These story writing lessons were originally posted at the beginning of 2009 in a series of postings. The feedback quickly made it clear that my stance on story writing was different than many others’. To clarify, I now add a caveat to these lessons:
There are many ways to write a story, but something in the human psyche means that only a few formulae are actually entertaining to a broad audience. The assumption of these story writing lessons is that your intention is to write to entertain your readership. There are plenty of other reasons to write and even to write stories: To exorcise your own feelings, to practise writing, to convey a message to an audience of one. But if your intent is to entertain a wide readership, I commend the following lessons to you.
On at least two occasions I have been requested to post up story writing lessons or run workshops for story writing here on Sal’s. Not having a clue where to start and not being qualified in any sense to be advising anyone on their story writing, I instead decided to take an overview of the common feedback I’ve given in my various story reviews over the past 18 months (12 months of which is captured in Neverdead’s Bookcase). I’m not particularly interested in writing lessons on linguistic mechanics, so instead I’ve prepared three lessons on Story Framework Design. This seems to be an area where I’ve repeatedly given the same feedback over and over again to writer after writer. Now, rather than give the feedback again, I can just refer authors to these lessons and save myself the effort.
As a final challenge to those who disagree with the ideas I present in these lessons, or think that there are other ways to entertain without “following a formula” I challenge anyone to name a highly regarded story which doesn’t follow this guidance.
Lesson 1: Storylines and Timelines
Lesson 2: Decisions, decisions
Lesson 3: Character – Desire – Barrier
Lesson 1: Storylines and Timelines
Why I Hate So Many First Chapters
The aim of this story writing lesson is to demonstrate how a short consideration of the Storyline and Timeline of a story can make the difference between a dull, linear telling of events and an interesting and engaging read.
This lesson is based around my own story, Medic! I had the basic idea outline for this story bobbling around in my head for several months, and it simply consisted of a few lines into which I intended to wrap the story. I’d recommend, if you haven’t already read the story, that you read this lesson before proceeding to the final product.
The story is about a conscientious objector in some generic war who becomes dehumanised by the inhumanity of the war and that this is illustrated through the lines of dialogue he exchanges with two of his patients. In the first exchange the victim says, “Hey Medic, I don’t know your name” and the medic replies giving his name. In the final exchange, after whatever dehumanising events take place, he’s asked the same question by another wounded soldier, but instead of giving his name, he completely dehumanises himself, “Medic. Just call me Medic” or “My name is Medic.” This is all I had of this story for about 6 months or so.
Then, the time came when it felt right to write it up. At the time I was commuting to and from work on a train, so I had a little notebook in which I marked up my ideas. I replicate the contents of the notebook for this story below:
Medic – 3rd person cinematic
5 “What’s your name? I only know you as Medic.”
“Thomas”
4 Common soldier, first injury. Landmine
3 Relaxing with best mate Peter. 1 Drafted together.
Basic training
2 Conscientious objector – Approved – Could have claimed on religious grounds but didn’t
6 Firefight
7 Peter fatally wounded
Comfort -> death
Feelings / visions of anger
8 Anonymous soldier injured
“What’s your name Medic?”
“Just call me Medic.”
5 “What’s your name? I only know you as Medic.”
“Thomas”
4 Common soldier, first injury. Landmine
3 Relaxing with best mate Peter. 1 Drafted together.
Basic training
2 Conscientious objector – Approved – Could have claimed on religious grounds but didn’t
6 Firefight
7 Peter fatally wounded
Comfort -> death
Feelings / visions of anger
8 Anonymous soldier injured
“What’s your name Medic?”
“Just call me Medic.”
The notes are in the order that I wrote them and the numbers were added subsequently to wrap a timeline to the events.
So, to summarise, the story as it stands at the moment would proceed:
1 We meet the protagonist, Thomas and his best friend Peter as they are being drafted together.
2 There’s a scene in which Thomas receives his approval as a conscientious objector and preserves his principles by not lying about his religion
3 Thomas and Peter are assigned to the same unit and discuss basic training
4 Another soldier is injured by a landmine
5 Thomas introduces himself by name to the soldier
6 There’s a firefight
7 Peter gets injured
Thomas tries his best to comfort Peter, but eventually he dies
Thomas undergoes a dehumanising transformation
8 Another soldier is injured
Thomas calls himself “Medic”
At this point, there’s a straightforward chronology to the story but it starts very slowly. The first 3 scenes or story steps don’t give the reader much interest to hold onto. These are going to have to go and emerge later in the writing, if at all possible. They may even get killed off altogether.
