Writers in the Storm

by Jenny Hansen

Most of us live in a world that’s always connected. Our screens light up, our feeds refresh, our attention splinters. We have online friends all over the world. And yet. . .current research shows that most people feel lonelier than ever. Like significantly more lonely, especially for the younger crowd.

While the social isolation of the pandemic didn't help, the percentage of people reporting that they are "extremely lonely" hasn't significantly decreased in the time since. The reason for this surprised me.

One of the significant drivers of loneliness. . .

Technology. Research is finding solid evidence that loneliness is correlated to technology. The article I linked to above reports that in January 2025: 

• Digital device addiction is at an all-time high. 56% of respondents consider themselves addicted to their digital devices. 
• Fifty-seven percent of U.S. adults surveyed agree that technological advancements have contributed to increased feelings of loneliness. Whereas just 10% disagree (the remaining 33% are neutral). 
• Devices are a form of escapism for many Americans. 52% of respondents say they’re at least somewhat dependent on technology as a form of escapism from everyday life.

So why do stories matter?

We're writers. We absolutely believe stories are essential. But let's zoom out from us to the people who don't have fiction in their daily lives. What could stories be doing for them?

In the cacophony of today's world, stories are stillness. They slow us down enough to listen. To ourselves, to others, to what it means to be human.

Stories remind us who we are.

They connect us, calm us, and give us language for chaos. Especially for avid readers, stories aren't (just) decoration for the soul, they’re an important structure that keeps that soul standing strong.

As writers, that makes our work profoundly important.

Let me tell you a story about a very uncomfortable car ride.

Backstory: From my earliest memory, I've always been obsessed with books. And I hang out with a lot of other writers, so I didn't really understand that there was anything unusual about my reading habits.

Fast-forward to 2012, and I'm in a car going to a holiday lunch with three of my favorite ladies from work: an accountant, the HR director, and one of the admins. My HR friend brought up a great book that she'd read, and we started talking about it. The accountant chimed in that she'd read four times as many books that year as she did the year before.

I was so excited for her, and super-excited for me, thinking I'd met an insane book-lover like myself. My daughter was a toddler, so my own reading had been cut in half. I expressed that lack and how much it bummed me out. And that's when things went downhill.

The Accountant: "How many books did you read this year, Jen?"

Me: "Probably between a hundred and a hundred and fifty. I wouldn't trade my baby girl, but I miss my old 'Bed Days.' I'd bring two or three books and a bunch of snacks to bed and read all day long. Those were the best! How many books did you read this year?"

And there was dead silence in the car. Weird silence. The kind of silence that tells you that crazy just landed and everyone's trying to decide what to do with it.

Finally, the accountant said, "Four. I read four books this year. And I was super proud of that five minutes ago!"

It was the first time I'd ever been mortified about reading. Mostly I was mortified about embarrassing her. But under it all, I was so sad for her. She'd read one book the year before. ONE. I'd have had a mental breakdown.

How does anyone handle life-ing without great stories?

I didn't really understand how much stories help humans cope until I read Lisa Cron's Wired for Story. I highly recommend it for anyone, but especially for writers. You can read her Writers in the Storm posts here.

3 Reasons Why Readers NEED Stories

Most writers don’t just read for plot. We read to feel something true. We read to travel to different worlds and meet new friends. We read to light up our brains and feel more alive. In doing so, many of us quietly repair pieces inside ourselves.

But what about readers? What are they gaining from reading fiction?

1. Stories Build Empathy

Reading fiction strengthens our ability to understand others’ emotions and perspectives. As stated above, this goes for readers and writers.

Research shows that when we follow a character’s inner life, our brain lights up in the same regions used for real-world empathy. In a separate 2022 study, researchers found that fiction readers consistently perform better on emotional recognition and perspective-taking tasks.

In other words, when a reader enters a great story, they practice being another person. That rehearsal of empathy is a muscle that gets tuned up with reading fiction.

