How to Write Nonfiction Book Chapters
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We’ve all heard of the proverbial muse, that mystical, inspirational spirit that sits on a writer’s shoulder, sparking within their mind an idea that seamlessly flows into a near-perfect, lengthy book.
The muse is, unfortunately, an idea you need to dispense with immediately — especially if you wish to write a successful nonfiction book filled with distinctive, purposeful, and tightly conceived chapters.
Writing nonfiction book chapters is akin to embarking on a lengthy road trip. You’re in for a smoother ride if you anticipate your route prior to departure. Planning a trip can be an overwhelming task when approached as a whole; similarly, when you first approach writing a nonfiction book, imagining it as a freshly minted whole likely feels like a monumental, unnerving task. Luckily, writing nonfiction chapters, like plotting the stops on a lengthy car trip, is possible — once you make a clear plan. Assemble your chapters, and you have a complete book!
Prior to even conceiving individual chapters for your nonfiction book (be it memoir, narrative nonfiction, inspirational business guide, or self-help), you will need to establish a clear and unique message. As the old adage goes, there is nothing new under the sun; yet, again and again, readers are engaged and delighted when ideas are presented or interpreted in a fresh way. What is your message? What makes it unique?
Once you have the cornerstone message fixed in your mind, now is the time to tackle the individual chapters for your nonfiction book. Having ghostwritten over a dozen varied kinds of nonfiction books, I can offer several helpful strategies for when you are preparing to transform general thoughts and ideas into concrete, approachable, and engaging chapters. Let’s get started!
Stops Along the Way: Outlining Your Chapters
Your book, like our theoretical road trip, must have a binding theme, or centering goal. For instance, if your road trip takes you to adventure and theme parks throughout America, or to the best hiking spots in the Canadian Rockies, you’ll plan for those main stops, with smaller diversions along the way that would be of interest to your travellers.
Well-conceived, meticulously crafted nonfiction chapters are those main stops on the journey throughout your whole book that you take your reader to. Each functions as subtopics in support of the overarching message and the chapters must serve the main goal of the book. If they don’t, readers will quickly lose interest and wonder why (or what) they’re even reading.
The key to a successful nonfiction book begins with outlining. You likely suffered through the task of putting together a skeleton outline for essays in high school or university English classes. Vaporous, thin outlines are insufficient for writing nonfiction books.
When outlining what to include in each of your chapters, consider these three crucial elements:
Craft a well-defined message
What is your centering goal or theme in each chapter, and how does each chapter’s topic serve the book’s purpose as a whole? Brainstorm different ways of framing the goal of each chapter, and consider whether it will need to be further broken down into additional subtopics (which may or may not be identified by using subheadings). Don’t be afraid to diagram your ideas visually in descending order (from a general idea to specific iterations of that topic). One strategy for parsing out arguments or subtopics is to consider what question they pose; often, a chapter topic or subheadings will present a problem that you will go on to solve, wherein each solution contributes to the whole theme, whether of the chapter or book.
As the outline begins taking shape, it’s important to repeatedly ask yourself: “Do the subtopics serve the chapter’s main goal? Does the main purpose of the chapter serve the book’s message?” If the answer is “yes,” you’re headed in the right direction. If the answer is “no,” be willing to discard ideas in favour of new ones. You’re not married to your ideas, and should dispassionately evaluate the usefulness of each angle or topic.
Give it life!
If your nonfiction outline thus far includes a clear breakdown of chapter topics, you have a foundation to begin building the infrastructure that adds detail, depth, and the kind of information that engages readers: supporting content.
Too often, prospective writers have a big idea with great potential for their nonfiction book, but they fail to move past general broad strokes when trying to articulate their vision. The details are what make the book accessible, effective, and beneficial to a reader. Details — the supporting content — work in concert with the overarching messages in a kind of dialogue. Even if the author has expertise in their field, many nonfiction books massively benefit when they draw on outside, expert-backed information, which adds credibility. This could include case studies, secondary references, or interviews.
While taking my undergrad degree, one of the best pieces of advice a professor offered on my writing was to always conclude paragraphs with my own words, opinions, thoughts, or argument. Supporting content should never be left to speak for itself or stand alone. After all, this is your book. Treat supporting content like a conversation with a person.
Many nonfiction books rely heavily on personal stories or anecdotes, which function as a gateway to connect with your reader — stories that grip them and make them desperate to know the outcome of a difficult situation, or be delighted by the twist of a funny circumstance. People are generally empathetic, and can be drawn into a book by way of two strategies. American novelist Barbara Kingsolver describes stories as functioning as either a mirror or a window for the reader. When a story works as a mirror, it draws attention to something about ourselves (as readers), a recognition of a familiar feeling or experience. On the other hand, when a story or anecdote acts as a window, it reveals something that the reader may not know about or even feel comfortable with. If a story depicts a young woman’s trauma as a domestic abuse survivor, for instance, just by reading about her tragic story, the reader will seek closure, catharsis, or an answer to how this story serves the book’s message. And just like the other forms of supporting content, a story should never leave a reader dangling, but be a launching pad to delve deeper into the conversation with the chapter (and book’s) message.
