WEAVING THROUGHLINES INTO NARRATIVE NONFICTION

By Donna Janell Bowman

Have you noticed that the term “throughline” pops up in webinars and editorial letters more often these days, but not always with clear definitions? In 2021, after realizing that the term is rarely highlighted in craft books beyond screenwriting, I embarked on my first deep dive to better understand how throughlines ensure structure and continuity in fiction and narrative nonfiction. Sometimes, throughlines emerge organically during the writing process. At other times… not so much. Being conscious of throughlines was certainly helpful during my writing of Wings of an Eagle: The Gold Medal Dreams of Billy Mills, a collaboration with Native Olympian Billy Mills. Let’s try to demystify the term here.

Note — As you read this article, keep in mind that there are countless variations in children’s narratives. For example, narrative nonfiction picture books often have unique structures, creative approaches, non-human subjects, and illustrations that tell part of the story. Throughlines will vary, too.

What are throughlines?

Technically, a throughline is any storytelling element that is employed from a story’s beginning to its ending. Think of throughlines as threads of different colors and textures that, when woven together, result in a satisfying layered tapestry.

Critical Throughline — The Character Arc / Internal Throughline

Sticking with the weaving analogy, the character throughline is like the Warp threads — the foundational spine — in a tapestry. In a human-centered (or living being) narrative, the character’s journey and struggle toward a goal or resolution IS the story. Not surprisingly, the character arc in a narrative is akin to the Character Spine or Super-objective in a screenplay. On a theoretical stage, an actor might ask “what’s my motivation” so that they can stay in character throughout the fictional story. In narrative nonfiction, research reveals the character backstory, traits, inciting incident (if applicable), and the motivation that propels them into action. By stitching every scene or spread with the essence of the character and their slow transformation, we ensure a strong character arc throughline that holds up the entire story and results in the narrative theme, which we’ll address later. Every other throughline in a story is in service to the character throughline.
            I am so grateful for my collaboration with Billy Mills, because, from my very first draft of Wings, I knew the story focus, and I knew Billy’s internal motivation — to chase his Olympic dream as a way to emotionally survive poverty, heartbreak, grief, and systemic racism. I also knew the story’s ending — Billy’s Olympic success and what he did with it. For the character throughline to be cohesive, every scene between the beginning and the ending had to show his internal transformation.

Character + goal/problem + motivation + ordeal = character transformation / character arc

The character throughline is like the Warp threads of a tapestry

Tip — What if research doesn’t reveal enough backstory or details to authentically show character change? When there isn’t enough evidence for internality and an obvious character transformation, try crafting the protagonist as a Flat/Steadfast character. For narrative purposes, this kind of character doesn’t transform as an individual on the page. Rather, they change their world in a notable way. The throughline for this kind of character might rely more on their pragmatic efforts, external goals or processes, or how others perceived the character and their contribution. Bring them to life by showing them in action.

Critical Throughline #2 — The Narrative Arc Throughline:

As you know, in most narratives, the all-important character arc begins when the character is propelled into action by their goal/want/problem. The plot — the action/things that happen in a story — becomes a narrative arc when the author gives the events meaning for the character through a beginning-middle-ending structure. As mentioned earlier, once you know your story focus, select scenes that specifically drive the story forward and reveal the character arc. 

During my research and conversations with Billy, a few obvious narrative throughlines for Wings revealed themselves. For example, we wanted the narrative to end with Billy’s post-Olympics Giveaway — a Lakota tradition of generosity. For that scene to be cohesive and powerful, I first stitched the idea into a third spread scene that shows Billy’s first memory of a Giveaway when he was a child.

Tip — Occasionally, a major throughline must change mid-story. For example, the beginning of Anita Pazner’s book, Words Matter: The Story of Hans and Sophie Scholl, and the White Rose Resistance, shows the two characters naively excelling as members of the Hitler Youth group and the League of German Girls — the initial narrative throughlines. But when the characters learn the truth about Hitler’s horrifying plans, they turn against Hitler, form the White Rose Resistance, and spend the rest of their short lives acting against him. If this kind of switch is necessary for your character, logically resolve the first throughline(s) before picking up the new thread.  

