If you haven’t already heard, I published my first ever complete work of fiction a few weeks ago:
Starlight Season 1: Extraterrestrial, Supernatural, Unconventional.
It’s an episodic short story collection about the alien, the supernatural, and the esoteric. If you like stories that are exciting, sexy, dramatic, comedic, and heartwarming, you’ll enjoy this.
But I’m not here to talk about the story.
I’m here to talk about how I made it.
I wouldn’t change a thing about it. In my opinion, it’s perfect. I never get tired of re-reading it. I put a year of my life into writing it, and it was shelved for another year during that.
When I started this project in early 2021, I wrote the first 4 stories/episodes in a bit over a month, half-wrote the next three that summer, then shelved it for a year. I got back to it in late 2022. Wrote the bulk of a later story + fragments of another, then finished up my half-written ones. I got 10 stories done by Fall of 2023, along with two other half-written stories, one of which I ended up scrapping entirely, and one that I stitched into the second book’s first story. The original plan was 13, but 10 stories ended up being perfect.
The process wasn’t perfect. Along the way, I scrapped entire chapters, scenes, and subplots I’d written that just wouldn’t work in the final product. I had weeks on end, months on end, and even once, a year where nothing new got written. During final edits, I obsessively edited the manuscript multiple times a week, almost every week, making minor edits to word choice, punctuation, and structure (usually while sipping liquor or seltzers). This was the really fun part.
Now I’m working on the second book in the series. I already have Chapter/Story/Episode 1 finished, I’m in the middle of writing the second one, I have a later one partially complete, and when I have 10 stories finished, Starlight Season 2 will be out as well.
Then my plan is to give the Starlight series a long break while working on other aspirations of mine, and cap the Starlight series at 5 books in the long run.
I’m not just an obsessive writer and editor. I’m an obsessive reader. I’m an incredibly competitive person, to the point of suicidal detriment during times I haven’t seemingly won at life. I care deeply for ethically outperforming the competition in every conceivable way, and constantly need to remind myself of what roles I’m actually here to play, and which ones I can never win at no matter how competent I get.
I constantly read books I find to be amazing, both to entertain myself and to note what about them works and engages me so much. I also constantly read manuscripts + published works I consider low-quality, so I can think “thank God I didn’t write THAT”, and note what about them makes them an unexciting, unengaging pain to read.
These are the principles of good storytelling I’d unconsciously follow while writing and editing Starlight Season 1:
Any time I’m stuck on what to write next, I remind myself of them (and times I didn’t follow them, leading to a scrapped WIP). I even have them written in a note on my phone, as well as a more extensive analysis of why certain stories work while others don’t.
Now I’ll go into more depth about them, and hopefully your own works will benefit, or you’ll at least be entertained.
Anyhoo. A good story is…
About what IS, not preaching what “should be”
Evangelizing your audience into thinking differently is an impossible task.
They’re the authorities of their own realities, and they already think/feel/believe what they find to be right and correct and appropriate for their own lives.
Rather, you double down on what they already find to be true, or present a viewpoint meant to be disagreed with. A lot of interesting stories star characters whose views on life are psychopathic, misogynistic, regressive, hateful, demonic, etc…
Your characters should have their views on life, their moral codes (or lack thereof), and their philosophies, but these work best when they’re contested AND when they cause issues in the character’s life.
Depict your main character’s viewpoint – their thoughts/feelings/values, their explanations of “how it is”, and what they enjoy and don’t enjoy about this world and their life – without fighting or challenging those of a reader’s.
Challenge the character’s viewpoint. Either another character disagrees with it and sees the world totally differently, or that character’s realizing they aren’t right about everything as they face their own blind spots.
Your reader’s here for entertainment. Not evangelization. Not a rigid, uncontested viewpoint. If they wanted philosophy or advice on self-improvement, they’d be reading a philosophy or self-improvement book, not a story.
Set up by mystery, by unanswered questions
A good story does get your audience thinking, just not differently.
Unanswered questions create tension, which excites the audience and gets them eager to find out THE TRUTH.
Whereas if you just hand it all to them, there’s nothing to look forward to. Nothing left to the imagination.
When you excessively world-build and start your story off explaining or going through all the rituals, communities, organizations, people, and events that the character and reader are about to see in their entirety, you’re no longer a storyteller. You’re a lecturer.
Rather, give your reader a few pieces of the puzzle and let them be the one to put it together. Let them be like your annoying brother or girlfriend or friend-with-benefits who asks questions like “wait, who is that?”, “what did they mean by..?” while watching a movie with you.
