Last week I wrote about the difference between coaching and editing—how coaching fixes the writer while editing just fixes the manuscript. Today I want to share a real example of that distinction in action, because it perfectly illustrates why structural thinking matters more than surface fixes.
The Setup
I was running a workshop session where we were discussing a writer’s crime novella. The craft was solid—really solid. The dialogue crackled, the action scenes were visual and kinetic, and the voice was consistent throughout. This wasn’t a case of needing to “level up” basic writing skills.
But something fundamental wasn’t working.
The Problem Everyone Could Feel
The story opened with a classic premise: experienced criminal decides to get out of the game, agrees to “one last job” to fund his escape, everything goes wrong, and now he’s trapped.
We’ve all seen this setup. It works because it gives the character clear motivation (escape) and the reader clear stakes (will he make it out?).
But as we discussed the story, the same question kept coming up: “Why doesn’t he just leave?”
The protagonist had:
- Enough money saved up
- A girlfriend ready to go with him
- Plane tickets to a safe location
- A solid escape plan
Yet when things went sideways, instead of executing that plan, he made a series of increasingly violent and self-destructive choices that guaranteed he’d never escape.
The Editing Approach vs. The Coaching Approach
An editor might have said: “The character’s motivations aren’t clear. Add some internal monologue explaining why he can’t leave. Maybe show us why the money isn’t enough, or why the escape route is compromised.”
That’s fixing the symptom, not the disease.
As we discussed the story, I started seeing a different pattern. The writer kept explaining elaborate backstory reasons for why the character couldn’t just leave—reasons that weren’t on the page and would require significant additions to make work.
More importantly, when I asked the writer what he really wanted the story to be about, he said: “I want to show a guy who’s trapped in this life. He’s never getting out. The idea that he could escape is just a fantasy.”
The Breakthrough Moment
That’s when it clicked.
The writer wanted to tell a story about a man trapped by the life he’d chosen. But he’d accidentally started with a story about a man with a clear escape route.
The premise—the “one last job” setup—was fighting against the story he actually wanted to tell.
The Solution: Strategic Subtraction
Instead of trying to build elaborate justifications for why a character with options wouldn’t use them, we explored a different approach:
What if we removed the options entirely?
What if instead of starting with a guy ready to retire, we started with a guy who’s fully committed to the game? No escape plan, no girlfriend waiting to flee the country, no nest egg.
Just a professional criminal who gets double-crossed and has to figure out how to survive.
Suddenly:
- His violent choices make tactical sense
- His decision to stay and fight instead of flee becomes logical
- The reader isn’t constantly expecting him to do the obvious thing
- The story becomes about what the writer actually wanted to explore
Why This Matters for Your Writing
This is structural problem-solving. It’s about recognizing when the foundation of your story is working against the story you want to tell.
Sometimes the solution isn’t to add more material to justify your premise. Sometimes it’s to change the premise to match your story.
Here are some warning signs that your premise might be fighting your story:
Your character keeps making choices that don’t make sense given their situation. If you find yourself constantly having to justify why your character doesn’t take the obvious action, your setup might be the problem.
You’re spending a lot of energy explaining rather than showing. When you need extensive internal monologue to make character choices believable, you might be forcing incompatible elements together.
Readers keep asking “Why don’t they just…?” If multiple readers suggest the same obvious solution your character isn’t taking, listen to them.
Your story feels like it’s fighting you. If every scene requires elaborate justification and setup, you might be working against your own premise.
The Deeper Lesson
This is why I believe in coaching over editing for most writers. An editor would have tried to fix this story by adding material to support the existing premise. But the real problem wasn’t execution—it was conception.
The writer had all the skills needed to tell a compelling story. He just needed to align his premise with his actual intentions.
Once we identified that disconnect, the solution became obvious. And more importantly, the writer learned something he could apply to future projects: how to recognize when your setup is working against your story instead of for it.
Your Story’s Foundation
Before you spend months trying to make your premise work, ask yourself:
- What story do I actually want to tell?
- Does my opening setup serve that story or fight it?
- Am I creating problems I have to solve, or problems that serve my story?
Sometimes the most powerful revision tool isn’t addition—it’s strategic subtraction.
Is your story fighting you instead of flowing? This kind of structural problem-solving is exactly what coaching addresses. Learn more about my approach or schedule a free consultation to discuss your project.
