Write Your Novel Step by Step (Part 6)

Finding the Holes

In Step 5, you created your first comprehensive description of what your story is about – who’s in it, what happens to them, what it all means, and the story world in which it all takes place.

In this step you’ll take a new look at this synopsis to find holes in your story – dramatic elements that are either missing or inconsistent with one another.

For a moment, step out of your role as author, and put yourself in the position of your reader or audience.  Read over your story synopsis from Step 5.  If something doesn’t make sense, is off kilter, or missing, make a note of it.

List each point in the form of a question, as this tends to help you focus in on exactly what is needed to fix the problem.

When you have finished your novel, your audience will be unforgiving, so be harsh now!  Don’t gloss over problems, but don’t try to solve them either.  That comes later.

For now, just ask questions about everything that bothers you about your story from an audience perspective, as if you were reading someone else’s description of their story rather than your own.

If push comes to shove and you are just too close to your story to see many problems with it, share your synopsis with friends, family or fellow writers.

Don’t ask them what they think of it – they’ll always pull their punches to be kind.  Instead, just tell them to write down any questions they have about your story that weren’t answered in the synopsis – anything they didn’t quite understand or found confusing.

Having them state these issues as questions will get you a far better result than just asking their opinion, for they would really like to know the answers.   Friends and family are especially much more likely to be frank if they are just asking questions rather than criticizing.

Using the example below (based on the Snow Sharks example synopsis provided for Step 5) pick your synopsis apart as thoroughly as you can jotting down every question about it that comes to mind.

Example:

Questions About Snow Sharks

From the synopsis:

The government has been developing a new breed of shark that lives in snow rather than water for use as mobile land mines in places such as Siberia or the Arctic.

Questions:

  1. What branch of the government is involved?
  2. Is this sanctioned or rogue?
  3. Who is/are the scientists behind this?
  4. How long has this program been going on?
  5. How close are they to a final “product?”
  6. Do the sharks breathe air?
  7. Do they require cold (can they live in heat)?

From the synopsis:

A transport plane carrying them crashes in a storm high in the Rocky Mountains. 

Questions:

  1. What kind of plane?
  2. How many sharks was it carrying?
  3. Do they all survive?
  4. Where was the transport taking the sharks?
  5. Why couldn’t they wait until after the storm?
  6. How many crewmembers are on board?
  7. What are their jobs?
  8. Do they know what they are carrying?
  9. Do any survive?

10. If so, do the sharks kill all the survivors?

11. Is there anything in the wreckage that reveals the cargo, its nature and who is behind it?

12. Is the crew able to contact their command center before crashing?

13. Are they able to convey their location?

14. Is there a rescue beacon?

15. Does the plane carry a “black box.”

Using this example as a guide, separate your entire Step 5 synopsis into short sections (as above) and then come up with as many questions as you can (within reason) about each section.

Next, in Step 7, we’ll take each question, one at a time, and generate several potential answers that would satisfy them, thereby expanding and enriching your evolving story, even while you fill its holes and fix its inconsistencies.

This article is based on  our StoryWeaver Step-by-Step Story Development Software that guides you through more than 200 interactive Story Cards from concept to completion of your novel or screenplay.  Just $29.95 for Windows or Macintosh.

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The False Narrative

A false narrative is one in which a complete narrative pattern is perceived in a given situation, but it is not an actual narrative at work in the situation.  The perception of a false narrative can be due to insufficient or inaccurate information or to insufficient or inaccurate assessment.  The creation of a false narrative can be due to naturally occurring narrative patterns, transient contextual framing, inadvertent presentation or intentional deception.

Perception of False Narratives

Insufficient Information:

Like an iceberg, many of the elements of any given real-world narrative are often hidden from view, beneath the surface or around the corner.  Because narratives are fractal in nature, a portion of a larger narrative may appear to be complete in and of itself, much as a corner cut from a hologram will still present a complete image, just not from all angles that are available in the whole.  So, while the pattern of a narrative may be present, it may not be driven by its own internal dynamics, but by those of a larger narrative of which it is a part.

