When you think about it, the story concepts and premises we pitch – and just as often, the story concepts and premises we write from – are nothing other than promises.
We pitch a story concept and an ensuing premise to an agent with hope that they’ll want to read more. By implication, by virtue of how we describe the story itself we are promising that they won’t be sorry.
Some writers are better salesmen than they are storytellers… the concept is huge and universal and the premise sounds appealing, dripping with potential. And sometimes – even if the writer has no real clue how to actually write that story – it works within a pitch… the agent likes what they hear and consents to read the story.
Story ideas, even good ones, are a dime a dozen. Writers who can bring them to life… well, that’s why we’re here. To become that writer.
The agent wants to believe in the promise.
And then, all too often, the inevitable happens, and when it does it sounds a lot like the other shoe falling. The promise of the concept/premise is on the line. Now, when it manifests as a manuscript, it had better deliver something more than a promise, more than the scent of something juicy and compelling sizzling on the grill of a storyteller’s keyboard.
Sounds a lot like a political campaign promise, doesn’t it?
How often have we heard candidates assuring us they can solve our problems – end the war, balance the budget, get both sides of the aisle to work together – only to get elected and find themselves (and us) stuck in a political machine that renders all those promises moot and irrelevant.
They say that, and we vote for them.
It’s easy to make a promise.
When you consider that for every 100 story pitches that result in an agent’s request for more (which is about a quarter of all pitches made to agents at writing conferences, which means there are 300 other pitches that got turned down)… thus allowing us to conclude that the promise of those 100 premises was appealing – only about ten of those delivered manuscripts actually result in the agent agreeing to represent it.
That’s nine out of ten promises broken by writers who couldn’t deliver the goods, despite the ability to pitch them well.
For self-published writers, the risk here is orders of magnitude greater. Because nobody is telling you that your promise, via your premise, came up short. Too many writers are executing a premise that is, like that line in Top Gun, an ego writing a check the body can’t cash.
Because the promise of the premise is a story plan promise, as well. And if that plan is lacking clarity, the road gets a lot steeper.
The reason behind this…
… is that it’s too easy to construct an idea into something that sounds like it might be fodder for a compelling story… but ultimately, in that writer’s hands, isn’t.
“The story of a woman whose search for love brings her happiness and dreams beyond her wildest imaginings.”
Yeah, that’s a nice pitch, all right. A promise made. A premise that never misses. Right up there with “learn to make six figures on eBay” via an online training program. That training products keeps on selling… on the promise alone.
But we, as writers, aren’t in that game.
We don’t get paid for promises made and naive customers fooled. We have to keep the promises we make in our premises. We have to deliver a story that is orders of magnitude deeper and richer and broader in executional scope than even the tastiest of premises could possibly describe.
There is a reason many compelling pitches ultimately fall flat.
And here it is.
The pitch… the promise… the premise… is actually more an extension of the concept than it is a buildable blueprint for the story to follow.
Read that again. It means that, while the criteria for a good CONCEPT – it describes a compelling framework for a story – is all there is…
… the criteria for a compelling PREMISE must be much more than a framework.
It must be specific.
A concept and a premise are different things.
That’s the hidden gold here. A premise is much more than a concept, even if/when it is an extension of that concept. A premise is much more specific. It fleshes out the concept. It tells how and why… with specificity that relates to a protagonist.
A concept doesn’t even have a protagonist in it.
A premise must introduce a protagonist with a problem or an opportunity, stemming from a situation, leading to a specific call to action, a quest (that requires decision and reaction, then attack), with specific opposition in the way… with specific stakes in play… all of which will evoke the reader’s engagement on multiple levels (emotional, personal via vicariousness, intellectual, social, chemical, etc.).
I see nice concepts leading to equally promising yet remarkably vague premises all the time. If the promise of either the concept or the premise is rich enough, an agent might still say yes, but a publisher won’t (nor will readers) unless and until the premise (which, let it be emphasized again, is a different thing than the concept) and the story that emerges from it is imbued with much more specificity.
Not just a promise. But with something specific.
“I will offer you a job” is a promise. A concept. But you can’t write that story until you know what that job is.
