Category Archives: Dramatica’s Origins

Dramatica: The Lost Theory Book (Part 3)

 

A STORY MIND

Prologue

Before the final version of “Dramatica – a New Theory of Story” there was an earlier draft which contained unfininished concepts and additional theory that was ultimately deemed “too complex”. As a result, this material was never fully developed, was cut from the final version of the book, and has never seen the light of day — until now! Recently, a copy of this early draft surfaced in the theory archives. The following are excerpts from this “lost” text.

CAVEAT:

Because the text that follows was not fully developed, portions may be incomplete, inaccurate, or actually quite wrong.

It is presented as a look into the history of the development of Dramatica and also as a source of additional theory concepts that (with further development) may prove useful.

NOTE: This excerpt errs in seeing only two points of view – the Main Character (Subjective) and Author (Objective). Later it was discovered that there are four points of view – Main Character, Obstacle Character, Subjective Story, and Objective Story.

Stories have traditionally been viewed as a series of events affecting independently-acting characters — but not to Dramatica. Dramatica sees every character, conflict, action or decision as aspects of a single mind trying to solve a problem. This mind, the Story Mind, is not the mind of the author, the audience, nor any of the characters, but of the story itself. The process of problem solving is the unfolding of the story.

But why a mind? Certainly this was not the intent behind the introduction of stories as an art form. Rather, from the days of the first storytellers right up through the present, when a technique worked, it was repeated and copied and became part of the “conventions” of storytelling. Such concepts as the Act and the Scene, Character, Plot and Theme, evolved by such trial and error.

And yet, the focus was never on WHY these things should exist, but how to employ them. The Dramatica Theory states that stories exist because they help us deal with problems in our own lives. Further, this is because stories give us two views of the problem.

One view is through the eyes of a Main Character. This is a Subjective view, the view FROM the Story Mind as it deals with the problem. This is much like our own limited view or our own problems.

But stories also provide us with the Author’s Objective view, the view OF the story mind as it deals with a problem. This is more like a “God’s eye view” that we don’t have in real life.

In a sense, we can relate emotionally to a story because we empathize with the Main Character’s Subjective view, and yet relate logically to the problem through the Author’s Objective view.

This is much like the difference between standing in the shoes of the soldier in the trenches or the general on the hill. Both are watching the same battle, but they see it in completely different terms.

In this way, stories provide us with a view that is akin to our own attempt to deal with our personal problems while providing an objective view of how our problems relate to the “Bigger Picture”. That is why we enjoy stories, why they even exist, and why they are structured as they are.

Armed with this Rosetta Stone concept we spent 12 years re-examining stories and creating a map of the Story Mind. Ultimately, we succeeded.

The Dramatica Model of the Story Mind is similar to a Rubik’s Cube. Just as a Rubik’s Cube has a finite number of pieces, families of parts (corners, edge pieces) and specific rules for movement, the Dramatica model has a finite size, specific natures to its parts, coordinated rules for movement, and the possibility to create an almost infinite variety of stories — each unique, each accurate to the model, and each true to the author’s own intent.

The concept of a limited number of pieces frequently precipitates a “gut reaction” that the system must itself be limiting and formulaic. Rather, without some kind of limit, structure cannot exist. Further, the number of parts has little to do with the potential variety when dynamics are added to the system. For example, DNA has only FOUR basic building blocks, and yet when arranged in the dynamic matrix of the double helix DNA chain, is able to create all the forms of life that inhabit the planet.

The key to a system that has identity, but not at the expense of variety, is a flexible structure. In a Rubik’s cube, corners stay corners and edges stay edges no matter how you turn it. And because all the parts are linked, when you make a change on the side you are concentrating on, it makes appropriate changes on the sides of the structure you are not paying attention to.

And THAT is the value of Dramatica to an author: that it defines the elements of story, how they are related and how to manipulate them. Plot, Theme, Character, Conflict, the purpose of Acts, Scenes, Action and Decision, all are represented in the Dramatica model, and all are interrelated. It is the flexible nature of the structure that allows an author to create a story that has form without formula

Dramatica: The Lost Theory Book (Part 2)

 How Stories Came to Be
Prologue
  

Before the final version of “Dramatica – a New Theory of Story” there was an earlier draft which contained unfininished concepts and additional theory that was ultimately deemed “too complex”. As a result, this material was never fully developed, was cut from the final version of the book, and has never seen the light of day — until now! Recently, a copy of this early draft surfaced in the theory archives. The following are excerpts from this “lost” text.

