Author Archives: Melanie Anne Phillips

The Dramatica Table of Story Elements is a Model of the Mind

The Dramatica Table of Story Elements is really a model of the mind. Twisting and turning it represents the kinds of stress (and experience) we encounter in everyday life. Sometimes things get wound up as tight as they can – so tight they get snarled and can’t loosen up on their own. And this is where a story always starts. Anything before that point is backstory – how things got wound up in the first place. Anything after that point is story, which is about how external events work to sever the Gordian Knot in one’s thinking that can’t be untied by oneself.

dramatica-chart-3d

Narrative Psychology: To Know Oneself

We all have certain fundamental broad-stroke mental traits such as Reason, Initiative, and Skepticism. As individuals, we use the full spectrum of these tools to try and solve our problems. But when we get together in groups, we quickly self-organize so that one person emerges as the Voice of Reason for the group, another as the Goal-Oriented Leader, and another as the Resident Skeptic.

We specialize in this manner because when trying to solve a group problem or advance a group agenda, we are far more productive together is we each focus on just one of these fundamental tools rather than being a collection of general practitioners all trying to do all the jobs. In this manner, the group gets far greater thought, depth, and action in each area, and then we come together to share with the group what we have found in our area – to say, “this is what it looks like from here.”

In short, the group becomes a model of the individual mind, since that is exactly what we do as individuals, but now each of our attributes has become an archetypal role in a group narrative.

And that is where archetypes really come from – not the collective unconscious per se, nor from myth nor dreams, but simply from the attributes that are common to us all.

So in a sense, the narrative of an individual, and the narrative of a group are the same system at work at two different fractal dimensions.

And each of these has identical structural elements and dynamics.

And yet, the purposes of the group, though shared by each individual in the group, may sometimes come into conflict with a given member’s individual purposes. In fact, all the conflict and tension that is generated in stories and in life come from the dissonance between the needs of the individual and the needs of the group.

The Dramatica model presents this elegantly. The structural model you see can be the mind of one person or the collective mind of a group. It is the same structure, interpreted in two different ways.

When we look at the four levels of the structure as if it were a group mind, we see (from the bottom up) motivations, evaluations, methods, and purposes. When we look at the same four levels as a group mind we see Characters, Theme, Plot and Genre.

The Dramatica twists and turns like a Rubik’s cube, but not arbitrarily. Rather, there are two “justification wind-ups” – essentially two sets of dynamics that torque the structure, twisting it into a position that best fits that mind to its environment. One of these is the Main Character wind-up – representing the compromises he or she has had to make in their outlook to get by in the world and the other is the Objective Story wind-up, which represents the compromises a group mind has had to make to survive. In fact, it is these compromises that determine personality – all the attractions and repulsions based on our unbalanced minds.

And so, to truly understand one’s personal narrative, one must become aware of how the naturally balanced and neutral mind that exist only conceptually differs from the dynamic tensions that are self-perpetuating within ourselves.

In real life we have hundreds of narratives in which we participate, sometimes as the main character and sometimes as one of the archetypes in a larger group mind.

In the end, as complex as this view of the mind is, it all boils down to the fact that once you learn about the equations that generate Dramatica’s quads and the dynamic algorithms that drive the justification wind-ups, you lose the ability to lie to yourself. You can still choose to lie to others, of course, and you can still do terrible things to others, but you will no longer be able to see it as good in your own mind.

To know Dramatica at the core of its representation of human psychology is see the real reasons for your actions and attitudes, whether you want to or not. And I suppose that is the most accurate form of self-knowledge we are allowed in this world.

Melanie Anne Phillips
Co-creator, Dramatica

If you don’t have this, YOUR STORY WILL FAIL

If you don’t have this, YOUR STORY WILL FAIL

This video really illustrates the philosophical conflict between the Main Character and the Influence Character, which is the heart of your story’s message.

Once you have viewed the video, note that one says “we’re just alike” and the other says, “we’re nothing alike.” How can they be so blind to the other character’s point of view? Because it is like one saying, “we’re alike because we are both fruit” and the other saying, “we’re nothing alike because you are an apple and I am an orange.”

You see, they are BOTH right, depending on the context. So the real philosophical argument is actually over which of the two contexts is the most truthful or the best way of looking at their relationship and by extension of looking at life. THAT is the theme of the whole story, and the message is which way you, the author, “proves” is best.

What is Narrative?

Narrative is not an artificial construct imposed on fiction nor on the real world, but it is a description of the ways of the mind beneath the level of subject matter. In a sense, narrative describes the operating system of the mind before a program is loaded.

