Why a Strong Premise is the Foundation of a Great Story

You’ve got your next great story laid out. But have you thought deeply about a compelling premise? The one central idea that gives your plot weight? Or the ultimate question you’re trying to answer with your novel?

Our writing coach, Urban Waite—an author praised by Stephen King—knows a thing or two about the importance of a clear premise for a story idea. In this article, Urban shares his personal advice on the importance of a strong premise and how it propels your story forward.

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Why do you need a premise?

You always need a good premise. It will get people to perk up when they talk to you. It will start conversations. It will open doors you’ve probably only ever dreamed of opening—even the heaviest ones.

Most of the time, when people talk about a compelling premise, it’s in the same way I did in the first few sentences of this article—as a transaction. It opens doors. It starts the conversation. It will get people talking about you and what you’re doing. But writing doesn’t begin this way, nor should it really be the goal.

Writing can be lonely, and, usually, the conversation you’re hoping your story’s premise will unlock isn’t with another human being, but with yourself. 

What is a premise?

A strong premise is usually one or two sentences. I’m not here to prescribe anything, but I will tell you what has worked for me, writer to writer, or perhaps simply me to me, in a conversation that happens in my head every time I sit down at the computer and begin to write.

A premise is foundational for fiction writers. Which—in my mind—means, it’s where you start.

The story premise checklist

1. Who is the main character?
2. What is the protagonist’s goal, aka: what do they want?
3. Who or what is against them?
4. Is the thing that is against them, the thing that scares them most?
5. Where are they/what is their location?
6. What is their destination? Their main reason for going forward?
7. What makes their individual situation within the plot unique?
8. Who is the audience for this story?
9. What challenges—internal or external—will your character face along the way?
10. How are these challenges representative of their journey?

How does the protagonist fit into your premise?

The simplest explanation of a premise is that it lays out the components of the story with two main factors. 

• Who is the protagonist?
• And what is their goal?

But this has never been enough for me. Often, who your character is and what they want gives only enough room for your character to pop their head up, say hello, and then disappear back down into the masses. A name and a desire aren’t really that unique. You want unique.

You want to stand out from all the rest, so I always add one more component—a hook that adds a little of that special sauce to the story you are now creating. A detail that gets your reader, and you (as you craft your project), to go from giving a solid premise to telling a story. And with this one simple tweak, your character can go from standing up, out of the masses, to taking flight. 

What’s at stake in your story?

Name what is at stake. Will your character lose their life? Will they fall from grace? What—in your character’s specific situation—scares them most?

As an example, here is a premise that lays out these three factors:

A good-hearted hobbit named Frodo Baggins, who has never left home, takes on a dangerous quest to save the lands of Middle-earth, before a dark power returns to enslave everyone and everything Frodo holds dear.

Would this core idea, this premise, for The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien, read the same or garner the same interest if there were no personal stakes for young Mr. Baggins?

A good-hearted hobbit named Frodo Baggins wants to save Middle-earth.

But from what? And yes, one of these premises has much more detail than the next. But that is also the point. I’m creating a story, I’m giving you context for what is at stake, who this character is, and what they want to accomplish. This is me manipulating you (kindly!) by trying to build sympathy for Frodo, and, to a greater extent, the creatures of Middle-earth.

Ah, but now I’ve let you in behind the curtain, and given you the ugly truth:

All of this is manipulation. That’s what a premise is. That’s what you should probably take from all this.  

And yes, my phrasing—the word, manipulation—isn’t a kindhearted way of saying this. But please consider why I would say it this way.

A story’s premise can be many things

My goal, or the premise of this article, is to be honest with you about what it is we’re doing here. Sometimes, that means using a word that calls attention to the reality of the situation. At other times, it’s more useful to ease on into the following sentence, or next paragraph, and sweep what was just said under the rug... at least for now.

You’re a storyteller wanting to tell a good story. A great premise isn’t so different from telling a story. There are variations on that premise, just like there are variations in a story.

For example:

• The voice I use.
• The details I choose to include (or omit).
• And paramount: the assumptions I make about you, the reader.

Now, I said this wouldn’t be transactional. And it shouldn’t be—not at this point. Right now, as we work through this together, we’re at the outlining stage. We’re considering all the factors before we go from idea to opportunity.

There’s the next word: this is an opportunity. You! Wherever you are! This is your opportunity.

Everything I’ve laid out for you is my process. All of these factors I consider and outline—character, desire, stakes—are foundational to my journey, and I hope they are to yours as well, not just as a way to sell your story idea, but as a way to build it.

So, as a writer, how can a premise help you?

