The Art of Surrender: Following the Story Wherever It Takes You

 

The Art of Surrender: Following the Story Wherever It Takes You

By Olivia Salter

Fiction writing is often viewed as a controlled act of creation—outlining plots, crafting character arcs, and shaping conflicts with deliberate precision. But what if the most powerful stories emerge not from control, but from surrender? Mark David Gerson’s quote, “Follow the story wherever it takes you,” speaks to the heart of organic storytelling: the willingness to relinquish control and let the narrative evolve naturally.

The Fear of Letting Go

Many writers start with a vision—a neatly mapped-out structure that promises to guide them from beginning to end. Yet, rigid adherence to an outline can sometimes strangle a story before it breathes. Unexpected character decisions, shifting themes, and narrative surprises often arise mid-draft, challenging the writer’s initial plan. The instinct to force the story back onto its original path is strong, but doing so may stifle its potential.

Following the story means trusting your instincts. It means embracing the unexpected and allowing the characters to act as if they have lives beyond your control. If a subplot demands more space, let it grow. If a character refuses to fit into their prescribed role, listen. The best stories often come from moments when the writer steps aside and lets the story lead.

When the Story Rebels

Some of the most compelling fiction arises from moments when the story defies expectations. Perhaps you planned a straightforward romance, but a character’s unresolved trauma transforms it into a story of healing. Maybe your mystery novel starts unraveling the deeper psychological wounds of its detective, shifting its genre into literary fiction. These surprises aren’t roadblocks; they’re invitations to explore richer, more authentic narratives.

One of the best ways to practice this surrender is through freewriting. Sit down, let go of the plot, and allow the characters to speak. Even if it doesn’t make sense in the moment, follow the words. You may uncover a twist, a hidden motivation, or even an entirely new ending.

The Balance Between Structure and Intuition

This isn’t to say that structure has no place in storytelling. Outlines and planning serve as valuable guides, but they should never become cages. A skilled writer learns to balance structure with flexibility—building a framework but allowing the story to breathe within it. Think of it as jazz improvisation: a musician may have a melody in mind, but the magic happens in the spontaneous notes played in between.

If you find yourself struggling with a rigid plot, ask yourself:

• What would happen if I let this character make their own decision, instead of the one I planned?
• Am I resisting this twist because it doesn’t fit my outline, or because it doesn’t serve the story?
• What if I wrote the next chapter without looking at my notes?

The answers may lead you in directions you never imagined.

Trust the Journey

Writing is an act of discovery. The best stories don’t always come from knowing where you're going, but from being open to where the story wants to take you. Mark David Gerson’s words remind us that fiction is alive—it evolves, surprises, and grows beyond the writer’s original vision.

Embracing the Unknown

There is a certain thrill in allowing the story to unfold on its own terms. Instead of forcing resolutions too early, writers who embrace the unknown often find that their characters develop deeper complexity, their themes emerge more organically, and their plots take on a natural rhythm.

Consider authors like Stephen King, who famously writes without outlines, letting his stories evolve in unexpected ways. In On Writing, he compares writing to uncovering a fossil—excavating the story piece by piece rather than constructing it from a blueprint. This approach invites authenticity, allowing characters to react and grow in ways that feel real rather than predetermined.

Of course, this doesn’t mean that every deviation leads to a stronger story. Sometimes, the path you follow might take you into dead ends. But even those detours serve a purpose. They reveal insights about your characters, deepen your understanding of your world, and sometimes lead to ideas that wouldn’t have emerged otherwise.

Practical Ways to Follow the Story

For writers looking to cultivate this mindset, here are some practical strategies:

1. Let Characters Lead

If you’re stuck in a scene, stop dictating what should happen next. Instead, place yourself in your character’s mindset and ask: What would they do next? Not what you want them to do, but what feels true to them.

2. Write Beyond the Outline

Even if you prefer outlining, give yourself permission to deviate. If a sudden idea feels more compelling than what you originally planned, explore it. You can always revise later.

3. Freewrite Key Scenes

Instead of plotting every detail beforehand, try writing scenes as they come to you. Freewriting removes pressure and allows the subconscious to reveal elements of the story you might not have considered.

4. Listen to the Unexpected

If a side character starts demanding more space, or if a subplot feels more intriguing than the main plot, consider why. It may be the story telling you where its true heart lies.

5. Revise with Openness

First drafts are often about discovery. When revising, instead of simply shaping the story to fit your initial plan, ask what the draft is already trying to say. Sometimes, the best version of your story is hidden within what you’ve already written—it just needs to be uncovered.