Themeline (Theme Throughline)

By the end of a narrative, what the character endured — internally and externally — reveals a universal relatable truth, the organic moral of the story. It is literally why the story matters and likely what drew you to the real character in the first place. The themeline begins in the character setup, possibly faint at first, but as the narrative progresses and the character changes as a result of the narrative arc, the themeline becomes such a prominent thread in the story tapestry, the reader grabs hold of it and takes it into their own life.

The theme slowly reveals itself through the character’s actions and reactions, direct quotes or internality, or the author’s creative storytelling choices.

Tip: There can be more than one theme in a narrative, but there should be one primary theme.

Sub throughlines:

While the character and narrative throughlines are foundational, sub throughlines are like colored and textured threads that produce an intentional tone and reader experience. As already mentioned, technically, a throughline can be anything that stitches through the length of a narrative, including voice, refrains and irregular refrains, repetition, subtext, subplot, visual or narrative motifs, an objective correlative, literary devices, etc..

Weaving sub throughlines into the lyrical voice in Wings of an Eagle: The Gold Medal Dreams of Billy Mills was surprisingly enjoyable. Inspired by Billy’s memories and the poetry of Native Americans, I crafted bird-inspired metaphors, similes, and verbs throughout the text. So, too, with the use of “footsteps.” You will also find the refrain of “We are stronger together,” which was inspired by the Lakota prayer, “We are all related.” Any other sub throughlines are fodder for another day.

Authors aren’t the only creators to use throughlines. In addition to the use of pictographs and a traditional Lakota art style in Wings, illustrator S.D. Nelson added the visual refrain of a background eagle that stays with Billy throughout the story. The artistic choice works in beautifu synergy with the text.

I hope this distillation has demystified throughlines for you. Now it’s your turn! How will you stitch your narrative with just the right throughlines to weave a memorable story tapestry for your readers?

Happy writing, friends! 

 

Donna Janell Bowman is an award-winning author of books for young readers, including Wings of an Eagle: The Gold Medal Dreams of Billy Mills, co-authored with Billy Mills (Oglala Lakota); Step Right Up: How Doc and Jim Key Taught the World About Kindness; Abraham Lincoln’s Dueling Words; King of the Tightrope: When the Great Blondin Ruled Niagara; and others. Donna’s books have garnered such accolades as starred reviews, state book awards, a Robert F. Sibert Award Honor from ALA, and awards and honors from NCTE, NCSS, ALSC, TLA, Oprah Daily, Library of Congress Great Reads, Best-Of-The-Year lists, and more. Armed with an MFA in Writing from Vermont College of Fine Arts, she writes from her Central Texas home and enjoys teaching writers and speaking at schools around the country. www.donnajanellbowman.com

 

 

YOU, ROCK! Playing With Point of View in Nonfiction Picture Book

By Chana Stiefel

Stuck on a manuscript? It might help to change your perspective. In other words, try playing with POV (Point of View). POV is the perspective from which your story is told (first, second, or third person). Changing the POV (say, from third to first person) can make all the difference in how readers relate to your characters and/or how they absorb the information and lessons you are trying to convey. It’s the difference between books titled ALL ABOUT ROCKS (3rd person POV), YOU, ROCK! (2nd person, I am claiming this title!), and I AM A ROCK (1st person). 

 

Why Is Point of View Important?

 

POV helps the reader understand the character’s feelings and actions. Each character in a story has their own perspective, so whoever is telling the story will impact the reader’s opinion and connection to the character and events. A quick reference guide:

 

Point of view	Key words	Impact
First person	I, we, me, us, mine, ours	The reader experiences the story directly through the narrator’s thoughts and feelings. st person personalizes the story, creates a more intimate connection, and can make big topics relatable.
Second person	You, your, yours	The narrator addresses the audience directly, creating a connection. 2nd person draws in the reader. The reassuring voice allows the child to see themselves in the story.
Third person	Names, he, she, him, her, it, they, them, theirs	The narrator is not part of the story. An all-knowing (i.e. omniscient) narrator tells the story about others. The reader gains insights to many characters’—or to one character’s (limited third person)—thoughts and feelings. 3rd person allows you to be bold creatively.

 

In this post, we’ll focus on picture books with first and second person POV. Let’s look at some mentor texts. 

