I've been busy building something that I know you're going to love.
Inspired by years of working with writers, directors, and producers to create the very best versions of their stories, I developed a new tool I know you're going to want to have when you write your next great story.
Earlier this week I presented the Narrative First approach to Dramatica. Over the years I found an increased level of Audience engagement when I queried a favorite film from the attendees. Opening their eyes to an enlightened understanding of why they were so drawn to the work inspires a level of comprehension not found in a straight presentation.
The head of this development company initially chose Forrest Gump. Knowing the narrative of that film to be propaganda at best1, I asked for his second favorite.
se7en was his next choice.
Disregarding the considerable leap in Genre Reception between a heartfelt character study and a dark and terrifying thriller, I jumped at the opportunity.
Donald Trump. North Korea. Hurricanes. Neoliberalism. Is there any hope of a better world? Yes, but we have to come together to tell a new, kinder story explaining who we are, and how we should live.
#storytelling trends well these days. Everyone understands that to market your business or push a political agenda you need to tell a better story. Compile your message into a functioning narrative, and you guarantee the highest amount of success.
Stories are the means by which we navigate the world. They allow us to interpret its complex and contradictory signals. We all possess a narrative instinct: an innate disposition to listen for an account of who we are and where we stand.
Stories reflect the way we think and solve problems. We don’t possess an instinct for narrative—narrative mimics our innate disposition for meaning.
Unlike hard drives or RAM, our minds suck at remembering and stand unreliable at best when it comes to reality. We perceive the world through filters built upon justifications and then store that information away as truth. This rationale then become the motivation to seek out further alternate realities, the justifications pile up, and the cycle continues.
A complete story simulates the process of building up those justifications or tearing them down. A Steadfast Main Character reflects the former while a Changed Main Character imitates the latter. William Wallace in Braveheart and Robert Angier in The Prestige build up the rationale for their behaviors. Chiron in Moonlight and Chris Washington in Get Out tear those justifications down until they arrive at a point where they can change their point-of-view.
When we encounter a complex issue and try to understand it, what we look for is not consistent and reliable facts but a consistent and comprehensible story. When we ask ourselves whether something “makes sense”, the “sense” we seek is not rationality, as scientists and philosophers perceive it, but narrative fidelity. Does what we are hearing reflect the way we expect humans and the world to behave? Does it hang together? Does it progress as stories should progress?
Narrative fidelity is a fantastic term. A better way to reframe those questions is to ask Does what we hear ring true with our mind’s problem-solving process? If the answer is no, then we will “sense” or feel a hole in the narrative. When the answer is yes, we appreciate the full intent behind the message—without static, and without interference.
Making a difference in the quality of storytelling requires a greater understanding of the mechanism by which a story progresses.
Writing and reading. Reading and writing. What better way to spend our lives than to engage in the thoughts and considerations of others?
Before I get to this week’s article and an immensely helpful tip Narrative First employs when it comes to using the Dramatica theory of story to write great stories, I want to say a thing or two about stories.
On my Kindle, I bounce back and forth between fiction and non-fiction. Fiction first thing in the morning, a brief interlude of non-fiction to get me inspired before my daily sprint of writing.
In Barking Up the Wrong Tree Mr. Barker observes a reality of narrative: Meaning comes in the form of the stories we tell ourselves about the world. Whether you seek truth in the real world or honesty and sincerity in your own fiction, our mind’s instinctual nature seeks out significance.
We can’t help but see stories everywhere we look.
Consider last week’s events in Las Vegas and our collective attempt at finding some greater purpose amidst chaos. Without a clear understanding of the Overall Story Throughline, we “fill in the blanks” with what we assume to be there—crafting propaganda where necessary to complete our story.
The narrative is not real, but our minds can’t help themselves—they were built to find meaning.
These story points form the broadcast; the storyform works as the carrier wave.
UCLA film school professor Howard Suber describes movies as “sacred dramas for a secular society.” Just like with religious parables, we act like the heroes of the stories we tell. Studies show that when we relate to characters in fictional stories, we are more likely to overcome obstacles to achieve our goals.
We relate--to functional narratives--because they form an analogy to the minds problem-solving process. A working story is a working model of the mind at work. We relate when a story's structure mimics our structure.
