1st Step in Writing a Novel—Choosing Your Point

Let’s face it. We all write because we have something to say—about the world, the human condition, life. Novels, in a nutshell, are an elaborate argumentation proving a certain, very particular point. As readers, most of us know this intuitively. We want to walk away from a book we just read with a new kind of understanding of the world around us, with a clear takeaway—THE POINT.

And remember the disappointment you felt when you read a book that had no palpable takeaway? I remember tossing one such book into the paper recycle bin. I would normally never throw a book away, but this one was such a huge disappointment I couldn’t stand seeing it on my shelf anymore.

Knowing the importance of the Point, it’s surprising to see how little it’s considered as a crucial step in writing a novel. Many writers will start writing a novel focusing on the plot, on characters, or even on setting and worldbuilding, without stopping to think what the readers’ takeaway from their book will be.

It’s only when finishing the first or second draft that the point becomes clear to them. But by that time, there are so many issues in the text—chapters not supporting the Point, unnecessary characters or plot threads—that tackling these issues feels overwhelming and even, in some cases, leads to shelving the entire project.

You can definitely write a book by honing the Point through finishing the draft first, and then reverse cycle to build it in your every chapter, scene, and sentence. But that’s a less efficient way. It might take you several painful revisions to get there—along with killing some darlings you might have grown attached to.

When you know your point from the get-go, all other things fall into place. You make ALL your choices to reflect that point—simply by:

1. choosing your plot points so that they challenge your protagonist to ultimately come to the conclusion—that is your Point;

2. choosing the starting point of your character arc so that it’s direct opposite to what it will be when the protagonist learns the Point.

3. treating the whole book as an argumentation for and against the Point. The best books prove their point by a thread— the more compelling your argument is, both for and against the Point, the more engaging the book will be for your reader.

So how do you go about choosing the point?

The answer to that question lies in your deeper-level why.

Why are you writing this book? What is so compelling about this exact project that you feel not only excited, but feverish with the need to get this story out of your heart and onto the page?

I’m not talking about the superficial reasons behind choosing a particular project. Take Lord of the Rings as an example. The incredible worldbuilding and Tolkien’s fascination with legends and folklore might be the surface-level why behind his eagerness to write the trilogy, but on a deeper level, it must have been his keen interest in the battle between good and evil that fascinated him enough to explore all sides of this issue through the extraordinary setting he created. I can only guess, of course, but knowing that the trilogy was written in the aftermath of WWI and during WWII, it’s not surprising that the battle between good and evil had been on his mind, and that the Point his book made was, ultimately—The evil can be overcome, but at a great personal cost.

Writers aren’t extrapolated from life—they’re immersed in it (and many times, feel it more keenly than an average person). So looking into your own biggest struggle at the moment, might be a good place to start looking for the Point of the book project that’s keeping you occupied.

When I started writing my own novel, I strongly disliked many aspects of my job as an attorney, but didn’t feel entitled to make a change. It was unthinkable—ditching a highly regarded and esteemed career that I had pursued for so long, and give up on a position of power that came with it. I mean, who does that, leave a career they worked for decades to position themselves in? Leaving it would equal failing, admitting you’re not cut out for it. That you can’t handle it.

So, when I started writing about my protagonist Rae, and when I created her own set of struggles in life that I thought had nothing to do with my own—I had no idea I was actually building an argument for myself; to stop what I was doing just because it was ‘default’ behavior, and start thinking how I really wanted to live my life. Throughout the writing process, as my protagonist battled her issues, I struggled along her side, proving and disproving the Point to myself. Toward the end, I realized that giving up on something you don’t like isn’t a sign of weakness, but of strength. It takes so much inner strength to dismiss the default behavior that makes sense to everyone else, and pursue your own happiness. That single point— and the sense of entitlement it created—allowed me to change my career, and my life around.

As a book coach, I see the same thing with a lot of my clients.

I see lawyers-turned-mothers, writing a book that makes a point that it’s okay to choose a slower-paced lifestyle;

I see insecure women, writing a book that makes a point that confidence is an internal thing, not something someone else bestows on you.

I see a woman married to the love of her life (who is dead afraid of losing that person), writing a book that makes the point that there’s life even after you lose the one.

Our brain can’t dissociate itself from the issues that pester us. It will, consciously or sub-consciously swim to the surface in whatever you do—especially an endeavor such as writing a novel. So maybe, you think you can write about a topic that doesn’t touch you emotionally, but I’ll bet you on a mug of hot chocolate on a sub-zero day that it will surface in your writing.

When Tolkien started writing The Lord of the Rings, he wanted to write a book about how Bilbo, once he spent all the treasures from his first adventure, went on another adventure to get more treasures. But the looming war that surrounded Tolkien must have weighed heavily on his mind because he ended up writing an epic story about good fighting evil—and the consequences a hard-won victory has on its fighters.

Willingly or not, our current struggles in life, big and small, creep up in our writing. They find a way of slipping in, whether we planned on them or not. So whatever plot you chose for your novel, chances are your current struggles in life will somehow affect the book’s trajectory.

So here are two things you can do to get a clear understanding of your Point.

STEP ONE: Stop and look straight in the eyes of the biggest current struggle in your life.

What issue are you facing that’s getting you most worked up emotionally? What is the one issue that, when mentioned, gets you talking until your mouth runs dry? It’s a good place to start looking for the point you want to be making.

• Is it your toxic relationship with your mother?

• Is it the way that people don’t seem to care about the environment and the future of our planet?

• Is it the fact that you feel like everyone knows more about parenting than you do?

STEP TWO: What do you want the end result of that internal struggle to be?

Now you know that one biggest issue pressing on you—what do you want your takeaway to be?

When writing my book, I wanted to create a way out for myself (on a very subconscious level, believe me). I wanted to feel entitled to do my own thing, even though I knew no one around me would understand it. As I built the same argumentation for my own protagonist, the argumentation started engraining in my brain.

At the beginning of writing my book, I couldn’t even imagine leaving a career I’ve worked so hard for. Giving up equalled failing, being weak. Being a quitter, a loser.

By the time I was done with my book, my perspective was changed. Leaving a career you don’t like isn’t quitting. Giving up on yourself and your happiness is.

But it could’ve ended differently. I could’ve proved to myself over the process of writing that novel, that it’s necessary to keep working in my career, because it’s, well—character building.

Or I could’ve been nihilistic about it, and make a point that sometimes a wrong decision will simply follow you for the rest of your life.

I could have made dozens of points, but I made the one I needed to hear, the one I, on some level, was aligned with.

I imagine this was what happened to Tolkien too. He wanted to end the trilogy with the good prevailing over evil. But in all honesty, he couldn’t pretend that winning that war didn’t take its toll on the ones who fought it. He could have shown Frodo back in Shire, happy as the rest of the hobbits. But knowing the scars the World Wars had left on its soldiers, 100% happy ending wasn’t Tolkien’s truth. He wasn’t aligned with it, and so he couldn’t get it onto the page.

To recap: every novel should be making a point. Knowing the point before you start writing the book can help you streamline all the other things in your book—the plot, the character arcs, the subplots, the mirroring characters, etc.

To choose your point, you might want to take a look at the things you struggle with emotionally in your own life. The issue that gets you worked up is usually a good place to look at—getting worked up means you are fighting yourself over an issue, even if it’s on a subconscious level.

When you’ve chosen your issue, think to the end result you want that issue to have. What kind of a resolution feels the truest, the most realistic? The most satisfying or most compelling? Use the answer to build a compelling and believable argumentation for your book.

Until next time… keep safe and keep writing!

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