3 Things Your Outline Is Missing (And How to ACE Your Story)

Here you are again. You have a story idea. You know it’s awesome!

You’ve taken what you learned about outlining and likely thought deeply about inciting incidents, crossing thresholds, and dark nights of the soul (among other multitudinous things to include in an outline).

You have a satisfying climax 😏and your denouement wraps things up nice and tidy (as tidy as possible anyway) with so much satisfaction, you give it a chef’s kiss.

Congratulations, you have a plot!

But… 

Do you have a story?

“Claire! What’s the difference?” you cry from the other end of the internet (or from my back porch, you stalker you).

Well, my friend, here’s the thing.

A plot does not make a story a Story (with the coveted capital S). A plot shows you what’s possible for your story. It shows you what could happen in your story. And yes, it does link together what appears to be a plausible development of events. 

But without a few key elements, it may not quite hold together in the end. 

And by hold together? I mean, it may not keep your reader engaged, and just as importantly, it may not keep you engaged. 

If you’re missing even one of three foundational elements I’ll be talking about in this article, there’s a decent chance you may lose steam before reaching the end of Act One, or get mired in the murky middle, or get lost at some point along the path toward The End. You might reach a time while drafting where even you lose interest in what was once the amazing plot you poured your heart and soul into. You may even pause to question what even is the point (likely wailing in despair).

It’s all because most outlining techniques out there teach writers to focus on what happens, not why it matters.

Your outline should provide the emotional, structural, and motivational skeleton of your story. 

The ins. The outs. The in-betweens. The motivations and desires of your character that dictate how they’ll respond in any given situation, and that response is warranted and on the page.

I’ve seen this over and over again with my clients, and even with my own attempts at outlining in the past: A string of scenes with no real deep down connection. 

It doesn’t mean we’re bad writers. It just means we haven’t learned yet what turns that list of events into a real boy… I mean story.

What’s probably happening falls into three common outlining mishaps. These mishaps come from thinking plot first, character second. Or they come from creating characters who look real but don’t feel real. And that is exactly what’s keeping your story from becoming the compelling adventure it’s meant to be.

The good news? You won’t need to throw away everything you’ve already done and start from scratch. All you need to do is shift how you think about outlining (and your outline in particular) and dig in to find your story’s soul.

If you’re ready to write a book that races through the murky middle on to The End like a race car on the Nuremberg (rather than a VW Beetle through a swamp) and stop feeling like there’s something missing, even if you can’t name what that is, it’s time to take a different approach.

One that is moved by your protagonist’s transformation (big or little, it doesn’t matter).

One that creates real momentum.

One that makes every scene matter.

But before we dive into what needs to be added to make that kind of story magic happen, we need to look at what might be getting in your way.

Because let’s be real. A lot of us were taught to outline by well-meaning, but boring, English Lit instructors who made “The Five-Paragraph Essay” feel like the height of creative storytelling. (Spoiler alert: it’s not.)

Here are the three most common pitfalls I see in client outlines (and my own before I learned what a real story actually needs). Whether you’re at the idea stage or knee-deep in a messy draft or even already at the end and don’t know why your critique group isn’t falling head over heels for your book. 

And, if you’ve fallen into any of these outlining traps, don’t worry. You’re in great company (and I have a rope, a multi-tool, and a super strong will to pull you out of that pit!)

Ready? Let’s go!

Mishap #1: You’re Listing Scenes Like a To-Do List

Mishap number one is the most common one I see in manuscript evaluations when it’s “too late” to make minor fixes and test the outcome.

What happens is, the writer strings together a list of scenes that appear to flow chronologically. Great! But do they actually flow?

If things are just happening around the main character, the chances are you’re missing narrative drive, which is the momentum created by the emotional connection your character has with the story.

For example, let’s look at some lyrics from Johnny Socko’s “Rousing Theme Music”:

• Scene 1: Boy meets girl.
• Scene 2: Boy falls in love with girl.
• Scene 3: Boy runs girl over in his driveway. 

Let’s break it down. 

Boy meets girl? Naturally leads to him falling in love with her for sure. 

But does falling in love cause him to run her over in the driveway? 

That’s where this three line story breaks down. 

(Also, if you know this song, let me know! It’s super obscure!)

