Storycraft for serious authors.
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The Secret Weapon of Successful Novelists… is Also the Most Obvious

by Larry Brooks

Life and art are funny this way.

Sometimes the most powerful truths are right there in front of us all along. And yet, when we encounter them along the path, we step right over that stone instead of peeking beneath to harvest its value.

Comedic genius  Steve Martin (if that’s a new name to you, then you were probably born after the Y2K scare) says he knows how to avoid paying taxes on a million dollars. To know more about income tax services, click here https://taxfyle.com/blog/what-is-a-1099-form. We all want to know, right? The answer is this: “Well, first, you get a million dollars…”

Which for novelists translates like this: for new writers especially, the key, the trick, the secret entry code to breaking into the business–indeed, to writing a bona fide bestseller–is to come up with a million dollar story idea.

And yet, hardly anybody at the writing conference it talking about that.

As the release date for my new writing book (“Great Stories Don’t Write Themselves“) approaches (note the countdown clock to the right of this post), I’m starting to do some interviews and field the common question within them that is, essentially, this:

How is this book different than your previous three writing books? What is the Bright Shiny Object that powers this new book? What makes it unique in the massively bland sea of writing books that all seem to be a repackaging of the same things, if not simply one author talking about their preferred process, which is entirely different than talking about what makes a story actually work at its core?

Here’s my answer, framed by the proposition that each of the key phases, elements and essences of a functional story (novel or screenplay) can be driven by, and juxtaposed against, a set of universal principles–expressed as criteria–that define what, how and why the element and essence in question does, in fact, work.

In other words, how and why the story resonates with readers. How the writer can optimize their choices across the entire arc of the story… beginning with the core idea itself.

That alone separates the book from everything else on the craft shelf. The book presents and analyzes over seventy specific criteria that fuel those various essential phases, parts, elements (like scenes and transitional milestones within story structure) and essences of a story.

But where’s the million dollar answer to that question about the story idea? It is this:

The book frames, defines, discusses and exemplifies the key criteria that apply to story ideas that glow in the dark. Including the inescapable logic of why you need your story idea to glow in the dark if you are serious about competing for readers in a professional marketplace.

Once again, screenwriters are a step ahead of novelists in this focus.

I’ve been saying this for years: if you want to hop into the fast lane of learning how to write stories, study screenwriting. They learn more in the first week of an intensive course of study that some novelists encounter over years, even decades.

Just today, as I was cruising around Amazon to see what’s new on the craft shelf, I found a title by screenwriter Erik Bork: The Idea. And I realized that he was preaching from the same choir loft that I am. To wit, here’s what the front-matter on that book’s Amazon page says:

But even the best fiction writing books and screenwriting experts tend to move quickly past the crucial step of choosing a viable idea, to get to the specific plotting and composition of it, because there is so much to master in those later parts of the process — which feel a lot more like “writing” than developing and mulling over potential story concepts.

Professionals, though, tend to understand the primacy of “the idea,” and learn that there are certain key elements in story or series premises that really work, and which are worth investing time and energy in. And that’s what The Idea focuses on — laying out what those specific elements are, and how to master them.

Amen, brother Erik. He may not even realize how rare it is for a novel writing workshop, or teacher, or published author, to tell us what constitutes a Big Idea, and what the various criteria for recognizing and exploring that idea consist of.

Which is precisely how my new writing book is different.

Not only from my prior writing books, but from pretty much any other fiction writing text you’ve read. It’s about the primacy, the inherent power, of a story idea that works, which is defined by the way the idea gives way to a fully-functional story premise.

And then, how to apply specific criteria to each expositional step of bringing that premise alive on the pages. Not just the idea, but across the entire arc of your novel.

Within my book’s macro-framework of assigning criteria to the full arc and art of a novel, part by part, scene by scene— imagine, for example, crafting your story’s Midpoint story-turn in context to a fuller understanding of the Midpoint’s mission with the macro-arc of the story, and the three specific criteria that ensure its functional efficacy–a full third of the book focuses on how to raise the level and enrich the promise of the story idea itself, which in turn puts all of the rest of the story machine into a higher gear, both dramatically and emotionally.

Of course, the final judgement of what makes for a strong idea versus a lesser idea remains imprecise and personal. But consider this: roughly half of the rejections issued by agents, publishers and readers (via bad reviews or simply deciding to not read the thing) connect to the strength of the core story idea itself… it’s promise, its inherent potential, its originality, the buttons it pushes, the initial response it causes.

The entire notion of what a story idea is, how it evolves into a story premise (if you think they are the same thing, then you are wildly undervaluing the role of your idea in the entire storytelling proposition), is presented, analyzed, and broken down into a core mission, and then three specific criteria, one of which is a total game changer that becomes evident (after you finally see it more clearly) in virtually every breakout bestseller you’ve ever read.

