Emotional arcs

We all have different entry points into writing. For some, it begins with an image that keeps returning to their mind’s eye like a restless spirit. For others, it’s an overheard snippet of dialogue that provides the germ of a character.

For me, it usually begins with an emotion. More specifically, the transformation of an emotion or the mysterious ambiguity of it. Once my mind hooks onto it, I must puzzle it out on the page. From there, things like a premise, a character, and scenes—in short, a story—radiate out and start to take amoebic form.

Fiction writers are familiar with developing plot arcs that lay out a sequence of events (inciting incident, rising/falling action, etc.). But emotional arcs provide equally important scaffolding that reveal characters’ inner conflicts, which, in turn, shape their external world and conflicts in a propulsive feedback loop that drives the story forward.

One framework for honing a character’s emotional arc is to think about what author K.M. Weiland calls “the lie.” What is the lie your character believes about herself or the world? (e.g. I’m too flawed to be loved; Those who don’t succeed aren’t trying hard enough). The plot then unfolds in a way that challenges this belief, pushing them to the ideological brink where we get to see what transformation occurs. Does she double down? Walk it back? Implode? How far she ends up from where she began is the arc.

For a deeper dive, check out Kurt Vonnegut’s lecture on the shape of stories.

Now go write,
Jamie

Using the lie "asking for help shows weakness," write a scene where this tightly-held belief is challenged, and your protagonist ends up doubling down on it, reversing course, or completely imploding.

To submit your writing: reply to this email, comment on this post, or send to nowgowrite@substack.com by Saturday evening.

If you submitted last week, check out the rest 👀

See submissions

“The only thing worth writing about is the human heart in conflict with itself.” — William Faulkner