Writing a good book is much like brewing a good pot of tea—it requires patience, attention to detail, and the right balance of ingredients. Just as the quality of the tea leaves and water can elevate the flavor, so too do the choice of words, characters, and plot elements shape a compelling narrative. Both processes need time to steep; rush the tea or the writing, and you lose the depth of flavor or meaning. With care and precision, both a book and a pot of tea can warm the heart, spark the imagination, and leave a lasting impression.
Stage 1: Conceptualizing an idea or dream
Here’s how I breakdown an idea or concept for a novella or novelette first draft in bullet points:
The Idea & Genre(s):
Begin with a core idea or concept—this is the seed from which the story grows.
Identify the genre(s) that best serve the idea (e.g., science fiction, mystery, fantasy, or a blend like sci-fi/fantasy or thriller/romance).
Consider how the setting, tone, and elements of the genre(s) will shape the atmosphere and theme of the story.
Story Structure Essential Compenents
Protagonist:
Introduce a well-rounded protagonist (hero, anti-hero, or even an ensemble).
Establish a clear motivation or goal for the protagonist.
Dilemma/Problem/Crime etc:
Present the central conflict that sets the story in motion—a moral dilemma, a mystery to solve, a life-altering event.
This should immediately hook the reader and be relatable or intriguing.
Decision/Method:
Show the protagonist making a critical decision or employing a method to confront the problem.
This is the core action that propels the plot toward the climax, revealing their character and stakes.
Climax:
Build to a peak where the conflict reaches its most intense point.
The protagonist’s decision culminates in a pivotal moment that shifts the direction of the story.
Outcome:
Resolve the immediate conflict, with clear consequences or changes in the protagonist’s situation.
This provides a sense of closure while still leaving room for reflection.
A Catching Punchline:
I try Craft a final line or moment that provokes thought and lingers in the reader’s mind.
It could be a revelation, a twist, or a thematic statement that resonates with the reader’s experience or worldview.
This serves to elevate the story beyond the narrative and stir deeper contemplation.
Finished, Yet Open-Ended:
Conclude the story with a sense of completion, yet leave subtle threads or possibilities for future exploration.
Allow space for interpretation or continuation, whether in a sequel or in the reader’s imagination. This open-endedness can spark curiosity or suggest that the protagonist’s journey isn’t entirely over.
In this framework, every piece of the story builds toward something larger, giving it both depth and potential for continuation.
Stage 2: Laying the framework
Lester Dent's master plot has been a game-changer for me, providing a clear, structured approach to turning raw ideas into fully developed stories. By following its formula, I’ve learned to frame my concepts, break them into manageable parts, and keep the momentum building with twists, conflict, and resolution. It’s helped me streamline my writing process, ensuring that my thoughts flow naturally onto the page, transforming ideas into engaging, well-constructed narratives.
Part 1: Introduction to the story (1/4th of the book)
Start with action: Introduce the hero in immediate trouble in the first line.
Expand in the first paragraph: Hint at the larger problem they must solve.
Immediate action: Hero engages with the problem right away, working toward a solution.
Introduce allies/foes: Bring in other characters to interact with the hero and problem.
First altercation: End with a conflict (physical, psychological or environmental) to escalate tension.
Achieve something:** Hero gains a minor success (finds a clue, frees someone, etc.).
Plot twist: End Part 1 with a twist—someone or something is not what it seems.
Part 2: Build the Tension (1/4th of the book)
Increase stakes: Double the tension—add a time limit, more crimes, or a mistake by the hero.
Struggle: Hero grapples with pressure and begins to struggle.
Minor surprises: Small, eerie events occur to add mystery (e.g., doors slamming, odd noises).
Second altercation: Another conflict, different from the first (new foe, different location etc).
Plot twist 2: End on another twist, revealing another hidden truth or deception.
Part 3: No Way Out (1/4th of the book)
Increase tension: Everything gets worse; villain escalates, time is running out.
Glimmer of hope: Hero makes some progress, seeming to get closer to solving the problem.
Third altercation: Hope leads to a third conflict, potentially with the main villain.
Major twist: End with a devastating twist that leaves the hero in an impossible situation.
Part 4: Escape and Resolution (1/4th of the book)
Last straw: Hero hits rock bottom, facing their worst moment.
