Storycraft for serious authors.
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Context for your Writing Apprenticeship

(I am posting this here in the main thread – it already existed as a back-end page – at the suggestion of a reader. It was offered via link in my last post, which was an important one for newer writers especially – and frustrated ones in particular – as literally a prologue to the post itself.

I know how this works, my guess is very few readers clicked through to it. Sort of like not reading the instructions in the box when you get home from Best Buy. But this has some context worth considering. You can click through to the post it preempts, or simply scroll down here, it appears right after this one.)

I have to say, I’ve been amused in the past when people have left a review of one of my writing books complaining that the whole thing could have been covered in a simple article. Writers are not immune to the wide spectrum of human behavior that embraces everyone on the scales of genius, hubris and crazy.

Okay, fine. Pretty much anything can be reduced to its core elements and logic within a limited space. Like, an article or a post. Remember when you told your kids the facts of life? Just sayin’.

It’s just that not everyone can wrap their head around complex theories and multi-element models – some of which seem to contradict that which you have been taught or have been led to believe –without some context and elaboration, even repetition through a strategic breakdown of the content. Sometimes it takes an entire wing in a bookstore to shatter the wall of resistance and the deeply rooted hold of old limiting beliefs – not to mention blind adherence to what some people say, including famous writers who want you to believe their genius is more magic than mechanics – that bind people to the truth.

So now, for cynics or those in a hurry or if you’re just plain curious, here is the principle of story structure for novelists especially, reduced to its core essences… in just under 2000 words. To be honest, I tried to cover this ground in less than 1000 words, but I couldn’t touch all the requisite bases in a way that delivered value.

This isn’t something I’ve made up – I’ve seen references to Larry Brooks’ Story Structure out there… while perhaps flattering (or not), this simply refers to what I’m doing right here, and in my books and workshops and generally on this website. Which is to offer my take on these core elements of craft, arranged as accessibly and logically as I can render it, in a field in which clarity is sometimes in short supply and peripheral opinions are thick as thieves.

And yet, there are still people that tell me they just don’t get it. Right alongside people who tell me that they reject it… it being the existence of an omnipresent story structure model that is visible within nearly every single successful novel you can find. Which is why I keep trying to clarify.

The rationale is this: if pretty much all traditionally-published novels are built around these principles, including bestsellers by authors who aren’t even sure how they got there, what are your chances in this marketplace if you try to invent a new form of storytelling all by your lonesome? That’s like trying to reinvent the hamburger, folks, or even the filet mignon… diners go to those restaurants because they know what they want, and they’ll enjoy the nuance but not a variance from the core thing itself.

Even the titles of famous writers who claim this is heresy and formula – they’re everywhere – end up applying these very same principles to their own work. It’s not exactly hypocrisy – even when it smells just like hypocrisy – it’s actually a case of vocal nay-sayers arguing about process, actually selling you their process as the superior or only option, rather than more accurately focusing on product. They don’t want to consider that their process could actually be made more efficient and effective, as opposed to just sitting down and writing whatever they feel and want to write… and gee, look how wonderfully that turned out for them? That’s what they’re selling you, and leading you down a slippery slope in doing so.

Do it just like Stephen King does it.  Or Famous Author X, who claims there are no principles involved, just his particular brand of genius. Just be sure you know and can leverage what Stephen King knows.

Not many do.

If an author infuses these principles into their stories early in the process, that simply means – it actually proves – that those principles have become second nature to them. Derrick Jeter didn’t talk much about his swing, but that doesn’t mean he advocates just standing in there and taking a hack at anything that looks close to the strikezone.

And if it took them many drafts to get there – and they always get there, if the book is out in the marketplace – then that very process of rewriting and editing was about nothing other than (besides some wordsmithing) bringing the errant early story back into closer alignment with the principles of story structure that they can’t or won’t admit to.

Story structure is like gravity. Until you honor its force and truth, nothing really works of you’re trying invent a flying machine. If all you’re doing is taking a walk, then maybe you don’t need to think too much about gravity. Just ask yourself which is a closer analogy to writing a novel: inventing a flying machine, or walking around the block.

