Writing the Breakout Novel Workbook

1. Turn Your Protagonist into a Hero Immediately

Demonstrate special qualities right away, and you will immediately turn your protagonist into a hero or heroine, a character whose outcome matters.

Make readers care. Readers stick with characters they like, admire, and cheer for. While protagonists can be flawed or troubled, they must possess qualities that evoke sympathy and identification from the outset. Don't be afraid to show strength or admirable traits early on.

Show, don't just tell. Instead of stating a character is strong or focused, show it through action. Tess Gerritsen's Dr. Catherine Cordell is shown "moving like a guided missile" in the ER, immediately establishing her competence and drawing the reader in. Ann Packer's Carrie Bell, though sullen, is aware of her friends' reproach, showing honesty and grace.

Subtle hints work. Heroic qualities don't need to be grand gestures initially. Alan Furst's Captain Alexander de Milja shows quiet strength by deliberately saving timber surveys during a chaotic document burning, hinting at his foresight and purposeful nature. Find small ways for your protagonist to demonstrate admirable qualities in their very first scene.

2. Build Multidimensional Characters with Deep Inner Conflict

Wanting two things that are mutually exclusive means having inner conflict, being torn in two directions, and that is what makes a character truly memorable.

Complexity holds interest. One-dimensional characters are predictable and less engaging. Multidimensional characters, like real people, keep us guessing and make identification easier because there's more to see and relate to. Actively show different sides of your protagonist on the page.

Opposing desires create conflict. True inner conflict arises when a character wants two things that are mutually exclusive. This internal struggle, being torn between conflicting goals or needs, is a powerful engine for character development and reader engagement.

Examples of inner conflict:

• Eoin Colfer's Artemis Fowl: Criminal mastermind vs. underlying human feelings (longing for father, concern for mother, unexpected sympathy for captive).
• Ann B. Ross's Miss Julia: Orderly, proud widow vs. maternal feelings for illegitimate stepson; protecting reputation vs. protecting the child.
• Laurell K. Hamilton's Anita Blake: Enforcing law vs. sympathy/lust for creatures she hunts; torn between two lovers (vampire vs. werewolf); Christian beliefs vs. actions.

3. Endow Characters with Larger-Than-Life Qualities and Rising Stakes

Strong commitment on the part of your protagonist will generate strong commitment on the part of your reader.

Exceed expectations. Larger-than-life characters say, do, and think things that we might wish we could, but never dare. This pushes them beyond ordinary boundaries, making them surprising, vital, and memorable. This doesn't mean creating clichés, but rather pushing characters out of their comfort zones.

Actions speak louder. Larger-than-life qualities can be shown through unexpected actions or dialogue. Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum running over an ex with her car is a literal example. Laurell K. Hamilton's Anita Blake feeding her blood to a vampire, breaking her deepest vow, is a powerful act of self-sacrifice.

Personal stakes must rise. It's not enough for a character to have a goal; we need to understand why it matters profoundly to them. The more personal the stakes, the more the reader will care. These stakes should escalate throughout the story, making the outcome increasingly vital.

Raising stakes examples:

• Harlan Coben's Will Klein: Faith in brother's innocence tested; girlfriend disappears, linked to crime; learns girlfriend had a daughter; learns girlfriend was murdered, but the body isn't hers.
• Michael Connelly's Harry Bosch: Initial detachment from cold case vs. emotional connection to victim's suffering; pressure to close case vs. need for truth; loss of lover intensifies resolve.
• Anita Diamant's Dinah: Desire to be remembered vs. desire for the women in her life to be remembered; bonds with women deepen to mystical level.

4. Develop Antagonists Who Are Formidable and Human

When developed well, an antagonist is an equal match, or more, for the protagonist.

Villains need depth. One-dimensional villains are rarely frightening or memorable. Like protagonists, antagonists need extra dimensions, inner conflict, and believable motivations. They should feel like real people with valid (to them) reasons for their actions.