CAVEAT:

Because the text that follows was not fully developed, portions may be incomplete, inaccurate, or actually quite wrong.

It is presented as a look into the history of the development of Dramatica and also as a source of additional theory concepts that (with further development) may prove useful.

Note about this excerpt:

As we developed the concept of the Story Mind, we began to wonder how it might have come to be that stories function as analogies to the human mind. Over the years, we developed a hypothesis which is available in its polished form on the web in an article entitled The Story Mind .

The attempt at that explanation which follows is an early effort that misses some of the key ingredients, but also provides a more emotional perspective on the topic which was lost in the final, logistically polished version. Although somewhat inaccurate, I find this embryonic explanation much more intuitive and in a sense more “charming.”

How Stories Came to Be

Any writer who has sought to understand the workings of story is familiar with the terms “Character”, “Plot”, “Theme”, “Genre”, “Premise”, “Act”, “Scene”, and many others. Although there is much agreement on the generalities of these concepts, they have proven to be elusive when precise definitions are attempted. Dramatica presents the first definitive explanation of exactly what stories are and precisely how they are structured.

The dramatic conventions that form the framework of stories today did not spring fully developed upon us. Rather, the creation of these conventions was an evolutionary process dating far into our past. It was not an arbitrary effort, but served specific needs.

Early in the art of communication, knowledge could be exchanged about such things as where to find food, or how one felt – happy or sad . Information regarding the location or state of things requires only a description. However, when relating an event or series of events, a more sophisticated kind of knowledge needs to be communicated.Tales

Imagine the very first story teller, perhaps a cave dweller who has just returned from a run-in with a bear. This has been an important event in her life and she desires to share it. She will not only need to convey the concepts “bear” and “myself”, but must also describe what happened.

Her presentation then, might document what led up to her discovery of the bear, the interactions between them, and the manner in which she returned safely to tell the tale.

Tale: a statement (fictional or non-fictional) that describes a problem, the methods employed in the attempt to solve the problem, and how it all came out.

We can imagine why someone would want to tell a tale, but why would others listen? There are some purely practical reasons: if the storyteller faced a problem and discovered a way to succeed in it, that experience might someday be useful in the lives of the each individual in the audience. And if the storyteller didn’t succeed, the tale can act as a warning as to which approaches to avoid.

By listening to a tale, an audience benefits from knowledge they have not gained directly through their own experience.

So, a tale is a statement documenting an approach to problem solving that provides an audience with valuable experience.Stories, Objective and Subjective

When relating her tale, the first storyteller had an advantage she did not have when she actually experienced the event: the benefit of hindsight. The ability to look back and re-evaluate her decisions from a more objective perspective allowed her to share a step by step evaluation of her approach, and an appreciation of the ultimate outcome. In this way, valid steps could be separated from poorly chosen steps and thereby provide a much more useful interpretation of the problem solving process than simply whether she ultimately succeeded or failed.

This objective view might be interwoven with the subjective view, such as when one says, “I didn’t know it at the time, but….” In this manner, the benefit of objective hindsight can temper the subjective immediacy each step of the way, as it happens. This provides the audience with an ongoing commentary as to the eventual correctness of the subjective view. It is this differential between the subjective view and the objective view that creates the dramatic potential of a story.

Through the Subjective view, the audience can empathize with the uncertainty that the storyteller felt as she grapples with the problem. Through the Objective view, the storyteller can argue that her Subjective approach was or was not an appropriate solution.

In short then:

Stories provide two views to the audience:• A Subjective view that allows the audience to feel as if the story is happening to them

• An Objective view that furnishes the benefit of hindsight.The Objective view satisfies our reason, the subjective view satisfies our feelings.

