Category: Narrative Craft

Some stories feel like they’re missing something. Not just a small detail—a fundamental piece of logic, a gap in the timeline, a hole in the world that shouldn’t be there. You reread a scene and feel it immediately: there’s something off. The moment doesn’t connect to what came before. The transition feels jarring, incomplete. Somewhere…

Some days, writing feels effortless. The words flow, the ideas connect, the story unfolds as if it’s already written somewhere and you’re just pulling it onto the page. Other days? It’s like staring into a void. Nothing comes. The words won’t land. The ideas that made sense yesterday feel distant, like they belong to someone…

Some stories write themselves. You sit down with a vague idea, expecting to struggle through every sentence, but then… something takes over. The words come faster than you can think. The characters speak before you know what they’re going to say. The plot twists appear fully formed, as if they were waiting for you to…

Some sentences move like poetry—clean, sharp, deliberate. Others wander, stretching across the page, dragging the reader through a labyrinth of commas and clauses, looping back on themselves before finally—mercifully—stumbling to a halt. You’ve read these sentences. You’ve probably written them. They start out fine, then suddenly, you’re adding another phrase, then a parenthetical aside (because…

Some books never make it past the halfway point. They start strong. The first few chapters are electric. The characters feel real. The plot is unfolding beautifully. And then—something happens. The momentum fades. Doubt creeps in. The once-exciting book starts to feel like work, and you tell yourself you’ll come back to it later, when…

Some stories don’t crash—they slowly collapse inward. They start with momentum. The premise is strong. The characters are compelling. The beginning flows like magic, and then… something shifts. The energy fades. The plot gets tangled. Chapters start feeling directionless, like they exist just to fill space. You tell yourself you’ll fix it in revision, but…

Some writers never run out of ideas. Their notebooks are overflowing. Their hard drives are cluttered with half-written drafts, character sketches, outlines for books they “might” write someday. Every passing thought gets documented, every potential story tucked away in case they need it later. But here’s the problem: they never actually write the books. They…

Some writers swear they can only write at night. It’s not just a habit—it’s something deeper. The words come easier. The distractions fade. The world goes quiet, and suddenly, writing feels different. Maybe it’s the lack of pressure, or maybe it’s something stranger—something about the way midnight bends time, how the space between today and…

Most writers dream of being recognized for their words. Ghostwriters do the opposite. They write in secret, their work published under someone else’s name, their voices disguised. They tell stories that aren’t theirs to claim, crafting books that they will never get credit for. For some, ghostwriting is just a job—words for hire, a paycheck,…

Writing isn’t just an act of creativity—it’s an act of transformation. A writer takes raw, abstract thoughts and turns them into something structured, something real. The words didn’t exist before, but now they do. The intangible becomes tangible. It’s alchemy, in a way. In ancient alchemy, the goal was to transform lead into gold—to take…