Why I Wrote This Book

I think I always knew I wanted to write stories. In grade school, I wrote disaster stories, lifting plots straight from the Airport movies I loved. I'd hammer them out on old typewriters, including this electric one my dad bought at an auction that punched the letters so hard it left indents in the paper.

Then Mom and Dad brought a Vic 20—our first personal computer—into the house. My sister and I used it for games, and the idea of writing stories was lost to Frogger and Radar Rat Race. But I wanted more power—again, not for writing, but for games—and I begged for a Commodore 64.

I got my wish, and the computer ended up in my bedroom (much to my sister's dismay). I played games constantly.

I would have continued doing that forever if it hadn’t been for one night when I came home from high school, turned on the computer, and opened the word processor to write a story.

It was a horror story about a group of people climbing a hill to a church, preparing to fight a demon rising from the ground.

I don’t know why I wrote it—I just did.

The next day, I took it to school and showed it around. People liked it, so I wrote more. The short story became a novel about teenage kids fighting monsters in a high school.

After a few chapters, I killed off the main character's girlfriend, and people were upset that I did it—and I loved it! Realizing that my words could create an emotional reaction was all I needed to get hooked on writing.

Then, some friends corrected my grammar, spelling, and punctuation mistakes to help. I took it the wrong way and grew self-conscious and scared. Whenever I tried to write, I felt the criticism; I'd overthink everything to avoid it.

Story became hard. Writing became hard.

And I quit doing it for 15 years.

It took me a lot to dig myself out of that hole, and along the way, I learned what worked for me and what didn't. Once I started writing again, I wanted to help others avoid wasting their time avoiding the work, so I started sharing my toolbox.

Why I wrote this book

I've wanted to write this book for a very long time. I've been helping writers and teaching them how to tell their stories for over 15 years, and about a decade ago, a version started brewing in my head that would lay out what had worked for me.

Teaching in classrooms helped me formulate these ideas better. As I worked with students, I kept building my lessons and refining what I learned. I was always searching for simpler ways to explain things—what was the most straightforward path to understanding without getting lost in the weeds of over-explanation?

This quest for simplicity became even more critical when I moved to teaching online. I'd share approaches to formatting or story frameworks like WOARO (which you'll find in the Lessons section). I'd share the same material with my private clients but create separate versions without the assignments. It was messy and inefficient—I kept duplicating content and adjusting it for different needs.

The Toolbox is my first attempt at integrating everything in one place—one home for all the lessons, frameworks, and techniques I've gathered over the years. I hope you'll be the judge on whether it works.

How this book is structured

For now, the Toolbox begins with screenwriting lessons I've taught my students over the years. These lessons show the foundation of storytelling and, while tailored for screenwriters, can be adapted for fiction writers of all types.

After that come the specific tools—some mentioned in the lessons—that have helped me in my writing journey. These tools cover various aspects of the writing process, from getting started to building a story and refining your work. Some topics need just a few key ideas; others need deeper exploration.

As the Toolbox grows, this structure may evolve. Eventually, I might lead with the tools and move the lessons to later chapters. My goal is to organize everything in whatever way helps writers most.

This book will keep growing as I add new tools and find clearer ways to explain concepts. If something isn't clear, let me know—your questions help improve the work.

Who am I?

I’m David Gane, a writer and educator from Saskatchewan, Canada. I’ve co-authored the internationally award-winning Shepherd and Wolfe young adult mystery series. I’ve been helping and supporting aspiring writers for over 15 years of experience as a writing coach and university instructor.

My background includes over a decade as an independent author and 11 years in the film industry. I hold a Master’s in Film Production, specializing in screenwriting, focusing on memory narratives.

I’ve taught numerous courses and workshops on screenwriting and creative writing at the University of Regina and various community organizations. My accolades include multiple awards and nominations for my novels and screenplays. My expertise spans novels, screenplays, short stories, and film reviews, but I’m always willing to help writers with their work.

I believe I am who I am, not just because I’m a writer but also a teacher. I’m inspired by my students and clients and constantly discover new ways to help them—and myself—get our stories on the page.

My Writing Philosophy

When I was blocked and not writing, I spent too much time thinking about writing instead of doing it. When I began to move past it, I realized the time and energy I had wasted not doing the work.

I no longer had the excuse that I was going to try doing the work—I just did it. Suddenly, I had free time to spend more time with my family and care for myself.

I believe that you must do the work. And when something gets in the way, you go to the toolbox and find the tool that gets you back to doing it. The simpler, the better.

Here's the thing though—these are just the tools that work for me. I've tried to make them useful for others, but we're all built differently and come at writing from different angles. There are lots of great approaches out there that didn't work for me, but they might be perfect for you.

Think of this toolbox as one more data point in your writing journey. Take what works, leave what doesn't. There's no single right way to write.

Ultimately, for me, the sooner we focus on the work—and less thinking and talking about it—the better.

So, let's get to it.