Every genre needs "stakes."
The term often brings action and thriller books to mind, so developing the stakes in "quieter" genres such as literary fiction and memoir can get overlooked.
Stakes simply refer to what is at risk for the protagonist. Any story event immediately becomes more riveting to readers when the stakes are on the page.
So how do writers develop literary stakes on the page?
I found a great example in the memoir Acceptance by Emi Nietfeld.
At about 64% into Acceptance, a book about a young woman struggling to get into college after being institutionalized and put into foster care because of her mother’s mental illness, the protagonist, Emi, gets stranded in Canada. She’s freezing and broke.
Nietfeld writes:
I tried on a hat with earflaps and a fuzzy lining that declared CANADA across the forehead. Even on sale, it cost twenty dollars. If I bought it, I’d only be able to afford one more yogurt before I got back to the United States and could visit a bank. I shoved it into my backpack.
We know Emi's need and motivation.
I walked out of the store. No alarms went off. I power walked two blocks away and then hid behind a wall. My heart pounded in my chest, hard enough that I was no longer cold. I put the hat on, tugging the flaps over my numb ears. No amount of guilt could negate its warmth; the small muscles in my face softening, protected.
This is a relatively minor beat in the overall book, with Emi reacting to the oppressive need she’s established throughout her story. She has an immediate goal: warmth.
But I’ve edited out the stakes Nietfeld included between these paragraphs. Compare the published version:
I tried on a hat with earflaps and a fuzzy lining that declared CANADA across the forehead. Even on sale, it cost twenty dollars. If I bought it, I’d only be able to afford one more yogurt before I got back to the United States and could visit a bank. I shoved it into my backpack. As I was leaving the store, just before I passed through the alarms, I realized that I could get arrested. Arrested, deported, and booted out of college before it even began, proving the mean border patrol agent right, and more. This hat could be my undoing. I walked out of the store. No alarms went off. I powerwalked two blocks away and then hid behind a wall. My heart pounded in my chest, hard enough that I was no longer cold. I put the hat on, tugging the flaps over my numb ears. No amount of guilt could negate its warmth; the small muscles in my face softening, protected.
The italicized emphasis is mine, in order to highlight where Nietfeld has included the stakes around her action. She’s pitted her immediate (scene) goal against her story goal – to get accepted into college.
This hat could be my undoing. That’s stakes!
On a purely exterior level, here’s what happened: She was cold and needed a hat, so she stole one.
She wasn’t arrested and deported. She probably didn’t even think in those terms at the time – but when crafting her story, she uses interiority to link her current scene actions and decisions to her overall story goal.
On her journey to achieve Acceptance, she’s also put into situations where she makes decisions and take actions that jeopardize that very goal.
There's nothing wrong with the paragraphs without the stakes, but adding stakes elevates this story beat to cohere with the book as a whole, reminding readers that even the protagonist nears her goal, she's still in jeopardy of losing it all.
There are often overlooked opportunities to add stakes in manuscripts, but training yourself to look for "stakes moments" in your favorite books will help you recognize where to add those moments in your own writing.
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