How To StoryBelow are the basic components of five separate but similar conversations I’ve had with friends and clients this month.
Kate, I’m writing a book/play/screenplay/faction!Awesome! Good for you.
This is the first/second/fifth time I’ve NaNo’d/wrote a book/lost my mind, but I can’t anymore. I don’t know what happened. Everything stopped/collapsed/started sucking. What do I do?Okay, let’s start from the beginning. What’s the story?
Well… (Insert: long explanation of the setting or the magic system or who the protagonist or the villain is and even whose work inspired it or what cute thing their dog did that morning.)Sounds cool, but that’s not a story. I want to know your story.
Um... (Insert: But I just told you! Or, Here, I’ll go over it again. Or even crazed laughter.)(Insert: Blank look.)
Lesson: You can’t expect your audience to follow your story if you can’t even tell me what it is.
Story is:
- Goal + Conflict = Plot
- Protagonist > Inciting Incident > Rising Conflict > Climax > Fall > Resolution
- Main Character > Want > Conflict > Action 1 > Action 2 > Climax > Result
These are standard plot equations and three and five act lay outs. These are the bare bones, the building materials, the seeds and the soil. This is what people are talking about when they say
structure and talk about narrative structure or dramatic structure and the internalization of it.
Internalizing structure is a thing people talk about because it’s basically the only way anyone ever understands it. I can explain and outline plot structures and give a gazillion examples. I have before and I’m willing to do it again if necessary. But ultimately it won’t matter until you internalize the concept of it. Until it clicks. Until your brain goes “ah-fucking-ha!” and suddenly every book you’ve ever read and every movie you’ve ever seen, good, bad, and ugly, makes sense. Suddenly, you understand why it was good, or bad, or just plain ugly.
Prime example: Cinderella. The movie would have a damnably hard time succeeding in modern screenwriting because the protagonist has no agency. Everything happens
to her. The Little Mermaid? Fantastic. You know what she wants from the get go: legs. And, equally as important,
she goes for it. “Sign away my voice? Hell yes. That’s how badly I want legs and this boy.” And it’s brilliant.
This concludes my dispatch from story hell.