Larry Brooks's Blog, page 34

From Idea to Fully Viable Story Plan… in One Blog Post

Just Possibly a Save-Your-NaNoWriMo Strategy…

… or any other story you’re working on.

I offer the following to illustrate the power of story planning and writing in context to mission-driven story architecture… and to demonstrate that it CAN be done. 

In this case, in 32 minutes.

The result is, conceivably, a workable story plan that an inspired author could use – with or without expansion – to actually draft a viable novel or screenplay, one with all the working parts in the prescribed places, and with the optimal balance of story physics clicking on all cylinders.

Notice how it doesn’t remotely take the mystery and romance out of the creative  process – indeed, this is the creative process – because the character remains a blank page, someone the writer can discover and explore using this charted course.

Every protagonist, by the way, benefits from a charted course.

Where did this come from?

Yesterday I presented a webinar for Writers Digest University.  It included an abbreviated version of my new condensed story coaching program, toward which I offered an example story idea and turned it into a concept, simply to illustrate what I was asking them to send me as part of this process.

Turned out the idea and the concept that sprang from it had dramatic chops.  Something worth exploring further.  Which I’m doing here, and now, in real time as I write this.

With that idea as a starting point, I’ve expanded upon it with the goal of turning the thing into a viable story, one worth telling.  With inspired execution and killer scenes, this is something that could actually be publishable.

The story: “Woman At War”

Idea: Write a story about a woman who loses her children to an abusive husband.

Concept: The American wife of an abusive heir to a powerful middle east oil family fortune tries to divorce him, but he takes their two children and escapes to Lebanon where she can’t touch him, or them.

Genre: a thriller with romantic overtones.

Premise: An abused American wife seeks protection from an ex-boyfriend (the guy she should have married, but wasn’t nearly as wealthy, who happens to be an ex-Navy Seal), as she begins divorce proceedings against her abusive Lebanese husband.  But before it gets to court the husband takes their two children back to Beirut with him, and when she goes to US Authorities for help they refuse because of diplomatic sensitivities.  The ex-boyfriend (from whom she’d been seeking comfort and protection) steps up, and together they conceive a plan to get the children back, battling not only the husband’s scope of power in Beirut but opposition from her own government. 

Themes: A mother’s love, and the power of intention driven by that love, conquers all.  Also, the heart knows real love, even when the brain says otherwise.  The story explores the lengths governments will go to, at the expense of citizens, to further their own goals relative to trade and diplomatic relations.

Sub-Plot: a behind the scenes look at the government’s machinations to stop our heroes (with a career and moral-crisis CIA agent as the focus) and keep this thing under wraps, to protect a sensitive oil trade agreement with the antagonist’s family and his government.  And, a budding romance.

Narrative strategy: use first person-past point of view, as told from our wife/hero, and third person omniscient to unspool the CIA’s counter moves, bringing these threads closer to collision as we go deeper into the story.

First Plot Point:  After much jockeying and promising, the US Government refuses their VISA to travel to Beirut, and she is warned off by a CIA agent, who offers a hollow promise that “they’ll look into it.”  She knows she’s alone with this problem, until the man who has been protecting her (the ex-boyfriend) says he knows how to get into Lebanon, and steps up to get the children back home.

Ending: The ex-Seal, who by now has won our heroine’s heart, forces a stand off that will liberate the children, but is taken hostage in doing so.  But because of his profile and contacts in the press, the US government can no longer cover it up, and must negotiate for his freedom, and return him to our protagonist and her children to pursue a life together.

The story in Ten Expositional Blocks:

1. Hook: A terrible fight between our protagonist and her husband, who is physically abusive.  She announces she wants a divorce.  She’s afraid he’ll kill her (he threatens this) so she leaves.  The two children are at her mother’s.

2.  Inciting Incident: She goes to her friend, the ex-Seal, for comfort.  He

advises her to get the children immediately, but when they arrive at her mothers’ they are terrified to learn that at the husband has already picked them up.  When they go back to her house, he’s gone.  No note.  She assumes (because he’s threatened this, too) that he’s taken the children (whose things are gone, too) back to Beirut.

3.  Part 1 exposition:  She seeks help from a lawyer and from US authorities, on several fronts,  but meets with resistance.  Meanwhile she gets closer to the ex-boyfriend, as their backstory is revealed.  She gets a message, the kids are fine, but they’re staying in Beruit with the husband.  She gets emails from them, asking for her help to come home, but the emails are security-blinded and the source cannot be located.   

4.  First Plot Point:  Her VISA to travel to Beruit is denied.  When she pushes back, she is visited by a CIA agent who tells her to back off, that they’re looking into it.  Her boyfriend, who has ex-Seal buddies in the CIA, discovers this isn’t true, it’s not on the radar because the husband is too sensitive.

5.  Part 2 exposition: Fact finding, plan hatching.  She and the ex-boyfriend realize there is sexual tension between them.  More backstory (his, as a veteran of the Gulf War) surfaces, foreshadowing his ability to navigate there.  As a Pinch Point, she receives an email with a photo, showing her children with her husband, and a new wife and mother.  They try alternative strategies (private security people, other agencies), but nothing is working.  Meanwhile, we see the CIA is aware that they’re not letting this go.

6.  Mid-Point: The boyfriend has a breakthrough: he’s made contact with some people he knew during the war, and they’re willing to help.  He’s going there, he’ll get the children.  She wants to go, but he says no.  Also, the CIA becomes aware of the contact the ex-boyfriend has just made with a military official in Beruit.

7.  Part 3 exposition: They yield to the sexual tension, and he relents when she convinces him she needs to go with him.  When the CIA gets wind of their flight plans (they’ve been watching), they issue threats, and alternative transportation must be arranged.  They drive into Canada and will fly from there under false identities, which the boyfriend is arranging.  At the Pinch Point they arrive, but the boyfriend’s military contact is dead, from a recent accident.  They are alone.  They begin the search for her husband’s family compound, where the children are, ducking potential threats enroute .