 

The Power of First-Person POV

 

For years, I was working on a picture book biography about Captain Barrington Irving, who broke records as the youngest person and first Black man to fly solo around the world. I wrote the first several drafts in third person. The opening page read:

 

“As a little boy, Barrington Irving bugged his mom with big questions.

 

“How does a washing machine work?”

“Why is the sun so hot?”

“How do birds fly?”

He didn’t know that one day he too would soar like a seagull—high into the clouds.” 

The problem: An editor said the story felt distant, removed. Finally, after years of playing with it, I realized that I needed to tell Barrington’s story from his own first-person perspective. After all, it is Barrington’s story to tell. I also wanted to add another layer. When my children were young, they loved to play “airplane” by lining up chairs like the rows in a jet. Why not include “you,” the child reader, in the co-pilot seat? So I sprinkled in some second-person too, to make the story more interactive.

 

Here’s the revised opening that appears in Let's Fly, co-written by me and Barrington Irving, illustrated by Shamar Knight-Justice (PRH, 2025).*

 

“I’m a dream chaser. A solo flier. A world-record breaker. I’m Captain Barrington Irving. People said I’d never make my dreams come true. But I powered through. Want to know how? Buckle up!

 

Flight control…check! Fuel…check! Electric power on! Cockpit door locked. Start the engine. Ground control…ready for takeoff! Let’s fly!

 

As a reader, can you feel the difference?

 

Author Lesle’a Newman’s upcoming picture book Song of th Dead Sea Scrolls, illustrated by Vesper Stamper (Enchanted Lion, Fall 2026), is told in first person from the perspective of these ancient manuscripts. “In 2018, I was lucky enough to spend time at the Israel Museum in Jerusalem, where I was  shown actual pieces of the Dead Sea Scrolls,” Newman says. “As a poet, I always start a project with a question. In this case I wondered, what would it be like to spend thousands of years in a dark cave while history unfolded all around you? And so I wrote my book in the voices of the scrolls themselves to see what they had to say.”

 

Similarly, author Jilanne Hoffman wrote A River of Dust (Chronicle, 2023), about the global journey of dust from Africa that provides nutrients for the Amazon, in first person from the POV of dust.  “In my first draft of A River of Dust, third-person omniscient felt distant, like a travelogue,” she explains. “When I finally tried to write from the perspective of dust (thank you, Miranda Paul for suggesting!), I wrote several openings: quirky dust, sassy dust, silly dust, etc. before finally landing on regal, yet vulnerable, a fitting voice for a phenomenon of global importance.”

 

More great examples:

 

 

The Pull Toward Second-Person POV

 

For his upcoming picture book biography You Can Move Mountains, about painter Bob Ross, author Richard Ho chose to  tell the story in second person. Here are the opening lines: 

You start with a blank canvas.

Any size or shape will do.

Because the canvas is your world . . .

. . . and you’re the creator.

A bit later in the story:

The canvas beckons.

A limitless sky . . .

. . . and a waiting horizon.

Start filling it in.

 

“I knew from early on that I wanted to model the book after an episode of The Joy of Painting, Ross’ beloved show on PBS,” Ho says. “So much of the show's charm is in how Bob talks directly to the viewer, offering half-hour pep talks to encourage all of us to live an

artful life.”

 

Many SEL (Social Emotional Learning) picture books are also told in second person. For example, my next book, Awe!, illustrated by Susan Gal (coming from Scholastic 3/3/26) explores the benefits of experiencing this “Awesome, Wondrous, Empowering emotion.” I wrote in second person because I wanted to draw children in—to see themselves in the story and to feel inspired to search for awe every day.

Rebecca Gardyn Levington, author of many SEL books including Whatever Comes Tomorrow, about managing anxiety, notes that “picture books are meant to be read TO a child by a parent or caregiver. So, when books are written in second person, the parent/caregiver literally becomes the narrator of the book and therefore it feels, to the child, that the reassuring words are coming directly from their loved ones' mouths and being spoken TO them ("you") specifically, offering them even more connection and comfort.” 

 

 

 

Which POV Should You Choose?

 

Whichever POV you ultimately choose should be deliberate and intentional. The story should feel natural (not forced) and serve a purpose in taking your story to the next level. In the meantime, enjoy the process of playing with POV until you discover the best approach.