I’ve always unintentionally done this, not because I knew this principle, but because I was a lazy writer and didn’t feel like writing out every detail of how my fictitious world and its inhabitants are. It worked out well.
Now, the opposite of this is another sin, which is the reader asking every question about what’s going on at the beginning of a story, with shit-quality opening scene prose like
“she washed the bloodstained mattress in the creek as two large figures danced against the night’s backdrop. she silently cursed as a familiar person entered her view. she stood up and blah blah blah”
Okay, I don’t know who the hell “she” is, especially since you didn’t give her a name or personality or any personal goals or even describe her in the fucking slightest. I have no idea what a “figure” is supposed to be, since you also didn’t describe it in the fucking slightest outside of a generic adjective that could apply to fucking anything. And for fuck’s sake, that person may be familiar to whoever the hell “she” is, but sure isn’t familiar to me.
Free of mundane musings, full of tension
Your story is meant to differ from mundane reality and give the audience an escape from it, not to repeat things they already personally experience.
You certainly care about your morning routine, what route you take to work or school and what you see along the way, the brand of your phone or watch or car or coat, every little ingredient that goes into your meals, paying your phone bill on time, and the technical specifications of your DSLR’s lenses, because these are things a real person would find interesting about their own life. And your characters sure care for these too.
But no one else does. Especially not your reader.
Real-life people you meet don’t give a shit whether your watch is a Timex or an Invicta, whether your phone’s camera is 16MP or 108MP, whether you had Subway or an intricately-cooked meal with just the right combination of sauces and spices for dinner, or when the last time you wiped down your kitchen counter was. And neither does your reader when they meet your character.
Far too often when I read a WIP or a published story that SUCKS or just needs improvement, the author’s telling the story of a real person’s mundane day in first-person, not a story a reader will enjoy, where only the tension and the action get attention, while the unremarkable and unexciting things get none of it.
Free of liminal spaces, full of plot points
I made this mistake constantly when I was writing the first Starlight book.
I half-wrote at least 3 chapters that were solely driven by characters reminiscing on their life and their past, making plans for the uncertain future, and speculating on how their life will go from here, then perhaps spending quality time with another character while their life moves forward.
Those got scrapped, and the one with genuine character development got its good bits stitched into a more action-packed story.
Every part of your story needs to move the action and the unfolding of Divine Creation forward. You can’t repeat something exactly like a past moment, unless it’s expected as part of a procedural format. No part of the story should be “waiting” for action, or taking a break from it. Quiet, drama-filled scenes where characters talk about their lives should either set up and lead up to action, or tie up loose ends after more action-packed parts.
This isn’t real life, where most days are mundane and forgettable, and only rarely do you experience a day that’s incredibly joyful, eventful, or heartbreaking that sticks with you for the rest of your life.
Again, your reader is here to ESCAPE from their mundane life, not to experience more of the routines, commutes, harmonious small-talk, and inner reminiscings that make that mundane life what it is.
Here’s what I do to stop my stories from being boring and uneventful:
I go to a random page in the manuscript, and imagine I’m a curious reader in a bookstore flipping to a random page to see if the book’s any good. If the reader would think “this book absolutely FUCKS” from just that one scene, I keep it.
If you need knowledge of prior events to know what’s going on, or the scene is just a boring one between two engaging ones, I improve it or delete it.
Your reader’s here to be entertained and excited and emotionally engaged, not to patiently wait for the moment where they’re entertained and excited and emotionally engaged.
Where shit goes wrong, not right
I used to be unable to predict when I’d have a day of creative flow, and when I’d have days or weeks on end of a creative drought.
Why is it that when I started writing the first Starlight book, I wrote a literal THIRD of it in under two months, then had no damn clue where to take it from there? I used to be lost on this.
These stories never start effortlessly flowing until I clearly define the villain.
Character versus WHAT?
A homicidal alien from another planet?
Her insecurities about having felt unwanted and undesired in high school? That the Devil promises to fix… For a price?
A suicide cult that consumes the willing participants’ hearts?
His slow, heartbreaking, crippling realization that working as a black-ops alien-hunting agent means he’s rapidly outgrowing his former normie civilian life and can no longer relate to nor connect with his peers beyond the bare minimum superficial things? And now he’s relapsing with his old drug habit to cope with it?
A time loop where after a lonely, many-years-long dry spell, he finally meets a woman who’s interested in him, then wakes up 24 hours earlier without her in his arms every time the loop resets? And he doesn’t even attract her every time he meets her?
