What starts out as a compelling look into one’s personal struggle with Lou Gehrig’s disease devolves into a messy soap opera devoid of subjective perspective. More concerned with love lost and gained than how one of history’s smartest men managed to remain one of history’s smartest men, The Theory of Everything supplants satisfactory resolution with an out-pouring of tears and mutual understanding.
The story begins firmly set within the mind of Main Character Stephen Hawking (the well-deserved Academy Award winning Eddie Redmayne). We see what it feels like to slowly lose our ability to walk, to eat and to talk. We are Stephen. But we lose that emotional connection the moment he makes his Hawking Radiation discovery and consequently, lose our empathy with the film’s remaining events.
Instead, the filmmakers focus their attention on Steadfast Jane (Felicity Jones) and her budding romance with Jonathan Jones (Charlie Cox, the bastard who tried that same slimy “I’m just a friend” worm technique in Boardwalk Empire). Romantic triangles are triangulated and interest in Hawking’s discoveries wane. Instead of wondering how he manages to maintain focus long enough to write a book, we wonder how he manages to maintain focus long enough to keep it up. With the two principal characters split, the primary relationship in the story fractures, taking with it any meaningful connection with the story’s primary argument (God vs. science).
We do return for a split second round-up during Stephen’s final presentation and the scene where he grants Jane the notion of God (signifying a Main Character Resolve of Change), but by then our attachment, so damaged by lack of attention, fails to solidify the argument. We kinda-sorta buy into Stephen’s change, but really, we know he still doesn’t believe.
Worth the price of admission if for nothing else than Redmayne’s stunning performance, The Theory of Everything stands as a perfect example of what happens when you fail to completely finish the arugment you began in the first Act.
If story is king, then Whiplash is royalty.
Doubling down with fantastic performances from J.K. Simmons and Miles Teller, writer/director Damien Chazelle crafts a tight and tense narrative that never relents and never strays from its central argument.
Main Character Andrew Neiman (Miles Teller) practices, practices and practices some more (Main Character Approach: Do-er) as he pursues the goal of being one of the greats (Protagonist, Overall Story Goal: Being). Conductor Terrence Fletcher (J.K. Simmons) stands in Andrew’s way, both logistically and emotionally (Antagonist and Influence Character respectively), hurling cymbals and slapping faces (Relationship Story Domain: Activities, Relationship Story Concern: Doing), all in an effort to break his students down (Overall Story Requirements: Becoming) on their way to being the very best at the Shaffer Conservatory in New York (Overall Story Concern: Being).
Natural talent rules the stage (Overall Story Issue: Ability), with Terrence terrorizing students for playing in the wrong key (Overall Story Domain: Psychology, Overall Story Symptom: Accurate) and sabotaging their performances by removing much-needed sheet music (Overall Story Response: Non-Accurate). Driven to create the next Buddy Rich (Influence Character Problem: Cause), Terrence stops at nothing to demean those under his tutelage (Influence Character Issue: Value). Explosive and unwavering in his righteous approach, Terrence relentlessly breaks Andrew down with everything he can’t do (Influence Character Concern: Impulsive Responses, Influence Character Domain: Fixed Attitude, Influence Character Response: Unproven).
At the heart of their relationship lies their true problem–Andrew’s determination to be one of the greats vs. Terrence’s determination to send mother-less Andrew home crying (Relationship Story Problem: Determination, Main Character Domain: Situation).
Andrew only slows down when he feels he has proven himself worthy of Fletcher’s admiration (Main Character Solution: Proven), an indulgence that only serves to demotivate and ultimately, defeat him. The moment he finds himself up against a new drummer, Andrew kicks in and redoubles his efforts (Main Character Problem: Unproven)–an approach that eventually pays off (Main Character Resolve: Steadfast).
Terrence sets Andrew up, preferring to focus on the one responsible for his termination rather than the potential in that one for greatness (Overall Story Problem: Cause) setting the stage for Andrew’s failure. But the future great-one leaves his doting father in the wings, returns to his kit and faces Terrence as the menace he always was (Main Character Signpost 4: Future, Main Character Unique Ability: Threat).
Andrew’s performance changes Terrence, to the point where the immovable conductor cares less about being the agent for change and more about improving the effectiveness of Andrew’s set (Influence Character Resolve: Change, Influence Character Solution: Effect). Resetting the cymbal cements this growth of character and insures a fruitful performance (Overall Story Solution: Effect), fulfilling Andrew with the peace of mind that the suffering was worth it (Story Judgment: Good) and guaranteeing his place among the greats (Story Outcome: Success).
With a narrative as tight and effective as this, Whiplash too guarantees its place among the great films of all time.
Dramatica Storyform: Steadfast, Start, Do-er, Linear, Action, Optionlock, Success, Good, Psychology, Being, Ability, Cause
A sloppy meal that leaves one hungry for something substantive, Jon Favreau’s Chef flops as it defends the right to flop. Contrast this with a film like Ratatouille that shares similar ambitions–yet succeeds at a higher level–and one begins to understand the difference between a capable narrative and a broken one.
Two huge logic errors curse this story: One, how did the passion to create new fantastic dishes suddenly turn into a fervor to heat up ham and cheese sandwiches? And two, why on Earth did Martin (John Leguizamo) leave his sous chef position to join Albert minutes after expressing excitement for his recent promotion? Both events reek of convenience of story rather than integral components of a fully functioning narrative.
Compound these missteps with the usual affronts to comprehensive storytelling and one begins to recognize the familiar recipe for disaster. No Influence Character Throughline. No Relationship Story Throughline. No Story Limit. The last leaves Audiences flailing around blindly for some clue as to when the torture will end. A road movie that doesn’t kick in until halfway through the movie is not a road movie. The first two story points (the Influence Character and Relationship Story Throughlines) work in tandem to give Audiences the heart of a story. When missing or defective, as in Chef, Audience empathy dies.
Albert’s son should have supplied this valuable aspect of story, but unfortunately didn’t. As a result, ham-fisted scenes like the one where Albert tells his son Hey, I know we’re having a great time, but I’m going to go back to being a jerk when we get home worm their way into the story, breaking down all sense of emotional logic. That scene exists only to give Albert somewhere to grow. A more appropriate approach would have been to develop a meaningful relationship between father and son that counters and reflects the larger conflict inherent between artists and critics. Do sons have a right to criticize their parents? Should parents undergo appraisal? How does the recipe for effective parenthood reflect the tasty morsels found in mom and pop taco trucks across the Valley?
These are the kinds of questions Chef should have asked. These are the kinds of questions that would have prompted the development of Throughlines necessary to support and flesh out the message delivered here. Instead, audiences find themselves faced with sitting through what amounts to a single artist complaining about people complaining about his work. Great catharsis if you’re the artist. Not so-great if you’re the one on the receiving end.
91% on Rotten Tomatoes? Once again, confirmation that popular opinion reflects popular opinion, not sophistication of story.
Surprisingly engaging, Enough Said tells the story of frightened empty-nester Eva (Julia Louis-Dreyfus) and her challenged romance with Albert (James Gandolfini). Wholly engaging while maintaining a gentleness of spirit, the film stands as a prime example of what it means to tell a complete story.
While subtle in tone, the thematics present in the storyform ring out for all to hear. Albert’s repulsion of both his ex-wife and eventually Eva challenges Eva’s inclination to constantly second guess her romance with Albert and what she should do about it (Influence Character Issue of Repulsion, Main Character Issue of Reappraisal). Albert’s Problem of Inaction functions as the perfect foil for Eva’s personal Problem of Acceptance. Eva’s decision to finally ask her client to help carry the massage table up the stairs signifies a Main Character Resolve of Change and Solution of Non-Acceptance (She’s not going to put up with it anymore).
