The Writing Technique That Works in Every Genre: Realism.

Author

Payton Minzenmayer
January 11, 2025

Welcome back to the Saturday edition of Christian Story Lab.

I hope you found the 7-day email sprint helpful for building a daily writing habit. The purpose of it was simple….

…if you want to grow as a writer, you’ve got to do the darn thing.

Writing every day has changed my life. I believe it can change yours.

Imagine where writing could take you this year:

  • You could publish a book, write a children’s series, complete a devotional.

  • You could consult as a copywriter for businesses and churches.

  • You could be in the storyboard room at Pixar or Angel Studios.

  • Or even become a ghostwriter and work from anywhere in the world 👇

Speaking of where your writing could take you this year…

The quickest way to scale as a writer? Ghostwriting.

✅ You don’t need any startup capital.
✅ You don’t need a big social audience.
✅ And you don’t need decades of writing experience.

Whether you’re aiming to be an author, copywriter, ghostwriter, or just writing bedtime stories for your kids, we’re all looking to level up our skills.

One way to sharpen your craft is by using techniques that make your writing stand out.

Stand out like pineapples on pizza.
↳ Like neck tattoos in church pews.
↳ Like me showing up in flip-flops for a marathon.

We want our writing to be odd. Unique. Unforgettable.

One of my go-to techniques is realism. It’s vivid, immersive, and filters storytelling into 3 essentials: facts, actions, and dialogue.

In realism, there is no wandering into a character’s mind. The writing is narrowed on what the character can see, hear, and experience.

I wrote a short story to show realism in action:

My drive begins at 6 am.

I always arrive early. I circle the long yellow bus, kick the tires, and find my seat behind the wheel. My mouth is dry. I slept on my shoulder wrong and gave it a roll to stretch out the pain. It doesn’t help. I put the knob in “D” and ease into the pedal.

There is a rock in my shoe.

“Hello, Mr. Ed,” Angelica says as I peel open the door at the first stop.

I smile but don’t respond.

“Hello, Mr. Ed,” Ronnie says next, his bulging bag pulling against his shoulders like a reverse Sisyphus.

I smile and skake the rock to the front of my shoe.

“Hello, Mr. Ed,” it continues for the five-minute loading time until all twelve kids are in their seat.

I glance in the rearview mirror. Twelve faces, some groggy, some animated, all strapped into their spots. Angelica is already whispering secrets to Ronnie. The twins, Mia and Marcus, are arguing about something. I can see their hands flying even if I can’t hear the words.

The rock in my shoe grates against the ball of my foot now. I shift my weight and adjust my grip on the wheel.

The bus groans as I pull onto the main road. The rhythm of the tires against the pavement settles into a low, steady hum.

“Mr. Ed, can we listen to music?” Angelica’s voice breaks through the quiet.

“No speakers,” I reply. My voice is flat, clipped, automatic. It’s the same answer I’ve given every day for two years.

“But Ronnie’s got his headphones,” she shoots back, clearly not ready to let it go.

“Headphones are fine,” I say, glancing in the mirror again. Ronnie gives me a thumbs up, already sliding the headphones over his freckled ears. Angelica huffs and crosses her arms.

The first stop is eight minutes away. A rural cul-de-sac where the Alvarez kids live. We hit the first pothole before I can slow down enough, and a chorus of “whoa!” echoes through the bus as everyone bounces.

“Sorry,” I mutter, though no one’s really listening.

We reach the Alvarez driveway, and the two boys leap off the bus, their sneakers crunching against the gravel. Mrs. Alvarez waves from her porch, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug. I nod in her direction and close the doors.

Back on the road, the rock in my shoe has worked its way under my heel. It feels sharper now.

Behind me, Mia and Marcus have escalated to yelling.

“Marcus, give it back!”

“You threw it at me first!”

“Mia, Marcus!” My voice is loud enough to stop them mid-sentence. “Keep it down.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then Mia mutters, “He started it.”

I don’t bother responding.

We roll up to the second stop, a cluster of houses where three kids file off. They say goodbye in unison, and I nod back. Two stops left. The air feels heavier as the sun climbs higher in the sky.