8. Second Plot Point: Following clues, they finally find the family complex, but they are captured.

9. Part 4 exposition: The CIA knows they are there (the family is demanding concessions for their return), and they mount a lame rescue strategy.  But this is turned away by Lebanese forces.  Meanwhile the wife reasons with her husband (she’s denied access to the children).  She, in effect, plays to his ego and seems to seduce him, asking him to come back to her, allowing the boyfriend to escape within the family complex.  But he can’t find the children.  Instead, armed with a weapon he forcibly took from a guard, he takes the husband’s other children hostage, demanding a trade and safe exit with our woman’s children.  And in the meantime, manages to contact assets in the states that can create leverage for what he wants.  It’s a standoff.

10. Resolution: Our hero has managed to get the press involved, which sucks the CIA visibly back in.  A settlement is negotiated.  The boyfriend must remain behind to stand trial, with the CIA supplying their best lawyer.  The wife and children are returned home, on the condition that the husband be given liberal visitation rights in the states, under supervised security protocols.  Our wife/hero agrees to this, but only on one final condition: that the boyfriend be allowed to return home with them.  The CIA now backs her on this – they are afraid of backlash on this one – and pressures the family to capitulate.  They return home as a unit, with a life in front of them, and a wary government at their back, making sure this doesn’t blow up into an international incident they can no longer control.

Shades of Argo, with a family twist.

Holes and soft spots, perhaps.   Stuff you might tinker with at this level, or things you might address during the actual drafting of scenes.  Either way – again, this took 32 minutes… imaging where you could take it with, say, 32 hours of brainstorming? – the story is whole, proportioned, addresses all realms of story physics, and is ready for the next step.

Too many stories are written from a vision that is less than this.  But this level of vision for the story – either before you write it, or in context to a draft you don’t feel is working – is a powerful way to create a skeletal, concept-driven narrative exposition that works.  From there it’s all upside.

If you’re struggling with your story, and want to test its architecture relative to the leverage of underlying story physics, try this approach.  Boil your story down to these key points and watch what happens.

It can unblock you.

It can elevate the story to greater effectiveness.

It can fix what’s broken, even if you didn’t know it was broken.  Because it leverages the power of story physics in the right places, to the right degree.

It’s also where you’ll end up, anyway, perhaps after coaching and editing, when you finally arrive at a story that works.

*****

Are you up for an MRI-like analysis of your story?  For either your plan or an actual draft?  Got a hundred bucks?  Click HERE to get the skinny on the most original, value-delivering service in the story coaching business.

From Idea to Fully Viable Story Plan… in One Blog Post is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

The Killer Three-Headed Story Beast

It might actually be you.  Hopefully it is.

Sounds kinda silly-scary, I know.  But this is a good thing.  Because you need to be of three minds – three heads – before you become a fully realized, successful author.

Even if you just get lucky, in that moment of kismet you will have been of three minds.  Funny how luck works that way.

I build learning and execution models that put a fence around the intention, process and outcome of storytelling. 

High bars to reach for, instead of just leaping into a void.  Specific paths protocols to follow, instead of putting blinders and then pressing the gas pedal.  Conventional wisdom repackaged into clarifying new perspectives. 

To wit: Six core competencies.  Six realms of story physics.  Seven levels of character exposition.  Three dimensions of character.  A three-part story development model.  And so on.  Might seem like you need an abacus and a CPA to wade through it all. 

Hey, the Bible did it… seven headed serpents, seven tablets, seven bowls, seven scrolls, seven thunders, seven days of creation… just sayin’.

So here I am with yet another model for writers to consider, none of it metaphoric.  This offers another way of thinking about storytelling – and a way to attack it and build your skills – that divides into, once again, three parts.

This isn’t about process. 

No matter how you write, this applies to you.

There are three aspects of the writing mindset– what you need to know and what you need to be able to do – that define the skillset of the professional author.  Think of your story as a company run by three executive heads (which, in a small firm, often exist within one skull): the engineering/product whiz, the money suit and the operations honcho.  

They have separate areas of responsibility.  They have meetings, sometimes with each other.  They have tee times, also sometimes with each other.  And before the business model collectively works and a profit is shown, they must ultimately be on the same page, each making the others effective. 

So it is with your story model.

Here they are:

Your craft head.  An understanding of how ideas grow into concepts and then become premises, and how narrative unspools over four distinct contextual parts, separated by specific mission-driven story turns.  This is the stuff of story design. You can’t just make it up, you need to create within this general paradigm.

Your story physics head.  An understanding of what makes a story work.  Craft gives you a shot at this, but the reason one story works better than another perfectly crafted story is that the story physics are strong.  These are the forces of narrative, in which compelling premise is infused with dramatic tension, revealed with artful pace, resulting in hero empathy (rooting) and vicarious experience… rendered with the next of the three heads.  This is the stuff of story power, the forces that render the design effective.

Your story sense head.  Timing, nuance, out-of-box thinking, a personal style and brand… a story voice.  This is the differentiating, empowering stuff of talent and art, and it resides as a layer above and infused with craft and physics..

These three become a sum that exceeds the parts.

When a story works the author has gone three for three. 

Your story is already asking all three of these areas of application from you.  

When it isn’t working, it’ll stay stuck until you bring all three heads to the storytelling party. 

When you recognize these three mindsets as different aspects of the writing process – whatever your process – you will be better equipped to answer the call.

Craft and story physics… they are what they are, and they’re waiting for you to discover and apply them.  But that last one, story sense… that’s the goal, one that entirely depends on the first two.  Having it without the first two isn’t enough.  That just makes you… well, a book reviewer.

Story sensibility is what Stephen King has over the rest of us.  Don’t care for King?  Then swap out King’s name with your favorite author and it’s just as true.  Story sense, rather than craft, is the differentiating factor. 

Craft… that’s just the ante-in.  In a pile of submissions with 500 titles awaiting a decision, over half may have solid craft on display.  But only a handful will land a contract.  The difference is pure, unadulterated story sense.

How are you doing on each of these three heads? 

If you come up less than stellar in any of them, consider a little focus on that area.  It might be just the thing to takes you to the next level.

*****

Consider this INCENTIVE to join me on Thursday, October 18 (1:00 eastern) for my Writers Digest University webinar: “Story Physics: Mastering the Most Important Moments in Your Story.”