Those who have experienced the confusion and lack of purposeful direction that sets in after a divorce will find more than enough to relate to in this beautifully touching film. Those who haven’t can join the former in experiencing an intelligent and emotionally fulfilling film irregardless of their relationship status. The narrative of Enough Said, by virtue of its solid storyform, supplies a message of growth and catharsis that outshines the kind of understanding one gains from day-to-day life. Enough Said moves beyond the ordinary to deliver something truly extraordinary and in the process, becomes something memorable.
Storyform: Change, Start, Be-er, Holistic, Action, Optionlock, Success, Good, Activity, Learning, Preconditions, Acceptance
A slow and plodding tale that neglects to engage Audience empathy, A Most Wanted Man misses the mark when it comes to satisfying the spy thriller genre. The weak and underdeveloped Throughline of Main Character Günther Bachman (Phiilip Seymour Hoffman) distances the viewer by failing to give personal insight into his issues. We know he has issues with Beirut, but we never feel what it’s like to have those issues. We never become him.
Robin Wright’s Martha Sullivan tries to fulfill the Influence Character role, but with little to no impact on Günther. The Relationship Throughline between the two principals spits and stutters, adding insult to injury when it comes to emotional engagement.
One feels compelled to rent a movie when it has a 91% rating on Rotten Tomatoes and when it features the final performance of a brilliant actor. In this case, one would do best to avoid such a complication. The high rating exists because of the overwhelming love for the man, not for the story.
Continuing the trend of madly successful films with little to no story, Disney’s Guardians of the Galaxy delights audiences everywhere with its tale of a boy who became a Star-Lord.
The Throughlines assume their favored position: an Earthling abducted from his parents (Chris Pratt) grants us the Main Character Throughline of a Problematic Situation, while the efforts to secure the Infinity Stone by all offer us the usual Problematic Activities for the Overall Story Throughline. Gamora (Zoe Saldana) slides into the Influence Character role with her cool and collected Problematic Fixed Attitude which leaves the Relationship Throughline in a conflict over Ways of Thinking.
The Main Character and Overall Story Throughlines play out as expected with Pine’s Quill overcoming his Problem of Avoidance; literally reaching out to Pursue both the Overall and Main Character Solutions. Unfortunately, Gamora’s Throughline peters out and dies leaving little to no reason why Quill actually changed his point-of-view.
To further the affront to competent story structure, their Relationship Throughline occupies but one scene over the span of 122 minutes–hardly the stuff of a well-developed thoroughly realized narrative. Quill may attempt to teach Gamora how to lighten up and sway those hips, but he never pursues that approach in subsequent scenes and as a result their relationship falters. Even if they had built upon this scene, it’s the wrong approach to take: Gamora is not the one who needs to change her way of thinking, Quill is. Forcing this dual change where they both “learn” something only confuses the point of the story further.
No doubt about it: Guardian’s smash success casts doubt on those who yearn for something more than simply attractive video game cut scenes. What does it mean when a broken story captures the imagination of so many? Does story not matter? Is it ok to only sort of tell a complete story?
The clearly developed Main Character Throughline helps alleviate the emptiness associated with fare like this in much the same way that the music did in Frozen. Unfortunately it still falls short of claiming the status of a great story. In that respect, Guardians of the Galaxy exists as a wonderful bit of entertainment–an amusement park ride that thrills and chills, but only while taking the ride. Great stories sit with one long after the lap bars have risen and long after we left the park.
An inconsequential Overall Story Throughline and somewhat ill-defined Main Character Throughline plague what would be an otherwise pleasant trip through Copenhagen. The Influence Character and Relationship stories reign supreme here, with the radiant not-so-innocent Elfy (Frederikke Dahl Hansen) commanding attention from Main Character William (Gethin Anthony)–and by proxy, from us as well.
Their sordid relationship takes up the bulk of conflict within the story, the question of how young is too young occupying their and our central concern.
The film wants to say something about the maturation process and it feels like it has. Unfortunately without a fully developed Overall Story Throughline to set the objective context for that conflict, the narrative simply becomes another experiential process–another triptych through life. Complete stories provide greater meaning and argue a position. Copenhagen fails on both accounts, offering us plenty of emotion and little in the way of logic.
Just sit with it.
Yes I know it’s a bummer we had to wait four years for a Christopher Nolan film that wasn’t about brooding superheroes, and we ended up with this melodramatic space opera. And yes I know that while we love and eagerly anticipate a new Hans Zimmer score, that this one was mixed so indelibly loud as if to be to assaultive and less enjoyable than soundtracks past. But there is a tangible reason why we couldn’t get into the film and an explanation for why it scored a meager 74% on Rotten Tomatoes.
Look past the underdeveloped Influence Character Throughline and the practically non-existent Relationship Story Throughline. Look beyond surrogate Influence Character Brand’s (Anne Hathaway’s) seemingly out-of-nowhere diatribe about the “power of love.” And avert your eyes from the rather large, but practically unspoken about, elephant in the room (Why not? Everyone else did!): these “beings” from beyond that construct wormholes and 5th dimension tesseracts for us to play in.
The real reason we found it difficult to connect to the film? Main Character Cooper solved problems holistically.
Generally speaking male audience members find it close to impossible to empathize with holistic problem-solvers. They don’t get people who don’t think like they do. They much prefer characters like Dr. Eleanor Arroway (Jodie Foster) from Contact–even if she was a woman–because she solves problems in s straight-forward way. Unless they are presented a clearly definable step-by-step progression from one conclusion to the next, linear thinkers can’t follow the kind of leaps of logic (what they call intuition) that a holistic problem solver makes.
Cooper (Matthew McConaughey) sees the big picture. School authorities suspend his daughter because Cooper can’t stay silent on the connections he sees. He repurposes Air Force drones to drive his combines and he measures all options for the human race at once, rather than focusing almost pigheaded on Plan B like his fellow astronauts. Linear thinkers get Mann (Matt Damon) and Brand and Plan B. They don’t understand someone open to connections and the relationships between things.
Whether it be gravity or love, powerful forces operate within the narrative universe of Interstellar. It takes someone comfortable with the weight of “mass” and the dynamics between things to recognize and come to terms with both of these forces. Cooper fit that role perfectly. Unfortunately for many critics and fans of Christoher Nolan films (both groups predominantly comprised of linear “male” thinkers), a character operating on this level presents a significant challenge towards emotional investment.
So before you write off this film entirely, take the time to recognize time. The limits your linear-based mind impose on this 4th dimension skew your appreciation of the universe and tarnish the argument presented by this narrative.
Time, after all, is not fixed. It’s relative.
Complex story theory without the complications–is it even possible? With vocabulary rivaling even the most obscure foreign language dictionary, the Dramatica theory of story scares off many candidates. The key lies in understanding the importance of assessing the proper context.
When it comes to incorporating Dramatica into their workflow, many writers trip themselves up when it comes to the terminology. Forewarnings and Goals ring familiar, but terms like Prerequisites and Preconditions send many running for the hills. Even when it comes to the basic building blocks of a throughline–Domain, Concern, Issue and Problem–writers overcomplicate their illustration by failing to see the terms for what they are: different lenses on the same thing.
Why Throughlines Exist
Every complete story presents an audience four Throughlines. Distinctly different, yet subtly similar in some respects, these story lines encapsulate the conflict at the heart of the story. The Main Character Throughline grants us an intimate personal look. The Influence Character Throughline presents an intimate view as well but from a slight distance. The Relationship Story Throughline clues us in on the conflict between these two characters. Finally, the Overall Story Throughline covers the dissonance between all the characters (Main and Influence included).
When granted all these throughlines the audience gains insight into a particular problem without the bias that comes from only taking a singular point-of-view. It may seem that the Main Character of a story makes all the wrong decisions and takes all the wrong actions from a distant point-of-view, but dive in and walk a mile in his or her shoes (by exploring their personal throughline) and you may come away with a different understanding. The Throughlines exist to give the receiver of a story greater perspective.
