I recently wrote the same short story about a lonely priest twice, with what, to me, were drastically different results. The thing I found most interesting is that I only changed one thing between the two versions: my writing partner, SAM.

Who is SAM?

The Story Grid methodology incorporates the concept of an imaginary single audience member—SAM for short—who has a problem they’re trying to solve. As you write your story, you’re supposed to envision yourself sitting across from SAM in a coffee shop, for instance, telling her a story that you know will solve a current problem she has. I’ll explain SAM’s purpose in a moment, but we need to discuss your protagonist first so that everything makes sense.

SAM and Your Protagonist

For your story to be helpful to SAM—and for SAM to be helpful to your story—your protagonist must have the same problem SAM does, and it cannot be a simple one. The issue must be complex, and its solution should change depending on context. There should also be a price to pay, regardless of what choice the protagonist makes. Story Grid refers to these types of issues as double-factor problems.

SAM’s Double-Factor Problem

To illustrate what a double-factor problem looks like, let’s create two scenarios using the same protagonist and then contrast them.

In our first scenario, let’s pretend you’re writing a story about a detective investigating a kidnapping case. Under normal circumstances, the solution is easy; find the kid and arrest the kidnapper. However, this doesn’t make for an interesting story because there is no real conflict and no difficult decisions for the protagonist detective to make. Story Grid refers to these easy-solution issues as single-factor problems, and they’re the literary equivalent of wearing cement shoes into a deep lake. They’re boring and will sink your story fast. Let’s fix that.

In our second scenario, let’s pretend your detective interviews the parents of a kidnapped girl and checks the house for clues. He looks at the girl’s bedroom and sees there are no sheets on the bed, just a feather-tick pillow and a thin blanket. The only toy in the room is a stuffed bear with a missing eye, and there’s a crayon drawing of a sad girl on the floor. As he interviews the parents, the mother keeps glancing at her watch, and the father responds to the detective’s questions with brief, one- or two-word answers while watching TV.

Later, the detective finds the kidnapper and the girl. When he slams his way into the kidnapper’s home, he discovers the kidnapper and the girls sitting at the kitchen table coloring together. The kidnapper is a middle-aged woman who lost her daughter in an accident and kidnapped the girl because she reminded the woman of her daughter. The girl is well-dressed and seemed to be having a happy conversation with her kidnapper before the detective interrupted. As he looks around, he finds toys strewn about the house, princess bedding on the child’s bed, and dozens of drawings of a happy girl engaged in various activities.

Now, you have a double-factor problem: Should the detective arrest the kidnapper and return the girl to her parents, where her parents will continue to abuse and neglect her, or should he look the other way and let the kidnapper keep the girl, where the woman will love her and give her a better life?

The upside of the first choice is that the detective will uphold the law and be rewarded for doing a good job. The downside is that he will have to live with the guilt of placing the girl back in a bad situation and sacrificing her future happiness for his career.

The upside of the second choice is that the girl will have a better life, and the detective can secretly take pleasure in knowing he did the right thing for her. The downside is that his choice could ruin his career if anyone discovered what he had done, and he could end up in prison as an accessory.

SAM’s Purpose

So, back to your single audience member, SAM’s purpose is, among other things, to remind you to stay focused on your double-factor problem. SAM ensures you show readers your protagonist’s external actions and internal processing in an impactful way as they work through their problem. SAM also helps you maintain a consistent focus and voice throughout your story.

My Two SAMs

As I mentioned at the beginning of this post, I ended up with two distinctly different stories by using different SAMs. In my first version of the story, SAM was internal to the story as the tale’s antagonist. Both the protagonist and the antagonist struggled with the same problem of being lonely and isolated.

My second story contained the same problem of isolation and loneliness, but this time, SAM was another priest, external to the story, to whom the main character was confiding.

By doing nothing more than swapping out SAM and writing the same story again, I ended up with two drastically different results. Everyone interprets stories differently, but for me, the first one felt light-hearted and humorous. In contrast, the second one gave me a sense of melancholy and allowed me to feel the depth of the priest’s loneliness to a greater degree.

What Do You Think?

Here is a link to my first version of the story.

Cereal Stories

The Other Priest

A flutter on my forehead interrupts my evening ablutions as I remove my tab collar and set it on the counter. I lean into the mirror and stare at the lone hair, a graying sentinel defending the forgotten frontline of a hair battle I lost long ago…

Read more

5 months ago · Clinton De Young

I’ll post the second version below. Read and compare both versions (they’re short) and let me know if swapping out SAM affected the final mood of the story for you. Which one do you like better? Also, what did you learn about the priest in the second version that you didn’t realize about him in the first?

Feel free to leave a comment, reach out to me in a chat, or interact with me in a Note.

The Other Priest (Take Two)

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I knew I had to brush my teeth, but I only had the energy to scrub the front two, maybe. I pulled off my tab collar and leaned on the edge of the counter, contemplating the wrinkles in my face as I dug deep into my aging reserves, scavenging for just enough power to complete my evening ablutions.

