Story: Style, Structure, Substance, and the Principles of Screenwriting

by Robert McKee

Artists master the form.

The archetypal story unearths a universally human experience, then wraps itself inside a unique, culture-specific expression.

The writer, fearing his story’s limited appeal, resorts to the familiar settings, characters, and actions that have pleased audiences in the past.

An archetypal story creates settings and characters so rare that our eyes feast on every detail, while its telling illuminates conflicts so true to humankind that it journeys from culture to culture.

Like Pascal, screenwriters learn that economy is key, that brevity takes time, that excellence means perseverance.

The camera is the dread X-ray machine of all things false. It magnifies life many times over, then strips naked every weak or phony story turn, until in confusion and frustration we’re tempted to quit.

Secure writers don’t sell first drafts. They patiently rewrite until the script is as director-ready, as actor-ready as possible.

Unfinished work invites tampering, while polished, mature work seals its integrity.

When talented people write badly it’s generally for one of two reasons: Either they’re blinded by an idea they feel compelled to prove or they’re driven by an emotion they must express.

When talented people write well, it is generally for this reason: They’re moved by a desire to touch the audience.

The audience is not only amazingly sensitive, but as it settles into a darkened theatre its collective IQ jumps twenty-five points.

Content (setting, characters, ideas) and form (selection and arrangement of events) require, inspire, and mutually influence one another.