Every Level a Problem
Understanding the importance of these disparate points-of-view and their function as a perspective on the same conflict makes it easier to appreciate the somewhat complex terminology found in each. The Domain, Concern, Issue, and Problem of a throughline act as different size lenses for the conflict at hand. What does this mean? It means you could substitute the word “problem” for Domain, Concern and Issue and still come out alright.
The Domain showcases the grandest view of the problem. Is it internal or external? Is it static or a process? That’s it. The combined answer to those two questions gives us the widest scope from which to view the problem. Static external problems find themselves in the Situation Domain. Static internal problems operate within the Fixed Attitude Domain. External processes? Those problems lie in the Actitivity Domain while internal processes find a home in the Way of Thinking or Manipulation Domain. Regardless of their location, the Throughline’s Domain still simply reflects the problem, just in a broader general sense.
Take one step down the chart and you’ll find the lens ratchet up a few stops. Moving from generality to a more specific view, the Concern isolates what Type of problem we are looking at. We still observe the same thing, only now we refine our focus. Those fixed external problems–do they have to do more with the Past, the Present, the Future or How Things are Changing? When looking at those external processes that cause problems do we see Doing, Obtaining, Learning or a Understanding to be a more detailed explanation of what is going on?
Note how the four Types fit nicely into the Domain above them. This happens throughout the entire Dramatica Table of Story Elements: the set of four items below describe the item above. Memories, Impulsive Responses, Innermost Desires and Contemplations depict Fixed Attitudes. Developing a Plan, Playing a Role, Changing One’s Nature and Conceiving an Idea represent a dysfunctional Way of Thinking.
The next level down increases our magnification ever more, focusing our attention on the Issues at hand. This level reflects the thematic point of study for the Throughline. Harmonizing this Issue with its dynamically opposed (diagonal) Counterpoint provides an Author the tools necessary to measure the relative value of compensations for the central problem. Guess what? Despite all that heady theoretical thematic mumbo-jumbo, the Issue still describes a problem. Sure, it may rest two steps away from looking at things in a general sense, but it still sheds light by describing the problem.
Finally at the bottom, we reach the actual Problem. Or have we? It may be labeled “Problem”, but is it still the Problem? Remember that each Throughline acts as a lens and as such, distorts the original image. We can never really see the original Problem–the inequity at the center of it all–because one can’t describe it.
If they could, there would be no need for stories.
The Problem at the bottom of a Throughline reports that Throughline’s version of the actual original problem. Granted, the level of detail at this level elevates its accuracy of depiction far beyond that of simply describing the Domain, yet it still merely represents the greatest magnification of the same thing.
Instead of beating your head against the wall trying to figure out what the difference is between a Domain or a Concern or an Issue, consider this: they’re all the same thing. If it makes it easier label them Big, Medium and Small (or if you want to be technically accurate, label them Biggest, Big, Medium and Small). By understanding what they represent one can more easily integrate how they function within a story.
Dramatica is a giant problem machine. Seeing every level as simply varying degrees of magnification of conflict renders the apparatus more approachable and grants Authors the opportunity to really get to the heart of their stories.
Some people can’t resist telling you about their favorite movie. Whether their favorite sci-fi flick seen in adolescence or one of AFI’s top 100, film buffs love to share scenes. Problems set in the moment they bring up said love affair in a story meeting. Does the beloved scene or group of scenes actually apply to the story point being discussed? Or is it simply an unfortunate instance of fancy taking control?
Regardless of what you may have heard online or read in books multiple stories exist. There is no one Hero’s Journey to rule them all. They might share a commonality of presentation but the substance–the real true meaning–behind every single book, novel or play claims a unique identifying code. Like the building blocks of DNA that–while small in number–combine to create thousands upon thousands of different people, the structural aspects of story combine to create a novel experience.
Occasionally a story might share the same code. West Side Story is simply Romeo & Juliet. Avatar is Pocahontas. Collateral is Finding Nemo.1 But for the most part, the stories we share differ enough as to be detrimental, rather than helpful.
Bringing them up as examples for breaking a story only compounds the problems.
Work This Story, Not That One
Writers often refer to other movies in order to support their potential fix for a certain story problem. It’s like in Usual Suspects when you started to see that night from Verbal’s point-of-view… Or Remember that scene in Goodfellas when Karen flushed the drugs down the toilet? It’s like that. If it worked for them, why wouldn’t it work for us?
Because we might be telling a different story.
Problems occur when the example called to task bears no resemblance with the structural issues present in the narrative being worked on. Sure, you can reference that “killer Steadicam shot” in Goodfellas or “that gun battle on the streets of L.A. in Heat without harm, but only because those are instances of storytelling, not storyforming. Storytelling operates independently of the thematic issues within a story. It’s the icing on the cake, the seasoning added later and parceled out at the Author’s behest. Writers can ape presentation with little to no effect upon the meaning; they can’t mimic substance without risking a confounding of purpose.
The storyform of a work of narrative carries the meaning of a story. It is the message and the purpose beneath the various levels of character, plot, theme and genre. It makes possible the transmission of bias. The story form is Author’s intent. If the film referenced endeavors to delivers a message dissimilar to the one at hand, then the reference can only manage to disrupt and garble the final communication.
Different Stories That Seem the Same
One sees this line of thinking often when confronted with the dual miscues of the Hero’s Journey and the Save the Cat! franchise. Refusing to dive any further beyond the surface, these digestible accounts of story conflate purpose with cultural trend. Do many cultures across the globe celebrate and pass on a similar legend? Yes. Do most films follow a predictable path as they lay out their individual sequences? Certainly. Does correlation confirm causation? Absolutely not.
Many consider Star Wars and The Matrix the same story. They see Luke Skywalker and Mr. Anderson as cut from the same cloth. While The Difference Between Neo and Luke Skywalker illuminates in greater detail why, understand that the elements of story that drive and motivate Luke and Neo rest in different dramatic camps.
Luke is motivated to test what he can and cannot do and it gets him into trouble. Neo is driven to disbelieve himself and it gets him into trouble as well. Luke needs to trust, Neo needs to believe. Two separate thematic messages. Similar? Very. But the solutions and moments required to satisfy one cannot be transposed to the other. Trust cannot fix disbelief. Faith cannot heal a testing nature.
Calling to mind Luke when writing Neo would only generate inappropriate solutions. Bringing up Back to the Future–a story all about finding and acquiring–when writing a story about misunderstandings only provides more rabbit holes to fall into. This is how broken stories remain broken stories.
Write Your Story
Instead of recalling scenes similar to those on which you’re working, reference your own imagination and set scenes and characters to the meaning you are trying to provide. Understand the conflict your story rides upon and illustrate those scenes. If your character keeps screwing up because he doesn’t believe in himself, don’t start writing scenes where he tests his mettle like Luke Skywalker simply because you saw the movie 110 times when you were a kid. You’re not writing Star Wars, you’re writing your story.
This is where Dramatica proves to be crucial during the creativity process: by maintaining the integrity of the narrative developed in other scenes, Dramatica focuses creativity in the right direction. Write the story at hand, not the story you love from your childhood. Do this and your story sessions will prove efficient, effective and most importantly–fruitful.
What we know simply marks the beginning. While comprehensive and enlightening, our understanding of story today will seem simple and elementary ten twenty years from now. Our responsibility as writers lies in excavating the truth beneath our superficial grasp on reality and applying that to the characters we bring to life.
The Relationship Throughline of a story consists of two unique perspectives. Typically we describe these two points of view, held by the Main Character and Influence Character, as coming into conflict over the best way to solve the story’s central problem. They argue over the appropriate way until finally one gives over to the other.
The reality of this coupling speaks of so much more.
Some relationships grow. Others dissolve. The presence of two perspectives naturally encourages comparisons of unity or sameness, while at the same time fostering division and differences.
