111 The Four Essential Pillars of Novel Construction with C.S. Lakin
How do I write a novel? This is one of the most common questions writers ask, whether they’re just starting out, finishing their first book, or even after writing half a dozen books. Many also wonder, “How do I write a better novel?”
I asked C.S. Lakin to answer that question. She’s an award-winning author of over 30 fiction and nonfiction books, a writing coach, a workshop instructor, and a book copy editor who loves helping writers create their best work through Writing for Life Workshops.
There are four essential pillars that will help your novel withstand criticism, navigate the challenges of publishing, and, most importantly, resonate with readers.
Why does structure matter?
C.S.: Structure saves time. It might sound surprising, but writers often waste time by winging it, writing draft after draft, discarding them, and starting over.
When you understand novel structure or basic story structure, you realize that nearly every good story shares the same foundational elements. This makes writing easier and more efficient. You avoid writing scenes that need to be discarded or feeling frustrated, wondering what comes next in your story.
Think of building a story like constructing a house. You create a foundation by digging trenches, adding rebar, and pouring concrete. Once that foundation is set, you can build a skyscraper, a cozy cottage, a shopping mall, or any other building. The foundational principles remain the same, though details like the amount or thickness of rebar may vary. In the same way, you can use the same basic elements to craft any type of story, regardless of genre.
These four essential pillars I’ve developed can be applied to create almost any story. Of course, there are exceptions, and some novels succeed by breaking these rules. But starting with the most common structural elements gives you an advantage, especially if you’re aiming for a commercially successful novel.
Ignoring these foundational pillars risks a shaky foundation. You wouldn’t build a three-story house and leave out a corner support, hoping it won’t collapse when you’re jumping on the third floor.
Beginning writers, who may lack the skill to experiment with unconventional structures, can stick to these pillars and have a solid starting point for success.
Thomas: There’s a significant difference between knowing the rules and choosing to break them to serve a higher purpose versus blundering forward without understanding them. It’s the difference between a novice and an expert. Mastering the rules allows you to know when and why to break them, but you must learn the rules first.
Pillar #1: Protagonist with a Goal
C.S.: These four pillars don’t have a strict order, but each must be equally strong, like pillars supporting a heavy roof.
While I start with “Protagonist with a Goal,” you might begin with another pillar, like “Theme.” For example, I often start with a theme, such as someone willing to sacrifice everything to save strangers, and then I build a story from there. As you work on one pillar, it will spark ideas for the others. In time, you’ll have cohesive foundation for your story.
I encourage beginning writers to lock in these four pillars before moving on to the other eight listed in my book, The 12 Key Pillars of Novel Construction: Your Blueprint for Building a Strong Story (affiliate link)
The protagonist with a goal is a critical element. Most stories center on one character pursuing a short-term goal after an inciting incident shifts them toward it, as screenwriting consultant Michael Hague explains. This applies to most movies, plays, and novels. If you can’t easily summarize your protagonist’s goal, your novel may lack focus.
Without a clear purpose for your protagonist, the story can become a series of events with ups and downs or relational drama but no driving purpose. The protagonist’s goal is tied to their inner motivation of what they care about or are passionate about. That motivation connects to the story’s concept, conflict, and high stakes.
Goals typically involve conflict, such as man-against-man or man-against-nature. Common goals include getting something, winning something, delivering a message, retrieving an item, or rescuing someone.
While a character’s goal may evolve, their initial goal often reflects who they are at the story’s start. For example, in McFarland, USA, the protagonist, a teacher, aims to coach at a top high school. He ends up at a school he initially sees as a career dead-end. But he forms a cross-country running team there and leads them to state championships. By the climax, he’s offered his dream job but turns it down, realizing that his true goal is to stay with his community and students. This shift reflects how a character’s goal can change as they grow, driven by their core needs, past experiences, or family trauma.
What does your protagonist want?
Thomas: When I work with a novelist to develop a pitch, one of the first questions I ask is, “Who is the protagonist of your story, and what do they want more than anything else in the world?” What is the glorious purpose they are burdened with?