Inaccurate Information:

Narratives do not exist in a vacuum.  Rather, an infinite number of narratives are continually moving through the same narrative space, sometimes hinged, sometimes colliding, sometimes drawing each other off true by their contextual influence, sometimes passing each other without affect.

When there is some contextual effect, all narratives involved in this connection are warped by the presence of the others, leading to a lens-like phenomenon in which some elements are emphasized or deemphasized, or in the most severe instances may be completely hidden or may not really exist at all as they are no more than virtual images of no substance, established solely by the collective influence of the elements from other surrounding narratives.

Insufficient Assessment:

In social psychology the term fundamental attribution error describes a cognitive bias in which an individual interprets another person’s actions as driven primarily by intent while deemphasizing or disregarding any external or environmental conditions which may have influenced their actions.

Inaccurate Assessment:

The opposite bias is the actor-observor error in which an individual overemphasizes the impact of external factors on his or her own actions.  These two varieties of the human desire to find meaning illustrate that meaning is not so much found as imposed.  In fact, either of these biases generates a false narrative.

Creation of False Narratives

Naturally Occurring Narrative Patterns:

The human mind seeks meaning in its environment by imposing templates upon its perception until a pattern is found that, for desired purposes, fits observation sufficiently.  A byproduct of this attribute is that we see animals in clouds, gods in constellations, images in ink blots and narratives in random elements.  As a result, we continually create  false narratives which appear to be supported by the situations that surround us, rejecting them only when the course of events diverges from narrative prediction.

Transient Contextual Framing:

No narrative is forever.  As long as it maintains itself as an internally driven confluence of structure and dynamics, it may be perceived as a closed system, constant in its function.  In other words, a true narrative maintains its identity through internal mechanisms.  Conversely, a false narrative may appear internally driven when, in fact, it is externally maintained by forces outside the apparent narrative, like a puppet on a string.  Such an apparent narrative provides neither an accurate description of the nature of the elements it contains, nor accurately predicts the course they will actually take.

Inadvertent Presentation:

Any narrative element, by itself, may have an infinite number of meanings.  It is only when it is taken in conjunction with other elements that the range of possible meanings for that element becomes constrained.  Eventually, sufficient interconnections among elements may be established to limit the potential meanings to the singular.

If, however, the initial element is misinterpreted in meaning, than each succeeding element may be cast into a another misinterpretation by the observer in the attempt to make it fit with the initial interpretation.  Individuals who do not provide sufficient ongoing clarification may inadvertently present a false narrative.  Individuals who do not intend to present a narrative may inadvertently present information that may be taken as one.

Intentional Deception:

False narratives may be created with the intent to deceive  by limiting the number of narrative elements provided so that the observer completes the bulk of the narrative themselves, thereby taking ownership of the narrative by personalizing it.  This can be accomplished by limiting the scope of information available and/or the time in which to consider it.  In this manner, the author establishes a constrained narrative space in which both content and context are controllable to a desired effect.

In Conclusion

In the end, no single narrative is ever completely true or completely false, except within the constraints of  a specified span of time and scope of .  As the philosopher David Hume  defined truth, while it works, it is truth, when it fails to work it is no longer truth.  Eastern philosophy holds that the Tao that can be spoken is not the eternal Tao, meaning that no truth can ever be so fully defined as to be universal Truth.  Zen professes that you cannot step into the same river twice, and American slang proclaims “that was then, this is now.”

Ultimately, rather than focusing solely on truth, awareness of the value and function of false narratives opens new perspectives by which one may become liberated from a singular point of view so that any consideration might be more flexible in the knowledge that while one narrative may appear to be definitive, there may be others which, even if in complete apparent contradiction with one another, may all, in fact, be equally and simultaneously both true and false.

The Authorless Narrative

Not every narrative has an author. Just as art may be in the eye of the beholder, the existence of a narrative may be in the eye of the observer.

We are all pattern makers. This is evident in everything from ink blot tests to seeing figures in constellations, faces in wood grain and images in clouds. The patterns we make and how we come to make them are reflective of the perspectives and processes of our own minds.