So what is meaning? Meaning, for the human mind, comes in the form of the stories we tell ourselves about the world. This is why so many people believe in fate or say things were “meant to be.” Having a story about the meaning of life helps us to cope with hard times. Not only do we naturally see the world this way, but frankly we can’t not tell stories. If I asked you how your day was or how you met your spouse, what would you tell me? A story. What’s your résumé? A story. You even tell stories when you sleep: dreams. And research shows you have about two thousand daydreams every day, telling yourself little stories about this or that. For nearly every area of your life, like career or relationships, you have a story you tell yourself about it. But rarely are these consciously or deliberately constructed.
Understanding the mechanism behind our instinctual method for #storytelling paves the way towards telling better stories and improving the quality of our own lives.
Watch as Executive Producer Chris Sonnenburg takes a Disney fanatic on a tour of his office during the production of the Tangled: Ever After animated television series. Wait till he opens up the shelf of his Kem Weber-designed Disney animation desk from the 1940s...
...that friend “Jim” he mentions? That’s me!
That was my desk back when I was a Disney animator. I found it in a warehouse when I was working on Pocahontas and kept it through The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Hercules, and Tarzan.
When I departed, I gifted it to Moana’s Head of Story Dave Pimentel and he gifted it to Chris when he left. Chris moved on to other things (among them, producing the opening animation for Enchanted) and when he came back to helm the Tangled television series Chris brought the desk out of storage and reclaimed it for all time.
I absolutely loved that desk—the history behind it all, not only my experience, but that of those who created beautiful works of art before me.
In 2015, Julian Hoxter, an Associate Professor of Screenwriting in the Cinema Department of San Francisco State University, published The Pleasures of Structure: Learning Screenwriting Through Case Studies.
I skipped to the good parts:
The use of story development software is controverial even within the screenwriting industry, however. Robert McKee is a critic of Dramatica: "I came in, too a look and said, 'This is ridiculous. Only someone without talent, a computer nerd, would think it was useful. They were not happy with me."
Of course. Because you didn't even take the time to consider what it was they were saying. You discounted the entire theory purely out of ignorance and panic.
For his part Syd Field rejected programs--despite subsequently being involved with a similar piece of tech for Final Draft: "It's all horrific. I don't understand a word of what they're saying."
Inflammatory superlatives based on a foundation of irrational thought.
Like the skeptics of old, Robert McKee and Syd Field want writers to stay locked in the Dark Ages of writing and narrative structure.
Heretical, perhaps. But when you think about it--progress is often confused for blasphemy.
In other words, only an Antagonist stuck in the impulsive repsonses of the Preconscious would use words like "ridiculous" and "horrific" to Prevent Progress and motivate people to Reconsider a new way of thinking.
I'm comfortable being the Protagonist on this one.
A significant portion of the certification program involves decoding and encoding a comprehensive storyform analysis of a well-regarded film, novel, play, or television series. Jon chose The Imitation Game, written by Graham Moore and directed by Morten Tyldum, and the end result is a feast for fans of elegant and functional storytelling.
If becoming a Certified Dramatica Story Expert is something you might be interested, consider enrolling in the Dramatica Mentorship Program or better yet--let's use Deliberate Storytelling to write your next story together. Both approaches guarantee to develop your sense of story to the point where you'll be able to fly through the certification process with litte to no effort.
Hope you’re enjoying the gentle slip into the Fall season...
Apparently, it’s Paterson week here at Narrative First. The podcast, the article, and the analysis all focus their attention on this latest and greatest from Jim Jarmusch.
I’m not a huge fan of his previous work, but I’m a huge fan of great storytelling and subtle and sophisticated narrative structure. Paterson is a treat because it features a Main Character with a Holistic Main Character Problem-Solving Style–something we don’t get too much of nowadays.
But even more compelling–Jarmusch presents a vision of what “conflict” looks and feels like through a holistic filter. Instead of Goal and Consequence think more Cost and Dividend and the balance between the two. In fact, the emphasis is on the shift in balances between different paths rather than a linear path of successive rungs.
It's something you have to experience for yourself before it can all start to make sense. I was pleasantly surprised by the film, and I’m sure you will enjoy it as well.
This Week’s Updates
The Throughlines of Paterson - a visual representation of the various perspectives found within the film. You’ll note I made the switch to the original terminology–long live Universe, Mind, Physics, and Psychology!!
Ryan Holiday explains why I write best when I run:
As a runner, the real race is getting up and running every single day. Life is the marathon. The same is true in writing. A lot of people sit down to write a book. Many don’t make it past that point. Plenty get something finished, but are intimidated by the maze that is publishing, promoting, selling. And of the relative few that make it through there, only some have the stamina to start the next one. To make it a career.