Some paragraphs are like pretty treadmills. The words are smooth. The sentences flow. Everything looks fine—until you realize you’ve gone nowhere.
And “looking fine” is the key here. These paragraphs aren’t just clean, they’re genuinely good by many conventional standards. Smooth rhythm and polished syntax. Maybe even a line that feels voicey or clever. Someone could highlight one in a workshop and go, this is great writing. But when readers hit five of them in a row and start to feel... nothing? That’s almost always an issue with missing story momentum.
Yes, even paragraphs need to carry a little bit of story momentum, or at least their own moment of change. That's a story. That's life. Things change, and the things that don't change are boring.
That doesn’t mean it needs a plot twist or a fistfight every three lines. The kind of movement we’re after is smaller but crucial: a tiny current pulling the reader forward. It's a shift in emotion, a change in focus, maybe a shift in emotional weight. A new detail that re-colors the moment.
I call this moment-to-moment progression. We're looking for changes like:
a beat of rising emotion or second-guessing
a new detail that reframes the mood or moment
a sensory shift that deepens immersion
a reveal: worldbuilding, backstory, or character
a reaction showing a small change in emotion or motivation
a new question or doubt that nudges the character’s internal arc
a decision, even a small or temporary one
an interaction, even brief, that sparks contrast or tension
Do dialogue, action, a leaf falling or a boat exploding count? Not directly. We don't need change in the room, we need change in the story. But in practical terms, all of those things tend to change the reader's understanding of the story. Just make sure you have your reaction (SRUs represent), and you're covered.
Quick test: Read the paragraph backward. If the last line could just as easily be the first, there’s a good chance nothing shifted—emotionally, narratively, or tonally. It’s not a perfect test, but it’s a reliable orange flag.
Since the goal is to microdose story into every paragraph, the next step is figuring out what your story actually needs. That part varies wildly—but here are a few ideas to kickstart the fix:
Don't discount what's already there. Describing a setting can deepen immersion when done right. Almost anything can heighten characterization if filtered through a strong POV. And yes, sometimes walking up some steps is story—if it carries a decision, marks a turning point, or leads to consequence.
If the shift happens in the next paragraph, and this one is just holding space, combine them. Let the change land on the page, not in the white space between.
Show changing emotion. Out of all the story elements, emotion shifts the most often. Use that. Show how a character’s emotional state evolves across beats, not just across scenes.
Add a discovery. Look for a detail that reframes the space, reveals something new about the characters, or changes how we understand this world.
If it’s mood with no story tie, anchor it. Show how the vibe affects perception, nudges a decision, or warps the emotional tone of what’s coming next.
You might not have a story to inject. Sometimes the problem isn’t the paragraph—it’s the outline. If nothing needs to happen here, the issue might trace back to missing stakes, vague arcs, flat character motivation, or trying to write a scene that doesn't need to be here. In that case, either return to planning or cut ruthlessly.
Sharpen the emotional filter. Let the character’s mood color how they describe the space or notice specific details.
Name the change. If something did shift but the prose doesn’t show it clearly, say it. Try writing the realization, decision, or emotion outright. You can smooth it later—but name it first.
And as usual, this isn’t about flexing every muscle at once. Careful, tiger. The change in each paragraph will be big then tiny, obvious then subtle, and that's okay. But pay attention to how much change there is, how often. As you edit a few pages, mark in the margin whether each paragraph is a 1/10 or a 10/10 on moment-to-moment progression, and get real worried if everything is a 3/10 or a quarter of your paragraphs are a big 0.
Examples
❌ Meh:
He was getting hungry, so he opened the fridge. The light buzzed faintly and pooled over leftovers in cloudy plastic. A half-used lemon stared back from the top shelf. He closed the door and scratched his jaw.
✅ Better:
He was getting hungry, so he opened the fridge. The light buzzed faintly and pooled over leftovers in cloudy plastic. A half-used lemon stared back from the top shelf—yellow like the folder from this morning. He shut the door, slower this time, jaw tight, brain suddenly spinning in a new direction.
What changed:
A neutral object sparks a memory or new thought direction, creating an internal shift that redirects his focus and emotional state.
❌ Meh:
The room was full of glass cases and dusty wooden shelves. Most of the lights were off. The back wall was lined with books, and a heavy desk sat in the center. A stack of folders leaned sideways near the edge.
✅ Better:
The room was full of glass cases and dusty wooden shelves, most of them locked. Half the lights were out. The desk in the center looked solid until you noticed the folders—some labeled in handwriting, others tagged with red string. The one on top read “Twelve Failed Prototypes.” Not encouraging.
What changed:
Turns flat description into story-charged detail and ends with a POV reaction that shifts tone and stakes.
Keep scrolling for more bonus examples at the end of this post.
This one’s easier to spot than to fix—until you’ve practiced it a few times. So I recommend you scroll through a few pages of your WIP and see which paragraphs are giving “she’s pretty but empty inside.”
That’s all for now. Stay hydrated. Break up with your static paragraphs.
Bonus Examples
❌ Meh:
I walked around the apartment. The dishes weren’t done. The window was still open from earlier. I picked up a sock from the floor and tossed it in the hamper. I didn’t really know what I was doing, just moving.
✅ Better:
I walked around the apartment. Dishes still crusted in the sink. The window was still open from earlier, letting in cold and the neighbor’s music. I picked up a sock, threw it in the hamper—and then stopped pretending this was cleaning. I was avoiding the phone call. It was obvious even to me.
What changed:
Reframes a sequence of passive actions through emotional clarity, ending in a named motive that redefines the scene.
❌ Meh:
The elevator doors opened to a pleasantly plush beige hallway. The new gaslights flickered, brighter than any candle. She adjusted her coat and stepped out, her heels clicking with each step.
✅ Better:
The elevator doors opened to a plush beige hallway. The new gaslights flickered, brighter than any candle revealing a satiny red envelope tucked into the baseboard like a dare. She adjusted her coat and stepped out, careful not to look at it too long.
What changed:
Adds a concrete story detail that shifts mood, reframes the space, and hints at unease.
❌ Meh:
I walked the same loop through the park. Past the bench with the peeling paint. Past the half-dead tree. The jogger with the neon headband passed me again.
✅ Better:
I walked the same loop through the park. Same bench, same half-dead tree, same jogger. It used to feel like routine. Today it felt like being stuck—like I’d walked right back into something I was trying to leave behind.
What changed:
Reframes repeated observations through emotion, ending in a realization that alters the character’s understanding of the moment.
❌ Meh:
Cora slipped into the party and stayed near the wall. She nodded to a few people she recognized, careful not to attract attention. The music was loud, and someone laughed near the bar. She glanced around for the host, but didn’t see him.
✅ Better:
Cora slipped into the party and hugged the wall. A few familiar faces flicked past—none worth crossing the room for. The music was too loud, the laughter near the bar too sharp. She scanned for the host, already regretting coming, already planning her exit.
What changed:
Reframes ambient detail through interiority, ending with a small decision that reveals discomfort and intent.