A psychopath dark magician from 200 years in the future whose plan to plunge our Earth into Hell is seemingly unstoppable?
Interesting stories, right?
When I have the “Character Versus WHAT?” question fully figured out, that’s when I have work days where I’m unable to stop writing scenes because I enjoy the process too goshdarn much. All of these stories and scenes are fantastic enough to be left in the final product.
If your story doesn’t constantly have “oh shit, how am I gonna get out of this one?” moments, it sucks.
Harmony and predictability are the enemies of a good story.
Made of multiple viewpoints
The excitement and tension that make a story emotionally engaging come entirely from conflicting in-universe viewpoints.
Why this is, I could write at least a few mind-numbingly boring essays explaining it. Instead, I’ll let you logically deduce why, without me giving it all to you.
Harmony is the enemy of a good story.
Some assorted examples of potential good conflicts of viewpoint:
A guy who’s saving his sex for commitment + A guy who wants to bang as many girls as possible having a conversation about their views on sex/dating/relationships
A privileged yuppie + A working-class person having a conversation about work and money
A middle-aged woman who’s been married multiple times + A teenage girl who’s never even kissed a boy talking about men
An immortal being who’s been alive for hundreds or thousands of years + A 30something mortal human talking about the worst things they’ve been through
A person from a small African village + A person from New York City talking about how they grew up
An open-hearted person who embraces diverse views + A closed-hearted cynic with rigid, dogmatic, inflexible views on life
There are infinite viewpoints you could contrast within your stories, but sometimes, good drama or comedy can come from the tension between two aligning viewpoints. Ex. In Frasier, a lot of the comedy comes from Frasier and Niles being so similar, not different. Not only that, but how their in-group views contrast with less wealthy and less snobby peoples’.
Any time things become too calm and harmonious, your story’s coming to an end. There’s nothing left to discover, nothing left to resolve, nothing left to feel excited for.
Don’t end the excitement and tension too early, or refuse to introduce it at all.
Not too real
The rules of reality in fiction differ from this real world’s. Things don’t have to go exactly like they would in this world. If the reader wanted complete reality, they’d go outside instead of consuming a story.
In fiction:
- Guns regularly get fired indoors
- Teenagers often become wizards or super-spies who save the world
- Guys can get in shape, cover their face, and bring justice to their city as a street vigilante
- High school is full of dramas, scandals, star-crossed lovers, and beautiful and unforgettable adventures
- People regularly deliver passionate, insightful, philosophical monologues
- Romance is a life-defining, beautiful, immeasurably exciting thing
- Going outside the law to solve crimes and catch criminals leads to you doing the police’s job better than them
- Violence is adrenaline-packed, exciting, and visually appealing. Martial arts are badass, incredibly useful, and can beat a gun or a knife
- Arguments and insults are hilarious and memorable, and a sign of an exciting relationship
In reality:
- Guns fired indoors are deafeningly loud and a major safety hazard
- Most people’s life purpose is mundane, unglamorous work. And even the glamorous and unconventional life paths and careers are mostly made of dull, unmemorable, repetitive moments
- If a show like Arrow or Daredevil ran on real life’s rules, Oliver or Matt would be dead by the end of Episode 1
- High school for nearly everyone is just about class, extracurriculars, chilling with friends, and having fun in your spare time
- No one cares for your philosophical musings unless you’re a celebrity
- Having a girl or a guy in your life you’re fucking, dating, or married to isn’t a more exciting or enjoyable experience than being single or celibate. Thinking otherwise is just delusional honeymoon-phase fantasy detached from reality. Some people are content and joyful without a partner. Some people are miserable and frustrated with their partner
- Most evidence collected outside the legal system would get thrown out of court. The police have their authority for a reason
- Violence is sloppy, ugly, and only creates counter-force against the practitioner. De-escalation and a soft, calm frame of mind destroy (potentially) violent situations better than physical force ever could. Martial arts are fun to practice as a sport or a discipline, but are terribly ineffective on the street
- Unkind words and conflicts only ever damage and destroy relationships. They never improve them
The story still needs to be believable and logically cohesive. Events and happenings still need to be explainable, have realistic causes and consequences, and follow the laws of reality instead of bending and ignoring them.
This isn’t about writing something completely believable or unbelievable, but rather knowing what about a work of fiction should match our reality’s rules, and what about it should run on the rules of fictional realities.
That’s it for what I want to say here. Hope this article entertained you or gave you something to think about.
Have a fucking day,
– Ben
(and remember to give Starlight a read!)
