Storytelling

The defining characteristic of a thriller isn’t violence or danger-it’s urgency. Every thriller, from spy novels to legal thrillers to psychological suspense, has a clock ticking somewhere. Sometimes it’s literal (defuse the bomb in 24 hours), sometimes metaphorical (solve this before more people die), but it’s always present. Time pressure is the engine of thriller pacing. Remove it, and you have a mystery, an adventure, or a drama. Add it, and suddenly every scene vibrates with tension. ...

The Princess Bride begins with a grandfather reading a book to his sick grandson. Inside that book is the story of Westley and Buttercup. But that story contains another story-the legend of the Dread Pirate Roberts. Three stories, nested inside each other like Russian dolls. This technique-nested loop narrative-is one of the most elegant ways to add depth, resonance, and meaning to your stories. But it’s also one of the easiest to mess up. ...

A software engineer tries to explain their work at a dinner party: “So basically we’re implementing a microservices architecture using containerized deployments with an event-driven messaging pattern…” The eyes around the table glaze over. A doctor explains a diagnosis: “You have acute pharyngitis secondary to a streptococcal infection, so we’ll prescribe a beta-lactam antibiotic…” The patient nods, understanding nothing. An experienced teacher wonders why students don’t grasp concepts that seem obvious. ...

It’s 2 AM. You tell yourself “just one more episode” for the third time tonight. The show ended on a cliffhanger, and your brain refuses to let you sleep until you know what happens next. Or maybe you’re at work, supposedly focused on a spreadsheet, but part of your brain is still churning over that unfinished novel you put down this morning. Why do unfinished stories occupy so much mental real estate? The answer lies in a phenomenon discovered in a 1920s Berlin restaurant-and it might be the most powerful tool in a storyteller’s arsenal. ...

Bad dialogue is characters talking at each other, exchanging information the writer needs us to know. Good dialogue is characters doing things to each other with words. Dialogue isn’t just communication-it’s action. Every line should move something forward: plot, character dynamics, tension, understanding, or emotion. If you can cut a line of dialogue without losing anything, it shouldn’t be there. The “Dialogue as Action” Principle Traditional writing advice separates: Action = physical events (fights, chases, building things) Dialogue = characters talking (conveying information, feelings) This is wrong. ...

The Millennium Falcon is a piece of junk. The cockpit chairs are mismatched. Panels are held together with what looks like duct tape. Wiring is exposed. The hyperdrive fails constantly. Everything looks jury-rigged, patched, and held together through sheer stubbornness. And that’s exactly why we believe in it. The Falcon feels lived-in. It has a history we never see but constantly sense. It’s been flown hard, repaired poorly, modified desperately, and loved despite all its flaws. ...

Every screenwriting book tells you the same thing: stories have three acts. Act 1: Setup (establish character, world, conflict) Act 2: Confrontation (escalating obstacles, rising stakes) Act 3: Resolution (climax, falling action, denouement) There’s a problem though. Most of your favorite movies don’t actually follow this structure. Or rather, they follow it so loosely that calling it “three acts” is misleading at best and creatively limiting at worst. Let’s be clear: the three-act structure isn’t wrong. But it’s not a rule-it’s a retrospective description, not a prescription. And treating it as gospel might be why your story feels forced. ...

Every compelling character is haunted by a belief that isn’t true. Not a minor misconception. Not a small error in judgment. A fundamental lie about themselves or the world that shapes every decision they make-until the story forces them to confront it. This lie is the engine of character transformation. And understanding how to craft it separates functional characters from unforgettable ones. What Is the Character’s Lie? The Lie is a false belief your character holds about themselves, others, or how the world works. It’s: ...

Most storytelling advice tells you to start slow: establish the ordinary world, introduce your characters, build context before introducing conflict. The Fichtean Curve says: screw that. Start with a crisis. Then another crisis. And another. And another. Keep escalating until you reach a climax, deliver a brief resolution, and you’re done. No leisurely setup. No patient worldbuilding. No gentle easing the audience into the story. Just: Crisis. Crisis. Crisis. Boom. ...