It is so much easier to be perceived as a genius of some kind than acknowledge a principle that actually and naturally infuses your story with narrative power. Better to have people believe that all of the narrative power of your work was a product of you, not of a principle that you put into play.

I know one guy, pretty successful (in a genre-club sort of way) and out there on the periphery of the writing workshop circuit, who begins his sessions with a denial of anything that shows us what works and what doesn’t – in other words, principles, which he prematurely lumps into the dark corner of rules, which of course nobody wants to consider – in favor of… wait for it… learning “how to” like he learned it, and then doing it like he does it. Which is… what, exactly? Paying your dues like he paid his? Breaking down his own novels because, hey, this is how he does it?  When in fact, he didn’t invent that paradigm at all, he simply backed into “what works – because that is what works – after his own dance with trail and error.

He didn’t invent it. But he’s now practicing it, no matter how he finally encountered it. It doesn’t have be a religious experience after a decade or two of trial and error, applying what you’ve learned.

Because you can learn it right at square one, if you open yourself to it.

Thing is… internalizing these story structure truths become the raw grist of storytelling genius. (This is true for that guy, too, he wasn’t born with it, no matter what he tells you.) Once you begin to think this principle-driven way, to plan your stories this way, you will have stepped into a sort of genius in your own right.

Suffering is optional.

Learning this stuff can cut decades off of your learning curve.

If you’d like elaboration, just type “story structure” into the search function to the right, you’ll be shown a menu with well over 50 articles on the topic, including a couple of graphics that say it all on one page.

For now, on to the 2000 words on the subject I’ve promised you. CLICK HERE to go back to that post.

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16 Responses

  1. Mike,

    Weaving those subplots can be intricate work. For me, it currently consists of a community set in the future, each character representing a different aspect of the life in that era. I had way too many characters to begin with and have since paired them down, some doing double duty for the characters that were cut. All their lives cross into one another’s, even if not personally known to one another.

    And even with an outline, those characters have evolved as I make my way through the first draft. Because as writers, we simply cannot think of everything at once. The very fact that I can see where those characters would have over-populated and complicated my first draft, not to mention all the time I would’ve taken trying to flesh them out, make them work, would’ve ended in madness.

    My suggestion is not to put anyone down who can pants their way through a story and make it work. However, I tend to think a bit too large and complicated initially. The more detailed a story (or a writer) the harder I think it becomes create a linear novel and not get lost in those details. Then you not only end up unraveling a great many knots in future drafts, but you have so much more that needs cutting—made harder by the fact you struggled to get those detail correct, possibly have done some decent writing you’re now attached to personally.

    Every story I work on has taken me down new avenues with new approaches. They’ve all added to my craft arsenal, yet I still haven’t settled on just one way. I think once you develope a real love for craft you naturally want to keep learning, expanding, evolving as a writer.

  2. … I guess I should have said: “I’m certain that the story will be much, much better than anything I could have come up with, =without= this process.” Heck, it might even be publishable. And wouldn’t that be nice . . .

  3. @Robert –

    I find myself doing much the same thing right now. I’ve also described each character. If that character isn’t going to be what (s)he initially appears to be, I brainstorm what the changes should be and how they might be revealed. If his/her presence in the scene is to “pull” the scene this way or that, I brainstorm that also. So, “now my chessboard has chesspieces.”

    When describing a scene, I don’t write it – I talk (to myself) about it. I note what the scene requires to have happened already, and what (if anything) the scene reveals.

    I have also observed something first-hand that – so far and as far as I know – @Larry hasn’t written about much: that the story consists of multiple threads, “story arcs,” one for each significant character. It also seems to consist of sub-stories, each of which also has a progression and necessary story-structure. The scenes that develop each “sub” must be interleaved so that the reader won’t forget about them, and to reflect the passage of story-time, but also to make sure that each one builds-up to and then “reveals” its payload(s) at the proper moment(s). You can =do= that sort of thing pragmatically, if you’re not confined by thinking in terms of “drafts.” Because now, “change is cheap.”

    “Those 3×5 cards that are scattered all over your desk, some of them underneath a cat? You call =that= a ‘story?'” Uh huh.

