Breaking Your Story to Make It Stronger

Become a literary architect who isn’t afraid of demolition day

When Your Story Feels Like It’s Wearing Someone Else’s Clothes

You know that feeling when you put on an outfit that looks amazing on the hanger but somehow makes you look like you’re playing dress-up in your mom’s closet? That’s what happens when you try to force your unique story into a cookie-cutter structure that just doesn’t fit.

Maybe you’ve followed every three-act structure guide religiously, hit every beat sheet point, and somehow your story still feels...off. Like a square peg being hammered into a round hole. Your characters are doing what they’re “supposed” to do, your plot hits the “right” points, but the whole thing feels as natural as a penguin in the Sahara.

Here’s the brutal truth: some stories aren’t meant to follow traditional structures. Some narratives need to be broken down to their elemental parts and rebuilt in entirely new ways. That’s where things get interesting (and a little scary).

The Solution: Deconstruction and Reconstruction Method

Think of this as literary renovation with a sledgehammer and a blueprint. This doesn’t involve rearranging furniture; you’re tearing down walls to create something completely new while keeping the foundation (your core story) intact.

This method involves systematically breaking down your story into its component parts—plot, character arcs, themes, conflicts—then rebuilding them in ways that serve your specific narrative rather than forcing it into predetermined molds. It’s like taking apart a watch to understand how it works, then rebuilding it as a grandfather clock because that’s what your story actually wants to be.

The Journey: From Demolition to Masterpiece

Step 1: Identify What's Not Working (The Brutal Honesty Phase)

Print out your manuscript and arm yourself with three different colored pens. Go through and mark:

• Red: Scenes that feel forced or unnatural

• Yellow: Moments where characters act out of character to serve plot

• Blue: Places where the pacing feels off or the structure seems arbitrary

If your manuscript looks like a rainbow by the end, congratulations—you’re ready for deconstruction!

Step 2: Extract Your Core Elements

Create separate documents for:

• Character motivations (not actions, motivations—what they really want)

• Central conflicts (internal and external)

• Themes (what your story is actually about)

• Key emotional moments (the scenes that made you cry while writing)

• Plot events (just the facts, ma’am)

Think of this as creating an inventory of your story’s DNA.

Step 3: Question Everything (The Socratic Method for Fiction)

For each element, ask:

• Why does this happen when it does?

• What if this character wanted the opposite?

• What if this conflict happened earlier/later/not at all?

• Does this scene exist because my story needs it, or because structure guides say I need it?

Be ruthless. If you can’t answer “because my story demands it,” that element might need to go.

Step 4: Find Your Story's Natural Rhythm

Look at your core elements without any preconceived structural notions. What order do they naturally want to occur in? What structure would best serve your themes? If your story were a song, would it be a ballad, a rock anthem, or experimental jazz?

Step 5: Rebuild with Intention

Now reconstruct your story based on what you discovered. This might mean:

• Starting in the middle and working outward

• Interweaving multiple timelines

• Organizing around themes rather than chronology

• Creating a structure that mirrors your central metaphor

Step 6: Test Your New Architecture

Does your reconstructed story feel more organic? Do character actions feel natural rather than plot-driven? If you’re nodding yes, you've successfully deconstructed and reconstructed. If not, don’t despair—sometimes it takes a few demolition rounds to get it right.

Authors Who Broke the Rules

“Cloud Atlas” by David Mitchell is deconstruction and reconstruction in its purest form. Mitchell took six different stories, broke them into halves, and nested them like Russian dolls. The result? A structure that mirrors the book’s themes about interconnectedness and recurring patterns across time. It’s absolutely bonkers on paper, but it works brilliantly.

“The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao” by Junot Díaz deconstructs the typical immigrant family saga and rebuilds it with footnotes, multiple narrators, and genre-hopping that includes everything from comic book references to Dominican history. Díaz looked at his story and said, “Linear narrative can't contain this experience,” then built something that could.

“Station Eleven” by Emily St. John Mandel takes the post-apocalyptic genre and completely reconstructs it around interconnected character stories rather than survival action. Instead of following the traditional “disaster strikes, people struggle, resolution” arc, Mandel created a mosaic structure that reveals how art and human connection persist through catastrophe.

When to Use This Nuclear Option

The deconstruction method is your friend when:

• Traditional structures make your story feel generic despite unique content

• Your characters keep fighting against the plot you’ve imposed on them

• Beta readers say your story feels “formulaic” even though you know it’s not

• You have multiple POVs, timelines, or genres that don’t play well with standard formats

• Your theme is complex enough to require innovative structural support

• You’re writing experimental or literary fiction that needs to push boundaries

The Scary Truth About Deconstruction

This method requires courage because you might discover that your story wants to be something completely different from what you planned. That romance might actually be a thriller. That literary novel might need science fiction elements. That linear narrative might need to be told backwards, forwards, and sideways.

It’s like opening a can of worms, except the worms are actually beautiful butterflies, but also you might have to rebuild your entire garden to accommodate butterfly habitats. (Okay, that metaphor got away from me, but you get the idea.)

What This Method Can’t Fix

Let’s be real: deconstruction and reconstruction won’t save a story with fundamental problems. If your characters are flat, your prose is clunky, or your central premise doesn’t work, no amount of structural innovation will help. Think of it as advanced surgery—the patient needs to be basically healthy before you start rearranging organs.

Also, don’t deconstruct just to be different. Experimental structure should serve your story, not overshadow it. You’re creating a reading experience, not a puzzle designed to prove how clever you are.

The Reconstruction Mindset

Remember, you’re not destroying your story—you’re setting it free. Sometimes the most beautiful buildings come from architects who looked at a space and said, “What if we ignored what's supposed to go here and built what wants to be here instead?”

Your story has its own logic, its own natural structure. Traditional formats work for many narratives, but not all. Some stories need custom architecture, and that’s okay. In fact, it’s more than okay—it’s where the magic happens.

Ready to Get Your Hands Dirty?

The deconstruction and reconstruction method isn’t for the faint of heart, but it’s for the writers who suspect their stories are bigger, weirder, and more wonderful than the boxes they’ve been trying to fit them into. It’s for authors who want to honor their narrative’s true nature, even if that means building something the world has never seen before.

Remember, every innovative structure was once someone’s crazy experiment. Someone had to be the first to write a story told through footnotes, or through multiple timelines, or backwards, or as a series of interconnected vignettes. Why not you?

Ready to discover what your story really wants to be? Let’s work together to deconstruct your manuscript and rebuild it stronger, stranger, and more authentically you. Contact me for your free consultation, and let’s see what beautiful, unexpected structure is waiting inside your story.

After all, some of the most beautiful buildings are the ones that make people stop and say, “I’ve never seen anything like that before.” Your story deserves the same reaction.

xoxo,