I recently volunteered to mentor an aspiring writer—part of my effort to pay back for all the help I’ve received—and began our conversation by asking what her novel was about.
Her answer went something like this: “Well, there’s this man who’s always … and then he immigrates to … and then later his wife dies … and so he decides to enlist in the Army … and then he finally realizes that … “
It reminded me oh-so-painfully of the first time I pitched to an agent at one of those “get published” conferences where hopeful writers pay XX dollars for XX minutes of an agent’s time. I could see the agent sneaking a look at her watch and knew I was failing miserably to win her interest, so I blurted, “And wait, I forgot—there’s a dog in it too. But then he dies.” (Hey, it was heart-wrenching.)
Like my mentee, I didn’t understand aboutness.
When my mentee was finished with her report, I said, “So your book is about redemption.”
If I’m permitted one cliché per essay: her face lit up. That word had never occurred to her, but it was exactly what her story was about. Then I asked her what kind of redemption it was. Redemption that no one, including the protagonist, had ever thought would be possible? Earned redemption, through a personal sacrifice? Unearned redemption, through someone else’s act of courage, mercy, or generosity? Redemption by chance, the accidental side-effect of another event? Different kinds of redemption indicate different kinds of stories.
I began this way—with a word—because it’s how I think about my own books. In my experience, it’s easier to expand that one essential word into a phrase, a sentence, and a pitch than it is to try to locate it within a lengthy, often discursive summary.
I don’t want to give away a story that doesn’t belong to me, especially since my mentee’s book hasn’t been published yet, so I’ll use my own book to illustrate the series of aboutness distillations that I call word, phrase, sentence, and equation. And then I’ll expand it even further into a two-sentence summary of essential elements.
To be clear: Aboutness is not plot. Plot is the way you deliver a story’s aboutness.
Word: Queen of the Owls is about wholeness. If I had to pick one word, that would be it. In my mentee’s book, it was redemption. Yours might be agency, forgiveness, revenge, reunion, courage, or any large-scale idea.
Phrase: Queen of the Owls is about the search to be a whole woman. In other words, what kind of “wholeness?” Another book might be about making a family or community whole again.
Sentence: Queen of the Owls is about the search for one’s whole self, framed around the art and life of iconic American painter Georgia O’Keeffe.
The sentence is in two parts. The first part states what is universal about the story—the large human theme that makes it a story that many, if not most, people could relate to. It answers the question: Why would this book be meaningful to me, as a human being? The second part states what is unique about the way I’m telling it. After all, there are plenty of books about the search for self—since there are only so many “large human themes”—so I need to explain what’s different about this one. It answers the question: Why should I read this particular book?
The first part of the sentence might not be explicitly stated—it’s often better if it isn’t—but you can find it by thinking about the protagonist’s motivation or goal. The protagonist’s desire—which, by definition, is the thing she lacks at the beginning of the story—is probably related to one of the great enduring themes such as courage, forgiveness, intimacy, self-acceptance, a second chance, a sense of belonging, and so on. The prodigal who finds his way home, the person who finds her voice after years of silence, the Scrooge who finds warmth and generosity. It’s often a journey from one thing to its opposite.
The second part of the sentence is equally important. Georgia O’Keeffe’s role in Queen of the Owls makes that second part of my sentence fairly easy to formulate, but every book has, or ought to have, something specific and interesting about it. It might be a setting, an era, a set of circumstances, an unusual character (“told through the eyes of a …”). If you really can’t find it, it might be worth adding—in an organic way, of course, that suits the story.
A useful exercise is to pull ten books off your shelf that you love and see if you can find that sentence on the jacket—or come up with it yourself.
Equation is another way of talking about the book’s premise, what it demonstrates about how life works or what it means to be human. If A, then B.
The equation that underlies the story in Queen of the Owls is: Embracing the parts of yourself you’ve neglected or denied leads to a sense of wholeness. If you do A (embrace the neglected parts of yourself), then B (wholeness) will result.
