If you’re wondering why your writing’s flat, you probably didn’t arrive at the word “flat” yourself. To you, it just feels off. Like it’s missing something. Like it’s almost where you want it to be. Like it’s just not landing. Like it’s writing pretending to be writing. And then the interwebs coined the term “flat” for you.

You just can’t figure out what’s wrong. And you might be at the point where you’re ready to just tell yourself you’re not talented. That this is a skill issue. Some writers just have “it” and you don’t. Which are all things I told myself that actually kept me from writing fiction for a long time. Too long.

But that’s not the case. You know your writing is working in some ways.

It’s technically good, meaning it progresses the plot, shows instead of tells, develops the character, has impeccable grammar. It works.

But emotionally, it’s flat.

This isn’t just you being picky. It’s not perfectionism. If you’re feeling the difference, it’s there. Most writers just ignore it and move on because they’re able to make the picture in the reader’s mind. And that’s good enough for them.

But you notice the difference.

It’s the difference between this scene:

She stared at the crack in the wall, her stomach tight.

He hadn’t even looked at her when he said it. She couldn’t believe he would lie about this.

Her fists clenched until fingernails left biting marks.

“Fine,” she felt the dread squeeze around her words. “Do whatever you want.”

And this exact same scene:

She never noticed the crack in the wall before. Her eyes followed it until it disappeared behind the bookshelf.

He hadn’t even looked at her when he said it.

The crack had probably always been there.

The room felt smaller than it had a second ago. She found herself scanning the walls, the corners, wondering what else she hadn’t seen.

How many there were. How deep they ran.

She pressed her thumb into the edge of the table and watched the skin pale.

“Fine,” she said. “Do whatever you want.”

The difference between flat writing and dimensional writing

You can feel that this is more than just clearer descriptions or adding more words. It’s not even simply “using metaphor”. Yes, there is more metaphor use. Yes, we have removed the “telling” of emotions (dread) from the first example. But the core of the scene is still there.

• She’s looking anywhere else
• Something was said
• “He” has done something
• She’s emotionally unwell hearing the news

Is this a show don’t tell issue? No. Because the first version has showing. The tight stomach, the fingernails leaving biting marks. These are telltale (ha!) examples of “showing” and yet, that version is still flat compared to the second. That’s why “show, don’t tell” doesn’t always fix writing.

So where does the difference between flat writing and dimensional writing show up? Why does the second version feel like it’s more impactful than the first one? How do you fix flat writing?

The answer isn’t actually solely what the writer has done.

It’s what the writing gets the reader to do.

The misunderstanding most writers have about their job

How to fix flat writing

The reason you have “good” writing but still feel like something’s missing isn’t because you’re a bad writer. It’s just that the reader has less to do. Which means the fix is to let the reader do some work. Easier said than done, though. Because this isn’t a case of learning how to make writing more emotional necessarily.

I’ve written over a million words of fiction, and well over that in articles over the years. It took me 11 years consistently writing and studying fiction to figure this out, and it’s not as easy as “add subtext.”

So I’ve put together some examples, side-by-side, to help you start feeling and noticing the difference.

(some of these are my actual writing, in which I’ll do my best not to cringe so hard you feel it through your device).

Flat writing fix 1: dialogue

This works even with dialogue. There’s a difference between giving the reader exactly what the characters are feeling, and creating the sense of what’s going on behind the scenes. Because people rarely actually say how they feel.

Specifically look at what he says: “I was trying to protect us.” versus “I do what I have to.” The first one gives us exactly what’s happening internally for him. The second allows us to detect that’s how he feels without having said so.

Flat writing fix 2: self-description

One from the very first novel I attempted to write at 19 years old. Heavy on the attempted, I might add. The first one isn’t horrible. It’s just…meh. A little cliché too. The second version allows the reader to do more work. “Erase the purple” makes it obvious sleep isn’t happening very much, and you can even imagine the grimace without having to write it just by “eighteen looks older”.

Flat writing fix 3: emotional state

Not every “fix” needs more writing, despite a few of these examples showing that. Sometimes, less is more. And in the case of writing emotion, less can be much more powerful than long, winding, imagery-filled sentences.

Bonus points for another example from my second ever novel attempt (~22 years old?). Getting better, Bella!

What you can do to start writing with dimension

This won’t be automatic. Learning how to add depth to writing, just like any other skill, will take some time and effort.

Just pointing it out doesn’t mean you’ll fix it. Which is something therapists everywhere can agree with.

But it is the first place you start. Comb through your draft and find the knots. Then tease them out, one by one, by asking some of these questions:

• Am I interpreting this moment for the reader instead of letting them recognize it?
• Am I explaining the emotion instead of creating the conditions for the reader to feel it?
• Is this line helping the scene, or deciding the meaning of the scene?
• Am I leaving room for implication, tension, contradiction, or inference?
• Would this moment still emotionally function if I removed the explanatory sentence?

Most importantly: does the reader walk away understanding what happened on their own or because you wrote what happened?

This does not mean writing vaguely. It does not mean hiding information. And it definitely does not mean refusing to ever clarify anything.

The goal is not confusion. The goal is participation. Great writing often withholds just enough interpretation for the reader to step into the meaning themselves.

Give it a try. Transform a scene. Send it to me.