The Six Elements of Fiction
If you want to write a novel or short story, you need these six things.
I often think about a passage in Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time. In it, the main character, Meg, is being given a lesson about life and poetry. Meg is reminded that a sonnet has a very strict structure, but the poet can write anything within that structure.
“Life, with its rules, its obligations, and its freedoms, is like a sonnet: You’re given the form, but you have to write the sonnet yourself.”
— Madeleine L’Engle, A Wrinkle in Time
This particular passage has stuck with me since I first read the book as a kid, crouched under the stairs of the local public library, where I found all my favorite stories. There are all kinds of boxes in life, but how we fill the box is up to us.
Eventually, I became a writer myself, following (distantly) in L’Engle’s inspiring footsteps. In analyzing the way prose fits into a narrative structure, I realized that novel writing is often like the sonnet L’Engle spoke of — there is a form to it, but you can write anything within that structure.
While a sonnet may have a specific meter and fourteen lines, the box to which a novel fits is both broader and simpler: there are six elements of any novel, and you have free reign to expand or shrink this hexagonal box in any way you need.
The Basics of Story
All stories, by definition, start with three simple things — people (or other sentient beings) doing things in a place. In other words, you need to have a plot, characters, and a world.
Plot
Plot is, at its heart, simply the choices the characters make and consequences those choices. But a good plot will combine that with strong story structure that keeps the pace tight — and the reader turning pages.
The genre of the book will have certain tropes that a reader will expect to be hit. For example, a mystery should have a problem to solve, clues to find, and a sleuth to discover them, as well as a few red herrings tossed into the mix. A romance should have a build-up of attraction followed by a happily ever after.
But a story that doesn’t have any structure at all will often feel like a slog to the reader. Some books intentionally play with structure or incorporate stream-of-consciousness style writing (Faulkner, I’m looking at you). The difference, though, lies in the idea of intentional, crafted deconstruction, and a mess of a plot that happens when the author just sort of throws together a mismatched series of events, checking them off like a laundry list rather than crafting a consequential sequence of events.
Classic structure — such as the hero’s journey — is just as valid as experimental structures of novel writing, but much like a castle is just as valid as a cottage, both require a strong foundation to be inhabitable.
Character
Good characters will carry a bad plot — if we, the reader, care about the characters, we will follow them anywhere.
But what makes a good character?
First, the character must be intelligent. If the reader is screaming at the character to do something or say something — especially if that would solve all the problems of the plot — the character has failed.
Second, the character must be active. No one wants to read about a passive character who sits back and lets things happen. Readers want the character to stand up and act. They must make choices that have consequences and deal with the fall out.
And lastly, the character must be empathetic. That doesn’t mean the character needs to be likable. But I need to know why the character does what they do, and I need to think they have a reasonable motivation for those actions.
Here’s the difference: a skilled writer can make me interested in any character, no matter what they do. An unskilled writer, however, will make me simply apathetic.
World
The world of the story can sometimes seem grand, such as in an epic fantasy or historical, or small, like a rural community. But whether your story takes place on a spaceship or in a suburb, it needs to feel real.
This goes far beyond simply describing set pieces. A good writer will use all senses — sound, taste, smell, feel.
World details also include the rules of the world. In a historical, this may mean cultural norms and restriction. In a fantasy, this could be the limitations of magic. In a contemporary, this could be the neighborhood’s attitude about outsiders. Either way, the rules should be believable and consistent.
But a world should also have a history. Because authors are writing a story new to them, something that they’re inventing as it happens, typically they will describe everything as if it’s new. A real world, though, exists outside the story. There will be dirt, debris, scratches on the wall, characters in the background independent of the story, weather, politics, a culture. A world should have layers and secrets — many of which will always be unanswered.
The Advanced Elements
Beyond the basics, there are three advanced elements that stories naturally have — or, at least, the good ones do.
Prose
There is an art to writing. It’s easy to recognize this in poetry, such as L’Engle’s sonnet, where the poet carefully considers each word and how its placement will add to the art of the overall work.
But even in prose, there should be an artistic level of craft. At its very basic level, merely using punctuation and paragraph breaks influences the visual appeal of prose — although authors like Cormac McCarthy and Ernest Hemingway take that to another level.
Experiment with white space in your novel — adding in extra breaks, shorter paragraphs, snappier dialogue. Think of the way you create analogies and metaphors.
The words you chose are your art.
Depth
Having a work that has depth does not mean it must be allegorical, preachy, political, or ham-fisted. If a novel can have the reader simply pause to think, to consider new questions in new lights, it has depth.
“A good book will give you answers to questions you didn’t know you had. A great book will give you questions to answers you thought you knew.”
― Beth Revis, Give the Dark My Love
The depth of a story could be life-altering. I’ve certainly read books that have repositioned my path, setting me on a new course. Stories have shaped my relationships, my career, my life.
But I’ve also read light, simple stories that didn’t shatter my world or rock my foundation — but they did remind me that love is real, or kindness is worthwhile, or family should be cherished. Stories don’t have to be deep to have depth — one just has to resonate with the reader.
A story should do more than contribute to the noise.
Immersion
I debated for a long time what to label this third and last element of a story. “Entertainment” felt cheap — some books are heavy tomes that touch on dark subjects. Elie Wiesel’s Night is not entertaining, nor is it an escape, another word I considered for this label.
But it is immersive.
A good book certainly can be an entertaining escape — and I would argue that most are. That’s why I am so vociferously against people who whole-handedly dismiss genres, such as YA or romance. When I had to sit beside a family member in the hospital, I did not reach for a weighty classic; I wanted to read a story where I knew I’d get a happily ever after. I needed that escape.
But that entertaining escape comes from an immersive reading experience, and that’s something the darker books that are still beautiful works of art also provide. When a book is well written, the reader will forget they’re reading. They live the story. That is the hardest element to create, the most magic, but also the most worthwhile.
Much like the sonnet L’Engle described — and like life itself — a good story will contain certain elements. Plot, world, and character are a given, the standard elements any author will recognize. But prose, depth, and immersion take a novel to the next level, creating not just a book, but a good book.
And, while Meg may have initially felt that a sonnet was too restrictive in A Wrinkle in Time, don’t look at the strictures as limitations. There may be six sides to the box, but you can fill that box with any story you like.
The possibilities are endless.