    I’m still a long way from =inventing= what my story will actually turn out to be. But I am confident that I have, and am working through, a creative =process= that will take me where I want to go. And, I’m certain that the story will be much, much stronger for it.

    I guess you might say that “I, too, am looking forward to reading it.”

  4. Great analogy, Mike. It’s much easier to see problems while looking at a few pages or a handful of scene cards than 300 plus pages. I’m already cutting scenes and combining others on my current WIP, roughed out on scene cards.

    I use a scene-by-scene approach, giving each card a few lines describing the main action of the scene, where it begins, and where it ends. Nothing is written in stone if I need to make changes. And the way the characters perform in each scene isn’t written, so there’s still plenty to be spontaneous with. In fact, the outlining process is pretty spontaneous and enjoyable as well. It’s basically a first draft of the plot in shorthand, but without all the nuance. Which frees me up to think about those things more fully while drafting.

  5. When you were in school, the first “big” piece of writing that you were required to do was a “term paper.” Your teacher taught you to start with an outline. Did you do it? Of course you didn’t. Was it an ordeal? Yes. Did the paper read well? Probably not. Until you actually started the next one … with an outline. An “outline” is an appropriate story-planning device for a term paper. You found that you could “get the paper right” =before= you wrote it.

    A big part of planning is “to make change cheap.” You’re going to be coming up with new ideas, changing them, and considering places to put them. You need a =process= for doing this which is faster and more flexible than “a draft.”

  6. Hi Daniel,

    In my own past research—and desire to be unpredictable, to have more going on and less wasted words—I’ve looked at several writer’s approach to structure. Some of it was fairly amorphous, like three main disasters and a conclusion. But when you look at their philosophy (some even have charts and graphs), it all pretty much equals what Larry teaches. Just with a lot less information in terms of what goes into each quarter.

    Some people feel less confined with a looser plan. If “plan” is word that works for you. Sometimes no plan seems like the best plan because ideas flow onto the page more spontaneously. And yet, there’s still re-editing, in which case a plan still forms by default. It’s just a matter of preference on how you get there.

    I prefer a plan that doesn’t give me every detail myself. But neither can I work my way through a novel length story without some kind of guide or I get lost in the tangents and search for a cohesive plot. I sometimes wish my stories were more linear in terms of detail, but I’m not a simple thinker. So I need to see the size and shape my story canvas is going to take.

    Simply put, structure is the canvas (format) onto which a story is built. And if you read through Larry’s post on deconstructing some popular books and movies, you’ll see that you can easily manipulate structure in clever ways and make it work to your benefit…and do pretty much whatever you want within that context. As many writers have.

    For me, craft is a series of techniques, but how a writer applies them is where they can truly shine. And it’s tough to separate craft from opinion sometimes. But understanding craft has always deepened my writing and enjoyment in playing with it, building on it, finding out who I am as a writer.

    I once attended an art school that consisted of 10 classes per week, two each day. Each one taught us different methods and techniques. And every day two assignments were due from the previous week and two new one’s were given. It was like boot camp for artists. The theory was, the more you expose yourself to different techniques, the more you absorb and grow. And the end result was that I took a sliver of from everything, and once digested, I was still me, but a much broader version of myself who was able to be a chameleon when it was necessary and adapt to pretty much whatever was thrown at me.

    Writers, new ones and even some who have been at it for a while, could do a lot worse than to do likewise. Isn’t that the golden rule? To read as widely as possible and absorb a variety of stories and styles? Yet, not everyone takes that advice beyond their own genre, or point of view. The result is, they are easily pigeon-holed into certain genres and get stuck there. I say take the broadest view possible.

    1. Hi Robert,
      thanks for replying to me. I’ve made some story plan, like a sketch of the structure. And I became a bit confused when was reading that structure doesn’t matter. And I really appreciate your answer, which explains to me a lot. Also I will search for an opportunity to attend some art school as you did. So to clarify everything even more.

      1. Daniel, you are welcome.

        I believe there has never been a better time to be a writer, and yet, as we throw out a lot of the dogma that surrounded the publishing industry, we are also tossing out the good as well as the bad. So it can also be a confusing time.

