# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Erin McKean: Go ahead, make up new words!

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
In this fun, short talk from TEDYouth, lexicographer Erin McKean encourages - nay, cheerleads - her audience to create new words when the existing ones won't quite do. She lists out 6 ways to make new words in English, from compounding to "verbing," in order to make language better at expressing what we mean, and to create more ways for us to understand one another.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Why is descriptive writing so important in a novel? Because unlike movies, novels are not visual.

When you watch a film, all of the "description" is done for you by a camera and a microphone. All writers have are words. So you need to use those words to help the reader see and hear (and smell, taste and touch, too).

You can use them literally ("she wore a red dress"). Or you can write more figuratively. For example...

It's tough to describe the precise look on a character's face when they're in a really, really foul mood.

But if you say that their face looked like "the sky before a storm," readers will get the idea.

You may think that it's impossible for mere "words" to compete with a movie camera. And to an extent, you're right...

A picture really is worth a thousand words!

On the other hand, novels hold one huge advantage over the big-screen experience: the power of the human imagination.

If you see a beautiful setting on the screen, the visuals can be amazing (no doubt about that). But you're still forced to accept the director's version of a "beautiful setting."

With good descriptive writing, you can paint a picture of this setting using just a few well-chosen details... and leave it up to the reader to complete the picture.

That way, everyone can visualize their own version of this setting.

Description can be powerful, then. But it's easy to overdo it and end up with slushy writing. So as with a lot of things in novel writing, beware of heavy-handedness.

A little goes a long way!
Okay, time for the details. I've split the article into three parts...
Sitting comfortably? Let's go...

Descriptive Writing & Figures of Speech

The most important figures of speech are similes and metaphors. In fact, they lie at the very heart of great description.

Used well, they can transform a story. Used badly, or too much, they can kill your prose.

What Are Similes and Metaphors?

Both metaphors and similes compare one thing with another. A simile says that X is "like" or "as" Y...

Her skin was as smooth as cream.

Her hair felt like silk.

Her eyes were as blue as neon.

With a metaphor, X actually becomes Y. Metaphors are transformative ...

Her skin was made of cream and her hair of the finest silk.

The man was a beast.

His whole life had been a roller coaster ride.

Similes and metaphors allow you to describe things that would otherwise be impossible to bring to life using so few words.
Take "the man was a beast"...
Literally, of course, he is no such thing - he's a human being. What the metaphor implies, though, is that this man has the qualities of a beast - strength, aggression, lack of intelligence, and so on.

A metaphor allows you to say all of this, and more, in just four or five words.

Generally speaking, a simile is weaker than a metaphor. "Her hair felt like silk" just isn't as powerful as "Her hair was silk". But both figures of speech have their place in good descriptive writing.

When to Use Similes and Metaphors

If a simile is the poor cousin of a metaphor, why not ditch them altogether and use only metaphors? For the simple reason that a metaphor in the wrong place can stand out awkwardly, like a man wearing black tie to a cheap burger bar.
Take a look at this example...
When Mary pulled open the door, she had to screw up her eyes against the glare. The sun dazzled off the snowy roof tops like they were mirrors, and it was thirty seconds before she could see clearly. The snow on the driveway was untouched by human footsteps, and Mary felt like a pioneer as she trudged towards the front gate. Overnight, while she had slept, the world had turned into a fairy tale.

There are three figures of speech here. Two are similes ("like they were mirrors", "like a pioneer") and one's a metaphor ("the world had turned into a fairy tale").

Now, the similes could easily have been written as metaphors with a little reworking...

The snowy roof tops were mirrors angled to the dazzling light of the sun, and it was thirty seconds before she could see clearly.

The snow on the driveway was untouched by human footsteps, and Mary became a pioneer as she trudged towards the front gate.

But it would have been too much.

The climax of this paragraph is the final metaphor, in which the world isn't merely like a fairy tale, but actually is one.

For this final image to carry maximum weight, everything must build towards it without overshadowing it, and that's why it's best to keep the two earlier figures of speech - the two similes - as "low key" as possible.

Four Rules for Using Similes and Metaphors
1. Less is definitely more.
Similes and metaphors are like the finishes touches in a room - a cranberry scatter cushion here, a fancy vase there, two Georgian candlesticks on the mantelpiece.

Used well, they beautify a passage in a novel. Used too often, they make it look gaudy.

Solution? If in doubt, strike them out!
2. Avoid the commonplace.
What's wrong with these examples?...

He drank like a fish.

She had the heart of a lion.

The town was as dead as a dodo.

The first time they were ever used, way back when, they would have been fresh and clever. Now they're not!

Use original and interesting figures of speech and readers will sit up and take notice. Resort to similes and metaphors that come easily to mind and readers, dare I say it, will "avoid you like the plague."
3. Don't use two similes together.
Using too many similes in general is not recommended, but using one right after the other is a definite no-no. It simply doesn't work, as these examples show...

She had skin like cream, hair like silk, and eyes like green marbles.

He was as fearless as a lion and as fast as a cheetah.

Frank stood on the edge of the diving board like a prisoner on the gallows. The short drop to the pool looked as daunting as the Grand Canyon.

4. Don't mix metaphors.
This is virtually the same point as above, although the problem is a subtler one. Take a look at this...

Norman's mind was a machine. He could waltz through cryptic crosswords in mere minutes.

The trouble here is that the message is confused. First, Norman's intelligence is compared to a clever and efficient machine. Next, his speed at crosswords is compared to the speed and grace of a dance.

If you don't want the reader to say "Huh?" you must always "follow metaphors through" once you've introduced them. Like this...

Norman's mind was a machine. He could process cryptic crosswords in mere minutes.

Other Figures of Speech

Similes and metaphors are the "big two." But you have plenty of other figures of speech in your toolbox. Let's rattle through a few of them...
Personification
This is where you take an inanimate object and animate it - that is, give it human qualities. To give you the idea, here are a few examples I made up...

Fred loved his Alfa Romeo but the car didn't always love Fred. It chose the worst days possible to fall sick on him and refuse to move a muscle.

Mary waded out into the sea but was shoved back to the shore by a great bully of a wave.

On stormy nights, the jagged rocks chewed up many an unsuspecting fishing boat and spat them out in splinters.

Personification is an excellent way to take a flat description and transform it into something far more dynamic.
Hyperbole
This is deliberate exaggeration, often for comic effect. There's a great example of it in Martin Amis's Money that has stayed with me for years. He describes the difficulty of crossing the street in Los Angeles like so...

The only way to get across the road is to be born there.

That may make you smile or not. But there's no doubting that it's a very concise way of painting a picture in the readers' minds. And here's one I made up myself...

Remember, descriptive writing isn't about pages and pages of flowery language. It's about getting the reader to see what the author sees in as brief a space as possible.
Onomatopoeia
These are words which sound like the actions they describe. Batman is full of them...

However, if you don't want a scene in your novel to sound like a sequence from Batman, use onomatopoeias more subtly...

John was hopeless at golf. The ball rarely ended up where he had intended to hit it, but he loved the good thwack of the driver sending it on its misguided way.

Emily loved the sound of her son's pony clip-clopping down the lane.
Alliteration
This is the repetition of similar sounds in a sentence (like the "s" sounds in this sentence).

You're more likely to find it in poetry. But used sparingly and in the right places, it can enhance a piece of prose just as much.

To illustrate, here's one of the most famous sentences ever written - the final line of F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby. Notice the repeated "b" sounds...

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
Bottom line on figures of speech?
Good writing happens instinctively - you do it without particularly thinking about it. So don't think that you've got to consciously work examples like those above into your own novel.

Yes, it's useful to learn all the figures of speech ( I tracked down a more detailed article on them here). But then it's best to forget them. If and when the time is right, you'll naturally work them into your own writing without forcing it.

You Are Here: Home > Descriptive Writing

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
The Art of Descriptive Writing | Novel Writing Help

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Why is descriptive writing so important in a novel? Because unlike movies, novels are not visual. When you watch a film, all of the "description" is done for you by a camera and a microphone. All writers have are words. So you need to use those words to help the reader see and hear (and smell, taste and touch, too).

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Describing stuff can be the hardest part of writing prose fiction. You have a scene in your head, with all the dialogue and action, but now you have to fill in what everything looks like. There's nothing more boring to write, or read, than a long descriptive passage - but here's how to spice it up.

Descriptive passages are something I struggle with, both as a writer and as a reader. If I'm reading a book and hit a long paragraph of scene-setting, I have to struggle to keep from skimming a bit. And when I write my own fiction, I often find myself skimping on description, because I get bored doing it. How many ways can you describe a face? Or the layout of a particular building? How many ways are there to say "he had a square face and brown eyes." Probably the fact that I have a certain amount of face-blindness and no eye for décor doesn't help.

But descriptive passages are important - they make the difference between your story feeling real, and it feeling like sketchy. Stories that don't provide enough description, or vivid enough description, feel like one of those 1970s Hanna-Barbera cartoons where people run past endless doodley backgrounds with no differentiation. The more you can engage your reader's senses, the more they'll feel present in the scene.

So how can you create description that engages the reader instead of activating the dreaded "skim" reflex? There is no magic bullet, but here are some things that could help.

Commit to never being boring. To avoid boring descriptions, you first have to make a decision that you won't settle for blocks of dull text. And stop thinking of the descriptive passages as wallpaper. You put a lot of effort into making your dialogue zingy and quotable - do the same for your descriptive passages. This sounds obvious, but it's an important first step.

Engage all five senses. Again, starting with the obvious. Description isn't just visual and auditory, but also includes touch and smell. And maybe taste, if it's a kitchen or restaurant. Smells help a lot, especially vivid ones. Like a really pungent ammonia smell, or a dreadful musty smell. Mentioning the temperature of a room also helps sell that it's a real place. Ditto when you're describing a person - what do they smell like? What do their clothes feel like if you touch them?

Try being super terse. Description can be vivid without being lengthy - in fact, you could argue that less is more when it comes to vividness of description. You can convey a lot with a few well-chosen words. Like: "The Apple Genius Bar had a gleaming white counter lined with eager T-shirt-clad acolytes, but the odor of stale coffee and fried motherboards assaulted her nostrils as soon as she approached."

Make it dynamic rather than static. This is a huge one. Things change, and no person or place has been the same forever. Often, the best description tells a story. Like: "Judging from his bulk, he'd been a bodybuilder once, but then he'd run to seed." Or: "Someone had obviously bought a simple two-storey mock Tudor house and tried to add extra turrets to it, after which a second owner had tried to add some Japanese-style rice-paper screens to the front room." Description that takes you through the evolution of a person or thing is more memorable than a static snapshot.

Make fun of the thing you're describing. Depending on the tone of your story, of course, you can go for humor. Like in one story I published in Lightspeed a while back, I describe a character thusly:

Peter had never liked looking at pictures of himself, because photos always made him look like a deformed clone of Ben Affleck. His chin was just a little too jutting and bifurcated, his brow a little too much like the bumper of a late-model Toyota Camry. His mousy hair was unevenly receding, his nose a little too knifey.

I remember being really happy about that, because for once I managed to describe a character in a way that sticks in my mind. Between "deformed Ben Affleck clone" and "late-model Camry," I have a strong impression of what this guy looks like, even if it's kind of cartoony. Obviously, use in moderation, unless you're going for a full-on gonzo tone. A self-loathing POV character can describe him- or herself with alot of vitriol, though.

Project feelings onto an inanimate object. When you're describing a person, you can give him or her some emotion, like a perpetual scowl or habitual laughter. But when you describe a thing or place, you just have to describe it, because things don't have feelings. Except that we project feelings onto them all the time. A chair might be friendly, or a particular pair of shoes might have it in for you. A building might look as though it's trying to drive you away, with its unwelcoming awnings and grim windows. Instead of a detached, factual description of the columns and arches, tell us how they're gritting their teeth at the main character. This is also good for setting a mood, and maybe a bit of foreshadowing.

Give your POV some visceral or emotional reaction. In the same vein, try showing how a particular setting or someone's appearance affects your POV character. Maybe your main character really hates a particular building, and feels her spine stiffen and her shoulders go up as she approaches it. Maybe the smell of someone's basement makes her nauseous. Maybe seeing Mr. Bullyfrog's filthy teeth and smelling his foul breath makes her recoil. Vivid description often depends on depicting a strong personal reaction to something.

Use less dialogue. If you're like me, then you're using the descriptive passages as a backdrop for your snappy dialogue - but what if your descriptions are so good, dialogue becomes unnecessary? It's worth trying, anyway - try taking a speech-heavy scene, and replacing half the dialogue with actions and descriptions of stuff that convey the same information and emotion. Maybe someone picking up a pair of binoculars that used to belong to the main character's grandfather, and holding their black leathery outer casing up to the light, can convey a whole world of stuff about grandpa. After all, the most interesting stuff in a scene is often what people don't say, and that's stuff they convey with body language, and the objects they stare at.

Use description to set up a punchline in dialogue. Again, this is assuming you're more into writing dialogue, which seems to be the case with lots of us who were raised on TV and comics. If you want to have your character say something snappy like Oscar Wilde's famous last words, "Either that wallpaper goes, or I do," you'll need to make the wallpaper vivid in our minds way in advance so the line works. Sometimes you can force yourself to create vivid descriptions of surroundings by including verbal jokes that only work if the scenery is fixed in the reader's mind.

Those are some of the tricks that help to make a scene more vivid - what techniques have you found useful for writing descriptions, in your own work?

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
How to Write Descriptive Passages Without Boring the Reader or Yourself

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Describing stuff can be the hardest part of writing prose fiction. You have a scene in your head, with all the dialogue and action, but now you have to fill in what everything looks like. There's nothing more boring to write, or read, than a long descriptive passage - but here's how to spice it up.

# data[].attributes.headline
How to write descriptions and evoke a sense of place

# data[].attributes.subject
How to write descriptions and evoke a sense of place

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Your first job as a storyteller is a simple one, and a crucial one. You have to get your passengers into your train - your readers into your story. Only then can you hope to transport them.

And that crucial first step doesn't have much to do with characters or story or anything else. All that matters, but its importance shows itself more slowly.

What matters first is this: your fictional world has to seem real. It has to grip the reader as intensely as real life - more intensely, even.

And that means that the buildings, cities, places, rooms, trees, weather of your fictional world have to be convincing there. They have to have an emphatic, solid, believable presence.

A big ask, right? But it gets harder than that.

Because at the same time, people don't want huge wodges of descriptive writing. They want to engage with characters and story, because that's the reason they picked up your book in the first place.

So your challenge becomes convincing readers that your world is real . . . but using only the lightest of touches to achieve that goal.

Not so easy, huh?

It may sound obvious but plenty of writers launch out into a scene without giving us any descriptive material to place and anchor the action. Sure, a page or so into the scene, they may start to add details to it - but by that point it's too late. They've already lost the reader. If the scene feels placeless at the start - like actors speaking in somee blank, white room - you won't be able to wrestle that sense of place back later.

So start early.

That means telling the reader where they are in a paragraph (or so), close to the start of any new scene. That early paragraph needs to have enough detail that if you are creating a coffee shop, for example, it doesn't just feel like A Generic Coffee Shop. It should feel like its own thing. One you could actually walk into. Something with its own mood and colour.

And once, early in your scene, you've created your location, don't forget about it. Just nudge a little as you proceed. So you could have your characters talking - then they're interrupted by a waitress. Then they talk (or argue, or fight, or kiss) some more, and then you drop in some other detail which reminds the reader, "Yep, here we still are, in this coffee shop."