Dramatica: The Lost Theory Book (Part 1)

Before the final version of “Dramatica – a New Theory of Story” there was an earlier draft which contained unfininished concepts and additional theory that was ultimately deemed “too complex”. As a result, this material was never fully developed, was cut from the final version of the book, and has never seen the light of day — until now! Recently, a copy of this early draft surfaced in the theory archives. The following are excerpts from this “lost” text.

CAVEAT:

Because the text that follows was not fully developed, portions may be incomplete, inaccurate, or actually quite wrong.

It is presented as a look into the history of the development of Dramatica and also as a source of additional theory concepts that (with further development) may prove useful.

Introduction

Everybody loves a good story.

“Good” stories seem to transcend language, culture, age, sex, and even time. They speak to us in some universal language. But what makes a story good? And what exactly is that universal language?

Stories can be expressed in any number of ways. They can be related verbally through the spoken word and song. They can be told visually through art and dance. For every sense there are numerous forms of expression. There almost seems no limit to how stories can be related.

Yet for all of its variety, the question remains: “What makes a good story, “good”? What makes a bad story, “bad””?

This book presents a completely new way to look at stories – a way that explains the universal language of stories not just in terms of how it works, but why and how that language was developed in the first place. By discovering what human purposes stories fulfill, we can gain a full understanding of what they need to do, and therefore what we, as authors need to do to create “good” stories.

To that end, Dramatica does not just describe how stories work, but how they should work.

Storyforming vs. Storytelling

Before we proceed, it is important to separate Storyform from Storytelling. As an example of what we mean, if we compare West Side Story to Romeo and Juliet, we can see that they are essentially the same story, told in a different way. The concept that an underlying structure exists that is then represented in a subjective relating of that structure is not new to traditional theories of story. In fact, Narrative Theory in general assumes such a division.

Specifically, Structuralist theory sees story as having a histoire consisting of plot, character and setting, and a discours that is the storytelling. The Russian Formalists separated things a bit differently, though along similar lines seeing story as half fable or “fabula”, which also contained the order in which events actually happened in the fable, and the “sjuzet”, which was the order in which these events were revealed to an audience.

These concepts date back at least as far as Aristotle’s Poetics.

In Dramatica, Story is seen as containing both structure and dynamics that include Character, Theme, Plot, and Perspective, while classifying the specific manner in which the story points are illustrated and the order information is given to the audience into the realm of storytelling.

Storyforming: an argument that a specific approach is the best (or worst) solution to a particular problem

Storytelling: the portrayal of the argument as interpreted by the author

Picture five different artists, each painting her interpretation of the same rose. One might be highly impressionistic, another in charcoal. They are any number of styles an artist might choose to illustrate the rose. Certainly the finished products are works of art. Yet behind the art is the objective structure of the rose itself: the object that was being portrayed.

The paintings are hung side by side in a gallery, and we, as sophisticated art critics, are invited to view them. We might have very strong feelings about the manner in which the artists approached their subject, and we may even argue that the subject itself was or was not an appropriate choice. Yet, if asked to describe the actual rose solely on the basis of what we see in the paintings, our savvy would probably fail us.

We can clearly see that each painting is of a rose. In fact, depending on the degree of realism, we may come to the conclusion that all the paintings are of the same rose. In that case, each artist has succeeded in conveying the subject. Yet, there is so much detail missing. Each artist may have seen the rose from a slightly different position. Each artist has chosen to accentuate certain qualities of the rose at the expense of others. That is how the un-embellished subject is imbued with the qualities of each artist, and the subject takes on a personal quality.

This illustrates a problem that has plagued story analysts and theorists from day one:

Once the story is told, it is nearly impossible to separate the story from the telling unless you know what the author actually had in mind.

Certainly the larger patterns and dramatic broad strokes can be seen working within a story, but many times it is very difficult to tell if a particular point, event, or illustration was merely chosen by the author’s preference of subject matter or if it was an essential part of the structure and dynamics of the argument itself.

Let’s sit in once more on our first storyteller. She was telling us about her run-in with a bear. But what if it had been a lion instead? Would it have made a difference to the story? Would it have made it a different story altogether?

