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How Do I Know If My Novel Idea Is Good?

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The writers and editors quoted below describe two kinds of check.

Some you can run on the idea itself: a character with a goal, opposition, stakes, an ending, enough material for a book. Others need a start on the page: what a quick sketch leads to, and whether the idea still holds you once the first spark fades.

They do not put the weight in the same place. Three authors give written checks for the idea. Three hosts of a writing podcast say the judgment itself is learned, by trying to write ideas or by finishing books.

How much the idea alone tells you

On the writing podcast Writing Excuses, Brandon Sanderson opens an episode on evaluating ideas with what the show often says: ideas are "kind of cheap". "Bad ideas make good books sometimes," he adds.

Then he sets that aside, because "once in a while" he has had "an idea that I was really attached to." The episode takes listeners' questions on how the hosts evaluate their ideas: which to keep, which to drop.

Howard Tayler compares judging ideas to judging people, which he says he is still not very good at. "You have to meet a lot of your ideas and interact with them. You have to explore them. You have to try to write them."

Then, he says, you develop a sense for "Oh, this idea is a three book idea. This idea is a plot twist." As he puts it, "both ideas could be expressed in seven words and look the same until you've worked at it a lot."

C. S. Lakin, a book copyeditor and writing coach, puts it this way on Jane Friedman's site.

"I might be so bold as to say that you could take just about any idea, even if it's pretty lame, and turn it into a terrific concept if you come up with a great kicker."

Checks you can run on the idea

A lead, an objective, conflict, an ending

The author Kristen Lamb sets out, on her blog, the LOCK system from James Scott Bell's book Plot & Structure: Lead, Objective, Conflict, Knockout. She calls it "one method".

Her reason for testing first: "We don't have time to waste writing 30,000 words only to realize our "great idea" cannot support the bulk of a three-act structure." Her critique group has seen that "not all ideas are strong enough to sustain 60,000 or more words."

She turns the system into four questions:

  • "Can I cast a LEAD who is relatable and likable?"
  • "Is this OBJECTIVE something that will keep readers interested for 60-100,000 words?"
  • "Can I create a BBT and opposition force capable of generating plenty of CONFLICT to keep my lead from her objective?" BBT is her "Big Boss Troublemaker".
  • "Does this story problem lend itself to a KNOCKOUT ending?"

On the objective: "Your protagonist must have ONE BIG ACTIVE GOAL. Yes, even literary pieces." Running away from or avoiding something is, for her, "a passive goal. Not good material for novels."

A premise is not yet a plot

Peter Gelfan, a book editor for more than 25 years and a novelist, separates premise from plot on Jane Friedman's site. "A story's premise is the what-if seed that spawns the whole project."

Taking the premise for the plot is, in his words, "a common misconception". "It isn't the plot—it's the seed of a plot. One turns a premise into a plot with this question: who will deal with the premise and how?"

For a story to hit readers as "worthy and memorable", he names "two elements": stakes, then difficulty. The protagonist's task "must seem close to or even beyond impossible."

He grants that some stories have no true plot: "As an artist, you should create what you want." But "If you have a good reason to depart from it, you better also have something else to take up the slack in reader engagement."

A kicker

Lakin's word for what lifts an idea is the kicker. It "isn't the same thing as a plot twist", and "A novel can't ride 400 pages on a kicker in the last chapter." What it does: "Kickers make readers ask questions they want answered."

She does not expect it to arrive on its own: "too many search for this "secret" or magic to take place while writing the novel, hoping it will just develop on its own or appear organically as the story unfolds. It won't. It has to be carefully constructed."

Her questions are for choosing the idea, or for when "you're already writing a novel but feel it's not all that extraordinary". She lists six, introduced as "some of the questions to ask". Four of them:

  • "What is unique and compelling about my central idea for my novel?"
  • "Can I elevate the stakes dramatically for my main character to give the concept heightened drama and suspense?"
  • "What kind of goal can I give my main character that will seem impossible to reach?"
  • "How can I twist the whole idea so that it poses an intriguing dilemma or conflict?"

For formula genres such as cozy mysteries, she writes, "You may not need much of one to sell books, but if you want to write a great story, one that will stand the test of time and be memorable, you'll want to infuse your basic plot with a kicker."

Enough for a novel

An earlier episode takes questions from people at the show's workshop and retreat. Asked how to tell a novel idea from a short story idea, Sanderson first jokes, "It's a novel because…". Tayler: "That's always Brandon's answer."

Mary Robinette Kowal gives three counts: "the number of characters and the number of plot ideas and the number of scenic locations that I'm requiring."

Sanderson then says length is partly a skill. Many of the novellas he has been releasing he "would have only been able to write as a novel" early in his career; now he "could write them as a novel or as a novella."