Here’s the thing: even when events are technically in order, that doesn’t mean they’re connected.

When you outline without an emotionally driven connection, it’s easy to treat your story like a checklist, not a chain reaction. There’s no cause-and-effect momentum, and readers can feel that. Your story starts to feel more like a highlight reel than a living, breathing journey.

If your reader wonders why they should care… 

They will stop reading.

Back in 2007 or so, I decided to ditch pantsing and try outlining. I wanted a cleaner first draft and scoured all my books on plotting and came up with an outline I was proud to call my own.

I wrote the book.

I sent the finished draft to my twin sister. My number one fan! The one person I knew would not wreck me with criticism.

She told me it was boring. 

(And effectively crushed my soul into a quivering pulp).

By now, you know why it was boring.

But I’ll tell you again anyway for funsies. 

I had strung together a list of scenes. 

There was no actual story behind those scenes.

Mishap #2: You’re Treating Plot Points Like Checkpoints

Checkpoints always make me think of Donkey Kong Country, one of my all-time favorite Super Nintendo games.

Every level had these barrel checkpoints you’d smash, and the second I saw that barrel with the stars on it on the right edge of the screen, I would exhale the breath I’d been holding up until that point. 

Because, as soon as you broke open that star barrel, that marked your progress in that level. If you died, which you would because games back then were brahootal (brutal), you would respawn at that checkpoint. They usually showed up after a particularly heinous section.

So convenient.

But, it gave you the illusion of strategy and progress.

The fact was? You were still stuck in the same level.

A lot of outlines work the same way. Hitting checkpoints like Kong hitting those star barrels.

You hit your inciting incident. BING!
Your first turning point. BANG!

Midpoint. BOOM!

You’re bouncing through those plot barrels like a champ, moving your story ever closer to The End.

Forward progress! Tally ho! Go you!

Maybe you even pound your chest Donkey Kong style!

But… Your character isn’t shifting.

The story isn’t deepening.

The stakes aren’t escalating.

Plot points aren’t barrels to bounce through so you can say you checked the box. They’re turning points. They should shift the trajectory of your character’s arc or change how the reader understands what’s at stake.

If your story just hops from beat to beat without causing internal or external change, you’re not building momentum. You’re just surviving the level.

And here’s what happens when you do that:

➡️ Your story becomes reactive instead of active.
➡️ Your character feels like a passenger in their own arc.
➡️ The events feel random, even if they’re technically in the “right” spot.

What’s missing? Your character’s emotional and motivational why behind every move.

Mishap #3: Your Character Is Reacting to the Plot Instead of Driving It

This probably isn’t the first time I’ve talked about this kind of thing and it won’t be the last! Most fiction writers have been trained to think plot first, character second. Or, they’ve been trained to develop characters using profile charts your DnD friends would be proud of. 

This may be an unpopular opinion… but… 

Your character’s birthday won’t tell you how they’ll respond to being trapped in an elevator with their stalker. The color of their hair and eyes won’t help them get up the gumption to go down into the cellar where their childhood monster lives. And their relationship with some distant relative won’t help them solve the murder (unless said distant relative is the killer or plays a pivotal role in some way).

Now, I’m not saying you must not build your character sheets if that’s your process. I’m also not saying that you must start with character. Heaven knows I don’t typically write that way. 

But if your characters don’t carry the weight of the story on their backs like the Junk Lady from The Labyrinth who gives my sister nightmares?

…your reader may not care enough to stick with your story.

The reason? Your character isn’t supposed to be buried by the story (or their complicated history, relationships, birth sign, job history, etc.). They’re supposed to be carrying it.

When your protagonist is just reacting to whatever’s thrown at them, or worse, just being dragged along by plot events, they become more puppet than person.

The story starts happening to them, instead of because of them.

And this is exactly what causes the dreaded “murky middle.”
There’s no internal arc pulling things forward.
No agency. No momentum. Just a character bent under the weight of everything but purpose.

A compelling protagonist doesn’t carry junk. They carry meaning.

If you want your reader to follow your character through the Bog of Eternal Stench of Act Two, give them a reason to walk into it.

It’s Time to ACE Your Story!

