Writing fiction is strange.
You can spend three hours carefully crafting a paragraph, only to realize that the paragraph doesn’t need to exist. You can obsess over the perfect name for a side character who appears twice. You can rewrite the opening chapter twenty-seven times while insisting that this time you’ve finally got it.
And sometimes, the thing holding your story back isn’t something you need to learn.
It’s something you need to stop doing.
Fiction writers collect habits. Some come from good intentions: wanting to make the story clearer, the characters deeper, the prose prettier, or the plot more exciting. Others come from insecurity—worrying that readers won’t understand, that a scene isn’t interesting enough, or that the writing isn’t “good” unless every sentence sounds impressive.
But fiction doesn’t become stronger simply because you add more.
Sometimes, you make your writing better by getting out of its way.
Here are 20 things fiction writers should stop doing—or at least start questioning.
1. Stop Over-Explaining Everything
Your reader is smarter than you think.
If a character slams a door, refuses to make eye contact, and suddenly becomes very interested in their phone, you may not need to explain:
Sarah was angry with him and didn’t want to talk about what had happened.
You’ve already shown us.
Over-explaining can drain tension from a scene because you’re giving readers the answer before they’ve had a chance to interpret the clues themselves.
Trust your readers to connect dots.
You don’t need to explain every emotion, motivation, relationship, reaction, or piece of symbolism.
Ask yourself: Have I already shown this through action, dialogue, setting, or behavior?
If the answer is yes, consider cutting the explanation.
2. Stop Starting Your Story Too Early
Many novels begin several chapters before the actual story begins.
There’s the protagonist waking up.
Getting dressed.
Having breakfast.
Going to work.
Thinking about their ordinary life.
Meeting someone.
Going home.
And then, eventually, something happens.
The problem?
Readers didn’t necessarily come for the protagonist’s ordinary Tuesday.
They came for the story.
This doesn’t mean every novel needs an explosion on page one. A quiet opening can be incredibly effective.
But something should be happening beneath the surface.
A question.
A disruption.
A desire.
A problem.
A mystery.
A decision.
A relationship beginning to crack.
Start as close as possible to the moment when something changes.
3. Stop Giving Every Character the Same Voice
If you removed the character names from your dialogue and couldn’t tell who was speaking, you may have a problem.
Characters shouldn’t all sound like versions of the author.
Think about:
- vocabulary
- sentence length
- humor
- confidence
- formality
- emotional openness
- favorite expressions
- rhythm
- what they avoid saying
A sarcastic teenager shouldn’t sound exactly like a seventy-year-old professor.
A nervous character shouldn’t communicate the same way as someone who dominates every room they enter.
Your characters don’t just need different personalities.
They need different ways of expressing those personalities.
4. Stop Forcing Dialogue to Deliver Information
This is one of the biggest dialogue traps in fiction.
Two characters already know something, but they discuss it solely so the reader can learn it.
“As you know, David, we’ve been married for twelve years.”
“Yes, Susan. And our daughter Emily is seventeen and attending college.”
Nobody talks like that.
Unless they’re secretly auditioning for a very strange educational video.
Instead, look for natural ways to reveal information.
Arguments can reveal history.
Questions can reveal relationships.
Avoidance can reveal secrets.
Jokes can reveal intimacy.
And sometimes, not saying something reveals more than saying it.
5. Stop Editing Every Sentence During the First Draft
Your first draft is not supposed to be beautiful.
It’s supposed to exist.
If you constantly stop writing to perfect every sentence, you can turn a creative process into a proofreading session.
You’ll spend fifteen minutes polishing one paragraph while the next ten chapters remain unwritten.
Let yourself write badly.
Write awkward sentences.
Write placeholders.
Write:
[INSERT BETTER DESCRIPTION HERE]
Write:
[NEED A COOLER NAME]
Keep moving.
You can fix the writing once you know what the story actually is.
Draft first. Sculpt later.
6. Stop Trying to Make Every Sentence Sound Profound
Not every sentence needs to be quotable.
Sometimes:
She opened the refrigerator.
is exactly what the story needs.
Writers can become so focused on beautiful prose that ordinary actions start sounding strangely poetic.
Suddenly characters aren’t walking—they’re carrying the unbearable weight of existence across the kitchen floor.
Beautiful prose is wonderful.
But contrast makes beautiful prose more powerful.
If everything is intense, nothing feels intense.
Let some sentences simply do their jobs.
7. Stop Introducing Too Many Characters at Once
Your protagonist has a best friend.
The best friend’s boyfriend.
Their neighbor.
The neighbor’s sister.
A mysterious bartender.