The Power of Trust

Following the story wherever it takes you requires trust—trust in yourself, in your characters, and in the process. It’s about stepping into the unknown and allowing the narrative to surprise you. Some of the greatest stories in literature came from moments of surrender, where the writer allowed the story to evolve in ways they never anticipated.

So, as you write, take a deep breath and let go. Trust that the story knows where it wants to go, even if you don’t. The journey might not always be smooth, but it will always be honest—and that honesty is what makes fiction truly unforgettable.

Next time your story starts pulling you in an unexpected direction, don’t fight it. Follow it. You might just find the story you were meant to write.

Show, Don’t Tell: Revealing Character Through Action

 

Show, Don’t Tell: Revealing Character Through Action

By Olivia Salter

Anton Chekhov, one of the greatest short story writers, famously advised, “Be sure not to discuss your hero’s state of mind. Make it clear from his actions.” This principle is a cornerstone of effective storytelling, emphasizing the power of action over exposition. Rather than telling readers what a character feels, great writers show emotions through movement, dialogue, and choices.

The Power of Action in Storytelling

Readers connect with characters not by being told what they think, but by witnessing their struggles, reactions, and decisions. When a character clenches their fists, avoids eye contact, or hesitates before speaking, we infer nervousness, anger, or guilt. This technique engages readers, making them active participants in the story rather than passive recipients of information.

For example, instead of writing, Sarah was furious, a more compelling approach would be:

"Sarah slammed the door so hard the windows rattled. She paced the room, her hands shaking as she muttered under her breath."

Here, Sarah’s anger is not stated outright but felt through her actions. The reader experiences her emotions viscerally, rather than being told what she feels.

Trusting the Reader

Chekhov’s advice also highlights an important truth: readers are intelligent. When writers spell out a character’s emotions too explicitly, it can feel heavy-handed or patronizing. Subtlety allows readers to interpret emotions in a way that feels personal and immersive.

Consider this:

"Marcus sat in the corner of the café, his eyes fixed on the cup in front of him. He hadn’t touched his coffee in twenty minutes. When the waiter asked if he wanted a refill, he only shook his head, offering a tight smile before returning to his silence."

Without ever stating that Marcus is deep in thought, sad, or distracted, his behavior tells us everything. The reader senses his emotions without needing direct explanation.

Crafting Realistic Characters

Real people don’t constantly articulate their emotions, and well-written characters shouldn’t either. If a protagonist continuously narrates their thoughts and feelings, they risk sounding unnatural. Instead, their actions should reveal their internal world organically.

In dialogue, for example, instead of a character saying, "I'm nervous about the interview," they might:

• Fidget with their pen
• Repeatedly check the time
• Speak in clipped, hesitant sentences

These small but telling details bring authenticity to the scene, allowing readers to feel the character’s anxiety rather than being told about it.

Applying Chekhov’s Principle

To implement this technique in writing:

1. Replace Telling with Showing – Instead of stating emotions, describe body language, actions, and sensory details.
2. Use Subtext in Dialogue – What characters don’t say can be as revealing as what they do say.
3. Let Actions Speak – How a character responds to a situation reveals their emotions and personality better than internal monologues.
4. Engage the Senses – Show emotions through a character’s physical sensations (a lump in the throat, a racing heartbeat) rather than just thoughts.

The Impact on Reader Engagement

When writers rely on action rather than exposition, they pull readers deeper into the story. This technique encourages engagement because readers must interpret the characters’ emotions themselves, making the reading experience more interactive.

Consider the difference between these two passages:

1. Ella was heartbroken when she read the letter. Tears streamed down her face as she thought about how much she had lost.
2. Ella’s hands trembled as she unfolded the letter. Her eyes flicked over the words once, twice. She pressed a palm to her chest, as if to steady something inside her, then crumpled the paper into a tight ball and let it fall to the floor.

The second passage allows the reader to feel Ella’s heartbreak without the writer ever stating it directly. Her actions—trembling hands, rereading the letter, pressing her chest—convey her pain more powerfully than an outright declaration.

By using this approach, a writer fosters a deeper emotional connection between the reader and the character. The audience becomes an active participant, piecing together emotions based on behavior rather than simply absorbing explanations.

Examples from Literature

Many of the greatest authors have mastered this technique. Consider Ernest Hemingway’s Hills Like White Elephants, where an entire conversation about an unspoken topic (an abortion) is carried through subtext and body language. The man and woman never explicitly state what’s happening, but their dialogue, silences, and shifting tones make the situation clear.

Toni Morrison’s Beloved provides another example. Instead of directly stating Sethe’s trauma, Morrison lets readers feel it through Sethe’s fragmented thoughts, her quiet acts of resistance, and her complex relationship with her past.