 

Try These Exercises

 

1. Review your favorite picture books. Determine what POV the author chose. What works? What doesn’t?
2. Reimagine those stories from a different POV. 
3. Apply this to your own manuscripts. Which POV makes your story shine? Creates the strongest connection with the reader? Has the most creative hook? 
4. Compare and contrast different picture books on the same topic told from different points of view. Which works best for you? Which will appeal most to children?

 

One final note: When switching POV, you might be wondering…is a story narrated by an inanimate object like the moon still nonfiction? Melissa Stewart has delved into this topic in her book 5 Kinds of Nonfiction, as well as in these posts: 

• What is creative nonfiction? 

• What is informational fiction?

 

I hope this post gives you a fresh new perspective on playing with POV! More resources are included below. Please let me know how it goes. And remember, YOU ROCK! 

 

*P.S. An author asked how co-authoring worked for Let's Fly. In other words, how do you co-write an autobiography told in first person? In short, I wrote the manuscript based on several interviews with Barrington Irving, as well as news articles, a trip log, and other resources. I also met Barrington for a tour of his airport in Florida. He read multiple drafts of the manuscript, offered feedback, and gave approval. 

 

Further Resources:

 

• Julie Hedlund is kindly offering my 12 x 12 webinar on POV from 2025 at 25% off: https://12x12challenge.com/chana25
• https://taralazar.com/2024/01/26/storystorm-2024-day-26/ 
• https://childrenslibrarylady.com/book-teaching-point-of-view/

 

 

About the Author: Chana Stiefel is the award-winning author of more than 30 books for children. Her nonfiction picture books include AWE! (Scholastic, 3-3-26), Let’s Fly!, Let Liberty Rise, and The Tower of Life, which received many honors, including the 2023 Sydney Taylor Book Award and a Robert F. Sibert Honor. Chana’s most recent nonfiction middle grade is How Rude: Animals That Burp, Toot, Spit, and Screech to Survive. She loves to visit schools and libraries to share her passion for reading and writing with children. Chana is represented by Miranda Paul at Aevitas. Follow @chanastiefel on Instagram. Learn more at chanastiefel.com.

 

Finding My Why

By Sarah Aronson 

At the end of every year, I go through my files to declutter and assess the collection of untapped ideas, false starts, and stories that didn’t find a home. In these entries, I see good ideas that made me curious. Stories that didn’t stand out. Even in the worst of the overworked and failed artifacts (the ones I call cadavers), I see my writing heart in search of connection.

 

I call these glimmers my why.

 

My why can stem from a memory, an interest, a purpose, or my obsessions. It is my personal connection and my stakes in the story. And if it isn’t there, it doesn’t matter how interesting the research is. The story rarely sings. This year, I also found two notes to myself (which inspired this essay): If you are stuck, Sarah, go back to your why. If you can’t give of yourself, you may not have found it.

 

Sometimes, when I stumble on an idea for a picture book biography, the why is obvious. That makes it easy to mine. When I decided to write Just Like Rube Goldberg, I had a lot of connections to draw on. As a kid, I tried to build the breakfast machine from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. (Note: use plastic!)

 

I played Mousetrap all the time. My dad shared his comics. As I began to do the research, I discovered another strong why: I noticed how people are distracted by their phones—and how much inspiration we miss when we can’t disconnect. It was just like Rube said: we can’t let machines make us lazy. We need to play! We need to use our brains! The story came out fast.

 

Abzuglutely: Buttling Bellowing Bella Abzug began with a similar lifelong connection. Bella was my childhood hero. As I wrote, I found my why in her commitment to speaking her truth. And helping all kinds of people. And the challenges of being a trailblazer. I felt those challenges. And her mission.

 

But other times, the why is a little less obvious. Or it changes with time and the experiences I’m having in the moment. When that happens, I have to keep learning. And digging. And reading. And reimagining. Over and over again, I must ask myself what my story and I share.

 

I like to take this work to the journal for a bit of side writing. I ask a lot of questions like: 

 

What do you love most about your story?

What is easy to write? What does this person stand for?

What do I have to say about this person?

How long have I known about this person, place, or event?

Do we share any ideas? If we were eating dinner together, what would we discuss?