Three coworkers.
A cousin.
A teacher.
A rival.
And the mysterious person standing across the room.
Congratulations.
Your reader now needs a spreadsheet.
Introduce characters when they become relevant.
And when a character appears, give the reader a reason to remember them.
Distinctive personality, behavior, appearance, role, voice, or relationship can help.
You don’t need twelve names on the first five pages.
8. Stop Using Description Like a Checklist
One of the easiest ways to make description feel unnatural is to introduce a character by listing everything about them.
Hair.
Eyes.
Height.
Clothing.
Shoes.
Jewelry.
Skin.
Face.
Scar.
Reader: Thank you, I suppose?
Instead, let description emerge naturally.
What does another character notice?
What detail matters in the moment?
What does the character’s appearance tell us about them?
Someone nervously tugging at an expensive sleeve tells us more than a paragraph listing the color, fabric, buttons, and stitching.
Description should do more than tell us what something looks like.
It should help us experience the story.
9. Stop Making Characters Constantly Say Exactly What They Feel
Real people rarely announce every emotion with perfect clarity.
Fictional characters shouldn’t have to either.
Instead of:
“I’m terrified,” she said.
consider what fear looks like.
Maybe her hands won’t stop shaking.
Maybe she keeps checking the locked door.
Maybe she talks too quickly.
Maybe she jokes when she normally wouldn’t.
Maybe she becomes completely silent.
Emotions become more convincing when readers can observe them.
And sometimes, characters don’t even understand their own emotions.
That’s interesting too.
10. Stop Confusing Suffering With Character Development
A character doesn’t automatically become deep because terrible things happen to them.
Trauma is not a personality.
Pain is not a character arc.
And tragedy isn’t automatically meaningful.
What matters is what the character does with the experience.
How does it change their worldview?
What choices does it force them to make?
What beliefs does it challenge?
What patterns does it create?
What does the character learn—or stubbornly refuse to learn?
Character development comes from change, conflict, choices, and consequences, not simply from piling misery onto someone’s backstory.
11. Stop Making Your Protagonist Good at Everything
Perfect characters are difficult to root for.
Your protagonist can be brilliant and terrible at relationships.
Brave but financially irresponsible.
Kind but judgmental.
Talented but insecure.
Confident professionally but hopeless romantically.
Give them strengths.
Then give those strengths limits.
More importantly, give them weaknesses that actually cause problems.
A flaw that never affects the story isn’t really a flaw.
If your protagonist is stubborn, let that stubbornness make things worse.
If they’re impulsive, let them make impulsive decisions.
If they’re afraid of abandonment, let that fear influence their relationships.
Flaws become interesting when they have consequences.
12. Stop Making Villains Evil Just Because the Plot Needs One
A villain who wakes up thinking, How can I ruin everyone’s day? can work in certain stories.
But many villains become far more compelling when they believe they’re justified.
Maybe they’re protecting their family.
Maybe they believe society is fundamentally broken.
Maybe they think the protagonist is dangerous.
Maybe they genuinely believe their actions will save thousands of people.
Maybe they want something reasonable and are willing to cross increasingly horrifying lines to obtain it.
The best villains don’t always think:
“I’m evil.”
They think:
“I’m right.”
Give your antagonist a worldview.
Then let that worldview collide with your protagonist’s.
13. Stop Making Every Scene Have the Same Emotional Temperature
If every scene is dramatic, readers eventually stop feeling the drama.
Stories need rhythm.
Tension.
Relief.
Humor.
Tenderness.
Unease.
Wonder.
Silence.
Then tension again.
A quiet scene after an explosive confrontation can make the confrontation feel more significant.
A funny moment can make the next tragedy hurt more.
A peaceful chapter can create dread when readers know something is coming.
Think of your story like music.
You need variation for the important notes to stand out.
14. Stop Explaining the Mystery Before Readers Can Wonder About It
Mystery requires space.
If you immediately explain why the strange neighbor behaves strangely, why the protagonist keeps having nightmares, what the symbol means, and who sent the anonymous letter, you’ve removed the reader’s opportunity to wonder.
Give readers questions.
Then let them build theories.
They might be wrong.
That’s okay.
In fact, it’s often exactly what you want.
A good mystery isn’t simply about withholding information.
It’s about giving readers enough information to become curious.
15. Stop Making Characters Conveniently Stupid
Sometimes a plot needs a character to make a terrible decision.
That’s fine.
But there’s a difference between a bad decision and an obviously artificial one.
If your protagonist is an experienced detective, they probably shouldn’t forget that fingerprints exist simply because the plot requires them to miss a clue.