That's a simple technique, bit it works every time.

One paragraph early on, then nudge, nudge, nudge.

As the roughest of rough guides, those nudges need to happen at least once a page - so about every 300 words. If it's natural to do so more often, that's totally fine.

Gabriel García Márquez, opening One Hundred Years of Solitude, introduces his village like this:
Macondo was a village of twenty adobe houses, built on the bank of a river of clear water that ran along a bed of polished stones, which were white and enormous, like prehistoric eggs.
Boom! We're there.

In his world. In his village. Already excited to see what lies ahead.

And yes, he's started early (Chapter 1, Page 1, Line 1). But it's more than that, isn't it? He could have written something like this:
Macondo was a village of about twenty houses, built on a riverbank.
I hope it's obvious that that sentence hardly transports us anywhere. It's too bland. Too unfocused. Too generic. There are literally thousands of villages in the world which would fit that description.

In short, it's the detail that gives this description its vibrancy. They're not just houses, they're adobe houses. The river doesn't just flow over stones, its flows over polished stones that are white and enormous, like (wow!) prehistoric eggs.

The sentence works so well because Marquez has:

1. Created something totally non-generic

2. Via the use of highly specific detail, and

3. Uses surprising / exotic language to make those details blaze in our imagination.

That basic template is one you can use again and again. It never stales. It lies at the heart of all good descriptive writing.

So here, for example, is a more 'boring' space . . . but still one redolent with vividness and atmosphere thanks to the powerful use of atmospheric specificity. In Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale, Offred introduces her room with details that not only grab us but hint at something dark:
A chair, a table, a lamp. Above, on the white ceiling, a relief ornament in the shape of a wreath and in the centre of it a blank space, plastered over, like the place in a face where the eye has been taken out. There must have been a chandelier once. They've removed anything you could tie a rope to.
Those clipped words transport us straight to Offred's enclosed, and terrifying, space. We're also told just enough to give us an image of that place, enough to heighten tension, enough to tease curiosity. This is just a description of a room - but we already feel powerfully impelled to read on.

It might be tempting to share every detail with us on surroundings.

Don't.

Even with a setting like Hogwarts - a place readers really do want to know all the hidden details of - J.K. Rowling doesn't share how many revolving staircases it has, how many treasures in the Room of Requirement, how many trees in the Forbidden Forest. That's not the point. (And it would write off a little of Hogwarts' magic and mystery.)

If you're describing a bar, don't write:
The bar was approximately twenty-eight feet long, by perhaps half of that wide. A long mahogany bar took up about one quarter of the floor space, while eight tables each with 4 wooden chairs occupied the remaining area. There were a number of tall bar stools arranged to accommodate any drinker who didn't want to be seated at one of the tables. The ceiling height was pleasantly commodious.
That's accurate, yes. It's informative, yes. But it's bland as heck.

The reader doesn't want information. They want atmosphere. They want mood.

Here's an alternative way to describe a bar - the Korova Milk Bar in A Clockwork Orange. This description delivers a sense of intimacy and darkness in a few words:
The mesto [place] was near empty ... it looked strange, too, having been painted with all red mooing cows ... I took the large moloko plus to one of the little cubies that were all round ... there being like curtains to shut them off from the main mesto, and there I sat down in the plushy chair and sipped and sipped
We're told what we need to know, thrown into that murky Korova atmosphere and Burgess moves the action on. All we really have in terms of detail are those mooing red cows, some cubies (curtain booths?), and a plushy chair. There's lots more author Anthony Burgess could tell us about that place. But he doesn't. He gives us the right details, not all the details.

Visuals are important, but don't neglect the other senses. Offering a full range of sensory information will enhance your descriptive writing.

Herman Melville, say, describes to us the chowder for the ship's crew in Moby Dick: 'small juicy clams, scarcely bigger than hazel nuts, mixed with pounded ship biscuits and salted pork cut up into little flakes.' Such descriptions are deft, specific, and brilliantly atmospheric. Where else but on board a nineteenth century American whaler would you get such a meal? By picking out those details, Melville makes his setting feel vibrantly alive.

Here's another example.

Joanne Harris' opening of Chocolat plays to readers' senses, as we're immersed straightaway in the world of her book through scent, sound and sight:

We came on the wind of the carnival. A warm wind for February, laden with the hot greasy scents of frying pancakes and sausage and powdery-sweet waffles cooked on the hotplate right there by the roadside, with the confetti sleeting down collars and cuffs and rolling in the gutters.

These non-visual references matter so much because sight alone can feel a little distant, a little empty.

By forcing the reader's taste buds to image Melville's clams or Harris's pancakes - or making the reader feel that warm February wind, the confetti 'sleeting' down collars - it's almost as though the writers are hauling the readers' entire body into their scenes.

That's good stuff: do likewise.

(And one easy test: take one of your scenes and highlight anything that references a non-visual sense. If you find some good references, then great: you're doing fine. If not, your highlighter pen remains unused, you probably want to edit that scene!)

Use the atmospheric properties of a place to add to other properties of the scene. That doesn't mean you should always play things the obvious way: no need for cliché;.

You can have declarations of love happen in idyllic meadows, as in Twilight by Stephenie Meyer, but why not at a bus stop in the rain? Shouted over the barriers at a train station?

Your character also brings one kind of mood to the scene, and the action that unfolds will bring other sensations.

Lynda La Plante's crime novel Above Suspicion makes a home setting frightening after it becomes obvious a stranger has been in protagonist DS Anna Travis' flat, and she's just been assigned to help solve her first murder case.

So the place is influenced by action, once Anna notices:

Reaching for the bedside lamp, she stopped and withdrew her hand. The photograph of her father had been turned out to face the room. She touched it every night before she went to sleep. It was always facing towards her, towards the bed, not away from it. ... In the darkness, what had felt safe before now felt frightening: the way the dressing-table mirror reflected the street-light through the curtains and the sight of the wardrobe door left slightly ajar.

Here a comfy, nondescript flat becomes a frightening place, just because of what else is going on. Go for unfamiliar angles that add drama and excitement to your work.

Descriptions as active characters

You know the way that a place can turn on you? So (for example) a place that seems safe can suddenly reveal some other side, seem menacing, then almost try to harm the character.

That's an incredibly powerful way to build descriptive writing into your text - because it feels mobile, alive and with a flicker of risk. You can use plotting techniques to help structure the way a reader interacts with a place: starting with a sense of the status quo, then some inciting incident that shifts that early stability, and so on. The inciting incident can be tiny - discovering that a photo frame has been moved, for example.

Having your characters voice their perceptions of a place in dialogue also adds to its dramatic impact, because now the reader sees place both through the eyes of a narrator and through the eyes of the characters themselves. Good, huh?

Do you need more help?
Did you know we have an entire video course on How To Write? That course has had awesome client reviews, but it's kinda expensive to buy . . . so don't buy it!

We've made that course available, in full, to members of Jericho Writers. Our members don't just get that course, they also get:

an incredible course on Getting Published

A brilliant course on Self-Publishing

A ton of filmed masterclasses

Access to AgentMatch, the world's best literary agent search tool

A brilliant and supportive writers community

Chances to pitch your work in front of literary agents, live online every month

And more

We've made the offer as rich as we know how to - and made it incredibly affordable too. You can find out more about our club here. Remember: we were founded by writers for writers - and we created this club for you. Do find out more . . . and we'd absolutely love it if you chose to join us.

Write for all the senses

You have a nose? So use it.

Using unfamiliar settings adds real mood and atmosphere.

Stephenie Meyer, when writing Twilight, decided she needed a rainy place near a forest to fit key plot elements.

Like protagonist Bella, she was raised in Arizona, but explained the process of setting Twilight in an unfamiliar setting on her blog:
For my setting, I knew I needed someplace ridiculously rainy. I turned to Google, as I do for all my research needs, and looked for the place with the most rainfall in the U.S. This turned out to be the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State. I pulled up maps of the area and studied them, looking for something small, out of the way, surrounded by forest. ... In researching Forks, I discovered the La Push Reservation, home to the Quileute Tribe. The Quileute story is fascinating, and a few fictional members of the tribe quickly became intrinsic to my story.
As her success has shown, it's possible to write successfully about a place you don't know, but you must make it your business to know as much as you can about it. (Or if you're writing a fantasy or sci-fi novel, plan your world down to its most intricate details.)

And to be clear: you're doing the research, not because you want that research to limit you. (Oh, I can't write that, because Wikipedia tells me that the river isn't as long / the forest isn't as thick / or whatever else.)

On the contrary:

You are doing the research, because that research may inspire and stimulate a set of ideas you might not have ecountered otherwise.

The key thing is to do your research to nail specifics, especially if they are unfamiliar, foreign, exotic.

Just read how Tokyo is described in Ryu Murakami's thriller In the Miso Soup:

It was still early in the evening when we emerged onto a street in Tsukiji, near the fish market. ... Wooden bait-and-tackle shops with disintegrating roofs and broken signs stood next to shiny new convenience stores, and futuristic highrise apartment complexes rose skyward on either side of narrow, retro streets lined with wholesalers of dried fish.

There's authenticity, grit to this description of Tokyo, as opposed to using 'stock' descriptions that could apply to many modern cities.

Note this same thing with foods: in Japan, your protagonist could well be eating miso soup, as per Ryu Murakami.

Or say if your story was set in Hong Kong, you might write in a dai pai dong (a sort of Chinese street kitchen), something very specific to that city if you're describing a street there.

Alternatively, if you are setting something in the past, get your sense of place right by doing your research right, too.

In historical novel Girl with a Pearl Earring by Tracy Chevalier, set in Holland in 1664, maid Griet narrates how artist Johannes Vermeer prepares her for her secret portrait, musing, to her horror, that 'virtuous women did not open their mouths in paintings'.

That last is just a tiny detail, but Griet's tears show us how mortified she is. Modern readers won't (necessarily) think about seventeenth-century connotations like this, so if you're writing a scene set in a very different era or culture to what you know, research so you're creating a true sense of place.

Descriptions of place are never neutral.

Good writers will, in overt or gently subtle ways, introduce a place-as-character. If that character is dangerous, for example, then simply describing a place adds a layer of foreboding, foreshadowing, to the entire book.

Just read how J.R.R. Tolkien describes the Morannon in The Two Towers: 'high mounds of crushed and powdered rock, great cones of earth fire-blasted and poison-stained ... like an obscene graveyard.' It's obvious from this description trouble lies ahead for Frodo Baggins and Sam Gamgee.

But even if you're not writing this sort of fantasy, character psychology and plot (as we saw above) can also render seemingly harmless places suspect, too. A boring apartment in Above Suspicion becomes scary when it seems someone's been inside.

In the same sense, we thrill to the sense of a place with excitement and promise, too, like when Harry makes his first trip to Diagon Alley (in Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone) to shop for Hogwarts equipment with Hagrid.

There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon. ... They bought Harry's school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk.

Just weave place and action together like this to create atmosphere, excitement, tension, foreboding.

One final thought. When you've written a piece, go back and check nouns.

A bad description will typically use boring nouns (or things) in settings, i.e. a table, chair, window, floor, bar, stool, etc.

If you try to fluff up that by throwing in adjectives (i.e. a grimy table, gleaming window, wooden floor), the chances are you'll either have (i) made the description even more boring, or (ii) made it odd.

Of course, this works for that first passage we looked over from Margaret Atwood.

We sense Offred counting the few things she has in the little room she calls hers, the window and chair, etc., in terse phrasing. We sense her tension, her dissociation, and we feel trapped with her.

All the same, play with nouns, with taking your readers to new surroundings. Give them a Moloko. Play with surroundings, how you can make them different, how you can render the ordinary extraordinary. With the right nouns in place, you'll need fewer adjectives to jazz things up - and when you do use them, they'll feel right, not over the top.

Happy writing!
About the author Harry Bingham has been a professional author for twenty years and more. He's been published by each of the three largest publishers in the world. He's hit bestseller lists, had a ton of critical acclaim, and has been published in the US, the UK, France, Germany, Spain, Italy, China, Japan . . . and lots of other places too. His work has been adapted for the screen and he's enjoyed (almost) every minute of his career. (More about Harry, more about his books).
As head of Jericho Writers (and previously the Writers' Workshop), Harry has helped hundreds of people find agents and get published. He'd love it if you were next. ( More about us.)

Make the hardest part of writing easier

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
How to write descriptions and create a sense of place | Jericho Writers

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Your first job as a storyteller is a simple one, and a crucial one. You have to get your passengers into your train - your readers into your story. Only then can you hope to transport them. And that crucial first step doesn't have much to do with characters or story or anything else.

# data[].attributes.headline
Methods of Characterisation in Literature

# data[].attributes.subject
Methods of Characterisation in Literature

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Methods of Characterization in Literature - Video & Lesson Transcript | Study.com

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Authors often rely on a process called characterization to create both literary characters and imagery for their readers. Take a close look at the...

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Characterization: Definitions and Examples | Literary Terms

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Characterization is a writer's tool, or "literary device" that occurs any time the author uses details to teach us about a person. This is used over the course of a story in order to tell the tale.

# data[].attributes.headline
Complete Guide to Different Points of View

# data[].attributes.subject
Complete Guide to Different Points of View

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Never trust anyone who doesn't believe in the power of the imagination. Not our words, but those of William Shakespeare, and, let's face it, he knew a thing or two about harnessing the fertile properties of the imagination.

Ok, we come clean, they are our words - we just thought the old Bard would add some gravitas. You see, we're attempting to extol the virtues of being cool through the medium of literature.

Maybe we should have just cut to the chase. So without further digression, 40 of the coolest cats the printed word (and the imagination behind the quill, typewriter or word processor) has conjured up. Think of them as imaginary buddies you'd want to go for a pint with...

See our list of Best Dystopian Novels

Sebastian Dangerfield (The Ginger Man)

Author: J. P. Donleavy

Sebastian Dangerfield is a whirlwind of bohemian misadventure. An American of Irish descent studying in Dublin, he is a somewhat immoral beast - relentlessly cheating on his young wife who is trying to raise their infant daughter, and forever drunk - but you can't help rooting for him. A cross between an Oscar Wilde character and Han Solo, Dangerfield lights up Donleavy's uproariously lively depiction of Ireland in 1947.

The Little Prince (The Little Prince)

Author: Antoine De Saint-Exupéry

An astronaut-cum-gardener-cum-prophet, the Little Prince is perhaps the wisest character in the history of literature. He may appear to be a naïve and helpless child aimlessly wandering around space, but his quest is concerned with the most fundamental question of all - what is life for? A special little boy with an infectious mop of golden hair.

Logan Mountstuart (Any Human Heart)

Author: William Boyd

Somewhat purposefully Logan Mountstuart is presented as a half-remembered man of letters in Any Human Heart. But the vibrant Mountstuart is one of the most interesting characters in modern literature - an intellectual constantly making a mess of things; a doomed romantic; a curious spectator at many of the most significant events of the 20th century. A man, above all, who you'd like to share a beer, or four, with.

Atticus Finch (To Kill A Mockingbird)

Author: Harper Lee

Atticus Finch might not exemplify the most obvious characteristics of cool: he's not reciting freeform poetry to impress women at 4am, but the detail is everything. Bold, heroic, noble, honourable... Atticus Finch is a vision of idealised masculinity. He is a true role model in every sense of the word, and if that isn't cool then we might as well all give up and go home.

