Why do you write? Is it because it’s fun? Is it because you want to make money? Do you want to be famous, with lines of people waiting to get your signature on their hardcover edition of your novel?

I write because I have something to say.

Writing because it’s fun is a waste of time. Writing because you want to get rich and famous is irrational. To write well, you must write with a satisfactory purpose. This is where theme enters the stage. Theme is the underlying topic of your story. It’s your personal message to the reader. When the reader turns the last page, they’ll be forced to think about your theme and its implications. Novels worth their word count will leave an imprint on the mind of the reader through the theme.

But first: why do you need a theme in your story? Can’t it just be entertaining? Novels that lack a definable theme are not worth the time they take to read. They are like a huge pile of marshmallow fluff: tasty, sweet, and completely unsatisfying. Unless you want to write a forgettable story that only serves to dull the mind of the reader, please include a theme.

Stories that contain a strong theme are always thought-provoking and meaningful. Unfortunately, poor literature and films have given themes a bad name. These stories contain themes that are thought-provoking and worthy–but they aren’t delivered correctly. The themes are shoved at the audience and often include some type of altar-call, creating a preachy effect where the audience is left gagging at the message that was forced down their throats.

So how do you include a theme without being preachy?

The theme needs to be subtle enough to disallow a sententious story-line, but clear enough to force the reader to think. It sounds more complicated than it is. To keep from delivering a preachy theme, don’t include any obvious challenge to the reader. Don’t explicitly state your theme, or include a paragraph of prose or character dialogue praising it. To convey a clear theme, do make the story revolve in some way around the theme. Do allow the theme to affect the characters and their transformation arcs.

As a writer, you walk a fine line between entertaining and challenging. Themes must be dealt with subtly, or the reader will set down the book in irritation at the sermons. My favorite way of developing theme is through characters. You can expose the theme through their actions, reactions, dialogue, and the way they view the world. For example, if your theme is courage, you can display the theme in the journey of a cowardly character who learns to be brave. A theme can be displayed through a character’s value as well.

Theme can also be portrayed through plot. Like I stated before, your plot should revolve in some visible way around the theme. If you’re writing a theme of friendship, you should probably include a point of conflict in your plot where the value of friendship is demonstrated (through conflict, contrast, etc). My novel Virago is centered around a few themes: honesty, sacrifice, and love. The main conflict in the plot comes from a character’s dishonesty. Through the revelation of the character’s lies, the heroine learns how much her family sacrificed to keep her safe–and thus learned that love is worth the sacrifice.

If you’re having trouble thinking of a theme on your own, here’s a list of commonly used themes to prompt your imagination.

Coming of age

Compassion (vs apathy)






Human nature

Humility (vs pride)

Illusion of control



Knowledge (vs ignorance)



Pain of war


Political (capitalism, socialism, fascism, etc)


Power of words


Seven deadly sins (avarice, envy, gluttony, lust, pride, sloth, wrath)


True beauty

Unpredictability of the future

When picking your theme, choose one that means something to you–your passion will seep between the lines and bring the values to life. Remember to keep it subtle, but clear.

You have something to say, so say it.

The Three Building Blocks of Character

The five elements of literature are the foundation of good stories. Character, plot, theme, setting, and point of view must be executed well for readers to be involved. The first, character, is defined by three building blocks: internals, externals, and personality.

Internals are composed of backstory, motives, and values.

Backstory is more than the character’s life story. It’s not just genealogy or major events. Take a look at yourself. Why do you do things the way you do? I love dogs, but someone who was chased by a vicious hound when they were five might not feel the same way. In its simplest form, backstory is an explanation. Why your character’s personality is formed the way it is. (Note: backstory is not personality. We’ll get into that in a moment.)

Next on the list is motives. Everyone acts for a reason. Without motives, you might as well stop trying. No one believes a hero who acts only because he “feels like it.” While that might be true in real life, it doesn’t stand in fiction. Your hero must do things for something. This comes in with values.

Values are the last on the list of internals. They are the “what” to the “why” of motives. So your character must have motive… but what? A value. Something as simple as justice or as complex as true beauty, it doesn’t matter. Your character must have a driving force, something he believes with all his heart. The value makes or breaks the character. They’re not going to believe in whim or boredom. They’ll believe in love, hope, or courage. Something intangible and worth fighting for.

Let’s take a look at one of my favorite characters, the Doctor (BBC Doctor Who).

The Doctor comes from a rough background. He nearly had to destroy his own race just to stop them from ripping the universe apart. He’s watched a lot of people, people he loved, die; some of those deaths were even his fault. And that shapes him into a determined, lonely man bent on helping others and trying to make up for the things he feels guilt over. That’s the Doctor’s backstory.