If two characters could solve the entire conflict by having one five-minute conversation, you need a believable reason they don’t.
Don’t make characters stupid to protect your plot.
Make the conflict strong enough that intelligent characters still struggle.
16. Stop Using Backstory as a Substitute for Story
You may know everything about your character.
Their childhood.
Their first heartbreak.
Their parents’ divorce.
Their favorite teacher.
The family vacation when they were nine.
The embarrassing incident at sixteen.
Their favorite food.
Their first kiss.
That’s wonderful.
But your reader doesn’t necessarily need all of it.
Backstory should support the present story.
Ask:
Does this information change how we understand what is happening now?
If yes, it may belong.
If not, keep it in your private character file.
You are allowed to know things your reader never does.
17. Stop Making Every Chapter End With a Giant Cliffhanger
Cliffhangers are powerful.
If you use them constantly, they become predictable.
Every chapter ends with:
And then she saw who was standing behind the door.
And then the phone rang.
And then he realized the truth.
And then the building exploded.
Eventually readers learn that every chapter ending means:
“Something dramatic will happen immediately after this.”
Not every chapter needs to end with a cliffhanger.
Sometimes a powerful final line can create anticipation without an explosion.
End on a realization.
A decision.
An emotional shift.
An unanswered question.
A disturbing image.
Or a sentence that makes the reader think:
Oh no.
That’s often enough.
18. Stop Trying to Sound Like Your Favorite Author
Your favorite writer probably influenced you.
That’s normal.
You may even imitate their style while learning.
But eventually, you need to discover your own voice.
Don’t ask:
“How would my favorite author write this?”
Ask:
“How would I write this?”
Your voice develops through experimentation.
Write differently.
Try different genres.
Change your sentence lengths.
Experiment with dialogue.
Write scenes that feel natural to you.
Your voice isn’t something you discover by staring at a blank page until inspiration arrives.
You develop it by writing a lot.
19. Stop Treating Every Writing Rule Like a Law
You’ve heard them.
“Never use adverbs.”
“Never start with a dream.”
“Show, don’t tell.”
“Never use said.”
“Never use said alternatives.”
“Never write in first person.”
“Never write in present tense.”
“Never have your protagonist be unlikeable.”
Writing advice can be useful.
But rules are often guidelines with context.
“Show, don’t tell” doesn’t mean never tell.
Adverbs aren’t illegal.
Passive voice isn’t a criminal offense.
A dream sequence can work.
A character can say something directly.
The real skill is understanding why a technique works, when it doesn’t, and what effect you’re trying to create.
Learn the rules.
Then learn when breaking them makes your story better.
20. Stop Waiting to Feel Like a “Real Writer”
This might be the biggest one.
You don’t become a writer when someone gives you permission.
You don’t need a publishing contract.
You don’t need thousands of followers.
You don’t need a bestselling novel.
You don’t need a literary agent.
You don’t need to write every day.
And you certainly don’t need to feel confident.
If you write fiction, you’re a fiction writer.
You are allowed to be learning.
You are allowed to write terrible first drafts.
You are allowed to change your mind.
You are allowed to abandon a story.
You are allowed to write something ridiculous just because it’s fun.
You are allowed to improve slowly.
Stop waiting until you feel legitimate.
Write.
That’s where the legitimacy comes from.
The Bigger Lesson: Stop Getting in Your Own Way
Most of these habits have something in common.
They’re usually attempts to make our writing better.
We over-explain because we’re afraid readers won’t understand.
We obsess over sentences because we’re afraid our prose isn’t good enough.
We give characters too much description because we’re afraid readers won’t visualize them correctly.
We create complicated plots because we’re afraid a simple story won’t be interesting.
We imitate other writers because we’re afraid our own voice isn’t strong enough.
We edit constantly because we’re afraid the first draft isn’t good.
And we sometimes forget the most important thing:
A story doesn’t need to be perfect to be worth telling.
Good fiction isn’t created by eliminating every possible imperfection.
It’s created through choices.
Knowing what to include.
Knowing what to leave out.
Knowing when to explain and when to trust.
Knowing when to slow down and when to move.
Knowing when a scene needs more—and when it desperately needs less.
So go back through your current manuscript.
Pick just three of these habits.
Find one place where you’re doing each.
Then experiment.
Cut the explanation.
Change the dialogue.
Give the character a stronger voice.
Move the opening forward.
Stop polishing and keep drafting.
You might be surprised by what happens when you stop trying so hard to make your writing work—and start letting the story breathe.
Because sometimes the best revision isn’t adding something brilliant.
Sometimes it’s simply removing what was getting in the way.
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