Arturo Bandini (Wait Until Spring, Bandini)

Author: John Fante

John Fante is one of the unsung heroes of 20th century American literature. His unflinching prose and depictions of social realism found its greatest character in Arturo Bandini. In essence, Bandini was Fante - a struggling writer, unapologetically embracing life with a vigour that may have bordered on the reckless, but was nonetheless captivating. Bandini was the protagonist in four Fante novels - Ask The Dust being the most notorious, but Wait Until Spring, Bandini, the first.

Falstaff (Henry IV, Part I)

Author: William Shakespeare

Sir John Falstaff is the archetypal rogue - a larger than life cad that could eat, drink and make merry for England. And in three Shakespeare plays that's exactly what he does. He gets Prince Hal (the future Henry V) into all manner of colourful scrapes. Everyone knows a similar riotously funny scoundrel, and that's why Falstaff has endured in the affectation of Shakespeare acolytes down the years.

Dimitri Kallas (King Suckerman)

Author: George Pelecanos

Pelecanos might be better known for his involvement with The Wire, but it's his hard-boiled crime novels that purists return to. The mesmeric Dimitri Karras is first introduced in King Suckerma n, the second book in his DC Quartet, and he quickly becomes the pivotal figure in Pelecanos's vivid world. From glorious youth to the lessons hard learned (and earned) by middle age, Karras, and his buddy Marcus Clay, leap from the page again and again.

Joe Kavalier (The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay)

Author: Michael Chabon

In 1939, Joe Kavalier, a Jewish 19-year-old budding artist and magic/escapologist nut flees Nazi-occupied Prague and goes to live with his cousin Sam Clay. Kavalier is typically taciturn, but cool. A dashing and heroic young man obsessed with saving his family, he pours his creative efforts into bashing the Nazis, while romancing the novel's beautiful and captivating heroine. Think of Kavalier as equal parts Atticus Finch and mythical Superman.

Huckleberry Finn (Adventures of Huckleberry Finn)

Author: Mark Twain

Long before Jack Kerouac and his beat buddies went traversing America in search of life, kicks and fast times, Huckleberry Finn was having his own unforgettable adventures up and down the Mississippi. A wonderfully observed figure full of childlike charm and wonder, Huckleberry Finn is one of the totemic figures in literature. His pursuit of freedom and his dealings with race and racism make him one of the coolest kids ever.

Art Keller (The Power Of The Dog)

Author: Don Winslow

Vietnam vet and DEA agent Art Keller is like a dog with a bone. An obsessive individual who over the course - a full 29 years - of Don Winslow's tour-de-force exploration of America's helpless 'war on drugs', refuses to bow down in the face of seemingly unbeatable odds. Rather than a bland hero, Keller is flawed; his determination is admirable, but despite his cunning, his unflinching masculinity and righteousness, will he lose everything?

Dean Moriarty (On The Road)

Author: Jack Kerouac

Dean Moriarty was the personification of the beat generation - a charismatic individual whose values and beliefs signalled a clear break with traditional America. The real Moriarty - Neal Cassady - might have been a Byron-esque character (mad, bad and dangerous to know), but on the page he simply evoked an era of unfettered cool.

Mark Renton (Trainspotting)

Author: Irvine Welsh

Let's get one thing straight: heroin isn't cool. But Mark Renton, Irvine Welsh's anti-hero, is. His friends might be doomed, but ultra-cynical Rents is somehow going to rise above this malaise. Maybe after his next hit, mind. His cultural tastes - especially on the subject of music - are well worth mirroring. Choose life; choose Rents.

Holly Golightly (Breakfast At Tiffany's)

Author: Truman Capote

Holly Golightly is an American icon - although that might have more to do with Audrey Hepburn's sublime portrayal of her in the cinematic adaptation, than Capote's original novella. Hepburn gave Golightly an air of chic elegance; in reality, Holly is much more troubled. However, her life - or the facade - is one long glamorous swirl of parties and living the Manhattan high life. Holly Golightly will always stand as a byword for metropolitan cool.

Mr Fox (Fantastic Mr Fox)

Author: Roald Dahl

Man's primal instinct is survival - well, that equally applies to foxes. Mr Fox displays all the traits associated with his vulpine tribe - cunning and trickery chief among them - and he regularly has need to call on them in order to outsmart the farmers who wish to do him and his family harm. Of course, this being a Roald Dahl novel, there is only winner. That Mr Fox sports a natty line in threads - especially his tweed suits - only elevates him in the pantheon of cool.

Sherlock Holmes (A Study In Scarlet)

Author: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

The greatest - and coolest - detective of all time. Erudite, witty, charming... Holmes set the benchmark against which all other fictional (and some not-so fictional) detectives are measured. Across four novels and 56 short stories, Holmes used all his powers of logic and persuasion to crack each case. And at the end of the day he used to relax with artificial stimulants - when cocaine was legal of course.

Snowball (Animal Farm)

Author: George Orwell

Another non-human; another cooler-than-thou radical. Snowball, a thinly disguised Leon Trotsky, is the good pig - to Napoleon's Stalin - in George Orwell's evergreen revolutionary allegory. Snowball was caring, deeply philosophical and was optimistic about the success of the revolution. That he was ostracised by the cynical Napoleon does not lessen our admiration for him.

Philip Marlowe (The Big Sleep)

Author: Raymond Chandler

They don't write men like they used to. Today, men have feelings, which is all well and good, but way back when - let's say the late Thirties through to the early Fifties - men wore suits, sported fedoras, drank whiskey or brandy, cracked wise and got the job done. This no-nonsense approach is beautifully exemplified by hard-boiled private eye Philip Marlowe, who was stunningly successful with the dames too. Simpler times, folks, simpler times.

Steven Stelfox (Kill Your Friends)

Author: John Niven

Now, much like we're not condoning the use of smack (see Mark Renton), we're not encouraging murder as a legitimate method of getting on in life. Actually we're not encouraging murder full stop. However, even though contemptuous A&R man Steven Stelfox is utterly obscene; has no redeeming qualities, and regularly dispatches of bodies with nary a trace of guilt, there's something venerable about his drive. Think of him as a Patrick Bateman for our deeply distrustful times.

Don Quixote (Don Quixote)

Author: Miguel de Cervantes

Don Quixote is routinely heralded as one of the greatest literary creations of all time. A member of the Spanish nobility who wants to embark on a noble quest to revive the dormant chivalric tradition, Don Quixote is a cool customer. Alongside his partner Sancho Panza, he traverses Spain and stumbles upon all manner of comic situations as he seeks to discover, well, who knows what? Some have speculated he wants to destroy injustice. Others say the meaning is infinite. That's pretty cool in our book.

Tristram Shandy (The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy)

Author: Laurence Sterne

Confusing, impenetrable, enigmatic, Tristram Shandy is one of literature's most perplexing characters. He is also one of the coolest. As the title suggests, the novel contains Shandy's wildly diverging and unmediated thoughts regurgitated onto the page in one long rebel yell. Embellishments and lies scatter the prose, as does plagiarism. Shandy is post-modern even before the era of the modern. Nice.

Holden Caulfield (The Catcher In The Rye)

Author: J.D. Salinger

While Holden Caulfield may typify everything that folk over the age of 30 find distasteful about youth - narcissism, angst, misguided rebellion... - it would be perverse not to include him here. Caulfield finds the world around him dispiriting and superficial; his alienation is laid bare in the clearest terms. Just because most of us compromise upon adulthood, doesn't mean we are right. Caulfield's supposed immaturity is actually a sign of his maturity. He's got the world figured.

The Artful Dodger (Oliver Twist)

Author: Charles Dickens

Whether the Artful Dodger was a petty criminal by circumstance or temperament needn't concern us. The clue to Jack Dawkins' hip credentials is provided by the adjective in his title. His pickpocketing skills are adroit and dexterous, and he uses his manifold wits to survive his harsh times. Deep beneath his streetwise exterior beats the heart of an impassioned and friendly young boy.

Andy Palmer (Generation X)

Author: Douglas Coupland

To be fresh out of adolescence in the early Nineties was a disorientating experience. The assumptions of the preceding baby boomer generation had been torn asunder. Into this void entered a generation of hyper intelligent, yet confused individuals. Andy Palmer is the ultimate evocation of this rootless life. His tales of working his McJob while trying to make sense of a new world order defined a very cool, but cautious, coterie of people.

Joseph K (The Trial)

Author: Franz Kafka

Of all the characters here, Joseph K is easily the most mysterious. A kind of bourgeois everyman, he is arrested for an unspecified crime. At first, he tries to discover why he has been arrested, but in time he becomes resigned to his fate. His cool detachment from the events that guide him inexorably towards his death are fantastic to behold.

Lisbeth Salander (The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo)

Author: Steig Larsson

Do not mess with Lisbeth Salander. Complete with a litany of thoroughly modern ailments and qualities (computer hacker; brutal haircuts), Salander is not to be messed with - although many have tried. Larsson speculated that Salander was what Pippi Longstocking might have been like when she grew up.

Randle Patrick McMurphy (One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest)

Author: Ken Kesey

R. P. McMurphy is a rebel with a cause. His decision to declare insanity in order to serve the rest of his prison sentence in comparative peace might be misguided, but once ensconced in a mental institution he shines like a beacon, especially in relation to the tyrannical Nurse Ratched. His efforts to coax life out of his fellow inmates are appreciated, thus confirming his heroic status.

Henry Chinaski (Post Office)

Author: Charles Bukowski

Bums, punks and outsiders might make for unlikely role models, but in the world of cool, straight society is shunned. Henry Chinaski is one such animated outcast. Like Fante's Arturo Bandini, Chinaski is the alter ego of Bukowski, and his colourful tales of hi jinks, gambling, womanising and boozing are effectively a panacea to any troubled by beige mediocrity. We might not want to be him, but we're grateful he's out there causing trouble at every turn.

Alice (Alice's Adventures In Wonderland)

Author: Lewis Carroll

Not many characters are recognisable by their first name alone - Alice is a notable exception. A young girl whose inquisitive nature holds a mirror up to the often complacent and acquiescent adult world, Alice is swept away by the magical world of Wonderland. The nonsensical world is where she can finally feel at home. A timeless reminder of the power of the imagination.

Rodion Raskolnikov (Crime and Punishment)

Author: Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Raskolnikov is a complex young chap, who believes he belongs to a camp of extraordinary humans who are not beholden to a society's laws, values and traditions. His hubris - he thinks of himself as a latter day radical Robin Hood - is only matched by his penury, and this uncomfortable combination is charted in Dostoyevsky's acclaimed work.

Becky Sharp (Vanity Fair)

Author: William Makepeace Thackeray

Whether intentional or not, Becky Sharp acts as a lacerating dagger at the heart of the British establishment. Her ambitious and overbearing manner might not be the quintessence of womanhood - especially as drawn by upper class society - but she recognises the abundant flaws in the human condition and seeks to highlight them mercilessly. A beautiful, clever, sometimes deceitful, but all-too-real literary creation.

Richard Katz (Freedom)

Author: Jonathan Franzen

Richard Katz's life reads like a roll call of cool - boho intellectual, rakish, womaniser, hedonist, musician in a renowned new wave band... And then just when he finds some sort of fulfilment, he finds creative success in early middle age with his alt.country outfit Walnut Surprise. Katz proves cool is an evolving state of mind and not just currency for the young. Succour for all who will never see 30 - let alone 40 - again.

The Father (The Road)

Author: Cormac McCarthy

Cool is too often associated with the nefarious activities of nattily dressed kids running amok in a neon-clad metropolis. What's really cool is protecting your son in a post-apocalyptic landscape, while recognising that you are dying. Cormac McCarthy's tribute to fatherhood is a vividly drawn, unnamed man that loves his son more than life itself. A poignant and unforgettable character.

Lord Henry Wotton (The Picture Of Dorian Gray)

Author: Oscar Wilde

Wotton is the archetypal Victorian aesthete and dandy. A man for who lavish extravagance, art and beauty are the only interesting things in life. A notorious hedonist, coruscating wit and delightful raconteur, he is what Dorian Gray aspires to be. Wotton is emblematic of his colourful times, but, moreover, a lively voice who will always be slightly askew of bland societal norms.

Colonel Aureliano Buendía (One Hundred Years of Solitude)

Author: Gabriel Garcia Marquez

The second son of José Arcadio Buendía - the founding father of Macondo - Colonel Aureliano is a complex character, combining brutality during the wars with moments of beatific artistic endeavour. His infectious, yet multifaceted nature is further highlighted by his voracious sexual behaviour: he fathers 17 sons and calls each one of them Aureliano. Like George Foreman.

Midori Kobayashi (Norwegian Wood)

Author: Haruki Murakami

Fun, spirited, outgoing, smart, sexy... Midori is just what the protagonist of Murakami's greatest novel, Toru Watanabe, needs after his doomed relationship with the former girlfriend of his best friend who killed himself. See? Midori is the personification of Sixties idealism, and is clearly embracing the changing times, while seeking to retain the positive aspects of traditional values.

Roland Deschain (the Dark Tower)

Author: Stephen King

A gunslingin' renegade is obviously going to be irredeemably cool. And so it is with Roland Deschain. Arguably Stephen King's greatest creation, Deschain is cut from the rugged rock that gives forth strong, silent types. A disciplined, no-nonsense anti-hero, he has suffered great injustice and misery in his life, thus making his principled and dignified dedication to his quest even more admirable.

Clay Easton (Less Than Zero)

Author: Bret Easton Ellis

Only the rich and glamorous can be professionally jaded by the age of 18. Clay is an unfeeling and cynical hedonist who uses people - men and women - much like he uses a toothbrush: for their functionality. His life is one big vivid and evocative swirl, but he's had enough of the hipster life. Cool as vicarious evil thrills.

Ignatius J. Reilly (A Confederacy Of Dunces)

Author: John Kennedy Toole

Quite possibly the funniest character in modern literature, the larger than life Ignatius J. Reilly deplores the modern world and its pop culture leanings. He dresses in a hunting cap, flannel shirt, baggy pants and scarf, and spends the entire novel criticising everyone and everything around him. He would no doubt despise the thought of being considered cool. Such disregard to these conventions makes him, inadvertently, very cool.

White Mike (Twelve)

Author: Nick McDonell

Drug dealers don't tend to be thoughtful 17-year-old philosophers, but that's the fate - ahem - dealt to White Mike. A boy who detests mind-altering substances - he even abstains from booze - he inhabits the vacuous upper class world of partying adolescents in Manhattan. Never seen in anything but an overcoat and jeans, his mysterious presence makes him an alienated hero for disaffected teens.

James Bond (Casino Royale)

Author: Ian Fleming

It's easy to forget that 007 began life in literature, rather than the big screen. But it was Bond's origins in the books of Ian Fleming - and not so secretly based on Fleming's work in the world of espionage - that first caused an ultra-cool fuss. Bond is a cold, detached secret agent with expensive tastes - a worldly, well-bred individual who can floor men (physically) and women (seductively) with equal style and minimum of fuss.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Never trust anyone who doesn't believe in the power of the imagination. Not our words, but those of William Shakespeare, and, let's face it, he knew a thing or two about harnessing the fertile properties of the imagination. Ok, we come clean, they are our words - we just thought the old Bard would add some gravitas.