2. Stories Help Us Process Emotion

Stories give readers a safe place to experience big emotions. Feelings like grief, rage, fear, and love can all be felt without risk. When we project our own worries or hopes onto fictional characters, we can confront feelings we might avoid in real life. Stories provide a mental rehearsal for courage and healing.

That's no coincidence. Humans have always learned through story.

3. Stories Offer Calm

Clinical research on bibliotherapy (aka that cool word meaning "reading as therapy") shows that stories reduce anxiety and depressive symptoms and foster emotional resilience. Stories remind us that even pain has an arc and that every ending carries the seed of meaning. And it explains why so many readers love the "happily ever after" of romance.

3 Reasons Why Writers Need Stories Too

If readers heal through stories, writers create the medicine. And the cool thing about writing is that same medicine cures us too.

1. Writing Restores Meaning

Writers make chaos make sense.

When life feels scattered, writing allows us to create something that makes sense out of an idea or event that made no sense to us. In his book, Opening Up, psychologist James Pennebaker shares his research showing that "even short bursts of expressive writing can reduce stress, strengthen immune function, and boost mental well-being."

When we shape emotion into words, we stop being victims of our stories and become authors of them.

2. Writing Reconnects Us

Writing connects our inner world with the outer one. Each word you write becomes part of a larger conversation about what it means to be alive. Somewhere, someday, someone will read it and think their generation's equivalent of, "OMG, me too."

That moment of recognition is like building a bridge over a fragmented world. Bridges matter, and so does your story.

3. Writing Creates Flow

When we lose ourselves in creation (what psychologist Mihály Csíkszentmihályi called flow) our brain chemistry shifts. Dopamine rises. Our cortisol level drops. Our inner critic quiets. Flow is the mind’s most natural meditation.

Writing is a vital act of service.

Writers map the emotional terrains others are often afraid to cross. We go first. We name what hurts and what heals. When readers see themselves reflected in our words, they rediscover their own capacity to endure. And they maintain their belief in hope.

Every short story, blog post, or scene that helps someone breathe easier or feel less alone exemplifies humanity being healed in real time.

I hope you put some version of this on your writing wall:

• Creativity isn’t self-indulgence.
  It’s self-preservation.
• When the world feels fragmented,
  stories put us back together.
• When life feels meaningless,
  stories help reframe it.
• When we can’t speak what we feel,
  our stories can whisper it for us.

I truly believe stories can save humanity one word at a time.

Final Thoughts

If you ever doubt the worth of what you’re doing, remember just a few things.

Every story you finish makes the world a little less lonely. And every time you let a character reveal something true, you remind someone else that being human is still a story worth living.

Keep going. Your words matter. They always have.

Now it's your turn. What does reading and/or writing do for you? (They might be different things!) Have you noticed any emotional difference between the people in your life who read fiction and those who don't? Does it change your own emotional set when you don't take time to read?

About Jenny

By day, Jenny Hansen provides brand storytelling, LinkedIn coaching, and copywriting for accountants and financial services firms. By night, she writes humor, memoir, women’s fiction, and short stories. After 20+ years as a corporate trainer, she’s delighted to sit down while she works.

Find Jenny here at Writers In the Storm, or online on Facebook or Instagram.

All photos created in Canva Premium.

Source List:

I read widely for this article, with a lot of journals and research that I'll be happy to share if you like to geek out on things like I do. But an article someone sent me from the Free Press on Substack about an author named David Foster Wallace is what started me down the rabbit hole. In the mid 1990s, he predicted that technology addiction would destroy us. He predicted all that screen time would make people far less connected and far more depressed. And just think, he made this prediction before social media!

By Lynette M. Burrows

Once upon a time...

Learning to hook a reader with the first lines of a story is a skill all authors need. Long ago, tradition dictated that most stories should begin with those four words.

Today, readers will accept the “once upon a time” opening only for myths or retold myths. Other stories need an opening that has elements common to the genre of that story.

Regardless of the genre or style of fiction, the beginning of the book is critical. Often, readers will pick up a book at the library or store and read the first few paragraphs before deciding to buy the book. If the first lines grab the reader, the book goes home. If the first lines of the book make the reader go ‘bleh,’ they put the book down and move on to something else.