We project these patterns on the external world in the attempt to better understand and predict it.  Therefore, the patterns we see in the real world tell us as much about ourselves as about our environment.

Fictional narratives are our attempt to document the nature and essence of the way people think, feel, and interact as determined through observation and internal exploration.

Real world narratives are the patterns and systems into which we organize our thoughts, feelings our relationships with others, as evidenced through the patterns and systems we create.

Though one might expect all fictional narratives to be intentional, consider sub-text and patterns of meaning that illuminate the nature of the author, but were unintentional and unseen by the author in the process of creation.

A single work, be it a simple tale, a fully argued story, a song ballad or stage play, may have many multiple narratives operating in the same narrative space simultaneously.  Individual readers or audience members may tune into several, many or none of these additional narratives beyond the principal intended ones.

A good example of this would be a story that was taken very seriously by the author, but strikes most of the audience as laughable – a comedy in fact.  And, what’s more, the audience may actually believe that the work was intended as a comedy, though that could be diametrically opposed to the intent of the author.  What is a passionately argued point of view to the author may appear as simple pandering or propaganda to an audience.

In fact, two different audiences may interpret a given work’s narrative meaning differently, as experienced by stage actors whose performance as a company may be virtually identical from show to show, but is received completely differently by each audience that enters the theater.

Further, contextual changes in the real world may cast a narrative into a different meaning than its initial impact, or may even appear to reflect a different author’s intent.

In the real world, when people gather together for a common interest or purpose, they self-organize into a narrative pattern.  For example, we each possess reason and also skepticism.  These qualities are part of a palette of human traits we bring to bear in the making of narrative patterns.

When we assemble, we  tend to specialize with each individual focusing on applying one of our problem solving methods, rather than having a collection of people all acting as general practitioners.  In this way, each specialist is able to delve deeper into the method they fulfill as they do not have to consider the others more than superficially.

An automatic byproduct of specialization is that each individual comes to represent a different aspect of the mind so that, as a group, they form a representation of a single mind in which each attribute has been made tangible and incarnate in one of the members.

It is this self-organizing principal and this externally projected model of the mind that was observed, documented and refined by hundreds of generations of storytellings until they became fixed in the conventions of narrative structure.

To the point of this article, since there is seldom, if ever, a conscious decision among the members of a newly formed group to organize themselves into a model of the mind the narrative patterns they form are authorless.

Certainly, the study and application of narrative is a popular endeavor of any larger organization these days, and justifiably so.  But the understanding of narrative is as a story, not as a self-organizing principal of society based on replication of internal patterns of psychology in an individual.

Let us then consider that when several narrative groups come together toward a common interest or purpose, the groups themselves will self-organize into a larger narrative – a fractal of the structural/dynamic patterns of each individual group.  Each group, then, become a character in the larger narrative, just as each individual in a single group is a character within that narrative.  This fractal replication may continue infinitely up one fractal dimension to the next until the very nations of the earth are acting a characters within a single global narrative.  I call this fractal psychology.

As each individual, group or group of groups operates, there are many free agents in the social petri dish who form the analog medium in which each narrative resonates.  Just as there may be two colonies of bacteria in a single dish or growth medium, there may be two social narratives in the same social venue or environment.

These multiple authorless narratives may stand alone and separate so that they do not interfere with or influence each other, or they may touch edges, overwhelm one another, combine, join together as members of a larger narrative, cancel each other out, or pass through each other like colliding galaxies traveling from here to there and sharing the same space, but never or rarely having any direct interaction or collision among their members.

Narratives, like galaxies or atoms are mostly open space.  Though they may rarely interact directly, each element of a narrative possesses some degree of the equivalent of gravitational pull and momentum so that, both as it components and as a whole, a narrative extends beyond its borders to exert social influence even where it has no actual connection.

Further, each element of a narrative may, in fact, be a member of another or several other narratives, so that each of us has many stories in our lives built around each individual relationship and function, be it as a parent, employee or club member.

It is the complex influences of the multiple magnitude overlapping narratives in any given social space the creates complex interference patterns as they operate, much like several stones dropped into a pond a the same time.

