Category Archives: Author & Audience

The Purpose of Stories

This is the purpose and function of story: to show that when something has previously served you well one hundred percent of the time, it may not continue to hold true, or conversely, that it will always hold true. Either message is equally valid and depends wholly upon the author’s personal bias on the issue, which arbitrarily determines the slant of the message. Obviously, the outcome is not arbitrary to the author, but it is completely arbitrary to the story.

Whether the Main Character is change or steadfast, the outcome success or failure, and the judgment good or bad, determines the audience’s position in relationship to the correct and incorrect approaches to the problem, and therefore the impact of the message upon them.

From the Dramatica Theory Book

Story Justifications

An author builds an argument that the Main Character was either justified or not in his actions, then “proves” the point by concluding the story with an outcome of success or failure and a judgment of good or bad. In this way, the author hopes to convince an audience that actions taken in a particular context are appropriate or inappropriate. The audience members hope to become convinced that when the proper course of action is unclear, they can rely on a more “objective” truth to guide them.

In real life, only time will tell if our actions will ultimately achieve what we want and if that will bring us more happiness than hurt. In stories, it is the author who determines what is justified and what is not. Within the confines of the story, the author’s view IS objective truth.

The author’s ability to decide the validity of actions “objectively” changes the meaning of justification from how we have been using it. In life, when actions are seen as justified, it means that everyone agrees with the reasons behind the actions. In stories, reasons don’t count. Even if all the characters agree with the reasons, the author might show that all the characters were wrong. Reasons just explain why characters act as they do. Consensus regarding the reasons does not determine correctness.

From the Dramatica Theory Book

Subjective Characters and the Objective Story

One of the most common mistakes made by authors of every level of experience is to create a problem for their Main Character that has nothing to do with the story at large. The reasoning behind this is not to separate the two, but usually occurs because an author works out a story and then realizes that he has not made it personal enough. Because the whole work is already completed, it is nearly impossible to tie the Main Character’s personal problem into the larger story without a truly major rewrite. So, the next best thing is to improve the work by tacking on a personal issue for the Main Character in addition to the story’s problem.

Of course, this leads to a finished piece in which either the story’s issues or the Main Character’s issues could be removed and still leave a cogent tale behind. In other words, to an audience it feels like one of the issues is out of place and shouldn’t be in the work.

Now, if one of the two different problems were removed, it wouldn’t leave a complete story, yet the remaining part would still feel like a complete tale. Dramatica differentiates between a “tale” and a “story”. If a story is an argument, a tale is a statement. Whereas a story explores an issue from all sides to determine what is better or worse overall, a tale explores an issue down a single path and shows how it turns out. Most fairy tales are just that, tales.

There is nothing wrong with a tale. You can write a tale about a group of people facing a problem without having a Main Character. Or, you could write a personal tale about a Main Character without needing to explore a larger story. If you simply put an Objective Story-tale and a Main Character tale into the same work, one will often seem incidental to the real thrust of the work. But, if the Main Character tale and the Objective Story-tale both hinge on the same issue, then suddenly they are tied together intimately, and what happens in one influences what happens in the other.

This, by definition, forms a Grand Argument Story, and opens the door to all kinds of dramatic power and variety not present in a tale. For example, although the story at large may end in success, the Main Character might be left miserable. Conversely, even though the big picture ended in failure, the Main Character might find personal satisfaction and solace. We’ll discuss these options at great length in The Art Of Storytelling section. For now, let us use this as a foundation to examine the relationship between the Subjective Characters and the Objective Story.

From the Dramatica Theory Book

The Narrative Archetype

A writer recently asked:

Hi Melanie!R.T.

I had a question. Have you ever heard of the term Narrative Archetype? What does it mean to you in theory and to all of us who use your products “Dramatica” and last but not least, Could you tell me a little bit more about your new software “StoryWeaver” and how it can benefit me and make life a little easier for me as a storyteller?

