You Can’t Hatch a Novel with a Full-Grown Chicken
You have a shiny new story idea. A little fragile baby bird, just hatched from your amazingly brilliant writer brain. This little idea is the kind that makes your heart flutter when you think about it. You’re excited to write it. To nurture it into a fully fledged novel.
But… the second you sit down to “figure it out,” the usual way by plugging plot points into a three-act outline, or other complex plotting framework. The characters you lovingly created while on a walk turn into cardboard cliches with quirks (because that’s what you were taught to do to make your characters different).
Your baby bird idea is suddenly crying out. Or, worse, has died altogether*.
*No birds were harmed in the writing of this article.
You try to resurrect it. Maybe a different plotting method. Maybe a different character worksheet. Will knowing my character’s birthday unlock something incredible I didn’t know about them yet?
Writers think they need a plan, but what they really need at this fragile stage is a vision. To be inspired. That baby bird idea just hatched. It doesn’t need a flight plan. It needs to be fed creativity, compassion, and heart.
Coming in hot with logistics and that left-brain attitude at this stage is like tossing that baby bird out of the nest and expecting it to soar. Throwing it out of the nest before it has feathers doesn’t mean it’s going to fly.
I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it.
I’ve tried soooo many plotting methods in my attempt to write cleaner first draft. They all smothered my idea with too much logic. They sapped the creativity out of the process that shouldn’t even be called a process. That’s far too Corporate America for what we’re doing. We’re creating.
The soul of my story became smothered. I carried on anyway, and in the end? I wrote a story that was as bland as unsalted potato chips. There was no story, if I’m honest. It was a series of events that took place with no heart.
I’ve watched clients lose the thread of their story because they never connected to it in the first place, and worse, got talked into adding things they didn’t want because they lacked conviction.
I’ve been on the receiving end of that, too. Writers I admired telling me what I should do. Losing sight of the story I wanted to tell, the one burning in my own heart.
None of this is uncommon.
In fact, most aspiring novelists (and anyone with a brand new idea) often jump too soon into plotting planning and scheming. They want to feel excited and confident by jumping in half-cocked (as my great great grandpa used to say). What happens though? They stall out before they even begin.
The baby bird is abandoned to the “Ideas” folder on their harddrive. Possibly to never see the light of day again.
It Doesn’t Have to End This Way
I’m here to change things. Your little baby bird story spark needs to be ignited. It needs to rise from the ashes of forgotten stories and unfurl its powerful wings!
The fire it needs starts with connection.
Because when you connect deeply with your story, nurturing it at the beginning instead of chopping it up into different parts of each act, or beat-ing it to death (hehe get it?) that’s when everything changes.
Writing becomes joyful again. The words start flowing. You finally feel like the writer you were meant to be.
The writer you are.
In this post, I’ll show you how to reconnect with your story using my simple E.G.G. Framework: Explore the Spark, Gestate the Idea, and Go Buck Wild. These strategies are powerful, playful, and the perfect antidote to creative paralysis and resurrecting your baby bird idea into the fiery phoenix it shall become!
Let’s crack this thing open!
Step 1: Explore the Spark
✨ Reconnect with what made you fall in love with your story in the first place.
Before you outline. Before you plan. Before you Google “story beats.” Go back to the spark. That first moment of inspiration when the idea hatched and whispered, “White me.” Think of the image, the feeling, the line of dialogue, or question that grabbed your writerly brain and lit a light inside of you.
This is your access point to flow. And when you return to it, you’re not just remembering your story, you’re remembering why it matters.
That emotional anchor is everything. It builds trust in your idea, and trust in yourself as a writer that your idea matters.
Here are some questions to help you explore your spark:
- What originally excited me about this story?
- What’s the scene I can’t wait to write?
- What feeling do I want the reader to walk away with?
- When and where did this idea come to me, and what was happening in my life at the time?
- Who was I with?
- What was I doing?