I’ve been known to say there is no wrong way to write a book, and I stand by that 100%, but there are small tweaks you can make to your scene list style plot that’ll turn that list into an actual Story. 

Or, if you’re anything like pre-certification me, it’ll keep you from wandering off script and then working overtime to wrangle your characters back into your plot outline… whether it makes sense or not.

I’m not saying you can’t follow forks in the road and rabbit trails in your plot. 

I’m saying: be intentional about which ones you do follow, and why.

Now when I wander off script, it still makes sense and it still works.

All because of ACE: Arc, Cause & Effect, and Emotional Meaning. These are the three essential elements most outlines are missing. And once you have them, the story will damn near write itself.

Let’s break it down!

A is for Arc: Build Your Character’s Internal Journey

Your protagonist shouldn’t just be doing things, they should be becoming someone new. That’s their arc, and their arc should be the backbone of your novel, not your scene list.

So, what is the character arc?

Your character starts the story believing one thing about themselves or the world, and by the end, they’ve changed. 

Simple as that.

Maybe they grow. Maybe they break. Maybe they hold steady and change the people around them. But either way, their internal shift is what gives your story meaning.

As a book coach, this is one of the first things I help clients uncover, even before we start talking about plot and what actually happens in the story. We start with a few exercises to create an emotional connection between writer and idea, then we jump into character by starting with: Who do they become?

From there, we work backwards to determine who they must be at the beginning.

And that, my friend, is your character’s arc.

Take Charles, my beloved bank robber who shows up in all my examples. 

If the point of the story is that “family matters more than money,” then Charles can’t start the book already believing that. He has to begin as someone who believes money is love, and whose greedy choices cost him his family. Watching him learn that lesson (through cause and effect, through emotional weight, through change) is the story.

Without an arc, your character can still do things along the path your story takes them. Your reader may still follow them. But they won’t root for them. They won’t care about them. They may not even finish the hundreds of pages you wrote for them.

And in the end? They may not even remember your character, let alone your story.

Isn’t that the whole point? To write an unforgettable story with characters your reader never wants to let go?

I think it is!

C is for Cause & Effect: Create Narrative Momentum

If your character’s arc is the backbone, the cause and effect are the nervous system. It’s what turns a series of scenes into a story.

When I read a client’s outline or draft and the scenes feel disconnected, random, or like they’re free floating like a bunch of balloons in the wind, it’s usually because there’s no clear cause and effect holding things together. 

One thing happens, and then another thing happens… but not because of what came before.

This is where I bust out the “Because that, this” outline (an exercise we do in Clarity & Confidence!). It’s a super simple but super effective tool for spotting missing links in your outline. If you can’t draw a line between two moments using “because of that,” chances are, something’s super off.

Let’s go back to Charles, our favorite bank robber.
If we say: “Charles robs a bank. Because of that, he starts working at a gas station….”

I’m sorry… what?

That’s not cause and effect. That’s Rando Plotpointsian (aka: random plot points).

But if we say: “Charles robs a bank. Because of that, he gets caught, serves time, and is released just in time for his daughter’s birthday…”
Now there’s logic. There’s purpose. There’s… cause 👏 and 👏effect 👏!

Every scene should cause the next one to happen. 

And these happenings should be driven by your character’s actions, decisions, beliefs, or even their inaction or disbelief! 

When your protagonist causes the story to happen, they stay in the driver’s seat. When they don’t? The plot just kind of happens around them. (Which, to be honest, feels boring).

When writers build cause and effect into their outlines, something clicks. They can finally see what comes next, or why things fell apart. 

They stop trying to force scenes together like mismatched puzzle pieces, and start building a clear, cohesive path forward.

One believable, character-driven step at a time.

E is for Emotional Meaning: Make Every Moment Matter

If cause and effect moves the story forward, emotional meaning gives it purpose. Every scene shouldn’t just lead to the next. Every scene should also matter to your protagonist.

That’s what makes readers care. That’s what makes your story linger after the final page.

That’s emotional meaning. 

It’s the why behind the what. 

Your character isn’t just a puppet moving through a plot. They have a reason to be in this story. They have a personal stake, a desire, a fear, a belief that gives weight to every single thing they do. 

And when that’s missing? The reader feels it. 