What do the themes in this story mean to me?

Are your guiding beliefs on the page?

As you sit down to write, what do you want?

What do you fear? What are you hiding?

What don’t you want to share? (Then share it!) What is the most important scene in the book?

How do you feel when you read it?

What is happening in the world that makes the story more urgent?

Why is this my story to tell? Is my heart in this story? Or is my ego talking?

What inspired you to take it on? What is the conversation you wish to have with readers?

 

When I asked other writers how they find their why, I got flooded with responses. Everyone talked about curiosity and learning—and their love of doing research! They also talked about the desire to expand their interests and expose kids to forgotten people and stories and worlds. Friends, this is essential. We live in a time where some people want to change history—a world where they fear history and facts.

 

They also told me about their personal connections to their subjects.

 

Librarian and writer Melanie Meadors found her why through connecting to ancient texts. While writing Fantastic Flora, Ann McCallum Staats challenged herself to make a boring topic interesting for both her and the reader. Larisa Theule found connection to human ingenuity while writing Concrete. Elizabeth Tracy started writing Mystery Driver after listening to a story on the radio. But she found her why when she began to incorporate her love of STEM and physics.

 

Jennifer Swanson believes that the why is the connection that makes the book hers to write. For example, she wrote Up Periscope about US Navy hidden figure, Raye Montague, in part because Jen loves STEM! But her story was grounded in a shared experience. They both attended the US Naval Academy. 

 

Because the why becomes not just a theme, but a purpose and guiding light, it informs every decision we make in the process, from POV to page turns to the details that make the cut. The why gives us a voice, and often, an authentic point of view or vibe. When we are connected to a story, we can craft with intention how to increase anticipation (even when the reader knows what’s going to happen). We can confidently choose the details that belong in the front matter and the back.

 

All these elements invite readers to connect to the story. It forces readers to care. And when readers care, our books do something magical: they start conversations and even bigger connections, growth, and change. Isn’t that why we write?

 

In 2023, I got a challenge from a fifth-grade reader. He asked, “Why do so many books for kids feel like they were written for our teachers . . . and not really for us? Why do they all taste like medicine?”

 

Writers, nonfiction should never read like medicine. Nonfiction is exciting. It is interesting. It is story. When we know the why, our books don’t need to preach, because they are too busy helping our readers take action and make decisions for their futures.

 

Are you ready to stretch?

 

Think back to the moment you found your idea. Whether you were taking a walk, or reading a book, or listening to the news, or eavesdropping on some strangers: What was going on in the world? What made you decide to begin the research process? What were your obsessions? Do they show up in the narrative? If not, why not?

 

Write down what you love most about your story. What delights you? Or maybe what makes you want to rant? Is there something that scares you? Or something that excites you? What inspired you to take this chance and stretch further than you ever thought you could? Writing a nonfiction book is a wildly ambitious endeavor. So, find that connection. Know why this story is yours. Share your obsessions. And your heart. And the why that inspired you to work so very hard.

 

It’s worth every struggle.

 

Your readers are waiting.

 

Sarah Aronson began writing for kids and teens when someone in an exercise class dared her to try. Since then, she has earned an MFA in Writing for Children and Young Adults and published a variety of books for kids and teens from Head Case, to Beyond Lucky, The Wish List series, as well as Just Like Rube Goldberg, illustrated by Robert Neubecker, Brand New Bubbe, illustrated by Ariel Landy, and Abzuglutely!: Battling, Bellowing Bella Abzug, illustrated by Andrea D’Aquino.

 

When Sarah is not writing or reading (or making great soup or riding her bike along Lake Michigan), she is talking to readers about creativity, writing, social action, and of course, sparkle power! She loves working with other writers one on one or in one of her classes at the amazing Highlights Foundation. Warning: When she gets really excited, she makes funny faces and talks with her hands. Don’t be shocked if she talks about the power of play.

 

In March 2024, Sarah was awarded the Prairie Writer Award for contributions to literature and literacy. In 2025, she joined the Board of Directors of the Jane Addams Peace Association. She lives in Chicago, Illinois.

The Hook Factor: Finding the "No Way, That Can't Be True!" Angle in Any Nonfiction Topic

By Stephanie Bearce

I'll never forget the moment I discovered bat bombs.   

