Exploring the Relationship Between Knowledge and Fiction (Part 5: How Knowledge Drives Plot)

This is the fifth post in the "Knowledge and Fiction" Series.

Part 5 - How Knowledge Drives Plot: Withholding, Revealing, and Structuring Information in Fiction

Introduction: Knowledge as a Driving Force in Storytelling 

In fiction, knowledge is more than just a backdrop. It can be the engine that drives the entire plot. Some of the most compelling stories revolve around the acquisition, control, or revelation of knowledge. A secret long buried, a piece of forbidden wisdom, or a discovery that changes everything. These elements shape the stakes of a narrative and influence characters' choices in profound ways. 

Think of The Da Vinci Code, where the protagonist races to uncover hidden historical knowledge. Or Dune, where those who control spice production control the universe. In Jurassic Park, genetic knowledge makes the impossible possible, with unanticipated consequences. 

In my own novel-in-progress, I’m grappling with what knowledge is most critical to the story. Right now, I’m exploring multiple threads. But eventually, the plot will dictate what is essential and what fades into the background. 

So how do writers decide what knowledge should be central? And how does the way we reveal (or withhold) knowledge shape the reader’s experience? 

Defining "Critical Knowledge" in Fiction 

What do we mean by “critical knowledge” in a story? It’s the knowledge that: 

• Drives conflict and resolution. 
• Separates those who have power from those who don’t. 
• Forces characters to make choices they wouldn’t otherwise make. 
• Is either hidden, misunderstood, or in the wrong hands. 

Many great novels are built around this kind of knowledge: 

• Magic in Harry Potter – who can access it, how it’s controlled, and the dangers of lost or forbidden spells. 
• Religious knowledge in The Name of the Rose – a battle over books, literacy, and secrecy. 
• Genetic knowledge in Jurassic Park – knowledge that both enables and threatens life itself. 

In each case, knowledge is not just background, it’s a force that moves the plot forward. 

So how do I determine the critical knowledge in my own novel? The key question is: What’s at stake? 

• If this knowledge is lost, what happens? 
• If the wrong person gets it, does it change the course of history? 
• If it is misunderstood, could it lead to catastrophe? 

Right now, I’m in the phase of exploration, pulling together ideas and research that have fascinated me for years. But as I move further into drafting, I’ll need to get sharper about what’s truly necessary versus what’s just interesting to me. 

The Narrative Flow of Knowledge: When and How to Reveal It 

Revealing knowledge in fiction is an art. Writers use a variety of techniques to manipulate what the reader knows and when. Some common approaches include: 

• The Slow Reveal – Used in mystery and detective fiction, where the protagonist (and reader) piece together the truth over time. (Sherlock Holmes, Gone Girl) 
• The Omniscient Reader – The reader knows more than the characters, leading to dramatic irony. (Romeo and Juliet, The Handmaid’s Tale) 
• The Unreliable Narrator – Knowledge is distorted, requiring the reader to question what is true. (Fight Club, Life of Pi) 

The way knowledge unfolds in a novel is just as important as the knowledge itself. If you dump too much information at once, the reader disengages. If you withhold too much, they may feel lost. 

The Teaching Parallel: How We Build Knowledge for Readers 

I keep coming back to the idea that storytelling is a lot like teaching. A teacher can’t just dump a complex concept onto students without first understanding what they already know. Similarly, a novel needs to scaffold knowledge, introducing pieces at the right moment so that the reader can follow, learn, and eventually reach an "aha!" moment. 

Many science fiction and fantasy books do this exceptionally well. Consider The Three-Body Problem, which gradually layers complex physics concepts without overwhelming the reader. Or The Handmaid’s Tale, where the reader slowly pieces together the dystopian society’s rules through the protagonist’s fragmented recollections. 

For my own novel, this means thinking about not just what knowledge is essential, but how and when to reveal it. If the world is too complex upfront, it might alienate readers. But if I introduce knowledge too late, it could feel like a forced twist. 

Knowledge in My Own Novel: Challenges and Choices 

This is where theory meets reality. 

Unlike my previous fiction projects, where I had to research entirely new areas (like synesthesia for a past novel), this time I’m pulling from decades of personal research and professional experience. That should, in theory, make things easier. But in practice, it means I have too many ideas, and I need to start cutting. 

Some questions I’m working through: 

• What knowledge is essential to the conflict? 
• How do I balance speculative elements with realism? 
• Should knowledge be a puzzle for the reader, or should they always be one step ahead of the characters? 

This phase of writing is about experimenting—trying different knowledge structures to see what feels natural for the story. 

Expanding the Role of Knowledge in Fiction 

Beyond just structuring my own novel, I’m thinking about the bigger picture: how different types of knowledge shape different kinds of stories. 