The story premise doesn’t have to be “true;” it just has to be true for the story. It might seem, at moments, as if the opposite relationship is about to be demonstrated—those setbacks, reversals, and “dark nights” that add to the tension—but at the end of the book, the premise has been validated.
For that reason, premises can vary. The “A” part of the equation might be paired with a different “B” in different stories. For one book, the premise might be: If you hold fast to your dream, it will eventually come true. For another: If you hold fast to your dream, you’ll miss the real gift that is right in front of you.
Once you’ve formulated your story’s aboutness, you can map it onto the framework of a plot. For example, if your story is about belonging—finding connection and community—then the plot will tell what happens when someone who lacks connection, who doesn’t feel as if she belongs, goes through a series of experiences, tasks, and moments of choice that bring her, in the end, to a new sense of community.
Here’s a fictitious example of that kind of framework. It’s pretty formulaic, but that makes it easy to identify all the elements. Your book might be more nuanced, but you should still be able to articulate each of these elements.
This is a story about what happens when …
A person who
A concise statement about the way the protagonist is at the beginning of the story, the way she is wounded or incomplete, trapped or stuck, unsure or (mistakenly) content.
For example: A woman who has settled into a solitary, risk-free life …
Does something, meets/encounters
What is the specific act or event that tips the character into the story, launches her out of life-as-it-is into the unknown?
For example: takes a job in a small town on a remote lake …
That begins to change her
What new condition is presented to her that sets the stage for the Big Moment? Embedded in this new condition is a conflict, or potential conflict.
For example: where she finds herself drawn into the lives of people who are different from anyone she’s ever known.
As a result, she must now
What must she choose, do, face, embrace, repair, overcome? What task will she have to carry out, what challenge will she have to meet, that will change her forever? What will it cost her (the stakes)?
For example: When an unexpected tragedy strikes the town, she must choose between her own familiar routines and the lives of those who are counting on her.
And discovers/finds/learns
What is the new understanding—about self, others, the world—that this climactic event brings? How does she change, as a result?
For example: Through daring to reach out, she finds a sense of connection and belonging that she didn’t know she was missing.
In short: A story is a journey, which means it has an arc. The protagonist starts out one way, goes through certain experiences that require her to make choices which have consequences, and is different at the end of the story. The way in which she is different is directly related to the story’s theme. If she starts out bitter and the theme is forgiveness, then she is more open and accepting at the end of the book than she was at the beginning. That’s what makes a book hang together and feel coherent—it’s how we, as readers, know what it’s about.
What about the story that you’re working on? What’s one word, one phrase, one sentence, that tells what it’s about? What is the A to B premise that it demonstrates? Were any of the five points in the last exercise difficult to identify? Did you have an Aha! moment while you did one of these exercises?
Wish you could buy this author a cup of joe?
Now, thanks to tinyCoffee and PayPal, you can!
About Barbara Linn Probst
Barbara Linn Probst is a writer, blogger, former teacher and therapist, and “serious amateur” pianist living on an historic dirt road in New York’s Hudson Valley. Her debut novel QUEEN OF THE OWLS launched in April 2020 from She Writes Press--the story of a woman’s search for wholeness framed around the art and life of Georgia O’Keeffe. QUEEN OF THE OWLS has garnered stellar advance praise and will be the May 2020 selection for the Pulpwood Queens, a network of nearly 800 book clubs across the U.S. It was also named one of the most anticipated books of 2020 by Working Mother. Her second novel is slated for publication in April 2021. Before switching to fiction, Barbara published two nonfiction books and more scholarly articles than she cares to remember. She’s proudest of WHEN THE LABELS DON’T FIT (Random House, 2008), a book to help parents raise, understand, and nurture out-of-the-box children. An out-of-the-box child herself, Barbara has a PhD in Clinical Social Work and worked for many years counseling, teaching, doing qualitative research, and advocating for people with mental and emotional challenges.
