What Does the Reader Need to Know Next? Writing Stronger Novels

Rosemi Mederos: 00:00

If you have plot bunnies coming out of your plot holes, it’s time for a writing break.

Today I will share the most important question to ask yourself while writing any book of any genre. Cue the angels.

But first, I want to say thank you to the listener who recently commented on not one but two Writing Break episodes on Spotify. I loved, loved, loved seeing your comments. Thank you. I don't get directly notified of comments; a friend just happened to see it. I don't know if there's a way to get directly notified. Anyway, if you've ever commented on a Writing Break episode on any platform and I didn't respond, I apologize. Please do let me know.

In reply to this listener's comment about Storyblocks, which is where we license the music for the show, they have a strict no-AI music policy. If you think any of the music you hear on there is AI-generated, they ask that you report it. I'll add the link to their AI transparency statement in the show notes of this episode.

We're in the final stretch of this genre series. In the next 10 or so episodes, we'll be talking about cross-genre mashups, international genres and storytelling traditions, writing for adaptions, including TV, movies, plays, and video games, writing what you want versus writing what sells, and the future of genres.

In case you missed it, there is a bonus episode about why you should know what genre you're writing. It's . . . hang on a second, episode 137, Pick a Lane: The Key to Reaching the Right Readers. I'll put a link to it in the show notes.

No matter what genre you're writing, there are some things that will be the same for all novelists, which is why today I want to look at the novel in general and what makes novel writing, no matter the genre, challenging.

But first, I'm overthinking the b-word. No, not that b-word. I'm talking about "brand" and this loathsome modern concept that we should think of ourselves as a brand. Will you agree with me, or will you be calling me the actual b-word by the end of it?

The Writing Break cafe is open. I'll meet you on the Overthinking Couch.

This is the 160th episode of Writing Break, and in all that time, I have said one thing about this concept of people as brands, and it was regarding pseudonyms. "Some might argue that using your own name for everything you do in life is a matter of branding, and we know that branding is ruling this century so far."

That's it. Yes, I checked all the transcripts. No, I don't have anything better to do, apparently. I do mention branding as far as corporations a few times, but not people. I didn't think anything of it until last month when I encountered the b-word three times in the same day. I kind of curl my lip when I hear it. Not in disgust, but almost the beginning of a snarl. Do I think I'm being attacked and need to protect myself? I guess so.

So, I asked myself, what's my beef with brand? On an anthropological level, this idea that you are your own brand is fleeting. That kind of preoccupation is a reflection of our consumerism and an understandable desire to figure out a way to make money for just existing. Now, let's overthink this.

Not every human is thinking about themselves as a brand, but those who do will spend a lot of money as well as time trying to convince you that they are a certain way; therefore, you should buy their stuff. And yet, in the end, no matter what, when someone meets you for the first time, they form their own idea of who they think you are. Maybe they even formed an idea of the kind of person you are based on things they heard about you before they even met you. So, the rest of your relationship with this person is working on a confirmation bias. They look at you and interpret things about you in a way that matches what they think about you, whether or not what they think about you is still accurate or was ever accurate. And what's sillier is that whatever idea they formed about you is already based on experiences they had with other people or some story they heard about other people, and, yes, that includes books and movies.

So, you make all this effort, brandwise, and it's not cheap, and they think whatever they want anyway, and they think they're more right about you than you are.

Barenaked Ladies has a song about this called "What a Good Boy." I'll put a link to it in the show notes. The song talks about the way people call babies good, smart, strong, or pretty as soon as they're born. Then it says, "We've got these chains hanging around our necks / People want to strangle us with them before we take our first breath."

Now, I think, if we're doing this human thing right, we are always changing. We're evolving and maybe sometimes even devolving, but changing nonetheless. Self-reflection is a good thing. It's good to know who you are at any given moment. What are your morals, your values, your ethics? But all of that changes the longer you live. Humans will eventually tire of thinking of themselves and other people as brands. It's just another trend. Even if you love keeping up with all the trends, this brand thing is like choosing to live your life as a commercial.

We're not here for long, but we are very alive while we're here; you don't have to spend that time thinking of yourself as a commodity. And I'm a good kid; there's no need to hit me with the b-word.

All right, rant over. Now, let's talk about novels and the one big question to ask yourself while writing.

Novels give us a place to live. First, the novelist builds the house and lives in it a while, getting it just so. Then, they welcome us in, and we get to make it ours in our own way. Novels contain entire worlds that affect us emotionally and psychologically. If they didn’t, no one would read them.

We talked about short stories and novellas recently, which derive their strength from being … well, short. They're lean and strong little sprinters. But a novel is running a marathon. It has to continue rewarding the reader after the premise itself is no longer new. The writer must keep the reader engaged. To accomplish this, novelists have to escalate the story and mess with our emotions while still maintaining structural cohesion. The walls of their lovely home must not fall. And they have to do this for hundreds of pages. It's not easy; at least, not if you're going to do it right.