In To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee conveys Atticus Finch’s quiet strength not by having him boast about his principles, but through his calm demeanor, his refusal to retaliate when insulted, and the way he defends Tom Robinson despite community backlash.

Avoiding Common Pitfalls

Writers learning to apply Chekhov’s advice may initially struggle with striking the right balance. Here are some common pitfalls to avoid:

1. Over-explaining the Action

While showing is essential, overly detailed actions can become tedious. For example:

"John furrowed his brows, tightened his jaw, clenched his fists, and exhaled sharply through his nose as he slammed his hands onto the table."

This is excessive. A simple "John slammed his hands on the table" conveys the same anger without unnecessary embellishment.

2. Ignoring Internal Thoughts Entirely

Some writers misinterpret Chekhov’s advice as a ban on internal thoughts, but internal monologue can still be powerful if used strategically. The key is to pair internal reflection with action:

Her throat tightened. She wanted to scream, but instead, she simply nodded. No one needed to know how much this hurt.

Here, internal emotion complements the character’s restrained action, creating a layered effect.

3. Forgetting That Not All Actions Carry the Same Weight

Not every moment needs to be dramatized through action. If a character is simply deciding what to eat for lunch, an elaborate description of their indecision isn’t necessary. Save these techniques for emotionally significant moments.

Exercises to Practice "Show, Don’t Tell"

1. Emotion Rewrite: Take a sentence that tells an emotion (e.g., She was nervous about her speech) and rewrite it using actions and sensory details.
2. Silent Scene: Write a scene with two characters having a conversation, but one of them is holding back an important emotion. Use body language and dialogue subtext to show what they’re feeling without explicitly stating it.
3. Observation Practice: Watch people in public spaces. Notice how they show emotions without words. A person checking their phone repeatedly, tapping their foot, or crossing their arms might be anxious, impatient, or defensive. Translate these observations into fiction.

In conclusion, Anton Chekhov’s advice—"Be sure not to discuss your hero’s state of mind. Make it clear from his actions"—is a timeless guideline for powerful storytelling. By revealing emotions through action, dialogue, and subtext, writers create immersive experiences that engage readers on a deeper level.

Instead of telling your audience what a character feels, let them see it. The result will be stories that resonate, linger, and feel true to life—because, after all, in real life, emotions are rarely spoken. They are shown.

By following Chekhov’s advice, writers create richer, more immersive stories where readers feel deeply connected to the characters. After all, fiction is not just about telling a story—it’s about making readers live it.

Laying the Foundation: The Role of Exposition in Fiction Writing

 

Laying the Foundation: The Role of Exposition in Fiction Writing

By Olivia Salter

"Exposition is the background material a reader needs to know for the story to move forward. In "Little Red Riding Hood," we need to know that our main character is a girl on her way to visit her ill grandmother, who lives in the woods. We also need to know that this girl is young and innocent, and so might be given to speaking to strangers, such as cunning wolves, who are hanging out in the woods. In the story of Adam and Eve, we need to know that our main characters are a man and a woman who live in a garden, that they are the first man and woman who ever lived, and that they have been told not to touch the fruit of a certain tree. In the Dickens story "A Christmas Carol," we need to know that our main character Scrooge is a callous, penny-pinching boss, a man old enough to be set in his ways, and that it is Christmas time. Once this background information is established for each of these three stories, they can proceed."

— Rachel Simon

Exposition is the scaffolding upon which the architecture of a story is built. It provides readers with the essential context—who the characters are, where they exist, and why their actions matter. As Rachel Simon aptly illustrates in her discussion of Little Red Riding Hood, the story of Adam and Eve, and Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, exposition is not merely a dumping ground for information but a strategic tool for grounding the narrative and preparing readers for the journey ahead.

In Little Red Riding Hood, the exposition introduces us to the titular character—a young, innocent girl traveling through the woods to visit her ill grandmother. These details are not just ornamental; they are critical to the story's progression. Little Red’s youth and innocence make her vulnerable to the wolf’s cunning, and the setting of the woods—isolated and fraught with danger—creates the perfect environment for tension. Without this context, the encounter between Little Red and the wolf would lack emotional resonance, as the reader would not understand the stakes or the power dynamics at play.

Similarly, the biblical story of Adam and Eve relies on its exposition to set the stage for its central conflict. By situating the characters in an idyllic garden and emphasizing their role as the first humans, the story establishes the weight of their choices. The prohibition against the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge is not just a rule but a test of obedience and trust. Without this background, the act of eating the forbidden fruit would lose its symbolic significance, and the story’s exploration of temptation and consequence would fall flat.