If you’ve written and rewritten first lines and first chapters of your book, trying to achieve that perfect first impression, and are still struggling to create a great opening, it’s time to step away from the manuscript for a little study session.

Studying First Lines

In my personal quest for a great opening, I studied the first five pages of ten favorite novels. Obviously, the first five pages of ten different novels would make a very long post. So, for this, I’ve arbitrarily defined the opening of the story as the first 100 words. I will show you the process I used from three of my favorite reads. If you want to do this exercise for yourself, I recommend you choose two or more of your favorites that are in the same genre as you write.

Below are the openings of three of my favorite novels. In a moment, I'll have you tread them three times: once as a reader, once aloud and finally, read it as a writer. But first, let's discuss one way to systematically analyze opening lines for fiction.

Analyze

We know that the first lines need to “hook the reader.” What that doesn’t tell us is how. Different readers respond to different hooks. Different genres need to include specific tropes. Listing the expected tropes in your genre goes beyond the scope of this article. If you don’t know the tropes of your genre, I encourage you to search via your favorite browser. But don’t depend on your browser. Look at Trad published books and at Indie published books. Use books published recently, but don’t ignore older books.

But openings need more than tropes. When analyzing a published book’s openings, I look for answers to:

The hook: The hook doesn’t have to be the first sentence. Sometimes, the hook is more a mood or tone or voice that develops over a paragraph or two.

The protagonist: who does the reader think this story is about?

How the author introduces the protagonist: Look for more than descriptive words. Look for the when, what, where, as well as how.

Why this character? This one is tricky. It's often very subtle hints that you may not be able to see until you're further into the story.

Setting: This includes the things that put ground under the protagonist’s feet. Place, time of day, time of year, etc.

Why now? Does the reader get a hint of why we learn about this character now?

Sensory input: Look for all five senses and how naturally they fit in the story.

Mood: What emotions does the text create in the reader?

Hint of Conflict and Stakes: Often the conflict and stakes in the beginning are “smaller” than the story conflict and stakes.

Tone: This hints at the promise to the reader made through word choice, sentence structure and style.

Genre: Learn more about genres here on Writers In the Storm.

Questions raised by the opening: What questions do you, the reader, have after reading the opening?

What is it you don’t like about this passage? This is your personal reaction. If your first reaction is I don’t like any of it, or I like everything about it, look again. Is there anything that could be stronger?

What do you feel is the strongest feature of this beginning? What is it that makes this beginning one of your favorites?

Not all writers will include all these things. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing. That’s why I ask the last two questions. Sometimes an emotional reaction is the whole reason a story becomes your favorite.

Examples

Dune

by Frank Herbert, Ace Books, 1965

“In the weeks before their departure to Arrakis, when all the final scurrying about had reached a nearly unbearable frenzy, an old crone came to visit the mother of the boy, Paul.

It was a warm night at Castle Caladan, and the ancient pile of stone that had served the Atreides family as home for twenty-six generations bore that cooled-sweat feeling it acquired before a change in the weather.

The old woman was let in by the side door, down the vaulted passage by Paul’s room, and she was allowed a moment to peer in at him where he lay in his bed.”

Remember, read the passage as a reader, read it aloud, then read it as a writer.

My Analysis of Dune

There are 103 words in the first three sentences.

The hook: “In the weeks before their departure to Arrakis, when all the final scurrying about had reached a nearly unbearable frenzy, an old crone came to visit the mother of the boy, Paul.” 

The protagonist: Paul, the only named character.

How the author introduces the protagonist: “the boy, Paul” and “where he lay in his bed.”

Why this character? Since the old crone has an interest in Paul, the reader suspects there’s something important or special about him in particular.

Setting: a location (not Earth), a sense of place and time (ancient pile of stone, home for generations), a warm night, Castle Caladan- home to generations

Why now? It’s the moments before a big change in Paul’s life.

Sensory input: warm night, that cooled-sweat feeling it acquired before a change in the weather.