Some possibilities: 

• Knowledge as power – Characters fight to control it (1984, The Hunger Games). 
• Knowledge as burden – A character knows something they wish they didn’t (Oppenheimer and the atomic bomb, Frankenstein). 
• Knowledge as survival – A character must acquire knowledge to stay alive (The Martian, Station Eleven). 

Then there’s the question of narrative structure—should knowledge be delivered in a straightforward chronological story? Or would alternative structures, like epistolary storytelling (Dracula), found documents (House of Leaves), or multiple POVs better serve the themes? 

These are open questions I’m still exploring. 

Closing Thoughts: Beyond the Last Page 

One thing I know for sure: I want my novel to leave the reader with something lasting,  It could be a question, a shift in perspective, or even a lingering sense of uncertainty. 

Some of my favorite books did exactly that. So as I refine my own approach, I’ll be thinking about not just how knowledge functions in my novel, but how it might change the reader’s own knowledge beyond the book itself. 

For now, I’m still in the process of discovery. But that’s what makes writing—and knowledge itself—so fascinating. 

What’s Next? 

As I continue writing, I’ll be reflecting more on: 

• How knowledge structures influence world-building 
• The ethics of knowledge control in fiction 
• Memory, truth, and unreliable narrators 

The next post in the series will explore World Building and Personal Knowledge Management.  Writing a novel isn’t just about creativity.  It’s also about managing vast amounts of knowledge, figuring out how best to organize it, keep research notes, manage manuscript editing, versioning, etc.  

Wellsprings of Knowledge (Book 13 of 30)

Title: Wellsprings of Knowledge: Building and Sustaining the Source of Innovation
Author: Dorothy Leonard

Let's face it.  I don't think I read this book from beginning-to-end. The copy I own looks like something I would have picked up at a second-hand book fair simply because I recognized it as an early (1995) semi-classic in the field.  It's not a quick read and it requires a certain willingness (and time) to read "deeply" so that the ideas and concepts have time to sink in.  I suspect that was intentional on the part of the author.  One should not expect an easy quick read from a long-time Harvard Business School professor and researcher.

The focus of the book is on how companies that successfully manage technology innovation leverage core capabilities, how those core capabilities are developed and nurtured through knowledge, and where this knowledge comes from.

"Companies survive on their ability to adapt when necessary, and it is increasingly necessary for them to do so. Successful adaptation is not, however, a chameleonlike response to the most immediate stimuli --a quick switch to a new enterprise or an impulse acquisition.  Rather, successful adaptation seems to involve the thoughtful, incremental redirection of skills and knowledge bases so that today's expertise is reshaped into tomorrow's capabilities." (p. xii)

What I like about this book?
The strong business competitiveness and constant need for adaptation, the forward looking approach, and the strong focus on innovation are all still very relevant close to 20 years after its publication.   An updated version of the book might try to tackle how Google, Amazon, and some of the new technology-driven business models have handles core capabilities and knowledge generation.

The focus on core capabilities is somewhat linked in my mind to the concept of critical knowledge. No wonder, Dr. Leonard was probably instrumental in generating that connection when I read Critical Knowledge Transfer:  Tools for Managing Your Company's Deep Smarts (Leonard, Swap & Barton, 2015).   Knowledge management for its own sake, without a clear focus, is one of those "nice to have". However, it's difficult to articulate a clear ROI around something that's "nice to have" but not perceived as critically linked to business results or mission success.  Given the realities of limited resources and time constraints, a well-targeted knowledge management initiative clearly tied to business objectives (or the organization's mission in non-profit and government environments) is more sustainable and will deliver  more value.

I haven't read all of Dr. Leonard's books but I remember reading Deep Smarts: How to Cultivate and Transfer Business Wisdom.  It was 2005 and Dr. Leonard was raising the alarm about the risks associated with the baby boomer retirement wave and how it would affect organizations as the people with deep smarts (a combination of judgment and knowledge based on extended experience developing both explicit and tacit knowledge) were leaving the organization.  How was this critical knowledge going to be transferred (ideally before they left).   I don't find approaches focused on capturing the knowledge of departing employees to be particularly useful, but the issue of knowledge transfer (or knowledge flows) throughout a person's career rather than upon retirement is worth addressing.

We should not just be focusing on capturing the knowledge of upcoming retirees.  There are lots of organizations nowadays where staff turnover is very high.  Shouldn't these organization also get some attention?  Does that require a different approach to knowledge management?  Do "deep smarts" have to time to grow in high turnover organizations?

TO DO:

• Set (a.m.) time aside for "deep reading".
• It might be interested to map out the evolution of key concepts in Dr. Leonard's work (core capabilities, know-how, deep smarts, critical knowledge).  I see a nice progression while sticking to the same foundations.