I was deep into research for my Top Secret Files: World War II book, reading through military archives about unusual weapons development. And there it was: a completely serious government project that involved strapping tiny incendiary devices to hibernating Mexican free-tailed bats, loading over a thousand bats into bomb-shaped canisters, dropping them from planes over Japanese cities, and hoping the bats would roost in the wooden buildings before the timers ignited.

My first reaction? "No way. That can't be true."

My second reaction? "This is PERFECT."

That's the moment I'm always hunting for when I write nonfiction. That instant when something is so bizarre, so unexpected, so absolutely wild that it makes you stop and say, "Wait, WHAT?" And then you realize it's 100% true.

Why This Matters More Than Ever

Here's the reality we face as nonfiction authors: we're competing with TikTok, YouTube, video games, and an endless stream of digital content designed to grab kids' attention in seconds. A middle-grade reader scrolling through their feed can watch a 30-second video of someone doing a crazy science experiment, laugh at a meme, and move on to the next thing before they've even finished reading a single page of text.

So how do we compete? How do we get kids to not just pick up our books, but actually want to read them?

We need to think like kids. We need to tap into that child-like sense of wonder that makes them stop mid-scroll and say "Wow! Gross! No way!" That factor—that visceral reaction of surprise, disgust, or disbelief—is what gets middle-grade readers to dive into learning history and science. It's what transforms "I have to read this for school" into "I want to know what happens next."

If we write nonfiction the way we learned it in school—dry facts, chronological timelines, "important" historical figures doing "important" things—we've lost before we've begun. But if we can make a kid's eyes light up in the first thirty seconds, make them lean forward and say "Wait, what? Tell me more!"—then we have a chance. Then we can sneak in all the real learning while they're too hooked to notice.

The Secret Weapon: Context Kids Don't Have

Here's what most adults forget: kids don't have the context we do for historical events. When you say "World War II," most middle-grade readers picture the Allies winning. They've seen the movies. They know how it ends.

What they don't understand is how desperate the Allies were. They don't realize that for a significant chunk of the war, the Nazis were winning. And desperate times led to desperate measures—which led to some of the most bizarre, creative, and yes, twisted inventions in history.

That's where the hook lives. Not in "The Allies developed new weapons technology" (boring), but in "The Allies were so desperate they literally tried to make bombs out of bats, rats, and even muffins" (TELL ME MORE).

Let me give you that muffin example. During WWII, the Office of Strategic Services developed an explosive compound that looked, felt, and could be baked exactly like flour. They called it "Aunt Jemima" after the popular pancake mix. Chinese resistance fighters could smuggle this explosive flour through Japanese checkpoints, and if questioned, they could literally bake muffins from it and eat them to prove it was "just flour."

Now, I won't lie to you—eating explosive flour was ill-advised. One Chinese cook who sampled the first batch almost died. But after they perfected the formula, the muffins were actually edible (though not recommended), and fifteen tons of Aunt Jemima explosive flour was successfully smuggled during the war without the Japanese ever discovering it.

No kid is going to hear "explosive muffins" and not want to know more.

Finding Your "No Way" Moment

So how do you find these hooks in your own research? Here's my process:

1. Research extensively first. You can't find the weird stuff if you only scratch the surface. I read everything—academic journals, firsthand accounts, military archives, old newspapers, obscure websites. The best hooks are usually buried deep in the footnotes.

2. View everything through a kid's eyes. I'm constantly asking myself: "Would a 10-year-old think this is cool?" Not "educational" or "important"—cool. If it doesn't pass the cool test, it won't hook reluctant readers.

3. Look for what contradicts expectations. Kids think they know what things are supposed to be like. Science is in beakers. Weapons look like guns. Communication is for people. When you can show them fish that use farts to communicate (which is real science—herring produce underwater sounds by releasing air bubbles from their swim bladders, and scientists believe it's a form of communication), you've disrupted their expectations. That's when learning happens.

4. Hunt for the truth that's stranger than fiction. I write both fiction (my Raven Gallows mystery series) and nonfiction, and I can tell you—the true stories are often wilder than anything I could make up. When bats accidentally burned down an entire military airfield during testing because armed bats escaped and roosted under a fuel tank? That's not a joke. That actually happened. No novelist would dare write that because it seems too ridiculous.

