On Writing Techniques: A Guide for Writers Everywhere

As you may know, I’ve spent the better part of this year trying to figure out how to edit my manuscript. That’s high-key why I’ve been talking about writing a book a lot. Because I’m living it, and it’s been…a journey (to put it lightly).

And here’s what I’ve learned: no matter how brilliant your plot is, if you can’t execute it well, it falls flat. The difference between a story that keeps you up at night and one you abandon on page 50? Writing techniques.

When you read a book that pulls you in completely—where you forget you’re reading words on a page—that’s not magic. It’s the result of carefully deployed writing techniques that skilled authors have mastered. Things like show don’t tell, sensory detail, active voice, character voice, POV choices…the list goes on.

Writing is an art form, sure. But it’s also a craft. And craft means understanding the methods and strategies that bring stories to life. And in this blog, we’ll take a closer look at the different writing techniques and how they can transform your story.

What Are Writing Techniques (And Why Do They Matter)?

Now, before we begin, let’s understand what writing techniques are. This is critical, especially if you’re a newbie who’s liked writing but weren’t formally trained (like me)

Writing techniques are the tools and methods writers use to bring their stories to life. Think of them as the difference between telling someone “she was sad” versus showing her staring at her phone, refreshing a message that never comes, while rain drums against the window.

These techniques aren’t arbitrary rules invented by English teachers to make your life harder. They’re patterns that have emerged over centuries of storytelling—methods that consistently create emotional impact, build tension, and keep readers turning pages. Here’s what writing techniques actually do:

• Create immersion: They pull readers into your world through sensory detail and vivid description.
• Build connection: They help readers care about your characters and their journeys
• Control pacing: They determine whether your story drags or races.
• Evoke emotion: They make readers feel something, which is the whole point.
• Sharpen your prose: They eliminate fluff and make every sentence count.

The techniques we’re covering today range from foundational elements we’ve talked about often (like show don’t tell) to advanced strategies (like subverting clichés and controlling narrative distance). Either way, understanding why these techniques work will level up your writing.

The Different Types of Writing Techniques

So, now that we know what writing techniques are and why they matter, let’s take a closer look at the different types.

1. Sensory Writing

When readers recall a story that truly resonated with them, they often remember the richness of the world. And the best way to create that richness? Sensory details that go beyond just what characters see and hear. Most writers often default to visual and auditory descriptions because that’s what we’re trained to notice. But activating the often-neglected senses: smell, taste, and touch adds immense dimension to your work and truly immerses your readers in the scene.

Smell

Smell is incredibly powerful because it’s tied directly to memory and emotion. A carefully invoked scent can transport readers instantly to a specific moment or place.

George R.R. Martin does this in A Song of Ice and Fire. He doesn’t just describe a feast, he describes the smell of roasted meat and fresh bread, the sourness of wine, the stench of the kennels below. When describing King’s Landing in summer, he layers in the reek of the city—fish markets, tanneries, chamber pots emptied into streets. These details make the world tangible and real.

Taste

Taste works similarly to smell; it evokes visceral, shared responses. Don’t just tell us the character ate something. Make us taste it.

In The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, food and drink are described with an almost spiritual quality. The boy’s first taste of wine in Tarifa isn’t just “good”—Coelho describes it as something that connects him to the land, to the moment, to his journey. Even simple bread becomes significant through sensory description.

Even something as simple as describing a tomato as luscious and tart, so ripe it tastes like summer lightning, can pull readers deeper into the moment.

Touch

Tactile imagery goes beyond describing sand slipping through fingers or silk resting on shoulders. It includes internal sensations: the feeling of sweltering heat, the prickling sensation of fear, the sharp ache of hunger.

Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 uses touch brilliantly. Fire isn’t just visually described—it’s the sensation of heat on skin, the way Montag’s hands remember the weight of books, the texture of pages. When Clarisse asks if he’s happy, the question itself is described as something that physically unsettles him, like a hand on his chest.