This  90-minute webinar (available afterwards as a recorded downloadable product from Writers Digest) will feed all three of your writing heads with fundamental knowledge on narrative sequencing and the application of optimal story forces.

The regular tuition is $89.  Use this code — WDS329 – for a $10 discount.

Then – and here’s the BIG INCENTIVE – if you’d like to see how your story stacks up on all three of these mindsets… send me your webinar signup receipt to get half off on my new $100 Story Coaching Adventure, good for the next six months. 

This practically pays for the webinar itself, and based on feedback, delivers far more than a self-respecting C-note has a right to expect.  (Note: the story coaching discount is not affiliated with Writers Digest University and is not a part of their registration protocol… it’s my offer to you as a means of taking your story to the next level.  This optional add-on is separate from the INCLUDED shorter concept and FPP analysis as part of your WD enrollment.)

Hope you’ll join me on Thursday, it’s going to be intense.

If you can’t and you’d still like to put your story under the intense light of analysis, even if you haven’t written it yet… click HERE. 

 

The Killer Three-Headed Story Beast is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

A Two Hour Story Clinic for the Price of a Movie Ticket

We practice story craft in the pursuit of… what? 

Excellence, of course.  But what does that mean?  What makes a story excellent? 

It’s not craft… craft is the means, the pursuit, the toolchest.  This craft-excellence-craft circle becomes a paradox until we understand what the goal is, what actually makes a story work. 

And that answer is… story physics.  The forces of managing reader manipulation and experience that combine to compel, engage, enrage, an ultimately satisfy.  Any story that works juggles these variables, and while we can define them again and again — which I do – it’s good to see them at work.

When regular folks who aren’t nursing a writing Jones read a story or see a film that works, they feel the story physics without giving them much thought.  They are pulled in, they root, they worry and wonder, they hope.  But us… we not only feel those same forces, we notice them, we appreciate them, and if we’re paying attention, we can learn from them.

Or at least we should.

One of the best clinics I’ve ever seen on the subject of story physics opened in theaters today. 

It’s a true story directed by Ben Affleck, who also stars.  It’s called Argo, the title of a ficticious film within the film.  It snagged a 5-star review in my local paper — in two years of living here and reading every last movie review, it’s the first and only 5-star review I’ve seen – and probably something comparable in yours.

And that’s no accident.  That’s entirely because of the story physics that went into the script.  It’s the outcome of storytelling craft at its best.

Buy a ticket, watch, and learn.

Here are the five things you need to look for, all of them realms of story physics. 

Each is stellar in this story.  Not remotely contrived or forced, masterfully integrated through the application of the Six Core Competencies.  Most stories have one or two really good realms of physics in play, but rarely are all five in evidence to this degree. 

When than happens the stories usually become bestsellers and win Oscars.  The connection isn’t quite inevitable, but with a little patience and in the hands of the right agent, nearly unavoidable.

A compelling premise… based on a true story that might have been laughed off an editor’s desk if submitted as fiction.  And yet, the assembling of the moving parts of the story are artful, as compelling as any fiction you’ve every read or seen, and therefore a mechanical application of concept.  Something we should always consider when looking for ways to bring our story ideas to life.

Extraordinary dramatic tension… almost from the first frame.  Stakes are palpable, and the tension erupts from multiple sources, always circling and embracing the primary core story spine.  Everybody in this movie needs and wants something, and everybody has to conquer serious obstacles to get it.  If you’ve struggled with this hero’s quest stuff, this is your in-your-face case study.

Breath-taking, perfectly metered pacing… that just goes faster and faster, never letting up on the gas.  Even the cutaways from the main characters keep you riveted.

Hero empathy… you can feel the anxiety in every frame, and not just for the hero, either.  You’ll be happy you’re not there, yet grateful you to see and feel what it was like to be them.

A vicarious journey… in which that empathy allows you to lose yourself in the story, not only to be them, but to be there.  If you have a single moment of reflecting on your real life once the lights go down, you aren’t paying close enough attention here… this is bigger than your real life, and you’ll experience every beat.

What’s amazing about this story is that the ending is never in doubt.  And yet, you’ll find yourself holding your breath and spilling your popcorn.  That’s a testiment to story physics… it’s less about outcome than it is about the experience of getting there.  Or in this case, getting out of there.

And just maybe, walking out of the theater inspired and more fully aware of the power at your disposal: the power of story physics may suddenly be clearer to you, more accessible to you.  They’re already in your story, the question becomes… are they running the show, or are you, the author, running them with the goal of making them stronger?

That latter option, by the way, is also called craft. 

Finally… stick around for the credits, you’ll see the real people this film depicts and honors. 

*****

Would you like to see how your story physics stack up?  Click HERE to learn how.

A Two Hour Story Clinic for the Price of a Movie Ticket is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

What I’ve Learned About Writing in the Last Six Months

Sometimes, with our head down and our focus impervious to anything short of an earthquake, we forget to look up and see what’s beckoning within arm’s reach.

That’s me for the last six months, working on two projects (actually three, but two were particularly world-rocking) that have totally consumed me.  The first is the launch of my new story coaching model, which has given me the opportunity to read and evaluate (in a condensed, creative way) well over 100 yet-to-be-published novels in the last six months.

A fascinating journey.  Patterns form.  Truth screams up at me. 

And, I’ve been finishing the manuscript for my new writing book, “Story Physics: Harnessing the Underlying Forces of Storytelling.”  I turned the manuscript in yesterday, which in no small part inspires this post today.  The timing couldn’t be better, because those 100 novels I’ve been evaluating were the real life case studies I needed to solidify that content.

The Huge Bat-to-the-Head Learning From This Experience

It’s the clarification of the scary intersection of craft and art, and the illumination of what can go wrong when a writer doesn’t see it.  Here it is:

● You can nail the core competencies with textbook perfect criteria-satisfaction… and the story still might not be publishable.

● You can bring a fresh, compelling, provocative conceptual premise and story landscape… and the story still might not be publishable.