        Unfortunately, arts and entertainment world has always been a maze of opinions disguised as craft, a plethora of takes on the various points of craft, and while someone might tell you “This is what you have to do,” one minute, the next they’ll tell you, “It’s different for everyone, so you have to figure out what works best for you.” Hence, the dogma. It has always been confusing until you get beyond the smoke and mirrors and experiment a bit.

        Depending on who you read, or talk to, these days, you’ll either find people who feel craft and quality is being thrown out by corporate heads who spell success with dollars. The box they fit creativity into is getting smaller all the time. And once they use up an idea, they’ll toss it out as never being worthwhile again. Then start looking for the next cash cow. So the baby continually gets thrown out with the bath water. Which is not progression.

        Then you also have some creators who have the mentality of “See something that looks like a rule, kill it!” Which also throws out the proverbial baby. Hell, we’ve thrown out the bathtub, pluming, and house in some cases. But that’s reinventing the wheel entirely from scratch. And does it move us along the path of progress?

        There has to be a balance—and I think some common sense—to be found in all of this. Revolution is evolution, but we can’t evolve if there’s no foundation at all to build upon. And what the two extremes have in common is an amorphous outcome at best. A relearning of craft by means of dismissing everything, from an artistic POV, is a much longer road than even the initial sorting of craft from opinion we began with.

  7. @Robert –

    “Free writing” is terrific when you’re trying to develop a scene … and no doubt this stimulates the ol’ creative juices like few other things can … but it’s no-good at trying to construct the over-arching story of which the scene is to be one part.

    “Draft” each scene as many times as you like … and KEEP every one of them. (If you want to “re-write,” DUPLICATE the file first.)

  8. @MikeR…Some random babble on “Process” for you.

    I personally use a rough outline on index cards myself. And my first drafts—though I’ve had days when writing flows well and I want to perfect it—usually becomes superfluous because I never know which parts I’m going to have to edit out. For me, a first draft is a rough sketch to build on. Even if I write total crap, it will fire up the inner editor to do better rewrites the next time around when the story is more intact.

    However, I had a writer recently disagree with me when I stated this. Which is perfectly okay. His view is the more time spent perfecting the quality of the first draft, the fewer fixes he will have to do later. There are some well known writers who can spend each day perfecting a page or two so when they’re finished with that initial draft, there’s not as many rewrites. I sometimes wish my mind worked that way. It doesn’t. And that’s okay too.

    I’ve been around long enough at this point to have heard a multitude of writers talk about their own unique views of process. All of which I could easily find convincing arguments to the contrary. Which started me thinking how no matter where you go in the world of arts and entertainment, people are arguing about process. The contradiction being, the folks arguing will open the other side of their mouths and say give newbies some variation on, “It’s different for everyone. You have to figure out what works best for you.” And I can see the mushroom clouds going off in people’s heads.

    I was watching an episode of Jerry Seinfeld’s “Comedians In Cars Getting Coffee” on Netflix. And he says, discussing the life of comedians, “Everyone always argues over process. Aren’t we all headed for the same island?”

    BOOM!

    Yes. Damn it, yes!

    And while we all use the same basic craft techniques, the waters become very muddied with opinions, dogma, and sometimes even salesmen disguised as craftsmen selling tickets to ride on the propaganda barge.

    P.S.

    I have a few scene cards with holes punched through them from nearby cats trying to prove ideas can be both fun and edible 🙂

  9. When you _read_ a book, it’s a voyage of discovery that keeps you turning pages to discover what happens next. But when you _write_, you have to know what’s on that next page because you purposely put it there. “You’re making all this stuff up,” of course, but not every idea that pops into your head will work for _this_ story, and the ones that do, might work best at a different point in the narrative. These are all _decisions_, and if you do your job well, the reader will never consciously perceive that any “decision-making” occurred at all. It will look like magic. (And when you become rich and famous and are interviewed by Writer’s Digest, you’ll be expected to say that it _was_ magic.)

    If you write “draft upon draft,” you’re _literally_ wasting your own time, investing good writing effort too soon. Doing it that way takes too much time and it discourages change, when, at the initial stages of the creative process, change needs to be very cheap and easy.