With practice at plotting a sequence, he says, "you will get a feel for how long that sequence will take." If you introduce one element "and then bring out with that element, that can be a short piece a lot more easily than a novel can be."

Knowing how it ends

Victoria, who publishes as V. E. Schwab, gives her own rule on the podcast, and marks it as hers: "for different people, these things are different, but for me, I don't pursue a story unless I know how it ends."

Her reasons: she is "very prone to quitting", and with an ending she knows "it's a finite amount of space". Also, "we will retroactively reassess an entire book based on how strong or weak the ending is."

A lot of her ideas "steep for anywhere from six months to three or four years". By the time she picks the next one, she says, "I know enough about the story to be able to tell whether it's worth pursuing."

She has "never actually trunked a story" once she started it.

Checks that need a start on the page

A quick sketch, or a little of each

Tayler's test is speed: "you don't need to spend a novel fleshing it out. See how quickly you can flesh it out to determine what it leads to."

In that earlier episode, someone at the retreat also asks how to choose among several ideas. Sanderson recalls asking, before he was published, "What am I most excited about now? Let's write that." With contracts, he now asks which has "The closest deadline, and how can I get excited about it?"

Dan Wells: the one "that jumps out to you. Or if none of them in particular, then start combining them together." Sanderson then builds on that answer: "A little write of each one. See what one you're really getting gripped by that first chapter."

He names the risk in the next breath: "a lot of times writers will find a habitual place that they abandon a story." His example: "Chapter 2 is always hard. They start on chapter 2, and then tell themselves, "Oh, this idea must not be good enough.""

Tayler writes his ideas down, even ones that "may seem completely stupid": "I keep track of them. I write them down. You don't write it down, it's lost forever and you don't get to use it."

In Scrin, a page can start before it has a title, and it becomes a chapter when you're ready.

Excitement, and its limit

Wells, in the episode on evaluating ideas: "for all of us, what it eventually comes down to is passion and excitement, what are you most excited about?" And: "You will be able to write better the idea that you just can't wait to start writing."

Sanderson adds a caveat at once. When a contract is coming due, "you also have to learn how to force yourself to write… Be passionate about something that you've committed to writing. That's a different skill."

Wells replies: "But you presumably committed to that because you were excited about it."

Schwab sees a common thread: "the gut feeling", which she finds "very frustrating, because it is of course unquantifiable." It comes, she says, from consuming "enough narrative to begin to feel in our own work when something is ready and when something is not."

That feeling can be about the writer, not the idea. She sat on one book for six years "because, even though I had the pieces of it, I knew I wasn't ready, I wasn't a strong enough writer."

When the idea dulls partway through

Asked how to keep going once the first spark fades, Schwab names "shiny new idea syndrome". It comes "either 50 pages, 100, 150 pages in", and "That's exactly when you get a new idea."

Her explanation is familiarity. To finish a story "you have to become familiar with the material. As you become familiar with the material, that inherent shine of mystery and elusiveness wears off".

Chasing the new idea, she says, "is a way to never finish anything." Her answer is to finish: "you will learn so much in the process of hitting that finish line."

Before dropping a story, she says, "You need more questions before that last resort." The ones the hosts ask:

  • Why is it hard? Schwab: "You need to understand why you're struggling." Fear of not doing the story justice is not boredom, and boredom, she says, means readers will be bored too.
  • Which kind of problem is it? Tayler's checklist has four levels: "is this an overarching story problem? Is this a scene problem? Is this a chapter problem? Then, is this a me problem?" The last includes "Am I sick? Have I eaten yet today?"
  • Can this chapter be someone's favorite? Sanderson asks, "How can I make this chapter someone's favorite chapter in the whole book?" For newer writers, "most of the time, you should use one of those options rather than abandoning the story."
  • Is it a first book? Wells: "if this is your first book or even your second, just finish it." Finishing, he says, teaches "so much more about evaluating their validity than we can just tell you over the computer here."
  • Is there something to write toward? Schwab's advice, "definitely not prescriptive", is for "somebody who struggles to finish things or finds yourself getting lost on the way": an ending, "or at least having mile markers", scenes you are excited about, "not all be in the first act".

Kowal gives the reason early-career writers hear "finish everything that you write": "you're learning to identify which ideas… You're still training that part of your brain, the identification part".

When the hosts do let an idea go

Asked when to give up on an idea you love, the four hosts of the earlier episode give these answers:

  • Sanderson: "when the idea you came with is distracting from what's become the main plot of the book". It can wait: "I'll do this later."
  • Kowal: when the story would end up "inadvertently reinforcing a negative paradigm about racism or sexism or something"; and "If it's failing to fire. If you don't understand the conflict." One of her ideas waited "about three years before I had a story to hang on it", and she wrote it.
  • Tayler: he went back to the idea he loved and wrote it "backwards into the story". "If that doesn't work, then it's probably time to pick something else."
  • Wells: not "just because you've convinced yourself that it's not going to sell somewhere or that nobody else will like it." If you are still passionate about it, "just keep going."