2. Show, Don’t Tell

This is probably the most famous writing advice out there, and for good reason. It’s the difference between a story that feels distant and one that puts you right in the middle of the action.

What This Actually Means

“Show, don’t tell” means conveying information through action, dialogue, and sensory detail instead of simply stating facts. It keeps readers immersed in the story instead of being told about the story.

• Telling: “Norah was cold. She wore an ankle-length fur coat with three golden buttons.”
• Showing: “Norah shivered as she strode across the Stortorvet, pulling up the collar of her floor-length fur coat and scrabbling to fasten its three shining gold buttons.”

In the second version, we get the same information, but we witness the scene unfold. The reader experiences Norah’s cold through her actions.

Think about how Agatha Christie handles this in And Then There Were None. She doesn’t tell us the guests are suspicious of each other, she shows it through clipped dialogue, the way they watch each other at dinner, how they instinctively move away from certain people. The paranoia builds through behavior, not exposition.

Active Voice vs Passive Voice

Part of showing effectively is using active voice instead of passive voice. Active voice is almost always more impactful and engaging.

• Passive: “I was hurt by his comments.” Active: “His comments hurt me.”
• Passive: “The rebellion was crushed by the Capitol.” Active: “The Capitol crushed the rebellion.”

Active voice maintains momentum and puts the reader closer to the action. In 1984, Orwell wrote, “The Party seeks power entirely for its own sake” rather than “Power is sought by the Party entirely for its own sake.” It’s direct, immediate, punchy.

That said, passive voice can be useful when you want to emphasize the action over the actor, or when the actor is unknown. “The window had been broken” works if you’re building suspense in a murder mystery. But as a default? Active voice wins.

Want to learn more about how to write murder mysteries? Check out my blog: How to Write A Murder Mystery.

3. Character Development

Readers connect with stories through characters. So, you’ve got to give your readers a character to root for, to hate, or someone so complex you can’t decide how you feel about them—character connection is what keeps readers turning pages.

Building Complex Personalities

Complex characters aren’t just “good” or “bad.” They have motivations, contradictions, flaws, and layers that make them feel real.

Think about Tyrion Lannister in A Song of Ice and Fire. George R.R. Martin doesn’t just tell us Tyrion is clever, he shows us a man who uses wit as armor because of a lifetime of mockery. We see his intelligence, his bitterness, his capacity for both cruelty and kindness. He’s not one thing. He’s a dozen things at once, and that’s what makes him compelling.

The key is giving readers insight into what makes your characters tick. What do they want? And what are they afraid of? What do they value? Complexity doesn’t always mean pages of backstory. Sometimes it’s what you don’t say.

Want to learn more about how to write compelling morally grey characters? Check out my blog: On Writing Morally Grey Characters.

Mastering Character Voice

Voice is how your characters sound—both in dialogue and in narrative. It’s one of the most powerful tools for making characters distinct and memorable.

1. Narrative Voice:

The words you choose and your sentence structure immediately convey personality and time period. Compare the formal, observational tone of Sherlock Holmes narrated by Watson: “It was in the spring of the year 1894 that all London was interested, and the fashionable world dismayed, by the murder of the Honourable Ronald Adair” to the casual, modern voice of The Hate U Give where Starr speaks in contemporary slang and rhythm.

Sentence length matters too. Short, clipped sentences create urgency or tension. Longer, flowing sentences create a more contemplative or lyrical tone.

2. Dialogue:

Great dialogue gives each character a distinct voice through unique speech patterns, vocabulary, and rhythm.

In The Thursday Murder Club, Richard Osman gives each elderly detective a completely different way of speaking. Elizabeth is precise and strategic. Joyce is chatty and earnest. Ron is gruff and direct. Ibrahim is formal and thoughtful. You could remove the dialogue tags and still know who’s talking.