As an example, consider that we all possess certain fundamental human qualities such as a sense of Reason, Conscience, and Skepticism to name a few. When faced with problems or inequities in our own lives, we bring all of these qualities to bear in order to seek a solution to the problem and/or see balance to an inequity.

When we come together in groups around a issue of common interest or a common purpose, we quickly self-organize into specialties so that one of use becomes the Voice of Reason for the group, while another becomes the Conscience of the group and yet another emerges at the Resident Skeptic, for example.

This occurs because the group purpose is best served when one person spends all his or her time delving deeply into the issue from the viewpoint of Reason while another focuses solely on examining the issue with Skepticism. Then, we come together to report our findings. In this way, the group sees far deeper into the issue that if we all worked as we do on our own problems, as General Practitioners, each trying to do all the same jobs everyone else is doing.

Something wonderful happened when storytellers sought to understand what goes on in our own hearts and minds and what goes on with our collective interactions. Over hundreds of generations, storytellers (through trial and error) were able to document the patterns of group thought and individual thought and embed them in the conventions of story structure.

Narrative then, is not a linear path of logic as in Joseph Campbell’s “Hero’s Journey,” but it is fractal in nature. The group mind is identical in components and operation to that of the individual mind, just one fractal dimension larger than that of the individual.

This is why story structure was not previously decipherable – you can’t explain a nonlinear system with a linear paradigm.

The archetypes in stories are derived from these roles we adopt in the group mind which in turn represent our own internal qualities. And so, the group mind provides a visible working model of the mind, just as in my youth the Visible Man model showed our internal organs beneath a transparent plastic “Skin.”

Archetypes, then, represent our fundamental qualities and the group mind is an external fractal projection of the operating system of our own internal minds. The group mind (we call it the Story Mind, hence the name of my web site) is not Jung’s collective unconscious, though it is similar in that it the systemic functioning of our minds that we all share in identically as human beings. And archetypes are not mythological, as in Campbell, but are personifications of our internal attributes as expressed through the avatar roles we adopt when we organize as specialists within a group.

In closing, suffice it to say that through narrative, we are able to look into the structure and dynamics of the group mind and see the structure and dynamics within ourselves. And, as a result, narrative holds the key to understanding why we think and feel as we do, and provides the methods and techniques that can solve both our external problems and internal inequities.

Writing a Saul to Paul Story

A writer recently asked:

I am writing a Saul-to-Paul story whereby my protagonist begins the story with one goal in mind (i.e., persecution of a particular people on behalf of a dictator), but at some point through the story, he is persuaded to switch sides and overthrow the dictator.

Should my storyform reflect my protagonist’s initial goal or his later goal?

My reply:

It is important to separate the Main Character’s journey of growth from the protagonist’s journey to achieve a goal, even if a single character is both Main Character and Protagonist.

What changes in a Saul to Paul story is the Main Character’s attitude as to what is right and what is wrong.

In this case, the goal might be to do what is right, and his idea of “right” is what changes, but his goal to do “right” does not.

Melanie
Storymind.com

Back to Work, Writers!

BACK TO WORK, WRITERS!

Yes, writing is work. Though sometimes in the thrill of inspiration the process can be an amusement park of experiences, more often it is frustration, drudgery and stress. Over the years I’ve found that most of my clients for story consultation are looking for a silver bullet – some sort of creative elixir that throws open the floodgates of inspiration so that ideas just spill out all over their stories. And when they discover that while I can provide techniques to get their Muse in gear and insights to keep them on a good story development course, they are disappointed – no, perhaps “deflated” is a better word. Getting them over that hump and down to the serious business of writing is always the first priority. Quite honestly, some of them can’t make that climb – the hill is just too high. So, they turn away from that path and instead spend hundreds and often thousand of dollars on every patent medicine every snake oil story guru has to offer. Now to be sure, most teachers of story aren’t charlatans. And most aren’t gurus either. Rather, each has found some small “t” truth that works for them and they offer it up to any others it might help. But one size never fits all, so whatever one is hawking, there’s only a percentage of the flock who need your particular brand of wool curler. There is a big “T” truth out there to be sure, but as zen would have it, the tao that can be spoken is not the Eternal Tao – meaning that you can’t have your cake and eat it too. In other words, either it is teachable or it is Truth. So as you go back to work, you writers, you, consider that there is no single source for enlightenment, no special knowledge that turns work into play, and no silver bullet that severs the ties that bind better than a healthy amount of mental elbow grease to ease the friction of untying the damn thing.

