How to write a compelling novel

Lifelong story lover and word nerd here, so obviously English was one of my favorite classes throughout school. Not only did I read every book I was assigned (except for Faulkner. I’m not sorry), but I eagerly discussed themes, diagrammed sentences, and read grammar books.

I took it a step further. I signed up for creative writing classes in high school and college. I even changed my minor from French to writing. And despite my devoted study of English and writing, I left school without knowing how to write a novel.

While we study stories extensively in school, we aren’t taught how to write novels, and we don’t learn what makes for a good story. In fact, most of us are probably misled about what a story even is.

Were you ever given a prompt in class and asked to write about what would happen next? It’s a great activity for stimulating creativity, but it also encourages us to think that stories are just a series of exciting, escalating events.

In fact, the power of stories goes much deeper. The reason why we read—the reason why certain novels captivate us and others don’t—is wired into our biology, and it has very little to do with what happens in the story.

It also doesn’t have much to do with how it’s written.

To write a better novel, it helps to understand why we read; stories actually serve a purpose beyond entertainment.

Why humans are drawn to stories

Believed to be the first evidence of stories, some of the oldest cave paintings are more than 20,000-30,000 years old (they’re in France! I saw them before I quit French!). This is significant because early humans didn’t have time for non-essential activities. Survival was paramount, so they prioritized finding food, avoiding death, and propagating the species.

So why would primitive humans spend any time on storytelling?

To the untrained eye, I would guess that this particular painting is either depicting a hunt for food or an escape from danger. The creator(s) wasn’t sharing this story just for fun; they were imparting lessons on others in hopes of improving their chances of survival.

Stories help us remember vital information. They help foster empathy for others, which leads to collaboration. And they allow us to live vicariously through others, learning from their experience—even if just subconsciously.

 Wired for Story by Lisa Cron goes deep into the research behind this topic. Cron explains:

“Stories allow us to simulate intense experiences without actually having to live through them. This was a matter of life and death back in the Stone Age, when if you waited for experience to teach you that the rustling in the bushes was actually a lion looking for lunch, you’d end up the main course. It’s even more crucial now, because once we mastered the physical world, our brain evolved to tackle something far tricker: the social realm. Story evolved as a way to explore our own mind and the minds of others, as a sort of dress rehearsal for the future.”

So, while we’re not reading to learn how to escape wild animals (or at least, we usually aren’t…) we now dive into novels about characters overcoming challenges to equip ourselves to navigate the world. Sure, we like to be entertained, but we consume stories to survive the social realm.

As we read, we identify with the protagonist and subconsciously slip into their experience. Through that process, our brain is registering how the character confronts and successfully circumvents problems. Of course, when they screw up, our brain also takes note of that and files it under “what not to do.”

So ultimately, readers, whether they know it or not, are constantly looking for meaning in a book.

For the novelist, this means that your story must give them that meaning through your protagonist’s experience. A compelling novel shows them how to navigate some fundamental challenge of being human, whether that’s finding love, finding confidence, or finding belonging. You must tap into a deeper layer of your character’s journey to engage your readers’ brain.

Focus on your protagonist’s internal change

If you want your novel to hook your readers, given what we know about how humans respond to stories, the most important thing you can do is make your audience identify with and care about your main character.

For that reason, a lot of writers talk about making your character likable, and that’s where a lot of us get confused. A likable character is not perfect. A likable character is flawed and vulnerable, which makes them relatable.

“Staying vulnerable is a risk we have to take if we want to experience connection.”—Brené Brown

Speaking from my own experience, my favorite books have a protagonist who is flawed in the same way I am. Especially when I was going through those awkward teenage years, I turned to books with protagonists who weren’t perfect, and popular, and pretty because they made me feel validated and seen. I still pick books this way sometimes.

The same goes for your readers. If they see themselves in your protagonist because they can relate to the character’s flaws and faults, you’ve got someone who’s more likely to stick to the story until the very end. Furthermore, they will keep turning the page if your protagonist’s flaw holds them back from getting what they want again and again until they realize that they need to change in some way.

“It’s a character’s struggle to shed old behaviors or beliefs that have held him back from becoming his ‘true self’—the person he was always meant to be.”—Libbie Hawker, Take Off Your Pants

So what this means for you as a writer is that before you plot your story, plan your protagonist’s character arc. Get clear on how they are flawed, how they will change, and what lessons they need to learn along the way to make that happen. Consider how the external problem they will face will also put this internal challenge to the test. Well-crafted stories create parallels between the internal and external obstacles.

Once you’re clear on your character’s trajectory through the story, you can begin to plan what will happen. Again, make sure that the events of the plot all relate to the protagonist’s flaw. Each scene needs to reinforce, challenge, or change that internal issue in some way. This keeps your reader engaged as they wonder what your character will do next.

And regardless of whether or not your character achieves their goal at the end of the book, if they’ve realized some fundamental truth about themselves and changed for the better, you’ll have given your readers a satisfying ending.

Because that’s really what we want to see in stories: some version of ourselves that’s braver, smarter, faster, stronger, better, etc. navigating challenges we hope to never face, but showing us the way to overcome them successfully if we do. Our biology demands it.