The Doctor doesn’t act on whim (unless he’s visiting a planet or constellation–but that’s not the area where motives are necessary). When his story incites, he finds something to fight for and he fights for it. Thus, the Doctor has motive.

His motive is determined by love and compassion. He doesn’t want to see someone hurt like he has, so he struggles for these values because he knows they’re worth it. He fights for love when he saves Earth (countless times), because Earth is special to him. He fights for compassion when he saved Cyril in The Doctor, The Widow, and The Wardrobe.

Next on the list are externals.

Externals are composed of physical appearance, social rank, and economic status.

Physical appearance is the most obvious. Height, weight, eye and hair colors–these are all elements of physical appearance that help readers form an image. When describing your character, don’t go overboard. Your readers don’t need to know insignificant details, so stick to the basics: hair, eye color, height, basic physical build, and any unique, defining features. But hold up–you can’t dump all that information on your reader at one time, or they’ll start snoozing. It’s best to let descriptions build over time. Hair color one scene, a chapter later, you can include physical build. Think of it as an onion: peel back your character in layers.

Social rank is next. Is your character royalty, or are they an orphaned street urchin? How does society view them? How do they view society? This will generally have a large impact on your story, so be sure to give it thought. A character who is viewed well by society will probably have a reciprocal image, and vice versa.

Finally, economic status is material benefits. Your character’s job, monetary wealth, and living conditions are all a part of this. This ties in with social rank: if your character is a king, he probably has access to a horde of wealth. However, if he’s struggling to make ends meet even though he lives in a dumpy apartment in the middle of the poorest part of town, he probably is poor.

For externals, we’ll look at Katniss Everdeen (The Hunger Games).

She’s average height, with a strong build. In the book, she’s described as having olive skin and black hair (though that didn’t transfer in the movie). Suzanne Collins does excellent with descriptions of Katniss: we know basically what she looks like, but the details that are included are significant. Katniss is strong, which is necessary for her to win the Games. She has black hair and olive skin, the typical looks of anyone from District 12. Other than that, Collins allows the reader let Katniss come alive in their imagination.

On the ladder of society, Katniss is just a step from bottom. She’s inconsequential to those with money or power, until she enters the Games. Once she wins the Games, Collins pulls a fantastic flip. Katniss is now wealthy and loved by those in power, but she still adheres to her old life in District 12.

In The Hunger Games, Katniss starts at the bottom. She’s dirt poor, risking her life (by entering her name more times) just to feed her family. And then, in Catching Fire, another flip. She goes from poor to rich. Her job has changed–no longer does she hunt for her family’s needs (though it still occupies her free time). Her ‘job’ consists of playing it right for the Capitol.

Last, but perhaps the most important, is personality.

Personality is built on positives, negatives, and quirks.

Go examine your favorite character and make a list of a few positive character traits. Things like honesty, loyalty, and courage all fall under the category of positive character traits. They’re necessary, even to your bad-boy biker. Without at least one positive trait, a character seems irritatingly wrong. Every single person you meet will always have positive traits, even the meanest person you know.

Negative character traits are the polar opposite of positives. Whereas honesty is a positive, lying is a negative. Courage versus cowardice. (Wait, why are they necessary? Aren’t heroes supposed to be good?) Look around and pick out one person you know who never, ever displays any fault. Characters must mimic reality, and no realistic person is perfect. Positive and negative traits must balance each other out, or characters will fall flat. With positives and negatives, you can (if you’d like) create complexes that generate conflict. For example, if your hero’s positive is honesty, you can create internal conflict by giving him a negative of cowardice. So he loves being honest… but he’s terrified of offending others.

My personal favorite is the quirks. These are mostly superficial, like a slight tick or stutter. They give your character the final shade of realism. A quirk can be anything from a limp to social anxiety.

Finally, for personality, we’ll look at Rudy Steiner (The Book Thief).

Rudy is my favorite literary friend. He’s just a good friend. His positives are loyalty and love. He’s loyal to Liesel, and loves her incredibly.

The negatives that balance Rudy’s positives are fairly numerous, but I’ll limit it to two: his chronic thieving and narrow focus. So, while he’s loyal and loving, he’s also addicted to stealing, and his irritatingly dogged focus means once he’s fixated on something, it is the only thing on which he can focus.

Rudy’s quirk is my favorite part of him. When I first read about the Jesse Owens incident, I had to put The Book Thief down so I could hold my sides and laugh. That’s Rudy’s quirk: his obsession with American athlete Jesse Owens. This quirk lends itself nicely to the story, creating both conscious and subconscious conflict: an Aryan boy obsessed with a black athlete is going to burn some throats on the way down.

When you drop Internals, Externals, and Personality into a bowl and mix thoroughly, a three-dimensional character will pop out. It won’t be easy, but that’s writing. These characters become real people, to both the author and the audience. Have fun with it.