In A Christmas Carol, Dickens uses exposition to paint a vivid picture of Ebenezer Scrooge. His miserly nature, his disdain for Christmas, and his entrenched habits are all laid bare in the opening pages. This context is essential for the transformative arc of the story. Scrooge’s eventual redemption would lack impact if readers did not first understand the depth of his callousness. The Christmas setting further amplifies the emotional stakes, framing his journey within a time of year associated with generosity, community, and reflection.

In each of these examples, exposition serves as the foundation for the narrative, providing readers with the tools they need to engage with the story on a deeper level. However, effective exposition is not about overwhelming readers with information. Instead, it is about weaving essential details seamlessly into the narrative. This can be achieved through dialogue, action, or even the protagonist's internal thoughts, ensuring that the exposition feels organic rather than intrusive.

Moreover, the purpose of exposition extends beyond merely informing the reader. It shapes the tone, establishes expectations, and foreshadows the conflicts to come. In Little Red Riding Hood, the seemingly innocuous detail of the girl’s innocence hints at the danger lurking in the woods. In Adam and Eve’s story, the command to avoid the forbidden fruit sets up the inevitability of their transgression. In A Christmas Carol, Scrooge’s disdain for Christmas underscores the magnitude of the emotional journey he must undertake.

For fiction writers, mastering the art of exposition is a delicate balance. Too much information too soon can overwhelm the reader, while too little can leave them disoriented. The key lies in understanding what the reader needs to know and delivering that information in a way that feels natural and engaging. When done well, exposition becomes an invisible hand, guiding the reader into the world of the story and immersing them in its narrative.

Ultimately, exposition is not just a technical component of storytelling but an act of generosity. It is the writer's way of inviting readers into their world, equipping them with the knowledge they need to navigate the story and experience its emotional and intellectual rewards. Like the opening notes of a symphony, it sets the tone, introduces the themes, and prepares the audience for the journey ahead. Without it, the story cannot truly begin.

The Alchemy of Words: Transforming the World Through Language

The Alchemy of Words: Transforming the World Through Language

By Olivia Salter

William H. Gass once said, "The true alchemists do not change lead into gold; they change the world into words." This profound statement reveals the transformative power of language and the role of writers as modern-day alchemists. While traditional alchemy sought to transmute base metals into precious ones, literary alchemy transcends the physical, reshaping perception, emotion, and reality through the written word.

Words as the Philosopher's Stone

At its core, writing is an act of creation. A writer takes the raw material of human experience—grief, joy, anger, love—and distills it into narratives that illuminate universal truths. A single sentence can evoke centuries of history, a poem can capture the vastness of the human soul, and a novel can reframe entire paradigms of thought. Words, like the fabled philosopher's stone, have the power to transform the mundane into the extraordinary.

Consider how great works of literature—Shakespeare’s plays, Morrison’s prose, Baldwin’s essays—have not only mirrored society but also challenged and changed it. These authors wielded words as tools to question authority, spark revolutions, and inspire generations. Their alchemy lies in their ability to extract meaning from the chaos of life and offer it back to the world as a kind of gold: timeless, valuable, and enduring.

The Alchemy of Connection

Words are also the bridges that connect us to one another. A letter from a loved one, a moving speech, or a gripping short story can dissolve the barriers of time, distance, and cultural difference. Through language, we share our inner worlds, making the abstract tangible. Writers transform the complexities of individual thought into something relatable, fostering empathy and understanding.

In this sense, writing is not just a craft but a responsibility. To write is to engage in an ongoing dialogue with the world, to participate in its shaping, and to leave a mark that transcends one’s own mortality. Each writer, from the novice to the celebrated author, holds the potential to create this connection—to turn personal lead into universal gold.

The Alchemy of the Self

For the writer, the process of transmuting the world into words is deeply personal. It involves mining one’s own depths, confronting truths, and distilling insights. In doing so, the writer often transforms themselves. The act of writing clarifies thoughts, sharpens emotions, and crystallizes identity. In this way, the writer becomes both the alchemist and the subject of alchemy.

Why Words Matter

In an age where the world often feels chaotic and fractured, the alchemy of words remains a vital force. Words have the power to heal, to inspire action, and to imagine new possibilities. They can turn despair into hope, ignorance into understanding, and fear into courage. This is why storytellers, poets, journalists, and philosophers continue to shape the course of history—they remind us of our shared humanity and the infinite potential of our collective imagination.

Conclusion

The alchemists of the past may have sought to change lead into gold, but the writers of today achieve a far greater transformation. They change the world into words, creating legacies that outlast empires and treasures that no wealth can rival. Through their craft, they remind us of the profound power of language to illuminate, connect, and transform. In their hands, words are not merely tools—they are magic.