’ talk is based on the idea that we, as humans, have evolved to like fiction because, more than anything else, it causes a dopamine release, similar to what happens when we eat foods high in fat and sugar.

In that sense, she likens stories to cheesecake. It comes from the theory that we crave a really good story in the same way and for the same reason we crave a really great cheesecake.

(This hit home for me when she asked the audience to think of something we love so much (love triangles, dystopian stories, swapped at birth, etc.), we would be willing to sit through a terrible story in order to experience it. Think in the vein of Hallmark (romance) or Lifetime (danger) movies.)

Barnes’ went on to relate her personal experience as a published writer.

She explained that, much to her confusion, her early books often have higher readership. This didn’t make sense, because she felt like she was continually developing in her skill and craft. So why would people enjoy her earlier “worse” books more?

The answer? Barnes posed that as beginner writers, we often include more events, characters, details, settings, concepts, ideas, etc. that trigger that dopamine hit we get from good stories (or cheesecake).

Or, as Barnes refers to it, as newbie storytellers we’re more likely to include things that push the pleasure buttons in our brains.

Unfortunately, often the more we write, the more likely we are to self-edit those basic pleasures out of our work, in favor of something we deem “more original.”

She identifies several of these “pleasure buttons,” including:

Beauty (beautiful characters, majestic settings, etc.)
Competition (rivalries, battles, etc.)
Danger (dangerous moments, characters, etc.)
Power (influence, royalty, skill, etc.)
Touch (romantic, friendship, animals, etc.)

After Barnes discussed different big picture “pleasure buttons,” she went on to encourage the audience to come up with their own list of personal “pleasure buttons.”

For example, I enjoy whimsical sidekicks, fairy godmothers, gothic mansions, and stories set in New England (although this is just a tiny sampling—my list is currently expanding into the hundreds).

This personal “id” list (referring to Freud’s theory of the id, the primitive and instinctual part of the mind) is key, and is the basic idea that will continue to intertwine with the other two teachers I’ll highlight, next up being the Duffer Brothers and Conceiving Your Idea

2. Writing Advice in Stories You Love

Finding the Thread

As you’ll soon see, Season 1 of Stranger Things is one of my very favorite stories. So I jumped at the chance to watch the Duffer Brothers’ Masterclass when it went live.

There are many fabulous insights and tips throughout their class, so again, I encourage you to watch it for yourself if you’re able to, but the idea they touched on that taps directly into Jennifer Lynn Barnes’ theory is simple:

The brothers explained that in coming up with their concept for Stranger Things, they looked to their favorite stories to find specific threads that weaved through all of them.

Sound familiar? They were looking for their personal pleasure buttons! Specifically, they talked about building the idea for Stranger Things based on stories like:

Jaws
Poltergeist
Friday the 13th
E.T.
The Goonies
The Thing
Stephen King novels
Government conspiracies like the JFK assassination

In looking at these, the Duffer Brothers realized that their pleasure buttons included: extraordinary meeting ordinary, government conspiracies, particular horror elements, supernatural creatures.

In other words, they looked to their favorite stories (both in fiction and in the world around them), asked themselves what specifically it was about them they liked, and then started to put those pieces together to craft their own idea. One sure to release all kinds of dopamine in their brains.

This idea will really come to fruition as we look to the last teacher: Greg McKeown and his thoughts on essentialism.

3. Writing Advice in Cutting Away the Excess

To Decide Means to Cut Off

Greg McKeown’s book, Essentialism encapsulates these ideas in an interesting way.

While it has absolutely nothing to do with writing fiction, it does speak to cutting away the excess and focusing on, you guessed it, what you like.

In short, McKeown spends the book arguing that, because we naturally cannot have or experience everything, true peace, enjoyment, and happiness comes from intentionally limiting what we have/do/experience by making meaningful choices.

Here is an excerpt from the book’s blurb:

“Essentialism is…a systematic discipline for discerning what is absolutely essential, then eliminating everything that is not, so we can make the highest possible contribution.

By forcing us to apply more selective criteria for what is Essential, the disciplined pursuit of less empowers us to reclaim control of our own choices about where to spend our precious time and energy.

Essentialism is…about doing less, but better.”

What if we looked at that idea specifically in terms of our writing?

We can’t do everything well, but if we constrain ourselves by figuring out what we actually like and want to put out into the world, we can make the highest possible contribution. We can do less, but better.

It’s incredibly freeing to realize that not only can we NOT do everything, but we don’t actually want to.

I used to get stressed every time I came across a new great story that was not in my chosen genre. When I would read an excellent literary fiction or thriller or rom-com I’d start to feel confused, insecure, and overwhelmed. I’d think things like:

I can’t write this kind of book!
This social commentary is so much more important than what I’m saying.
This story is using x, y, and z tactics, but I can’t figure out how those would all fit into my current WIP…

But here’s the thing:

I didn’t actually want to write a literary fiction, rom-com, or thriller.
I didn’t want to focus on that method of commentary.
I didn’t want to include X, Y, or Z in my WIP.

Instead, after listening to these teachers, I was able to get honest with myself and turn to the idea of essentialism.