Mood: The mood is anxious and foreboding (final scurrying, nearly unbearable frenzy, old crone, cooled-sweat feeling). The overall mood is of an in-between state; what was normal is ending, and the next state is unknown.

Hint of Conflict and Stakes: Their impending departure to Arrakis, a mysterious old woman, the ominous sense of imminent upheaval hint that the future will not be as safe as the past was. That implies there will be difficulties or dangers to come.

Tone: It has an epic/mythic tone. The language is formal. The words “their departure to Arrakis” treat the journey as a momentous, life-changing event. “Before a change in the weather” hints at impending upheaval. “Old crone” gives us a sinister fairy tale connotation. “Ancient stone” and referring to the number of generations living there, suggests the weight of long history is involved.

Genre: Arrakis, generations at Castle Caladan, ancient stone, and the old crone provide hints that this is an epic science fiction or mythic fantasy. 

Questions raised: What and where is Arrakis, who is the old crone, why did she visit Paul’s mother? How old is the boy, Paul? What is so important about him is that he’s the only named character? Why are they leaving the castle that had been their home for generations? Why did Paul’s mother allow the old woman to peer in at him?

What is it you don’t like about this passage? Personally, the removed narrator in this isn’t a technique I like to read or use. But it serves a purpose in this story.

What do you feel is the strongest feature of this beginning? For me, it’s the tone and voice. There’s a foreboding and a rhythm that draw me in.

This is my analysis; yours may be different. That’s okay. No two readers or writers are alike. We each bring our own experience, knowledge, and skills to this process. 

Okay. Let’s try another passage from another book.

Seventh Son

by Orson Scott Card, Tor 1987

“Little Peggy was very careful with the eggs. She rooted her hand through the straw till her fingers bumped something hard and heavy. She gave no never mind to the chicken drips. After all, when folk with babies stayed at the roadhouse, Mama never even crinkled her face at their most spetackler diapers. Even when the chicken drips were wet and stringy and made her fingers stick together, little Peggy gave no never mind. She just pushed the straw apart, wrapped her hand around the egg, and lifted it out of the brood box. All this while standing tiptoe on a wobbly stool, reaching high above her head.”

This beginning is 108 words and seven sentences long. 

The hook: “Little Peggy was very careful with the eggs.”

The protagonist: Little Peggy, first two words and only named character. 

How the author introduces the protagonist: Every phrase hints Peggy is young, used to living on a farm, and is trying to do her part. Examples: “very careful,” she roots through the straw, “bumped,” gave no never-mind, “wrapped her hand around the egg,” “on a wobbly stool, reaching high above her head.”

Why this character? Little Peggy appears very young, probably not even school-aged. That hints that there is something special about her.

Setting: She’s in a henhouse and thinks about a roadhouse (an American frontier phrase) where Mama never crinkles her nose at the “spetackler” diapers of babies with folk who stay at the roadhouse. The terms roadhouse, spectakler, and folk all hint at a rural American setting, possibly a historic or pioneer setting. 

Why now? The details about the roadhouse and travelers and babies in diapers hint that someone is coming and that event will change Peggy’s life.

Sensory input: There is touch and texture and equilibrium in phrases like, “rooted through the straw”, “bumped something hard and heavy,” “chicken drips,” “wet and stringy and made her fingers stick together,” and “a wobbly stool.” And if you’ve ever been in a henhouse, you have an implied sense of smell.

Mood: Peggy’s concentration and determination to gather the eggs sets up some anxiety and expectation that something important is going to happen. 

Hint of Conflict and Stakes: The extra care with which Peggy approaches the eggs hints she’s had past problems performing this chore and may have suffered some consequences. The travelers with babies hint at potential problems. We don’t get a strong sense of the stakes, though.

Tone: It has a rustic, down-to earth, and intimate tone that hints of a regional or folk story.

Genre: Potentially American frontier or pioneer fiction with a combination of the regional/folk storytelling tone, and the fairy tale style name, “little Peggy,” plus the detailed description of a child performing an adult task might suggest a historical fantasy.