The Dramatica theory of story circa 2014 touches lightly on this fascinating aspect of narrative. Assuming the bias towards Overall Story Throughline and Main Character Throughline, the model tends to sketch rather than enscribe the various forces at work within this more Subjective view.1 When delving into this area of a story, one senses the need for more to work with, more to explain and illuminate the intricacies of intimate engagement.
Same or Different
Bearing witness to the oft-used line of “You and I are Both Alike”, one sees how the notion of “Two Sides of the Same Coin” work within narrative. One side feels they are the same, the other sees only difference. This happens because in one context the two competing perspectives exhibit similar properties, in another they differ.
Aligned diagonally across from each other when assigned their prospective domains, these Throughlines both exist as either states or processes. If Situation and Fixed Attitude, then they share a static (state) commonality of conflict. “You and I are both alike, we’re both stuck,” would describe the perspective that sees these similarities. If Activity and Way of Thinking then they share a procedural (process) commonality of conflict. “You and I are both alike, we just can’t stop ourselves, can we?”
The other context sees these Domains in terms of external or internal. Situation and Activity tell of external conflict. Fixed Attitude and Way of Thinking describe internal struggles. If set in Situation and Fixed Attitude one character might say “we are both alike, we’re stuck” whereas the other would retort, “We’re nothing alike. I know where I stand (external), you don’t even know yourself (internal)”.
When caught up within the turmoil of a relationship, one character will see the forces driving them towards a shared sameness while the other will only see apparent differences. Neither claims accuracy: they’re both right, and they’re both wrong. The direction of their relationship determines how close to unity they ultimately will reach.
Growing or Dissolving
At the heart of every Relationship sits a motivating source of inequity. Dramatica refers to this disparity as the Relationship Story Problem. Whether a lack of faith or trust, an inability to accept or a longing for something more, this Problem motivates the Relationship forward.
Problems naturally call for Solutions. You can’t have one side of the equation without the other, you can’t have inequity without equity. The “problem” with the term Solution lies in the assumption that this resolution brings the two characters together. Naturally one would assume that if there was a problem, then the solution must heal their differences.
But what about relationships on the decline?
Relationships rely on tidal forces. Ebbs and flows. Directions and tides. When situated on the path for dissolution, a relationship turns to the Solution to end it all, once and for good. Whether together or not, the resolution of the inequity in their lives ends the conflict between them. Contrast this with the Solution for a Relationship on the rise. Here resolution brings two hearts together, ending conflict by bringing two together.
Neither approach claims superiority over the other. The responsibility for determining the direction of the Relationship and the proper application of the Solution lies within the writer. They must appreciate this reality of narrative for themselves and for their story.
In Ernest Lehman’s Sweet Smell of Success (1957) Main Character Sidney Falco (Tony Curtis) joins fellow Hunsecker pawn Susan Hunsecker (Susan Harrison) in a somber display of a relationship in decay. Tasked with ruining Susan’s relationship with Steve Dallas (Martin Milner), Sidney uses their friendship to slither in close enough to gather the information he needs. Whether great friends or simple acquantences prior to the story’s start, the two slowly move apart. The banter between them, centering around inferences of the other’s weakness in the presence of J.J. (Induction), drives their relationship towards its inevitable end. Once Susan concludes her brother’s involvement and Sidney’s part in it (Deduction), the friendship dies. Having learned how to play the game herself, Susan moves past Sidney and moves on.2
Contrast this with the growing relationship between Christian (Ewan McGregor) and Satine (Nicole Kidman) in Baz Luhrman’s Moulin Rouge!. Driven to torment by Satine’s apparent ease with which she gives into lustful desires (Temptation), Christian begs, argues, and ultimately insults his love on the public stage for all to see. Only by mutually refusing to take the easy way out and forgoing their own egos (Conscience) do they finally find a place where they can come together. While death tempers this synthesis, resolution completes the Relationship’s positive development.
A Greater Truth to our Work
The Relationship Throughline whispers something more than simply the presence of two alternate perspectives. The growth and development of this kinship in conflict calls for an appraisal of its direction and a nod to their similarities and differences. The Dramatica theory of story represents a watershed moment in the history of our understanding of narrative. However what we know now and appreciate as reality only scratches the surface of effective and lasting storytelling. Delving into the forces at work opens our minds and encourages greater breadth to our own writing.
Some cry contrivance. Others lament convention. And even more bemoan the influence of the ideologue. Writers will do anything, it seems, to avoid understanding what it is they are really doing.
As my story consultancy grows, I begin to witness patterns in behavior. Writers act like other writers. They safeguard themselves from the pain of unraveling what they know about story by hiding behind Aristotle, claims of artistic integrity, or the stifling weight of an outline. Their most consistent mistake rests in the assumption that the main plot of a story (or “A” story line) is simply the framework that all the really important stuff hangs from; that character and relationships reign supreme.
It’s all important stuff.
True, some writers emphasize character over the machinations of the story world at large, but in the end both still need to be present in order for the Audience to make sense of what has happened.
The Interlocking of Character and Plot
Character cannot claim prominence over plot as both exist simultaneously within a piece of narrative, regardless of Author’s intent. Character represents a subjective context on the matters at hand, while plot portrays an objective context. One can’t simply cast the other unimportant because they find it unnecessary any more than they can disavow general relativity because stars are pretty. A subjective context presupposes an objective one.
The Dramatica theory of story exposes the difference between the objective view and subjective with its concept of the four throughlines. The Main Character Throughline and the Relationship Story Throughline manage the subjective view of the narrative while the Overall Story Throughline and the Influence Character Throughline handle the objective. Writers who write from the heart often leave out these last two. They may pay lip service to an Overall Story Throughline by casting the Main Character into the role of Protagonist and claiming the events “his” story, but by doing so fail to properly explore this throughline by centering on one character’s point-of-view.1
That’s not objective.
Objective sees Goals and Consequences. It sees Protagonist and Antagonists and Limits and Plot Points.2 Requirements, Forewarnings, Costs and Dividends. Success or Failure determine its Outcome and each and every character holds itself at arm-length, described only by its function within this view.
Many writers consider this larger perspective to be “unnecessary” or just the “MacGuffin” or mechanical” or “too limiting” to their work. Writing this perspective offers little in terms of emotional expressionism. The fun part of writing–the reason many take to pen in the first place–lies in jumping into the character’s heads, becoming them, feeling what they’re feeling and working towards communicating the emotions they feel inside. Writers such as these wish to express their fanciful associations to the text.
That’s the fun stuff.
Objective, overall–these are not the words of a writer who wears his heart on his sleeve or one who wears his heart on the page. But they are the words of a writer who enjoys mastery over his or her own text.
An Objective Look at Things
Conflict arises as a result of inequity. Everything before the story = equity. Everything after the story starts = inequity. The first “event” upsets the equity of things and compels one or another to bring about resolution.3 If that person is successful then the story has resolution and equity returns. If that person fails, then the story ends with inequity.
That person is the Protagonist of the story.
The concept of the Protagonist exists as a shorthand term to describe the character pushing for this resolution. The Antagonist operates as a shorthand term for character(s) preventing this resolution. One works for the Goal and successful resolution. One works against the Goal and would prefer the Consequences instead. Stories without these two forces lack narrative drive.
The Slice of Life Cop-Out
Stories that fail to provide these two alternative views cannot claim to be stories. Whether a slice-of-life tone poem (The Tree of Life) or a simple tale designed to satiate the senses (any Transformers movie), narrative that offers one offers offers only a part. From the perspective of an artist living present within the spirit with which gives him or her rise, this approach fulfills. Understand, though, that Audiences desire more and may not be as forgiving or appreciative of only one-half of the story. They expect and deserve a complete story.