Above the furrows plowed into my skin by a lifetime of long days with too many hours and not enough time, I noticed a single gray hair standing at attention high on my forehead, like a sentinel defending the forgotten frontline of a follicular battle lost long ago. I discharged the holdout with a pinch and a tug, and then reached for my toothbrush, which sat in a cup next to the mirror.

As my hand neared the glass, my reflection, which to this point had been diligent in mimicking my every move, stopped. Instead of grabbing its own toothbrush, it reached through the mirror and grasped my hand.

I leaped back in shock, rubbing my hand as if my reflection had bitten me. My carbon copy leaned further into the room and picked up the wintery hair that I had flicked onto the counter. It clicked its tongue in disappointment and told me I should have kept the hair and worked on a combover. Then, it tipped its head back, inspecting my bald pate down the length of its nose, and brushed its hand across my head, despite the lack of any brushable locks.

The replica then complimented my looks and asked me on a date. I jerked my head back, uttering my objection much louder than I intended, then grabbed its wrists, determined to shove it back through to its side of the mirror. Instead, my knuckles hit the glass, refusing to go through, leaving the replica’s hands flapping on my side of the glass.

The carbon copy twisted free from my grip, sandwiched my right hand between its, and asked me out again. I protested, of course, and explained to it that I would lose my congregation if I were to do such a thing.

I shook my hand loose and backed away from the mirror, cornering myself against the back wall of my bathroom. Mirror-me smiled and leapt to sit on its side of the counter. It then spun its bum legs around to my side of the glass and sprang from the counter towards me.

It begged me, pleaded with me to let it stay, using our mutual loneliness as a justification. That declaration of our isolation hit me harder than I expected. The reflection took advantage of my disorientation and advanced closer. I closed my eyes and held up my hands in defense, trying to redirect its desire as it approached and caressed my cheek with the back of its hand. Still, I must confess that the astonishing experience began to tempt me, its companionship tipping the scales against the night of pious solitude I had planned.

My doppleganger leaned against my hands, pressing me to the wall. I felt its lips touch mine. Again, I must confide, I faltered between my angels and my demons for longer than a spiritual man should. However, righteousness prevailed as, eyes still closed against the temptation of companionship, I broke the kiss, shouted *no*, and shoved the reflection away.

When I opened my eyes, I had my palms slammed against the mirror, the reflection once again following my every move. The pungent taste of Windex flooded my mouth.

Elon Musk tossed me off the X platform a couple of weeks ago. Sure, he didn’t do it himself, but his leadership and haphazard approach to technology, as well as his premature reliance on his flawed AI, Grok, still resulted in a permanent suspension of my account without warning or cause.

After a week of appealing to the feckless black hole that is X’s customer support, I realized I didn’t care. So, I disabled my other paid account, disputed its annual fee with my credit card company, and started moving back to Substack.

I logged into my dusty Substack account less than a week ago and have been delightfully surprised by the vast number of new features (Notes, videos, podcasts, etc). Even more impressive is that they actually work; quite well, in fact. Even reporting two CSS z-index bugs on the Branding page was a joy because, unlike the “customer support” AI on X—which tells you you’re ugly and slams the door in your face—Substack’s bot listened, offered some workarounds, and logged a ticket with the engineering team. Here we are one day later, and Substack engineers have fixed both bugs.

Here are some screenshots from yesterday—

—and some screenshots of the same page today.

The difference between Substack and X appears to be that Substack is focused on providing its customers with the best possible writing platform and experience, whereas X prioritizes chasing shiny things at the expense of its customers.

Prior to Elon punting me off his platform and metaphorically pressing his hands over his ears while shouting, “La-la-la-la-la-la,” when I protested, I had stopped writing and instead turned into a habitual doomscroller. I could not muster up an ounce of motivation and thought I’d lost my taste for the written word. However, after returning to Substack for just one week, I’ve written three full-length posts and had some pleasant Note exchanges with members of this wonderful community.

It is amazing how much a well-architected platform can motivate you to pick up something you once loved again. Thanks, Substack!!! I’m sorry I wandered away in the first place.

Ha! How’s that for browntonguing?

I’m currently a member of the Story Grid Guild, whose goal is to teach its members to become world-class writers through in-depth writing theory, scene writing, and working closely with a mentor to ensure you’re understanding the concepts. Obviously, I still have a ways to go, but that’s beside the point.

For our last assignment, my mentor asked me to write a “take a chance on me” story, which is where two will-be lovers meet and one of them asks the other one on a date. As I thought about my scene, I wanted to avoid all the man-asks-woman-out clichés that you see in movies, shows, and other media, and instead write something outlandishly odd. The result is The Other Priest.

Most of my stories originate from dreams or the question, “What if?” This one came from wanting to make my mentor laugh.

I’m just starting my two blogs, but I will be posting content as frequently as possible over the next few weeks. Cereal Stories is where I will post my fiction, and Inkwright, Inc. is where I’ll post behind-the-scenes commentary, writing tips, book and application reviews, and whatever other random thoughts I may have on sitting in front of a computer and typing stuff.

If you like quirky fiction, I hope you’ll consider subscribing to Cereal Stories.

Thanks for reading!

Before we get started, here’s a video version of this book review for those who prefer that sort of thing.