On the next page of my notes I start fleshing out some opportunities to compress the scenes together and to do some preliminary dehumanising.
3.1 What’s training like?
Peter: dehumanising the enemy – It’s hell, I’m knackered
Thomas: inadequate – not ready. No “real” injuries, just dummies and make up
Lt Fuller – eggs on sergeant
Sgt Max – turn the pacifist – go on, try a gun
Didn’t you play at war in the school playground?
8(a)Capture an enemy soldier, wounded
Offer to patch him up
Lt – he’d slow us down
“Patch this” – bayonets the soldier
Thomas does nothing to stop him – stony faced
8(b) closing scene
Peter: dehumanising the enemy – It’s hell, I’m knackered
Thomas: inadequate – not ready. No “real” injuries, just dummies and make up
Lt Fuller – eggs on sergeant
Sgt Max – turn the pacifist – go on, try a gun
Didn’t you play at war in the school playground?
8(a)Capture an enemy soldier, wounded
Offer to patch him up
Lt – he’d slow us down
“Patch this” – bayonets the soldier
Thomas does nothing to stop him – stony faced
8(b) closing scene
That is the last of my notes. After that, I started typing up the story. But all the while, I had the idea that any scene could drop into almost any part of the story. I made some changes of substance – such as having the enemy soldier left to die, rather than actually killed. But mostly it was a matter of pulling the scenes around into a much snappier sequence. The whole of the first three scenes were compressed into some reminiscing dialogue between Thomas and Peter. The landmine got dropped as too random and instead got compressed into the scene where the Sergeant tests the pacifist resolve of the medic. The only scene that couldn’t move was the one with the punchline.
It’s like I had a deck of 8 (or slightly more) cards and I could throw them up in the air and build a story out of them in any sequence. I wanted to bracket the whole story around the two responses to “What’s your name?” and selected the sequence based on what I thought would give the best impact to the reader and to compress the story into the shortest space.
You’ll note also that in the final piece, there’s no need to resort to flashbacks, time jumps or anything nasty like that. The scenes can be seamlessly played out in my chosen sequence without clunky jumping around.
Now, if you haven’t already, go and read Medic! and you’ll hopefully agree that the impact of the storyline and timeline is much greater in the finished version than in the early draft outline. Enjoy!
Lesson 2: Decisions, decisions
Why I Hate Linear Plots
Ever wondered why your plot line doesn’t quite excite? Perhaps your characters are monotonous, one-dimensional and unempathetic. It’s possible that what you’re lacking is decisions. That is, decisions for your character. You’ve thought up a great story line and interesting, well-characterised performers to act it out, but somehow they just drift through the plot from event to event in a linear, unsurprising and uninteresting fashion.
To get out of this rut, challenge your characters to make meaningful decisions that (appear to) influence the plot. By decisions, I mean that they need to be taken in the teeth of a dilemma. Need to go down to the local shop to buy some milk? Well, make sure your character will have to miss their favourite TV show if they do. Now it’s a decision, albeit a dull one. How about something a bit stronger – falling in love, a common theme in stories. But much more powerful if something will have to be sacrificed if that love is pursued. Your family will disown you, your society banish you or your existing spouse will be hurt and you’ll lose your own children. Get the idea?
Now, try to turn every action by any character into a decision. Not just an action, but an active choice, weighing the consequences of the action against the alternatives, including inaction. That’s right, every action. Not just key story turning actions. Every action.
Once you’ve mastered this, turn it up a notch and make the outcome of the bigger decisions something other than the character intended. Your revenge-consumed psychopath tools up for the show down with his arch-nemesis, loads up with guns, knives and everything needed to dispatch his foe. He sneaks into the apartment and kicks down the door and… finds the muzzle of a gun held to his temple, his enemy right behind him.
I was thinking of these ideas the other day when I happened to watch Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade. In one scene, Indy and his father, Henry Jones, are captured by Nazi soldiers. They are tied together, back to back on chairs, in the middle of a castle hall. With no means of escape, Indy remembers he has a lighter in his pocket, which only Henry could reach. Eventually, Henry manages to get the lighter out to burn through their ropes, but fumbles with it and accidentally drops the burning lighter. He attempts to blow it out, but instead fans the flames setting fire to the carpet. The only refuge away from the carpet is, ironically, in a fireplace, so they bounce and scrape the chairs along until they are safely snuggled in the fireplace. Then, they accidentally bump a secret lever which spins the fireplace around revealing another room. Feeling relieved to have escaped the burning hall, they then see that they are in a secret Nazi control centre, so quickly bump the lever again, preferring the burning room to the Nazi guns.