Every audience member brings with them a mind to interpret and interpolate the narrative in question. Every mind operates under the same biological and biochemical process. Though our individual capabilities might fluctuate, our mechanism of problem-solving functions the same. Conflict resolution requires context and an appreciation of the difference between subjective and objective. If a story only provides one side of the story, the mind rebels, walks out muttering something about “story holes” or “false characters” or simply “a bad story.” Audiences expect some greater context to appreciate the relationships between the characters.
The Great Models of Narrative
All great narratives work this way. The external conflict generated by the inequity of the story reflects itself in the juxtaposition between the smaller inter-personal relationship between two characters and the larger objectified relationships between all the characters.
In Pride and Prejudice you have Elizabeth and Darcy and their romantic relationship set against the social challenges of 19th century England’s upper class values tow marriage and choice. One can see the problems of the Wickhams, the Collins, the Bingleys, and, of course, the Bennets more than simply backdrop for romance. Their actions compliment and inform the conflict between the choices and actions taken by the two beginning a new love. Where would Elizabeth’s struggle with first impressions and temptation be were it not for her youngest sister giving in to the same?
Comparable conflicts lie within Romeo & Juliet. The interpersonal relationship between the two takes center stage, but Shakespeare also manages to weave in the war between the Capulets and the Montagues. Misplaced expectations and a rush to resolve intolerable circumstances describe the personal as well as the extra-personal. Friar Lawrence, Tybalt, Lord Capulet and Mercutio need be present for the relationship between the star-crossed lovers to carry with it some greater meaning.
And then finally we have the greatest novel of the 20th century–To Kill a Mockingbird. Here one can see the prejudice and racism that comes with the Southern murder trial of a black man reflected in the interpersonal prejudice between a young girl and the boogeyman across the street. The genius of that novel lies in the positioning of these two views. One sees Atticus the Protagonist trying to resolve the inequity perpetuated by Antagonist Bob Ewell and others: the false accusation of rape against Tom Robinson. But one also gets to experience racism and prejudice from the inside by taking the journey with Scout and her shedding of preconceptions in regards to Boo Radley.
Audiences need both the subjective and the objective to emotionally understand and ultimately make sense of the conflict presented to them.
The objective view of a story sounds mechanical and boring and formulaic and prescriptive. It is. And it is so because it is, in fact, OBJECTIVE. This view is mechanical and boring and prescriptive.4 The writer must assume an objective view of conflict resolution and ask Who are the players? What are they motivated by? How does it all play out in the end?
Key Questions to Ask When Writing this Perspective
- When does the story actually start? When does inequity upset the balance of things?
- What sort of goal would resolve this inequity and bring everything back into balance?
- Who works towards this resolution? Who works against it?
- How does the conflict resolve itself?
Those familiar with Dramatica will know the exact answer to each and every one of these questions. The first finds itself in the Story Driver. The second in the Story Goal. The third in the Archetypal Characters known as the Protagonist and Antagonist and finally the last in the Story Outcome.
Those who don’t only have themselves to blame for a story that lacks direction or fails to capture and engage the minds of their Audience.
The Search for Meaning in the Meaninglessness
Great narrative grants us both a subjective experience and an objective experience simultaneously. Stories give us something we can’t find in real life. One can’t be simultaneously inside their own head while also hovering high above watching the actions unfold. The juxtaposition between these two views provides the meaning of the experience–a synthesis that exists between the words and between the individual frames of film. Real life, unfortunately, has no meaning. Until we create some objective context from which to appreciate it (religion, nationalism, or any -ism for that matter), everything means nothing.
Stories offer more.
A writer makes his or her story fuller by adding this all-important layer of the objective view. Fear not heart-driven writer, for undertaking this approach does not take away from the very important relationship story. Stories require both character AND plot. Audiences need that greater context that includes the two principal characters AND the rest of the cast in order to make sense of what it is they feel. Writers want their characters and the relationship between them to mean something; providing an objective view and a greater understanding of when things happen and how they resolve grants an Audience an answer as to why they should experience the story.
The easy road to success. Everyone wants it. Relatively few admit it. The hypocrisy of the skeptic reveals itself the moment the agent of doubt calls for proof.
To be skeptical is to take the easy way out and the first line of defense for an insecure mind. The Dramatica theory of story too confusing? Too frustrating trying to force your broken story into a comprehensive model of narrative? Then blame your lack of comprehension on “pseudo academic language” and marketing schemes. Heaven forbid you admit your own deficiency and do something to try and fix it.
Simpler to take the easy road yourself.
The skeptic hides behind its call for verification as a means of avoiding the uncomfortable task of growing. Want to take the real easy road? Ask another to prove themselves.
The Skeptic’s Call to Task
From time to time a frustrated writer, fed up with the psychological struggle that is the comprehension of complex theories of narrative, takes time off to lambast and denigrate the work being done with Dramatica. This latest diatribe expresses the vexation one feels working through Dramatica’s Query System:
Now with a Ph.D in Shakespeare I don’t think I’m that thick, but I find the whole process [of working with Dramatica] deeply de-motivating, confusing and counter-productive. The software forces me to follow very strictly delimited paths, with the end goal of producing a treatment from which the actual piece of fiction can be created. My problem is that by this point I’ve lost all interest in the story and characters, and most of the will to live.
Well that’ s not good. But it is a common response from writers new to the theory. One must liken the process of working with Dramatica as coming to terms with an objective perspective on one’s own process of rewriting. These paths the skeptic refers to only become delimited as a consequence of narrative choices made earlier in the process. No different than reading a draft and determining which scenes to keep and what lines of dialogue must go. The Author makes choices and delimits future options down the road. Dramatica merely provides a framework for making those decisions.
In the end, it’s the same process writers have been using for hundreds upon thousands of years. Write, analyze, rewrite, analyze, rewrite, analyze, write and so on and so on. Only now writers have the opportunity to be objective about their their own work.
A Process of Developing One’s Sense of Narrative
One can approach Dramatica holistically, eschew the linear story guide and the “boxes” of restriction, and find consistent success but they need to toss aside preconceivied notions of what a software application provides to them. This is not EasyCalc or GarageBand. You won’t end up with a pretty graph to frame or a finished song to impress your friends.
Dramatica is a theory of story. It sees a piece of narrative as an analogy to a single human mind trying to solve a problem. As such it doesn’t tell one what to write but rather helps solidify a coherent line of thinking before putting words to paper. Dramatica restructures one’s concept of story, removes it from the ethereal world of make-believe, muse and intent and concretizes the drive to connect with an Audience. Why waste time stumbling in and out of drafts, searching for artificats of cognition when an understanding of the end of the road can be arrived at midstream?
Working with Dramatica, filling in those blanks and challenging one’s own preconceptions of narrative develops the Author’s mind and focuses their efforts towards something palatable and illuminative. You may not end up with a step-by-step outline to plug into Scrivener but you will understand the various expressions of conflict, the nature of backstory and the justifications characters encounter as a result. In short you are learning as you struggle. More importantly, and as a consequence of this education, you will develop your sense of story to the point where you can confidently and accurately identify areas of concern for those you write for.
Good in the Room
“Good in the Room” refers to a Hollywood professional’s ability to inspire confidence. Whether facing the studio executive, the head of marketing, or the fellow executive producer a writer intent on “selling” their story must have an unbelievable knowledge of narrative itself. Studio executives want the assurance that they won’t have to hold the writer’s hand throughout the development process. Executives shouldn’t have to give notes or figure out why a character would be motivated to act a certain way or what to do about a slow and plodding plot. That’s the writer’s job!!
An understanding of Dramatica provides Authors the knowledge needed to give “the money” exactly what they’re looking for. They want a complete story. They want something figured out. They want to be told a story. They don’t want to have to write one.
