Six Things I Learned from The Secrets of Story by Matt Bird

If you’ve been following me recently, you’ll know I’ve been devouring craft books. (See recent blog posts here and here.) The newest? Matt Bird’s The Secrets of Story. I’d never heard of this book until I picked it up, and I had some hesitations, but I was sold within a few pages. Although I didn’t agree with him on everything, I found that the book lived up to its promise of presenting fresh, surprising insights. Bird is exceptionally strong on dialogue, characterization, and rewriting/revision—and the book was packed with actionable tips I hadn’t encountered before.

Here are just a few of the insights that stood out to me (with a few caveats along the way).

Compassion for Your Characters

One of Bird’s more unexpected tips is about loving people:

As you walk down the street, practice loving everybody. That Wall Streeter with slicked-back hair? Love him. That skulking drug dealer? Love him. That lovey-dovey mom cheering on her toddler’s tantrum? Love her.

Ask yourself, How did they end up here? Is this what they wanted to be? Like you and everybody else, these people probably had hopes and dreams that were quashed long ago. Look at what is lacking in these people and ask, Who took it away from them? What would they do if they could have it back?

We’ve all heard of (and probably enjoy—or at least I often do) some of those renowned authors who are famous for being caustic, cynical, and brutal, but I agree with Bird that compassion and empathy underlie the vast majority of truly successful fiction, whether you’re talking about Tolstoy or that rom-com that came out last month.

Reading Craft Books, Then Forgetting Them

Bird’s advice on tackling craft books also had me nodding along. He encourages writers to read craft books—and then forget about them. That way, you’ll internalize what’s truly important rather than applying it in a rigid, mechanical way.

He pushes writers to focus on beliefs instead of rules and urges us to go through his pointers and decide whether we actually believe them. If we don’t, don’t adopt them. I don’t believe in one-size-fits-all prescriptions, and that’s advice I can get behind.

Giving Characters Something to Do

Another practical tip I loved: give your characters something to do in every scene. Instead of setting every conversation in a café or bar, where they’re simply sitting and talking, place them in situations where they’re also doing something else—playing basketball, cooking dinner, fixing a car. That way, the dialogue is layered with action and tension, and your characters have a built-in secondary goal, such as winning the game or pulling together a difficult recipe.

Greatness vs. Perfection

Bird also makes an insightful distinction between perfection and greatness. He points out that Hitchcock’s North by Northwest is often considered his most perfect film, but Vertigo is widely considered his greatest—even though Vertigo is riddled with dangling plot threads and untidy arcs.

As Bird puts it:

“Depth is found in holes. A few unanswered questions and unresolved emotions are necessary to really have a profound effect on a viewer.”

He’s not arguing for giant plot holes, but for a willingness to leave some edges rough. Those unanswered questions can be what keep a story resonating long after the final page.

Cutting to the Action

I also appreciated his suggestion to answer questions with scene cuts. For example, instead of writing a scene where characters plan what they’ll do next, you can end with one of them asking—and then cut straight to the next scene, where we see them already doing it. It’s a simple device that keeps momentum high.

Rewriting and Revision

Unsurprisingly for a screenwriter, Bird is especially good on revision. Among his suggestions:

• Challenge yourself to remove one word from every sentence and one sentence from every paragraph.

• Save a copy of your manuscript titled “the too-short version” and then cut it down mercilessly. Remove transitional lines, unnecessary ramp-ups, and stringy connections. Then read it and add back only what you truly miss. Titling this “the too-short version” makes it emotionally easier to cut ruthlessly. And, like Bird, I suspect that “the too-short version” will often become an author’s favored version.

I also loved his idea to seek solutions to developmental issues that solve multiple problems at once. That’s something I already work with authors to do, but I hadn’t thought about it quite so explicitly before.

A Few Quibbles

Not all Bird’s advice resonated with me.

• I didn’t find his chapters on structure as illuminating as some other books—Into the Woods, by John Yorke, remains my favorite resource for story structure.

• I was unhappy with his tip to lend veracity by adding to every scene something random and unrelated to the plot. In my view (which accords with that of many of my favorite craft writers), the details in a scene can never simply be random. They need to contribute to mood, tone, theme, characterization, or the like. Truly random details rarely succeed—unless a writer is subconsciously making the right connections between “random” details and the overall plot and story structure.

Final Thoughts

Despite a few disagreements, I found The Secrets of Story packed with insights and well worth my time. Bird’s focus on dialogue, layered scenes, and ruthless rewriting makes the book a rich resource for both new and experienced writers.

I’ll definitely be reading more of his work!