A protagonist isn’t necessarily the hero. In many stories, the protagonist is actually the villain, and the heroes are the ones trying to stop him.
In the movie Infinity War, Thanos is the protagonist. He’s the one making decisions that move the story forward. He’s the one burdened with glorious purpose. Iron Man, Captain America, and the others are trying to stop him from achieving his goal. T the ending is satisfying, even though the bad guy wins because the protagonist gets what he wants. Then it flips in the sequel. He becomes the antagonist in the next movie as the others get their revenge.
The protagonist needs to be the one making decisions that move the plot forward.
Authors who struggle to answer the question, “What does your protagonist want more than anything else in the world?” often find they’ve created a passive protagonist; things just happen to the character. This is especially problematic if your protagonist is also the hero. What ends up happening is that the villain becomes the more interesting character. You make evil look compelling and good look boring, and your so-called “Christian book” becomes counterproductive.
Your protagonist needs to make decisions. Katniss Everdeen has to volunteer as tribute to go to the Hunger Games. She can’t be dragged there by the evil regime. The fact that she chooses to go changes her as a character, and it dramatically affects how much readers like her.
How do you fix a passive protagonist?
C.S.: You can start off with a character who’s passive, uninspired, or even pitiable, but you’d better not waste time getting to the inciting incident that sparks a desire in the character to move toward something. It’s okay to start with a character who is wimpy or stuck, but don’t stay there long. You want to show that they’re empathetic and not merely pitiable.
Thomas: If you’re an unknown author writing your first story, you have to hook people in those opening pages. If your protagonist is unappealing, readers may never stick around long enough to see it. They’ll just stop reading.
Writing techniques shift a bit when you’re Tolkien. After writing The Hobbit, one of the bestselling books of all time, he didn’t have to start The Lord of the Rings with a bang because people trusted him. But he didn’t take that approach in his first book. The Hobbit gets going pretty quickly compared to The Lord of the Rings.
C.S.: Exactly. Think about a movie like Sleeping with the Enemy, where the protagonist is married to an abusive, violent man. The story begins with her in her real world as a victim who is passive and trapped. But even early on, we see glimpses of her desire to escape, to live an independent life.
The story presents high stakes and danger right from the beginning.
You can start with a character in a difficult situation like that, but you must show that they’re empathetic and not just pitiable. There’s a big difference. If your character is too pitiable, readers won’t care about them. They’ll just think, “You made a mess, and you never got out of it. Why should I care?”
You have to show glimpses early on that your character is redeemable and admirable.
There have to be strengths that come through. And again, you need that inciting incident to arrive quickly. In Sleeping with the Enemy, once we see how trapped the character is, we soon see her start to take control and find a way out. That’s when we start rooting for her.
We want to know how she is going to escape.
It’s vital not to have a passive, boring character with no motivation. Your protagonist must want something badly. Whether they’re trapped in a bad marriage or an avalanche, they need a valid goal, like an escape.
Pillar #2: Concept with a Kicker
Thomas: So we’ve got a protagonist, and they want something. They’re burdened with glorious purpose. What’s the next pillar? How do we make that goal hard to reach?
It’s not an interesting story if someone wants a snack, opens the fridge, and grabs a snack. So, what’s the next pillar we need to build?
C.S.: Maybe something weird happens when they open the fridge, and that’s the twist that leads us to the second pillar: Concept with a Kicker.
Most stories have been told a million times. Writers often think they need an ultra-original story, but that’s not necessarily true. Most of the time, you’re just retelling a familiar story in a fresh way. In a romance, guy meets girl and they don’t get along, but then they fall in love and live happily ever after. We’ve seen that plot endlessly. Similarly, there are thousands of mail-order bride stories, and they all sell well.
Readers don’t always want a unique story. But a high-concept story with a twist or fresh angle can definitely stand out. That’s why The Hunger Games was so compelling. You could sum it up in one sentence and immediately intrigue someone: “Kids are forced to fight to the death on live TV.” That raises questions. How will that play out? How can that much violence be palatable?