Book Review: How to Write a Novel Using the Snowflake Method by Randy Ingermanson

About Me

Hello, storytellers. My name is Clinton and I have spent the past three decades studying the art of writing. I graduated college with a perfect GPA and a degree in Creative Writing. But I think there are better and less expensive ways to learn to write well, so in this Book Review series, I want to share the books that helped me succeed, and hope they’ll do the same for you.

Today, I want to share my review of How to Write a Novel Using the Snowflake Method by Randy Werbeningermanjenson. That’s not his last name, but it is fun to say. Try it!

Overview

Randy’s is different from other writing books. Where most books tell you how to write, his shows you how to craft a story using a triple murder mystery—starring Goldilocks, The Three Bears, The Three Little Pigs, and The Big Bad Wolf—and uses this tale to teach you how to use his Snowflake Method to draft your novel.

The Snowflake Method is a ten-step approach to outlining. You start by writing an intriguing one-sentence summary for your story. Steps two through ten switch back and forth between story and character development. Each step adds more detail and helps you identify and fix problems with your tale. When you reach step ten, you have your story and characters fully fleshed out and can start writing an engaging novel.

Never fear pantsers and eschewers of outlines! The Snowflake Method has a lot to offer you, too.

Papa Bear

The book starts with Goldilocks attending a writing conference to help her learn how to tell her story. Papa Bear teaches the first seminar she attends. He begins by telling his students to write an outline using five to ten synopses that are fifty to one hundred pages each so they can dig into the details of their stories. Papa Bear holds up Robert Ludlum as a successful author who used this method to outline his books.

Goldilocks tries writing her synopsis but finds her novel boring after three pages. After writing eleven pages, she loathes her story. Papa Bear's synopsis method isn't working, so Goldilocks leaves to look for another option.

Mama Bear

Mama Bear teaches the next seminar and tells her students to let their stories well up from the seat of their pants, the way Stephen King does. Goldilocks tries this method but can't get past the first word of her story. Frustrated again, she leaves and looks for yet another option.

Baby Bear

Next, Goldilocks discovers Baby Bear's class. He suggests she try The Snowflake Method and tells her that tens of thousands of writers worldwide have used it to write their novels.

Goldilocks struggles with the class initially but soon discovers the method works for her. As she writes her World War II action romance using The Snowflake Method, she learns of an old murder mystery, meets the convicted killer, and becomes entangled in a new mystery.

Book’s Goal

Using his story within a lecture within a story within a tutorial, Randy teaches readers how to outline a novel while also sharing many vital aspects of storytelling that many writers miss in their work.

Things I Liked

Some of the things I liked about Ingermanson's book are:

• He acknowledges that people are different and The Snowflake Method isn't for everyone and encourages people to try several writing techniques, including his, and to use the one that best suits them.

• He addresses the issue of embarrassment, which many books don't, and explains how being vulnerable can make a good story excellent. You want to be reasonable with your personal experiences. Nobody wants to read about your toe fungus. But dropping your guard in your writing can add strength and emotion to your stories.

• He uses the mantra "Goal, Conflict, and Setback" to teach writers how to plot an exciting scene, which is similar to other three-word mantras like "Promise, Progress, and Payoff" or "Conflict, Choice, and Consequence" and works just as well.

• He stresses the importance of giving your characters conflicting values, which will make your character interactions more exciting.

• Finally, I liked how this book mentions the importance of showing readers what is going on and letting them reach their own conclusions instead of telling them what they should think about your story. Even published authors sometimes get this wrong.

Things That Could Have Been Better

While Randy did a great job explaining The Snowflake Method, his story format drew attention away from some of the essential aspects of writing he mentioned.

I would have preferred a more straightforward, less-pigs approach for explaining The Snowflake Method, but my opinion is subjective. Randy's story-based style may be the perfect approach for many readers.

Rating

I liked Randy Ingermanson's book, How to Write a Novel Using the Snowflake Method. It doesn't have everything you need to be a great writer, but it at least touches on most topics. For example:

• The book doesn't discuss Grammar and Style, which is a shame because Randy is a good writer and probably has much to offer in this area.

• It lightly touches on Advertising and Marketing, Editing, and Publishing.

• It includes a lot of good information on Story Structure.

• The book's main topic is learning The Snowflake Method for Outlining a story.

Overall, this book is Worth Reading. Learning the principles Randy teaches in this book will make you a better writer.

This book will best serve pantsers struggling with plot holes, flat or chameleonic characters whose attributes change throughout the story, or endings that don't land.

I used to write by the seat of my pants but learned that, for me, pantsing is writing the worst and most ineffective outline possible. On the other hand, The Snowflake Method lets you pants in a more effective way by revealing your story's shortcomings after you've written a handful of pages instead of an entire book.

The Snowflake Method may also be helpful for those who have tried other forms of outlining but need more prose in their outlines to "see" their stories.

You can purchase electronic or paperback versions of How to Write a Novel Using the Snowflake Method from Barnes & Noble, Apple, and other bookstores. Randy also has a blog where you can get more tips on writing. I have included these links as a separate comment beneath this video.

I hope you found this review helpful, and I look forward to seeing you next time.