This is a great way to think about story, Barbara. You know how I adore this kind of big-picture analysis. It was so enticing I couldn’t help but play along!
Word
Reclamation
Phrase
The Call of Thistle Lake is about a bonsai artist’s search to reclaim the connection with the big trees that used to define her.
Sentence
The Call of Thistle Lake is about the reawakening of one woman’s true nature, set within the violent reclamation of a Northeastern ice storm.
Equation
Only through embracing your true nature can you learn where you belong.
Oh, I love this, Kathryn! You nailed it (no surprise) and your story is totally coherent :-). Whether one does this exercise before embarking on a new project (as a kind of map), at some point during the first draft (to assess where you’re going and what you still need to think about it), or after completing the manuscript (as a self-assessment tool) … all good! Thank you so much for the example!
Thanks for the great article. I love how you broke it down and provided examples. I recently had to provide a two sentence pitch as part of the Art Fact Sheets for my next book. Published or aspiring, pitching is an important skill!
I’m so glad the article spoke to you, Carrie! For sure, understanding the “aboutness” of your story makes it easier to talk about it with clarity and conviction—e.g., in a pitch. But it’s also helpful during the writing process itself, as a way to stay on track :-)
I like that way you’ve broken it down. Thanks for this post!
Glad you liked it, Beth, and I hope this way of thinking proves fruitful in your own work! I think it helps to have several ways to conceptualize a story’s “aboutness.” It also can help to pinpoint where, exactly, one isn’t clear yet! Sometimes I know intuitively that something’s not right, but am not sure what :-).
Hello Barbara, it’s always so good to have this connection to and learning from you.
With the path you’ve drawn I see the work ahead on my own map and have less chance of getting lost. Thanks!
Deborah, I am so glad this is useful to you! It’s brain work, for sure, to conceptualize a story’s “aboutness.” For me, that clarity allows space for the intuitive part writing to emerge. Thank you for weighing in!
Great post, Barbara. I love the way your broke premise into digestible bits. Awesome.
I’ll share!
Yours,
Dee
Nothing makes me happier than knowing that a post I’ve written is useful to those who’ve taken the time to ponder it … unless it’s knowing that they’re sharing it with others! Thank you for that! I do think that this kind of thinking about premise and “aboutness” provides an essential backbone for a story. The characters, descriptions, even the plot are the flesh … but they need that spine! Thanks for commenting!
What a great article! It came at just the right time for me. So often we get caught up in the details and forget that such a simple question can resolve so many problems!
I’m so glad! It’s a “simple” question, but can be harder to answer than we think—showing us that we aren’t clear :-). I agree with you that the details (how we craft individual sentences, scene openings, depicting the movements and gestures of our characters—all important!) need to be seen in the context of the overarching theme of the story, which can shed light on what those details need to be. I find that I need to keep returning to that. Thanks so much for commenting!
Nothing works better than explicit teaching— step by step with clear explanations. Barbara goes further, unpacking it with clear and beautiful examples for me to follow.
Thanks for writing such a useful lesson.
Thank you for this! Like you, I learn through a combination of principles and examples—the idea, and a a concrete example of how to apply it. I’m so glad you found the essay helpful :-)
Thank you so much for this. I suspect I own the Guiness Book of World Records title for making something complex out of something that is and ought to be very simple. Aboutness may be a one word cure for that if I can just apply it.
I had worked on a previous novel for years before I realized it was about redemption. That realization made it possible for me to bring it to a satisfying resolution. I didn’t learn enough from that, but I think you’ve furthered the effort.
Maybe I can use it to focus my current efforts. I have a story, but it doesn’t have Aboutness. I may be able to fix that now.
Thank you again.
Knowing the question to ask (“What is this story about?”) is more than half the battle! Every story has to be ABOUT something, or else it’s just a string of episodes and events, no? This is one of those deceptively simple ideas! It’s rarely stated outright in the manuscript, but the author knows it and the reader feels it. Think about books you’ve loved and see if you can say, fairly quickly, what they’re “about.” That’s another way of asking why they matter … And yes, I think you will be able to fix your new WIP now!
