Your Book Needs One Big Problem (& How to Find It)
Post #6: I Have an Idea for a Novel. Now What???
So far, in this series, we’ve broken the ice and gotten words on the page. You’ve written a scene (or maybe several) using the FEELS Method for strong scenic writing. We’ve explored why talent is bs, and we’ve discussed the fact that getting through this draft is going to be more about plotting than pantsing.
But before we move into plotting, let’s answer the most important question of all:
What is this book about??? I mean, not just what happens. What is it really about?
Every book needs a macro-goal. A central problem that drives the book from beginning to end.
This is where writers often go wrong:
They simply start thinking of a string of interesting events that don’t necessarily build toward a single macro-goal. Or they mistake that string of events for the actual macro-goal. Or they believe that the best way to figure out the macro-goal is through plot events.
As far as I’m concerned, the best way to find the macro-goal of the book is by looking to character psychology.
Specifically, you want to dig into the character’s backstory. Often, in writing classes, backstory is treated as an exercise. A way to get familiar with the character. Warm-up writing. But it’s so much more than that.
Some writers focused on craft (K.M. Weiland and John Truby, for example) rightly illustrate how character arcs can develop alongside plot. And they show how those character arcs can deepen and enrich a book emotionally.
I’m arguing here that your main character’s backstory actually be the vehicle for finding the overarching book problem or macro-goal. Once you know the macro-goal, you can better begin to plot your novel act by act and chapter by chapter.
First, though, what, exactly, is backstory made of?
To begin with, the backstory starts with a wound (sometimes referred to as a ghost). It’s something in the character’s past that hurt them. Something that they’re haunted by. In response, your main character has built up a self-protective lie. In their mind, it will prevent them from being hurt again. A classic example is the character who gets his heart broken and in response becomes a loner. The whole If I go it on my own, I’ll never go through that pain again kind of reasoning.
But this lie is keeping the main character from really living a happy life. In our previous example, that loner is missing out on true human connection, whether that’s friendship or romantic love.
Still, though, no one ever changes their mind or starts living their life in a different way because they’ve spent the weekend binge-watching Netflix. A person has to get out in the world and interact with it. A person has to have an adventure before they change their mind or their ways.
That’s your macro-goal. It’s the adventure that makes your main character change their mind. Abandon their lie. Change their ways.
If you have no idea what the plot will be, you’re in a great place.
Start with your character. Brainstorm possible wounds. Not just one or two. I mean get a list of twenty possibilities. The most interesting solutions are never the first things you think of. It’s always the stuff way down the list. Didn’t like that list of twenty? Keep going. Do another ten.
Then brainstorm possible lies that would come from that wound. Dig deeper than If I go it alone I will never be hurt again. Again with the lists. Twenty, thirty possibilities.
Now, brainstorm possible adventures. Situations that would make this character be forced to address this lie. This is not a scene in which they address it. It’s a book-length problem. The case the detective is being tasked to solve, involving a missing father, is making him address his own history with an absentee father. The classic hero’s journey your main character is undergoing in the fantasy novel you’re writing will force that character to address the fact that they’ve never believed themselves to have any worthwhile abilities at all.
Do you already have a sense of what the macro-goal would be?
Fantastic! Now kind of reverse engineer it. What’s an appropriate wound or lie? What could this adventure teach your main character?
Regardless of where you start (with a character or some idea of plot), this process should be a back-and-forth.
Say you start with your character and brainstorming possible wounds and lies. Once you have your possible macro-goal, try going the opposite direction: trying to come up with possible wounds and lies for that possibility. You’d be surprised how knowing the end goal can actually sharpen your focus and give you more ideas for wounds and lies. Try it moving back and forth between the two a few times.
Spend the week working on your book’s macro-goal. Next week, we’ll examine how your character arc and macro-goal can help you develop your book’s theme.