This is Story Fanatic, a collection of articles covering story structure and analysis for
creative writers. Published weekly.
Characters locked into challenging situations seek out a way to break free. Instead of concentrating on what needs to be done or developing a new understanding, these individuals strive to dislodge their external bonds. A goal awaits at the end of every problem-solving endeavor; the goal itself exhibits different qualities depending on the problem itself.
Having unlocked the purpose of a Story Goal, attention now shifts towards exploring the different iterations available to Authors. Moving beyond the simple goal of winning something new, these new areas offer insight into the kinds of inequities that can also be found in the external world. The lens encased within each grants a writer the opportunity to dial in the exact story they want to tell.
Many insist that the most important thing an Author needs to know about their story is what their Main Character wants. That drive, they maintain, gives a story its flow. Yet, there is a different way to look at the Goal of a story, one that provides a more holistic view of a story’s true purpose and one that works in concert beautifully with a Main Character’s wants and needs.
Great stories balance point-of-view. They focus an Audience on one perspective, then swoop in from the other side to provide a better understanding of the unfolding events. Shocked with the cognitive dissonance many try to avoid, those sitting in the theater have no other alternative than to simply absorb the experience and become one with the message of the story. Great stories…like Chinatown.
To some, story theory seems pointless. One template after another, each building upon the previous with information irrelevant to the art of writing. Yet still the exploration of greater understanding continues. Could there be a reason many find themselves driven to uncover the forces behind great storytelling?
Protagonist and Antagonist are not made up words fostered upon an unwilling public. They have both purpose and reason. Writers facing broken stories would do well to focus on purpose rather than who the good guys and bad guys are. They need to begin to think objectively.
Some films seem a little bit…off. Sure, they may look gorgeous and they may bring smiles to apple-cheeked tykes and maybe perhaps that is all that is required of a movie…but there is always that nagging sensation that sits at the back on one’s mind that says Something about that film wasn’t right. More often than not that sensation owes itself to a poorly structured argument.
Many writers overwrite. Whether through flowery descriptions or elaborate and painful backstories, the end result remains the same: something needs to go. But how does one determine what they can and cannot delete? Understanding the reason for story provides a potential clue.
Why leave the purpose of a story up to chance? Writers lift pens and place fingers on keys to say something about the human condition, not to engage in masturbatory ego-fulfillment. Writing blind only guarantees long hours of pondering why and lost opportunities for even greater storytelling.
The ease with which visual conflict plays out on-screen leads filmmakers towards visiting familiar territory. Conflict exists, however, in both the external and internal domains. Rarely traversed, this realm of within offers those in the cinematic arts an opportunity to try something new.