Poirot’s dialogue is instantly recognizable—his formal English with occasional French phrases, his tendency to refer to himself in third person, his theatrical declarations. “Poirot does not run after the train!” It’s performative, distinctive, memorable.

Good dialogue also contains subtext—what characters mean versus what they say. In ASOIAF, nearly every conversation at court has layers of hidden meaning. Characters say one thing publicly while their true intentions lurk beneath.

Choosing Your POV

Before writing any scene, ask yourself: whose story is this, and whose perspective should the reader adopt? The choice of POV character dramatically shapes how readers experience the narrative.

1. Lend Protagonist Mystery:

Tell the story from an outsider’s perspective to keep the main character enigmatic. This is why Sherlock Holmes is narrated by Watson, not Holmes himself. We see Holmes’s brilliance through Watson’s amazed observations, but we never fully understand how Holmes thinks. It preserves the mystery and makes Holmes more impressive.

2. Ease Readers into a New World:

Use a “reader proxy”—a POV character who’s new to the setting. In The Hunger Games, Katniss has never been to the Capitol before, so readers discover it alongside her. Her confusion is our confusion. Her wonder is our wonder. It allows natural exposition without info-dumping.

3. Throw Readers in at the Deep End:

Conversely, a POV character who’s a veteran or insider offers illuminating insight into a world’s nuances. In ASOIAF, when we’re in Cersei’s POV, we’re not getting explanations of how King’s Landing works—we’re seeing the political machinations from someone deeply embedded in them. It’s immersive and assumes reader intelligence.

4. Provide Contrast:

Choose a POV character who recognizes the flaws or absurdity of their world, even if they’re part of it. This prevents readers from accepting everything at face value and can add social commentary or satire.

5. Multiple POVs:

Using multiple viewpoints across a larger work can eliminate stagnation and reveal different facets of the story. ASOIAF uses this masterfully—each POV character reveals new information, creating a complete picture of the world. Christie’s And Then There Were None shifts perspectives to build paranoia as we see events through different guests’ eyes.

3. Narrative Power

Beyond character and setting, the core engine of a captivating story lies in how you manage tension, emotion, and pace. These elements keep readers engrossed and unable to put the book down.

Evoking Strong Emotions

Strong emotions are what keep readers invested in your characters’ futures. You have many tools at your disposal—horror, humor, love, determination, anger—and using them intentionally ensures readers have an emotional stake in the outcome.

The trick is often in the timing of the revelation. In The Hate U Give, Angie Thomas doesn’t immediately show us Khalil’s shooting in graphic detail. She builds to it, lets us get to know him, makes us care—and then the moment hits with devastating impact because we’re emotionally invested.

Or think about the Red Wedding in A Song of Ice and Fire. George R.R. Martin doesn’t rely on shock value alone. He builds a false sense of security, makes readers believe in a happy resolution, and then pulls the rug out. The emotional impact comes from subverted expectations combined with characters we’ve grown to care about.

Horror works similarly. The most effective horrifying moments aren’t just grotesque—they’re emotionally resonant. When we realize what’s at stake, when a previously undetected detail suddenly clarifies the implications of a scene, that’s when readers recoil.

Writing Gripping Action

Action scenes are specialized. A well-written action sequence doesn’t just describe what’s happening—it thrusts the reader into the middle of the conflict and makes them feel the stakes.

The technique involves detailed, fast-paced description combined with urgent, minimal dialogue. In The Hunger Games, Collins writes action sequences with short, punchy sentences that mirror the adrenaline of the moment:

“I hear his weight on the creaking door. The whoosh of air. The thunk as it closes.”

Notice: no flowery language, no long descriptions. Just immediate, visceral detail that puts you in Katniss’s head as she’s hiding from a threat.

Simple dialogue adds realism and tension without slowing the pace. A character muttering “Steady” or a brief “I know” in response keeps momentum while showing emotional state.

The key is balancing detail with speed. Too much description bogs down action. Too little and readers can’t visualize what’s happening. You want them to feel the chaos without getting lost in it.