As someone proficient in Dramatica, I’ve found it easy to quickly identify areas of concern within a narrative and provide ready solutions to quickly resolve it. Many look back with faces scrunched and dumbfounded at a perspective of story presented several steps removed. Where did that come from? crosses their minds, soon followed by But something about it feels right. They don’t know where it originated, but they know what they like. They like stories that work.
And they like that they have one less thing to worry about.
Skeptics love to rally against Dramatica’s language:
This is one of the biggest problems with Dramatica Pro, it has it’s own terminology, or uses concepts in a way that makes it extremely hard to grasp what the program is asking for, even with copious explanatory notes.
And this comment from another:
Any sane person can see that the terminology in the software is so vague and twisted that it could mean anything.
The assertion that Dramatica’s language is anything closely related to vague speaks volumes of the comprehension skills of the accuser. In order to define a theory that is 100% accurate regardless of medium (film, novel, play, short story), certain accepted terms needed to be redefined. Protagonist and Main Character needed to be separated, the concept of “change” within a character more accurately defined and paired with Growth. In addition there are areas of the current Dramatica model that are difficult to describe with the English language–the difference between Being and Becoming a prime example.1
While this approach might seem vague and pseudo-scientific to the simpleton, the gain in accuracy is a welcome addition to those who work in story day in and day out.
Gregory, an advocate of Dramatica’s approach had this to add:
All the sterilizing is not Dramatica’s fault, yet this review wants to make this Dramatica’s fault, as if it is ruining story telling. This is no more true then the theory of relativity ruining the experience of watching a moonrise. If you want to understand how it works it is going to be a totally different experience. It is up to the one who makes that choice to set that aside so they can enjoy the magic of the result once again. It is almost a cliche to say that ‘I wanted to learn how something worked, to only find after it had lost it’s magic.’ But if you want to be able to do it, and do it well, you have to understand how it works. Dramatica helps you understand how it works and makes sure that those choices make sense. You can of course break those rules but most often for most stories those rules will make it a better story not a worse story. [emphasis added]
Only Good for Analysis
Another favorite of the skeptic dwells in the attempt to stifle Dramatica’s use as a creative tool:
If you look at the website you can see lots of examples of the method being applied retrospectively to films, which makes me think that it has more appeal as a rather odd method of formalist critique than as a writer’s tool.
Thrice now I have personally witnessed the silence and lack of substantial notes after pitching stories crafted with Dramatica. As touched upon in the previous article Structure is not What Happens When these stories left no room for critique by design. Once may have been coincidence. Repeated exposure to this effect leads one further away from Providence and closer to fervent belief.
Yes, the theory helps you analyze what you’re written, but Dramatica goes one step further and tells you information about your story that you never told it..that’s beyond groundbreaking. Now you have an objective writing partner helping you with the actual process of rewriting pointing out exactly how to fill those “holes” in your argument.2 There really is nothing else like it. Whether you’re looking back and analyzing or looking forward and creating, Dramatica has you covered.
some of [Dramatica’s questions] would baffle Aristotle: “Which personal issue affects the hero: Chaos, Knowledge, Order or Thought?”
I agree Aristotle would have been baffled by Dramatica. But he would have been equally baffled by Copernicus. The guy who came up with the ground-breaking concept that stories have a “beginning, middle and end” would stare slack-jawed at the idea of a Main Character Unique Ability or an Overall Story Benchmark. Best not to equate one’s line of thinking with that of someone ill-informed on the reality of the Universe.
Skeptics don’t know because it is simply the easier way to lead one’s life. Ignorance is bliss and all that. Rewiring takes time, patience and fortitude. Many don’t have these qualities. One wonders what the skeptics will say in the wake of Dramatica success stories now at their genesis. Will they take the time to really understand or will they continue to attack superficial concerns?
It took thousands of years for people to realize that the Sun was the center of the Solar System. Hopefully we won’t have to wait as long for our own collective understanding of story to evolve.
Separating out structure from writing leads to disaster. Failure to understand that the two work in concert to provide a message of intent to the audience fractures productions and removes responsibility of content from the creators. Story is structure.
One of the most frustrating experiences for someone proficient in the Dramatica theory of story dwells in listening to professional writers speak with inaccuracy towards structure. They might refer to the “MacGuffin.” Or they might claim that one could remove all of structure and “still have a story.” Or worse: they could attempt to marginalize the efforts of a consultant who just the day before had helped them propel an idea into production. Regardless, the ego-driven machinations of voices less than secure with their own contributions perhaps are best left for the therapist’s couch.
Unless, of course, those voices persist in denigrating the work of story consultants.
Rather Be Seen Than Heard
Professional screenwriters John August and Craig Mazin love to beat up on the “story guru.” Painting these story consultants as snake-oil salesman intent on robbing the innocent of what few dollars they have left, both August and Mazin assure their authority by tearing down the work of others.1
The latest Scriptnotes Podcast, Making Things Better By Making Things Worse, offers yet another opportunity to defend the work of the consultant and to clarify the Dramatica approach to structure. One gets the sense that the two hosts–both staunchly critical of script consultants and screenwriting books in the past–would actually appreciate the perspective of narrative provided by Dramatica, if only they would take the time to understand the concepts.
No page numbers. No step-by-step guarantee of success. And no formula driven cookie-cutter order of sequences to follow. Trying to say something with that character? Then you’re going to need this other character to challenge her and provide the necessary counterpoint to your thematic argument.2 Need the story to end a certain way? Then you’ll need to address some of these particular issues earlier rather than later.3 Dramatica completes the Author’s message by filling in the blind spots inherent within the intention for writing. The purpose is never to write a Dramatica story. Rather, the purpose is to write the Author’s story, with Dramatica filling in the blanks where necessary.
Dramatica is not easy. The theory– and the application that supports it–does not make screenwriting or any other form of writing less complex. If anything, it requires more complexity from Authors in the presentation of their stories. The purpose of the Dramatica theory of story is not to make it easier to write a movie in 21 days or to provide an easy set of 15 beats for writers to follow. Dramatica’s sole function is to provide Authors the tools necessary to argue their points effectively and succintly.
When to Reveal and Structure
In their first of their many inaccuracies with regards to structure John August, the screenwriter behind Go and Frankenweenie, has this to say about writing:
Structure is really about when things happen and when you reveal certain information. And I get frustrated by screenwriting textbooks because they always talk about structure as when in the sense of like on this page you’re supposed to do this, and on this page you’re supposed to do this, and hitting these page counts, when really it’s so much more subtle than that.
Most of the books that August refer to identify those page numbers as 30, 60, 90 (or somewhere nearby). One could be cynical and assume that the gurus Mazin and August refer to seek easy-to-follow numbers in order to compensate for some deficiency of talent. Or one could see how the process of dividing a typical 120-page screenplay into four even movements naturally leads to those numbers. Either way the fact remains the same: every complete story consists of four Acts.
The Dramatica theory of story makes no reference to page numbers. It does, however, provide an explanation as to why Acts exist, why there seem to be four of them in every complete narrative, and helps shed light on the order of the thematic material for each of these major movements.
The theory also provides a clear distinction between when things happen within a story and when they reveal themselves to the Audience.
It’s when are you giving a piece of information to the audience so that they have — it’s how are you dolling out the information to the audience to get the best sense of what your story is.
Here August blends storyWEAVING with storyFORMING. Dramatica’s storyform captures the complex process of problem-solving and distills it down to an arrangement of story points.4 This process, represented by the Signposts beneath each throughline, relies on the order of these story points to convey its conclusion. How that information is “doled out” to the Audience rests entirely in the talent and taste of the Author. The storyform forms during the storyFORMING phase of crafting an argument:
The storyENCODING phase attaches specific instances and unique identifiers to what would otherwise be a cold and mechanical presentation. Stories with similar storyforms rely on this phase to place distance between them.