Establish clear takeaways
Most nonfiction books have an intended outcome or goal, whether it is motivating you to try out a new diet, consider an alternative point of view on an current issue you hadn’t previously considered, or arming you with the tools to revitalise your marriage. Oftentimes, as I have come to learn by ghostwriting a wealth of memoirs for clients, even the most straightforward personal history offers advice, wisdom, or cautionary tales. Even memoirs are subtly organized around 1 or 2 central themes, such as courage, resilience, or hard work. By sharing one’s life story with family and future generations, the storyteller’s influence can extend well beyond their own lifespan, so asking what message you want to leave behind can bring focus to why you’re sharing a particular story.
When readers pick up a nonfiction book, be it memoir, self-help book, or topical guide, they’re seeking answers to a problem related to the book’s stated objective. If, at the end of a chapter — or worse, the whole book — they are left asking, “So, what?” the book has failed to provide actionable steps and they will be let down. These takeaways explicitly lay out for a reader not just the why of the chapter (as in, a proposed problem or issue), but the how (what the reader can do with this information). This is not the time to be vague. However you frame these takeaways, whether in the form of a paragraph conclusion or as a numbered list of steps, readers will feel they will have more than recouped the time they invested in your book.
Plotting Your Course: Why Organization and Logic are Crucial
Imagine setting out on a road trip by criss-crossing back and forth from one stop to the next with no logical plan; it’d be a grossly inefficient use of time and resources! Friends (and readers) may be loath to join you on such an insensible journey. Effective adventurers, in spite of occasional brief detours or side-stops that inevitably occur along the way, move from point A to B to C with purpose.
Once you have a detailed outline, carefully craft a structured organization for all your details. How the message (what you have to say) and the details (supporting content) are woven together can make or break your book’s chapters, but I have several tips to make this task manageable:
1. Create a framework
Each of your chapters needs to have an arc that connects each component together. When putting together a puzzle, most people connect the outer frame, then build sections portion by portion. Likewise, a chapter will have its message, or goal, and couched within will be the nuanced pieces to complete the picture. Not sure how to organize the pieces? Try writing them out on strips of paper, which you can move around in various orders to test how each functions adjacent to the others.
2. Openings should engage
A chapter should offer a carrot, something that tempts the reader to want to know more: a story that illustrates the message, a surprising statistic, or a personal anecdote. Pull the reader along with the expectation that you are building toward your message, like a promise you are about to fulfil. Never open a chapter with an immediate deep explication of your idea.
This same strategy works in separate subsections within a chapter, giving the reader a brain break from the larger message, while still serving the overall purpose. Many humans are visual thinkers, and are more affected by an image or story than the follow-up, but if they are gripped by the story, statistic, or revelation you open with, you will have earned buy-in and the reader’s willingness to consider what you have to say in connection to the story or illustration.
3. Make it logical
I once had a professor suggest that in order to determine whether an essay flows logically, I should read it backwards line by line. Reading a 30,000-word manuscript this way is not necessarily advisable, but consider randomly utilizing this method. Read a line, then read the few preceding it. Is the connection clear? Do the sentences carry the point forward?
Another method to check for logic is to work your way through each chapter, labelling sections as “general,” “specific,” and “supporting.” General is the main message or goal of a chapter. Do you come back to it often enough to keep the reader in the loop? Alternately, maybe your chapter remains too general. Is there specific, detailed nuance to the main message? How often are you including supporting content? These three components should be organized in ascending and descending order, or like consecutive circles of a skipped stone across a lake, each ripple touching one another, connected by an invisible thread.
And don’t forget those takeaways, whether in the form of a conclusion, or explicit actionable suggestions, to make your logic crystal clear.
Circling Back Around
For several years I taught an academic writing course at a local college to students who wanted to tackle essays in one go. Needless to say, they weren’t impressed when I handed out a writing resource that claimed good writing can only be achieved when a writer spends two-thirds of their time on revision (cue collective groaning).
Writing is hard work. It is also a vulnerable act, one which is guaranteed to be critiqued, judged, passed over, or (if you’ve done the work) possibly loved. Before your book is released into the world, open yourself up to advice and feedback from people you trust to be both honest and kind. Join a writing club or online writing group where you know that everyone involved in the writing process has your best interests at heart.
Finally, be willing to step back for a week or even a month or more. Like watching a movie for a second time months or years after the first viewing, you’ll notice new details, both surprising and delightful, but also any inconsistencies or gaps in the connective tissues that hold your chapters together.
Incorporating these many strategies as you plan and proceed with writing nonfiction book chapters will elevate your work to a level you are proud of. Be patient. You are growing an idea in the form of your nonfiction book; take your time, feed it, love it, challenge it, share it. Good luck!
Amy Russell-Coutts is a freelance writer, ghostwriter, and researcher, living and working in Delta, B.C. She has ghostwritten upwards of a dozen memoirs, several inspirational business books, and has dabbled in speechwriting when the opportunity arises. She has been privileged to work for Steve Donahue, founder of Storyglu.com. Amy's professional portfolio can be viewed at amyrussellcoutts.com.