Melanie Anne Phillips

Storymind.com

How to Grow a Sentence into a Story

Start with any sentence in your text, be it back story, something about your character or plot or even the outline of a scene.

Example: The dog ran over the hedge.

Now, ask as many intelligent, relevant questions about that sentence as you can (within reason).

Example: What kind of dog? How old is the dog? Does the dog have any physical deformities? What color is the dog? Does the dog have fleas? Does the dog have a collar? How fast was the dog running? Where did we first see the dog? Was it running then, or did it start? Why was the dog running (did it see something)? Was it running at something or away from something or just running? Was it running in a straight line? Did it have to jump to get over the hedge? How far above the hedge was it? Was it more like running through the hedge, than over it? What kind of plant is the hedge? How tall it is? How thick is it? Does the hedge look healthy and well-watered? Is the hedge trimmed and neat or unruly? What is the shape of the hedge? How wide is the hedge from side to side? Where is the hedge – a yard, an open field, between two walls in the inner city? Is the hedge on private property, and if so, what kind? Is the hedge flowering? Are there any bugs in or around the hedge? Is there anything hiding in the hedge? Are there any other dogs running? Are there any other animals or people present? How long does the dog run for? What happens when he stops?

Okay, you get the idea. By actually writing down these questions, rather than just trying to hold them in my head, I can now go back to each one and consider it separately, as one more potential piece of information to add to my original text.

Now if I have the answer right up front, already devised, or if it just comes to me as soon as I ask the question, then I can just add that answer right into to my text.

Example: What kind of dog? A Sheltie. Revised original sentence, “The Sheltie ran over the hedge.”

Now, a different vision comes to mind when the sentence is read and it alters the reader experience as well as enriching the story-in-progress.

But, if you don’t have an answer in mind, then let your Muse run wild and come up with a bunch of different answers, again within reason, so that you can then pick among the options for the most interesting choice.

Example: What kind of dog? Sheltie, Beagle, Bull Dog, Pit Bull, Poodle.

Now I have a choice, and each different option creates a completely different mind-picture and also leads the story into slightly different directions. So, I just pick the one I want to use and put that in the story.

Example, What kind of dog? A Pit Bull. Revised original sentence, “The Pit Bull ran over the hedge.”

Now this sentences takes on a whole different flavor than “The Sheltie ran over the hedge,” and it also provides more information and a deeper reader experience than, “The dog ran over the hedge.”

Last point – after you have answered all the questions and then revised your original sentence accordingly, you’ll probably find you have a paragraph of many sentences about that little bit of action. If that is enough development, you stop there. But if you still thinks your story still needs more richness and detail, then simply take each sentence of the newly revised version and start asking questions again. Go back and forth as many times as you need to expand any part of your story as far as you want it to go.

It is a simple technique, but a sure-fire powerful one. Just by taking the process out of your head and writing it down, question by question and answer by answer, your mind becomes clear, your Muse becomes free, and your story grows in leaps and bounds.

The Master Storyteller Method

Master StorytellerThe Master Storyteller Method has four parts:

Part One: Create A Story World

What is a story world? Think: the world of Harry Potter or the Star Wars universe. Whether you are planning a single story or a whole series, creating a diverse and detailed story world will enrich and inform each story you draw from it.

Part Two: Draw Out Your Storyline

While a story world describes the environment, situation, and issues that will define your story, it is not a story itself. Drawing on this material, you will create a storyline for your Main Character / Protagonist that will begin with something that upsets the status quo, follows a quest (both personal and logistic) and concludes with a choice that will determine success or failure.

Part Three: Incorporate Story Points

Though your storyline may make sense and feel as it it touches all the bases, often a number of important story points may be missing, hidden behind the passion of your storytelling and vision. Here you will refer to a complete list of essential story points ranging from the goal of the protagonist to the issue at the heart of the story’s moral dilemma to ensure that every crucial dramatic element is not only included, but fully integrated into the natural flow of your story.

Part Four:  Refine Your Structure

Even if you have every essential story point represented, it does not necessarily mean that they are all working together toward the same dramatic purpose. In this part of the Master Storyteller Method, you’ll plot your story points against a unique structural template to determine where some of your dramatic elements may be working against each other or where holes and inconsistencies in your structure may exist. You’ll have the opportunity to choose which story points you’d like to adjust to make your story more structurally sound and which you wish to leave as they are because they work so well as is at a passionate level.

By the time you have completed the Master Story Method, your story will be passionately expressive and structurally sound. Your characters will be compelling, your plot riveting, your them involving, and your genre not quite like any other.