Controlling Time and Suspense

Manipulating time is one of the most effective narrative tools you have. You can compress entire weeks into a paragraph or stretch a single moment across pages, depending on what the story needs.

1. Foreshadowing:

Planting clues about future events builds anticipation and makes readers anxious for characters. Agatha Christie is the master of this. In And Then There Were None, she drops hints throughout—the rhyme, the missing items, the way characters behave—that only make sense in retrospect. Readers feel the dread without knowing exactly why.

2. In Medias Res (Start Late, Leave Early):

Start your story as close to the climax as possible. Skip the inciting incident and fold exposition into the rising action. This keeps writing snappy and focused. Fahrenheit 451 opens with Montag burning books, not with his childhood or how he became a fireman. We’re immediately in the action, and Bradbury fills in the backstory organically as the plot unfolds.

3. Hemingway’s Iceberg Theory:

Provide readers only with essential elements. While you should know your characters’ intricate backstories, you don’t need to share all of it. Keep some details implied. This maintains reader interest through discovery rather than info-dumping.

In detective novels, this technique is crucial. We don’t need every detail of the detective’s past—just enough to understand their motivations and methods. The mystery itself drives the narrative, not exposition.

4. Refining Your Prose

True mastery involves paying attention to the texture, sound, and efficiency of your language. These techniques polish your writing from good to exceptional.

Lyrical Writing and Comparative Descriptions

Lyrical writing focuses on how the text sounds—the rhythm and musicality of your sentences. This doesn’t mean every sentence needs to be poetry, but strategic use of sound can draw readers’ attention and create memorable moments.

1. Sound Devices:

Repetition of vowel sounds (assonance), consonant sounds (consonance), and initial consonant sounds (alliteration) can make prose more engaging and even foreshadow plot points.

Paulo Coelho does this beautifully in The Alchemist. His prose has a rhythmic, almost hypnotic quality: “And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.” The repetition of sounds and the cadence make it stick in your mind.

2. Fresh Comparisons:

When describing things, avoid clichéd similes and metaphors. “Her eyes were blue as the sea” is tiring. Instead, strive for unique comparative descriptions that surprise readers.

Roald Dahl excels at this. In his books, descriptions are delightfully unexpected—a character might have eyes like “small black buttons,” or a smile that looks “as though it had been sliced into the face with a knife.” These comparisons are visceral and memorable.

3. Personification and Pathetic Fallacy:

Giving abstract ideas or objects human traits makes prose sparkle. Pathetic fallacy—where the environment mirrors the mood—is particularly effective. “Even the sun gave up soon that day” tells us about the atmosphere without explicitly stating it.

George R.R. Martin uses this in ASOIAF: “Winter is coming” isn’t just a warning—the environment itself becomes a character, oppressive and threatening.

Omit Needless Words

Clarity and conciseness are paramount. Every sentence must earn its place on the page.

Agatha Christie is a masterclass in efficiency. Her prose is clean, direct, and wastes no words. She doesn’t spend paragraphs describing a room unless those details matter to the mystery. Every sentence drives the narrative forward.

When editing, look for patterns of inefficiency:

• If two sentences say the same thing, delete the weaker one
• If a sentence is five words but can be two, cut the extra three
• Ask if the sentence actively drives the narrative forward—if not, cut it

This doesn’t mean your writing should be sparse or boring. It means every word should have purpose. For example: 

• Wordy: “She was feeling very angry and upset about what had happened to her.”
• Concise: “She was furious.”

The second version is stronger, clearer, and more impactful.

Subverting Clichés and Expectations

Every writer occasionally falls into the trap of clichés. The key is recognizing them and flipping them to make your story feel fresh and relevant.

1. Subverting Tropes:

Take an expected narrative trope and deliberately flip it. Instead of the damsel in distress, maybe she rescues herself—or better yet, never needed rescuing in the first place. Instead of the “happily ever after” marriage ending, maybe your protagonists decide a healthy platonic friendship is the better fit.

