The Fiction-Writer's Guide to Better Articles

Give yourself time to get it right.

Note: This post was the last written for the Post Op substack, and the first to appear in the new Post Op section of Literary Salon.

As we combine Post Op and Free Bookstore with the mission here at Literary Salon, allow me to invite you to visit and subscribe to my remaining Newsletters.

ThaddeusThomas.com is my author site,
OurDeeperStories.substack.com is philosophy and my journey in deconstructing my faith, and
Sibyliad.substack.com is my history and myth Newsletter with an eye on the Renaissance and the classical era.

I’m a fiction writer branching out into the world of nonfiction newsletters, and I’ve discovered I need to learn more about:

Writing Professional-Level Nonfiction Articles

We’re still telling stories. The more I look into it, the more nonfiction loses its distinction from fiction in all aspects except that this is grounded not only in truth but in facts.

Do we treat our articles that way? They’re often treated as an escape from the heavy work of fiction, and in reality, we need to carry that heavy work with us. As fiction writers we have the opportunity to bring our greatest strengths to the world of nonfiction. Our difficulty has been in the assumption that we have to leave those strengths behind.

The reality is, many of us don’t hold our nonfiction to the same standard as our fiction, and we honestly don’t realize it’s possible.

Consistency is about the long run, not this immediate moment. If we have to interrupt our immediate output to build a better system that will produce better articles, it’s worth it. If we know we’re creating more than a slight delay, we can warn our audience and move ahead with what’s necessary to be better. If the delay is insignificant, and I suspect most delays will be, we won’t worry about it.

We can afford to keep our readership waiting. Few are waiting in anticipation for our next article to drop, but that’s the point. They should be.

We need a new process, but it can begin as usual. Sit down and produce that article. Finish it, and then leave. Walk away. Do other things.

I’m writing this article to force myself to plan out a new system. Here we go:

I’ll mark such an article so when I see it in my drafts, I’ll know it’s current stage. In fact, I’ll do that for all my drafts. Ideas that are just quick notes waiting to be expanded on will be marked as IDEA. If I’m working on that first pass but haven’t completed it, that’s a DRAFT. When I have an article that’s complete according to my former standards—what should I call that? I’m tempted to call it an EGG. It contains an embryonic article, but it needs to emerge from its shell and grow into its full potential.

The process and the intention is important, because as I’m writing this, I’m excited. This article is going well. I’m addressing a problem and doing so it my own way with a workable solution. It feels so good. Normally, I’d think all the article needed was to be completed, edited, and published. If I’m intentional in my process, however, I understand that there’s a higher level of quality I can achieve.

Elsewhere, I’ve said that the primary factor of growth on Substack in our writing. If I can improve my quality, I need to make that effort.

After I’ve drafted my egg, then what?

Step One: Duplicate to Drafts

I’ll need bravery and freedom when approaching the changes to the egg, that means I need to know I’m not going to break it beyond repair. I’ll duplicate the post and work on that, changing its designation from EGG to CHICK.

Now, I can start applying to the CHICK draft all the knowledge I’ve gained from writing fiction that surprisingly, still applies here. Seriously, I’m kind of shocked. I’m not writing narrative nonfiction, but the reality is that all writing is storytelling. It’s all narrative.

Step Two: Identify the Story

When I first return to the egg, my task is to isolate the story.

To do this, it’s important that the egg be largely unadorned. As I go, I can throw in headings and other formatting, but I’m not going to worry about going back and formalizing that formatting throughout the piece. Those are just suggestions for future me, the same future me who needs to understand that no idea is locked into place.

If I think I need images, GIFs, or graphs, that can be noted—but I won’t include them in the draft. When I come back, I want nothing obscuring my hunt for the story.

Step Three: Cut Everything Else

Anything that’s not in service to the story goes. Anything. Everything. I can be fearless because I have everything protected in another draft.

This reminds me of another point to keep in mind during the drafting stage. Don’t worry about overwriting. My drafts need to be longer so I have more room to cut. For some, this isn’t an issue. Others are underwriters, and if that’s you, your approach will be different. You’ll still cut, but you’re prepared for the task of adding meat to those bare bones. I don’t see myself in either camp. Instead, my internal editor is telling me where I should be thinking about closing things off because of perceived length. That internal editor needs to understand that the length goal is longer now. I need that cutting room.

An alternative would be to leave myself in the situation of an underwriter, but it’s always easier to cut material than to add it.

Step Four: Organize to Highlight the Narrative Arc

Three act structure. Character growth. It all comes into play.

It feels wrong, though, and I know why. Throughout my schooling, I had teachers tell me that my work was too much of a story, and in that context, I’m not saying they were wrong. Not everything in life fits this model.

Step Five: Give Yourself Freedom with the Prose

For much the same teacher-taught reasons, I’m holding back when I write nonfiction, but when I read really powerful, professional articles, what blows me away are the same qualities that impact me in fiction.

Step Six: Elevate the Narrative with the Personal

Sometimes, an article will be inspired by something personal, but now, I’m looking for how that narrative structure suggested by the existing material can be supported by something personal.

Alternatively, if what comes to mind isn’t something from my own life, but a story from the world at large, that’s fine too. If it brings it to mind, then that story has stuck with me for a reason. It’s become personal in its meaning, and if I can understand why, then I can apply it to the current article in a way that highlights that personal connection.

Additional Thought: Style

What comes to mind is Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, and that prompts a question of style. More options of voice and the role of the writer within the article become viable. I can challenge myself in ways I haven’t before and produce works that were never possible within the limitations of my of process.

The HEN Draft

When I’ve finished that second pass of the story, the CHICK is done. I’ll now walk away and clear my mind. When I return I’ll Duplicate to Drafts again, and begin the HEN or ROOSTER pass.

The HEN pass is about better blending the personal moment with the foundation I’d written, as much as such a thing can be done. With each pass so far, it’s been a process of working my way from the beginning to the end of the article, avoiding going back as much as possible.

The next pass won’t have a name. I’ll Duplicate HEN to Drafts, but that draft will be the real thing: the final draft I’ll work on. For now, though, it’s time to walk away.

The Final

Initially, I give the article another pass, but I also know that I won’t be publishing this for several days. Final draft is a misnomer. I need to think of it as a new beginning. I’ve taken is this far by being fearless in my original approach to the material. What happens now will be a careful approach.

Most of all, I want to see what I’m missing.

In this case, I’ve drafted an article about drafting without getting into the details of what it means to apply our fiction-writing skills to nonfiction. As authors, I’ve assumed we already know that, but there’s an aspect about writing that can’t be assumed. What this article is really—really—about is being real.

It’s ironic how comfortable I’ve become with the idea of fiction being real if not factual and how difficult it’s been to bring that same realness to facts.

Thaddeus Thomas