Before reading, you can find my bias here.

Everyone has their own writing style. If you write long enough, what you really care about will show up on the page. This is very much true for me, and I wanted to talk about what I’ve discovered in my journey to write the stories I want to read.

My primary core, when it comes to writing, isn’t a ‘worldbuilding, plot, character’-triangle. These are tools in my toolbox, mostly as a side effect of my actual unit of writing. They’re important, and good fundamentals will absolutely still elevate a story, but my actual unit of writing is vastly different.

My writing core runs on an engine of ‘system, person, care’: a system wants a person’s function, the person strains against that function, and care says ‘no, you are a person first’.

Those words don’t mean much on their own yet, so let’s unpack and define them.

System

You can find more about how to build systems here.

System and worldbuilding are similar but not the same. A system is a part of worldbuilding, like magic, geography, or politics are parts of worldbuilding.

A system, in this case, is any group of people. For example:

• Household
• Workplace
• Religious group
• Government
• School
• Friend group
• Mage circle
• Space station
• Noble houses

If it involves a group of people with a specific job, as formal as ‘Head of the Mage Circle’ or as informal as ‘Mom Friend’, it counts.

A system’s job in my writing is to push people into a role or job. This is my primary driver when it comes to conflict and tension. A system expects something from a person, and there will be consequences if that person fails their job, and the fun part is watching the people suffer under the burden of the system’s assigned role.

Person

You can find more about how to build a person here.

A person differs from a character in one very important way: A person cannot be trapped by a character’s expectations.

The Chosen One has a shape before you start writing. So does The Hero. Or The Secretary.

A person can be that, but that’s not the core of a person. The core of a person is a contradiction built upon their role assigned by the system.

The Mom Friend might want to party, but won’t let themselves becasue they will not be respected as the Mom Friend anymore.

The Head of the Mage Circle might be controlling, making their subordinates adhere to strict rules that ultimately harm those they care about.

You can see how conflict arises from those contradictions. The Mom Friend watches their friends party and grows resentment. The Head of the Mage Circle drives those they care about away. Those are the core of the character.

And the beauty of character is that they’re not setting-specific.

The Mom Friend can work just as well as a jealous ex seeking their old love back. Or the Head of the Mage Circle works just as well as a CEO. If you have the shape of a person, you can take them out of their original setting and drop them just about everywhere, and they should still hold up.

The Mom Friend’s core wound is longing for what they can’t have. The Head of the Mage Circle’s core wound is leadership taken too far. This can stretch any number of stories. If you have a good person shape, you know exactly if they fit and how they act in any situation before that situation arises.

Because they act on their core wound.

Care

You can find more about how to write care here.

Care is revealed in plot, but it’s not the entirety of plot. Plot is ‘things happen in sequence’, care is specifically the antidote to the system’s expectations of its people. Care is ‘I see you’. Care is ‘you are not just your role, your job, or the system’s expectations of you’.

Care is what happens when the Joking Friend notices the Mom Friend’s longing to party and drags them onto the dance floor. Care is what happens when the Head of the Mage Circle gets sat down by their secretary with the memo that their people are struggling under the rules, and the rules need to change.

Care is the actions people take to counter the system’s pressure. This doesn’t have to be soft. People who disappear into their role don’t want to accept care, because care is dangerous. Care goes against their instincts, role, and expectations. The caregiver’s job isn’t to be soft and mushy, it’s to meet the person where they’re at. If that’s command, deadlines, impulsivity, or ultimatums, that’s still care. Forceful care, maybe. Fictionally uncomfortable care. Care with teeth. But still care, as long as the story understands the cost and doesn’t pretend control is automatically kindness.

Overlap

I’ve hinted at this before, but the story comes to life when these three triangle points interact.

A system wants a person’s function, and care says ‘no, you’re a person first and foremost’. That’s the core of my writing. Take one triangle point away, and the equilibrium breaks.

No system? Mushy, soft, floating in space. Good for fluffy oneshots, not for stories.

No person? A care manual, not a story.

No care? Grimdark suffering. Which is valid, but not what I like writing.

Conclusion

This is the triangle by which I write: system, person, and care.

System says ‘you’re a function’. Person says ‘no, that hurts’. Care says ‘then we change something for you’.

That’s the primary driver of conflict within my writing. Not plot, worldbuilding, or character, but the collision between function and personhood. It gives me a lens for conflict, character, worldbuilding, relationships, and resolution. It tells me what I care about enough to keep coming back to again and again.

This is what works for me. It’s what allows me to keep writing.

So here is the question I want to leave you with: what framework keeps you writing?