Five Qualities Every Good Storyteller Should Develop
When people talk about becoming a better novelist or storyteller, they usually mention the obvious: imagination, discipline, a love of words, maybe a lucky ritual involving coffee and a specific chair . . . All helpful! But some of the most powerful qualities great writers share are sneakier. They don’t show up in writing manuals as often, yet they quietly shape the stories we remember and reread.
1. Ruthless Curiosity (a.k.a. “Why That?” Energy)
Great storytellers are professional noticers. They don’t just observe the world. They interrogate it.
Why did that person hesitate before answering?
Why does this tradition exist?
Why does this choice hurt more than the other one?
Jane Austen’s novels are powered by curiosity. She doesn’t just tell us who marries whom. She explores why people behave the way they do within rigid social systems. Her curiosity about class, manners, and human blind spots turns tea parties into psychological thrillers.
How to develop it:
Ask “why” one more time than feels polite. Apply it to real life, news stories, overheard conversations—and especially your own characters’ decisions.
2. Emotional Honesty (Even When It’s Awkward)
Readers can forgive dragons, time travel, and implausibly large inheritances. What they won’t forgive is emotional dishonesty.
Great storytellers are willing to admit uncomfortable truths: jealousy can coexist with love, courage often looks like fear in a trench coat, and people don’t always grow in neat, inspiring arcs.
Ernest Hemingway’s iceberg theory works because he understood this deeply. In The Old Man and the Sea, the emotional weight comes not from grand speeches but from what’s left unsaid—pride, despair, stubborn hope—all humming under the surface.
How to develop it:
Write scenes where your characters feel things you’d rather not admit feeling yourself. If a line makes you slightly uncomfortable, you’re probably doing something right.
3. Patience With Boredom
Here’s a glamorous secret: a lot of great writing is born in moments that feel . . . dull.
Storytellers who stick around long enough to push past boredom often find gold on the other side. This is where deeper images appear, subtler insights emerge, and scenes stop being “fine” and start being alive.
Leo Tolstoy didn’t rush Anna Karenina. He lingered—on trains, on farms, in drawing rooms—until ordinary life revealed its extraordinary tensions. The patience to stay with the mundane is what gives the story its emotional authority.
How to develop it:
When a scene feels flat, don’t abandon it immediately. Ask what’s almost interesting. Then lean into that instead of starting over.
4. A Sense of Play
Some writers forget this, but storytelling is also a game. A very meaningful, emotionally devastating game—but still a game.
Writers who embrace play experiment more. They try odd metaphors, strange structures, unexpected points of view. Sometimes it fails. Often, it doesn’t.
Douglas Adams (The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy) built an entire universe out of playful questions like: “What if the meaning of life was deeply inconvenient?” His willingness to mess around with logic and tone is exactly what made the stories memorable.
How to develop it:
Give yourself low-stakes writing time. Write something deliberately weird. Break a “rule” just to see what happens. You can always delete it later.
5. Compassion for Every Character (Yes, Even That One)
Villains aren’t interesting because they’re evil. They’re interesting because they make sense to themselves.
Great storytellers cultivate compassion—not approval, but understanding. They can inhabit minds they disagree with, letting readers glimpse the logic, fear, or pain underneath terrible choices.
George R.R. Martin excels at this in A Song of Ice and Fire. Characters who might be one-note villains in lesser hands become painfully human, capable of kindness one moment and brutality the next.
How to develop it:
When writing an antagonist, ask: “What do they think they’re protecting?” If you can answer that sincerely, your story gains depth instantly.
The bottom line: Becoming a better storyteller isn’t just about writing more. It’s about cultivating curiosity, honesty, patience, playfulness, and compassion—qualities that shape how you see the world long before you describe it on the page.
Develop those, and your stories won’t just entertain. They’ll linger. And that, more than perfect prose or clever twists, is what readers come back for.