As I said in the opening of this article, a great premise is where you start. But it can also be how you build and strengthen your plot and themes along the way. And then finally, at the end, how you bring it all together into a compelling story.

At the beginning of your story...

...as you set out to take that swirling mess of ideas in your head and distill it down into one sentence or two on the page, you are at the beginning.

For some, this might be the first step in the writing process. It certainly helps to reduce the complexity of a novel, memoir, or short story to something as simple as what your character wants and what they are facing throughout the narrative.

If you write that rough premise down and keep it on your desk, stick it alongside your screen, or keep it close at hand—somewhere you can see it every day—it will get better.

Some days, it will keep you on track. Other days, it will help discover solutions and fill the void when the words aren’t coming. Sometimes it will simply be the underlying message you need to get your journey going.

And, as you do, you will make it better. You will change it. You will figure out what’s important to you and your story. And, in line with this, you will figure out what is truly at stake for your character. And this will drive them forward. And get your fingers moving over those keys.

Then, in the middle...

...when it is not your character who is lost at sea, but you, the writer, your premise becomes a beacon in the fog, guiding you toward your destination.

You’ve already done the work by condensing all those thoughts at the beginning and writing that strong premise. But now you’re in the middle, you’re out there, you’re off on your journey with your character. You’re in the sea, or in the woods, or in whatever metaphor you choose for this very situation.

To be here, in that middle space, between where your story began and where it is headed, is scary. If it wasn’t, it wouldn’t be any fun.

And if it isn’t scary for you and your character, it better be. Everything you write needs to be in service to your premise. You took the time to build it and to get your character to this point in their story. So, now, as you go forward, and move your story forward, you need to keep layering in the pressures that reinforce all that work.

Did Frodo simply walk, unbothered, all the way to Rivendell? Or did he face both external and internal challenges to his arrival there? Every step Frodo takes begins to feel like a challenge. The internal pressure of being far from home, as well as the mental weight of what’s at stake if he fails, right alongside the external pressures of the Nazgûl, who pursue Frodo and his band of hobbits, all add up and compound.

Tolkien certainly could have gotten Frodo to his destination without any conflict, but my guess is that in the writing of this journey, he got lost along the way.

And that—the act of being lost and, most of the time, uncertain of what comes next—is both the pleasure and the pain of writing.

No matter who you are, you will lose your way, go down the wrong path, take the wrong turn, or simply go in circles. In those times, you can’t stay still. You need to build the tension, internally or externally. And put your premise to the test.

Getting lost along the way is scary, but don’t forget: you have a map. You have your premise. Look to wherever you’ve posted it, written it, or—who knows?—even have the words tattooed upon your skin.

That solid premise will guide you forward, just as it helped guide you with your character. Because that thing you gave it, the stakes, the fear you imparted on your character—that feeling is drawing ever closer. And your job, as a writer, is to explore and confront it. That’s the important thing. From beginning to end, let your protagonist change along the way, from scene to scene.

And then at the end...

...after you have done all that you can, after you have drafted the novel and held your work up to the mirror and edited, this is finally where you let your premise do the talking. Or, in other words, use what you have poured into that premise—your character, their goal, the central conflict and stakes—to start up a conversation that is finally not just in your head.

Your premise is your book’s elevator pitch

Whether you’re querying an agent, seeking to self-publish, courting a publisher, or simply enticing a reader to give your work a shot, a premise is important. What is your concept?

It tells the story of your character in one to two clear sentences. It can be the start of what will become your elevator pitch, or your logline, or even, in a much longer form, the back-cover blurb of your book.

It should also be said that I have seen the opposite be true: that a logline and elevator pitch can lead to a premise, which I disagree with, but thought I’d mention since these terms do seem to bleed together in the greater storytelling community.

But whatever term you use, your premise should stand alone like the simple foundational statement it is meant to be. And always, it should tell a story.

Character + Want + Stakes = Premise. 

Who is a premise good for? (In order of importance)

1. You, Yourself, and You again
2. Your character
3. Your audience
4. An agent
5. An editor
6. A publisher/specifically: marketing and PR

So, much like Frodo on his epic quest, find your premise, and enjoy discovering your own journey.

Build your premise with The Big Idea Challenge

Get extra support and motivation this spring to develop an ambitious novel idea you can’t wait to write.

When you join The Big Idea course at The Novelry in March, you’ll also get access to:

• A live writing class with Yann Martel, the Booker Prize-winning author of Life of Pi
  
• Weekly group study sessions
• Panel events with New York Times bestselling authors
• A synopsis workshop with a publishing editor
• Our online accountability challenge group

Spaces are limited—sign up by March 1 to secure your place.