● The sum of those two is this: you absolutely do need to understand the basic story physics at hand… but if applied to an under-cooked idea, the story won’t work well.  Because your idea of a compelling idea may not be a universally-held opinion.

Bottom line:

In storytelling, there are two realms of talent: the ability to craft a story for optimal effectiveness using fundamental principles (core competencies and story physics)… and the “story sense” to make it all seamless, powerful, compelling and original.

It’s that story sense that’s the awaiting Epiphany. 

It can’t be taught directly.  It is the outcome of a journey of discovery, practice and growth… just like a musician, a surgeon, a pilot, a politician, a teacher, an athlete or even a parent.  Within their craft they are all exposed to the best principles and latest thinking.  For the most part they receive the same level of coaching and preparation.

But only an elite few rise to the level of professional excellence.  Ask your golf pro or your piano teacher, neither of whom are touring… they’ll tell you.  It’s an indefinable sensibility that’s the difference between who tours and who doesn’t.  At the highest professional level of achievement, the ability to make a living is entirely defined by, and empowered by, the relevant sensibilities required to compete against other professionals at that level.

It’s why Larry Bird, without the speed or leaping ability of his peers, is in the Hall of Fame.  It’s why Dr. Oz is on television reaching millions, while other doctors are every bit his equal.  It’s why only one guy gets to fly the #1 jet in the Blue Angels, while the Navy is full of pilots who are technically just as good.

The Pursuit of Something

It made me realize that as I wax passionate and hopefully clear on the principles of storytelling from both realms, my work is leading us toward something.  As is your work.

That “something” is what I’m looking for in these stories I’m evaluating, and the explanation as to why writers with good stories aren’t executing well enough, and writers who are good at executing aren’t telling stories that are compelling enough.

There is a difference between those two. 

A significant and meaningful difference.  The key to it all.  When you recognize what it is, you’re already on the path toward this something we are seeking.

We are seeking to elevate our story sensibilities.  It is the sum of our craft and our imagination, our ability to breath life into an idea.  One realm without the other isn’t enough.  Both realms, artfully combined, yield an outcome that is in excess of the sum of the parts.

A story with that extra something going for it.

This is the Holy Grail of storytelling.

Some call it talent.  I think it’s the wrong term… I prefer… enlightenment.  We don’t have to be born with it.   We discover it, moment by moment, along the path.

I pursue it by writing about it, here and in my books and in my workshops.  I hope that my work fuels and empowers your pursuit of it, whatever form that may take.

The path asks you to conquer two realms of understanding: craft, as defined by the core competencies you must command… and power blended with nuance, as defined by the story physics you can and should access.

Only then will the requisite sensibilities be liberated within you.

*****

If sharing this content has earned a few more moments of your attention, and if you’d like to share the journey with me, here are four avenues of further exploration I’d like to put out there.

My Writers Digest University Webinar – October 18, 2012 (1:00 pm Eastern)

Spend 90 live minutes with me discussing: Story Physics: Mastering the Most Important Moments In Your Story.  If you don’t nail these story beats, nothing in your story works as well as it should.

Sign up HERE.  As an incentive to Storyfix readers, use this Discount Code for $10 off the published tuition of $89: WDS329.

*****

A One-Day Advanced Storytelling Workshop – November 10, 2012

“STORY 404 — Advanced Story Development and Execution for Serious Writers”

It’s one career-changing day, open to writers everywhere.  Drive or fly to Portland and take your novel or screenplay to the next level.

Learn more and Sign up HERE.

*****

My new Story Coaching Service… like an MRI for your story, for the price of a fill-up and a car wash.

Learn more HERE.  There’s never been anything like this – either for the price or the value – in the story coaching business.

My new writing book, available for pre-order.

“Story Physics: Harnessing the Underlying Forces of Storytelling”

Check out the new cover and pre-order on Amazon HERE.

 

What I’ve Learned About Writing in the Last Six Months is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Another NaNoWriMo… Will This Year Be Different?

I believe it can be.  I believe it should be.

Last October I wrote 31 posts in 31 days as a sort of NaNoWriMo bootcamp.  Damn near killed me.  But in the end I had what amounted to a valuabale guide to writing a book quickly and effectively.

I had intended to do it again this year.  But not much has changed about how-to-write-a-publishable-novel-in-30-days since then… so here’s a better idea: Read the book.

Shortly after that series I compiled those posts — which I expanded, and to which I added new content — into a book, which you see above.  It’s been selling consistently all year since, but allow me to introduce it to you here, in context to that pit you’re feeling in your stomach as NaNoWriMo approaches.

Fact is, you CAN write a publishable novel in 30 days. 

But it just might take you 31 days (October) to prepare for the process.

Be advised, however… there is a conditional and non-negotiable caveat of that possibility: that you start with a killer idea in mind and begin developing it into a concept, then a premise, then a story plan… and that you do it NOW… so that when November 1 rolls around you’ve jump-started and empowered the whole process.

That’s perfectly legal in NaNoWriMo land, by the way.  I believe it’s the only way to truly “win” NaNoWriMo, beyond the self-flagellating drudgery of simply pounding out 50,000 words that are still in search of a story spine.

The book is writtin in context to NaNoWriMo, too.  In other words, I feel your pain… and exhilaration.  I prefer the latter. 

It’s cool to start a marathon and finish, just to see if you can… but it’s better if you intend to really win the race.  Admit it, that’s your goal, am I right?  To turn pro?  Why not use NaNoWriMo as a runway for that aspiration, and come out the other end with something that really does have a shot.  A legit piece of work.

The book will show you how, step by step.  It’s all about craft and process, the triumph of informed storytelling over a random and rushed cobbling together of ideas.  If you know your story beforehand — and you can — the challenge of writing 1800 words a day is a no-brainer. 

Imagine where you could be come December 1st.  Perhaps a tweak and a proof away from something submittable.

It’s $5.95 on Kindle… or to buy a directly downloadable PDF, click this button:

I may do a few posts in October to help ease the NaNoWriMo jitters.  The the Big Enchilada is in the book… which (full disclosure) you can piece together from my Archives here, minus the value-add of an assembled whole.  Either way, I wish you a great November, and a future for your project thereafter.

