Writers are often told to “describe the setting” as if place were a static backdrop, the equivalent of scenery in a play. A few sentences about weather, a glimpse of a street, a name of a town—and then on to the “real” action. But fiction that endures shows us something very different: setting is never passive. It shapes the story as profoundly as character and plot.

Most advice about pacing is frustratingly simple: keep it fast, keep it moving. But fiction isn’t a car chase. Pacing isn’t about how quickly you get to the end—it’s about how you control time inside the reader’s body.

Writers often fear that structure will stifle creativity, that once you start talking about arcs and acts and pyramids, the magic vanishes. But structure isn’t a cage — it’s scaffolding.

Structure holds the story steady while you climb. Painters use canvas; architects use blueprints; musicians use scales. Storytellers, too, have always leaned on shapes.

“Show, don’t tell.”

It’s probably the first piece of writing advice most of us hear. And it sounds simple enough: don’t state things directly, dramatize them instead. Yet if you follow the rule too literally, your prose will bloat with unnecessary detail. If you ignore it, your writing risks turning flat and lifeless.

Most beginner advice about point of view (POV) is delivered like a grammar worksheet. First person equals “I.” Second person equals “you.” Third person equals “he, she, they.” Memorize the chart, don’t mix them up, and you’re done.