This meant that while I am capable of enjoying and appreciating all kinds of stories, I only (at the moment) want to write the story I’m focusing on.

Because of this insight, when I would start to feel intimidated by a great literary fiction, I could remind myself to enjoy it as a reader and forget about trying to emulate it. Because it didn’t actually have the threads/pleasure buttons/id concepts that I want in my story.

Writing Advice Summary: 3 Teachers, 1 Idea

Putting it all together

Now is where this writing advice comes together into something tangible. A simple 3-step process that will help you uncover the types of stories you love and want to write, and allow you to actually do it.

It will help you to make the highest contribution by doing less, but better.

Figure out what you actually like in stories by:
1. Looking for your specific pleasure buttons
2. Turning to your favorite stories and uncovering the common threads that run through them
Use those threads and ideas to create a concept of your own
Constrain so that you focus only on these details in one project at a time

Example

As an example (because I love examples), here is what this process looked like for me:

I am focusing at the moment on writing children’s fantasy. I came to this decision after trying out other types of stories and realizing how much easier it was for me to write in this chosen genre.

So I decided to constrain myself. For the moment, at least.

Next, I asked myself what stories I LOVE. Not just really like, not just greatly enjoyed, but love. To the point that I consume them (in different formats) over and over again. To the point that I feel a strong personal and emotional connection.

More specifically, I looked for stories that would lend themself to the type of book I am currently focused on writing.

I came up with 5 stories and 3 honorable mentions:

Favorites (in no particular order):

Howl’s Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones
Stranger Things (Season 1—I like the other seasons, but I LOVE season 1, and for my writing purposes, I wanted to narrow it down to a more contained story, since I tend to do a lot of studying/breaking down of my favorites)
Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine
To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before by Jenny Han
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte

Honorable Mentions:

Nettle and Bone by T. Kingfisher
Every Summer After by Carley Fortune
Fable by Adrienne Young

The next thing I did was start to look for threads that weave through each of these stories. I thought about tropes, characters, settings, problems, antagonists, details, moments, dialogue, motivation, etc., and asked what pieces were pushing my personal pleasure buttons.

In other words: why did I love these stories so much?

The stories I identified cover different genres, worlds, and age categories, and yet I came up with 7 common threads that appeared in every single story, plus 6 additional details that were in almost all of the stories.

This list isn’t meant to convince you to love these specific pleasure buttons.

Rather, it’s meant to show you how I went through the process so that you can repeat it for yourself and find your personal pleasure buttons that will help you craft a story you’re obsessed with.

Universal threads:

Small problems

Recently, I picked up a book I was sure I was going to love. The beginning had me hooked, and I was sure that I was headed nose-first into a new favorite. And then…I lost steam. I grew more frustrated with the story and ended up having to push myself to finish.

So I asked myself why.

Figuring out what you don’t like in stories is often just as revealing and figuring out what you do. After all, the story in question was well written. It had good worldbuilding, thoughtful characters, beautiful prose, interesting magic systems. There was no obvious reason I didn’t like it.

And then it hit me: the conflict/problem was too large.

I realized that I like small, personal problems. I’d rather read about a girl trying to break a curse that turned her into an old woman (Howl’s Moving Castle) than a girl trying to save a kingdom from destruction (Sorcery of Thorns, the book I read that, again, was very well written and just may hit all of your pleasure buttons).

I’d rather read about a man trying to put together the mystery of how he ended up on a ship with dead companions and no memories (Project Hail Mary) than why science at large seems to have stopped following any sort of laws (The Three-Body Problem—a book I detested, but everyone else in my book club gave 5 stars—because it hit their pleasure buttons!).
Quiet to bold arc

Each of my 5 favorite stories features a female protagonist (number 5 on this list) that starts out a bit mousy and quiet, hiding from the world and swallowing her emotions.

BUT THEN, she encounters the events of her story and begins to move along her character arc. And, for different reasons, ends up becoming a bolder, braver, more expressive version of herself.

Yeah. I like this. I relate to it. It pushes my pleasure buttons.
Protagonist’s problem based in sacrifice

I think sacrifice is a fairly universal pleasure button. When it’s earned and emotional, the tears tend to flow.

But I especially love a self-sacrificing protagonist. I love when a protagonist is faced with a choice to either have what they want, or to do the right thing, and they choose to sacrifice.

In Jane Eyre, Jane sacrifices the love of her life because she’s not willing to compromise her morals. In To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, Lara Jean moves past her feelings for a boy when he starts to date her sister. Because she would sacrifice for her sisters every time.

However, I also have a caveat. For example, I couldn’t get on board with A Court of Thorn and Roses because the opening chapters had the protagonist sacrificing, yes, but she was doing it in a way that was self-pitying. While reading it, I felt like she was playing a martyr.

To be fair, I don’t know these books well. I enjoyed the first one well enough, but it ultimately wasn’t hitting my pleasure buttons, so I didn’t continue with the series. I just couldn’t get over my first impression. But it did help me to better understand this pleasure button: sacrifice from a protagonist who never feels sorry for herself.
Strong emotional bonds (especially with elements of chosen family)

If you’ve played around on the blog, you’ve probably heard me talk about found family. I love this trope. But I realized, more specifically, this pleasure button is grounded in the fact that found/chosen family plays into strong emotional bonds.