“Mr. Ed?” Ronnie’s voice is tentative. I glance at the mirror. He’s leaning into the aisle, his backpack still weighing him down.

“Yeah?”

“There’s a spider back here. It’s huge.”

A ripple of unease runs through the bus. Angelica screams. Marcus yells, “Where?”

“Stay in your seats,” I say, pulling the bus to a stop on the shoulder. I grab the broom from behind my seat and stand.

“Where is it?”

“By the window!” Ronnie points, his face pale.

I walk down the aisle, the bus swaying slightly as I move. And there it is—a leggy brown spider clinging to the window next to Angelica’s seat. She’s pressed herself as far away from it as possible, her knees pulled up to her chest.

“Hold still,” I tell her.

With one swift motion, I swipe the broom against the window. The spider drops to the floor, skittering under the seat.

“Is it gone?” Angelica’s voice is high-pitched.

“Not yet.” I crouch, using the broom handle to coax the spider into the aisle. It freezes for a moment before I trap it under the bristles.

I carry it to the open door and shake it free onto the roadside.

The kids cheer.

“Crisis averted,” I say, returning the broom to its spot.

When I sit back down, the rock in my shoe shifts again, but this time I don’t mind it as much.

Here are a few examples of realism in this story:

Facts:

✓ My drive begins at 6 am.
✓ My mouth is dry.
✓ There is a rock in my shoe.
✓ The tires settle into a low, steady hum.
✓ A leggy brown spider clings to the window.

Actions:

✓ I circle the long yellow bus, kick the tires, and find my seat behind the wheel.
✓ I roll my shoulder to stretch out the pain.
✓ I shake the rock to the front of my shoe.
✓ The bus groans as I pull onto the main road.
✓ I grab the broom from behind my seat and stand.
✓ I trap the spider under the bristles and carry it to the open door.

Dialogue:

✓ “Hello, Mr. Ed,” Angelica says as she hoists her small body up the three steps.
✓ “Can we listen to music?” Angelica asks.
✓ “No speakers,” I reply.
✓ “There’s a spider back here. It’s huge,” Ronnie says.
✓ “Is it gone?” Angelica asks in a high-pitched voice.
✓ “Crisis averted,” I say.

Realism works in writing because, just as is true in reality, we can’t know what someone is thinking. All we can gather is context and form opinions based on facts, dialogue, and action.

Tangible things. Real things.

Realism tells a lot with a little.

This is why realism is invaluable in good writing. There is no excess in realism, no fluff. Only clear, crisp, concise writing to drive the reader forward.

The 3 rules of realism are simple.

One, don’t allow the reader in the mind of the character. Notice we never know what Ed thinks, only what he says and does.

Two, don’t give away too much information. The spider was brown. The bus was yellow. The setting was on the bus. We never even know what Ed looks like, but I can almost guarantee you filled in that information on your own just fine.

Three, use the present tense. This isn’t always necessary, but it’s an easy trick to make the story feel like it’s unfolding right in front of the reader’s eyes.

  • Storytellers can use realism to transport the reader anywhere, into any scenario, good, bad, pleasant, and unpleasant.

  • Copywriters can use realism to keep their copy concise and drive action instead of overstuffing their sentences and losing the reader.

  • Ghostwriters can use realism to impress their clients with a level of writing that stands out from others. Most don’t know why realism works. Now you do.

If you enjoyed learning about realism, I’d encourage you to pick up the two books, Very Good Copy and The Adweek Copywriting Handbook.

These 2 books will put you 10 steps ahead of most writers.

Read them, and you’ll like Dash from The Incredibles racing against Flash from Zootopia. (If you get that reference, hit reply so I know I’m not alone!)

Write on 🤙

Payton

P.S. Ever wish writing your book felt less like herding cats and more like building something beautiful? I’m teaming up with writing coach Niels C. Kwakernaak to bring you the 6 Steps to a captivating Christian nonfiction book. Practical advice, real-world examples, and answers to your burning questions—live and free! Mark your calendar for Jan 14, 2025, at 11:00 AM EST.

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