If you don’t remember the original spark, find the ember that still glows. Explore why this idea still excites you. What is it that makes you want to spend hundreds of pages writing it? Maybe it’s a line of dialogue, a character, or a mood. Whatever lights you up? Start there. Start where the fire is already smoldering.
💡 Bonus ideas to ritualize the connection:
- Make a playlist or pick a “theme song” for your story and listen to it at the beginning of every writing session.
- Create a small “story altar” with objects that remind you of your idea (or a mood board if you don’t have space).
- Re-read a scene you’ve already written, even if it’s messy. Or, write a scene you’re excited about, one that’s been haunting you and dragging you back to this idea over and over again.
One of the first steps I take with almost every client is guide them through revisiting their spark. Feeding their little bay bird from day one. We explore what it means and use it as your emotional compass going forward. If the spark is hard to find, together we’ll discover (or rediscover) what makes your story worth writing.
Why you are the one meant to write it.
Step 2: Get Away from it
✨ Let your story breathe before you wrangle it.
This is going to sound super counterintuitive, but sometimes the most productive thing you can do is pause.
If you’ve been forcing structure, making charts, or tweaking character arcs and effectively smothered your little baby bird?
It’s time to step away.
Let your idea incubate.
That’s when your subconscious gets to work solving problems, making connections, and dropping ideas into your brain when you least expect it. Usually when you have nothing to write with or your hands are covered in blood–I mean dirt– from gardening. Yeah. Gardening.
This isn’t procrastination. It’s creative composting.
Here’s how to do it:
- Pose a question to your story. Whatever you’re trying to figure out. I use this when I’m not sure what happens next while I’m writing, because the way I write my outlines is very loosey goosey and flexible. It leaves room for the imagination. Possible questions include:
- What happens next? Or first if you’re just starting out.
- What does Charles know about the bank that his partner doesn’t?
- How can I get Chad back to the storage unit? (real question for my current WIP)
- Walk away. Literally.
- Take a walk
- Wash dishes
- Take a bath or a shower
- Anything that causes your brain to dissociate, because that’s when creativity strikes!
- Let your mind wander. This opens your mind to insights.
- When you get insights (because you will!), write them down as soon as you can. Write the idea the way it came to you, write the full scene, write out a character description. Whatever came to you during this incubation, write it down. It’s a message from your muse!
Step 3: Go Buck Wild
✨ Use mind mapping and playful exercises to bust through blocks and rediscover joy.
I’m going to beat this dead horse* (sorry horse!).
*no horses were injured during the writing of this article
Outlines…sigh… let me just say a few things about them.
Full disclosure: I did start my writing life at age 6 as a pantser. Until I finally found the kind of outline that works for me and my brain, but I do not start there ever.
Outlines have a time and a place. As does any kind of structure (whether you all it an outline or a beat sheet or a plot point map or whatever).
But not yet.
Switching to a more logical brain while your creativity is running free like a nudist on a mountainside will take the joy out of this exploration.
So, forget outlines for a minute. We’re going to make this fun and playful.
Grab some markers, a notebook, or a whiteboard, and start mind mapping your way through the story with freedom of associations.
This is brainstorming with the brakes off. It’s not about organizing your ideas—it’s about letting them play.
Mind mapping activates the part of your brain that thrives on chaos and creativity. And it often leads to the kind of breakthroughs that rigid planning just can’t provide.
If the very idea of mind-mapping has your fingers withering into loose dead little fists* that refuse to hold a pen, never fear. I have a way to ease you into this
*no fists were harmed in the writing of this article.
Mind Mapping for the Mind Mapping Averse:
- Start with something you already know. Connections you’ve already made.
- Write the central word or image. Maybe your main character’s name. Maybe a location. Maybe “grief” or “revenge” or “freedom.” Whatever excites you right at this moment. Maybe that revelation your brain fed you while you were incubating..