Before the draft, or through it

The sources put the work in different places. Lamb tests the idea before "writing 30,000 words". Lakin holds that what makes an idea compelling "won't" just appear as the story unfolds: "It has to be carefully constructed."

Tayler describes judging ideas as something learned by trying to write them; Wells and Kowal, by finishing books. Sanderson suggests writing a little of each idea.

The guide on outlining on this site puts the older split this way: "Some writers build everything before the first sentence; others write to find out what they think. Most do both, at different scales, and change from one book to the next."

Who checks what

WhoWhereWhat they checkIn their words
Kristen Lamb, after James Scott Bellher blog, 18 July 2011lead, objective, conflict, knockout ending (4 questions)"not all ideas are strong enough to sustain 60,000 or more words"
Peter GelfanJane Friedman's site, 4 August 2026who deals with the premise, and how; stakes; difficulty (2 elements)"who will deal with the premise and how?"
C. S. LakinJane Friedman's site, 9 March 2015a kicker (6 questions, given as "some")"Kickers make readers ask questions they want answered."
Mary Robinette KowalWriting Excuses 10.4how many characters, plot ideas and places the idea needs (3 counts)"the number of scenic locations that I'm requiring"
V. E. Schwab (Victoria)Writing Excuses 15.10whether she knows the ending, after a long "cook time""I don't pursue a story unless I know how it ends"
Howard TaylerWriting Excuses 15.10what a quick sketch leads to; a four-level checklist when stuck"See how quickly you can flesh it out to determine what it leads to."
Dan WellsWriting Excuses 15.10 and 10.4which idea you are most excited about; finishing a first or second book"what are you most excited about?"
Brandon SandersonWriting Excuses 15.10 and 10.4a little writing of each idea, minding where you usually stop"A little write of each one."

Count: eight people.

Three give written checks: Lamb's 4 questions, Gelfan's question and his 2 elements, and Lakin's 6 questions, 4 of them quoted here. Five speak on the podcast; three of them say the judgment is learned, by trying to write (Tayler) or by finishing (Wells, Kowal), and Sanderson suggests writing a little of each.

Questions to ask of your own idea

  • Who wants what, against whom, toward what kind of ending? Lamb's four LOCK questions.
  • Who will deal with the premise, and how? Gelfan's question; then, are the stakes high and the task close to impossible?
  • What question will it make a reader want answered? Lakin's kicker.
  • How many characters, plot ideas and places does it need? Kowal's three counts.
  • What does a quick sketch, or a first chapter, lead to? Tayler and Sanderson. Note where you usually stop.
  • Do you know how it ends? Schwab's rule for her own books.
  • Is it the one you can't wait to start? Wells.

Questions

How can I tell if my novel idea is good before I start writing? Kristen Lamb, Peter Gelfan and C. S. Lakin give checks: James Scott Bell's LOCK system in Lamb's four questions, Gelfan's "who will deal with the premise and how?", and Lakin's kicker. Howard Tayler adds that judging ideas is learned by trying to write them, and Mary Robinette Kowal that finishing everything you write trains it.

How do I know if my idea is big enough for a novel? Mary Robinette Kowal counts the characters, plot ideas and scenic locations an idea requires. Brandon Sanderson says a story built on one element can be a short piece more easily than a novel. Kristen Lamb's critique group has seen that "not all ideas are strong enough to sustain 60,000 or more words."

Should I trust my excitement about an idea? Dan Wells says that "for all of us, what it eventually comes down to is passion and excitement", and that you write better the idea you "just can't wait to start writing." Brandon Sanderson adds that with a contract due, being passionate about what you have committed to is "a different skill".

What if my idea feels worse a hundred pages in? V. E. Schwab calls it shiny new idea syndrome, "either 50 pages, 100, 150 pages in": the shine wears off as the material becomes familiar. She and Howard Tayler look for why the story is hard before dropping it. Dan Wells says to finish a first or second book.

Can a weak idea still become a good novel? Brandon Sanderson says "Bad ideas make good books sometimes", though he has had ideas he was "really attached to". C. S. Lakin "might be so bold as to say" that "just about any idea, even if it's pretty lame" can become "a terrific concept if you come up with a great kicker."

Do I need to know the ending before I start? V. E. Schwab doesn't pursue a story "unless I know how it ends", and says that "for different people, these things are different". Kristen Lamb's fourth question asks whether the story problem lends itself to a "KNOCKOUT ending".

Sources