The blinking red numbers read 2:21 AM. Way too late for my 29-year-old body, but it had been a while since a story seized me like this. “One more chapter,” I lied to myself.

The next morning, over a massive cup of coffee, I decided to figure out how the book hooked me so quickly.

The answer is both weird and simple:

The author spoiled the end of the story on page one. But instead of ruining the story like you might expect, this framing device made me wonder how in the world things could possibly end up there.

For context, the book was Empire of Silence by Christopher Ruocchio (it is, if you’re interested, the best sci-fi I've read in years). The story starts with the main character telling you he destroyed a sun and subsequently killed four billion people. But then it returns to the protagonist’s childhood.

Stay with me. I think this technique works in all kinds of stories.

What is Story Framing?

Story framing is how you, the Storyteller, control your audience’s interpretation of your story.

It’s like deciding which window your Reader looks through into your story. I don’t often see this talked about, but it’s a massive decision. The viewpoint you give your Reader shapes their interpretation of every detail that follows.

Psychologists call this “Anchoring Bias.” Basically, we humans are simple creatures. You tell us something first, and we assume it’s super important. Our brains automatically anchor themselves to the first interpretation of events. As storytellers, this is a powerful tool.

Let’s return to the example above. I think it’s important to start with the potential downsides to this technique.

In my head, the author takes two big risks:

1. Overpromise, underdeliver

The bigger your hook, the higher the expectations you set for your audience.

With this “reveal the end first” framing, you’re promising your audience that the journey is more important than the destination. If your destination is inherently more interesting, stick with classic story structure.

Only make promises you plan to keep.

2. Nullifying the traditional tension

In this type of sci-fi story, a big question is often, “Does the protagonist survive?” 

Well, here you already know the answer is yes. There is no ‘survival tension.’ Instead, this frame shifts the tension to mechanical and ethical unknowns. It becomes a question of how and why, not what.

The Hidden Craft Choices that Create the Frame

So, despite these risks, how does Ruocchio pull this off? Three decisions stand out.

First, he takes on what I call Narrative Debt — when a storyteller makes a promise early that compels the Reader to stick around to see how they’ll pay it off.

In this case, the protagonist destroyed a sun and killed four billion people. But when we meet his younger self, he seems… like an okay guy? Definitely not a genocidal maniac.

That dissonance creates a powerful curiosity gap. Ruocchio’s story moves slowly at times, but the narrative debt is so compelling that the pace hardly matters. Hence how he got me to stay up to an absurd hour reading his book.

Second, he uses first-person past-tense point of view. This makes the entire story feel like a confession. We’re not just watching the story unfold, we’re hearing someone wrestle with what it all meant.

Pick whatever point of view enhances your story, but pick it intentionally. This piece is the best I’ve seen on picking your POV.

Third, he shifts the tension. Once we know the main character survives, traditional stakes (Will he live?) disappear. But new, deeper questions get asked:

How could anyone justify this? What kind of person would do it?

3 Examples from 3 Different Mediums

I have a challenge for you. Start looking for this technique throughout your day. I’ve started to see it all over the place and wanted to give you three examples from different mediums to show you how versatile this idea is.

1. This newsletter you’re reading.

I started the newsletter by telling you I stayed up far too late because of a book, and that the author used one technique to hook me.

I’m being meta here, but by starting with that tiny anecdote instead of jumping straight into the technique, I’ve framed the entire thing for you. This implicitly promises to teach you how to do the same thing.

2. This Instagram post

Do you see it? Subtle, simple, and incredibly effective even in a short video.

3. This novel

The Name of the Wind begins with a seemingly old, beat up bartender. Except, when he tells the story of his youth, he’s this mythical hero.

The entire premise is, “What broke that hero? How did he become this bartender?”

Patrick Rothfuss, if you’re out there, I am begging you for book three.

Storytellers:

This is the magic of a well chosen frame. Your question doesn’t have to be simply, “What happens?” You can also ask, “How on earth did we get here?”

And that can be such a fun question to explore.

Have an awesome Easter,

Nathan

PS.

My debut novel drops this fall. It’s fast-paced, dark, and perfect for fans of Mistborn or Red Rising. Join the waitlist here.

PPS.

Thanks to the 180+ people who grabbed SZO last week. I hope you’re enjoying the training. If you didn’t get in, it’s still available here but won’t be discounted for quite a while.

Nathan’s Notes

Three notes on writing & story I bookmarked this week.

1. A fun newsletter with book recommendations and summaries.

2. In this podcast, Nat and I talk about how he writes 5,000 words per day. It’s ridiculous. I’m thrilled when I hit 2,000.

3. An excellent read on the art and science of story structure.

What’d you think of today’s letter? Shoot me a note. Fun to discuss this stuff. — Nathan