“I will hire you as a teacher, in a third world country, working with a man you might fall in love with, or not, because he’s a terrorist sympathizer…” that is specific. A huge difference for someone looking for a job.
Here’s a short case study in point. Read and learn.
This is from my Quick-Hit Concept Review program, in which writers are asked to state both a concept and a premise. Many succeed at the former – as does this writer – but fewer deliver a premise that is more than an extension of that concept, that make a promise with real teeth and compelling specificity at its heart.
Compelling specificity. That’s the whole ballgame, right there.
Read it here: April Concept to Premise Case Study.
Feel free to comment with your own feedback and creative thinking. This writer generously and courageously consented to the sharing of this, and deserves the best thinking we can offer.
I’ve done that in my comments, as you’ll see.
Now it’s your turn to chip in.
*****
Got 99 cents?
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*****
Read a nice interview I did with Sue Coletta on her website, Crime Writer Blog. She’s an example of an author who is soaking up craft as fast as she finds it, with several titles available.
You can also read her review of my novel, “The Seventh Thunder” … HERE.
15 Responses
Thanks to everyone for the replies, and most especially thanks to Larry for the invaluable advice and instruction. As Larry assumed in his analysis, I have all the answers in my head and on paper. My confusion was in how much to reveal in the premise.
Wow there are so many ways you can go with this. What if she got text messages and when she tried to show them to someone else they were gone. What if her mother was really still alive and being forced to write the letters by the psychotic love she left behind. What if the secrets are a cat and mouse ploy to lure her into a trap. and her love has given her thirty days to solve the problem or lose her mom. or what if she finds out the love she left behind is actually her step brother who has been accused of murdering their mom.
I hope you’ll pardon me but the idea was so great I could probably go on all day. Run with this one I think it’s a winner
Mr. Brooks,
Since you mentioned your ebook ‘Stuck in the Middle’, I’d like to ask about converting oneself from “pantser” to “planner”. I’m not even to the middle yet and I’m bored with the story — I know where I’m going, so I don’t feel the pressure to write it. Please be clear: I *want* to leave my pantsing ways behind me and repent. 🙂 I *want* to be a planner in my writing, like I am in my everyday life.
Is this lack of interest a common problem for ex-pantsers? What advice do you have to get the mojo flowing again? I’m coming back to the keyboard and writing. I’m trying to do all the things which help me get into ‘the zone’ for writing.
Thank you for any suggestions you can offer.
Anne.
Anne, most pantsers vehemently refuse to consider any other option.
Some small few, like Sue Coletta, risk opening themselves to the idea, and then become staunch advocates.
She can tell you about my process, and if you like I’d be delighted to explain how I walked Sue from The Valley of Pants to Mount Plan-A-Bit.
Ha! Love how you worded that, Joel.
Mr. Canfield,
I welcome any opportunity to broaden my writing horizons and skills. Will something like 10 novels in various stages of chaos, I know something’s got to give! And I think “pantsing” is just the thing to go. I came to Mr. Brooks thruogh a couple different recommendations (Cathy Yardley’s “Rock Your Plot”, the website writelikerowling, which uses Mr. Brooks “Story Engineering” to explain how Ms. Rowling made Harry Potter such a bestselling phenomenon). I’ve learned so much already and yet, I can sense the gaps — particularly on this topic of concept/premise/plot.
I will pop over to your site and “contact you” via your web form. Thank you so much for your kind help!
Anne.
Ms Coletta,
I wonder if you are familiar with Lawrence Block’s Bernie Rhodenbarr “Burglar” series?
And, I couldn’t help but think of Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum. I think you have a winner with Shawny Daniels. Keep it up.
Traci,
Take a few minutes and look at Sue Coletta synopsis of her thriller ‘Timber Point.”
I tried to reverse engineer the synopsis into what I think comes close to a premise.
( My apologies to Ms. Coletta if my attempt missed the mark. My complements Ms. Coletta. I think Shawny Daniels the cat burglar could easily be a series. )
My shot at a premise based on Ms. Coletta’s synopsis.