Questions raised: Will Peggy gather the eggs without incident? Why is a small child gathering the eggs? Are there now or will there soon be travelers at the roadhouse? 

What is it you don’t like about this passage? I got so enchanted with little Peggy; I had a tough time figuring this out. It isn’t something I don’t like as much as it’s something I think could be better. The author could have given us a stronger sense of the time and place. However, its softer approach did not lessen my enjoyment of this beginning.

What do you feel is the strongest feature of this beginning? The voice of little Peggy sucks me in big-time.

Leviathan Wakes, The Expanse Book 1

By James S. A. Corey, 2011

Prologue

The Scopuli had been taken eight days ago, and Julie Mau was finally ready to be shot.

It had taken all eight days, trapped in a storage locker, for her to get to that point. For the first two, she remained motionless, sure that the armored men who put her there had been serious. For the first hours, the ship she’d been taken aboard, wasn’t under thrust, so she floated in the locker, using gentle touches to keep herself from bumping into the walls or the atmosphere suit, she shared the space with. When the ship began to move, thrust giving her weight, she stood silently until her legs cramped, then sat down slowly into a fetal position.

This beginning is 108 words and seven sentences long.

The hook: “The Scopuli had been taken eight days ago, and Julie Mau was finally ready to be shot.” We assume the Scopuli is some kind of ship or place. The phrase “been taken eight days ago” implies some yet-to-be-identified person or persons has hijacked or overrun her ship or simply kidnapped her. And “finally ready to be shot” suggests she has endured much and is ready to give up.

The protagonist: The protagonist in the prologue is Julie.

How the author introduces the protagonist: “Julie Mau was finally ready to be shot.”

Why this character? This moment is when Julie’s life changes; she’s ready to give up and be shot.

Setting: In a storage locker on a ship called the Scopuli. Since she floats in the locker until the ship moves her weight,” we rightly assume it’s a spaceship.

Why now? Julie, a prisoner of someone, is ready to give up. That tells the reader that something important is about to happen.

Sensory input: She floats, keeps from bumping into things with gentle touches, her legs cramp. There than that, there is little sensory input which makes sense because she’s trapped in a locker.

Mood: The words finally ready and trapped hint at anxiety and fear and a desperate situation.

Hint of Conflict and Stakes: In the first sentence. “Armored men” put Julie in the locker, and she states she is in life-threatening danger. 

Tone: Desperate, determined.

Genre: Science fiction / space opera

Questions raised: Who took her? Why? Is she really ready to die? Will she get out of this predicament? 

What is it you don’t like about this passage? I find many prologues are unnecessary, so I rarely read them. However, the prologue is integral to this story. If you skip the prologue and start reading from chapter one, like I did, you’ll come back to read the prologue to figure out what you missed.

It is risky to start with a prologue, and Corey increased that risk in the first sentence. The reader has no emotional investment in Julie and her plight in the first sentence. However, his second and the following sentences introduce us to a strong female character we care about.

What do you feel is the strongest feature of this beginning? The character Julie’s desperation is conveyed, and though she says she’s ready to be shot, we also learn she’s desperately clinging to hope that she won’t be killed. 

Compare the Openings

Now, look at what these opening passages have in common. They each have a strong sense of character, and a tone and mood that promises something big is about to change these characters’ lives.

Armed with this information and my genre's tropes, I can now go back to my manuscript. I know the elements I want in my story’s beginning, and I can re-craft my opening to make the first words count.

Your Turn

Copy the openings of your favorite books into your word processor or journal or onto a piece of paper. (I use the dictation feature on my computer to make the process quicker.) 

Read as a reader. What that means to me is read for pure entertainment. Try not to analyze. Let the words color your reactions the story’s beginning.

Read the passages aloud. Listen to the cadence, the rhythm of the words. 

Analyze the opening. Look for character, place, time, mood, and foreshadowing. Notice words that pique your interest. 