The character’s choices seem random, or worse, confusing. You might hear readers (or critique partners) ask, “Why did they do that?” and that right there is your sign that emotional meaning is missing.

A lot of writers do know the emotional meaning behind their scenes… they just don’t put it on the page.

Maybe they’re afraid of overwriting. Maybe they think readers will just “get it.” But if we don’t see the motivation through internal thoughts, dialogue, and decisions that make sense, we don’t feel connected. 

The emotional layer stays hidden.

We don’t feel the pull or the drive to cheer for this character to succeed.

When a scene matters to the character, it shows. Their actions align. Their reactions feel authentic. Their voice gets stronger. 

And that’s what makes your story compelling: not just what happens, but why it matters to your protagonist.

Want an example? Let’s check in with Charles again.

Here’s a random line I pulled out of thin air to show how this looks in concept:
“Charles didn’t go into the vault, but Ian did and came out with a duffel bag full of cash.”

Cool. Fine. Whatever. Do you care? I don’t.

But now let’s add just a touch of emotional meaning:
“Charles didn’t go into the vault this time. Last time he did that, he learned his lesson. 

Three to five years.

Three to five years in the slammer. Three to five years away from Gloria. And look what that cost him. A lost marriage and a daughter who didn’t recognize him anymore. Ian came out of the vault with the duffel bag full of cash…”

Boom, baby. Now we get it. We feel the stakes. And it only took a couple lines, not a paragraph of overwritten exposition!

When clients find the emotional core of their story and finally understand why each moment matters to their character, they light up. They get excited. Scenes become richer. Subtext appears out of nowhere. The story deepens.

And that’s the difference between a novel that’s technically fine… and one that grabs the reader by the heart and refuses to let go.

How ACE Works Together

Each element of ACE is powerful on its own, and when they work together? That’s when the real story magic happens.

Your character’s arc is the spine of the story. It’s the transformation you’re building toward. It’s the emotional truth your reader is hanging around for hundreds of pages to witness and take part in. 

But that arc doesn’t exist in a vacuum. It’s shaped by what your character does (or doesn’t do) and why they do it.

That’s where cause and effect comes in. Every action your character takes should lead to the next thing that pushes them further down the path of change. The story unfolds not just because “stuff happens,” but because they make stuff happen. Their beliefs and disbeliefs, actions and inactions, desires and repulsions, and yes, even their mistakes and small victories, set the plot in motion.

However, those choices only matter if they carry emotional meaning. If the reader doesn’t know why your character is doing something and what’s at stake for them personally, then it won’t make sense. The plot might move, but the reader won’t care (or they’ll be horribly confused). Emotional meaning makes those choices resonate. It makes the character feel relatable and real. 

It’s what makes the reader stay up too late saying, “One more chapter… I must know what happens next!”

That’s the power of ACE. It doesn’t just help you build a plot. It helps you create a story with emotional depth, forward momentum, and character-driven transformation.

And I’ll say it again, because this is the key:

Knowing how your character will respond in a given situation (cause & effect) because the scene matters to them (emotional meaning) will shift them toward who they are meant to become (arc).

That’s not just a story. That’s a story with soul.

What kind of story do you want to tell?

If you’re ready to tell a compelling story with soul, purpose, and meaning, the Story Compass is your next step.

Inside, you’ll get tools to help you connect more deeply with your story, build a rock-solid narrative spine (hi, ACE!), and finally write the novel you’re proud to talk about, finish, and publish.

Case in point:

Client J came to me unsure of what was “wrong” with her draft. After working through the workbook inside Clarity & Confidence, she didn’t just fix her outline, she rediscovered her excitement for the entire story and was able to come up with new fresh ideas for her character to take initiative and drive the story forward.

Now we’re building an outline together that has purpose, momentum, and heart. That manuscript she avoided for months? It’s turning into something truly amazing! You might even say, compelling.

What’s Possible When You ACE Your Outline?

✨ You’ll finish your draft with purpose and momentum.
✨ You’ll write scenes that connect emotionally and logically.
✨ You’ll fall back in love with your story and stay in love all the way to “The End.”

Ready to stop second-guessing your outline and finally write a novel that works?

Book a Story Compass today and discover the story you really want to tell!