That’s a concept with a kicker. It’s about creating a fresh premise that hooks people.
What makes a premise compelling?
C.S.: A premise is basically a “what if.” What if a comet is coming to Earth, and someone has to stop it? That’s an external situation. Or maybe it’s an internal challenge where someone going mad, trying to stop themselves from losing control.
In the hundreds of manuscripts I’ve critiqued, I’ve seen that many have weak premises. Their concepts are boring. There’s no twist, no surprise, and no story hook.
Back in the day, we’d say, “What’s your story hook?” Readers, editors, and agents want to know what twist or unique angle makes your idea fresh. The best stories have that hook built into the premise. You see this a lot in mystery, suspense, or detective genres. The whole story builds to a big twist at the climax. The guy you thought was the killer turns out not to be, and it was the mailman all along. And the clues were there the whole time.
That kind of twist is expected in mystery or thriller genres, but you can apply the same thinking to any genre. Take a romance novel about a woman living alone on a deserted island when a man washes up on shore. Add a twist to that based on secrets or delayed information that the character and reader don’t yet have, and then you have a kicker.
The twist can come from the setting, the time period, or even the character’s profession. I’ve read so many manuscripts where the characters have incredibly boring jobs and contribute nothing to the plot. They go to work, have sales meetings, and nothing happens. The job doesn’t help shape the story at all.
What you want is a premise that’s fresh and dynamic and gives the story energy. Whether it’s a unique setting, a surprising twist, or a character with an intriguing profession, that’s what helps your story stand out.
What is a high concept?
C.S.: A high concept is a story that stands on its own, even if all you share is the elevator pitch. In Hollywood terms, it means you can sell the idea without needing a top actor or director attached. You pitch the concept, and the film company or backers say, “I love the idea of The Hunger Games. I don’t care who stars in it. It’s such an incredible concept. I can already picture how amazing this will be. It’s going to sell a bazillion tickets.”
A high concept is basically a premise that’s fresh, unique, and original. It hooks people immediately. That said, you don’t have to write a high-concept story, but it does make it easier to sell or to get readers interested. I always try to aim for something high-concept in my stories.
Even if you’re writing a familiar type of story, like a typical romance, you can still give it a unique twist. You could set it in a confined place like an elevator where the two characters are stuck there for the entire novel because of a blackout or an alien invasion. That premise alone makes it more engaging. It all comes down to the situation your characters are in.
Thomas: One way I’ve heard high concept described is as a very simple story without a lot of complexity or nuance. Think Snakes on a Plane. What’s it about? Snakes on a plane.
It’s the opposite of low concept, which tends to be more popular in European filmmaking. European films are often very nuanced and character-driven. They’re complex, sometimes even bizarre to non-Europeans, and they usually don’t sell well internationally.
American films, on the other hand, are typically simple. We see guys with big muscles driving fast cars, running from bad guys with big muscles driving fast cars. Every new movie has someone with even bigger muscles, an even faster car, or a crazier stunt. Another superhero movie. Another action blockbuster.
Many authors don’t want to write high-concept stories. They want to write low-concept, character-driven stories, and there is a place in the market for those. But there’s a lot less room because most people want simpler that feel familiar.
You might think, “Oh, those people are just unsophisticated.” But when was the last time you tried Ethiopian food? Chances are, when you go out to eat, you choose the same kind of food you always get. If you haven’t tried Ethiopian food, you’re missing out! But Americans don’t usually eat Ethiopian food. Obviously, I’m exaggerating a bit, but the point is that you can’t change people’s preferences overnight.
You can’t say, “You should try eating with your hands! It’s fun! Sure, all the ingredients are unfamiliar, but trust me.” Most people will just say, “Nah, that’s too weird. I want to go to Olive Garden like I always do.”
C.S.: Just to clarify, when we say “simple story,” we’re not saying it has to be action-packed with explosions and chase scenes. A simple story can be a relational drama that’s sweet, moving at a slower pace.
It can still be simple and have a lot of heart. So don’t get locked into thinking that a high concept equals action.