Then return to your manuscript. Look for what it has in common with your favorite books. Strengthen those things, and I’ll bet you will have a much more engaging beginning. In fact, you may even craft first lines that your readers will favorite.

Share the best line of your favorite read and tell us what you think is the strongest feature of its beginning.

About Lynette

Lynette M. Burrows is an author, blogger, writing coach, and Yorkie wrangler. She survived moving seventeen times between kindergarten and her high school graduation. She contends that alone qualifies her for writing stories of characters who struggle against the odds.

Book One, My Soul to Keep, and Book Two, If I Should Die, of her Fellowship Dystopia trilogy tell the story of a young woman in Fellowship America, where even the elite can be judged unbelievers and hunted by the merciless Azrael. The first two books are available at your favorite online bookstore. Book Three, And When I Wake, will be published in December 2025.

When Lynette’s not writing, she avoids housework and plays with her two Yorkies. They live in Dorothy’s home state of Kansas. You can follow Lynette on her website or on her Facebook page or sign up for her newsletter.

By Janice Hardy

Fear doesn’t just terrify—it transforms.

We tend to think of fear as the monster under the bed or the Big Scary waiting in the shadows to grab us. But fear can also look a lot quieter—and sneakier—than that. It’s the voice that says “don’t try, don’t trust, don’t hope,” because those things might get you hurt. Characters use fear to protect themselves, and that false safety can ruin their lives long before any villain gets the chance.

Somewhere in your protagonist’s past, fear went to work on their personality and probably did some serious damage. It whispered lies about what it takes for them to stay safe, and they believed every word. Maybe it convinced them to stop taking risks, to avoid love, or to control everything around them. Fear became their coping mechanism, and they’ve clung to it even as it holds them back.

Fear is what keeps a protagonist stuck at the start of the story, and what pushes them to grow by the end.

Let’s look at how fear shapes believable character arcs and how you can use it to drive your story’s emotional journey.

Fear Lies to Your Character

Every character has a belief that feels true because something happened that made it feel true. Maybe they asked for help and were rejected, so they learned to rely only on themselves. Maybe they loved someone and lost them, so they decided never to love again. Or maybe a parent or trusted adult told them, over and over, that they were worthless or unwanted—until they believed it.

That fear-based belief is the lie that keeps them safe from ever facing that pain again. But it also keeps them from being happy and leading a fulfilling life.

As the story unfolds, your protagonist’s old coping strategies will stop working, and they’ll see the lie’s hold start to slip. They can’t avoid the truth anymore, and every plot event becomes another crack in their fear’s illusion of control, and provides opportunities for character growth.

How Fear Drives the Character Arc

Most emotional arcs follow a similar progression, no matter the genre:

1. Fear controls the character.

At the start, fear runs the show. The protagonist believes the lie and avoids whatever might trigger that old pain. Readers see the gap between who they are and who they could be, and what needs to change for them to be happy.

2. Fear gets tested.

The plot pushes them into uncomfortable territory, and each new challenge forces them to face situations that test their belief and make avoiding or denying it harder. Think of the story problems as chances for the character to learn the lesson they need to learn to overcome their fear and realize the lie is a lie.

3. Fear backfires.

What once protected them now causes harm. Broken trust, lost opportunities, emotional fallout. The “safe” way starts to hurt more than the risk they’ve been avoiding. Maybe it costs them a relationship, an opportunity, or a piece of self-respect, but there are cracks in the fear’s so-called protective bubble around them.

4. Fear is confronted.

At their lowest point, the protagonist faces the truth. Their beliefs, allies, and even their sense of self have all been stripped away. To move forward, they must finally do the very thing they’ve resisted.

5. Fear is transformed.

They don’t become fearless—they become braver. The same situation that once froze them now gives them a chance to act differently. The victory isn’t that they no longer feel afraid, but that they choose to act anyway. Often, you’ll see them embrace the lessons of the story and use those lessons to defeat the antagonist, save the day, or finally cast off the fear and the lie they once believed.

Basically, this is all the emotional version of cause and effect. Every scene becomes a small test of courage until one day, the protagonist can finally pass the biggest one at the climax.