# data[].attributes.headline
50 of the greatest characters in literature

# data[].attributes.subject
50 of the greatest characters in literature

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
One of the things literature does better than almost any other medium is allow us to experience another person's quality of mind, and sometimes even inhabit it. It follows, then, that every avid reader has a favorite literary character - whether they're beloved for dastardly deeds, tough-girl antics, sex appeal, or a high snark quotient - and that there are many impossibly good ones out there. After the jump, you'll find 50 of the best. To be clear: a great character isn't always one you like (just ask Claire Messud), but one that is somehow extraordinary, or evokes some kind of delicious story-feeling in the reader. As always, this list reflects the personal tastes and proclivities of its creator, and many great characters didn't make the cut (Jo March, Huck Finn, Merusault, Anne Shirley, looking at you), so if your favorite isn't on here, and them on in the comments.
Mary Katherine Blackwood, We Have Always Lived in the Castle, Shirley Jackson
"My name is Mary Katherine Blackwood," Jackson's classic novel begins. "I am eighteen years old, and I live with my sister Constance. I have often thought that with any luck at all I could have been born a werewolf, because the two middle fingers on both my hands are the same length, but I have had to be content with what I had. I dislike washing myself, and dogs, and noise. I like my sister Constance, and Richard Plantagenet, and Amantia phalloides, the deathcup mushroom. Everyone else in my family is dead." Strange and funny and constantly sizing up everyone around her and finding them wanting, MKB is the creepy little sister of my heart.
Behemoth, The Master and Margarita, Mikhail Bulgakov
But of course: no one could forget Behemoth, that fast-talking, gun-toting, vodka-swilling, chess-playing, hog-sized, demonic black cat. The devil's favorite jester, and mine too.
Humbert Humbert, Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov
Poor, monstrous, Eros-sick old Hum. One of the sneakiest characters in literature, not only in his many conniving schemes to get Lolita to be his very own, but also in that he manages to trick you into caring for him, even through your disgust and moral high ground. A fine trick indeed.
Lily Bart, The House of Mirth, Edith Wharton
Beautiful and finely dressed on the outside, but worn out and desperate on the inside - and never, ever rich enough - Lily Bart is a tragic heroine for the ages.
Hermione Granger, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, J.K. Rowling
As far as I'm concerned, the secret name for the Harry Potter books is Hermoine Granger and the Two Guys Who Bumble Around Near Her. Not only was she smart, self-possessed, tough, and well, pretty much always better than Harry and Ron in every way, she never got all self-pitying and boring like they did.
Atticus Finch, To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee
The ur-Daddy of your dreams.
Sherlock Holmes, The Complete Sherlock Holmes, Arthur Conan Doyle
In a way, it's hard to choose between Holmes and Watson - the latter is underrated and wonderful - but in the end, the acerbic, vain, "bohemian" consulting detective wins out for sheer force of character.
Emma Bovary, Madame Bovary, Gustave Flaubert
Flaubert's best creation (" Madame Bovary, c'est moi," he famously said) is beautiful and terrible and essentially romanticizes herself to death. Swoon.
Mickey Sabbath, Sabbath's Theater, Philip Roth
Mickey Sabbath is a depraved, cruel, aging ex-puppeteer - the dirty old man to rule all dirty old men - and one of the most reprehensible characters in literature. Which, obviously, makes him one of the most alluring to read about.
Sethe, Beloved, Toni Morrison
Sethe simply vibrates with pain, with despair, with want - but also with strength, and maybe, with hope. She is a force to be reckoned with, as other forces will find.
Tintin, Tintin in Tibet, Hergé
Everybody's favorite goody-two-shoes boy reporter, both big-hearted and blank, a still pool for us to see all our best selves within.
Saleem Sinai, Midnight's Children, Salman Rushdie
"Later variously called Snotnose, Stainface, Baldy, Sniffer, Buddha and even Piece-Of-The-Moon," Saleem is one of the greatest unreliable narrators of all time, tied to history, on an epic journey of self-creation.
Orlando, Orlando, Virginia Woolf
Woolf's famous hero/ine goes to sleep one night a man, and wakes up a woman. The book spans some 400 years, which Orlando watches with interest, the world changing while she stays the same, or mostly the same - unaffected by the constraints of time, gender, or society.
Elizabeth Bennet, Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen
Lizzy is not only her father's favorite child, but the reading public's favorite child in the mighty family of Austen heroines. Smart, irreverent, independent-minded (something rather extraordinary for her time), and blessed with "a lively, playful disposition, which delighted in anything ridiculous," she never fails to win me over.
Prince Hamlet, Hamlet, William Shakespeare
The murderous, morose, and probably insane Prince of Denmark is a perfect tragic hero - an existentialist questioner who can't figure out what he wants. A deep delight to read about, though you wouldn't want to know him (you'd probably end up dead, after all).
Celie, The Color Purple, Alice Walker
Here's a girl who starts off at the bottom of the barrel: a poor, uneducated black teenager in the American South of the 1930s, beaten and raped by the man she believes to be her father, the resultant children taken from her. But still, she finds a way towards self-actualization, independence, love, and even land - a remarkable transformation for a remarkable woman.
Willy Wonka, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Roald Dahl
A more wild and marvelous chocolatier than any child could dream up - but, of course, they don't have to try. Veruca Salt is a close second in this novel, in part because of her perfect, perfect name.
Jane Eyre, Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë
She may be "poor, obscure, plain, and little," but Charlotte Brontë's best creation is one tough cookie. Passionate, intelligent, and moral would be a better set of adjectives. She won't even run away to be the mistress of her beloved Mr. Rochester on account of her "impassioned self-respect and moral conviction." Better still: she's the nerdy girl who gets the guy in the end. Gotta love her.
Princess Cimorene, The Enchanted Forest Chronicles, Patricia C. Wrede
Here's the deal: Princess Cimorene hates embroidering, hair-curling, and learning the proper way to set a table - not to mention the proper times to scream when being abducted by a giant. So she runs off to become a dragon's princess, where she fits in just fine, organizing the library, practicing her Latin, making cherries jubilee, learning spells, and refusing every misinformed prince who tries to "rescue" her. She is the toughest, coolest princess who has ever been committed to print, and I love her.
Cosimo Piovasco di Rondo, The Baron in the Trees, Italo Calvino
You've got to love him for his romanticism - Cosimo, who, for a promise made to a pretty girl, decides to live out his life in the branches of trees, never putting a foot on the ground. He's eccentric, he's stalwart, he's frankly ingenious - and funny as hell, too.
Miss Havisham, Great Expectations, Charles Dickens
I'm going to call Miss Havisham Dickens' best creation - though I expect there are many who'd fight me on that. She's bonkers in the most fabulous way: a woman who, after being abandoned 20 minutes before her wedding by her husband-to-be, had all the clocks stopped at the moment of her betrayal and just continued living in her wedding dress, her house decaying around her, with only one shoe on. Then, she tried to raise Estella to be a cruel and heartless girl (for her own protection, for her own revenge). Tragic, perhaps, but forever fascinating.
Holden Caulfield, The Catcher in the Rye, J.D. Salinger
Full disclosure: I actually kind of hate Holden Caulfield. When I was a teenager picking up this book, I read a few pages before putting it down, thinking that I just couldn't with this jerk for a whole novel. But I do recognize him as one of the best illustrations of a certain kind of angsty, disillusioned youth, slouching around with a totally lousy attitude. And hey - he's a literary cultural icon who has never been immortalized on screen: a major achievement in this day and age.
Hugo Whittier, The Epicure's Lament, Kate Christensen
Cranky, cranky Hugo Whittier is one of my all time favorites - rude and self-absorbed, but also smart as hell and delightfully grumpy all the time. He's like the patron saint of disgruntled geniuses.
Gandalf, The Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien
Dream Daddy part two: wizard edition. A warrior and protector of good who also likes to smoke a little of that fine pipe-weed. Only on special occasions, though.
Don Quixote de la Mancha, Don Quixote, Miguel de Cervantes
The most rational madman around.
Oscar Wao, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, Junot Díaz
How could anyone not love Oscar Wao, the fat, Dominican, and cursed "Ghetto Nerd at the End of the World" (New Jersey)? An outcast, a lover obsessed with love, and a major sci-fi geek, Oscar is simply delightful.
Holly Golightly, Breakfast at Tiffany's, Truman Capote
The original Manic Pixie Dream Girl, but rather better. A "café society girl" on the Upper East Side of New York in the '40s, Golightly was an eccentric beauty on the run from an old life, ambivalent about morality but sure about what she likes and doesn't like.
Harry 'Rabbit' Angstrom, Rabbit, Run, John Updike
A 26-year-old who peaked in high school with a massive Peter Pan complex. The worst, right? And yet, we'd follow him anywhere.
Charles Kinbote, Pale Fire, Vladimir Nabokov
Without giving too much away: Kinbote is the supposed academic who writes the foreword and notes to the epic eponymous poem of the great John Shade. He's also (probably) insane and (definitely) brilliant. A trickster for the record books.
Beatrice, Much Ado About Nothing, William Shakespeare
Not only is Beatrice the whip-tongued, bad-ass, take-no-shit-nor-prisoners girl of your dreams, she was also way, way ahead of her time. Her famous speech about the indignities of womanhood after her cousin is attacked at the altar always leaves me breathless:

Is he not approved in the height a villain, that hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O that I were a man! What, bear her in hand until they come to take hands; and then, with public accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated rancour, -O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market-place. ... Princes and counties! Surely, a princely testimony, a goodly count, Count Comfect; a sweet gallant, surely! O that I were a man for his sake! or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake! But manhood is melted into courtesies, valour into compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercules that only tells a lie and swears it. I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving.
Sebastian Flyte, Brideshead Revisited, Evelyn Waugh
The spoiled, rude, teddy-bear toting Sebastian probably wouldn't be much fun to be friends with, but he's sure delicious to read about.
Nancy Drew, The Secret of the Old Clock, Carolyn Keene
The mythic girl detective: powerful, brainy, and totally on to you.
Leopold Bloom, Ulysses, James Joyce
A bizarre, bulbous fellow who is introduced in the novel as one who "ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and fowls. He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a stuffed roast heart, liverslices fried with crustcrumbs, fried hencods' roes. Most of all he liked grilled mutton kidneys which gave to his palate a fine tang of faintly scented urine." Yum?
Raskolnikov, Crime and Punishment, Fyodor Dostoevsky
A struggling, basically nihilistic ex-law student who thinks great thoughts, but lets them lead him to dastardly deeds.
Frankenstein's Monster, Frankenstein, Mary Shelley
In the original novel, the monster is a tragic figure - accidentally murderous, deeply hopeful, seeking answers, seeking love. Well, aren't we all?
Lyra Silvertongue, His Dark Materials trilogy, Philip Pullman
Unruly, headstrong, and critical to the survival of the world, Miss Lyra is a wonder. Not least because of her uncanny ability able to read that tricky alethiometer, to sweet-talk the un-sweet-talkable, and to make just about everyone, especially the reader, fall head over heels in love with her.
Patrick Bateman, American Psycho, Bret Easton Ellis
You can't actually like Patrick Bateman. But he's like an über-fit, totally neurotic human car crash - you don't want to see, but you just can't look away. Of himself, he says,

...there is an idea of a Patrick Bateman, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there. It is hard for me to make sense on any given level. Myself is fabricated, an aberration. I am a noncontingent human being. My personality is sketchy and unformed, my heartlessness goes deep and is persistent. My conscience, my pity, my hopes disappeared a long time ago (probably at Harvard) if they ever did exist. There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it, I have now surpassed. I still, though, hold on to one single bleak truth: no one is safe, nothing is redeemed.

See what I mean?
Captain Ahab, Moby-Dick, Herman Melville
There's nothing better than a megalomaniac on a mission of revenge.
Sula, Sula, Toni Morrison
The rebellious and headstrong Sula throws off every social convention she learned in her small town, at the cost of nearly everything in her life (when she comes home, everybody thinks she's the devil). Which is really pretty bad ass.
Oblomov, Oblomov, Ivan Goncharov
The laziest character in all of literature, who once "rose from his chair, but, failing at once to insert his foot into a slipper, sat down again."
The Invisible Man, Invisible Man, Ralph Ellison
A man hiding from the world in a basement burning 1,369 light bulbs with stolen electricity tells the story of his life - and finds the truth of his own identity while he does so. You love him for his striving, for his strangeness, for all the injustices he weathers.
Clarissa Dalloway, Mrs. Dalloway, Virginia Woolf
The best kind of party hostess is one whom even defenestration will not faze.
Hedda Gabler, Hedda Gabler, Henrik Ibsen
The terrifying, enigmatic Hedda Gabler always seems as though she's capable of anything - and she proves herself capable of quite a bit, fueled by rage and boredom and a boiling need for freedom.
Ignatius J. Reilly, A Confederacy of Dunces, John Kennedy Toole
In the book's foreword, Walker Percy describes Ignatius as a "slob extraordinary, a mad Oliver Hardy, a fat Don Quixote, a perverse Thomas Aquinas rolled into one." He's a lout with a faulty valve. You might hate him, but there's no denying he is a genius creation.
Lisbeth Salander, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Steig Larsson
An antisocial, tough-as-nails computer hacker with a photographic memory, dubbed by many as a "feminist avenging angel." A little violent, sure, but she's still one of the most kick-ass female characters in recent memory.
Madeline, Madeline, Ludwig Bemelmans
"In an old house in Paris, that was covered with vines, lived twelve little girls in two straight lines... the smallest one was Madeline." But not only the smallest: also the toughest ("To the tiger in the zoo, Madeline just said 'Pooh-pooh.'"), the most impetuous, and the best.
Peter Pan, Peter Pan, J.M. Barrie
The dream of eternal youth in one compact little package.

Scarlett O'Hara, Gone With the Wind, Margaret Mitchell

"Not beautiful" perhaps, but a self-centered schemer for the ages. She may not be a very nice person, but you have to love her when she says,

I'm tired of everlastingly being unnatural and never doing anything I want to do. I'm tired of acting like I don't eat more than a bird, and walking when I want to run and saying I feel faint after a waltz, when I could dance for two days and never get tired. I'm tired of saying, 'How wonderful you are!' to fool men who haven't got one-half the sense I've got, and I'm tired of pretending I don't know anything, so men can tell me things and feel important while they're doing it.

Preach, sister.
Matilda, Matilda, Roald Dahl
A girl so smart she develops telekinesis? Instant favorite.
Jay Gatsby, The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald
The ultimate romantic, who builds a lavish empire just to impress a girl - and the fictional embodiment of that alluring, disastrously misleading American Dream.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
50 of the Greatest Characters in Literature

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
One of the things literature does better than almost any other medium is allow us to experience another person's quality of mind, and sometimes even inhabit it. It follows, then, that every avid reader has a favorite literary character - whether...

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Since the start of fiction, we've seen ourselves in animals, Gods and monsters and used them to populate fantastical worlds in which we're happy to get lost. Sometimes, the best way to explore an idea is to do so using non-human characters, and sometimes it's just enjoyable to invent and enjoy beings that never were.

Often, non-humans are used to make us really think about what it is to be human, but not every non-human character relates to us in the same way. Let's take a look at the different types of non-human characters and how you can write them.

Writing the altered human

Sometimes stories suit non-human protagonists with a recognizably human outlook. This amounts to a more or less cosmetic change for both characters and locations. Children's stories tend to employ this type of non-human character, as it combines a familiar outlook with a degree of whimsy.

Are you writing a genuine non-human, or just a human character with a few cosmetic changes? Click To Tweet

This type of non-human protagonist can be best understood as a result of current, real-world humanity. If humans woke up tomorrow as cats and just accepted the situation, this is how they would act.