    First you come up with good ideas, then you _arrange_ them into a story, looking for gaps and weaknesses and dreaming up ways to fill them. These initial steps need to be done in a way that encourages and facilitates change. (3×5 index cards laid out on the kitchen table works fine if there are no cats nearby.) It feels like putting together a jigsaw puzzle except that you’re inventing each piece, keeping the best of them and putting the others into a box to use next time. All this long before you write a single page of prose. This is an _efficient_ process.

  10. How can anyone write a novel without some form of story structure? You sure seem to have hit a nerve with these articles though. I think this is great stuff. Keep up the good work

  11. Friends, Romans, and citizens of StoryFix,

    What you guys have said so far is true as far as the levels you’ve approached this discussion on so far goes. You’ve all made some credible points. But allow me to add one more level to be factored into this discussion. The can of worms Amazon and the internet have opened in the field of creative writing is not exactly a new thing. It may be new to the writing community on certain levels, but I’ve seen this before. There are opportunities and pitfalls for both established and new writers—and I’ll touch on those shortly—but let me paint a picture of what has happened first using another creative field in order to gain distance and perspective.

    From around the mid-80s to the mid-90’s (for those who may not be aware, or around at the time) the comic book industry began to expand. The number of indie companies was increasing yearly, as were the numerous comic book shops. Direct sales to comic shops opened new doors and new opportunities for creators prior to the internet. If you had an idea for your own series, there was suddenly a lot of creator owned deals being made, or you could form your own company and self publish directly if you had a little cash. The circumstances and the media were different, but the urge to bypass the gatekeepers while spitting in their faces was the same as it is currently. Suddenly those who wanted to work for companies like Marvel and work on the comics they grew up with, were selling out according to the indie side of the argument. They wanted their work to grow organically, without formulas or fan-boy copycats of popular artists and writers. By the time I went to art school, the blissful society of creators lasted less than a month before the arguments caused our mini-culture to divide and sub-divide. You couldn’t hold a reasonable conversation with some folks after that without someone getting pissed off about the rules. The dividing line between traditional vs. indie publishing was drawn.

    Sound familiar?

    And while some people did well taking advantage of the new opportunities that came about from all this expansion, spitting anger and burning bridges has never been a good idea. On either side. The industry was changing and several artists/writers developed their own companies so one never knows who might end up in the driver’s seat. It may well be the new up and comer. Or if the business venture fails at some point, the gate keepers you spat on are going to remember you very well.

    What happened in the comic book industry is the big corporations who owned the larger companies also wanted to take advantage of the opportunity and shut the little guys out. A boom was created in the industry and it was flooded with sub-par material from the larger companies—and some of the indies who tried to keep up and make sales as well. The problem with booms, or any significant changes made by a corporation is that if sales begin falling, they change again. Much like Amazon changing their algorithms to favor more traditional publisher over the indies once again in their searches. Big business, no matter how awesome they might appear for a while, will always go where the money goes. And if things begin to look unfavorable in one area, they are liable to throw out the baby, the bath water, and the tub in order to pursue something else.

    When a corporation decides they’ve drained one cash cow—sometimes even before the end is even in site—they are looking for the next one.

    A prime example of Corporate America at work in the above instance is that once the internet came around, those comic book companies were already looking toward the future. Statements were passed around like, “Comic books will always be around, we just don’t know what the venue they take on in the future.” And after bouncing around a bit once the boom began to fade, instead of re-upping their game in comics, they turned to movies. Comic shops closed just as quickly as they opened. Because once the larger companies turn away from something, all the little indies combined can’t really make up for the sales and notoriety of the bigger presses. The frustrating fact is, thy have the money and resources. And even if you never want to work for those guys, they still control the lion’s share of the market. Meaning, what they decide to do next effects the entire industry from the top right on down. So after the boom, always comes a lull.

    All business happens in waves.