In To All the Boys that bond comes through in the sister relationships. In Howl’s Moving Castle, it’s with Calcifer, Michael, and Howl.

I especially love it when that element of sacrifice comes into play, testing these emotional bonds and making them stronger. For example, in Stranger Things at one point or another several characters are willing to put themselves in danger if it means finding Will Byers.
First love

This one finally became clear to me when I was putting together this post. I was trying to figure out why I loved Every Summer After so much. Especially because I had some seriously complicated feelings about the big plot points.

But ultimately, it’s a story of first love, like all 5 of my favorites. If I’m reading about a deep first love, I’m almost certainly going to be sucked into the story. First loves give me all the feels. It hits my pleasure buttons.
Female protagonist

Very self-explanatory. This pleasure button became obvious when I was having a discussion with my husband about favorite sitcoms growing up. He thought I had an unfortunate gap in my viewing because I grew up in a white middle-class family and therefore missed out on great Black sitcoms. While this was certainly true to an extent, (I didn’t watch a lot of Family Matters or Fresh Prince of Bel-Air), I absolutely loved Sister, Sister; The Proud Family; and That’s So Raven. Because I could relate with the female protagonists!
Secretly kind-hearted love interest

Another big pleasure button for me is layers. Onions have layers, ogres have layers, bean dips have layers, and every great character has layers.

In the Duffer Brothers’ Masterclass, they call this the “John Hughes Effect,” a la The Breakfast Club.

For me, specifically, I go hard for a great love interest that has a secretly kind heart. Sure, he has the reputation of literally eating young girls’ hearts (Howl), of being a player (Peter Kavinsky), or of being a prickly, confirmed bachelor (Edward Rochester). But once you start peeling back those layers, you get to see the thoughtful, kind, vulnerable, scared side of them. And it’s oh-so-sweet.
Angsty Absence

Turns out, I love a good angsty absence. All I mean by this is that in each of these stories, the love interests spend a little time apart, during which each of them deals with a good bout of angsty emotions (longing, heartbreak, unrequited love, remorse, etc.). This time apart ranges from just over a day to more than a year. But the absence does both of them some good, as well as deepening their connection so that it’s emotionally impactful when they do reunite.
Dramatic Obstacles Keeping Them Apart

I am a big romance fan. It’s mighty hard for a story to end up as one of my favorites if it doesn’t feature a significant romantic plot or subplot.

Even better is when that romance is put up against dramatic obstacles. Meddling parents (Papa in Stranger Things), different social classes (To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before), betrayal (Every Summer After; Jane Eyre), secrets (Howl’s Moving Castle; Ella Enchanted), rules, outside love interests, etc.

It’s a pretty wide pleasure button—one that will likely be found on some level in every romance—but that doesn’t make it any less necessary for me. I just want it to be nice and juicy, with a good dose of drama (even in a story that’s overall more lighthearted).

Common threads:

I won’t go into detail with these common threads. They’re fairly self-explanatory. But to finish this up, I also love a story that has:

Fantastical elements/magic
Wholesome/whimsical/heartwarming/sincere tone
Strong worldbuilding
Compelling mystery
A protagonist who has a personal relationship with the antagonist

I do want to make a note here. Again, this is a personal pleasure button, but I love a strong emotional bond that ties the protagonist and antagonist together. Maybe it’s completely intangible, like Jo and her relationship with the change and the passage of time in Little Women. Or maybe it’s an actual relationship, like Eleven and Papa in Stranger Things.

This was a big problem I had with Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. I loved Newt Scamander as a character, but ultimately I had to ask myself why he was the protagonist in this story. He had absolutely no connection or relationship to the main antagonist! I want the emotionality that comes from a juicy history between the two conflicting characters.
Simple, straightforward writing style

Again, this was a revelation I had while putting this post together, and it’s a great place to finish up so that you can ask yourself what type of writing style you prefer.

For me, I can absolutely enjoy more ornate, atmospheric prose. I can appreciate the skill and beauty that goes into great metaphors. But to really get lost in a story, I prefer the writing to be straightforward enough that I forget I’m reading and fall instead into the characters and events. It’s one of the reasons I get so swept up in Taylor Jenkins Reid’s writing. She lets her characters shine by moving her prose to the background.

But again, this is just a choice. There are fabulous books that have very eloquent and lyrical prose. They’re probably just not going to become one of my all-time favorites that I read over and over again.

I wanted to make a note of this because it may be a good jumping off point in terms of discovering your personal pleasure buttons.

What type of writing, on a prose level, makes you stop counting pages and lose yourself in a story?

Or maybe that’s not even what you want. Maybe you don’t want to blaze through pages at all. Maybe, instead, you want to slowly drink in unique and thought-provoking poetry-like writing.

There’s no right or wrong answer, just another opportunity to cut away the excess when it comes to your writing and own what’s true for you.