and colorful. I want to write a story that jells together, where the whole is bigger than its parts.

Last year, I edited a wonderful book, “The End Justifies The Means” by TArik Moore. It was a coming-of-age story about the tragedy of a ten-year-old inner city boy who stabbed his father to death because he thought he was killing his mother. He finally went to college and helped carve out a better life for his hoodlum cousins and himself. The first thing I did was to read and find a premise. “Good can co

What you want to say depends on your novel’s worth. In other words, are you saying anything worthwhile? Whether your story is drama, comedy, erotica, it needs a point, a statement of belief—a premise. But just what is that scary word, premise?

Premise is simply what you believe, or want your reader to believe. It’s what you want to say about a subject. What you want to prove. There are times when you’re in an argument with someone that makes no sense, and you’ll say, “What’s your point?”

They begin to “focus” and tell you what’s really bothering them.

“Well, you took my blouse and didn’t ask, and I want you to know I don’t appreciate it.” What they believe is that people shouldn’t borrow things without returning them.

When you start your story, you’re thinking about a lot of things, drawing the reader into the story, starting with action, giving the who, what, when, where, how, but all of those elements are just floating around in your head. You have to decide what you really believe is the heart of this story. It’s what you want to say. What you want to prove with each chapter. In this case, you took my blouse and that’s not right. That’s your premise—borrowing without consent leads to turmoil.

Now every chapter of your book must prove that borrowing leads to turmoil. That kind of pre-thinking is the only thing that will keep you from wandering around wasting time, writing great stuff that doesn’t move your story forward because you don't have a cohesive story. Writing is about “selecting” which experiences will prove your point--premise. I think of my biggest joy and make a statement about it. That’s my premise for a feel-good book. I think of my greatest pain for a drama and decide what it will lead to. I ask myself, where does that particular pain lead? When I decide, I have a path that leads me to a story and its logical ending. That way, I don’t spend 10 years putting in and taking out, just because I remember those unforgettable experiences like I did. Just because the scenes are vivid and colorful. I want to write a story that jells together, where the whole is bigger than its parts.

Last year, I edited a wonderful book, “The End Justifies The Means” by TArik Moore. It was a coming-of-age story about the tragedy of a ten-year-old inner city boy who stabbed his father to death because he thought he was killing his mother. He finally went to college and helped carve out a better life for his hoodlum cousins and himself. The first thing I did was to read and find a premise. “Good can co

gin to “focus” and tell you what’s really bothering them.

“Well, you took my blouse and didn’t ask, and I want you to know I don’t appreciate it.” What they believe is that people shouldn’t borrow things without returning them.

When you start your story, you’re thinking about a lot of things, drawing the reader into the story, starting with action, giving the who, what, when, where, how, but all of those elements are just floating around in your head. You have to decide what you really believe is the heart of this story. It’s what you want to say. What you want to prove with each chapter. In this case, you took my blouse and that’s not right. That’s your premise—borrowing without consent leads to turmoil.

Now every chapter of your book must prove that borrowing leads to turmoil. That kind of pre-thinking is the only thing that will keep you from wandering around wasting time, writing great stuff that doesn’t move your story forward because you don't have a cohesive story. Writing is about “selecting” which experiences will prove your point--premise. I think of my biggest joy and make a statement about it. That’s my premise for a feel-good book. I think of my greatest pain for a drama and decide what it will lead to. I ask myself, where does that particular pain lead? When I decide, I have a path that leads me to a story and its logical ending. That way, I don’t spend 10 years putting in and taking out, just because I remember those unforgettable experiences like I did. Just because the scenes are vivid and colorful. I want to write a story that jells together, where the whole is bigger than its parts.

Last year, I edited a wonderful book, “The End Justifies The Means” by TArik Moore. It was a coming-of-age story about the tragedy of a ten-year-old inner city boy who stabbed his father to death because he thought he was killing his mother. He finally went to college and helped carve out a better life for his hoodlum cousins and himself. The first thing I did was to read and find a premise. “Good can co

heart of this story. It’s what you want to say. What you want to prove with each chapter. In this case, you took my blouse and that’s not right. That’s your premise—borrowing without consent leads to turmoil.