Thomas: “Guy gets girl, guy loses girl, guy gets girl back” is the classic high-concept romance. It’s the formula behind 90% of all romance stories.
If you want to read the original that kicked off this genre, I’d point you to Much Ado About Nothing by Shakespeare. It’s the first classic version of that storyline. All romances are basically derivative of it. If you haven’t read Much Ado About Nothing or watched one of the film versions, you really should.
C.S.: Listen to the banter between the characters. That’s what became the foundation for stories like The Thin Man, Castle, and Moonlighting. The romantic leads are always bantering, always resisting each other, and determined not to give in.
Thomas: And it’s still funny after 500 years, which is remarkable. The humor has aged surprisingly well, especially when it’s performed well.
Pillar #3: Conflict and Tension
C.S.: You can’t have a story at all without tension and conflict. Tension is conflict. But the conflict can’t be random, like characters yelling and arguing all the time. I grew up with friends whose parents argued constantly, and I did not want to be in that house listening to all of it. Conflict isn’t interesting unless it’s significant and meaningful.
Conflict and high stakes go hand in hand. If your character is passionate about something and pursuing a goal because of that passion, they need an obstacle. If your protagonist has to rescue a child who’s been trafficked in France, there must be an obstacle that creates conflict.
Both inner and outer tension are required. You need things happening to the character, around the character, and within the character as they pursue that goal they care about. They should also struggle with vulnerabilities, doubts, hard choices, and moral dilemmas. Pack your story full of conflict.
How do I know if my stakes are high enough?
The high stakes element is an interesting component because we often think of high stakes as only applying to superhero movies where they’re saving the world. But as a writer, you need to understand that high stakes are only about what your character cares about.
In Fly Away Home, for example, the girl in the story hatches some goose eggs and wants to save the geese. To do that, she has to stop the fish and game official who wants to clip their wings. So, with her father, she builds flying machines so they can lead the geese from Canada down to the southeastern U.S. coast and relocate them.
Now, to the average person, who cares? Would most of us spend every moment of our lives trying to save some fuzzy little geese? Probably not. But we love that movie because it has so much heart.
It’s not just about a girl who found some geese and has nothing better to do.
Why does she need to save those geese? Her mother had just died in a car accident. She was in New Zealand and was flown to Canada to live with a father she didn’t even know. It’s all about her grief and not being able to deal with life. The geese become her purpose. They’re the vehicle that helps her find and connect with her father. Through them, she finds a sense of home, hope, comfort, and healing.
Her core need is driving her.
Your character can be passionate about something as simple as winning a cake-baking contest as long as they have a compelling reason. If the character’s reason is one readers can relate to and resonate with, it works.
If someone wants to win a cake-baking contest just to brag to their friends, I’m not interested. But if they want to win because their mother’s dying wish was to start a halfway house for runaway girls in their town, and the $50,000 prize money would make that possible, that is a compelling motivation. That’s what gives the story heart.
High stakes matter intensely to your character. Everything is on the line as they pursue their goal, chase their dream, escape, or fulfill a deep need.
Thomas: In John Wick, it’s not just that they killed his dog. It’s that they killed the dog his wife gave him right before she died of cancer as a way of remembering her and grieving.
Stakes must matter personally to the protagonist.
Thomas: The stakes have to matter to the protagonist in a really believable way. For instance, this morning, there was a big rain shower, and my daughter wanted to go out and play in it. But to do that, she needed three things: her rain boots, her cute little raincoat, and her pink umbrella.
Getting those three things was a big challenge for a two-year-old. To get the umbrella, she had to persuade a parent to go out in the rain to the car and retrieve it. That’s a tough negotiation for a toddler. Then she had to find her raincoat and both of her rain boots. She found one, but she couldn’t find the other, and she started crying. She desperately wanted to go outside before the rain stopped, and in Texas, rain can start and stop all at once.
For her, this was everything. It mattered more to her to find that missing rain boot than if the world were ending. Forget flooding or other massive stakes; her high stake was, “I want to go play in the rain.” She finally found the boot and happily ran outside to play.