My reply:

Although I’ve heard the term Narrative Archetype somewhere or other, I honestly have no idea what it means! I can tell you that in Dramatica theory, the narrator is seen as the author speaking, even if the author also appears as a character in the story.

For example, in To Kill a Mockingbird, Scout is ostensibly the author and relates the piece as an older woman. But, she also appears in the story as Young Scout. When she is in the story, she is one of the characters, but when she addresses us directly as older Scout, she is acting as narrator.

Crucial to this difference is the understanding that there is a difference between a Player and a Character. A Character is a particular collection of human traits, whereas a Player is simply the host that manifests them.

So, when one player dies and another player picks up his or her dramatic functions, that new player may actually be the same character. Now, getting back to the narrator, in Glass Menagerie, Tennessee Williams has written himself as a character in this loosely autobiographical piece. But, from time to time, he steps toward the audience and addresses them directly. Then, he returns into the stage to continue as if he was unaware of the audience. This is the player as character, then dropping that role to adopt the role of narrator and then returning the role of character. Basically, it’s the same “person,” but with different functions.

In comedy, you’ll often see a player do an “aside” to the audience – a look directly through the “fourth wall” of the stage or into the camera that breaks the fiction. It forms an author’s commentary on the action that is clearly meant to indicate that at that moment the player is speaking to the audience directly and therefore carrying the author’s message.

A great example of this is in the old series Northern Exposure. There is an episode where two major characters are about to fight a duel. The series lead, Joel, tells them to wait. He then launches into a discussion about the script and it’s implications. One of the other characters, Maggie, says that he can’t to that: he can’t just step out of the story and discuss the script in front of the audience. He goes on to argue that they are doing this whole thing for the audience and are obligated to make it come out right.

So, then enter an “impromptu” story conference until they all decide to skip the duel scene since they can’t figure out how to make it work out without a tragedy and go directly to the scene at the end where both parties survived and everyone are friends again.

Now what is particularly interesting about this is that they stay “in character” while stepping out of character! In other words, their personalities, attitudes, and approaches remain consistent while arguing about the script, even though they have all become narrators!

So, it is often a fun storytelling technique to blur the line between the two!

Keep in mind; audiences and readers come to a story to ignite their passions. They only need enough structure to support that passion, never to get in the way of it.

Which brings me to your second question about StoryWeaver, the new software program I’ve created specifically to deal with the passionate side of storytelling.

As co-creator of Dramatica, my purpose was to define structure absolutely, so we could all know what pieces we had to work with, and how they could fit together to create different combinations that were always sound drama. But there was something lacking – the heart and soul of storytelling! And that’s where StoryWeaver comes in.

Since Dramatica was first released in 1994, I’ve struggled to devise a passionate approach to story creation that was both consistent with Dramatica’s structural view, but focused on the heart line, not the head line. StoryWeaver is the first release of the result of that work.

By listening to the students in my UCLA course in Dramatica theory, by getting back in touch with my own roots and reasons for writing, and by answering email like this, I’ve come “full spiral” back to the joy of writing, but carrying a bag of structural tricks. And that’s what I’m sharing in StoryWeaver.

StoryWeaver is a step-by-step approach to working out the details of what your story is about and how it unfolds. But, it doesn’t mention structure at all. Rather, the structural side is hidden behind the questions, not right up front where you would have to turn away from your muse to figure something out.

There are four stages in StoryWeaver – Inspiration (where you come up with ideas for your Plot, Characters, Theme, and Genre to supplement what you already have in mind), Development (where you add detail, depth, and richness to you ideas), Exposition (where you work out how these ideas will actually show up in your story), and Storytelling (where you develop a timeline as to how these ideas will be revealed to your reader or audience as the story unfolds).

By the time you get through all the questions (about 150 of them!), you’ll have devised a complete, detailed, sequential treatment of your story, ready to write OR to take to Dramatica for further structural development.