George R.R. Martin built his career on this. ASOIAF takes traditional fantasy tropes—the noble hero, the evil villain, the inevitable triumph of good—and systematically dismantles them. Ned Stark, who seems like the protagonist, dies. The “good guys” don’t always win. War has consequences. It’s fantasy that feels brutally realistic because it subverts expectations.

2. Irony:

Irony adds layers to your narrative. Dramatic irony, where readers know something characters don’t, creates tension. In Agatha Christie’s mysteries, readers often have clues the detective hasn’t pieced together yet, making us feel clever and engaged.

Situational irony—where a character ends up in the exact opposite situation of what’s expected—can be used for comedy or tragedy. A doctor dying of the disease they specialized in treating. A fire station burning down. These twists make stories memorable.

The key is intentionality. Don’t subvert just for shock value. Make sure the subversion serves your story and reveals something meaningful about your characters or themes.

5. Connecting with Your Audience

For writers aiming to build an audience, specific techniques focus on psychological connection and influence.

Reading Your Reader’s Mind

To truly connect, you need to understand how your reader feels and mirror those feelings back to them. Readers love it when a writer manages to articulate their inner thoughts in the exact words they’d use themselves.

This is why certain authors resonate so deeply with specific audiences. They’re not just telling a story—they’re validating experiences, naming feelings, speaking “hard truths” that readers have felt but couldn’t express.

To achieve this:

• List the exact thoughts, fears, frustrations, hopes your readers might have
• Turn those visceral statements into content that resonates
• Use language that feels personal and specific, not generic

For example, instead of writing “Many people struggle with writing,” try “You sit down to write and suddenly your inbox needs checking, your desk needs organizing, and you absolutely must research the etymology of ‘procrastination’ right this second.”

The second version is specific, relatable, and feels like you’re reading the reader’s mind.

Packing a Punch with Language

If you want engagement, you must make your reader feel something. This means using words that evoke emotions—focus especially on high arousal emotions, both positive and negative.

1. Be Specific:

Vague statements don’t land. “You’re afraid to fail” is weak. “You’re afraid you’ll fall flat on your face, just like your friends and family thought you would” is specific and visceral.

Specificity is inherently more evocative because it activates readers’ imaginations and personal experiences.

2. Use Your Readers’ Exact Words:

Conduct audience research by reading comments, reviews, or feedback. When readers describe their struggles or feelings, they use specific language. Copy that language. Use their exact phrases.

If your audience says “I feel like I’m spinning my wheels,” don’t rewrite it as “experiencing stagnation.” Use their words. It makes your writing instantly credible and relatable because readers recognize themselves in it.

Perspective Blending (I, You, We)

When writing for an audience, it’s easy to overuse “I” (making it sound like a journal entry) or overuse “you” (making it sound preachy or condescending). A balanced approach blends perspectives.

• First Person (I, We): Creates connection and shows you’ve implemented your own advice. “I struggled with this for years before I figured it out…”
• Second Person (You): Makes advice direct and actionable. “You can try this technique by…”
• Third Person (They): Provides examples and case studies without being about you or the reader. “Many writers find that…”

Using “we” is particularly powerful because it creates a bond—you’re on a shared mission together. It’s not “I’m the expert telling you what to do” or “you need to fix this problem.” It’s “we’re figuring this out together.”

Daring to “Go There”

Sometimes, the most impactful writing is the work that feels too raw, too personal, or too controversial. If you aren’t writing things that occasionally make you nervous to publish, you might not be pushing the envelope enough.

This doesn’t mean being gratuitously offensive or insensitive. It means having the courage to:

• Share politically incorrect truths
• Express what you really think, not the sanitized version
• Challenge conventional wisdom in your field
• Be vulnerable about your own failures and struggles

The best writing often comes from that place of discomfort. When you write something and think “should I really publish this?” that’s often a sign you’re onto something genuine and powerful.

