Grounding the Theory Bird

Many nonfiction authors are experts in their field, having a wealth of experience and a wish to share their hard-won wisdom, on subjects such as health or business. These books can be filled with extraordinary ideas and insights—and yet the way they are written down, they seem so theoretical. It’s as though the author were stationed on a helicopter and addressing the masses below as he whizzes by.

The problem with ideas is that after a while they can start to feel like abstract principles the writer is spouting off, expecting us to believe everything she says. Do this, do that, because that’s what I did and it really works. 

Ideas need to be grounded. The best way to do that is to provide real-life examples of the principles. For instance, an author may tell me how easy it is to switch away from eating wheat—go gluten-free!—but I’m still daunted by the prospect. Really, no bread? No bagels? No English muffins? 

Yet if she then features a little story about Ken from Fresno, who bought a loaf of quinoa and flax bread and found it tasty and just as filling, my thinking starts to shift. I could be like Ken, I guess. I could try the stuff the next time I go to Whole Foods. All the author’s high-flown arguments about what our Paleolithic ancestors ate are interesting, but I wasn’t going to budge until I read about Ken.

That’s why most news articles start with a solitary person. As readers, we can identify with one victim of a hurricane. If the article then goes on to tell us that 39 died and 200 were left homeless, we think of them in terms of that one person. A good nonfiction book uses the same technique. Artificial intelligence is just an abstract phrase until the author tells us about one cartoonist using it to create animated steps to connect his frames. A reader can put herself in the shoes of one person—oh, so that’s how it works. 

I tell most nonfiction authors to follow a simple principle: theory, example. Set up the overarching principle, then provide a human being who exemplifies the principle. The best part is, examples are easy to write. Most authors can think of dozens of examples. If you critically examine a nonfiction book, you will see how often this happens. We fly high and then we are grounded. That keeps the prose real. We are all lowly creatures of the earth, after all, so don’t let your intellect exceed our grasp.

Exercise: Pick out a chapter from your unfinished manuscript. Start reading it merely for the principles you are setting forth. Watch particularly for two principles stated back to back. Admit it, are your eyes start to glaze over, because your attention is drifting? You need an anchor. Think of an example, one paragraph long, and drop it in. When you read it back over, do you feel a renewed connection with the prose?

“We do not write because we want to; we write because we have to.”                   — W. Somerset Maugham

Copyright @ 2026, John Paine