Using Fear to Help You Plot

Once you know what your protagonist fears most, you can use it as a guide to shape the plot.

If your character fears failure, early scenes might show them over-preparing, overworking, or micromanaging to stay “safe.” But over the course of the story, that perfectionism creates problems—alienating others, missing opportunities, or self-sabotaging. By the end, they can’t succeed unless they risk failing.

If they fear abandonment, they might push others away to avoid being left again. At first, maybe they refuse to connect to anyone at all, then the plot puts them into situations where they can’t succeed on their own, and they have to trust someone, even if there’s a chance that person will abandon them, too, forcing them to risk connection and trust.

The trick is to design choices that pit the character’s goal against their fear.

Ask yourself:

• What situations would force my character to face their fear head-on?
• What choices would scare them most, but also teach them something new about themselves?

Pay attention to your story’s major turning points. Those are the moments where fear and growth typically collide and escalate the stakes in some way. And speaking of stakes…

Using Fear to Create Emotional Stakes

Fear raises more than pulse rates—it also raises emotional investment. Readers connect most deeply when they recognize the fear beneath a character’s choices.

Common core fears often appear across genres:

• Loss of control (thrillers, mysteries)
• Rejection or unworthiness (romance, contemporary)
• Failure or insignificance (coming-of-age, drama)
• Identity and belonging (fantasy, science fiction)

The genre may change how fear looks, but the emotion remains universal. Readers aren’t just wondering if the protagonist will win—they’re wondering if they’ll stop running from what terrifies them.

Fear and the Moment of Truth

The climax is where fear and choice collide and neither side is taking any prisoners. Your protagonist can’t win—inside or out—without facing the thing they’ve avoided all along.

• If they fear being seen, they must reveal something true.
• If they fear failure, they must risk everything on a plan that might not work.
• If they fear love, they must open up even though they could get hurt.

You’ll often see this mirrored in the opening and closing scenes. The character starts out dealing with this fear and failing because of it. Then in the end, they face a similar situation, but with a new mindset that allows them to succeed. Maybe the book starts with them walking away from someone who needs help and ends with them choosing to stay. Readers get that sense of, “They couldn’t do this before, but they can now,” and are happy for them.

The movie Finding Nemo is good example for all this.

Marlin’s fear is loss, rooted in trauma. After a barracuda attack kills his wife and their cache of eggs, he clings to his surviving son, Nemo. His lie: “If I can control Nemo, I can keep him safe.”

But control doesn’t protect Nemo—it isolates him. Every problem and conflict in the film forces Marlin to loosen his grip, trust others, and face the unpredictability of life, both for him and his son. By the end, he hasn’t defeated fear—he’s learned to live with it. He’s still cautious, but now he can breathe and let Nemo go.

Fear gives your story emotional resonance. It connects the external events to the internal journey and makes every choice the protagonist makes matter.

Remember…Characters don’t change because they want to. They change because staying the same finally scares them more than taking the risk.

EXERCISE FOR YOU: Identify your protagonist’s core fear and the lie it created. Now, brainstorm three story moments that directly challenge that fear—one early, one mid-point, one near the climax. What happens when the coping strategy that once kept them safe starts to fail? Those are the moments where growth begins.

What fear is holding your characters back? Is it part of their character arc? If so, how?

About Janice

Janice Hardy is the award-winning author of the teen fantasy trilogy The Healing Wars, including The Shifter, Blue Fire, and Darkfall from Balzer+Bray/Harper Collins. and the chapter books Who's Haunting Who? and The Haunting of Cabin 13 for Lerner Publishing. For adults, she writes the Grace Harper urban fantasy series under the name, J.T. Hardy. When she's not writing fiction, she runs the popular writing site Fiction University, and has written multiple books on writing, including Understanding Show, Don't Tell (And Really Getting It), Plotting Your Novel: Ideas and Structure, and the Revising Your Novel: First Draft to Finished Draft series. Sign up for her newsletter and receive 25 ways to Strengthen Your Writing Right Now free.

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