Snowflake to Snowball of impending doom. Today we’re going to be talk about another way to outline in our Outline 101 series – the snowflake method! I think this is one of the most discussed methods amongst writers I’ve met, and maybe you’ve heard of it, too.
So, how is it typically done? (Other people may interpret snowflake method differently, and that’s totally fine.)
Welcome to Outlining 101, where we learn how to outline for those of you looking to plan for the first time, or are interested in new methods of planning. Today, we’re going to be focusing on one of the many ways to outline – the 9 Box Method.
You may be asking yourself, “9 Boxes? What am I packing away for my MC? Are we donating? Moving?” Unfortunately, no. Although, you should really clean out that closet you’ve been shoving all your miscellaneous into for the last 15 years.
The intention of the 9 box is main storyline, so that is going to be what we’re talking about here. If you’re struggling with your main plot? Let’s start here.
So a bit of a disclaimer as we start off – you can use 9 box however you need to. Be it for character arcs, main storyline, subplot, whatever. There is also no right way to outline, only the right way for you to plan (if you are a planner). Also, the image of the 9 box below is not mine, and the source is linked at the bottom of this post. This is meant for resource only, and to help you better understand and explain this method in depth from my understanding and interpretation.
My current WIP is imagined as the first of two or three. It’s not my fault: I tried to keep it as a single story, but I took some long walks and the sequel happened. Should I be so lucky, a contract someday will decide that sequel gets to exist—but I’m getting ahead of myself.
What I want to talk about today is writing that Book One, and perhaps the most important lesson I’ve learned while working on it (and one Amber regularly helps remind me of):
Don’t leave the cool stuff for the sequel.
When you start thinking about sequels while writing book one, chances are it’ll start with a few cool scenes and concepts, maybe a part of a character arc or a really great dialogue. Those starting points will evolve into more, things will build from each other—and then you’ll mention it to a buddy or a reader or a CP, and they’ll go “if it’s so cool, why not put it in this story?”
And they’ll be right.
And you’ll go “it can’t happen yet! It’s a sequel thing!”
And, very likely, you’ll be wrong.
Some things, of course, can’t happen in book one no matter how much you try: they might require the character to be much older, or they might be a broader-scope thing that would take away from the core story of the book. Those are valid reasons for keeping things on hold.
However, it’s a very easy trap to fall into, and one that can really harm your current story.
To use my own example, beyond doubt THE BEST decision I made about this WIP was to take the planned endings of book three and make them endings of book one. It required some tweaks, of course. It meant that book two would have the characters very different to how I originally imagined them. It meant a lot of the half-baked plot stuff I mused about for the sequels couldn’t happen the same way.
But it made THIS BOOK so much stronger. It helped the arcs, the pacing, the plot and subplots, the structure, the core story, everything. It required changes to this story as well, of course—there’s a reason why I hadn’t thought of it from the start, after all, and I had to approach it with quite an open mind and hack away at quite a few darlings to make room for better things.
So it bears repeating: don’t leave the cool stuff for the sequel. If you think of something and ask yourself (or someone else asks you) why it can’t be used to make your current story stronger, and your answer is just “because it’s a sequel thing”, that’s not reason enough. Use it. Try it. Really think about it, and ask yourself “what if?” a lot.
You might find a reason or two why it really can’t happen yet—changing the core focus of the story is a big one I’d look out for—but you’re very likely doing your book a huge favour.
And don’t worry: you’ll come up with new cool stuff for the sequel once you get there. You can trust me on that one.
I’ve been working on the second(ish) draft/rewrite of my main WIP for a while now, and if I may say so myself I’m pretty happy with the result so far—and I owe a lot of it to one simple-yet-obvious rule I set for myself:
Have the POV character make a choice in every scene.
Yep—it’s me talking about choices again. My characters are the ones driving the story, and their choices shape both their personal and plot arcs.
What do I mean by that rule? Surely, not every scene will offer an either/or, right?
Absolutely. The Choice is about much more than simply opting for one thing over another. It can be small; it can be subtle; it can be about a word or lack thereof; it can even be a decision not to act. What’s important is that it cuts one or more other options, either by directly opposing it or by the way of consequences that no longer allow for a step back. As the story goes on, shaped by these little choices, the consequences will grow more dire and the choices themselves will get harder, until the character is faced with the Big Choice that marks the point of no return for their arc.
The rule helps the story in a couple of big ways:
Agency is about the character driving the plot, rather than getting dragged along by it. It’s largely what makes characters active, and makes them interesting to read about. Their choices will be moving them towards their goal, meeting and clashing with other characters’ choices in the process, and the consequences both intended and unintended will shape their internal arcs.