Michael Hoeye's Time Stops for No Mouse stars mouse characters who dress like humans, think like humans and attempt to hold down jobs. When writing this kind of non-human, most of the enjoyment comes from little changes. A mouse Statue Of Liberty is amusing but appropriate, and the characters are unlikely to use the term 'raining cats and dogs' in the same context.

Likewise, writing alien civilizations often requires a non-human character who is basically an altered human. The advantage of this type of non-human is that there are few extra worries about believability compared to human characters. It's relatively simple to plug new referents into a human outlook and present the reader with a familiar mind-set.

The problem with the altered human is that despite their familiarity, they are the least realistic type of non-human. Our own culture is the result of billions of species-specific events and individuals; think how many of our idioms come from Shakespeare, and so any particularly thoughtful reader will begin to wonder how the recognizable non-human society you describe came to exist.

Writing the extreme human

The extreme human is usually an attempt to write a more authentic non-human while still writing a character with which readers can sympathize. The extreme human involves taking a single aspect of human culture and making it the focus of a non-human culture, or taking an extreme emotion and making it the norm.

This is often the case in narratives where the Earth comes under attack from an alien race who are, whatever their reasons for invading, inherently more aggressive than us. J.R.R Tolkien populates the world of Lord of the Rings with extreme human races such as the stoic, traditional dwarves and the effeminate, frequently cold elves.

The advantage of this method is that it can be used to create characters and races with a believable history while still working from a familiar human blueprint. How would our society be different if we were more aggressive or less affectionate? It also establishes natural rivalries and grudges when two understandable sets of ideals clash.

While the extreme human is a good base from which to try and write an authentically non-human character, it comes with its own problems. Cultural bias means we tend to see ourselves as 'normal' and understand different cultures and worldviews as variations on our own. In the same way that other cultures aren't just ours with weird bits added, extreme human characters can ring untrue if the 'normal' human worldview shines through.

Writing the authentically non-human

While the altered human and extreme human characters are useful for writers and ideal for many stories, writing a truly non-human character is more of a challenge. This is because a truly non-human character wouldn't just react to the world differently, they would operate according to a whole other set of perceptions.

If a lion could speak, we could not understand him.
- Ludwig Wittgenstein

By this, Wittgenstein means that even if the lion spoke to us in English, we would still not share sufficient referents, ideas or experiences to communicate. It is not just that we have a different understanding of the world, but that the same experiences would have fundamentally different relevance to us.

Think about how a non-humans character's life will change how they see a situation. Click To Tweet

How differently do humans and lions understand scent? What would a 'bad' smell mean to each? Lions are liable to seek out and cover themselves in smells humans consider rotten. Even if the talking lion and a human meet and agree there is a 'bad smell' one means 'we're undergoing an unpleasant sensory experience' and the other means 'we've found a useful hunting tool'.

Consider this dichotomy as something that pertains to every single word and you can see how different humans are to even the most recognizable non-humans. The challenge for a truly gifted author is to communicate this profound sense of difference in a way with which the reader can engage.

Blue and Orange Morality

Blue and orange morality is a term which references the idea of black and white morality: that good and evil exist and form opposite points on a spectrum. The idea is that rather than being 'evil', non-human characters actually judge their own morality on completely different criteria. Their own moral poles, just as directly opposed as our own concepts of good and evil, are consistent but not familiar.

In China Mi éville's Perdido Street Station, a race known as the Weavers don't understand good and evil as we would. Instead, their morality is based on aesthetic pleasure: their blue and orange morality poles are beauty and ugliness. A Weaver might consider a murder morally right because they find it to have a pleasing visual aesthetic. In this example, the Weaver idea of ugliness is just as complex and individual as our definition of evil.

Blue and orange morality makes non-human characters feel consistent and real. Click To Tweet

So how can authors communicate an entirely different set of values? In relation to this challenge, there are two sub-groups of truly non-human characters.

1. The truly alien

This is where the reader experiences a genuinely alien perception. There will inevitably come a time when the truly alien needs to be understood on its own terms, even if it's only for a moment. In Neil Gaiman's Eternals,the God and creator of countless worlds communicates with humans through a mixture of speech and telepathy:

Tell them that I am (awake/alive/monitoring). That I will (watch/listen), and that once I have seen enough, I shall judge.

Gaiman presents the complexity of the God's communication which is so alien that single concepts to the God can only be understood by humans as combinations of familiar ideas.

The creation of such false synonyms is one of the best tools for communicating a truly alien viewpoint. When a fairy addresses an eighty-year-old man as 'child', the jarring difference between their perception and ours offers a form of context.

It can take a lot of work to find the right vocabulary for a non-human's orange and blue morality but keeping in mind the core values and experiences that define them will help. Write down why humans are the way they are, our physical and emotional needs and where they came from, to get an idea of how base needs lead to complex behaviors.

2. The integrated alien

This is the opposite of the extreme human, beginning with the truly alien and then adding a few recognizable human traits.

Giving your truly alien character some recognizable values and referents can be used to highlight the areas in which they differ and can be easily explained as a result of their integration with human characters. The talking lion might have learned the art of conversation but might still approach social interactions as a dominant, predatory animal.

Only non-human

Of course the type of non-human character you write depends on the story you want to tell and their role in it. Happily, different types can borrow from each other, so even if you're writing an altered human mouse, take a moment to really think how an animal that is constantly hunted might act.

Any type of non-human character is more easily explored when accompanied by humans, who can act as ciphers for the reader by exploring and questioning non-human behavior. The less recognizable your non-human's worldview, the more useful you'll find an inquisitive human.

Don't worry too much, though: readers have an incredibly active approach to understanding characters and (as long as there's a sense of a consistent worldview) they'll find a way to engage with even the truly alien non-humans. Above all make sure to write characters you enjoy, understand and believe in.

For more advice on your use of characters, try How Many Characters Should A Novel Have? and Don't Let Fake Minor Characters Ruin Your Story. Or for the moment when two non-human worldviews clash check out Here's How To Write A Damn Good Fight Scene and Are Your Characters Talking At Cross-Purposes? Why Not? Finally, if you're committed to inventing a non-human world from the ground up, You're Making A Mistake In Your World Building: Here's How To Fix It is for you.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Are You Writing Believable Non-Human Characters?

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Since the start of fiction, we've seen ourselves in animals, Gods and monsters and used them to populate fantastical worlds in which we're happy to get lost. Sometimes, the best way to explore an idea is to do so using non-human characters, and sometimes it's just enjoyable to invent and enjoy beings that never were.

# data[].attributes.headline
Margaret Atwood on narrative point of view ...

# data[].attributes.subject
Margaret Atwood on narrative point of view ...

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
New writers often struggle to properly format dialogue. The rules are strict and different than prose, but easily mastered. Whether you are writing a short story, full novel or anything in between, the way you format dialogue is the same.

The examples below demonstrate how to properly format dialogue in various situations.

However, writing dialogue in the proper format and composing effective dialogue are two different things. Be sure to check out my tips and examples on how to write engaging dialogue.

Rules to Format Dialogue

1. Enclose the spoken words with double quotation marks.

Note: The British use single quotation marks.

2. Dialogue tags (the he asked/she said portions) stay outside the quotes and get separated by a comma.

Note: When dialogue ends in a question or exclamation mark, tags that follow start in lower case.

"What's new?" she asked.

3. Actions that occur before or after the dialogue go in a separate sentence. For example, If Cindi screamed and then spoke, you write it this way:

Cindi screamed. "Oh my God!"

On the other hand, if Cindi screamed out the words, use a comma instead of a period (so that it's all part of the same sentence).

Cindi screamed, "Oh my God!"

4. Punctuation goes inside the quotes.

Note: If the dialogue ends with an ellipsis, do not add a comma or any other punctuation.

5. If you have to quote something within the dialogue, use single quotation marks. (Brits reverse the use of double and single quotes.)

6. Start a new paragraph every time you change speakers. If the speaker performs actions linked to the dialogue, keep everything in the same paragraph. Why? Readers easily lose track of which character is speaking. A new paragraph helps readers by signalling a change.

Note: Indent the first line of these paragraphs, just like all other paragraphs.

"That bastard!"

7. If an action interrupts a sentence in the dialogue, use lower case on the first letter of the second fragment.

8. If the same speaker talks long enough to require a new paragraph, place opening quotation marks at the beginning of each paragraph. However, closing quotation marks are placed only at the end of the final paragraph.

Summary

Follow these examples and you will soon format dialogue like a pro. Be sure to bookmark this page so you can find it fast.

If you have questions, corrections or things that I've overlooked, please tell me in the comments below.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
How To Format Dialogue | First Manuscript

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
New writers often struggle to properly format dialogue. The rules are strict and different than prose, but easily mastered. Whether you are writing a short story, full novel or anything in between, the way you format dialogue is the same. The examples below demonstrate how to properly format dialogue in various situations.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Dialogue is a useful tool for developing your characters and moving your plot forward. Dialogue can help you establish the backstory, and it can reveal important plot details that the reader may not know about yet.

Dialogue is great for ratcheting up the tension between characters.

Dialogue can also establish the mood. By playing off characters' verbal exchanges, you can set an atmosphere for each scene. Remember that there's tension in what's spoken, and especially in what's not spoken.

All dialogue should pass the following criteria:

It must move the story forward. After each conversation or exchange, the reader should be one step closer to either the climax or the conclusion of your story.

It should reveal relevant information about the character. The right dialogue will give the reader insight into how the character feels, and what motivates him or her to act.

It must help the reader understand the relationship between the characters.

If your dialogue doesn't accomplish all of the above, it is a waste of words.

Now, let's take a look at how to write the best dialogue for your story.

Top Tips for Better Dialogue

Here's what you need to know to write forward-focused dialogue:

Keep it brief

Dialogue shouldn't go over for pages and pages. If that happens, you should probably be writing a play, and not a novel.

The best dialogue is brief. It's a slice and not the whole pizza. You don't need to go into lengthy exchanges to reveal an important truth about the characters, their motivations, and how they view the world.

Plus, dialogue that goes on for too long can start to feel like a tennis match with the reader switching back and forth between characters. Lengthy dialogue can be exhausting for the reader. Pair the dialogue down to the minimum that you need for the characters to say to each other.

Avoid small talk

Oh, this one is music to my introvert ears.

In your novel, never ever waste your dialogue with small talk.

In the real world, small talk fills in the awkward silence, but in the world of your novel, the only dialogue to include is the kind that reveals something necessary about the character and/or plot.

How's the weather? doesn't move the plot.

If you'd like to show that your character doesn't like awkward pauses, work on characterization and scene description. Instead of using mind-numbingly long exchanges, show the character's discomfort by describing how she taps her fingers against the window pane, or takes a series of sharp sighs.

Don't try to make your dialogue sound too "real" by including small talk. Small talk can water down the effectiveness of your scene. Instead, pick exchanges that capture the essence of the moment, and bypass small talk altogether. Let that be an understood nod between you and the reader, and dive right into the action.

So, instead of starting with "Hey, how are you?" "I'm fine, how are you?", start with the action: "I can't believe you're showing your face around here after what you did to Papa."

Don't info dump

While you can certainly use dialogue to learn more about your characters, you shouldn't use it to dump a whole lot of information on the reader.

It's cringeworthy to read a dialogue exchange that starts with:

"As you know..."

If the character already knows, then why is the other character repeating it? I also hate when characters (especially villains) go into lengthy reasons why they did or are doing X, Y, Z.

No one talks like that. No one interacts like that.

If you must info dump, don't do it in dialogue. Info dump slows dialogue to a grinding halt. It sounds awkward. And it actually insults the reader.

So, what's the difference between info dumping and revealing relevant information? Info dump is a large amount of exposition given all at once, and left for the reader to sort out. Relevant information is more subtle, and it's dispensed a little at a time.

Give your characters a unique way of speaking

Every character, just like every person you know, will have a unique way of speaking and delivering their thoughts.

Some people are more forceful and deliberate. Others are more passive and meandering. You can honor these (and other) different styles without rambling. My preferred method is to focus on word choice.

For example, to show that someone is rather gruff or abrupt, go towards single syllable or somewhat quick words, like "yeah."

But, if I were looking for words for a charming character, I'd choose more graceful phrasing, like "of course."

Same basic concept but different delivery, based on character.

Of course, word choice alone can't dictate character. You'll do most of this through characterization, but word choice should subtly support and reinforce characterization.

Along with word choice, I also like establishing a pattern of speech. Does the character speak in a sharp staccato, or a deliberate, flowy manner? By knowing how the character (especially the protagonist) speaks, you can create consistency whenever the character dialogues with others.

Be consistent

Remember to be consistent with your characters. Someone who speaks in a self-depreciating and shy demeanor won't automatically become bold and acerbic.

When your characters speak, they should stay true to who they are. Even without character tags, the reader should be able to figure out who's talking.

Create suspense

Use dialogue to increase the suspense between characters.

It's human nature for people to withhold what they're truly thinking or feeling. People leave a lot unsaid, and this is also true for the characters in your novel. To create a realistic interaction between your characters, you must honor the fact that most people leave a lot of things unsaid.

But that doesn't mean that the reader can't be privy to what's being left unsaid. As a writer, you can build the scene, show the characters' motivations and desires before the scene, and let it play out, with the reader wanting a resolution that doesn't quite happen.

Answer the following questions to setup your scene for suspense:

Does one character have the upper hand in the scene?

Is the other character seething just under the surface?

What does the reader find out through the exchange?

You can control all of this through dialogue.

Honor the relationship

Characters tend to speak differently based on who they're speaking to. A character will speak to his mother differently than he does to his best friend. That's not a shift in consistency. It actually gives more depth and realness to the character.

You can still stay true to the personality you've created by using the same speech pattern.

Show, don't tell

"Show, don't tell" is the writer's mantra. When writing dialogue, it's easy to start "telling" what the characters are feeling instead of showing it.

Instead of your character saying, "I'm angry, Jan!" describe how the character's body is closed-- tight lips, narrow eyes, deep breaths.

Don't underestimate your reader. The reader likes to see the scene, pick up the cues and come to the conclusion, instead of being told what to think.

Your dialogue shouldn't be completely on the nose, and explain exactly what the character is feeling. Most people-- including your characters-- aren't always aware of how they feel. And sometimes, what they say they feel is different from what they truly feel.

So, don't get lazy with your dialogue. Use it to reveal characters, but not directly.

By the way, body language is an important part of dialogue, and should be written into every scene. It gives the reader important clues that they'll use to recreate the scene in their mind.

Minimize identifying tags

"He said, she said" gets boring after a while. And the answer isn't to switch out those "said" tags with other words like "enthused" or "shouted". (By the way, when it doubt, "said" wins out.)

Not only is it boring for the reader to constantly see "he said" or "said she", it's also disruptive. Identifiers take the reader out of the immersive world of your story and reminds them that you, the author, are relaying a story. That can be pretty jarring, and it can happen if you use identifiers too often.

Of course, you can't not use identifiers. They're vital for establishing who's speaking, but can be minimized by doing the following:

Creating a unique pattern of speech, as we discussed above.

Using descriptive follow ups. (i.e. "That's not what I said." Vincent reached for the rock.)

I love the second option. You can show what the characters are doing to further emphasize their words, or add context to the scene.

Greetings and goodbyes aren't always necessary

While it's only polite to say hello and bid adieu, it's not necessary in novel dialogue to document these courtesies. You can use exposition for salutations, but do avoid writing a blow-by-blow. Instead, set up the scene by describing how the character enters or leaves the scene.

