Originally written for Swallowed by a Whale: How to Survive the Writing Life, edited by Huw Lewis-Jones and published by The British Library in 2020, this version was updated in 2026.
1. There are stories inside all of us.
We’re made of them. We’ve been fed them since we were babies. We’ve heard them, read them, and watched them dance around us. They swirl in our souls. If we open ourselves up and stand out of their way, they flow from us as something new and beautiful and unique.
2. Trust your story.
Give your story time and space to grow and explore. Let it wander and experiment and get things wrong. Let it be silly and serious. Let it be pragmatic and soulful. Let it sit and stew. Let it fall apart and pull itself together again. Eventually, it will become the story it needs to be. Because stories know what they are.
3. Feed your story.
Stories need nourishment. They like beauty, fresh air and conversation. They like books, folktales and legends; theatres, cinemas and museums; art and music. And they need love. Stories are vulnerable things. To grow into themselves, they need encouragement and love.
4. Give your story immediate attention.
If a story is itching inside you, now is the time to write it. Don’t wait for a new notebook, or a nice quiet writing space, or for something else in your life to begin or end. Write NOW. Write HERE. On a scrap of a paper on a busy bus. Write, in all the moments you can.
5. Play with your story.
Play with its words, its sentences and structure, its rhyme and rhythm and the cadence of its voice. Play with its punctuation. Speak it. ♪ Sing it ♪. Decorate it, doodle around it. Ride the rollercoaster of its bumpy paragraphs and swim through its smooth chapters. Watch how your story splits and flows.
6. Let your story be emotional.
Write with your heart and soul. Laugh, cry, sob with despair, growl in anger, tingle with anticipation, quake in fear, recoil in disgust, swell and soar with happiness. Write with feeling. Write to feel something. Write to release your feelings, to understand them. Pour your emotions into your story, lay them bare upon the page. Look at them, see how they give your story life.
7. Don’t be ashamed of your story …
With stories, there is no right or wrong. There are no rules. Let your story be your story. Let it be unique. Be wary of fear of judgement curtailing your creativity.
… But do think carefully. About appropriation, misinformation, stereotypes and isms. Stories are powerful, they can both harm and heal. Research. Talk. Listen. Think.
8. Don’t lose yourself in a story.
Come up for air. Look at the stars and the sea, the raindrops and the puddles. Don’t forget the people you love. Because they are the real story.
9. When a story drains your creativity, refill the well.
Stories are greedy. They can take and take and take, and leave you feeling empty. But they can never take it all. There will always be an ember of creativity left. And you can fan this back to life with a breath, a walk, a swim. Don’t panic when your creative energies fade. It’s a natural cycle. In time, they will return.
10. When it’s time to edit your story, be bold, be brave.
For a story to become the best it can be, it will need editing. And this may hurt. It may involve deleting beautiful words and well-structured sentences, poetic paragraphs and charming chapters. Maybe even whole characters who feel like old friends. They aren’t necessarily bad or wrong. Perhaps they are in the wrong place at the wrong time. Perhaps they were scaffolding for the story – vital at the time of construction, but not needed anymore. It can be hard to say goodbye, but for your story to fly it must shake off those downy feathers.
11. Let your story surprise you.
Lay a place at the table for an unexpected guest. Embrace the unforecasted storm. Allow kind characters to do something cruel. Let the selfish ones sacrifice themselves for the greater good. Be surprised. Be amazed. And if you set out to write ten tips on working with stories, let them be eleven.
Sophie Anderson 