Another NaNoWriMo… Will This Year Be Different? is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

“The Hopes and Dreams of Truly Awful People” — a guest post by Art Holcomb

Love Art Holcomb.  His resume is… massively credible.  Use the search function (to the right on this site) to find more Storyfix contributions from this guy.  Worth every minute.

In fact — to show you who this guy is — about ten minutes before posting this I get a lengthy (and genius) email from Art about how to take Storyfix deeper into the screenwriting world.  We should all take a page out of this guy’s book.

When you’re done here, click over to Inkybites for an interview with yours truly. 

****

The Hopes and Dreams of Truly Awful People

by Art Holcomb

After more than twenty years writing comics and screenplays, I have come to know a lot about villains and what makes them tick.  In that time, I’ve created crazed megalomaniacs, fierce aliens, marauding computer programs, scheming business tycoons and – in one particular case – a very angry dragon.  And let me tell you, writing for the villain is often more difficult and more pleasurable that writing for the hero!

With that said; please consider the following Rogue’s Gallery – all members in “very bad” standing:

Moriarty, Voldemort, Dracula, The Werewolf, Iago, Darth Vader, Lex Luthor, Captain Hook, Skar, Satan, Nurse Ratchet, Richelieu, Hannibal Lector, Scarface, , Norman Bates, Anton Chigurh, Freddy Krueger, Gordon Gekko, Senator Palpatine, Harry Lime, Jack the Ripper, Hans Gruber, Auric Goldfinger, Stromboli, Sweeney Todd, Michael Corleone . . . The Joker.

So . . . what is it that all these characters have in common?

Answer: They each go to bed every night knowing – absolutely knowing – that they are the HEROES OF THEIR OWN STORY.

And they are right! 

Because it was the only way for their creators to make sure these characters could do their job: that is, drive the conflict necessary to bring about REAL change in the hero.  It’s what makes each of these stories a classic. 

For example, Voldemort is positively relentless in his evilly-do.  His ever- growing threat forces Harry Potter to change, to evolve from a petulant little boy to the Master of the Wizarding World. But, to make it work, Voldemort HAS TO BELIEVE that his vision of the world is the right one- that everything would be better under his benevolent but oppressive reign. We watch as he gleefully take in supplicants to his cause, metes out swift and awful justice and takes great pleasure in planning for a new world order where nothing was left to chance.

The same is true for Vader, Luthor, Richelieu, and Scarface.

Creepy? Sure!  But all very human.

Others, like Moriarty, Iago, and Goldfinger, are not out for world conquest. They will tell you that they are just men pursuing a dream of personal wealth and power.  It’s about destiny – they really just want what is theirs.  If no one had tried to stand between them and their dreams, everything would have been fine.

It’s a literary version of “won’t be nothin’ if you don’t start nothin.”

Of course, that’s never what happens.  Their clashes with the hero never work – not because good and evil always play in a zero-sum game . . .

But because they are, in many ways, cut from the same cloth.  Both have powerful characters.  Both play for high stakes.

But most of all, the characters work because both hero and villain really want the SAME THING.

They both want TO WIN. 

Just as each of us wants every day of our lives – we all want to win.

All antagonists MUST BE WRITTEN AS REAL PEOPLE if they are to drive the action and conflict in a story.  This is especially important in genre pieces because villains almost always get the first real move, feel the first passion.  They bring as much action as reaction into the conflict.

If such a character is only two-dimensional, it isn’t strong or complex enough to force the necessary changes in the hero. And when a writer creates a wishy-washy or reluctant antagonist, he loses his best opportunity to TIE THE READER TO THE STORY and create that all important audience-protagonist bond that will bring the reader back again and again to the writer and his other works.

In other words, disappoint the reader in this way and he’s gone.

So, some things to consider as you craft your antagonist and put him/her/it through their paces:

Western storytelling allows you to learn about your hero as you write the story, but you had better completely know your antagonist from the very beginning.  Your hero should be the only malleable character in the piece. In other words, your hero must be genuine, but your antagonist must be genuine and tangible.
While your hero will debate and have doubts about the path he is taking, your antagonist cannot.  He must be sure of himself, his cause, and his ultimate victory.
The antagonist is not there to merely stop the hero from getting what he wants; he has an agenda, his own list of goals, desires, and tangible goodies that the Protagonist is preventing him from having. The sword must cut both ways: each player wants to get what they want while all the while denying the other what THEY want.  It isn’t enough to do just one or the other. They must be completely incompatible with each other.

 When such desires manifest themselves, conflict begins.  And the antagonist is the implement of that conflict and the instrument of the hero’s necessary change.   By standing squarely in the hero’s path and opposing him, he makes the hero strive ever harder.  The bad guy is the crucible in which the impurity of the Hero is burned away, leaving a purer form.

It’s best to eliminate the idea of good and evil as motives, unless that is thematic to the piece.  Best instead to sit in the villain’s lap and let him tell you about growing up, his successes as well as his failures.  Watch him in those moments when nothing is at stake and you will see his humanity. 

If appropriate, repay him and delight your reader by writing for the bad guy a humanizing “Darth Vader Rescues the Kittens” scene at least once in a story. It will reach the audience on a basic level and increase their investment in your tale by making him mortal and vulnerable.  It never hurts to give character his or her own private moment with the reader. 

EXERCISES: Think about these questions as you ponder your current bad guy . . .

#1: Who are your favorite villains?  What makes them so? 

#2: Who are the antagonists in your own life?

#3: Go home to the place where your antagonist lives.  Look around. What do you see, hear, taste, and smell?

#4: Describe what it would be like for your best friend to turn against you.  What would they have done?  How is that different from right now?

#5:  How DOES your antagonist sleep at night?

Until next time . . .

Keep writing!

Art Holcomb is a produced screenwriter and a published comic book author of such comics as Marvel’s X-MEN and Acclaim’s ETERNAL WARRIORS.  He consults and teaches screenwriting and comic book writing for the UC Riverside Extension Writer’s Program.  His most recent story is ALWAYS WINTER BUT NEVER CHRISTMAS and is currently working on a book for writers entitled Perfecting Your Premise.