This is a fascinating take on what’s really important in our work. But it’s harder than it looks. I’m still searching for one word to replace ‘letting go’. ‘Releasing’ just doesn’t have the same nuance. 🙂
I agree that it’s harder than it looks at first blush, because it asks us to think! BTW “letting go” may be two words, but it counts as one, since it’s a single concept. So go ahead and use it :-). Your story is about letting go. That’s great! Now (to challenge yourself further): Letting go of what? Of old narratives about oneself? Of expectations? Of regret? Of fear? That will help you to understand what your story is about!
What an interesting approach to go through the manuscript and very helpful ‘what to look for’ information. I always appreciate step-by-step guides Thank you, Barbara.
Thank you, Annette! I dd try to put forth principles AND to show how to apply them :-). Very glad you found it useful!
Barbara, I first read your article 12 hours ago. Then the day took over and I forgot about it. This evening the seed planted earlier emerged as a new idea behind the core concept I’ve been nibbling around for months. I just finished an hour writing down my responses to each point listed in your article, and I have to tell you, even this late in the day, that the result is a mind-jarring breakthrough. I’m stoked, I have new direction, and I can’t wait to flesh it out in draft.
So thank you for putting it out there, planting the seeds in the way you did, because that, for me at this point, is the essence of how to build a story.
Bravo!
Wow! “A mind-jarring breakthrough!” It doesn’t get any better than that, does it? Just as you say, something simmers below the surface, in the intuitive part of the brain, but needs the conscious mind to give it form. Once those two things come together, the “core concept” appears, which brings coherence to the story. For me, I had an essential theme for the new manuscript I’m working on, and then about three-quarters of the way through the first draft, I realized that it was actually “about” something else … something deeper, in fact. I’m so happy that this essay helped you, and thank you for your comments!
Barbara, what an excellent exercise. It’s funny, but I do the exact opposite…write what happens like a child would, this happens, then that, because, etc. Then I whittle it down to a page, then a paragraph, then a sentence to capture the essence of the book. Finally a word to encapsulate. I like your fill-in-the-blank approach too. Thank you.
Vijaya, I love how we start at opposite ends and yet end up with the same essence! However one arrives at that point, of understanding the heart of one’s story (what I’m calling its aboutness) doesn’t matter, so long as we get there :-). Thank you so much for offering this other approach!
Excellent advice! Thank you so much!
You’re very welcome!
THanks for the great article, Barbara. When I read it, the word that immediately came up to me for my WIP was self-acceptance. Now I’ll have to think about the phrase, sentence and equation :)
That’s such a great “aboutness” for a story, Nele! The fact that it came to you at once, intuitively, is a wonderful verification. Thank you so much for commenting, and I’m so glad that my piece was helpful to you!
Thank you so much for sharing your insight. Your article was recommended to me by my writing mentor. I’ve been struggling to articulate the aboutness of my story for a long time, and your article has cleared the murkiness. I appreciate your help!
Knowing that this article has been recommended by your writing mentor—and that it has cleared your “murkiness”— means the world to me! Thank you so much for taking the trouble to let me know. I really hope the article finds its way into many toolboxes :-)
Very useful – thanks!
This was so, incredibly helpful! What a great exercise.
Sentence: All I Know is about the search for family and community connection, while also searching for one’s own path, framed around the flourishing film industry, in an unlikely, midwestern town.
Equation: All I Know is a story about what happens when an industrious girl meets an enterprising theater owner. As WWI looms over the country, she must learn to trust herself and those around her, and in so doing, finds a sense of connection and belonging in a place she never expected.
That’s just great, Autumn! Your one word is connection. What is your A leads to B premise? “If you do A, then B will follow.” That would be helpful to you too, I think. And yep, this really is clear and concise :-)