Sooner or later, every writer seeks to improve their writing skills. Maybe you want to learn specific techniques before you start writing. Or perhaps you’ve reached the middle of your novel, and find yourself losing momentum. Perhaps a scene feels flat, or you’ve written and rewritten a chapter so many times that you’ve lost objectivity.
I’ve covered several writing techniques on these articles: foreshadowing, symbolism, different points of view, cliffhangers, flashbacks, dialogue tags, and more.
In this article, I’ll review key writing techniques and their origins, and explore how they can affect your approach to storytelling. Lastly, I’ll give you a Story Weapon to help you find the right balance between story and technique.
Writing techniques are tools that serve a story rather than the story itself, each originating from observations about what makes narrative satisfying. The same technique, like foreshadowing, can produce very different effects depending on the story — quiet worldbuilding in The Lord of the Rings versus directed misdirection in The Prestige. Rather than collecting techniques to use everywhere, the stronger instinct is asking what a specific story needs and letting mastery become invisible.
Every technique begins as an observation
Stories were around long before anyone ever put names to writing techniques. People gathered around fires to share stories. Myths were passed from generation to generation without anyone discussing narrative structure. Shakespeare didn’t have a checklist of literary devices to use before he wrote Hamlet.
People started to notice things about storytelling over time. Leaving small clues earlier on made endings feel more satisfying. Letting readers see the story unfold through different characters’ eyes deepened a story’s emotional complexity. Ending a chapter at the right moment encouraged readers to turn to the next page.
Eventually, these observations were named, shared, discussed, and even taught. These are what evolved to become the writing techniques we use today.
The story comes before the technique
Imagine looking at a painting. You might admire the colors or the texture of the brushstrokes, but those details fade into the larger picture.
It’s not the paint itself that pulls a reaction from you. It might be a lush landscape, or the tension between contrasting colors, maybe a gently smiling portrait, or the juxtaposition of two disparate images.
Stories work in pretty much the same way. It’s not the writing techniques that make them memorable, but understanding a story or a character in an unexpected way.
Readers don’t finish a novel saying, “The foreshadowing was excellent!” Instead, they might say, “I never saw that ending coming.”
What remains when you finish a story is the experience, not the writing techniques. We want to write stories that capture our readers. Using writing techniques masterfully makes them disappear and become a part of the story’s natural language.
Seeing the same technique in different stories
When you study storytelling, whether through books, movies, or games, you’ll discover that the use of the same writing technique can produce entirely different experiences.
Take foreshadowing.
In The Lord of the Rings, seemingly small conversations, songs, and pieces of history quietly prepare us for events that won’t unfold until much later. They help build a Middle-earth that feels like it has existed long before the start of the story, giving every decision the weight of history.
Let’s compare that with The Prestige.
In the opening moments of Christopher Nolan’s film, the audience is told exactly what it’s doing. It asks us to pay attention while carefully directing our attention elsewhere. By the time the truth is revealed, we realize it’s been visible all along.
The technique is the same. The experience is different.
Writing techniques aren’t the story. They’re just tools that serve the story being told. That’s why your goal shouldn’t be to simply collect techniques. Understanding what they can make possible for your story is what’s valuable.
Learning to notice
Instead of asking, “What technique should I use here?” try a different approach, such as, “What is this story asking me to notice?”
Sometimes it’s a recurring image that quietly gathers meaning every time it appears.
Sometimes it’s the rhythm of a conversation.
Sometimes, it’s the way a character avoids answering a question.
The more stories you study, the more you will notice these patterns.
Reading beneath the surface
This is one of the most valuable habits a writer can develop: looking beneath the surface of a story.
Think about a novel that you couldn’t put down. Days later, you’re still thinking about how it ended, the characters you connected with, or scenes that continue to play in your mind.
Instinctively, you might ask, “How did the author do that?”
It’s rare that a single technique made those effects possible. Usually, it’s multiple small decisions working together so seamlessly that they become difficult to separate.
A carefully established point of view makes a revelation feel personal. The pacing allows tension to build rather than arrive all at once. Tiny clues sprinkled throughout a story allow a final reveal to make more sense. Take one technique away and the whole experience changes.
Instead of asking “What technique did the author use?” try asking different questions.
- Why did I empathize with a character’s revelation?
- Why did this scene stay with me?
- Why did I trust one narrator and doubt the other?
You won’t always get immediate answers from these questions. Sometimes, rereading a novel will bring up a different question instead.
Keep observing. Noticing more with every return is part of becoming a writer.
Building a wider vocabulary
A carpenter has different tools for shaping wood. Musicians gradually learn new chords, scales, and rhythms. The more tools or techniques they have, the more possibilities become open to them to create something new in their craft.
It’s the same for storytelling.
Learning a new writing technique increases the number of creative choices you consciously make when crafting a story.
- A nonlinear structure allows your story to unfold through a character’s memory rather than chronologically.
- An unreliable narrator can invite your readers to question every assumption they make.
- A recurring motif can be a binding thread that connects scenes and makes them resonate in unexpected ways.
One technique isn’t better than another. They’re just different ways of expressing an idea. Each story is best expressed in a different way.
The hidden purpose of writing techniques is to give every story the opportunity to become more fully itself.
When a technique doesn’t belong
It’s tempting to use a new writing technique when you’ve just learned it.
After learning about flashbacks, you might begin imagining where you could fit one into your manuscript. After reading about symbolism, you might start thinking every object you use should represent something larger.
Sometimes, those instincts can lead to a wonderful discovery. Sometimes, however, it’s good to remember that being enthusiastic about something doesn’t necessarily mean you need to use it everywhere.
Imagine a workshop full of tools. Just because a tool is available doesn’t mean that you need to reach for it. You only reach for a tool when your work requires it.
Stories need the same kind of restraint.
There are novels that can stay with a single character’s perspective throughout the whole story and become unforgettable because of that commitment. Others move confidently across multiple points of view covering generations, continents, and timelines.
Whenever you find yourself thinking about which writing techniques you can apply to your story, ask yourself: What possibility does this open for my story? Would it help me tell it more clearly, or muddy the waters?
Your story weapon: Seek the story first
There comes a moment in many creative pursuits when the vocabulary starts to disappear.
A musician no longer thinks about scales while performing.
A photographer stops thinking about shutter speed and begins noticing light.
An experienced gardener doesn’t see the techniques for planting or pruning. They see the needs of the garden.
Writers can also experience that transformation in storytelling.
At first, we learn the names: foreshadowing, extended metaphors, internal conflict.
The names matter. They allow us to talk about storytelling, learn from each other, and see the patterns that writers have discovered before us. You can see the writing techniques at work and sharpen your ability to observe.
But eventually, something more interesting begins to happen. You stop looking for specific writing techniques. You’re just looking for the story and how it wants to be told.
Developing a strong command of writing techniques is valuable, but learning when and why to use them is what allows those tools to serve the story rather than overshadow it. To deepen your understanding of storytelling and develop a more instinctive approach to craft, join one of my next workshops: The 90-Day Novel, The 90-Day Memoir, Story Day.