Avoid speeches and soliloquies

Most people, in conversation form, do not have the privilege of extended speech. They're almost always interrupted because who wants to listen to someone natter on and on?

Read it aloud

During the editing process, you should always read your manuscript aloud, but do pay special attention to your dialogue.

If the dialogue doesn't seem to flow, or you're tripping over your words, it's not going to sound right to the reader.

Even though you're not capturing every part of a conversation in your dialogue, everything that's written should sound like an actual person said it. If not, it's time to erase and try again.

Additional Resources

Before you go, check out these related posts:

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Tips for Writing Great Dialogue | NY Book Editors

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Need help writing dialogue for your novel? This guide will give you tips for writing smart dialogue that helps the reader connect with your characters.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
In my experience as an editor, point of view problems are among the top mistakes I see new writers make, and they instantly erode credibility and reader trust. Point of view isn't easy though, since there are so many to choose from: first person, third person limited, third person omniscient, and second person.

What do those even mean? And how do you choose the right one for your story?

All stories are written from a point of view. However, when point of view goes wrong-and believe me, it goes wrong often-you threaten whatever trust you have with your reader. You also fracture their suspension of disbelief.

However, point of view is simple to master if you use common sense.

This post will define point of view, go over each of the major POVs, explain a few of the POV rules, and then point out the major pitfalls writers make when dealing with that point of view.

Need help with point of view? To get a cheatsheet of the two most common POVs used in fiction, click here.

Point of View Definition

The point of view, or POV, in a story is the narrator's position in the description of events, and comes from the Latin word, punctum visus, which literally means point sight. The point of view is where a writer points the sight of the reader.

Note that point of view also has a second definition.

In a discussion, an argument, or nonfiction writing, a point of view is an opinion about a subject. This is not the type of point of view we're going to focus on in this article (although it is helpful for nonfiction writers, and for more information, I recommend checking out Wikipedia's neutral point of view policy).

I especially like the German word for POV, which is Gesichtspunkt, translated "face point," or where your face is pointed. Isn't that a good visual for what's involved in point of view? It's the limited perspective of what you show your reader.

Note too that point of view is sometimes called narrative mode or narrative perspective.

Why Point of View Is So Important

Why does point of view matter so much?

Because point of view filters everything in your story. Everything in your story must come from a point of view.

Which means if you get it wrong, your entire story is damaged.

For example, I've personally read and judged thousands of stories for literary contests, and I've found point of view mistakes in about twenty percent of them. Many of these stories would have placed much higher if only the writers hadn't made the mistakes we're going to talk about soon.

The worst part is these mistakes are easily avoidable if you're aware of them. But before we get into the common point of view mistakes, let's go over each of the four types of narrative perspective.

The Four Types of Point of View

Here are the four primary types of narration in fiction:

First person point of view. First person perspective is when "I" am telling the story. The character is in the story, relating his or her experiences directly.

Second person point of view. The story is told to "you." This POV is not common in fiction, but it's still good to know (it is common in nonfiction).

Third person point of view, limited. The story is about "he" or "she." This is the most common point of view in commercial fiction. The narrator is outside of the story and relating the experiences of a character.

Third person point of view, omniscient. The story is still about "he" or "she," but the narrator has full access to the thoughts and experiences of all characters in the story. This is a much broader perspective.

I know you've seen and probably even used most of these point of views.

While these are the only types of POV, there are additional narrative techniques you can use to tell an interesting story. To learn how to use devices like epistolary and framing stories, check out our full narrative devices guide here.

Let's discuss each of the four types, using examples to see how they affect your story. We'll also go over the rules for each type, but first let me explain the big mistake you don't want to make with point of view.

The #1 POV Mistake

Do not begin your story with a first person narrator and then switch to a third person narrator. Do not start with third person limited and then abruptly give your narrator full omniscience.

The guideline I learned in my first creative writing class in college is a good one:

Establish the point of view within the first two paragraphs of your story.

And above all, don't change your point of view. If you do, it creates a jarring experience for the reader and you'll threaten your reader's trust. You could even fracture the architecture of your story.

That being said, as long as you're consistent, you can sometimes get away with using multiple POV types. This isn't easy and isn't recommended, but for example, one of my favorite stories, a 7,000 page web serial called uses two point of views-first person with interludes of third-person limited-very effectively. (By the way, if you're looking for a novel to read over the next two to six months, I highly recommend it-here's the link to read for free online.) The first time the author switched point of views, he nearly lost my trust. However, he kept this dual-POV consistent over 7,000 pages and made it work.

Whatever point of view choices you make, be consistent. Your readers will thank you!

Now, let's go into detail on each of the four narrative perspective types, their best practices, and mistakes to avoid.

First Person Point of View

In first person point of view, the narrator is in the story and telling the events he or she is personally experiencing.

The simplest way to understand first person is that the narrative will use first-person pronouns like I, me, and my.
Here's a first person point of view example from Herman Melville's Moby Dick:

Call me Ishmael. Some years ago-never mind how long precisely-having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world

First person narrative perspective is one of the most common POVs in fiction. If you haven't read a book in first person point of view, you haven't been reading.

What makes this point of view interesting, and challenging, is that all of the events in the story are filtered through the narrator and explained in his or her own unique narrative voice.

This means first person narrative is both biased and incomplete.

Other first person point of view examples can be found in these popular novels:

The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway

Twilight by Stephenie Meyer

Ready Player One by Ernest Cline

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

First Person Narrative is Unique to Writing

There's no such thing as first person in film or theater-although voiceovers and mockumentary interviews like the ones in The Office and Modern Family provide a level of first person narrative in third person perspective film and television.

In fact, the very first novels were written in first person, modeled after popular journals and autobiographies.

First Person Point of View is Limited

First person narrators are narrated from a single character's perspective at a time. They cannot be everywhere at once and thus cannot get all sides of the story.

They are telling their story, not necessarily the story.

First Person Point of View is Biased

In first person novels, the reader almost always sympathizes with a first person narrator, even if the narrator is an anti-hero with major flaws.

Of course, this is why we love first person narrative, because it's imbued with the character's personality, their unique perspective on the world.

The most extreme use of this bias is called an unreliable narrator. Unreliable narration is a technique used by novelists to surprise the reader by capitalize on the limitations of first person narration to make the narrator's version of events extremely prejudicial to their side and/or highly separated from reality.

You'll notice this form of narration being used when you, as the reader or audience, discover that you can't trust the narrator.

For example, Gillian Flynn's Gone Girl pits two unreliable narrators against one another. Each relates their conflicting version of events, one through typical narration and the other through journal entries. Another example is Fight Club, in which *SPOILER* the narrator has a split personality and imagines another character who drives the plot.

Other Interesting Uses of First Person Narrative:

The classic novel Heart of Darkness is actually a first person narrative within a first person narrative. The narrator recounts verbatim the story Charles Marlow tells about his trip up the Congo river while they sit at port in England.

William Faulkner's Absalom, Absalom is told from the first person point of view of Quentin Compson; however, most of the story is a third person account of Thomas Sutpen, his grandfather, as told to Quentin by Rosa Coldfield. Yes, it's just as complicated as it sounds!

Salman Rushdie's award-winning Midnight's Children is told in first person, but spends most of the first several hundred pages giving a precise third person account of the narrator's ancestors. It's still first person, just a first person narrator telling a story about someone else.

Two Big Mistakes Writers Make with First Person Point of View

When writing in first person, there are two major mistakes writers make:

1. The narrator isn't likable. Your protagonist doesn't have to be a cliché hero. She doesn't even need to be good. However, she must be interesting.

The audience will not stick around for 300 pages listening to a character they don't enjoy. This is one reason why anti-heroes make great first person narrators.

They may not be morally perfect, but they're almost always interesting.

2. The narrator tells but doesn't show. The danger with first person is that you could spend too much time in your character's head, explaining what he's thinking and how he feels about the situation.

You're allowed to mention the character's mood, but don't forget that your reader's trust and attention relies on what your character does, not what he thinks about doing.

Second Person Point of View

While not used often in fiction-it is used regularly in nonfiction, song lyrics, and even video games-second person POV is still helpful to understand.

In this point of view, the narrator relates the experiences using second person pronouns like you and your. Thus, you become the protagonist, you carry the plot, and your fate determines the story.

We've written elsewhere about why you should try writing in second person, but in short we like second person because it:

Pulls the reader into the action of the story

Makes the storypersonal

Surprises the reader

Stretches your skills as a writer

Here's an example from the breakout bestseller Bright Lights, Big City by Jay Mclnerney (probably the most popular example that uses second person point of view):

You have friends who actually care about you and speak the language of the inner self. You have avoided them of late. Your soul is as disheveled as your apartment, and until you can clean it up a little you don't want to invite anyone inside.

Second person narration isn't used frequently, however there are some notable examples of it.
Some other novels that use second person point of view are:

Remember the Choose Your Own Adventure series? If you've ever read one of these novels where you get to decide the fate of the character (I always killed my character, unfortunately), you've read second person narrative.

The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemison

The opening of The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

There are also many experimental novels and short stories that use second person, and writers such as William Faulkner, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and Albert Camus played with the style.
Breaking the fourth wall:
In the plays of William Shakespeare, a character will sometimes turn toward the audience and speak directly to them. In A Midsummer Night's Dream, Puck says:

If we shadows have offended, think but this, and all is mended, that you have but slumbered here while these visions did appear.

This narrative device of speaking directly to the audience or the reader is called breaking the fourth wall (the other three walls being the setting of the story).

To think of it another way, it's a way the writer can briefly use second person in a first or third person narrative.

It's a lot of fun! You should try it.

Third Person Point of View

In third person narration, the narrator is outside of the story and relating the experiences of a character.

The central character is not the narrator. In fact, the narrator is not present in the story at all.

The simplest way to understand third person narration is that it uses third-person pronouns, like he/she, his/hers, they/theirs.

There are two types of this point of view:

Third Person Omniscient

The all-knowing narrator has full access to all the thoughts and experiences of all the characters in the story.

Examples of Third Person Omniscient:

While much less common today, third person omniscient narration was once the predominant type, used by most classic authors. Here are some of the novels using omniscient perspective today.

War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy

Middlemarch by George Eliot

Where the Crawdad's Sing by Delia Owens

The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway

Still Life by Louise Penny (and all the Inspector Gamache series, which is amazing, by the way)

Gossip Girl by Cecily von Ziegesar

Strange the Dreamer by Laini Taylor

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

Crazy Rich Asians by Kevin Kwan (one of my favorites!)

A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula Le Guin

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

More third person omniscient examples can be found here

Third Person Limited

The narrator has only some, if any, access to the thoughts and experiences of the characters in the story, often just to one character.

Examples of Third Person Limited

Here's an example of a third person limited narrator from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by J.K. Rowling:

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous.... He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter-the boy who lived!"

Some other examples of third person limited narration include:

Game of Thrones series by George R.R. Martin (this has an ensemble cast, but Martin stays in one character's point of view at a time, making it a clear example of limited POV with multiple viewpoint characters, which we'll talk about in just a moment)

For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway

​The Way of Kings by Brandon Sanderson

The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson

Ulysses by James Joyce

Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

1984 byGeorge Orwell

Orphan Train byChristina Baker Kline

Fates and Furies by Lauren Groff

Should You Use Multiple Viewpoint Characters vs. a Single Perspective?

One feature of third person limited and first person narrative is that you have the option of having multiple viewpoint characters.

A viewpoint character is simply the character whose thoughts the reader has access to. This character become the focus of the perspective during the section of story or the story as a whole.

While it increases the difficulty, you can have multiple viewpoint characters for each narrative. For example, Game of Thrones has more than a dozen viewpoint characters throughout the series. Fifth Season has three viewpoint characters. Most romance novels have at least two viewpoint characters.

The rule is to only focus on one viewpoint character at a time (or else it changes to third person omniscient).

Usually authors with multiple viewpoint characters will change viewpoints every chapter. Some will change after section breaks. However, make sure there is some kind of break before changing so as to prepare the reader for the shift.

Should You Use Third Person Omniscient or Third Person Limited

The distinction between third persons limited and omniscient is messy and somewhat artificial.

Full omniscience in novels is rare-it's almost always limited in some way-if only because the human mind isn't comfortable handling all the thoughts and emotions of multiple people at once.

The most important consideration in third person point of view is this:

How omniscient are you going to be? How deep are you going to go into your character's mind? Will you read their thoughts frequently and deeply at any chance? Or will you rarely, if ever, delve into their emotions?

To see this question in action, imagine a couple having an argument.

Tina wants Fred to go to the store to pickup the cilantro she forgot she needed for the meal she's cooking. Fred is frustrated that she didn't ask him to pick up the cilantro on the way home from the office, before he had changed into his "homey" clothes (AKA boxer shorts).

If the narrator is fully omniscient, do you parse both Fred and Tina's emotions during each back and forth?

"Do you want to eat? If you do, then you need to get cilantro instead of acting like a lazy pig," Tina said, thinking, I can't believe I married this jerk. At least back then he had a six pack, not this hairy potbelly.

"Figure it out, Tina. I'm sick of rushing to the store every time you forget something," said Fred. He felt the anger pulsing through his large belly.

Going back and forth between multiple characters' emotions like this can give a reader whiplash, especially if this pattern continued over several pages and with more than two characters. This is an example of an omniscient narrator who perhaps is a little too comfortable explaining the characters' inner workings.

" Show, don't tell," we're told. Sharing all the emotions of all your characters can become distraction. It can even destroy any tension you've built.

Drama requires mystery. If the reader knows each character's emotions all the time, there will be no space for drama.

How do You Handle Third Person Omniscient Well?

The way many editors and many famous authors handle this is to show the thoughts and emotions of only one character per scene (or per chapter).

George R.R. Martin, for example, uses " point of view characters," characters whom he always has full access to understanding. He will write a full chapter from their perspective before switching to the next point of view character.

For the rest of the cast, he stays out of their heads.

This is an effective guideline, if not a strict rule, and it's one I would suggest to any first-time author experimenting with third person narrative. Overall, though, the principle to show, don't tell should be your guide.

The Biggest Third Person Omniscient Point of View Mistake

The biggest mistake I see writers make constantly in third person is head hopping.

When you switch point of view characters too quickly, or dive into the heads of too many characters at once, you could be in danger of what editors call "head hopping."

When the narrator switches from one character's thoughts to another's too quickly, it can jar the reader and break the intimacy with the scene's main character.

We've written about how you can get away with head hopping elsewhere, but it's a good idea to try to avoid going into more than one character's thoughts per scene or per chapter.

Can You Change POV Between Books In a Series?

What if you're writing a novel series? Can you change point of view or even POV characters between books?

The answer is yes, you can, but whether you should or not is the big question.

In general, it's best to keep your POV consistent within the same series. However, there are many examples of series that have altered perspectives or POV characters between series, either because the character in the previous books has died, for other plot reasons, or simply because of author choice.

For more on this, watch this coaching video where we get into how and why to change POV characters between books in a series:

Which Point of View Will You Use?

Here's a helpful point of view infographic to help you decide which POV to use in your writing:

Note that these distances should be thought of as ranges, not precise calculations. A third person narrator could conceivably draw closer to the reader than a first person narrator.

Most importantly, there is no best point of view. All of these points of view are effective in various types of stories.

If you're just getting started, I would encourage you to use either first person or third person limited point of view because they're easy to understand.

