It uncovered killer creative practices that I didnāt even realize I was deploying. Because frankly, I was writing pretty damn blind.
This was a transformative exercise for three reasons:
I could intentionally implement the practices ChatGPT had illuminated, rather than just crossing my fingers and hoping the shit I was pumping out was good enough for people to actually read. š¤
I could drill down on why these practices worked. š¤
And I could start teaching them. ā„ļø
Today, weāre going to cover one of my signature practices, (per the AI overlords)ā
Dropping the reader into a shit-storm. š©
-Kristin š·
āļø Sentence School: Shit-storms are the new hooks.
š„ The Writerās Pour: Exercises that will help you lead with the most exciting parts of your story.
šļø Drunk Talk: Iām LinkedOut of LinkedIn.
š¤ Robot Pals: This basic prompt will give you crazy clarity.
Whatās the difference between a story and a lecture?
A story has a beginning, a middle, and an end (like the Heroās Journey we covered in a recent issue). Thatās the formula. And if you want to be a good storyteller, you must master that formula.
But if you want to be a badass storyteller, after you master that formula, you gotta shred it.
In Hollywood, itās called a ācold openingā ā when they skip the setup, and smack the audience with a car chase, casino brawl, or carnal sex scene. š³
In writing, we call it a āhookā ā a sentence or two at the top of a story that draws the reader in.
But when ChatGPT analyzed my writing, AI opted to call it:
š Dropping the reader into a shit-storm.
Worst nightmare. Source: Giphy
Yep. Thatās definitely my style.
This phrasing is surprisingly helpful because writing a āhookā feels so damn abstract. But ādropping the reader into a shit-stormā feels like an instruction that we can all follow.
And it does the same job of a āhookā, because it creates immediate questions in your readerās mind that theyāre dying to have answered.
So here are three powerful ways to drop your reader into a shit-storm. š
Donāt give your readers any context ā just kick things off with a high-stakes moment from somewhere in the middle of your story. Then circle back to fill in intellectual details after theyāre emotionally invested.
Donāt forget to paint a vivid picture.
Hereās an example:
āItās just not a good fit,ā he chirped at me from across the desk.
My periphery began to close in, until all I could see was his smug face, and the marching band behind his eyes, celebrating his momentous win.
Iād like to say that I was shocked he was firing me. But his behavior had crushed my confidence so much that it was almost a relief that he was finally saying these words.
The final straw for him had occurred a few days before when he had embarrassed himself in front of our CEO ā and I happened to be there to save the situation.
He couldnāt even look at me anymore.
He had to get rid of me.
Hit your reader with an unexpected, jarring statement that forces them to read further.
A great way to uncover this statement is write your story first, then pull out an emotionally-charged truth.
Then write it as if you were blurting it to a friend after two drinks ā and stick it right at the top.
Hereās an example:
When it comes to shit-your-pants moments, one man has all of us beat.
Heās a god among men.
A lion in a herd of wildebeest.
And chances are, you were there for his big āincidentā.
Youāre at a breaking point ā forced to make a difficult choice with no time to hesitate.
This is a riveting place to kick-off your story.
Hereās an example:
I knew I needed to leave that loser, and get out of that horrible situation, and the prospect of working on cruise ships gave me something I hadnāt had in a whileā
Options.
I know what youāre thinking ā wonāt readers be confused?
Yeah, a little. And thatās a good thing.
The key is to delay explanations but not deny them entirely. A tantalizing hook without a meaty payoff is just clickbait. Donāt do that shit.
Dive into some exercises to put what youāve just learned about dropping the reader into a shit-storm into practice. šļø
Exercise #1 - Short ā±ļø
Grab a story youāve already written, and re-write the first two sentences in one of three ways:
1. By starting with action
2. By starting with a shocking statement
3. By starting in the middle of a critical decision
If you really want to challenge yourself, try all three!
Here are some examples:
ORIGINAL (starting at the beginning ā boring!):
The first time I covered parental leave, my (male) boss was planning to take about a month off to welcome his second child ā which was offered to him fully paid by our employer, Grollo Group. His responsibilities were to be split between myself and our finance manager.
Starting with action:
My inbox was vomiting unread messages when my boss waddled in, belly-first, to announce her three-month maternity leave. I clenched my jaw, already juggling two jobs, knowing a third was about to land in my lap.