Some of these influences create standing waves of various durations: peaks, the shorter being thought of as memes and the longer being thought of as social conventions.  Similarly, there are troughs which become temporary social dead zones or transient restrictions of law, and in longer form fossilize into taboos.

But most important of all, because we (as both individuals and collectively as groups) create patterns, even from chaos (as in clouds and constellations), we seek to impose narrative forms on the peaks and troughs to find meaning that will provide understanding and prediction – a natural survival technique.

Though truly chaotic, the conjunction of the undulating influences of multiple narratives in a social space does create momentary truths that effectively represent the collection impact of all operating systems within the space, though the accuracy and duration of these truths varies.  And so, meta-narrative forms may be perceived that, though they have no author, still provide an organizing matrix for immediate decisions.

In addition, the manner in which the nature of an imposed narrative changes in the endless flux of the multi-narrative influences in the medium of the social environment may indicate collective inertia and collective acceleration, deceleration, sharpening or defocusing of narrative elements, not to mention the overall course and course-changes of the imposed narrative pattern.

And , since the human mind, and therefore the narrative mind, possess both a binary logical understanding derived from our neural networks and a passionate drive derived from the analog standing wave undulations of our own biochemistry projected into the personal interactions within the open space of a social group narrative group, narratives are imposed/perceived upon chaos both in reason and emotion and call us to action both in our individual and collective heads and hearts.

Finally, as we all (individuals and groups) have a conscious mind as well as memory, sub-conscious and pre-conscious filters, narratives may be imposed at any or all of these levels of consideration, and therefore acted upon both in calculated and responsive manners, both cognitively and affectively.

And so, the very fabric of culture truly has no author, for it is neither intended nor directed.  Yet ultimately, the broadest of these perceived narrative patterns are far beyond our ability to grasp in their entirety, and are therefore felt to possess universal truth, while the  perpetrator of these trans-human authorless narratives is assumed to be a deity.

Dramatica Trivia 3: The Contagonist Archetype

“Contagonist” is a name invented by Dramatica co-creator, Chris Huntley, to describe an archetype we hadn’t seen identified in our writing classes at USC.  Learn how the notion and the name came about:

When creating the Dramatica theory of story, we began with characters – archetypes to be specific.  We jotted down all the familiar ones – Protagonist, Antagonist, Reason, Emotion, Sidekick, Skeptic and Guardian.  But we had a problem…

First of all they all paired up except the Guardian: Protagonist/Antagonist, Reason/Emotion, Sidekick/Skeptic (faithful supporter / doubting opposer).  But the Guardian (essentially a helper/protector who is also the voice of conscience) just hung out there alone.

We suspected that stories had symmetry (though we didn’t know for sure and none of our instructors had ever said anything about that).  But, we really didn’t know what this character should be, or what to call it.

But, we were initially deriving our archetypes from the original Star Wars movie (episode IV) and saw that Protagonist/Antagonist were Luke/Darth (or so we initially thought).  Reason/Emotion were Leia/Chewbacca, Sidekick/Skeptic were the Droids/Han Solo and the Guardian was Obi Wan.

But then, if Darth was the antagonist, what role did the empire under the command of the Gran Mof Tarkin play?  After giving it much thought, we realized that while Darth comes off, especially in the opening scene, as the quintessential melodramatic villain, he is quickly relegated to the role of henchman for the Empire.

So, at first, we thought that the last archetype was Henchman.  But after more thought, we realized that a Henchman was more like a Sidekick to a Villain.  But after even more thought we determined that there was only one Sidekick, but he might be associated with either the Hero or the Villain.  For example, Renfield (Dracula’s assistant) is actually a Sidekick (a faithful supporter) even though he works for the bad guy.  And so, we concluded that a henchman was just a Sidekick in wolf’s clothing.

But then we realized that Darth wasn’t just a pain in the neck to our heroes, but he was also a thorn in the side of Tarkin and the Empire.  Darth chokes one of the other commanders and he is the one who comes up with the plan to let the Millennium Falcon escape with a homing beacon, which leads to the demise of the Death Star (“I’m taking an awful chance, Vader,” says Tarkin.  “This had better work,” indicating it is Darth’s idea.)