When it comes to pacing, scene structure matters a lot. Ensuring a choice in each scene makes it easier to focus the scene, which is why I’ve taken to using this method during first drafts as well: even if discovery drafting, like with my current side project, keeping sight of the core choice of a scene keeps me from wandering aimlessly and ending up with lots of words I’d eventually need to cut.
Of course, as with everything, there are exceptions to the rule. There will be short scenes that don’t require or can’t accommodate a choice; there will be scene clusters built around a single choice, where each will work towards it but only one will end up making it; there will be other exceptions. And despite the fact the rule says “every scene”, these exceptions are fine—as long as there’s a clear reason to why they work better as exceptions.
As we all know, query letters are a huge part of the publishing industry—and one I personally love critiquing and talking about. But, while I’m sure one of us will write about the querying process sooner or later, this post is about the role a query letter form can play during the writing process itself.
Personally, I’m a pantser with more ideas than I can probably tackle in my lifetime, even accounting for my dedication to finding immortality. This means I can’t function with an outline, but I also need a way to tell which ideas are ready to be tackled—because not every shining plot bunny that steals the stage is there for the big show, and I’m not a fan of starting a billion things only to realise I have no idea where I’m going by page three. There are times when I don’t want to know where I’m going, and discovery drafts are thing, but that’s a topic for another day. In general, while I agree your first draft will be the worst one, I stand firmly on the hill of Making Your First Drafts The Best They Can Be—and that, for me, means knowing the idea is strong enough before I throw myself head-first into it.
That’s where the super imaginatively titled idea-queries come in.
A good query letter will include four big things: a character, a goal, a conflict, and stakes. With a bit of world sprinkled on top, especially if you’re writing SFF, to inform the other elements. Of course, query letters you’d send to agents need other things as well—like a killer hook, relevant housekeeping section, and a reasonable wordcount—but the four big ones are what we’re looking at here.
So, character, goal, conflict, and stakes. (ChaGoCoS? I’ll work on that.)
Character: this means more than a name or a role. This means a person. A person with a personality, a core lie, strengths and weaknesses, a ghost from their past, and wants and needs. This person will grow over the course of the story, but (if you’re a character-focused writer like yours truly) they’ll probably inform the other elements.
Goal: this is what your character wants, and I usually want two of them in my idea-queries: one that shows who the character is at the beginning (usually in my first paragraph/sentence), and one that forms the core of the story (usually the main focus of the query).
Conflict: this is what stands in the character’s way, both external and internal. Depending on the story, one or the other may get more space in the query itself. That’s fine.
Stakes: along with Character, they’re my favourite part. What happens if the goal is met; what happens if it isn’t. What the character is risking pursuing their goal, and what they stand to lose.
Once I have those four things, I know I have an idea strong enough and ready enough to be written. If I also have some scene ideas taking shape out of context while I’m trying to sleep or shower or hold a conversation with a living person, I know I have a winner on my hands. Note that I don’t, at this point, know where the story’s going, any subplots or most of the side characters, the ending, or even much about the character’s arc. Ultimately, this is my method of telling if the story has a strong enough foundation to build upon—and the rest is pantsing along as instructed by my characters.
I write these idea-queries at several stages, and often times more than one at a time.
If you’re like me, the four big elements from above won’t change too much: in my case, they all draw from the Character and their arc (and vice versa), and my core story stays the same throughout drafts no matter how many edits or rewrites I do. I expect this to be a huge help for writing the query to actually send out, since I already know what the most important pieces of my story puzzle are. But these will never be the queries I send out to agents, and they shouldn’t be. They’re good practice, they can help figure stuff out, but the details within will change by the time you’re done polishing your last draft, and that’s entirely okay. What these are for is figuring out the core elements of your story—the bones. Once you’re done-done with your novel and the story is beautiful and ready for the world, you’ll be the best equipped to choose which details to weave in to really hook Dear Agent and find your story a home it deserves.
I’m a big planner, to the point where my outlines end up as mini-drafts of my novel ready to be expanded with details and dialogue but otherwise some sort of structure that works.
Not everyone, however, outlines or should outline, for that matter. But if pantsing (writing your story without a lick of a plan beforehand) doesn’t work for you, maybe it’s time to give outlining a shot.
There are many, many outline methods that have popped up over the years, but we’ll be going through them in a series, to help you figure out what one (or ones) best work for you – or what ones you can derive your own method from. Continue reading “How to Outline | Outlining 101”
Dead Darlings Society 