He lives in Southern California.

Footnote (from Art):

This year, I’m a guest speaker at the Screenwriter’s World Conference in Los Angeles in October, and I’m fortunate enough to be appearing with some of the best screenwriters, teachers and consultants working today.  The link is: Screenwriters world . Drop in and say hello!

Also, I still have some spots available in my Scriptwriting class at UC Riverside in October.  We’re covering screenwriting and comic books/graphic novels and while I am an industry consultant primarily, the class meant for developing a screenplay and/or a graphic novel script with constant access and input from me throughout.  The class is open to everyone. The link is. UCRiverside Class.

*****

 By the way (and this footnote is from Larry)… here’s what Art said about my new $100 Story Coaching service (unsolicited): “I think your $100 service is absolutely the greatest value I have ever seen for ANY form of critique – Well done!”)

“The Hopes and Dreams of Truly Awful People” — a guest post by Art Holcomb is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Novelists: The Data on “Normal”… And the Path to Extraordinary

They say that about two out of every 100 novels submitted to publishers actually get a contract.  Of those, a majority were submitted through established literary agencies, which changes the odds dramatically.

That’s good news and the bad news.  Because it means you need to get an agent – which you absolutely can – before that two percent probability kicks in. 

Without an agent, your odds are significantly lower.

Based on less scientific numbers (i.e., me talking to people), I’d say the number of projects accepted for representation by agents is about 1 in 25 of full manuscripts submitted.  But you need to realize that’s after they’ve heard pitches and read partials before they even consent to read a full manuscript… so the number goes to about 1 out of 100 (because they read full manuscripts for about 1 out of 4 of the projects they consent to review as a partial, at best; the bigger the agent, the lower those odds).

The net-net of that… for every novel that gets legitimately published, only one out of every 2000 novels written finds a publisher.  And of those that do, the vast majority will have gathered more than a few rejection slips along the way.

Those are pretty crappy odds.  But they are also reasonable, given what actually arrives in the inboxes of agents and publishing houses.  (The odds are even worse in the screenwriting trade, unless you have a close connection to the industry.)

Wouldn’t it be good to know why? 

And to be able to apply that knowledge toward your own projects, to fix what the professionals will so quickly and easily find lacking – the basis for rejection – before you hit the SEND button?

They won’t tell you, in detail, why they’re rejecting you.  But…

I can tell you why they will.  Or not. 

I really can.  Not just theoretically, but statistically, through the filter of my own experience as a story coach and author who is on his third agent, seventh writing book and sixth published novel.

I’ve read and analyzed 112 stories since April 1st of this year, as part of my evaluation service.  Now, before you tell me to get a life, I certainly haven’t read an entire novel or script every two to three days.  No, only about ten of these evals have been fully executed projects. 

Rather, the vast majority of these evaluations were submissions to my new affordable story physics-based analysis, which calls for the writer to answer some scary questions and submit a synopsis, from which I can pretty much tell if they have a solid shot at delivering a story that works, through their demonstrated awareness and application of essential story physics and where they stand relative to the six core competencies of successful storytelling.

I thought you might like to know what I see in these stories.

Specifically, and as trends and pitfalls.

And thus, why talented, well-intended writers are coming up short in the core areas that agents and authors are looking for. 

What’s interesting – and tragic – is that pretty much every client wasn’t even aware their story was weak in any given area, they were already well down the development road (some had even completed a draft or two).

And yet, there was almost always some area(s) of softness or weakness in the stories that would ultimately, almost certainly tank them.  Their investment of $100 is well placed, because I call these out, explain them, and offer alternatives and solutions to fix the problems, some of which call for an entire reboot.

How can this work? 

Because agents and editors are looking, first and foremost, for a great story.  Your writing, your stunningly beautiful sentences and your genius worldview, has very little to do with it (because writing can be fixed), which means the bones of a story can be exposed and analyzed against known criteria and benchmarks to access strength, potential and the presence of disease at the conceptual, thematic and structural levels.

I’d say half the stories have issues with dramatic tension. 

As in, not enough of it.

They aren’t putting their heroes into a situation that has them credibly pursuing a worthy goal, solving a challenging problem that absolutely needs a solution, or putting them in harm’s way, with a villain or antagonist in the mix.  Rather they have their heroes in an interesting situation (from the author’s perspective)… which isn’t enough.

I’d say the majority of the other half, those that do have a compelling dramatic question in place, aren’t unspooling it in the proper (or optimized) order.  They’ve mishandled the structure, especially the First Plot Point, which is the most important moment in a story.

Some stories – about 20 percent – jump the tracks from their original story onto a completely different story spine somewhere in the middle.  A few even completely abandoning their heroes and the opening conceptual context when – my guess is there were pantsing here – another idea presented itself.

About a third were self-destructing because they were passionately focused on an theme or issue, or a historical time and place, turning the narrative into a journalistic essay or historical travelogue with sociological tones… with weak or absolutely no tension or hero’s quest in the mix.

I’ve said it before, it bears repeating: great stories aren’t just about something… they’re about something happening.  The access to having a reader understand your thematic intentions resides in the consequences of the decisions, actions and dynamics of and between your characters, rather than the author’s projected agenda.

About two thirds suffered from episodic storytelling.  Stories that cover a lot of ground, showing the hero having many experiences, but without a forward-evolving connection to a core story or spine. 

About one in four had ideas, sometimes even expressed in a conceptual way (a good thing; half of these were ideas that weren’t conceptual, which is a deal-killer), that weren’t inherently compelling.  Which offers little potential for drama and tension (necessary), that were work-a-day normal and vanilla, with too little for a protagonist to do that a reader would find provocative or interesting. 

You can’t turn a bad idea or premise into a good story via good writing.  Like a chef, you need rich and tasty raw materials as the stuff of your main dish.

A few projects held huge potential, they had story physics and core competencies that covered nearly every base.  Even then, I found opportunities to suggest tweaks in structure or nuance that could make them even better.  Of the 112 stories, I’d say about 15 fell into this category.

Some writers had decent stories, but couldn’t express them clearly within the confines of a synopsis or answers to questions.  Which is a huge yellow flag.