So, if Darth screws up both sides, we realized he was similar to the archetype of the Trickster.  But, he also represented the dark side of the force – the temptation of the dark side.

And then we had it.  Darth was actually the opposite of Obi Wan.  Rather than functioning as Obi Wan’s help and conscience, Darth represented hinder and temptation – the exat opposites.  So Obi Wan /Darth represented a pair of archetypes, completing the symmetry of that part of story structure.

But – what to call that character?  He wasn’t really a trickster, but more like a monkey wrench in the plans of both sides.  And, he was also the tempter.   So, Chris considered that this new archetype was against both the Protagonist and the Antagonist, and cleverly named him the Contagonist.  Con (against) Protagonist/Antagonist: Contagonist.

Since then (some 22 years ago as of this writing), I’ve seen the word creep into a number of literary discussions on the Internet that don’t mention Dramatica at all.  So, I suppose that’s a good indicator it is becoming part of the overall language of story.

Now, if only my spell checker would recognize it!

Melanie Anne Phillips
Co-creator, Dramatica

50 Sure-Fire Storytelling Tricks! (Trick 5)

(Excerpted from the book, 50 Sure-First Storytelling Tricks)

Trick 5

Building Importance (Changing Impact)

In this technique, things not only appear more or less important, but actually become so. This was a favorite of Hitchcock in such films as North By Northwest and television series like MacGuyver. In an episode of The Twilight Zone, for example, Mickey Rooney plays a jockey who gets his wish to be big, only to be too large to run the race of a lifetime.

Don’t wait!  Get all 50 tips right now!

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50 Sure-Fire Storytelling Tricks! (Cover - Create Space 2)

“Hero” is a Four-Letter Word (Part 3)

Excerpted from “Hero” is a Four-Letter Word

Redistributing the Hero

In part 2, we split the hero down into its component structural and storytelling elements.  But why would one want to do such a thing?  In this part, we provide a well-known example of how the components of the hero can be reassembled in different combinations to create a powerful dramatic impact.

In the classic story of racial prejudice, To Kill a Mockingbird, the Protagonist function and the Main Character View are separated into two different characters, rather than into a single hero.

The Protagonist is Atticus, played by Gregory Peck in the movie version. Atticus is a principled Southern lawyer in the 1930s who is assigned to defend a black man wrongly accused of raping a white girl. His goal is to ensure justice is done, and he is the Prime Mover in this endeavor.

But we do not stand in Atticus’ shoes. Rather, the story is told through the eyes of Scout, his young daughter, who observers the workings of prejudice from a child’s innocence.

Why not make Atticus a typical hero who is also the Main Character? First, Atticus sticks by his principles regardless of the dangers and pressures brought to bear. If he had represented the audience position, the audience/reader would have felt quite self-righteous throughout the story’s journey.

But there is even more advantage to splitting these qualities between two characters. Here’s how it works, step by step:  First, the audience identifies with Scout. And we share her fear of the local boogey man known as Boo Radley – a monstrous mockery of human form who forms the stuff of local terror stories. All the kids know about Boo, and though we never see him, we hear their tales of his horrible ways.

At the end of the story, it turns out that Boo is just a gentle giant, a normal man with a kind heart but low intellect. As was the custom in that age, his parents kept him indoors, inside the basement of the house, leaving him pale and scary-looking due to the lack of sunlight. But Boo ventures out at night, leading to the false but horrible stories about him when he is occasionally sighted.

As it happens, Scout’s life is threatened by the father of the girl who was ostensibly raped in an attempt to get back at Atticus. Lo and behold, it is Boo who comes to her rescue. In fact, he has always been working behind the scenes to protect the children and is not at all the horrible monster they all presupposed.

In a moment of revelation, we, the audience, come to realize we have been cleverly manipulated by the author to share Scout’s initial prejudice against Boo. Rather than feeling self-righteous by identifying with Atticus, we have been led to realize that we are just as capable of prejudice as the obviously misguided adults we have been observing.

The message of the story is that prejudice does not have to come from meanness, but will happen within the heart of anyone who passes judgment based on hearsay rather than direct knowledge. This statement could never have been successfully made if the elements of the typical hero had all been placed in Atticus.