5. Go beyond the obvious. This is crucial. When I wrote the book about burps and farts, I could have just gone for the gross-out factor and stopped there. But I asked: "What's the science here? What are researchers actually studying?" That's how I found studies about fish communication, medical research on digestive gases, and the serious science behind why we burp and fart. The hook gets kids in the door, but the real science keeps them reading.

The Context is the Key

Here's the thing about hooks: they work best when you provide context. Bat bombs are interesting. Bat bombs in the context of Allied desperation during WWII are fascinating because they tell a bigger story about human ingenuity, desperation, and the weird ways people solve problems when everything is on the line.

That's what transforms a weird fact into a compelling narrative. You're not just sharing trivia—you're giving kids a window into a moment when adults were trying anything, testing everything, and pushing boundaries because the stakes were that high.

Try This With Your Own Research

If you're stuck trying to find the hook in your topic, here's an exercise:

1. List the "expected" version. Write down what most kids already think they know about your topic. (Example: "The Allies used planes and tanks to win WWII.")

2. Find five facts that contradict or expand that assumption. Dig deep. Look in academic databases, military archives, scientific journals, old newspapers—anywhere that's not the first page of a Google search.

3. Ask the "no way" test. Read each fact out loud. Do you have that moment of disbelief? If you're not surprised, kids won't be either.

4. Find the context. Why did this happen? What does it tell us about the people, the time period, or the circumstances? The hook gets kids interested; the context makes them care.

5. Test it on a kid. Seriously. Tell a 10-year-old about your discovery. If their eyes light up and they start asking questions, you've found your hook. If they shrug, keep digging.

The beautiful thing about nonfiction is that the truth really is out there waiting to be discovered. Those "no way, that can't be true" moments exist in every topic—you just have to be willing to dig deep enough to find them. And when you do? That's when you transform "educational" content into something kids actually want to read.

Because once you've told them about the bats, the muffins, and the farting fish, they're hooked. And that's when real learning begins.

Resources to Spark Your "No Way!" Moments

Looking for inspiration to find those twisted, weird, and fascinating hooks in your research? Here are some of my favorite websites and podcasts that celebrate the strange, the unexpected, and the "you've got to be kidding me" moments in history and science:

Websites:

Atlas Obscura (https://www.atlasobscura.com/) – A goldmine of hidden wonders, unusual places, and curious stories from around the world. Perfect for finding the obscure historical details that make kids stop and say "wait, what?"

Mental Floss (https://www.mentalfloss.com/) – Fascinating facts, trivia, and weird history presented in bite-sized, highly readable formats. Their "Amazing Facts" section is addictive.

Damn Interesting (https://www.damninteresting.com/) – Long-form articles about obscure true stories from science, history, and psychology. Every article lives up to the site's name.

Futility Closet (https://www.futilitycloset.com/) – Over 12,000 entertaining curiosities from history, literature, language, art, philosophy, and mathematics. Updated daily with the delightfully bizarre.

Roadside America (https://www.roadsideamerica.com/) – Your guide to weird roadside attractions across the U.S. Great for finding local oddities and unusual historical artifacts hiding in plain sight.

Podcasts:

No Such Thing as a Fish (https://www.nosuchthingasafish.com/) – Weekly podcast from the researchers behind the BBC show QI, where each episode features bizarre and extraordinary facts discovered that week. Over 600 episodes of pure fascinating weirdness.

The Memory Palace (https://thememorypalace.us/) – Short, beautifully produced historical narratives about forgotten moments and overlooked figures from America's past. Perfect for seeing how to make history emotionally resonant.

Happy hunting! These resources have helped me find countless "no way, that can't be true" moments over the years. What are your favorite sources for discovering the weird and wonderful?

Stephanie Bearce is the author of over 40 books for children, including the Top Secret Files series (eight historical books about spies, secret missions, and hidden facts), the Twisted True Tales from Science series, the Gross Science series, and Mary Anning and Paleontology for Kids. She also writes the Raven Gallows middle-grade mystery series. Stephanie specializes in making history and science irresistible by finding the weird, twisted, secret, and unusual stories that make kids stop and say "No way!" Learn more at stephaniebearce.com.