C.S.: That was a short-term goal, and there were obstacles in her way. It might not be the most engaging story for some readers, but for a children’s book, it would resonate as a huge obstacle. She needs to get outside in time, and then the rainbow appears, and everything is magical.
How are private and public stakes related?
C.S.: Keep in mind you don’t always need big, dramatic stakes. Ideally, you want to include public stakes if you can. In other words, your character has private stakes that matter deeply to them personally. For example, she wants to get the geese to South Carolina so they can survive. That’s a private stake.
But then there’s the public stake: what happens to the people or community around her? She and her dad cross the border from Canada into the U.S., and the only place they can land for the night is this abandoned-looking airport. Turns out, it’s an army base. Suddenly, soldiers are pointing guns at them. That’s a public stake; it involves bigger obstacles and more people.
You don’t have to include public stakes, but they can really elevate a story.
One movie I love to refer to is The Milagro Beanfield War. It’s set in a small town in New Mexico that’s been suffering from drought.
The premise is that a man wants to grow beans using water from the ditch running along his property. But a big corporation has taken over the water rights, and now the townspeople don’t have access to what they’ve always used.
If 50 bean plants are at stake, who cares? In real life, the guy might just give up and say, “Guess I won’t grow beans this year.” But the story escalates into something much larger. It becomes a David-and-Goliath story of the small town standing up to a big corporation over ten gallons of water.
Early in the story, the man finally says, “Forget this,” and taps into the water ditch. That act sets off a water war. Now you have huge public stakes.
If you haven’t seen the movie, you should. It’s fantastic and so well-structured. You see the rising stakes, bigger obstacles, and great story progression as a character pursues a goal that resolves at the climax.
Watch movies and deconstruct them as you go. You should be able to identify the protagonist’s goal, how it changes and grows, and what makes the concept unique. We’ve seen a million David-and-Goliath stories, but this one is special because of the setting, the culture, the characters, and even a touch of magical realism. Some characters speak to spirits and have deep cultural beliefs, making the story feel beautifully unique even though the concept itself is familiar.
Pillar #4: Theme with a Heart
C.S.: Not every story needs a theme, but I believe the best ones tap into universal themes.
We resonate more deeply and are moved more by stories that carry meaningful themes. How do you find your theme? Well, your character’s inner motivation, made universal, is your theme.
If you’re unsure what your theme is, ask yourself:
- What is motivating your character?
- What do they want?
- What do they need?
- What are they passionate about and why?
Maybe they’re fighting the system because they oppose the death penalty. What happened in their past to fuel that passion? That’s your theme.
Another place to find your theme is during the dark-night-of-the-soul moment, just before the climax, when your character faces a moral dilemma or wrestles with their greatest flaw. That’s when they reflect and ask:
- What do I care about most?
- What do I need most?
- What is most important to me?
These are universal questions that your readers will connect with.
C.S.: Remember that universal doesn’t mean generic. You can tell a highly specific story and still have it resonate.
Take The Kite Runner, for example, which is set in Afghanistan. I’ve never been there and don’t have experience with that culture, but I can still relate deeply to the story because of its universal themes of shame, guilt, and redemption.
Even though the characters and setting are unfamiliar, the emotional journey connects across cultures.
How can you reinforce the theme organically?
C.S.: Characters with opposing views help bring your theme to life organically. For example, if your protagonist is against the death penalty and their partner or spouse is in favor of it, that creates conflict, raises the stakes, and provides powerful drama. It also allows your theme to emerge naturally through dialogue and story action.
Thomas: The better you present the opposing view, the more persuasive your book becomes as your character ultimately prevails. If your presentation of the opposing view is a straw man that’s unfairly represented or phrased in a way no one would actually say, it’s not persuasive. Defeating a straw man isn’t interesting. Nobody wants to watch a boxing match between a man with gloves and a man made of straw.
How do you work a theme into a story without becoming overly didactic?
C.S.: Let your characters express what they’re passionate about in an authentic way. You want them to truly believe their viewpoints.