Motivations beyond evil. The most compelling antagonists are not simply evil; they are often driven by pain, perceived injustice, or twisted logic. Ridley Pearson's Umberto Alvarez, a train saboteur, is motivated by grief and a belief the railroad was responsible for his family's death, making him understandable, if not forgivable.

Antagonists can be varied. Opposition doesn't always come in the form of a traditional villain. It can be a rival (Cecily von Ziegesar's Serena vs. Blair), a dead character whose actions haunt the present (Stephen L. Carter's Judge Garland), or even life itself and its relentless tragedies (Patricia Gaffney's The Saving Graces).

5. Enrich Your Cast by Developing Secondary Characters and Combining Roles

Furthermore, the remaining characters get more interesting.

More than just props. Secondary characters shouldn't just fulfill a single function and disappear. Giving them extra dimensions, inner conflict, or larger-than-life qualities makes the novel's world feel richer and more believable, even with limited page time.

Combining roles adds complexity. Paradoxically, reducing the number of characters by combining their functions can make the cast feel more complex and the narrative more cohesive. A single character can serve multiple purposes, linking disparate plot elements or providing unexpected reversals.

Examples of combined roles:

• Heather Graham's Loretta: Assistant to missing lawyer, exotic dancer, source of information, victim, love interest for secondary character, final obstacle in climax.
• Barbara Freethy's Mike Stanaway: Caroline's older lover, source of concern for sisters, later revealed as her AA sponsor and source of support.
• Ann B. Ross's Sam Murdoch: Miss Julia's lawyer, member of the church session plotting against her, sage advisor, troubleshooter, and eventual love interest.

6. Construct Layered Plots with Escalating Public Stakes

Layers give novels the rich texture of real life.

Beyond a single problem. Breakout novels often feature multiple narrative lines for the protagonist (layers) or other characters (subplots). This complexity mirrors the multi-faceted nature of real life, where problems rarely occur in isolation.

Public stakes broaden impact. While personal stakes are crucial, raising the outward or public stakes makes the story's outcome matter beyond the individual characters. This is obvious in thrillers (public safety), but can also be achieved in other genres by making personal problems attain a universal scale through relentless escalation.

Escalating stakes examples:

• Joan Johnston's The Cowboy: Personal romance/family feud vs. financial ruin of ranch, inheritance taxes, disease outbreak, family injuries/deaths. Callie's determination to save the ranch becomes a universal struggle against misfortune.
• Mary Alice Monroe's Skyward: Personal love story vs. child's life-threatening illness, return of recovering addict mother with legal rights, moral dilemma of helping rival, protagonist's failure to achieve desired outcome.

7. Weave Plot Layers and Subplots Together Tightly

A tightly woven novel is one that your readers will be able to wrap around themselves luxuriously as they curl up in their favorite chairs with a cup of tea.

Connect the threads. Simply having multiple layers or subplots isn't enough; they must be connected and interact. These connections, or "nodes of conjunction," prevent the novel from feeling disjointed and create a sense of narrative cohesion.

Nodes of conjunction examples:

• Harlan Coben's Gone for Good: Protagonist's missing brother and missing girlfriend are linked by the same FBI investigation; the antagonist (The Ghost) is tied to the brother's past; the girlfriend and the brother's murdered ex-girlfriend were college roommates.
• Robert Hellenga's The Sixteen Pleasures: Protagonist's mission to save books and her inner journey of sexual awakening are linked by the discovery and restoration of a rare, erotic book found in a convent library.
• Nora Roberts's Carolina Moon: Protagonist's abusive father is suspected of the murder of her childhood friend; the friend's brother becomes the protagonist's love interest; the friend's family blames the protagonist for the death.

8. Heighten Turning Points and Delineate Inner Change

Stories, like life, are about change.

Make change dramatic. Turning points are moments where things shift – new information, a reversal, a challenge. These should be as dramatic as possible. Heighten them through stronger language, symbolic objects, evocative settings, or dramatic gestures.

Inner shifts are milestones. Just as plot has turning points, characters have inner turning points where their self-perception or view of others changes. These moments of growth or realization calibrate the story's pace and lend a sense of progress.