So, the message here is that there is nothing wrong with writing about heroes and villains, but it is limiting. By separating the components of the hero into individual qualities, we open our options to a far greater number of dramatic scenarios that are far less stereotypical. 

Are there more ways to split up the stereotypical hero and redistribute his traits?  Absolutely!  But to explore these, we first need to take apart our villain as well.

“Hero” is available for Kindle

Hero

Narrative Dynamics (Part 4)

Excerpted from the book, Narrative Dynamics

The Dramatica Model

In this book, I’m documenting the development of a whole new side of the Dramatica theory – story dynamics.

Dramatica is a model of story structure, but unlike any previous model, the structure is flexible like a Rubik’s Cube crossed with a Periodic Table of Story Elements.  If you paste a story element name on each face of each little cube that makes up the Rubik’s Cube, you get an idea of how flexible the Dramatica model is.

That’s what sets Dramatica apart from other systems of story development and also what gives it form without formula.  Now, imagine that while the elements on each little cube already remain on that cube, they don’t have to stay on the same face.  In other words, though there will be an element on each face, which ones it is next to may change, in fact will change from story to story.

What makes the elements rearrange themselves within the structure?  Narrative Dynamics.  Think of each story point as a kind of topic that needs to be explored to fully understand the problem or issue at the heart of a story.  That’s how an author makes a complete story argument.  But, just as in real life, the order in which we explore issues is almost as important as the issues themselves.  At the very least, that sequence tells us a lot about the person doing the exploring.  In the case of story, this is most clearly seen in the Main Character.  So, the order of exploration of the issues by the Main Character illuminate what is driving him personally.

The Dramatica model already includes a number of dynamics that describe the forces at work in the heart and mind of the Main Character, as well as of the overall story, the character philosophically opposed to the Main Character and of the course of their relationship as well.  But, in a structural model – one in which the focus is on the topics and their sequence, there are a lot of dynamics that simply aren’t easily seen.

For example, you might know that in the second act, the Main Character is going to be dealing with issues pertaining to his memories.  But how intensely will he focus on that?  How long will he linger?  Will his interest wane, grow, or remain consistent over the course of his examination of these issues.  From a structural point of view, you just can’t tell.

And that is why after all these years I’m developing the dynamic model – to chart, predict and manipulate those “in-between” forces that drive the elements of structure, unseen.  Part of that effort is to chart the areas in which dynamics already exist in the current structural projection of the model.

Read Narrative Dynamics

Available in Paperback and on Kindle

Narrative Dynamics (Front Cover)

Storytelling Tip: Trapped in a Routine

As with real people, characters can become trapped in their routines. When a person sets up a routine in order to achieve a goal, service the infrastructure of his or her life, cope with an emotional necessity, or engage in a desired ongoing experience, the situation, reasons, passions, or even the nature of the person himself may have changed in some way that makes the routine no longer effective, counterproductive, inordinately costly, or unsustainably unpleasant.

Still, because the human mind responds to conditioning, a person may continue in their routine by sheer force of psychological inertia. And since the human mind filters out going non-threatening repetitive stimuli (such as a ticking clock or air conditioner noise – called a selective filter) a person may never even become aware that they are in a routine, no matter how difficult or unenjoyable the routine is.

Stories that explore such issues can be very involving for readers or an audience, as they not only strike close to home, but also spark internal consideration which may illuminate similar solvable dissatisfactions in their own lives.

Learn more about incorporating thematic topics in your story in our book:

A Few Words About Theme

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Learn more about storytelling in our book:

50 Sure-Fire Storytelling Tricks!

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Writing Stories about Hopes and Dreams

A lot of people, writers included, use the words “hope” and “dream” pretty much interchangeably. Fact is, each describes a completely different way of imagining the future. Being clear not only of their definitions but of the different states of mind each invokes will not only help you better communicate with your readers or audience, but may also open a deeper level of sophistication in the message you are trying to convey.