If the story’s problem was about her approach to escaping from any wild animal, then it wouldn’t really matter if it were a bear or a lion; the argument might be made equally well by the use of either. But if her point was to argue her approach toward escaping from bears specifically, then certainly changing the culprit to a lion would not serve her story well.

Essentially, the difference between story and storytelling is like the difference between denotation and connotation. Story denotatively documents all of the essential points of the argument in their appropriate relationships, and storytelling shades the point with information nonessential to the argument itself (although it often touches on the same subject).

In summary, even the best structured story does not often exist as an austere problem solving argument, devoid of personality. Rather, the author embellishes her message with connotative frills that speak more of her interests in the subject than of the argument she is making about it. But for the purposes of understanding the dramatic structure of the piece, it is essential to separate story from storytelling.

Traditionally, theories of story have looked at existing works and attempted to classify patterns that could be seen to be present in several stories. In fact, even today, computer scientists working in “narrative intelligence” gather enormous data bases of existing stories that are broken down into every discernable pattern in the attempt to create a program that can actually tell stories.

Dramatica was not created by observing existing stories and looking for patterns, but by asking new questions: Why should there be characters at all? What is the purpose of Act divisions? What is the reason for Scenes? In short, Why are there stories in the first place?

What Determines Plot Progression Sequences?

Rich asks:

The one thing that I am having trouble understanding is the plot rotations. Why does choosing the rotation in one Domain sometimes chose them in others and sometimes not? And what relation does one rotation have to the other?

Answer:

As many of you may have noticed, choosing items in the Plot Progression doesn’t work the same way for all four throughlines. Some seem to have much more impact, control, or power on the overall progression then others, and in fact, they do!

Now this immediately smacks of some inconsistency or inaccuracy in the software and/or theory. After all, why should one throughline be inherently more structurally “important” than another? Well, conceptually, one throughline is not more important than another, but in practice one MUST be more important than another.

I know that sounds trite. Let me explain with a brief visualization, then describe how “plot rotation” works as a mechanism in the software.

First, the visualization:

Think of a globe of the world. Now, try to draw it on a flat piece of paper. You’ve all seen the different kinds of projection we end up. Some make Greenland HUGE, but the USA small. Others make the USA large, but split the map, as if you’ve flattened out the peel of an orange. In fact, there are many different projections of the globe, but each has a different kind of distortion, due to trying to project a 3 dimensional object onto a two dimensional surface.

The Dramatica Structure suffers the same problem. It is SUPPOSED to represent a model of the mind, as called for by the theory. The mind itself is a FOUR dimensional object. That fourth dimension is Time. To be accurate, time cannot be broken into a series of increments but must flow continuously and simultaneously throughout the model. The problem is, that a computer cannot create a truly unbroken “flow.”

In computer programming, every operation is a series of steps, be it a function or sequence of operations. As a result, to create a model of the four dimensional mind in a computer, you need to “project it” onto three dimensions, then “move” it through time in steps. That is not completely accurate, just as any projection of the globe is not completely accurate on a flat surface. Still, in this way, the first three dimensions are VERY close to accurate, but the fourth dimension is where you pick up the distortion.

In the software model of the Story Mind, this distortion will show up with the Plot Progression.

Now, as you might expect, there are three other projections of the Story Mind which might be created: One in which the distortion shows up in CHARACTER, one with a distorted THEME, and one with a distorted GENRE. Each has a different strength and a different weakness.

Ultimately, it is our hope to program the other three as well, so that authors have a choice of where to sweep the distortion under the carpet. Unfortunately, each requires the creation of a completely different model with its own unique algorithms. The original model took four years to build and two more to perfect. It was also VERY expensive, costing over one million dollars in R & D before the FIRST version of the software was released. As you may imagine, it will be many years before we can offer another projection of the Story Mind (especially being intellectually burned out by the mind-warping contortions of visualizing the first model!)

Okay, so this simple visualization gives an overview of the problem. It tells us why the distortion will show up in plot. But what is actually going on in the software that makes that distortion give more “power” to one throughline over the other?

The simple answer is that the same bias that makes Plot Progression distorted also favors the Main Character and Objective Story throughlines at the expense of the Obstacle Character and Subjective Story throughlines. As a result, more power is assigned to them, over the others.

