I flunked out of architecture school. I survived long enough, though, to learn a thing or two about the craft of designing and constructing buildings. For example, I learned that regardless of whether the project is a simple dream home or a fifty-story skyscraper one doesn't just show up at the job site with a stack of lumber, a good hammer, and an endless supply of nails and then proceed to pound one two-by-four to another adhoc until you run out. It's surprising, I know, but it's true. Craftsmen of construction actually spend months or even years first developing, editing, and refining a blueprint of their project before they even think of ordering that stack of lumber and bottomless bag of nails. And yet so many of us craftsmen of stories plop our butts into a chair, wake our computers, and proceed to pound one word to another adhoc until we run out. At such time we then declare this unstable mess of words to be a story.



Of course, unlike that dream home or skyscraper, if a story collapses in on itself no one dies, though the reader may wish they had. But does there have to be life-and-death consequences at stake for the consumer before they should expect quality craftsmanship in the product they purchase? Certainly not.

Now given that I'm a self-proclaimed architect flunky turned student of the craft of novel writing for the past ten years who has had many a story come crashing down all around me, the reader and presumably fellow student of the craft is within their rights to dismiss what follows as they might a grain of salt. But before you do I should tell you that I did manage to craft at least one story that remained standing all on its own. And believe it or not, the darn thing may even be on a bookstore shelf near you.

Curiously, there is essentially only one difference between the many stories littering my office floor in heaps of collapsed rubble and the one standing tall atop a bookstore shelf. The many were built by blindly pounding one word to another, whereas the one was built by closely following a methodically conceived blueprint. And like any building's blueprint, my story's blueprint was crafted in layers, each layer a culmination of all preceding layers. And this is my grain of salt to you, the blueprint of a story.

Crafting a story is done from the inside out. And at the core of any story lies its premise. Thus, the first layer of the blueprint develops this premise, which functions much like a building's foundation. The four cornerstones of this foundation are the story's thematic elements (those subliminal messages the author wishes to communicate to the reader), the emotions it should evoke in the reader, novel ideas to be presented, and most importantly the stakes (hopefully worst case scenarios from both the protagonist's and antagonist's respective points of view). The second layer builds upon these cornerstones and establishes the story's climax. But the climax comes at the end of the story, you say. And that's like writing a story from back to front. It's also much like a builder who first renders an image of his finished project long before he breaks ground, or, in this case, the first scene is written. The craftsman must be able to envision his project in its completed form before he begins construction. Without worrying about details, create the best dramatic portrayal of the conflict between antagonist and protagonist while incorporating all four elements of the premise.

The next layer is that of the synopsis, or loose, chronological narrative of the plot. Starting with the rendered climax, work out toward the beginning and ends of the story, filling in all that's required to understand and feel the climax and to accept the consequences of the ending. From this layer move on to the scene-by-scene outline. Here the synopsis is segmented into specific scenes in whatever chronological order is necessary to obtain the desired emotional effect.

With the outline complete, the story is now ready for construction. It's time to write the manuscript; time to pound one word to another by following the blueprint or scene-by-scene outline.

And when that bag of words is finally empty don't hesitate to step back and let go of the story. Take it from an architect flunky. Your story may not become a bestseller, but because you crafted it from the inside out and from back to front it will stand on its own, perhaps even on a bookstore shelf near me.