Examples of inner change:

• Jodi Picoult's Addie Peabody: Letting go of grief for dead daughter symbolized by washing her bedsheets.
• Richard Russo's Janine: Her view of her fiancé shifts from admiration based on physical attraction to disdain based on his small-mindedness, measured by her perception of his hemorrhoid cushion.
• Phillip Pullman's Lyra Belacqua: Initial awe of Mrs. Coulter transforms into deep dread as she learns the truth about her guardian and their relationship.

9. Infuse Tension on Every Single Page

Tension, in some form or another, on every page is the secret of great storytelling.

Avoid slack moments. Even in quiet scenes, tension must be present. This doesn't require non-stop action, but rather underlying unease, unanswered questions, subtle friction, or foreboding. Low-tension scenes like those involving mundane activities or travel often cause readers to skim.

Make dialogue matter. Casual conversation rarely holds attention. Infuse dialogue with disagreement, unspoken conflict, or underlying tension. Harlan Coben's Will and Squares, though friends, engage in banter that reveals their dynamic and hints at deeper issues.

Backstory needs tension. Backstory can deepen understanding, but it should be deployed strategically, often later in the novel, to answer questions or deepen existing conflicts, rather than bogging down the opening. Nora Roberts withholds the details of Tory's past tragedy, letting the mystery create tension.

Find tension everywhere. Even in moments of inaction, tension can be mined. Eoin Colfer's description of Artemis and Butler waiting for fairies highlights Butler's internal struggle against the required silence, creating subtle unease.

10. Use Point of View, Setting, and Delineation to Create Vivid Characters and Worlds

Strong point of view is more than just the words a character uses.

Perspective shapes reality. Point of view is the lens through which readers experience the story. Making this perspective strong and distinct for each character brings the world and the characters themselves to life.

Setting reflects perception. A place is not just a backdrop; it is filtered through the point-of-view character's experiences, emotions, and biases. Sarah Waters's Millbank Prison feels oppressive through Margaret Prior's fearful eyes. Dorothea Benton Frank's Sullivan's Island feels like renewal to Susan, but evokes racial awareness in her younger self.

Delineation makes characters unique. Characters must sound, act, and think differently from one another. This is achieved through distinct vocabularies, gestures, internal thoughts, and reactions. Barbara Freethy differentiates three sisters by their coping mechanisms and perspectives. Jeffrey Eugenides distinguishes five sisters through objective, detailed observation of their appearance and behavior.

11. Discover and Amplify Your Novel's Underlying Themes

A novel that has nothing to say will have a tough time breaking out.

Themes add meaning. Themes are the recurring ideas, messages, or patterns that elevate a story beyond mere events. They provide depth and resonance, giving the novel something significant to say about the human condition or the world.

Develop themes through character and plot. Themes can be explored through a character's journey (Mary Alice Monroe's Brady Simmons finding humility and healing through working with birds of prey), through parallel problems faced by different characters, or by introducing larger societal issues (Ann B. Ross's Miss Julia and the church's stance on women's ordination).

Antagonist's perspective matters. Even the antagonist's viewpoint can amplify theme. Richard Russo's Sheriff Jimmy Minty articulates a theme about belonging and feeling like an outsider, offering a different perspective on the town than the protagonist's.

12. Aim High and Commit to the Hard Work of Breakout Fiction

Aim high.

Breakout is hard work. Writing a breakout novel requires patience, determination, and a willingness to push your craft to the highest level. It often takes years and involves going back to revise and deepen the story based on the principles of breakout fiction.

Resist quitting early. Don't be satisfied with just making a few improvements. Work through the exercises, even the difficult ones like adding tension to every page. The goal is mastery, not just getting published.

The reward is lasting power. By focusing on creating memorable characters, layered plots, and infusing tension and theme, you build the skills to write novels that captivate readers and stand out, potentially leading to a lasting career and a secure fan base.

Last updated: May 19, 2025