A manuscript can have beautiful prose, compelling characters, and a strong opening and still fail to sustain itself to the end. Readers might not describe the problem in technical terms, but they recognize when a story begins circling itself. One of my favorite things in my reading life is going to Goodreads when I’m in the middle of a book I don’t like and reading reviews from others who also didn’t like the book. Even if only 5% of reviewers didn’t like the book, I am certain they’re the smartest 5%. I think it’s safe to assume most Goodreads reviewers are not professional editors. I’m certainly not going to critique anything for free. Still, these non-pros are quick to pick up what’s wrong with the book. When I read a review that says something like, “OK, the main character is tall, we get it!” I know the reader has picked up on repeated information that should have been flagged during editing. When I read something like, “the part with the blacksmith and the fire went nowhere,” I know the reader spotted an unnecessary subplot. And one thing that I read quite often is, “This could have been 100 pages shorter.” That’s because the author delayed the story’s progression, maybe to reach a certain word count.

I like to believe that there is an editor behind every book, dutifully pointing everything out; it’s just that some things got vetoed by the rest of the publishing team. That’s pure fantasy, I know, Santa tells me that all the time. However, I have been part of publishing conversations about things like repeated information and unnecessary subplots and have heard people say things like, “I don’t think anyone will mind” or “You really think people will notice?” Sir! Yes, I think people will notice.

The story must continue evolving in meaningful ways, which means fiction writers have to think about scenes, dialogue, tension, all of that, while also making sure the book's rhythm is right. They must decide where revelations belong, how emotional peaks should be spaced, and how relationships will evolve gradually enough to feel believable while still changing enough to sustain engagement.

No matter what your loser ex-lover says, writing novels is psychologically demanding. At some point during the process, many writers become convinced their book has failed. The excitement that fueled the opening chapters disappears. Now they can see structural weaknesses they didn't see before. The middle sags and the ending is no longer clear.

One thing that can help is reviewing your story's architecture because that determines how readers experience the plot.

Architecture includes pacing, escalation, sequencing, emotional variation, information control, revelation placement, chapter placement, chapter rhythm, and tension management. A novel can contain extraordinary material while still feeling shapeless or exhausting if these elements are not considered. I've touched on all of these in past Writing Break episodes.

Make sure your characters are evolving, and remember that you need scene variation. You might think that a reflective scene will slow down your momentum, but if you're doing it right, you've made sure there is enough unresolved tension to keep things from getting sluggish.

Then there's the infamous middle of a novel. This is often where a lot of little darlings live that I then have to convince the author to kill. The middle of a novel becomes difficult because it no longer benefits from novelty, yet the ending is still a ways off. At that point, the story must sustain itself through development, so I guess it’s a good thing that a novel needs layers of engagement operating simultaneously. Readers keep reading because they want to know what happens next, in your plot and to your characters. How do the characters change? What relationships survive? That kind of thing. Your readers don’t expect or even want perfect characters, but they do want growth in your characters, even if they contradict themselves, regress, repeat or repeat mistakes. All shall be forgiven if the character arc is just right.

A weak middle might mean you’ve got too much or too little. Perhaps you introduced too many narrative threads without clear integration, or perhaps your story's premise does not have enough evolving complexity to make it novel-length. Or maybe the conflict is repetitive and the stakes are static. Writers sometimes respond to this by expanding outward, adding in new characters, subplots, and plot twists. But expansion is not the same thing as progression.

Sometimes expansion is necessary, but a strong middle deepens the story instead of just extending it. But, it has to make sense for the book. Make sure you're not adding scenes without moving the story along. If you are worldbuilding, don't mistake information for immersion. Readers become invested when the lore affects the story or the plot; for example, maybe it affects character behavior, social dynamics, emotional stakes, or conflict. The world must participate actively in the story rather than existing beside it as an encyclopedia of interesting facts.

Moving on, how's your stamina? Once your emotions about the book mature, you won't have that initial infatuation period to keep up your writing stamina, which is why discipline is more important than inspiration. You’ll have to hold the entire structure in your mind long enough to finish it coherently.

You might get to a point where you're not sure where the story is going, you're not sure if it's any good, and you're not even sure you know who you are anymore. If that happens, you must keep writing.

The big question to ask yourself as you’re writing is, “What does the reader need to know next?” Not what happens next, but what does the reader need to know next?

Before we part ways, here’s your overthinking prompt. Take your current work in progress and examine what changes emotionally, psychologically, and structurally. What keeps the story generating momentum? What earns the reader’s continued attention? Are the relationships evolving meaningfully and in a believable way? Do the stakes get deeper? Is there enough tension? Are your themes clear, and do they have depth? Will the reader’s understanding of the story continue expanding over time? What does the reader need to know next?

Next time, we’re going to talk about how to combine genres without confusing your readers.

Thank you so much for listening, and remember, you deserved this break.

Thank you for making space in your mind for the muse today. Writing Break is hosted by America’s Editor and produced by Allon Media with technical direction by Gus Aviles. Visit us at writingbreak.com or contact us at podcast@writingbreak.com.