Of all the parts of a story, the middle is where things most often begin to loosen. The energy of the opening has settled, and the ending is still out of reach so it can be tempting to drift. But the middle isn’t empty space to cross. You should ideally be treating it as if it’s where the story deepens and earns what comes next.
 
One of the simplest ways to strengthen it is to look at tension. Not necessarily big, dramatic events, but a steady sense of pressure. What does your character want now? What’s getting in their way? If nothing is pushing against them, the story can begin to sag.
 
Momentum comes from cause and effect. Each moment should lead to the next, even in small ways. A choice, a reaction, a shift… these keep the story moving forward and give the reader a reason to stay.
 
This is also where character has room to grow. Let them struggle a little longer. Let them make mistakes. Let them misunderstand things, or choose badly, or hesitate when it matters. Conflict doesn’t always have to be loud to be powerful. It just needs to matter and have meaning.
 
And it’s worth looking closely at your scenes. Are they doing something: moving the story on, revealing something new, increasing the stakes? If not, they may need to be sharpened, combined, or let go. We have all heard the phrase “kill your darlings”. Editing out words that cause lag – no matter how much you love them (put them in a “reuse” file) – is the most important and valuable thing you can do for your writing.
 
A strong middle doesn’t draw attention to itself, but you feel it working. It holds the story together and carries the reader, almost without them noticing, towards the ending.
 
Which part of writing do you find hardest? The beginning, the middle, or the end? Let me know in the comments. I hope you have been enjoying my ramblings about writing craft, which I hope to continue doing daily with more in depth weekly posts like these too.
 
If you have a story (flash or short) or a novel manuscript that needs editing, please consider me for the job. I have lots of experience, both for WestWord and more recently for Fiction Factory, who I complete competition entry assessments for (both short story and novel first chapters). I have worked personally with several authors to get their manuscripts ready for publication. You can find some endorsements for my work at the button below, and you can also explore the rest of my website to see the stories I’ve had published, and to book for any of my courses or events.

I can’t believe it’s the end of another week. I committed to writing at least one writing craft blog post per week, and it seems to come around so quickly. I hope you have all had a productive writing week. Mine has been here and there… I have been trying to find some stories suitable for sending to the National Flash Fiction Day Flash Flood, and then, hey presto – some rejections came in this week, so I will probably send those! Ha ha. You can take part in the Flash Flood, which posts a story every few minutes on June 13th, by visiting the site at the button below and following their guidelines.

So… onto the craft part of this post. I am posting one short writing related social media post every day (that’s the plan anyway, barring anything getting in the way, or me forgetting, LOL), and from those posts I sum up at the end of the week. So.. this week has been all about beginnings, so let’s get on with it. By the way, if you are interested in any workshops I do, or in hiring me as a mentor, then you can click on the menu buttons at the top of the page here, have a little look around, read my stories, and then visit my bookings page. I would love to work with you.
 
How to Write a Beginning that Hooks Your Reader
A strong beginning doesn’t just start a story; it makes a promise to the reader that their time will be well spent. The key is to draw them in to the world your characters inhabit without overwhelming them, offering just enough to spark curiosity while leaving space for questions to grow.
 
One of the most important decisions is where to begin. Often, the best opening isn’t the earliest moment in the timeline, but the moment where something shifts, where tension, change, or uncertainty is already in motion. Starting too early can dilute the energy whereas starting at the point of movement gives the story immediate life. All the details you want the reader to know about the backstory can be woven into the current moment timeline.
 
Intrigue comes from what’s withheld as much as what’s revealed. A reader doesn’t need to understand everything straight away. In fact, they shouldn’t. A carefully chosen detail, a hint of conflict, or a question left hanging can be far more compelling than a flood of explanation. Avoid info dump as much as possible. It’s tempting to begin with background, and to over-explain, but this can slow the story before it’s even begun. Info-dumping and throat-clearing often push the real story further down the page. Instead, aim to begin with something active or evocative, allowing context to emerge naturally as the story unfolds.
 
