We’ll wrap this up today . . . great information – for
sure! J Rita
Ingredient #5: Change
Think of a caterpillar entering a cocoon. Once he does so, one of two things will happen: He will either transform into a butterfly, or he will die. But no matter what else happens, he will never climb out of the cocoon as a caterpillar.
So it is with your protagonist.
As you frame your story and develop your character, ask
yourself, “What is my caterpillar doing?” Your character will either be
transformed into someone more mature, insightful or at peace, or will plunge
into death or despair.
Although genre can dictate the direction of this
transformation—horror stories will often end with some kind of death (physical,
psychological, emotional or spiritual)—most genres are butterfly genres. Most
stories end with the protagonist experiencing new life—whether that’s physical
renewal, psychological understanding, emotional healing or a spiritual
awakening.
This change marks the resolution of the crisis and the
culmination of the story.
As a result of facing the struggle and making this new
discovery, the character will move to a new normal. The character’s actions or
attitude at the story’s end show us how she’s changed from the story’s
inception. The putty has become a new shape, and if it’s thrown against the
wall again, the reader will understand that a brand-new story is now unfolding.
The old way of life has been forever changed by the process of moving through
the struggle to the discovery and into a new and different life.
Letting Structure Follow Story
I don’t have any idea how many acts my novels contain.
A great many writing instructors, classes and manuals teach that
all stories should have three acts—and, honestly, that doesn’t make much sense
to me. After all, in theater, you’ll find successful one-act, two-act,
three-act and four-act plays. And most assuredly, they are all stories.
If you’re writing a novel that people won’t read in one sitting (which is presumably
every novel), your readers couldn’t care less about how many acts there are—in
fact, they probably won’t even be able to keep track of them. What readers
really care about is the forward movement of the story as it escalates to its
inevitable and unexpected conclusion.
While it’s true that structuring techniques can be helpful
tools, unfortunately, formulaic approaches frequently send stories spiraling
off in the wrong direction or, just as bad, handcuff the narrative flow. Often
the people who advocate funneling your story into a predetermined three-act
structure will note that stories have the potential to sag or stall out during
the long second act. And whenever I hear that, I think, Then why not shorten
it? Or chop it up and include more acts? Why let the story suffer just so you
can follow a formula?
I have a feeling that if you asked the people who teach
three-act structure if they’d rather have a story that closely follows their
format, or one that intimately connects with readers, they would go with the
latter. Why? Because I’m guessing that deep down, even they know that in the
end, story trumps structure.
Once I was speaking with another writing instructor and he told
me that the three acts form the skeleton of a story. I wasn’t sure how to
respond to that until I was at an aquarium with my daughter later that week and
I saw an octopus. I realized that it got along pretty well without a skeleton.
A storyteller’s goal is to give life to a story, not to stick in bones that
aren’t necessary for that species of tale.
So, stop thinking of a story as something that happens in three
acts, or two acts, or four or seven, or as something that is driven by
predetermined elements of plot. Rather, think of your story as an organic whole
that reveals a transformation in the life of your character. The number of acts
or events should be determined by the movement of the story, not the other way
around.
Because story trumps structure.
If you render a portrait of the protagonist’s life in such a way
that we can picture his world and also care about what happens to him, we’ll be
drawn into the story. If you present us with an emotionally stirring crisis or
calling, we’ll get hooked. If you show the stakes rising as the character
struggles to solve this crisis, you’ll draw us in more deeply. And if you end
the story in a surprising yet logical way that reveals a transformation of the
main character’s life, we’ll be satisfied and anxious to read your next story.
The ingredients come together, and the cake tastes good.
Always be ready to avoid formulas, discard acts and break the
“rules” for the sake of the story—which is another way of saying: Always be
ready to do it for the sake of your readers.
This article was
written by Steven James.
Not sure if your story structure is strong enough to woo an agent? Consider:
Story Structure Architect - WritersDigestShop.com
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