One exercise I really like comes from Donald Maass, who teaches it at his Breakout Novel workshop. He has you write the synopsis of your story from the point of view of your antagonist. It’s a powerful exercise. I did it with one of my novels, and it helped a lot.
If your antagonist truly believes in their perspective and feels justified in their actions, your story becomes far more believable. Maybe they think they’re doing what’s best for their family or for society. That adds complexity, and it creates moral dilemmas that the reader can wrestle with, too.
Take a hot topic like abortion. Say your protagonist is adamantly against abortion. But now her daughter is going to die unless she has one. The baby won’t survive, and there’s no hope. What does the protagonist do? Try to change her daughter’s mind. Does her daughter try to change hers?
When you put your character in a moral dilemma where there’s no easy answer, it forces both the character and the reader to think. It’s almost like Sophie’s Choice. If you can give your character two equally awful choices, you’ve created a believable, organic situation that doesn’t feel preachy or didactic. There are pros and cons to both sides. That’s how I approach it.
Thomas: And preachy just doesn’t work. Generally speaking, people don’t want to pay for a book that lectures them.
C.S.: You can have a character who is preachy if that’s part of their personality, but it shouldn’t sound like the author is preaching to the reader. If you’re not sure whether you’re crossing that line, talk to a writing coach. They can help you spot it.
Thomas: I’m really enjoying In Darkness Cast (affiliate link) by Jonathan Shurger right now. It’s a classic epic fantasy with a twist. The mentor is the villain. He’s this powerful black wizard, and the hero is a virtuous young man. The conflict between them lets Shurger explore some deep questions about morality and the nature of good and evil.
They debate back and forth, and the power dynamic between them keeps it interesting. It’s a creative way to play with familiar tropes: the young man learning to wield a sword and the wise mentor. These are common in epic fantasy, but by twisting the mentor role, it suddenly becomes very fresh.
If you’re looking for dark Christian fantasy, this one fits. It’s violent. Shurger is a Marine, and that experience shows in the book. It’s definitely a PG-13 or even an R-rated Christian novel.
C.S.: That’s important to keep in mind. When you’re describing or pitching your book, be upfront about content that might be graphic or potentially offensive. Let readers know what to expect.
Any final encouragement or tips for crafting great novels?
C.S.: Whether you’re just starting out or have been writing for a while, I strongly encourage you to dig into story structure. I like Plot & Structure (affiliate link) by James Scott Bell and my book Layer Your Novel (affiliate link), which lays out a step-by-step approach.
Writing a good novel is complex. Anyone who says otherwise probably hasn’t written one. My method for layering starts with ten key scenes. From there, you build out the next ten and keep layering. It’s an approachable method.
Story structure is often the biggest struggle I see. I do about 200 manuscript critiques a year, and many writers get lost in structure. That’s the first area you should focus on. After that, consider working with a coach who can point out your weak spots.
It really helps to get a 50-page critique or have a few scenes reviewed. You’ll get feedback and know what to improve, and that accelerates your progress far more than just writing aimlessly year after year, unsure whether your work is good.
Also, join a good critique group. It can be hard to find the right partners, but it’s so worth it. I just launched some mastermind-critique group hybrids this year called Eight Weeks to Writing a Commercially Successful Novel course. We have about 60 writers across seven critique groups organized by genre.
Accountability, collaboration, and encouragement make a huge difference. Whether online or in person, find ways to connect with other writers.
If you live in a remote area, you may need to connect virtually but do whatever you can to build relationships. Writing is a solitary pursuit, but you don’t have to do it alone.
Thomas: It makes a big difference. Every writer needs a critique group. Often, that means starting your own. If you want help with that, I have a course on How to Start a Writers Group.
Sponsor
If you want more from C.S. Lakin, she has three courses available at the Christian Writers Institute:
- Four Foundational Pillars of Novel Construction – a deeper dive into what we’ve talked about today.
- How to Make a Living as an Editor – for those interested in editing professionally.
- The Secret to Big Amazon Book Sales – strategies for marketing your books effectively.