What if a cat burglar’s latest break-in and her theft of a fancy trophy box puts her into a face off with a serial killer? The bad guy uses a dead chipmunk to clarify his attitude toward her and his desire for the return of the box. Caught in the whirl of her need for protection, which as a thief she can’t risk, even when she winds up in a relationship with a cop and the bad guy’s desire to kill her, Shawny Daniels really needs to protect her freedom, stay alive, hold on to her true love and find that box.
Wow, Curtis. Bravo on the synopsis. Very, very close. I’m impressed. And please, call me Sue. Ms. Coletta sounds so old! Thank you so much for your kind words. I haven’t read Lawrence Block’s “Burglar” series. But I will, just as soon as I’m done with Larry’s thrillers. Your comment is so nice. My hope is that others will love Shawny as much as I do, and it gives me hope when I hear nice things like this. You made my day!
Oops. I meant “Bravo on the PREMISE”, but I suspect you knew that. 😉
Sue. 🙂 Thank you. I’ll blame it on my parents. It’s respect. I still open the car door for my wife.
A quick question. When you wrote “Timber Point”, did you have a two sentence Premise? Or, did you work from the synopsis posted on your website?
Your use of juxtapostion is what makes”Timber Point” work for me.
nice/thief. Thief/cop relation. Thief’s conscious decision to steal /But, unaware of the gravity of what she stole.
The stealth of a cat burglar/ the oops of the absent minded. She lost the box. She thinks / But, she is not sure. It could be this / but it could be that.
Juxtaposition creates crossed polarity. At the intersection of the + / – of a battery you get explosive energy. But, you have to have both + /- and at the same time. Nice/Thief. Thief/Cop relation. When words collide we get story like Timber Point. When words don’t collide we get a report.
Enough of that. I ramble on.
Cheers
I actually used several what ifs. What if a cat burglar discovered a serial killer’s lair and then accidentally stole his trophy box because it reminded her of her childhood? What if she mistakenly loses that box, the same box he wants back? Since Shawnee is so anti-cop, being a thief, I knew having her in a relationship with a cop — the same detective hunting the killer — would create massive tension. So, my what if was: What if that cat burglar, who hates cops, found herself attracted to the lead detective? What if her “helpful” best friend set her up on a blind date with that detective and as much as she tried to resist she falls for him? Incidentally, speaking of juxtaposition, her best and only friend is a meek, mousy librarian. So their relationship is filled with conflict, too. Obviously she frowns on Shawnee’s lifestyle so Shawnee tries to hide it from her, but feels horrible afterward. I could go on and on. I’m so glad you like what you’ve read about the story. My hope is others will feel the same way.
Have a wonderful day, Curtis. You keep making mine. Thank you!
Traci, first let me say, you are very brave and I commend you for that. Your initial concept sounds intriguing. Letters from a dead mother… fabulous! Now, speaking as a reader and not a writer (I’ll leave the coaching to Larry :-)) I’d want to know a few things, which I hope you’ll find helpful. 1. Where did the letters come from? Most of us can’t communicate with the dead, so what happened that made her suddenly be able to receive letters from the beyond? In other words, the trigger. A bump on the head? A car accident? 2. What are the letters asking of her (action)? Do they send her on a mission (goal)? 3. What happens if she can’t fulfill her goal? In other words, what’s at stake? 4. Who is trying to prevent her from reaching that goal (antagonist force), and why?
I truly wish you the best of luck, Traci. Thank you for allowing us this sneak peek. It’s easy to see other writer’s work objectively; it’s our own that’s the problem, at least for me.
This post really helped me. Because, sadly, I’ve made promises to agents I couldn’t keep, much as it pains me to say. But that was then, this is now. And I can’t wait to start working with you!
Thank you so much for the shout-out. What a nice, unexpected surprise.
Larry, I think something that would help me would be more real life examples from great books. Pick apart (as you’ve already done with The Help, etc.) what the concept and premise are.
The more I see examples of concept and premise, the better I understand it.
Traci, this sounds like it has great potential, something that I would love to read. But, as Larry says, I would want to know more before even buying the book from a shelf.
I think sometimes as writers we feel we have to keep the storyline mysterious to coax readers’ curiosity. But I’m learning through this website that when we’re trying to pitch to an agent – and to Larry 🙂 – we need to give them all the information that we have. We can save the mystery for the back cover.