Let’s Chat Story Stakes
Let’s chat for a bit about what’s important.
And by important I mean this: Why are the stakes of your story necessary, and how do you write them well?
To tackle the first part of that question, I’d like you to think for a minute about what, when you read books (we’re not getting into Writer Brain, yet), makes you buy-in to the plot and characters. A huge focus is most likely on how much you enjoy the protagonist, either because they’re likable from the jump or you can see their potential.
Maybe next you’re noticing the wordsmithing is quite lovely or that the dialogue is great. Pacing feels right. The technical boxes are being checked.
Characters and craft need to be well-done. Yet, what really gets us to invest in the plot—and be willing to stick with it until the end—is when we see that lovable protagonist with something to lose, genuinely. Or come face-to-face with an obstacle that can’t be dismissed easily. Or have an internal struggle we’re compelled to see them overcome.
These are also known as the story’s stakes, and here’s three things to consider when writing them.
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Stakes need to be real.
This is the first—and most obvious—detail to figure out. A reader isn’t going to invest in trouble that doesn’t match up with the world you’re building or the characters you’re introducing. The plot’s dilemma doesn’t need to be plucked out of the universe as we know it, but it needs to make sense in your fictional universe.
I’m going to use Brother Bear (2003) as my example because I just rewatched it the other night and what’s not to love about it? Though, it does have a shockingly low score on Rotten Tomatoes, and that’s criminal.
Anyway, the chief dilemma the MC, Kenai, faces is his transformation into a bear, which is a two-fold problem: He can’t magically change back into a man on his own, and his brother is hunting him because Denahi believes a bear killed Kenai. Compelling complications right at the surface of the story.
Now, does Kenai’s problem reflect an issue we see in the world today? Only if we’re speaking in metaphor. Yet, this totally unrealistic situation makes sense when we look at the storyworld.
There’s always the possibility an audience member could remain a skeptic and refuse to suspend their disbelief over the matter—but, for the most part, when people dive into a story, they want to believe. They want to feel immersed in the plot, conflict, and character development. As a writer, you can help them do that by presenting fictional problems that match the cues you provide in the first few chapters or paragraphs. You gotta help them begin to see how these troubles are very real for your storyworld.
2. Stakes need to be prioritized.
Any good story has layers. I’ve written about it in a previous blog post (“3 Lessons on Wooing a Reader”), so I won’t re-explain my thoughts on it now. I will, though, move that conversation further by saying layers—and the various stakes that are connected to them—need to be managed well. You need to discern which problem is the top priority and which problems may flare up every now and then to add texture and tension.
If we look back at Brother Bear, we’ve picked out the top problem—Kenai being turned into a bear and being unable to turn back—yet many more emerge. Koda, a young cub, comes into the picture and suddenly Kenai can’t shake this kid. What is at first an annoyance becomes a complicated dynamic as he learns more of Koda’s story and the reason behind why this cub is without its mother. Now here’s something Kenai hadn’t known would be at stakes at the beginning of the story: A brother relationship with this pesky, little bear child.
Or let’s look at the two moose, Rutt and Tuke, who are thrown in for some comic relief. At one point, while Kenai and Koda are on their way to an important bear gathering called the Salmon Run, Rutt and Tuke decide they’ll be traveling, too. Somehow their mode of transportation winds up being a great, big mammoth. Don’t ask me how; that’s information viewers are not privy to. Well, their problem soon becomes that they’re stuck on the mammoth. Again, don’t ask me how.
Managing priorities means we can see this last problem with the moose is not nearly as deserving of attention as, say, the bear transformation thing or the question of what really happened with Koda’s mother. When the moose aren’t on the screen, we’re not at the edge of our seats wondering if they’ll figure themselves out. We’re also not bored out of our minds watching their struggle and anxious to get back to Kenai and Koda.
In your writing, this means taking a step back and assessing things like:
What problem is providing momentum and driving the plot?
What problem have I introduced that, if left unattended, has actual consequences for my characters and the world they live in?
Who or what is this story really about?
The last question becomes important to readers as they go, as they understand characters, themes, and action. Because, again, looking at Kenai, viewers start off thinking that bear transformation sure is an issue…until you start to understand what the story is communicating regarding themes of brotherhood and love. There’s a certain point when I watch this movie that my investment switches from I hope Kenai finds a way to be human again to I hope Kenai can figure out how to be a brother to both Denahi and Koda, no matter his physical form.
Balancing your stakes can make all the difference to how a reader stays invested, even if their outlook evolves.
3. Stakes need to keep readers guessing.
If a problem is introduced and, in a short amount of time, I can see how it’s going to be resolved way before it’s time to conclude, that’s a problem. Translucent issues make for flimsy stories. Doesn’t matter if the characters are delightful. Doesn’t matter if the worldbuilding is cool and immersive. Seeing the ending prematurely is extremely dissatisfying.
This doesn’t mean you must weave a plot so confusing and mysterious that no one can predict the ending. There is nothing wrong with foreshadowing and planting seeds. You want to bring the reader along with you the whole way. Revelations should unfold at an appropriate pace. Not too soon to make readers get ahead and reach the next plot point before you’re ready for them to, yet also not out of the blue or muddled so readers have to backtrack to try and make sense of how they got there.
So, pacing is one thing, as well as effective use of foreshadowing. But also this: Readers should be coming up with feasible solutions as they read, and they should reach the ending with curiosity about which of their hunches might be correct. To keep a reader confidently guessing until the end is key.
In Brother Bear, we know there’s magic that can help Kenai with what he needs; we just don’t know how or if he’ll make it in time. The solution, then, feels a little out of grasp but not out of possibility. And because I can’t see the resolution with any great clarity, I watch (and now re-watch) to see how it all will come together and tie up.
The stakes don’t whimsically or happily tie up, either. Just because we get to the end doesn’t mean that everything’s perfectly settled and the bears are riding off into the sunset together. Usually, with stakes, something is lost. Even if it the ending wraps up on a positive note, characters or the world have experienced things or maybe made sacrifices that leave them changed.
I’m getting into a different topic now, one of conclusions and how to write them well, but that’s for another time. I leave you with these thoughts on stakes, and, if you have additional tips about this, please do comment below and share your advice with us!
Happy writing, friends, and I wish good luck to your characters as they face whatever fictional problems you’re creating for them.