The storyWEAVING phase finds the Author deciding on what to reveal and when. Starting with the end and working backwards may instill a level of apprehension or suspense, but it has no effect on the actual structure of the story. Unravel Christopher Nolan’s Memento into its original chronological order and the storyform would remain the same. It most certainly would not have been as effective, but the meaning of the story–the argument encoded within the storyform–would have been understood to be the same.
The storyRECEPTION phase unfortunately relieves Authors of any remaining control over their story and thus, sits outside the purvey of this article. Suffice to say any number of intrusions, distractions or disruptions can contribute to the failed intent of a work. The Author can only write and hope that what they want to say will be heard and understood in the manner it was presented.
A Call for Better Storytelling
Presumably August and Mazin produce their podcast to inspire and enlighten those legions of writers who dream of seeing their work on-screen. Why then would they continue to disseminate disinformation in regards to structure? In a pattern that seems to repeat itself without fail, I have now been a part of three separate productions that plead no contest to the story provided to them. Not one single note. The reason for this rests in the fact that I was able to help the individual writers5 involved craft what Dramatica refers to as a “complete story. ” By focusing the talent and passion towards a larger purpose, we left studio executives elated and thankful. This response owes much of its success towards the structure and understanding of narrative provided by Dramatica.
In the end we all want a memorable and heart-warming story. A well-structured narrative, informed by the Dramatica theory of story, captures hearts and minds–leaving those on the receiving end wanting even more.
Structure is not what happens when. Structure is why it all happens in the first place.
Sometimes you feel like you’ve seen this movie before. The faces may have changed. Or they may be rocketing through space instead of riding horses through Monument Valley. Still, something about the overall feeling of the experience screams familiarity.
Ever watch Finding Nemo and start hallucinating that Marlin is the Jamie Foxx character from Collateral and Nemo is Tom Cruise? No? What about Back to the Future? Ever notice how Shrek is Marty and Fiona is Doc? Still no? You can’t see how Shrek and Marty both have to fight against others’ preconceptions of them and how Doc and Fiona stop running away and start pursuing a course of resolution in the end?
Let’s start with some simpler, more obvious examples of familiar storytelling. Everyone knows West Side Story as a remake of Romeo and Juliet. Warring families and star-crossed lovers permeate both narratives with each finding resolution in the unravelling of it’s lead character. Tony and Romeo both end their lives lost and in despair.
Many also understand Bridget Jones’ Diary as a modern re-telling of Pride and Prejudice The former wastes little time pretending to be anything other than a reinterpretation of the Jane Austen Classic. The evidence? Both tell a story where temptation drives the efforts of characters to better their station in life. If that weren’t enough Helen Fielding, the novelist behind Bridget Jones, named her romantic lead Darcy, even going so far as to describe him like Colin Firth (who portrayed Austen’s Darcy in the 1996 BBC version).
Adaptations and remakes naturally rest on common thematic ground. They’re telling the same story after all. But what about those stories that end up supported on the same foundation without even meaning to do so?
The Form Behind Narrative
The Dramatica storyform holds the message of a narrative. Seventy-five different, yet connected, points of story communicate the intent of an Author to the Audience. Unlike other paradigms that see narrative as different takes on the same story (usually heroic) Dramatica sees well over 32,000 separate and unique stories.
And this is only the current model. The theory of Dramatica contends that there could be 4x that number of specific storyforms beyond the current Western-biased model. They would require further research and development to identify, but theoretically they exist.
Ignoring those for the time being, Dramatica’s current ability to single out 32,000+ helps to provides us with a comprehensive and functional model of how stories work. It also grants us insight into the similarities between films, novels and plays that on the surface, seem to explore different thematic material. And occasionally–but less often than many would have you believe–Dramatica identifies narratives that have the same exact structural makeup, regardless of genre or intent.
Unforgiven and The Terminator
Turns out James Cameron’s 1984 sci-fi thriller and Clint Eastwoods 1992 Oscar Western share the same thematic endoskeleton. Both The Terminator and Unforgiven feature a plot of revenge to take lives (Overall Story Goal of Obtaining) and showcase a Main Character who learns that stepping up and preventing others from doing things actually solves problems (Main Character Growth of Start, Overall Story Solution of Avoid/Prevent, and an Overall Story Outcome of Success). William Munny and Sarah Connor would rather work their personal problems out internally (Main Character Approach of Be-er) which makes things difficult as the story itself requires external action to get things moving (Story Driver of Action and Story Tendency: Unwilling). And both probably wished they had stayed home as the end of their respective stories leaves gunfighter and waitress in a bad place ([Story Judgment of Bad*).
The similarities in thematic content continue. Kyle Reese and Ned Logan challenge their Main Characters to grow in similar fashion (Influence Character Throughline). Each bring up concerns of what will be–Kyle with his doomsday scenario and Ned with the financial struggles of a farmer (Influence Character Concern of *The Future) Both bring up issues of staying open to the possibilities of what could be–Kyle with his affection for Sarah and willingness to travel across space and time to be with her, and Ned with his openness towards going on the mission when he just finished saying he wasn’t like that anymore and his eagerness later to get some upstairs with one of the house ladies (Influence Character Issue of Openness). When you have a story driven by the pursuit of revenge that centers around a character who ends up completely changing how he or she solves problems, you need a character like Ned or Kyle to bring them there. No other catalyst will suffice.
Kung Fu Panda and Erin Brockovich
What possibly could the stories of an overweight Panda bear and a badly-behaved amateur lawyer have in common? More than one would have guessed. Both Kung-Fu Panda and Erin Brockovich present Main Characters defined and saddled by their outwardly appearance (Main Character Throughline of Situation). Creating problems for themselves by refusing to back down from their passion to help others, both computer-generated and real-world personalities ultimately find redemption for their actions (Main Character Problem of Help, Main Character Resolve of Steadfast, and Story a Judgment of Good). Unlike William Munny and Sarah Connor above, Erin and Po can’t wait to participate in the story’s events and jump into action as required by the story in order to get things done (Story Tendency of Willing, Main Character Approach of Do-er and Story Driver of Action).
Munny and Sarah feel like different characters than Po and Erin. The former group comes across reluctant and introverted; the latter eager and extroverted. Dramatica identifies the precise reason for this: all four stories require action for resolution, only one group feels comfortable doing so.
Defeating Tai Lung? Same as defeating PG&E. (Story Outcome of Success) Inspiring the master Shifu to prevent the monster his Dragon Warrior crusade created? Same as inspiring Ed Masry to stand up and prevent PG&E from delaying the case any further (Influence Character Resolve of Change and (Influence Character Solution of Prevent/Avoid). When you have a story where the Main Character refuses to back down from their drive to help and they end up changing the world around them for the better you’ll have a character like Shifu or Ed to personalize that modification.
Stories Like Other Stories
Out of the 300 films, novels and plays analyzed through Dramatica, a handful of doppelgängers exist:
(Thanks to Dramatica user Bob Raskoph for compiling this list)
Stories function through the same process of problem-solving. The details of the particular problem being solved and the manner in which resolution, if any, is achieved determine the Act structure of each individual story. Characteristics, costumes and scenery only alter a story at face value. The superficiality of scenery and genre does little more than flavor the deep thematic intent at the core. To witness this reality of narrative strike up a double-feature using the pairings above. Once you see past the shimmer of storyTELLING to storyFORMING you’ll never go back.
Dramatica functions like a time machine. Speeding you past months of rewrites and dead-end alleys, the theory sheds light on bad story choices while it offers up potentially better ones. Unfortunately, learning how to use it slows time down to a crawl. You need to trick your brain into thinking it’s not using Dramatica in order to get back up to speed.
In previous articles, we explored a new process of using Dramatica called The Main Character Playground. By applying a handful of random Gists to a single storyform, we broke free of our own preconceptions and learned more about the story we want to tell by completely avoiding it. The last step in those articles–Step Four–had us illustrating the random Gists with as many different genres of storytelling in an effort to find our Main Character. The process resumes in this article as we gently move back to our own work.
