How To Land a Narrative Feature

Ian Frisch writes about his process developing, reporting, and landing a narrative feature story.

I’ve been asked to write up a primer on how I find, develop, and execute narrative features. This request was sparked by my most recent article, for The Verge about a guy who, after discovering his Tinder date was the honeypot in a brazen car-theft scam, teamed up with a self-proclaimed “police informant” to con the thieves and get back his prized Jaguar. 

I have done many similar capers/narrative features for different publications. Here’s how I go about it. 

First, a disclaimer: These types of stories don’t come along often. I might be able to do this type of story once every six months, if I’m lucky. 

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How To Spot a Compelling Narrative 

The first thing I look for is a real story. What I mean here is a narrative that has a clear beginning, middle, and end. And the ending is the most important. I always need something that feels like it has come to a clear resolution; there’s nothing worse than chasing a story where only Act 1 and Act 2 have happened so far.

From there, I look at the main character. What is this person’s guiding motivation throughout the story? What do they want? What are they willing to do to get it? And, within that, what decisions do they make (dictated entirely by what they believe in) that keep the story moving forward? Strong answers to these questions will give the story a clear sense of purpose. 

Some examples: 

For this story, a small team of Wall Street traders were convinced that shopping malls were going to go bust, and they put all of their money on the line to prove they were right. They fought a big mutual fund, surpassed all the naysayers, and came out on top in the end. 

For this story, an Instagram influencer was so obsessed with fame and fortune that he stopped at nothing to obtain from his nemesis the domain name associated with his viral brand—even going as far to hire a hitman to extort him at gunpoint. 

For this story, a long-running feud between two brothers compelled both of them to fight to the bitter end over their family’s $800 million oil and gas fortune, with the older brother even enlisting a henchman and two corrupt cops to frame the younger brother. 

For this story, a MIT professor’s greed and illusions of grandeur prompted him to engage in a sordid legal battle with his children, stage his own attempted assassination to win the lawsuit, and even forge his late son’s will. 

As you can see, what these characters want truly propels the narratives. But how do I find these stories, and what do I do once I’ve decided to pursue them? 

I read a lot of local newspapers, and I keep my ears and eyes open to potential stories that live under the surface. 

For my Wall Street feature, I had read in the New York Post that Carl Icahn, the famous investor, had made a profitable short bet against shopping malls—but something told me that he didn’t discover the trade. I called around to a couple experts (who had a podcast on the specific asset class traded), and they told me who the real characters were, and what they went through to prove they were correct. 

For my influencer story, I saw that the main character had been convicted at trial of hiring a hitman to extort his enemy at gunpoint. I downloaded the court records on PACER, and knew I had enough to jump in. 

For my oil brothers story, I read a local news article that gave a clear synopsis of their feud; the older brother had been arrested, so I knew a resolution was likely coming (it took me six months to convince the younger brother to speak with me; I pleaded with his lawyers that I could share his side of the story responsibly, and eventually got on a call with him, where he agreed to speak on the record). 

For the MIT professor story, I had read a local news piece about his arrest and conviction, which seemed to be the end of the family’s 20-year legal saga. I went to courthouses in and around Boston and obtained hundreds of pages of records that helped me tell the story. 

As for my Verge piece, the main character was actually a source of mine for a previous story that never got published. He posted on Instagram a photograph of his car flipped over in the woods; I asked him what happened, he spun this wild story, and the rest is history. 

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Finding The Hook

Once I find a story that I think has merit (strong characters, a clear structure), I ask myself what type of story it is I want to tell. Is it a rise-and-fall? A coming-of-age? A biblical family drama (the oil brothers story was literally titled “Cain and Abel and Oil”)? A David versus Goliath, against-all-odds tale? And, from there, what does this narrative say about a more philosophical takeaway? That social media can corrupt people’s sense of purpose? That greed never wins in the end? Etc. 

This last point—the theme—also helps with the article’s placement; it allows me to understand which publications will want the story, because the article’s point of view matches their ethos. The theme will also inform my tone. Is this a serious drama? A comedy? A farce? A satire? 

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Pitching The Story

Once I’ve confirmed access to necessary characters, records, etc., I then pitch and place the story. From there comes execution: I write these stories as if they are mini-novels. I want scenes, I want dialogue, I want the reader to feel like they are in the room with the characters, living each situation alongside them. I write in cliff-hangers, keep the action clean and tight, and try my hardest to make sure the reader isn’t bored, even for a second. In short: I want to create a truly cinematic presentation. And I want the reader to get into the heads of my characters, to truly understand what drives them. This is crucial, because it helps support the “but, therefore” storytelling mantra, which has been the guiding light for screenwriters for a long time. 

Character A does X, but Y happens; therefore, they have to do Z. The process repeats itself, stakes are continuously raised, and the narrative moves forward in a compelling way. Being able to write narrative features also lets my voice come through in a more pronounced way than, say, news-features, which follow a very typical structure. It also helps to have a protagonist and an antagonist, because that tension forces people to act. The protagonist does something, so the antagonist does something in return, and it ping-pongs back and forth, propelling the narrative. 

To use my Verge feature as an example: Mike gets divorced and starts dating a new girl, but he gets lonely when she leaves town; therefore, he joins Tinder. Mike matches with a girl named Ky, but she’s the honeypot for carjackers; therefore, he gets his Jaguar stolen. Mike posts on Instagram about it and gets approached by a guy who sketchily claims that he’s an informant, but Mike doesn’t have any other options; therefore, he goes along with his plan. They find the car, but the thieves drive away; therefore, a high-speed chase ensues. You get the picture. 

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Now, Report!

The reporting process for these types of stories is also fairly singular, because I am mining for so much detail. I want to know everything that a character experienced at a given time, how they felt, anything to paint the narrative. And I want records to back it all up, if possible. I also want to make sure that, if the story has been covered in the press already, I am adding new material to the narrative.

I don’t want to rehash what’s already out there; I want to write the definitive account of these people and what they went through. It’s time-consuming, but these are good muscles to flex, because they are the same muscles needed to write narrative non-fiction books, produce documentaries, pen screenplays, etc. And it’s fun! 

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