Of the 112 stories, I’d say about 110 were projects that had a definite fix available, from some major tweaks to a full re-conceptualization and restructuring.

I found something worthy in all 115. 

I am, if nothing else, supportive and empathetic to the pursuit of storytelling and storytellers – I’ve been there, felt that – and I’m rooting for you from the first page.

And if this math seems to exceed 100 percent, that’s because many of these  projects had two of more of these weaknesses or symptoms screaming out at me.

Some writers will find this less than encouraging, but I didn’t create the math, it’s out there waiting for you already. 

What I have created is a way to mount a better, more empowered attack on these odds, through feedback from a professional that might just see things you can’t, don’t, or won’t.  From a guy who does this for a living, in addition to doing what you do as a writer of stories

If you’d like to see what this feedback looks like, click HERE. 

This author consented to share his Questionnaire answers, with my feedback, in the hope that others can see the upside.  Like most writers, he had a story he’d worked hard on, and believed was ready.  The news wasn’t particularly good, nor was it completely horrible… but in the end it was full of hope.  Because the story wasn’t dead, it was just in need of surgery and some new shoes.

He got it.  He’s going to fix his story.  And he’s more excited than ever. 

Because once he got over the initial jolt from the lack of affirmation he was hoping for (which is true for about 90 percent of the submissions), he quickly understood the critique, agreed with most of it, and now he’s on his way.  Informed, coached, empowered with knowledge and new ideas, and thus, better than ever.

About 19 out of 20 of my clients find themselves having the same experience. The other 1 out of 20… to be honest, I don’t know.  I don’t hear back, which could mean anything.

This could be you.  On all fronts.  At all levels of the odds.

I do know this: it’s the best investment you’ll ever find, and ever make, in your writing dream.  Even at over 10 times the price, which is what you’d need to pony up for a full manuscript analysis… which would focus on the exact same variables and qualities, and yield almost the same level and nature of feedback.

*****

Click HERE to see more on The Amazing $100 Story Coaching and Empowerment Adventure. 

I also do full manuscripts and longer partials, also at a value price – my goal is to make this accessible to every writer… email me for a quote on those.

Novelists: The Data on “Normal”… And the Path to Extraordinary is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Structure vs. Strategy — Don’t Get Mislead By Celebrity Author-Speak

I try to read all the author interviews I can get my hands on. 

Not sure why, because sometimes I find myself shaking my head in disbelief, occasionally flinging the magazine or my mouse against the nearest wall.  Because authors, even very famous ones, say some of the strangest things.

Sometimes what they say is just plain wrong.

The issue is the vernacular of our trade.  Some storytelling terms are close enough to be interchangeable (concept vs. theme, for example), but not always accurate in application, especially for those of us looking for insight into craft.

Many writers carelessly mash words like idea, concept, premise and theme interchangeably… carelessly… and yet each of these terms are separate and important issues of craft.  They don’t mean the same thing. 

The more precisely you want to hone your craft, the more you need to pay attention to this.

When Dan Brown says, for example, that his theme for The Davinci Code is a man caught up in a murder mystery going back over 2000 years (not sure he actually said that, just tossing out an example for illustration purposes), that’s a mash up of an old axiom: writers, even successful ones, don’t necessarily make great teachers. 

And, I am often reminded, vice versa.

Sometimes these writers actually don’t know the difference, like an athlete who refers to muscleclature (I’ve heard that one a lot on ESPN).  They either don’t know how they applied craft to get where they are — “I just sit down and write until I get it right, I have no idea how my stories are going to end…” (which is bull, by the way… they do know how it will end, I guarantee you, in the draft that they submit, having retrofitted that draft to be in context to this newly-discovered ending… thus rendering prior drafts part of their search for story; it all just sounds so much more mysterious and sexy and brilliant to imply they just suddenly get it at the eleventh hour of a final draft).

Here’s one that’s downright dangerous, though.

Common, too.  A case of the writer himself (it was a him that I heard do this most recently, though I’ve heard it often) not knowing the difference, but somehow navigating the story toward a successful docking with a publisher… which happens, in spite of not being able to explain how they did it with useful clarity.

The writer is talking about how they planned their story.  I like that, music to my ears.  But then he says, “I like to figure out my structure before I actually write the draft.”

Stop right there.  This could mean two things.  One of them misleading, implying the exact wrong thing, and therefore dangerous to writers who don’t know the difference between structure and strategy.

Because he could have meant to say — had he known the difference — strategy instead of using the word structure in that sentence.

First, when a writer says this, it could mean they are looking for scenes, for the content of their narrative, that fit(s) neatly into the classic four-part story paradigm (which they didn’t invent), with the proper milestones (first plot point, mid-point, second plot point) right where they should be.  Yes, that’s absolutely the right thing to do, and if that’s what he meant, then good on him.

But what if he didn’t mean that?

What if he meant he has no clue about four-part structure, and feels he needs to — that he can — invent whatever structure he wants?  This is a dangerous implication… like telling a kid who wants to get strong to start lifting weights (to achieve muscleclature) at age seven so he can grow up to be like, well, him.  Dangerous.  Naive.  Even ignorant.

Or… what if he really meant he needed to plan his narrative strategy? 

To figure out how he’s going to write his story. We all do need to do that, by the way… just don’t call it structure.   Structure is like gravity, you can’t mess with it to any degree.  And yet, how you handle it — trampoline, airplane, nine iron, ballon ride, balance beam, cliff diving… that’s all strategy.

The physics never change.  How you deal with them… that’s strategy. 

In storytelling that’s narrative strategy.

Examples of Narrative Strategy

I’ve deconstructed three major stories on this site, among others: The Davinci Code… The Help… and The Hunger Games.  Here’s proof of the principles of structure: all four had identical structural architecture.  They used the same model, the only model that works in today’s publishing world.  (If they stumbled upon it, they didn’t invent it, they had to work to get their story aligned with it.)   Four quartile-proximate parts… effective story milestones at very close to optimal location… and a contextual flow and character arc that aligned with these principles.