However, that shouldn't stop you from experimenting. After all, you'll only get comfortable with other points of view by trying them!

Whatever you choose, be consistent. Avoid the mistakes I mentioned under each point of view.

And above all, have fun!

Need help with point of view? To get a cheatsheet of the two most common POVs used in fiction, click here.

How about you? Which of the four points of view have you used in your writing? Why did you use it, and what did you like about it? Share in the comments.

PRACTICE

Using a point of view you've never used before, write a brief story about a teenager who has just discovered he or she has superpowers.

Make sure to avoid the POV mistakes listed in the article above.

Write for fifteen minutes. When your time is up, post your practice in the Pro Practice Workshop here (if you're not a member yet, you can ). And if you post, please be sure to give feedback to your fellow writers.

We can gain just as much value giving feedback as we can writing our own books!

Happy writing!

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Types of Point of View: The Ultimate Guide to First Person and Third Person POV

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
This post is our definitive point of view guide, going over first person vs third person limited vs third person omniscient, and the major pitfalls of each.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
All stories contain four elements that can determine structure: milieu, idea, character and event. While each is present in every story, there is generally one that dominates the others.

Which one dominates? The one that the author cares about most. This is why the process of discovering the structure of a story is usually a process of self-discovery. Which aspect of the story matters most to you? That is the aspect that determines your story's structure.

Let's take each element in turn and look at the structure that would be required if that were to be the dominant element in your story.

STRUCTURE 1: THE MILIEU STORY
The milieu is the world-the planet, the society, the weather, the family, all the elements that come up during your world-creation phase. Every story has a milieu, but when a story is structured around one, the milieu is the thing the storyteller cares about most. For instance, in Gulliver's Travels, it mattered little to Jonathan Swift whether we came to care about Gulliver as a character. The whole point of the story was for the audience to see all the strange lands where Gulliver traveled and then compare the societies he found there with the society of England in Swift's own day-and the societies of all the tale's readers, in all times and places. So it would've been absurd to begin by writing much about Gulliver's childhood and upbringing. The real story began the moment Gulliver got to the first of the book's strange lands, and it ended when he came home.

Milieu stories always follow that structure. An observer who sees things the way we'd see them gets to the strange place, observes things that interest him, is transformed by what he sees, and then comes back a new person.

This structure is most common in science fiction and fantasy, but it also occurs in other types of novels. James Clavell's Shogun, for instance, is a milieu story: It begins when the European hero is stranded in medieval Japan, and it ends when he leaves. He was transformed by his experiences in Japan, but he does not stay-he returns to his world. Other stories are told along the way-the story of the shogun, for instance-but regardless of how much we're drawn into those events, the real closure we expect at the end of the story is the main character's departure from Japan.

Likewise, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz doesn't end when Dorothy kills the Wicked Witch of the West. It ends when Dorothy leaves Oz and goes home to Kansas.

As you conceive and write your own story, if you realize that what you care about most is having a character explore and discover the world you've created, chances are this structure is your best choice.

When writing a milieu story, your beginning point is obvious-when the character arrives-and the ending is just as plain: when she leaves (or, in a variant, when she decides not to leave, ending the question of going home).

Such stories are typically most effective when seen through the viewpoint of the arriving character, as she'll be surprised by and interested in the same strange and marvelous (and terrible) things that engage the readers.

STRUCTURE 2: THE IDEA STORY
Idea stories are about the process of seeking and discovering new information through the eyes of characters who are driven to make the discoveries. The structure is very simple: The idea story begins by raising a question; it ends when the question is answered.

Most mysteries follow this structure. The story begins when a crime takes place. The question we ask is, "who did it and why?" The story ends when the identity and motive of the criminal are revealed.

In speculative fiction, a similar structure is quite common. The story begins with a question: Why did this beautiful ancient civilization on a faraway planet come to an end? Why are all these people gone, when they were once so wise and their achievements so great? The answer, in Arthur C. Clarke's "The Star," is that their sun went nova, making life impossible in their star system. And, ironically, it was the explosion of their star that the wise men saw as the sign of the birth of Christ. The story is told from the point of view of a Christian who believes that this must have been a deliberate act of God, to destroy a beautiful civilization for the sake of giving a sign to the magi.

When writing an idea story, begin as close as possible to the point where the question is first
raised, and end as soon as possible after the question is answered.

STRUCTURE 3: THE CHARACTER STORY
Character stories focus on the transformation of a character's role in the communities that matter most to him. Sure, in one sense, stories are almost always "about" one or more characters. In most stories, though, the tale is not about the character's character; that is, the story is not about who the character is.

Take, for example, the Indiana Jones movies. These are not character stories. The story is always about what Indiana Jones does, but never who he is. Jones faces many problems and adventures, but in the end, his role in society is exactly what it was before: part-time archaeology professor and full-time knight-errant.

By contrast, Carson McCullers' The Member of the Wedding is about a young girl's longing to change her role in the only community she knows-her household, her family. She determines that she wants to belong to her brother and his new wife; "they are the we of me," she decides. In the effort to become part of their marriage, she is thwarted-but in the process, her role in the family and in the world at large is transformed, and at the end of the story she is not who she was when she first began. The Member of the Wedding is a classic example of a character story.

The structure of a character story is as simple as any of the others. The story begins at the moment when the main character becomes so unhappy, impatient or angry in her present role that she begins the process of change; it ends when the character either settles into a new role (happily or not) or gives up the struggle and remains in the old role (happily or not).

STRUCTURE 4: THE EVENT STORY
In the event story, something is wrong in the fabric of the universe; the world is out of order. In classic literature, this can include the appearance of a monster ( Beowulf), the "unnatural" murder of a king by his brother ( Hamlet) or of a guest by his host ( Macbeth), the breaking of an oath ( Havelock the Dane), the conquest of a Christian land by the infidel ( King Horn), the birth of a child portent who some believe ought not to have been born ( Dune), or the reappearance of a powerful ancient adversary who was thought to be dead ( The Lord of the Rings). In all cases, a previous order-a "golden age"-has been disrupted and the world is in flux, a dangerous place.

The event story ends at the point when a new order is established or, more rarely, when the old order is restored or, rarest of all, when the world descends into chaos as the forces of order are destroyed. The story begins not at the point when the world becomes disordered, but rather at the point when the character whose actions are most crucial to establishing the new order becomes involved in the struggle. Hamlet doesn't begin with the murder of Hamlet's father; it begins much later, when the ghost appears to Hamlet and involves him in the struggle to remove the usurper and reestablish the proper order of the kingdom.

Almost all fantasy and much-perhaps most-science fiction uses the event story structure. Nowhere is it better handled than in J.R.R. Tolkien's great trilogy. The Lord of the Rings begins when Frodo discovers that the ring Bilbo gave him is the key to the overthrow of Sauron, the great adversary of the world's order; it ends not with the destruction of Sauron, but with the complete reestablishment of the new order-which includes the departure of Frodo and all other magical people from Middle-earth.

Notice that Tolkien does not begin with a prologue recounting all the history of Middle-earth up to the point where Gandalf tells Frodo what the ring is. He begins, instead, by establishing Frodo's domestic situation and then thrusting world events on him, explaining no more of the world than Frodo needs to know right at the beginning. We learn of the rest of the foregoing events bit by bit, only as the information is revealed to Frodo.

In other words, the viewpoint character, not the narrator, is our guide into the world situation. We start with the small part of the world that he knows and understands and see only as much of the disorder of the universe as he can. It takes many days-and many pages-before Frodo stands before the council of Elrond, the whole situation having been explained to him, and says, "I will take the ring, though I do not know the way." By the time a lengthy explanation is given, we have already seen much of the disorder of the universe for ourselves-the Black Riders, the hoodlums in Bree, the barrow wights-and have met the true king, Aragorn, in his disguise as Strider. In other words, by the time we are given the full explanation of the world, we already care about the people involved in saving it.

Too many writers of event stories, especially epic fantasies, don't learn this lesson from Tolkien. Instead, they imagine that their poor reader won't be able to understand what's going on if they don't begin with a prologue showing the "world situation." Alas, these prologues always fail. Because we aren't emotionally involved with any characters, because we don't yet care, the prologues are meaningless. They are also usually confusing, as a half-dozen names are thrown at us all at once. I have learned as a book reviewer that it's usually best to skip the prologue and begin with the story-as the author also should have done. I have never-not once-found that by skipping the prologue I missed some information I needed to have in order to read the story; and when I have read the prologue first, I have never-not once-found it interesting, helpful or even understandable.

In other words, writers of event stories, don't write prologues. Homer didn't need to summarize the whole Trojan War for us; he began the Iliad with the particular, the private wrath of Achilles. Learn from Homer-and Tolkien, and all the other writers who have handled the event story well. Begin small, and only gradually expand our vision to include the whole world. If you don't let us know and care about the hero first, we won't be around for the saving of the world. There's plenty of time for us to learn the big picture.

Need help piecing together a Sci-Fi/Fantasy novel that publishers will buy? Consider:
How To Write Science Fiction & Fantasy

Become a WD VIP and Save 10%:
Get a 1-year pass to WritersMarket.com, a 1-year subscription to Writer's Digest magazine and 10% off all WritersDigestShop.com orders! Click here to join.

Also check out these items from the Writer's Digest's collection: (How to Write Your Book in 30 Days)Grammar Sucks: What to Do to Make Your Writing Much More Better Formatting & Submitting Your Manuscript
Elements Of Writing Fiction: Beginnings, Middles & Ends
Elements Of Writing Fiction: Scene & Structure
Elements Of Writing Fiction: Conflict, Action & Suspense
Elements Of Writing Fiction: Description
Elements Of Writing Fiction: Characters & Viewpoint
How to Land a Literary Agent (On-Demand Webinar)
No More Rejections
Writer's Digest Weekly Planner
Writer's Digest Magazine One-Year Subscription
Writer's Digest 10 Years of Writer's Digest on CD: 2000-2009

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
The 4 Story Structures that Dominate Novels | Writer's Digest

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
All stories contain four elements that can determine structure: milieu, idea, character and event. While each is present in every story, there is generally one that dominates the others. Which one dominates? The one that the author cares about most. This is why the process of discovering the structure of a story is usually a process of self-discovery.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Knowing how to create a story structure is one of the most important parts of knowing how to write a novel. Whether you're writing a book of 100,000 words or a short story with only 5000, it has to have a good structure.

There are different types of story structures, with some being more effective and successful than others.

There are also certain story structures that will work within certain genres and some that won't. Perfecting the craft of structure is something that shouldn't be ignored by any aspiring writer.

Practice makes perfect and there are always things you can improve on when learning how to create a story structure.

How to Create a Story Structure: What is it?

Before attempting to learn how to create a story structure, you should become familiar with what exactly it is. The structure of a story is like a framework of what happens.

Story structure is what allows the reader to make sense of the series of event you've presented them with.

The structure doesn't dictate specific details, only the basis of the events. A good way to learn about it is to look at the most basic structure for a typical drama. This structure consists of five parts:

Exposition. This is the beginning of the story where important characters, settings, and background are revealed.

Rising Action. This is a series of events that will build towards a final point.

Climax. This is the turning point of the story. This is where things often change dramatically - a point of no return, if you will.

Falling Action. This is where things between protagonist and antagonist unravel. The protagonist will either win or lose, and a final moment of suspense and doubt are often created.

Denoument or Conclusion. This is where all the events of the falling action conclude and we see the end of the conflict. Tensions are released and everything is normal again.

So, as you can see, these five points depict a complete story without giving a single detail. Any event, point, or theme can be inserted into each of these sections of the story, as long as they follow the proper pattern.

This five-point structure has been taught and accepted as an effective story structure for a long time, but it is not the only way to structure a story. Many have played with the elements and discovered several other ways of telling a great story.

Story Structure vs Outline - Don't Get Confused

It is important to note that a structure should not be confused with the outline. They may seem similar but they are, in fact, quite different. When learning how to write a novel, it's important to understand both.

The difference is not difficult to know once you are familiar with both elements.

A story structure dictates the baseline events. For example, your story structure includes a rise then fall. That's it, rise and fall is the structure.

A story outline decides the specifics of the structure. For example, a man gains power and rules over an entire kingdom (rise). Soon after, he is thwarted by an enemy and the throne is stolen (fall).

How to Create a Story Structure That Works

Once you have a good handle on the basics of story structure, you can start changing it up to create something that works. Even though a particular story structure may be effective, that doesn't automatically mean it's the absolute best choice for every single story.

Take some time and explore the different methods of structuring a story, and decide what is best for yours.

Use a Template to Help You

As I mentioned above, different story structures work in different situations and there are no specific details included. But, once you've nailed down your idea and started brainstorming, you can start applying the structure to a pre-made template:

These templates are, at their core, based on story structure. What they add are a few details. They offer some guidelines for each section of the story to make sure you keep it on track and don't leave anything out.

Types of Story Structure

There are four main elements that are always present in every story - the milieu (the world itself), the character, the event, and the idea. Knowing how to write a novel means being familiar with each type of structure.

A good story will have all of these, but there is usually one that is dominant. This will be the element that the author cares most about - the piece of the puzzle that the story focuses on.

The Milieu Story

The milieu is just the world that the story takes place in. It will comprise of the planet itself all the way down to small details like the weather and the people.

In a milieu story, the world becomes a character of its own. We have a protagonist, of course, but they are not the focus. The writer is less concerned with you liking the main character, than they are with you being consumed by the world they've created.

Stories like these don't focus on the character's childhood, their memories, or any of their backstory. The story only cares about the time the character spends in your world.

Every milieu story follows the same basic structure: the story begins when the character finds or enters the world, and it ends when they leave.

Gulliver's Travels is an example of a milieu story. The writer doesn't really care what you think of Gulliver himself. The point of the story is for the reader to experience the many places Gulliver traveled to and compare them to their own society.

In The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, Oz is the real main character. Dorothy is the one with whom we travel through it. The "quest" of the story is over when Dorothy kills the wicked witch, but the story itself doesn't end until Dorothy has left Oz.

The Idea Story

This type of structure is very simple - it is about looking for and finding new information through the character or characters who are driven to make the discoveries. These stories always begin by asking a question. They end when the question has been answered.

This is a common structure for mysteries or thrillers, with the question usually being some combination of who, what, why, and how? The story is over when all the questions are answered and the identify of the criminal is finally revealed.

You can add a twist to this structure by playing with dramatic irony. The identity is unknown to the other characters, but perhaps let your readers in on who did it before the big reveal.

The Character Story

While every story needs a main character, not every story is about who this main character is as a person. Their entire history, the series of events that made them who they are, the minute details of their personality.

In a character story, these things are all important and explored deeply.

The plot of these stories focuses less on what the character physically does, and more on how events and actions affect them as a person. The story as a whole will follow the character through a personal transformation in both personal character and their role in society.

The structure here is simple - the story begins at the moment the character becomes unhappy in their present state or situation. They begin the process of change and the story ends when they either settle into a new role and accept changes, or they give up their struggle and go back to how things were.

A perfect and well-known example of this is The Hunger Games. The trilogy follows Katniss as she works to change and renew the world around her. In the process, she undergoes a huge growth and transformation herself.

The Hunger Games ends when Katniss has been successful in overcoming the capitol. The very last thing we see is her and her family several years down the road, enjoying life in the peaceful new world they fought for.

The Event Story

In an event story, something is wrong with the world. A previous golden age has been destroyed and the world is in chaos. Of course, something must be done, and the story follows a cast of characters that are working to restore order.

