Craft Book Lessons: The Anatomy of Story—Fiction Writing Essentials

🍁 October greetings, writers! 🍁

Fall always makes me want to hunker down with projects, and this year I’m kicking off a new monthly blog series where I share lessons from writing craft books and how they connect to fiction writing.

There are so many out there, and while not every book resonates the same way, I’ve found there’s usually at least one takeaway I can bring back to my fiction.

For October, I turned to John Truby’s The Anatomy of Story. It’s a hefty, detailed book with his famous 22-step structure, but what struck me most were some of his bigger-picture ideas.

Here are four lessons I pulled out from this craft book on fiction writing, and how I’m thinking about applying them to my own stories:

1. In fiction, stories are built on moral struggle

Truby insists that a strong story isn’t just about what happens—it’s about moral struggle. A protagonist begins with a moral weakness, a blind spot or flaw that harms themselves or others.

The plot forces them to confront this weakness, and the real journey is whether or not they change. It’s a deeper way of thinking about character than “flaws make them interesting.”

In his book, Truby is saying the core of the story is moral. The choices your character makes, especially when they hurt others, are what keep readers invested.

For me, this is a reminder not to get too caught up in just the external twists and suspenseful setups.

As I draft, I want to ask: what moral choice is my character avoiding? And how might the plot slowly force her to face it?

I’m not sure I’ve nailed that balance yet, but I can see how building around moral struggle could give my stories more weight.

2. Desire and need work together

Another of Truby’s big points in The Anatomy of Story is that a character’s desire (what they want) and their need (what they must discover about themselves) are not the same. This tension between character desire vs. need is at the heart of strong fiction writing.

In a nutshell: Desire drives the external story; need drives the internal change.

Think of it like this: a character may desire justice, revenge, or love—but what they actually need is growth: to forgive, to trust, to accept themselves.

When a story weaves both levels together, it feels layered and satisfying.

This is something I want to pay more attention to in my own suspense writing. My characters’ external desires are clear—solve the case, escape the danger, expose the truth.

But I’m realizing I don’t always give them a personal need that clashes with those desires. If I can do both, I think it could deepen the emotional payoff.

3. Antagonists should be written at value-driven opponents

In The Anatomy of Story, Truby also reframes the idea of an “opponent.” He argues the antagonist isn’t just someone standing in the hero’s way; they represent a competing set of values.

As such, the best conflicts happen when the villain wants something just as passionately as the hero does, but for different reasons. This way of thinking prevents flat, mustache-twirling bad guys.

In other words, the opponent matters because they force the hero to confront not just obstacles but questions of what matters most.

As I think about my own work, this struck a chord. In the past, I've sometimes sketched villains in terms of what they do instead of what they believe.

Reading Truby made me wonder: what values drive my antagonists? How do those values put them in direct opposition to my protagonist’s?

I'm glad I've studied story craft, as I definitely kept this in mind while I drafted. And although I don’t have all the answers yet, but it’s something I want to explore even more deeply in revision.

4. Revelation and moral decision deliver theme in fiction writing

Finally, Truby emphasizes that the climax of a story isn’t just the “final battle” or confrontation. It’s the moment of revelation (the hero finally sees the truth about themselves) and moral decision (they act on it).

That combination, he says, is what delivers theme.

Conversely, without that revelation and decision, a story can feel hollow. Readers might get a resolution to the plot but miss the sense of “this is what it was really about.”

I like thinking about this in practical terms. As I revise, I want to ask: what does my character realize in the end? And what choice does she make that shows it?

I don’t always think of theme in the drafting stage, but I'm wondering if maybe if I pay more attention to revelation and decision, theme will naturally emerge.

Final thoughts from this craft book: Fiction writing essentials

The Anatomy of Story is dense, and it's really hard to keep all of his points organized in my head while I write. I'm sure not everything in it is going to find a place in my current draft.

But these four ideas—moral struggle, desire vs. need, value-driven opponents, and revelation + decision—gave me new questions to ask myself as a fiction writer, especially as I'm entering the revision phase with my draft.

I’m not approaching them as rules, but as tools. And that’s how I like to use craft books: as little matches for inspiration. Not every match lights a fire, but sometimes one catches on enough to show me where to go with my writing process.

I know that sounds cheesy, but hey, that's how my mind works! :)

Have you read Truby’s The Anatomy of Story? What lessons stood out to you, and how have you applied them in your own fiction? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments or in a message here.

Peace & plenty,