    And while the wave is cresting, jobs are created and passed around like like popcorn during a box office smash. During the comics boom, I knew people who got work from the big companies just because they could hold a pencil, or had an idea they thought was cool. They gladly jumped on board unprepared. Afterwards, those guys never got work again. Their craft, in other words, was fair to middling. And when opportunities began to dry up, those who didn’t have a solid handle on what they were doing, weren’t adaptable, went back to working on projects in their basements, or at Starbucks. Some gave up all together after being spun through the meat grinder.

    Professional attitudes can weather potential storms. Knowledge and a skill set can get you exposure. Never stop learning. And you should never miss an opportunity to pick the brains of professionals who are willing to teach. Because they can go away too. Ask anyone who was starting out anywhere in the entertainment world prior to the internet. No one had a voice. And creators were next to impossible to have pin down and have regular meaningful chats with. Someone early on told me to respect even the creators I didn’t agree with because they were working and were therefore doing something right. They knew something I didn’t and it was worth my time to discover and understand that bit of knowledge.

    The upside is pretty self explanatory to for newbies. New opportunities abound. The downside is hopefully becoming apparent here as well.

    It’s a good time to be a writer. If you’re like me, any time I get to sit at my keyboard and compose words is a good time. We’re all on the same path, but it’s not really about the road. It’s about the journey. If you’re not enjoying it, picking up new techniques and experimenting as you go, leaving some of the knowledge you learned behind, then what’s the point? We’re all riding on the coat-tails of those who came before us, are we not? If you’re persistent enough and work hard enough, future generations will be reading your work, learning from your precepts. And hopefully you’ll be able to share a slice of what you made from all you’ve undertaken on your own journey. If you’re lucky, they won’t totally ignore your cake and bicker about the frosting. But probably they will act like they invented the entire concept of cake and tell you to go stuff envelopes for a living. So be prepared. People don’t change a whole lot. Could that be because we keep gnawing the same old bones and passing them on? Quite possibly. Of course, each generation has an opportunity to build bridges, but they usually ignore it favor of speaking out of pride and ego and we go around in the same circle again and again, our struggles (and the process) never getting any easier.

    The future is really up to each of us, isn’t it?

  12. I suspect Larry is running into different levels of developed minds–and not all are capable of understanding the psychology of a story, let alone write it.

    The proof of my comment can be observed with day to day people. Some can articulate their day with compelling description and humor. Others can only speak in short tweets/texts and their vocabulary consists of thirtytwo words, one of them being “like.”

    Factor in the low–sorry, VERY low attention span (scientifically proven to be similar to a gold fish) and a fasincation with acroynms (can’t take the time to describe the detail so non-words like BFF are used).

    These non-articulate people are easily offended, which is ironic becuase their level of understanding detail in the world is very, very low.

    These are the people who argue over everything they claim to understand but again, can’t prove a thing in detail.

    Why argue with them about story dynamics?

    I’ve seen these people bash Story Engineering and have personally called them on it to explain in detail their reasoning.

    POOF–they disappear. (After calling me vile names for having the audacity to challenge their opinions).

    And no, they didn’t know what audacity was.

    Writing involved the mind and the non-physical, hence is challenging to understand like how wireless communication provides your phone and laptop with movies. Physical stuff is tangible and eaiser to grasp. The non-physical is hard and can deceive you.

    An individual goes through the below process, no exceptions (when the individual is introduced with something foreign to its world):

    All truth passes through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident. –Arthur Schopenhauer

    Clearly, Larry Brooks gets ridiculed. But the joke is on the fool doing it.

  13. “This play consists of 115 acts.” “This piece of music consists of silence punctuated by the sound of various people snoring.” “This magnificent masterpiece consists of an empty piece of canvas with a hole in it.” Yes, if you were an Arts major who didn’t know any better (yet), you might have been coerced into producing a research paper about such things. But you never would have bought one at the newsstand, bought a ticket to the movie, nor watched it on TV.

    After turning in your accursed research paper (which no one but your professor will ever read), perhaps you did buy a product. Probably, you did enjoy it. And you did so because the producers of that product – who do this for a living, and who do it thousands of times – have learned how. Even though every single instance of their product is always somehow different, they have still “learned how.” And so, if you seriously want to pitch new products to them and persuade them to buy it, you must “learn how” too.

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