The event story will end when the darkness is conquered and the world is as it should be once again. Or, in some cases, the story will end when the world descends fully into irreversible chaos and all forces of good and order are destroyed forever.

One might think that these stories begin when the trouble in the world first occurs, but this is not the case. An event story will begin when the character whose actions will be essential to the resolution first appears.

A large amount of fantasy and sci-fi stories follow the event story structure, The Lord of the Rings being a classic example.

The story begins when Frodo discovers that the ring is the key to overthrowing Sauron. The story is not over when Sauron is destroyed, but when order has been restored.

Types of Narrative Structure

Regardless of the type of structure your story follows, there will always be characters, conflicts, and series of events.

It is how the writer chooses to bring it all together and show them to the reader that defines the narrative structure. The narrative structure mostly deals with how the author handles time in their story.

The Linear Structure

This is the most common way to tell a story. This is a story that is simply told in chronological order with no deviations or variations.

Events unfold before the reader's eyes in the same order that they happened. The rising action takes place, conflict ensues, and eventually, things resolve. Beginning to end, that's your story.

Flashbacks

Some stories do not only take place in the present time. Many authors use flashbacks to give the reader additional information, background, or context.

The flashbacks may happen often throughout the story, or there might just be one or two big ones. Either way, the author is taking you back in time within the world of their story, so the narrative becomes nonlinear.

Parallels

This structure sometimes uses a narrator to help portray deeper levels of meaning. A parallel structure is when two different stories are happening simultaneously.

They are both related and unrelated to each other in different ways. A simple example is two characters - probable strangers in the beginning - are taking a long journey together.

Their physical destination is the same, but their reasons for traveling are distinctly different and not intertwined.

Frames

Also sometimes narrated by an outside voice, a frame structure is when many smaller stories are taking place within the framework of a larger one.

An example of this is "The Canterbury Tales" which is a series of short stories that all relate to the bigger picture. The big plot follows a large group of pilgrims, but their individual stories are told separately.

How to Create a Story Structure with the Most Popular Arcs

In theory, a story structure can be any set of points and events that an author wants. But, there is a certain set of story arcs that are widely used these days, and this is because they are proven to work.

Some are more popular than others, but they all have their benefits and uses within literature:

Rags to Riches - A Complete Rise

This is the telling of a classic underdog story and is probably the most popular arc as people love to see the characters rise up and have a happy ending.

The concept is simple: by the end of the story, your protagonist is in a much better place than they were at the beginning.

Riches to Rags - A Complete Fall

Basically the exact opposite of rags to riches. This is the story of someone who is wildly successful, wealthy, or famous, who loses everything.

The story ends with them having nothing - they don't gain anything back. It is a popular arc for a dark, sad, or tragic story.

Man in a Hole - Fall Then Rise

Here, something horrible will happen to the protagonist early on in the story. The bulk of the story will be about them working through these challenges and trying to overcome the problem.

In the end, they do find a solution and ultimately come out on top.

Icarus - Rise Then Fall

This structure is named for the main character in a myth that depicts this category perfectly.

This story will have your protagonist rising up and gaining power, popularity, wealth, etc. The story will then have them fall back down again.

The story typically ends with them being even worse off than they were before.

Cinderella - Rise, Fall, Rise

This is the structure for the ever-popular "boy meets girl" theme in a lot of drama and romantic comedy.

The story will follow the protagonist as they find something great, only to lose it. The loss is only temporary though, and in the end, they get the great thing back, perhaps even better than before it was lost.

Oedipus - Fall, Rise, Fall

This structure is less common, but still used in some cases.

It is when the protagonist is met with a horrible situation that will ultimately mark their fate. But, somewhere in between, they find some temporary relief or a false ray of hope.

The victory is short-lived as they ultimately fall back into tragedy once again, which is where the story will end.

Don't Feel Confined by Story Structure

Once you start learning about story structure, you might end up feeling confined to it or stuck in some way.

Don't feel like you need to follow a strict, rigid plan or else your story is doomed to failure. This is not the case!

Story structures exist because they are proven effective, but that doesn't mean there isn't wiggle room. Feel free to play around with the structure, rearrange your plot points, and find a flow that works for you.

Often times, the basic structure comes naturally once you decide what the story is inherently about.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Story Structure: Create One That Works [With Examples]

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Knowing how to create a story structure is one of the most important parts of knowing how to write a novel. Whether you're writing a book of 100,000 words or a short story with only 5000, it has to have a good structure.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Poem Structure - Lines and Stanzas

This page is an introduction to poem structure and poetry techniques. What's the best way to divide your poetry into lines? (Hint: "at random" is not the right answer!) Learn more below.

This is just one of many pages on this website about how to write poetry. At the bottom of the page, you'll find links to related poetry topics.

Poem structure - the line as a building block

The basic building-block of prose (writing that isn't poetry) is the sentence. But poetry has something else -- the poetic line. Poets decide how long each line is going to be and where it will break off. That's why poetry often has a shape like this:

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.

That's the beginning of a poem by Robert Herrick. No matter where it is printed, the first line always ends with the word "may" and the second line with the word "a-flying" because the poet has written it this way. If you print a piece of prose such as a short story, the length of the lines will depend on the font size, the paper size, margins, etc. But in poetry, the line is part of the work of art you have created. The length of the lines and the line breaks are important choices that will affect many aspects of the reader's experience:

The sound of the poem - When people read your poem out loud, or in their heads, they will pause slightly at the end of each line.

The speed of reading - Shortening or lengthening the lines can speed up or slow down the way people read.

How the poem looks on the page - Does the poem look light, delicate, with a lot of white space around the lines? Or are the lines packed solidly together?

Emphasis - Words at the end of a line seem more important than words in the middle.

Advertisement:

Poem structure - types of lines

If you are writing a poem in a standard form such as a sonnet, your choices about line length are somewhat restricted by the rules of the form. But you still have to decide how to fit the ideas and sentences of your poem over the lines. When you fit natural stopping points in a sentence to the end of your line, the reader takes a little pause. When a sentence or phrase continues from one line to the next, the reader feels pulled along. If your line break interrupts a sentence or idea in a surprising place, the effect can be startling, suspenseful, or can highlight a certain phrase or double meaning.

Lines that finish at ends of sentences or at natural stopping points (for example, at a comma) are called end-stopped lines. Here's an example:

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:

Lines that finish in the middle of the natural flow of a sentence are called run-on or enjambed lines. Here's an example:

But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.

Here, Herrick interrupts the phrase "worst times" with a line break between "worst" and "times," focusing extra attention on the word "worst."

If you are writing in free verse, you have even more decisions to make than a poet writing in a traditional form. You can decide to use short lines or long lines, or to vary the length. You can decide to stack your lines evenly along the left margin, or to use a looser or more graphical form. Some poets even write poems that are in the shape of the thing they are writing about, for example, a circular poem about the moon. You have many options, but these choices should never be made randomly.

Poem structure - stanzas

In prose, ideas are usually grouped together in paragraphs. In poems, lines are often grouped together into what are called stanzas. Like paragraphs, stanzas are often used to organize ideas.

For example, here are the two final stanzas of the Robert Herrick's poem. In the first of these stanzas, he is explaining that being young is great, but life just gets worse and worse as you get older. In the second one, he is saying: "So get married before you're too old and have lost your chance."

That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.
Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry:
For having lost but once your prime,
You may for ever tarry.

For a more detailed explanation of poem structure, I recommend the book Writing Poems by Boisseau, Wallace, and Mann. (This page makes use of some ideas from the book's third edition, by Robert Wallace, HarperCollins 1991.)

Our online course, Essentials of Poetry Writing, will show you essential techniques for writing both free verse and traditional forms.

Poem structure - decisions about form

So many decisions to make -- line length, line breaks, arrangement, speed, rhythm. How should you choose? The right form for your poem depends on, and works with, the poem's content, or what it's about. If the poem is about flying, you probably don't want lines that feel slow and heavy. If you're writing a sad poem, short bouncy lines might not be the way to go.

You may feel overwhelmed by so many issues to think about. How can your inspiration flow freely if you have to keep track of all of these aspects of a poem? The answer is to do the work in two stages.

1. First, let your ideas flow.

2. Then, go back to the poem later and work on improving the poem structure and form.

In the second stage, it's a good idea to experiment a lot. Try breaking the lines in different ways and compare the effects. Try changing the order of things. Try reorganizing things to move different words to the end of the lines so that the reader's attention goes to them. You've got nothing to lose -- you can always go back to an earlier version.
As you go through this process, ask yourself:

What is my poem about?

What feeling or mood do I want the reader to have?

Do I want the poem to move quickly or slowly? Are there places I want it to speed up or slow down?

What words or phrases do I want to highlight?

There are a lot of things to consider. But the more poetry you write -- and read -- the more natural and instinctive some of these decisions about poem structure will become to you.
Find out about our online course, Essentials of Poetry Writing.

Poem structure - next steps

What would you like to do now? Choose a link below.

<< BACK from Poem Structure to Creative Writing Now Home

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
This page is an introduction to poem structure and poetry techniques. What's the best way to divide your poetry into lines? (Hint: "at random" is not the right answer!) Learn more below. This is just one of many pages on this website about how to write poetry.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
All writing has a specific structure. A text message, for example, is concise and may contain slang, an email often follows the same format as a conventional letter, and an essay is written in paragraphs. These structures contribute to the overall message or meaning of the writing.

Poetry is no different.

Poems are a collection of literary work that is written in stanzas and lines that make use of rhythm in order to emphasize or express emotions and ideas. Those who write poetry pay careful attention to elements like sentence length, word placement and even how lines are grouped together. This is what is known as 'form'. Lines or entire stanzas can be arranged in a way that creates or evokes a specific emotion in the reader.

One example of this is a sonnet. Sonnets are 14-line poems that adhere to a specific rhyme scheme. The key to a great sonnet is that it must end with a pair of lines that are set apart from the rest. Differentiating those two lines provides emphasis - giving their message much importance than the rest of the poem.

Another important element of poetic structure is the 'rhythm', or the beat that the poem follows. This will typically be measured in meters (sets of syllables that are stressed and unstressed) that the reader will sing a long with. Consider the rhythmic effect of music and the words. What emotions does the singer display? The notes and the meter may be fast at first, but they may slow down later on. This rhythm effects the message as a whole.

Lastly, a person writing poetry might decide to use figurative language techniques to create a specific effect. Rhythm scheme is one of those methods - it uses a pattern of repeating final sounds in the last word of each sentence. Developing patterns of rhyming will also affect the poems rhythm. Whole rhyming lines might be repeated throughout the poem in order to bring emphasis to the message the writer is delivering.

Need paper on poetry analysis? Choose one of the services to get it done:

Examples of Poetry Structure

Think of a song, for example. Songs typically have a chorus, or a few lines of refrain that are repeated several times over. These are typically the lines that most people have the best recollection of. The writer knew that by manipulating the repetition and rhyme they would be able to have their audience reciting their work over and over. Repetition and rhyme are powerful tools.

Here is an example of rhyme in poetry.

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud by William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed-and gazed-but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

Different Types of Poetic Structures

As alluded to earlier, rhythm is what gives poetry its 'sound.' There are multiple ways in which rhythm might be used - and even more elements of poetry that can be attributed to rhythm.

Stress or Accent: Each line of a poems contains syllables. Whenever emphasis is placed on a specific syllable, it is referred to as a stressed syllable. Stress refers to the emphasis that is given to that syllable.

For example, 'candle' has two syllables: can-dle

The first syllable ("can") is the stressed syllable - therefore it is pronounced using more emphasis than the second syllable ("dle"), which is referred to as the unstressed syllable.

Foot: A foot is the term used to describe a combination of both stressed and unstressed syllables in a single line of a poem. There are several possible combinations, however, some are more popular than the rest.

Iamb: a foot with two syllables, one that is unstressed and one that is stressed, in that specific order.
Trochee: a foot with two syllables, one that is stressed and one that is unstressed, in that specific order.
Spondee: a foot with two syllables, both are stressed.
Anapest: A foot with three syllables, two that are stressed and one that is unstressed, in that order.
Dactyl: a foot with three syllables, one that is stressed and two that are unstressed.

Meter: The term meter refers to the number of feet that are in a line of a poem. There can be any number of feet in a line of poetry, and there can even be more than one type of foot. Some meters are used more frequently than others.

Monometer: a line with 1 foot

Dimeter: A line with 2 feet

Trimeter: A line with 3 feet

Tetrameter: A line with 4 feet Pentameter: A line with 5 feet Hexameter: A line with 6 feet Heptameter: A line with 7 feet Octameter: a line with 8 feet

If a line of a poem has five feet, and each of those feet are iambs, the line of the poem is referred to as being an iambic pentameter. This is the most frequently seen metric pattern in poetry.

Scansion: When you can through a poem, you are scanning for the poem's metrical pattern. By looking over the poem, you are essentially searching for patterns of stressed and unstressed syllables in hopes of determining what type of feet are being used. From here, you should be able to determine that meter of the poem - Whether it be an iambic pentameter, trochaic hexameter or anapestic trimester.

What is form in poetry?

There are multiple ways to write a poem and there are several different forms that could be used. There are times when the form of the poem might be determined by the meter, but there are also times where it might be determined by the content or the organization of the poem itself.

Stanza: A group of lines in a poem, similar to a paragraph.
Quatrain: A stanza with four lines.
Couplet: A stanza with two lines.
Ballad: Poetry that tells a story similar to a folktale, often includes quatrains and lines that are iambic trimeter.
Elegy: Poetry that is sad and emotional, often written about death.
Epic: A narrative poem.
Lyric: Poetry used to express emotions.
Narrative: A poem that tells a story.
Sonnet: A sonnet typically has 14 lines. However, there are multiple variations of sonnets.

Petrarchan sonnet (or Italian sonnet): Each of its 14 lines will be written in iambic pentameter. There will be an octave (a group of 8 lines) at the beginning, and a sestet (a group of 6 lines) at the end.

Shakespearean sonnet (or English sonnet) Each of its 14 lines will be written in iambic pentameter. There will be three quatrains, and will end with a couplet. The rhyme scheme will be A-B-A-B, C-D-C-D, E-F-E-F,G,G

Structure of Poetry and Its Elements

The Line: A line in a poem is not the same as a sentence. Just because the words are placed in a single line, does not mean that the thought is complete.

As you read through a poem, and you come to the end of a line where there is no punctuation after the last word, there is no need to pause - navigate to the start of the next line and continue reading.

For example, in the poem Annabel Lee by Edgar Allen Poe, you would not come to a complete stop after the end of the first line, but instead you would keep reading until you reached the punctuated end of the paragraph.

It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

Than to love and be loved by me.

In this kingdom by the sea,

But we loved with a love that was more than love-

I and my Annabel Lee-

With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven

Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,

In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

My beautiful Annabel Lee;

So that her highborn kinsmen came

And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,

Went envying her and me-

Yes!-that was the reason (as all men know,

In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we-

Of many far wiser than we-

And neither the angels in Heaven above

Nor the demons down under the sea

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling-my darling-my life and my bride,

In her sepulchre there by the sea-

In her tomb by the sounding sea.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Poetry Structure - Its Definition, Kinds and Usage - A Research Guide

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
All writing has a specific structure. A text message, for example, is concise and may contain slang, an email often follows the same format as a conventional letter, and an essay is written in paragraphs. These structures contribute to the overall message or meaning of the writing. Poetry is no different.