Escape: Hero uses their skills and possibly shows character growth to escape and defeat the villain.
Tie up loose ends: Resolve all remaining mysteries.
Final twist: Reveal a final unexpected truth (e.g., villain’s identity or a surprise about the treasure).
Punchline: End with a clever, snappy line that leaves a lasting impact on the reader.
This structure keeps the tension rising, with twists and conflicts leading to a punchy resolution that leaves things both finished but opened ended enough for continuation.
I rely heavily on the use of chapter or section beats to shape the rhythm of my storytelling. Beats help me set the pace for each section, allowing me to plan the key moments and build toward the desired impact. I begin by laying out these beats, which can range from 3-4 for shorter scenes to 15-20 for more intricate sections, to map out what I want to happen. These beats serve as a foundation, guiding the unfolding details and keeping the narrative on track. They also act as a framework I can refer back to, ensuring continuity and preventing repetitive, non-story-driving moments from slowing down the momentum. This approach allows me to craft stories that are both tight and immersive, and it’s a process that consistently works for me.
When penning the first draft of a novelette, I combine Lester Dent’s master plot formula with carefully structured story beats to guide the flow. My goal is to get the ideas and key details onto paper, knowing that this draft will be rough around the edges. At this stage, I don’t worry about “trimming the fat” or fine-tuning the language—those aspects come during revisions. It’s all about capturing the heart of the story and letting the ideas breathe. And, of course, a pot of tea is always within reach, providing the perfect companion as I shape the foundation of the narrative.
In the first round of revisions, my focus is on shaping that “diamond in the rough.” This begins with meticulously trimming the fat—removing any bloat, unnecessary scenes, or sections that don’t drive the story forward. Once the excess is gone, I move on to fine-tuning the language and dialogue, carefully aligning it with the mood and genre to better convey the heart of the tale. During this process, I usually opt for a more complex pot of tea, often oolong or peppermint, to keep my wits sharp as I polish each layer of the narrative.
After the first draft and initial revisions are behind me, I take a moment to decompress with a cup of chamomile tea. This is when I switch gears, letting myself fully immerse into the tale as if I’m experiencing it for the first time. I try to approach the story like a beta tester, gauging where it hits its mark and where it might stumble. It’s a way to step back from the work and see it with fresh eyes, noticing the rhythm, the flow, and how well the heart of the story shines through.
Once I’ve moved beyond first drafts and revisions, the real fine-tuning begins. I retune, rewrite, and sometimes even scrap entire sections if needed. It’s a careful, methodical process—choosing exactly what I want to say, how I want to say it, and why it matters. In a novelette, with fewer pages and fewer words, every sentence has to pull its weight. There’s less room to meander, so each choice must convey the heart of the story with precision. It’s about making sure every word works in harmony to deliver the essence of the tale.
There’s something both thrilling and bittersweet about compiling the final draft of a novelette, knowing that soon it will leave your hands and step into the world. But before diving into that last round of tweaks, I like to take a step back—disconnect from the words for a moment. A stroll through the woods or along the water helps me gather my thoughts, letting everything settle like leaves on a forest floor. When I return to my desk, it's time for the final read-through, combing through every scene to ensure the rhythm and heart of the story are just right.
From there, the focus shifts to the little details—the ones most readers won’t even notice but matter all the same. I carefully choose the format size, the perfect line spacing, and the font that will whisper the right tone from the very first sentence. If artwork is needed, I’ll spend hours selecting or curating just the right piece to complement the story’s spirit. Every decision, down to the smallest touch, is about building a doorway for readers—a way to make sure they feel what I felt when crafting these words.
Then, with a deep breath, it’s time to give it the final seal of approval. And just like that, it’s off to the presses, ready to take on a life of its own. A strange and wonderful feeling, knowing that what began as a spark of inspiration is now a story someone might carry with them long after they finish.
Like brewing the perfect pot of tea, sometimes it takes a few rounds to get it just right, each draft another chance to refine the flavors until I feel the work is truly complete.
I’m far from a literary master, and I make no claim to be a writing guru. This is simply what works for me. From rough drafts and endless revisions to pots of tea and quiet reflection, my process is personal, evolving with each story I write. My hope is that sharing this gives you some insight into your own approach or, at the very least, an appreciation for how I craft the stories you’ve read—hopefully with as much enjoyment as I had creating them.