Once you’re certain your story idea is indeed one that glows in the dark, what happens next takes on a blissful new urgency full of empowerment. Because now you’ll have the empowering contextual awareness of the part-specific criteria that ensures the story lives up to the promise of your brilliant idea… by turning you into a brilliant storyteller, as well.

Here’s a taste of what you find in Great Stories Don’t Write Themselves, lifted from the Introduction: 

It is rare, even unheard of, when someone in the writing community will tell you that your story idea isn’t strong enough. It’s as if the default position—to an extent that it is commonly considered to be part of the conventional wisdom—is that a writer can and should write anything they want. Even that they can define what a story is, when in fact the idea may not qualify as a criteria-meeting story at all.

This is no different than believing we can and should eat and drink anything—and as much as—we want, when there are principles that clearly show us we cannot do so and simultaneously seek a high level of health. Ice cream for dinner every day… sooner or later there are consequences.

When a friend or a writing teacher allows you to settle for a thin or weak idea, simply by refraining to tell you that they don’t see great potential in your story idea, they haven’t served you. Or possibly, they aren’t able to differentiate a strong idea from a vanilla one at this early stage. They nod and smile and say, “Wow, that sounds terrific!” When in fact, it actually doesn’t, as least to someone who understands the criteria for a good story idea at its core.

Rejection may be the closest you’ll get to an assessment in that regard.

Here’s what you’ll understand, once you’ve read my new book: Not every idea for a story is a great idea for a story.

And much like that sow’s ear aspiring to become a silk purse, knowing how to craft a well-told story (itself a criteria-driven sensibility) is often not enough to elevate a vanilla idea to the level of dramatic and emotional resonance readers are looking for.

Consider that you no longer have to simply guess. Or bet the farm on your own assessment of what makes an idea strong, or not. Armed with, and informed by, proven criteria that can in retrospect be applied to virtually any story that works, you no longer need to be alone with those odds.

*****

Great Stories Don’t Write Themselves: Criteria-Driven Strategies for More Effective Fiction will be published by Writers Digest Books (a division of Penguin/Random House) on October 8, 2019. You can pre-order on Amazon here, or on BN.com here

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5 Responses

  1. @Larry is a gifted teacher who knows how to teach not only through seminars but also through books. While the ideas are (of course) “not things that have never been said before by others,” the framing and presentation is best-of-breed. I have all of his volumes on my shelf with space for more. “Satisfied Customer here.”

    Speaking of “screenwriting,” one of the best books I ever saw was “The Trouble With Tribbles,” by David Gerrold, describing how he wrote and sold one of the most iconic episodes of the original STAR TREK television series. Most important was his description of the process – from a two-page pitch to a twenty-page premise to a rainbow-colored shooting script. (“David, also, is a gifted teacher.”) There *IS* A Process™ in the creation of commercial fiction! Learn it.

  2. Hi Larry,

    You’re absolutely right, as usual. I think the reason why so many writers agree an idea could be good when spouted by a novice is two-fold.
    1) No one seems to want to come across as offensive—especially when they want to sell their ideas. But I’ve seem a number of people pandering to their market in ways that hurt rather than educate. I think that’s largely responsible for those who avoid craft altogether. Which truly bothers me because some of those writers who promoted this idea of “Write whatever you want,” knew better.
    2) In the mind of a writer who understands craft, they may see a way to make those ideas work where the writer who is just starting out does not. Because let’s face it, without an understanding of those things you talked about, even a good idea can flop.

    In my experience, people who burn out on craft early, or reject it outright, usually have a deep fear of some amorphous publishing demon who is bent on changing/sabotaging the idea they feel is their million dollar baby. And maybe it their idea could be just that, who knows?

    Whenever I hear these things from newbie writers, I’m usually taken back to my own early days of attempting to write a novel. I saw the ideas clearly in my mind, playing out like a movie. They were exciting, visually. Yet, when I showed my work around, people could always figure out what was going on, or were critical of things which seem abundantly clear to me. It was frustrating, naturally. This is because there’s a gap between the visual in a new writers mind and what actually makes it onto the page. And we usually take our own sweet time giving the reader details, history, explanations before the story gets going. We feel those things are necessary up front. And to spite the idea, even our own imagination, we skip the learning curve and dive in sans all criteria. Hence, the format and layout are often all over the place.

    I’m not sure if this stage in a writers life is a right of passage, or just plain stubbornness to prove something to the world at large. But once we get past that part of ourselves, there’s usually a decision to be made. And that choice is usually either that writing is not for us, or it’s time find the right books (those that don’t all say those same things again and again), the right teachers, who can help us to understand craft is malleable, and show us how to make our ideas work on the page rather than change us into a Hollywood Zombie composing the next action blockbuster sellout.

    It really does begin with an understanding of how to spot the gold up front, within our conceptual theory.

    BTW, Larry, I thought about all you’ve said about the Superman concept when I saw the trailer for “Brightburn.” I think someone might’ve been listening 🙂

  3. I began to see sometime back that screenwriting principles are of great help to me as a learning novelist. I want to thank you for reinforcing my thoughts.

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