This sort of thing goes on throughout the whole film. In the space of seconds, each decision is reversed and every attempt to make progress leads to unexpected twists and turns.
Taking these ideas will raise the suspense and interest of your stories, breathing life into the characters and adding emotion to your plotlines.
Lesson 3: Character – Desire – Barrier
Why I Hate Incomplete Stories
The premise of every story has been said to be able to be simplified to a simple formula:
Story = character plus desire versus barriers to that desire
There may well be sub-plots and side-stories in any given story, but in essence, apart from a handful of avant-garde artistic pieces, this formula holds true.
The chapters, scenes or acts in a story consist of the character facing and either overcoming or being overcome by one or more barriers. As this sequence of rising and falling fortunes progresses, the story eventually culminates in either an up (overcome the ultimate barrier) ending or a down ending (character is finally overcome). One of the key skills that separates the skilled story artist from the mere story writer is the ability to draw energy (thrills or other emotions) from handling the shifting rhythm of beats in a story. One Story Mat author who exemplifies how to pull the reader’s emotions along with each shifting outcome is Finway. In most of Finway’s stories (such as The Race and A Great Lament) you’ll find your emotions drawn from high to low back to high until the final blow lands in the story climax and you feel completely relieved or overwhelmed by the ending.
In essence there are four possible endings (there are, of course, many more, but these are the four basic possibilities).
Up ending – This is the classic ending of the fairy tale adventure story. The character achieves his or her aim – the knight slays the dragon and wins the princess’s hand in marriage. Straight forward, easy to write and uplifting if potentially superficial. (Most stories posted here in the Story Mat have an up ending as this is the classic staple of the fantasy and sci-fi genres including my own story, Heisenberg’s Shaman : The River).
Down ending – This is the reverse of the “up” ending. The character fails to achieve his or her aim or pays a great price for their desire (Lord Vega’s A Pleasure To Burn is an example of an extreme down ending, while Heb0’s Saving Face and Crooked Ridge might be considered to have down endings of sorts. My own story Run! while really only a short scene, has a down ending).
Up ironic ending – In this case the character realises that the original desire was wrong in the first place and is liberated from chasing after it (Luke Skywalker gives up trying to kill Darth Vader and saves him instead. Lord Vega delivered an ironic up ending in The Charm).
Down ironic ending – In this ending the character achieves their desire only to realise it wasn’t so desirable after all (my two stories Medic! and Barking Dog both fall into this category as does the highly rated Fingers of Death by Chaoserver).
Down ending – This is the reverse of the “up” ending. The character fails to achieve his or her aim or pays a great price for their desire (Lord Vega’s A Pleasure To Burn is an example of an extreme down ending, while Heb0’s Saving Face and Crooked Ridge might be considered to have down endings of sorts. My own story Run! while really only a short scene, has a down ending).
Up ironic ending – In this case the character realises that the original desire was wrong in the first place and is liberated from chasing after it (Luke Skywalker gives up trying to kill Darth Vader and saves him instead. Lord Vega delivered an ironic up ending in The Charm).
Down ironic ending – In this ending the character achieves their desire only to realise it wasn’t so desirable after all (my two stories Medic! and Barking Dog both fall into this category as does the highly rated Fingers of Death by Chaoserver).
When you go back and look at your own stories and consider which type of ending they have, you may find examples where you can’t fit them into one of these categories. The reason could well be this: What you have written isn’t actually a story. All too often the postings here in the Library are simply scenes or vignettes. I’m guilty of this too – there’s no story as such to my pieces, The First Of November, GRB or Wrong Number. There is room for vignettes and scenes, but don’t make the mistake of believing that they are actually stories. Remember: story = character plus desire versus barriers.
I have one piece of advice for the younger writer. If you want to impress your teacher in a story writing assignment, try out one of the ironic endings. They give a mature feel to a story. If a story is described as being adult themed (if not specifically erotic in nature) it’s likely to have an ironic ending.
If you try out the concepts in this lesson, you might also like to combine them with the lesson I gave on Decisions, decisions. The two concepts work very well together, with character decisions being used to drive outcomes against barriers to desires.
Good luck to all my fellow story writers. I hope these lessons prove useful to at least some of you. Your feedback is more than welcome.