Starting with a shocking statement
They expected me to cover my bossās three-month maternity leave ā for free. My employer called it an āopportunity,ā but I called it theft.
Starting in the middle of a critical decision
It seemed I had two choices ā swallow the extra workload with a smile, or demand to be paid for it. I chose option three ā rage.
Exercise #2 ā Long ā³
Craft a 5-10 sentence āopening shit-stormā where you intentionally confuse the reader, waiting until the final moment to deliver context. Notice how the tension builds.
If you need some inspiration, use this prompt:
š Describe a time when you experienced crippling imposter syndrome.
Hereās an example:
F*ck f*ck f*ck.
My new boss hovered over my shoulder like some disappointed dad watching his kid bomb a math test. He audibly harrumphed as I tediously typed numbers from my calculator into spreadsheet cells like a goddamn caveman ā with no earthly idea that Excel was capable of performing basic arithmetic.
This was supposed to be my dream job. Instead, it was rapidly becoming the most mortifying moment of my professional life.
To be fair ā not a single question in the countless interviews I had endured addressed my proficiency in baseline office software. But my new employer was shocked to discover just how hopeless I was with computers.
Exercise #3 ā Reflective š§
Make a list of your three favorite movies.
Then go back, and watch the first 10 minutes of each, and put them into one of these four categories:
1. It dropped me into action
2. It shocked me
3. It pulled me into a critical decision
4. It did none of these things
Repeat this with more movies if youāre up for it!
Ok, I did miss a few days, but I made up for them by posting twice before the end of the month. š
So why did I do this?
Because LinkedIn has been my primary growth lever for Drunk Business Advice since day one. Itās a pretty simple formula. šļø
Back in February, I decided to challenge myself to post every day of the month. Since this is where my subscribers were coming from, why not double-down on it, and try to get more juice out of that squeeze, right?
It worked pretty damn well. I gained ~400 new followers on LinkedIn, and ~150 new subscribers for Drunk Business Advice.
So I decided to try the same thing again in August, but I made one change:
š I changed the link in the āView my newsletterā CTA to Drunk WRITING Advice.
Yep. This newsletter.
So instead of my core offer being free business content, it was not free writing content.
And just like last time, I gained over 400 followers in August. But not like last time, I gained ZERO newsletter subscribers (from LinkedIn, that is).
Ouch. I was expecting at least a handful.
As much as that hurts, itās not a failure ā itās critical data.
While I still believe there are people on LinkedIn who would value Drunk Writing Advice,(and certainly plenty who need it), itās not really a mecca for word-lovers who are willing to pay for a newsletter about writing.
But you know what might be?
šļø Substack.
So Iāll be hanging out over there in September, and Iāll update you on what I find!
Are any of you avid Substackers? Hit reply and give me all the tips. š
Humans are horrible at evaluating themselves. Thank god we now have AI to cover that shit.
None of us do. Source: Giphy
I was inspired to ask AI to analyze my writing for one very specific reason:
š People kept asking me for writing advice.
After the first few months of publishing Drunk Business Advice, I began getting messages from lovely readers asking if I had any tips to help them improve their writing.
I was, of course, incredibly flattered, and eager to help if I could.
But flattery quickly gave way to dread. Because in all honesty, I didnāt know what to tell them.
I didnāt have a āprocessā for writing DBA. It felt like I was just grasping at ideas, and somehow tying them together.
Frankly, it felt like talent ā not skill.
But the only reason it felt like that was because I hadnāt evaluated anything that I was doing. I didnāt hold up a mirror to myself. I was blind to my own process.
Operating like that made writing feel chaotic ā and it also made it impossible for me to help others.
It wasnāt until after I turned to AI to analyze my writing that I realized I did have a process. I did have a formula. I did have identifiable, teachable, and improvable skills.
You do, too.
So gather up some of your writing, and drop into AI with this prompt:
Iām going to provide you with several samples of my writing. Iād like you to analyze the structure, style, and voice that appears consistently. Look for literary devices I deploy, how I frame my point of view, and what makes my writing unique. Then I want you to craft a guide that will help me clarify my writing process. Are you ready?
Try this and tell me if it was helpful!
I donāt take my place in your inbox for granted.
Itās an honor to be welcomed into your world, and I know I have to work to continue to earn it, week after week. So if you have feedback, or if thereās a topic you want me to cover, just hit reply and tell me!
And if you love Drunk Writing Advice, consider sharing it with a friend. š„°