They were — all three of these novels and films – textbook examples of the principles of story stucture: the paradigm (which they didn’t invent) serving as the framework for their genius concepts and narrative skills. 

And… their strategies.

Did they plan this structure?  Hell no.  They used it.  They applied it.  They tapped into the principles, they optimized the story physics that those principles lead us toward.

So what if — and this didn’t happen — one of those authors said in an interview that they had to first “plan their structure?”

Could mean two things: that they indeed distributed their narrative out over this classic structural grid… or, they meant to say they “planned their narrative strategy.”

Now that’s something we can learn from. 

Because they did do just that — they had to have done that — and notice that all three books, while unfolding along the same structural paradigm, had very different narrative strategies.

So what’s the difference?

Let’s allow those stories to answer this question.

In The Davinci Code, Dan Brown told the story — he chose to tell the story — through multiple points of view, all written in classic third person omniscient narrative prose.   We were with Landgon as he discovered clues, as he ran as he uncovered a dark truth.  We were with the bad French cops as they chased him down.  We were with that albino assassin self-whipping whack-job as he received his orders and went out looking for his next victim.

This was Dan Brown’s narrative strategy.  Not his structure.  His structure was classic four-part exposition.

In The Help, Kathryn Stockett told the story through three points of view, each in the first person past tense (with a dash of present context) of three different characters.  This wasn’t structure… this was narrative strategy. 

In The Hunger Games, Suzanne Colllins used a very different strategy than the folks who made a movie out of her story.  Both, by the way, used the exact same structure, which was identical (because it’s universal) to that of The Davinci Code, The Help, Gone Girl and virtually any other bestseller you can name, even if the author can’t or won’t describe it that way.  But her narrative strategy was to tell the story in first person present through the mind of Katniss, her hero.  Not one moment from behind the curtain of her awareness was used (though it was in the film).

Strategy.  Pure narrative strategy.  In each case.  Executed across the same, identical structural grid. 

The one you and I should be using.  Always. 

Tarantino uses it.  Even if he mangles time-lines to make it look like his story is jumping all over the place.  In terms of context, it doesn’t… it’s totally in line with the principles.  Same with the film 500 Days of Summer (also deconstructed here), thje strategy of which was to sequence scenes from random days from the double-entendre titled 500 days, making it look like a structure.  But the structure was textbook four part contextual beauty.

Structure isnt something we invent. 

Structure is something we use to populate with concept, characters, theme and our beautiful, clever words.  Structure is already there, like gravity, waiting for us to harness its power.

But narrative strategy… that’s ours to decide upon.  Even to invent.  And there really are no rules for this.  Just our choices, which we must live or die with.

Do you understand the structure into which your story must fit… at least if you want it to work?  To get it published and read?

Do you have a narrative strategy in mind?  You need one.  This can be the thing that takes your story to the next level.  This, you get to invent, or adapt, or copy.  Structure… not so much.  Structure is unversal.  Your structure is already there, waiting for you to grab it and go.

Have you considered other ways of doing it, in terms of narrative strategy?  

In my best reviewed book, Bait and Switch, I took a page from Nelson Demille and mixed first person smartass POV with third person omnicisent behind-the-curtain scenes… somewhere out there my high school creative writing teacher is rolling over in her crypt.

That book is being republished in 2013, by the way, alongside three other titles from my back list, and in conjunciton with my new novel, Deadly Faux, which uses the same narrative structure as its series precurser, which is, in fact, Bait and Switch. 

Never give up.  That’s another thing that, like story structure, isn’t negotiable.

****

Interested in seeing if your story plan is solid?  Or if your draft works as well as it could?   If your story physics are optimized or lobotomized?

Would you like to spend only $100 to find out?  It’s possible, and it’s totally new and unprecedented in the story coaching realm.

Click HERE to see how this happens. 

 

Structure vs. Strategy — Don’t Get Mislead By Celebrity Author-Speak is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

A Good Day to be a Writer… Part Deux

(The post below went out yesterday.  The photo above… didn’t.   A tech glitch… WordPress doesn’t like pasted-in photos, which was my only option since my shiney new iPad won’t allow me to download the required WordPress app… because Apple tells me that my password isn’t valid, even after I’ve changed it FOUR times on THEIR form.  If anybody can explain that one to me, I’m all ears.  Meanwhile — I get this isn’t exactly a career-changing post — but I wanted to finish this.  For those of you who think I may be completely void of personality.  More content soon.  L.)

This has been my office for the past week.  Really.

That’s my foot, in fact.

From this position — on Kauai, at the Princeville Westin Villas — I’ve delivered eight story evaluations for my new short-form story coaching program… polished over a hundred pages from my new writing book (that’s a placeholder cover on Amazon, by the way), which is due at the end of the month… wrote three chapters on a new project (a book about bliss within relationships… or not)… booked another webinar for Writers Digest University (for October 18, look for more on that soon)… finalized content for a workshop to be held in Portland, Oregon on November 10th (you’re invited, click HERE for more)…

… and it still feels like a vacation.

I write a lot – too much in the view of some – about how hard this is, or can be if we fight off what works in favor of what comes more naturally (by the way, that’s what wrecks a lot of relationships, too).  So I wanted to share this, just to say…

… I love this job.  Most of the time.

A Good Day to be a Writer… Part Deux is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Sometimes It’s Good to be a Writer

This has been my office for the past week.  Really.

That’s my foot, in fact.

From this position — on Kauai, at the Princeville Westin Villas — I’ve delivered eight story evaluations for my new story coaching program… polished over a hundred pages from my new writing book, which delivers at the end of the month… wrote three chapters on a new project (a book about bliss within relationships… or not)… booked another webinar for Writers Digest University (for October 18, look for more on that soon)… finalized content for a workshop to be held in Portland, Oregon on November 10th (you’re invited, click HERE for more)…

… and it still feels like a vacation.

I write a lot – too much in the view of some – about how hard this is, or can be if we fight off what works in favor of what comes more naturally (by the way, that’s what wrecks a lot of relationships, too).  So I wanted to share this, just to say…

… I love this job.  Most of the time.

Times like this:

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Sometimes It’s Good to be a Writer is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com