You can’t import directly to Dramatica (at least not yet!) but if you work out your story passionately in StoryWeaver first and THEN approach Dramatica, you’ll have created so many interesting characters and so much involving action that Dramatica won’t dry up the muse.

Thanks for the email, and I hope this helps!

Audience and Main Character

Suppose your audience/reader and your Main Character do NOT agree in attitudes about the central issue of the story. Even so, the audience will still identify with the Main Character because he or she represents the audience’s position in the story. So, if the Main Character grows in resolve to remain steadfast and succeeds, then the message to your audience is, “Adopt the Main Character’s view if you wish to succeed in similar situations.”  If the Main Character remains steadfast and fails, changes their view and succeeds, or changes and fails, completely different messages will be sent to your audience/reader.

Clearly, since either change or steadfast can lead to either success or failure in a story, when you factor in where the audience itself stands in regard to the issues of your story a great number of different kinds of audience impact can be created by your choice.

Do you want your story to bring your audience to a point of change or to reinforce its current view? Oddly enough, choosing a steadfast Main Character may bring an audience to change and choosing a change character may influence the audience to remain steadfast. Why? It depends upon whether or not your audience shares the Main Character’s point of view to begin with.

From the Dramatica Pro Software

Author’s Intent

Simply having a feeling or a point of view does not an author make. One becomes an author the moment one establishes an intent to communicate. Usually some intriguing setting, dialog, or bit of action will spring to mind and along with it the desire to share it. Almost immediately, most authors leap ahead in their thinking to consider how the concept might best be presented to the audience. In other words, even before a complete story has come to mind most authors are already trying to figure out how to tell the parts they already have.

As a result, many authors come to the writing process carrying a lot of baggage: favorite scenes, characters, or action, but no real idea how they are all going to fit together. A common problem is that all of these wonderful inspirations often don’t belong in the same story. Each may be a complete idea unto itself, but there is no greater meaning to the sum of the parts. To be a story, each and every part must also function as an aspect of the whole.

Some writers run into problems by trying to work out the entire dramatic structure of a story in advance only to find they end up with a formulaic and uninspired work. Conversely, other writers seek to rely on their muse and work their way through the process of expressing their ideas only to find they have created nothing more than a mess. If a way could be found to bring life to tired structures and also to knit individual ideas into a larger pattern, both kinds of authors might benefit. It is for this purpose that Dramatica was developed.

From the Dramatica Theory Book

Communicating Through Symbols

 

How can essential concepts be communicated? Certainly not in their pure, intuitive form directly from mind to mind. (Not yet, anyway!) To communicate a concept, an author must symbolize it, either in words, actions, juxtapositions, interactions — in some form or another. As soon as the concept is symbolized, however, it becomes culturally specific and therefore inaccessible to much of the rest of the world.

Even within a specific culture, the different experiences of each member of an audience will lead to a slightly different interpretation of the complex patterns represented by intricate symbols. On the other hand, it is the acceptance of common symbols of communication that defines a culture. For example, when we see a child fall and cry, we do not need to know what language he speaks or what culture he comes from in order to understand what has happened. If we observe the same event in a story, however, it may be that in the author’s culture a child who succumbs to tears is held in low esteem. In that case, then the emotions of sadness we may feel in our culture are not at all what was intended by the author.

Symbolizing Concepts

It has been argued that perhaps the symbols we use are what create concepts, and therefore no common understanding between cultures, races, or times is possible. Dramatica works because indeed there ARE common concepts: morality, for example. Morality, a common concept? Yes. Not everyone shares the same definition of morality, but every culture and individual understands some concept that means “morality” to them. In other words, the concept of “morality” may have many different meanings — depending on culture or experience — but they all qualify as different meanings of “morality.” Thus there can be universally shared essential concepts even though they drift apart through various interpretations. It is through this framework of essential concepts that communication is possible.