The opening lines are where the reader learns the tone and voice of your story. Whether the voice is lyrical, spare, intimate, or distant, those first sentences set the emotional and stylistic expectations. A clear, confident voice invites trust and encourages the reader to settle in.
 
Tell me, what’s your favourite opening line from your own work or someone else’s? I would love you to let me know in the comments. Also, if there is any aspect of writing you would like me to cover in future posts or blogs, then do let me know. And finally, if you are not already a subscriber to my monthly newsletter (which will occasionally be more than once if I have anything to let you know about) then click on the button below and hit subscribe.

This week in my daily social media posts I have been focusing on dialogue. Dialogue is often where a story comes alive, but it’s also where it can lose its power. One of the most common arguments is whether good dialogue should sound like real conversation. It would be nice to think we could be so authentic and get away with it. It can work, up to a point. But, in reality, everyday speech is full of filler, repetition, and drift. On the page, that can quickly become tedious and annoying. Personally speaking, just as I hate to hear those people who say “So I was like, and he was like, and I, like did this…” so I don’t want to read it on a page. Getting the balance right is essential, so authenticity is at the heart of your dialogue without making your readers want to rip their ears out!
 
Effective dialogue is shaped. It gives the illusion of realism while being far more focused and intentional.
 
A useful place to start is by cutting the lead-in. Skip the greetings, the polite exchanges, the small talk. Begin where something is at stake. When characters speak because they need to, the scene immediately gains energy.
 
It’s also worth paying attention to what isn’t said. Subtext - the meaning beneath the words - can transform even a simple exchange. A character might deflect, avoid, or answer a different question altogether. These gaps invite the reader to lean in and interpret.
 
At the same time, dialogue can carry more of the story than we often allow it to. There’s a tendency to over-explain, adding extra description or internal thought to make sure everything is clear. But this can dilute the impact. When dialogue is working well, it can reveal character, build tension, and move the story forward, all on its own.
 
Conflict, even in subtle form, is key. Characters rarely want exactly the same thing, and that slight misalignment creates movement. One pushes, another resists. One speaks plainly, another circles the truth. This friction gives dialogue its life.
 
For fun – write a scene of dialogue where one person is talking about one thing, and another something completely different during a conversation. Let it be a while before they (or even the reader) realise. I would love to read what you come up with, so please feel free to post it in the comments.

Point of view is one of the most influential and important decisions we make when we come to write our stories and novels. It determines not just who tells the story, but how that story is experienced. It tells the reader what is seen, what is hidden, and what is felt.
 
It’s tempting to choose a familiar perspective, but it’s worth asking who is the best person to tell this story? Often, the answer isn’t the most obvious character, even to you, but the one with the most at stake, or the one who misunderstands events in a revealing way.
 
Point of view also shapes distance. A close perspective can pull us tightly into a character’s thoughts and emotions, creating intimacy. A more distant one allows for space, reflection, and a broader view of events. Neither is better; each offers different possibilities.
 
What matters is consistency and clarity. When a point of view slips unintentionally, it can break the reader’s immersion in the story – and there is nothing worse than being “pulled out of” a story. I hear and see people say that all the time in book reviews. But when a point of view shift is controlled, it becomes a powerful filter. Everything - the setting, the dialogue, even the smallest detail - is shaped by the perspective through which it’s seen.
 
But it is also true that limitation can be a strength. What a narrator doesn’t know, or chooses not to reveal, can create tension and depth. Sometimes, what’s left unsaid carries as much weight as what’s on the page.
 
Have you ever changed the point of view in a piece of writing? What difference did it make?
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Try this exercise: Rewrite a scene you are working on from a different point of view. Notice how not just the details change, but the tone, the emphasis, even the meaning of the scene itself.
 
Let me know in the comments on this post what you think, and what happened when you did the exercise.
 
Until next time
 
Happy scribbling!