Now every chapter of your book must prove that borrowing leads to turmoil. That kind of pre-thinking is the only thing that will keep you from wandering around wasting time, writing great stuff that doesn’t move your story forward because you don't have a cohesive story. Writing is about “selecting” which experiences will prove your point--premise. I think of my biggest joy and make a statement about it. That’s my premise for a feel-good book. I think of my greatest pain for a drama and decide what it will lead to. I ask myself, where does that particular pain lead? When I decide, I have a path that leads me to a story and its logical ending. That way, I don’t spend 10 years putting in and taking out, just because I remember those unforgettable experiences like I did. Just because the scenes are vivid and colorful. I want to write a story that jells together, where the whole is bigger than its parts.

Last year, I edited a wonderful book, “The End Justifies The Means” by TArik Moore. It was a coming-of-age story about the tragedy of a ten-year-old inner city boy who stabbed his father to death because he thought he was killing his mother. He finally went to college and helped carve out a better life for his hoodlum cousins and himself. The first thing I did was to read and find a premise. “Good can co

which experiences will prove your point--premise. I think of my biggest joy and make a statement about it. That’s my premise for a feel-good book. I think of my greatest pain for a drama and decide what it will lead to. I ask myself, where does that particular pain lead? When I decide, I have a path that leads me to a story and its logical ending. That way, I don’t spend 10 years putting in and taking out, just because I remember those unforgettable experiences like I did. Just because the scenes are vivid and colorful. I want to write a story that jells together, where the whole is bigger than its parts.

Last year, I edited a wonderful book, “The End Justifies The Means” by TArik Moore. It was a coming-of-age story about the tragedy of a ten-year-old inner city boy who stabbed his father to death because he thought he was killing his mother. He finally went to college and helped carve out a better life for his hoodlum cousins and himself. The first thing I did was to read and find a premise. “Good can co

and colorful. I want to write a story that jells together, where the whole is bigger than its parts.

Last year, I edited a wonderful book, “The End Justifies The Means” by TArik Moore. It was a coming-of-age story about the tragedy of a ten-year-old inner city boy who stabbed his father to death because he thought he was killing his mother. He finally went to college and helped carve out a better life for his hoodlum cousins and himself. The first thing I did was to read and find a premise. “Good can come out of the ghetto.”

At times, it was so bad for the kid I wondered how good could ever come out of that ghetto. The ghetto could have sucked him in, but the premise said good could come out of the ghetto. We cut out every chapter that didn’t prove that good could come out of the ghetto. We didn't allow him to get too bad with his cousins. Each chapter proved something good was coming out of that New Jersey ghetto. And it turned out to be a sound, compelling story that is making its way to a market that waits for it.

The Mayor’s Wife Wore Sapphires—premise: division in the Black race hinders progress. From my years as a mayor’s wife, I always saw great potential in our people, but when the rubber met the road, was always division. A lack of commitment to lift each other up. I wanted to see unity. So each chapter had to show that division hinders progress. My main character confronted and dealt with division, and we saw some degree of unity in the end.

Gone With the Wind—premise: Obsessive love leads to devastation. Scarlett loved Ashley in the beginning, and in the end when his wife dies, they realize they can never marry. Scarlett has lost her daughter, the dashing man, Rhett Butler, who she realized loved her and she loved him. But his answer to her. “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.” She is devastated!

The Godfather—premise: Immigrants seeking justice and gaining a legal life in America leads to tragedy. In the beginning, godfather helps immigrants in America with justice; in the end, the father is dead without seeing his dream come true. His son is just beginning to clean up the mafia life and move the family to Vegas. To do that, he has to kill off all the heads of the five New York families, and in end, the son, Michael, has lost his mother, wife, unborn baby, and brother. Talk about tragedy! But the premise said that "taking the law in your own hands leads to tragedy." So Puzo followed the path to the logical end.