Hope is a desired future to which at least one definitive pathway exists. It doesn’t have to be a sure thing or even a likely outcome that the hope will be achieved – just that there is at least one causal path that, if completed, will arrive at the desired future.

For example, if one hopes to graduate, it is a matter of following a laid out series of steps that, when completed, will result in a diploma.

In contrast, Dream is a desired future for which no definitive pathway exists.  Dreams may be likely to be realized or may be nearly impossible, but there must be at least some possibility of being achieved or it is not a Dream but a Fantasy.

For example, if one dreams of becoming a movie star and sits around a popular restaurant for studio executives every day, there literally is no Hope, but the dream can remain alive forever.

It is important to note that the pathway to achieving a hope is not necessarily only linear.  While getting a degree may require taking some course in given order (101 before 201, for example), other course are electives and the only requirement to achieve the hope is that a certain number are fulfilled, regardless of the order.

Similarly, one can try to realize a dream by taking steps, such as singling out a studio exec and stalking them, or by creating a favorable environment, such as showing up not only at a restaurant, but also at a gym and a charity fundraiser, believing that by being more visible, the odds are increased for being “noticed.”

To be a true hope, there must be a certain cause and effect relationship between the steps or conditions in which one engages and the achievement of the hope state.  But a dream, by definition, is built on indirect relationships and influence, rather than certain connections.

Keep in mind that there are two kinds of causal relationships – if/then and when/also.  If/then is standard temporal causality, as in One bad apple spoils the bunch.  When/also is the spatial version of causality, as in Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.  In each case, there is a direct connection between condition one, and condition two:  If condition one is met, condition two is certain.

It is this absolute association that is not present in dreams.  But from an emotional standpoint, there is no difference between hoping and dreaming.  Each is a future state that is highly desired, but in hoping, one expects that future if all the conditions are met, while in dreaming, meeting the conditions provides no guarantee.

In Dramatica theory, Hope vs. Dream is a thematic conflict.  It describes stories in which the message revolves around proving that in the given situation of that particular story, it is either better to hope or to dream.

Is one deluded by an intense dream into thinking there is real hope?  Or, is one missing out on life experience and the rare but real advent of a lucky chance by confining oneself to only those things for which hope exists?

We’ve all seen these kinds of stories in books, movies, television and stage plays.  As an author, it can improve both your work and your life to explore the difference between the two.

Here are the specific definitions of Hope and Dream from the Dramatica Dictionary:

Hope

Variation – dynamic pair: Dream ↔ Hope

a desired future if things go as expected

Hope is based on a projection of the way things are going. When one looks at the present situation and notes the direction of change, Hope lies somewhere along that line. As an example, if one is preparing for a picnic and the weather has been sunny, one Hopes for a sunny day. If it was raining for days, one could not Hope but only Dream. Still, Hope acknowledges that things can change in unexpected ways. That means that Hoping for something is not the same as expecting something. Hope is just the expectation that something will occur unless something interferes. How accurately a character evaluates the potential for change determines whether he is Hoping or dreaming. When a character is dreaming and thinks he is Hoping, he prepares for things where there is no indication they will come true.

syn. desired expectation, optimistic anticipation, confident aspiration, promise, encouraging outlook.

Dream

Variation – dynamic pair: Hope ↔ Dream

a desired future that requires unexpected developments

Dream describes a character who speculates on a future that has not been ruled out, however unlikely. Dreaming is full of “what ifs.” Cinderella dreamed of her prince because it wasn’t quite unimaginable. One Dreams of winning the lottery even though one “hasn’t got a hope.” Hope requires the expectation that something will happen if nothing goes wrong. Dreaming has no such limitation. Nothing has to indicate that a Dream will come true, only that it’s not impossible. Dreaming can offer a positive future in the midst of disaster. It can also motivate one to try for things others scoff at. Many revolutionary inventors have been labeled as Dreamers. Still and all, to Dream takes away time from doing, and unless one strikes a balance and does the groundwork, one can Dream while hopes go out the window for lack of effort.

syn. aspire, desiring the unlikely, pulling for the doubtful, airy hope, glimmer, far fetched desire

Learn more about Theme in my book:

A Few Words About Theme

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