Step Five - Find Your Story
Spread out your various story illustrations, look them over and see if one speaks to you. Chances are this happened while you were writing them. Several times I’ve finished an illustration only to want to immediately drop everything I’m working on and start in this new story! That’s a good sign. You’ve written something that really inspires you and gets to the core of who you are. Save it for later.
Out of all these various illustrations that have the same thematic components as your original story, which one of them feels like someone you would want to spend days, weeks, maybe even months getting to know better?
Step Six - Blow the Whistle
Play time is over. Time to call your main Character home and set him to the task of illustrating your story. Having found the randomly illustrated character that speaks to you, simply replace his or her name with the name of the Main Character in your story, change a location or two and you should be good to go.
Variations on a Theme
Now there might be something more you have to adjust in order to make the illustration fit your genre just right, but try to maintain the flavor or nuance of your original storytelling. That uniqueness, that “fun” that you had illustrating those Gists? Try and keep the integrity of your words when it comes to folding them back into your story.
If you still can’t find one that rings out, try taking bits and parts from different Playgrounds and mix them together. I’ve taken the thematic “meat” as it were from one story (the Domain down to the Solution) and mixed it with the Benchmark from another and the Signposts from two other stories. Because I’ve generated so much story material to work from, an embarassment of riches awaits from which to pluck out the rarest and most exhilarating gems.
More often than not you’ll find the perfect story that only requires changing the name, maybe the gender association, and that’s it. That has usually been my experience. Other times you’ll have to do more and mix and match as I have described. The important part is maintaining that creative spark that you felt while you were doing them. Dramatica made it possible for you to forget about the structure and simply have fun writing and it will show in ways that should shock and surprise you. Just don’t lose that astonishment as you roll it over into your story and you should be quite pleased with the results.
Out of Nothing
And just like that, you’ll have your Main Character. You’ll know exactly what his or her problem is. You’ll know what issues he will be dealing with, the kinds of things he will be doing to avoid dealing with his real problems, and you’ll know how it all works out for him in the end. Along the way you’ll have a good measuring stick to determine his progress (the Benchmark) and you’ll have landmark-sized destinations for his emotional journey that you should hit along the way (the Signposts). In all you will have created a Main Character you never even knew existed the week before and one that fits perfectly into the story you have constructed so far. You’ll have a Main Character that jibes effortlessly with the kind of story you want to tell and the message you want to get across. You will have saved mountains of needless rewrites and weeks of frustration all because you wrote something that wasn’t even your story!
Inviting More Friends
Of course, now that you’ve finished the Main Character Playground, you’ll want to dive into the other Throughlines in your story and see what other new and exciting things to invent.
Before you do, take some time off. At least a day or two. The different Throughlines describe different points-of-view within the human mind and in doing so require different techniques to conceptualize. I’ve found it nearly impossible to switch to illustrating the Relationship Story or Influence Character after spending a couple days with the Main Character. You need time for your brain to reset and realign its receptors to the new perspective.
A week is ideal. Two weeks even better. After three weeks you will have completely forgotten what you did for the Main Character playground and that’s exactly where you want to be. When you maintain the entire story in your head the tendency is to blend certain items which risks losing the uniqueness. Save the combining and eventual shorthand for the writing process. Try to keep the Throughlines as distinct and individual as you can so you can get a good idea of what their respective thematics are really about.
We started with the Main Character because that is often the easiest to communicate and the Throughline most writers feel comfortable with. The other Throughlines–the Overall Story, the Influence Character and the Relationship Story Throughlines–all have their own unique spins on the Playground exercise. Understanding what these Throughlines represent makes clear the difference: different perspectives require different contexts and different contexts necessitate different interpretations.
The Influence Character Playground
When it comes to the Influence Character Throughline you’ll want to focus on their influence or impact on others. Too many times those new to Dramatica simply write that Throughline as another Main Character. The Influence Character only exists as a challenge to the Main Character’s way of doing things, so write that difference. Instead of “The unfair working conditions of Chinese immigrant workers drive Frank the railroad man to drink” as an exploration of Inequity as a Main Character Problem, think “Sam delights in treating the Chinese immigrants unfairly and makes sure the railroad men under his command watch and even participate” as an example of an Influence Character Problem of Inequity.1 One is personal, the other impersonal, and challenging.
The Relationship Story Playground
When it comes to the Relationship Throughline, save its Solution until the very end. Write the Signposts and feel where you think their relationship will end up. As of now, Dramatica supplies no indication as to whether or not the Relationship Throughline resolves, so you’ll have to rely on your instincts for that answer. If you can’t definitively choose one way or another, do both and see which one speaks to you more.
The Overall Story Playground
You may wish to skip the Playground on this one. Many Authors already have a pretty good idea of how things will work out objectively, it’s usually the subjective part of the story–the part designed to encompass emotion and point-of-view–that trips them up.
Assuming that is not the case, make sure you write the Overall Story Playground from the point-of-view of the group and use roles in place of personal pronouns and proper nouns. Ignoring names tends to make things more objective (key to this Throughline).
When faced with a Gist that reads “Stuck in Traffic,” write A group of travelers finds themselves stuck in traffic, for “Cooking,” write A group of students challenge each other to a cook-off. Always keep the Overall Story Playground focused on the group.
Unlike the Relationship Story, the Overall Story has an indicator as to how it resolves: the Story Outcome. As with the Story Judgment and the Main Character, the Story Outcome clues you in to how to end your story. In short, if the Outcome is Success then the Overall Story Solution will come into play. If Failure, then the Solution could occasionally come into play but in the end, the Overall Story Problem will win out and the inequity for the group will still exist.
When Playtime is Over
What happens when you’ve exhausted your festive resources? Take a break. Clear your mind for a week or two and then start writing. Combine the four separate stories into one. Using Armando’s excellent Instant Dramatica technique for combining all these disparate pieces, start breaking down yor story into four major movements. Domains, Concerns and first Signposts in Act One. Issues, Counterpoints and second Signposts in Act Two. Symptom and Responses and the third Signposts in Act Three and finally, Problem and Solutions and the last Signpost in Act Four.
Within those independent Acts, move the information around. Shift the dynamics to tell the story you want. This is where the art comes into it and where you’ll find rules non-existent. Truth be told, the Problem, Solution, Symptom and Response should be in very Act. Armando’s technique works for a synopsis. if you want something deeper, use it as a base outline and expand from there. The only rule? Keep the Signpost order the same and don’t move on to the next Signpost until you’ve finished addressing all the signposts for that Act.2
Fooling Yourself for Success
The classic how-to book, Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain, tasks artists with illustrating their subjects upside-down. When inverting their depicted objects, artists concentrate more on line and form rather than replicating the perfect apple or the perfect tree. Far too often writers find themselves trapped writing and rewriting the perfect tree. The Main Character Playground exercise, and its accompanying brothers and sisters in the other Throughlines, frees writers from their own self-imposed limits and grants them an opportunity at creating something truly wonderful and unique. Something uniquely them. Something no one else–computer or otherwise–can copy.
Hopefully this exercise has given you a good idea of how to take Dramatica’s somewhat complicated theoretical ideas and put them to good use. If you’re stuck and can’t figure out the right Main Character for your story, or if you simply keep writing the same relationship over and over again, the Playground technique can help energize the creative writer in you and help you discover new and exciting characters to write about.
Artists need that permission to stretch their legs and run rampant on the blacktop in order to meet new friends and find out what they’re capable of. Hear the bell ringing?
It’s time to play.
NEW WORKSHOP! Interested in learning more exercises like this one in a hands-on environment? The new Dramatica Writers Workshop begins this September 2014. Designed to help put Dramatica to work for you, this two-day workshop features the Main Character Playground as one of its exercises. Tell me more!