- Circle it. Draw a box around it. Squiggle a line around it. Essentially, enclose it in some way, because when things get real wild on this piece of paper, that central thing might get lost in arrows, asterisks, exclamation points, other words circled over and over violently, paper tearing, sweat and tears, maybe some blood*… what were we doing?
- Draw lines out to ideas, feelings, scenes, settings, concepts.
- Doodle. Scribble. Use arrows and hearts and stars. Go wild.
- Follow what excites you. Definitely not what makes logical sense.
*no mind maps were harmed in the writing of this article.
You’ll start making emotional connections that weren’t clear before. You’ll see the shape of the story forming, not through force, but through curiosity, through play, through pure unadulterated nudist on a mountainside creativity.
I regularly use mind maps when I need to reconnect to my creativity to solve a story problem. I use them at the beginning of my story adventures to suss out hidden ideas I’m not yet aware of. Mind maps are often the “aha” moment I didn’t know I needed.
Planning doesn’t have to be about control. It can–and should–be about play.
How this actually helps you start writing
You might be wondering, “But how does this actually help me start writing or move forward???”
I know, right? It all sounds like avoidance behavior doesn’t it?
Probably because it’s fun. Playful. Maybe Adult You is scowling at that inner child that got repressed when you grew up and became society’s version of what an adult is supposed to be.
Here’s the thing… Writing is supposed to be fun.
If whatever you do to plot, plan or, outline doesn’t bring you joy?
Why are you doing it?
This is your permission slip to let go of what you’ve learned about planning a novel. To have fun, to bring back creative joy to your life. To play with stories the way you once did before you learned all the things about writing a book.
These E.G.G. steps help you connect. And connection fuels momentum. It gives your baby bird idea its first wings so when you do toss it out of the nest it will have a better chance at flying.
And when you know why your story matters through revisiting your spark, when you feel it buzzing again, when your characters start talking to you in the car… writing becomes natural. Even exciting.
Still skeptical? Try Step 1. Ask yourself what first excited you about this story. See what happens. I dare you! I double dog dare you.
I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.
One more time for the people in the back!
If you’ve tried outlining or plotting your novel to death* or are stuck in planning mode and lost the magic in your idea, try this instead:
- Explore the Spark – Reconnect with the emotion and excitement behind your idea.
- Gestate the Idea – Step away intentionally and let your subconscious do some heavy lifting.
- Go Wild with Fun – Use playful tools like mind maps to rediscover what your story wants to be.
*no novels were harmed in the writing of this article.
When you lead with connection, writing doesn’t feel like work. It feels fun, like it’s supposed to.
This is what becomes possible:
- You want to write. Your idea visits you at the most unexpected moments (or sends you messages, like my client Judalon who found a sand dollar on her front porch. She’s writing a nautically themed historical fantasy).
- You remember why this story matters and stay anchored when things get hard.
- You feel like a real writer, because you’re showing up, with joy, for the story that chose you.
- You can’t wait to get back to your computer, notebook, or stone tablet to write.
When you are truly connected to your idea, you radiate clarity and confidence. You show up differently–motivated, open, in flow. The story whispers to you throughout the day. The characters feel alive. Writing feels joyful instead of intimidating.
It’s not just about writing scenes. Oh no. It’s so much more than that.
It’s about building a relationship with your story.
Ready to fan the flames?
If your baby bird idea is still alive and peeping, or you’re ready to dig it out of the towel-lined shoe box and give it another lease on life… I’ve got you. The Story Compass is where we connect you to the soul of your story, so you can stop spiraling in spreadsheets and finally start writing something that feels right. It’s not a rigid outlining system. It’s not another character worksheet that makes you list their favorite salad dressing. It’s a gentle, flexible, feel-your-way-in approach that sparks creativity instead of smothering it. You’ll walk away with:
- A stronger connection to your story (and yourself as a writer)
- A flexible plan to guide you forward without killing your momentum
- And maybe, just maybe… the courage to start writing (or start writing again!)
Let’s revive that baby bird and turn it into the fiery little phoenix it was always meant to be.