Sensitivity is important, but writers must err on the side of pushing the envelope instead of pulling punches. Say the things people are thinking but afraid to say out loud. That’s where genuine connection happens.

Practical Strategies for the Busy Writer

Techniques aren’t just about prose—they’re about process. Incorporating simple strategies into your routine can help you overcome blocks and actually finish your work.

1. Separate Planning from Creation

Many writers struggle because they ask their brain to perform two contradictory tasks simultaneously: deciding what to write (planning) and writing itself (creation).

Planning is outward- and future-facing. It’s about structure, ideas, what comes next. Writing is introspective and execution-focused. It’s about finding the right words for ideas you’ve already decided on.

When you try to do both at once, you burn creative energy constantly pivoting between “what should I say?” and “how should I say it?” This is a major cause of writer’s block.

The solution: Plan what you’re going to write first, then write. Don’t try to do both simultaneously. Outline your blog post. Map your chapter. 

Know where the scene is going before you start drafting. This doesn’t mean you can’t deviate—sometimes better ideas emerge while writing—but having a roadmap prevents you from staring at a blank page wondering what happens next.

• If you’re completely stuck: Challenge yourself to write anything for 10 minutes. Clear your workspace, eliminate distractions, and just let words flow. Write about something on your mind, something you’re grateful for, or something true in the moment. This reduces stress and often unlocks whatever was blocking you.
• Another helpful practice: Spend 30 minutes a day in nature or away from screens. 

Observing your surroundings, being still, and letting your mind wander often provides new perspectives that help you problem-solve more effectively. (I know this sounds woo-woo, but it actually works.)

2. The First Draft Formula

To finish drafts quickly, you must prioritize speed over perfection. Here’s the formula:

• Use Placeholders: Never stop to research while writing the first draft. If you need a fact, character name, or specific detail, use a notation like [add fact here] or [CHARACTER NAME] and come back to it on the second pass. Momentum matters more than accuracy in a first draft.
• Embrace the Crappy First Draft: Do not judge your first draft. Too many writers beat themselves up over imperfection and abandon projects because “it’s not good enough.” The goal of a first draft is simply to get it done. You can’t edit a blank page.
• Map Out Ideas Beforehand: Always create an outline first. Don’t stare at a blank page expecting magic. Structure your ideas, know your key points, and then start writing the actual content.
• Move Your Fingers: Staring at the page equals creative death. Start typing immediately, even if your opening sentence is “I don’t know what to write yet” or “This is going to be terrible.” The act of typing often unlocks the actual words you need.
• No Breaks: Commit to finishing the draft without checking social media, email, or other tabs. If you must pause, stretch or meditate, but don’t fragment your attention. Finishing a complete (even if messy) draft in one session is far more productive than writing in fragmented bursts.
• Polish the Frame: After the draft is finished, focus on the elements readers remember most: headlines, introductions, conclusions, and subheadings. These get more attention than body content, so rework them multiple times until they’re compelling and irresistible.

3. Experimenting with Different Forms

Writers often stick to traditional formats like novels, short stories, or essays. But crossing boundaries and experimenting with structure can keep your writing fresh and unlock creativity.

• Epistolary Narratives: Stories told through letters, emails, or text messages create an intimate, voyeuristic feel. It’s like reading someone’s private correspondence. In the modern context, this could be email exchanges, instant messaging group chats, or social media posts. It feels authentic and immediate.
• Logs and Formal Documents: Using a ship’s log, doctor’s report, police transcript, or journal entries can lend credibility to otherwise improbable stories. Mixing these forms within a single piece—telegrams, medical journals, newspaper clippings—creates texture and variety.
• One-Sided Dialogue: Q&A formats, interview transcripts, or therapy session notes can reveal character and advance plot in unexpected ways.

The key is not being afraid to break traditional narrative structure. If a scene would work better as a series of text messages than as standard prose, write it that way. Form should serve the story, not constrain it.