Here’s where we have to get a bit more technical…

You may be familiar with my analogy of “winding up” the structure to create a storyform, as if the structure were a Rubik’s cube. This is a surprisingly accurate visualization. In the form you see the structure on the chart, it is neutral and at rest. In other words, there is no dramatic tension in the resting model. This is because all the quads are balanced and consistent in both the vertical and horizontal planes. This can be seen by nothing that on the chart, “Past” is to “Universe” as “Memory” is to “Mind” This shows that identical vertical distance in the creates identical semantic differences in meaning. Horizontally, “Being” is to “Becoming” as “Doing” is to “Obtaining.” This indicates that identical horizontal distances create identical differences in meaning. In other words, in the at rest model, identical vectors in the three dimensional matrix represent identical differences in meaning, so that the relationships among any story points plotted on the matrix can be determined by their semantic distance.

Sorry about that!

Now, on to the next technical information necessary for the answer to your question…

When the model is “twisted and turned” it moves items out of alignment, altering their relative semantic distances and creating a tension or distortion based on the degree of misalignment. This is what happens when you answer questions in the Dramatica software.

In fact, there are two kinds of wind-ups which occur. One is applied to the Main Character Domain and then ripples out over the entire structure. The other is applied to the Objective Story Domain and then ripples out.

The eight questions you answer about Main Character Dynamics and Plot Dynamics (Resolve, Growth, Approach, Mental Sex, Driver, Limit, Outcome, and Judgment) determine many things about those two wind-ups.

For example, because Time is not free flowing in the model as it would be in a real mind, one of the windups (Main or Objective) will be applied first to the neutral model, the other will then be applied to an already twisted model. Which comes first creates the feel in a story as to which is more “screwed up” – the Main Character or the world at large. In this way, the story develops a dynamic imperative indicating that a Main Character must change or must remain steadfast if success in the Objective Story is to be achieved.

The real question is, how does the mechanism of the wind-up actually work?

Okay, the wind-up in each of the two throughlines begins at the bottom and works its way up. Why? Because that way it screws more with time (the horizontal plane) than with space (the vertical plane) in keeping with a consistent projection or bias to the model overall. (The bias must remain consistent in both structure and dynamics or the distortion will drift and create apparently chaotic inaccuracies rather than limiting them to one area for the benefit of all the others.)

To wind up the very bottom quad of elements, the software must know the problem element for that throughline. That can either be chosen directly by the author, or the story engine will eventually work it out as a cross-reference of the effects of other choices.

Once the problem element is known, it becomes the pivot point or “seed” of the throughline’s wind-up. Now, on that first quad, there are two kinds of wind-ups which may be applied: “Flips” and “Rotates.”

A flip will swap the positions of two elements in a diagonal relationship, such as “Faith” and “Disbelief.” Why would this happen? In a real mind, when we have one of our elemental sensibilities rubbed raw by experience, one of two things happens – we become ultra sensitive to that topic when it comes up or we become insensitive to it (scab it over). A flip containing the problem element itself represents a scabbing over by moving the problem out of harms way. A flip along the other axis (between the other two elements not containing the problem element) represents an increased sensitivity by leaving the problem in place.

Of course, when one becomes overly sensitive to an item, the items around it become less sensitive to pinpoint the irritation and make it easier to avoid further injury. But, if one scabs over, then the surrounding items become more sensitive to make up for the loss and also as a sensitive perimeter that warns the mind something is approaching which might rip off the scab.

In contrast, one might “rotate” elements rather than “flip” them. Why? Because in our own minds, we sometimes don’t just become biased by experience to make things more or less sensitive, but we also move items up and down in the pecking order or sequence of consideration depending on their endlessly adjusting priority.

So, in a “rotate,” we move the items in a quad circularly, like a turning a knob. This also has two version, clockwise and counter-clockwise. This creates a different kind of tension determining whether or not the problem element is being moved up or down in priority.

Once we have flipped and rotated (twisted and turned) the first quad in the first throughline, we move up to the variation level (issue or range). The same kinds of dynamics are at work here too, but not necessarily the same arrangement as in the quad of elements below.

The upper quads have an additional aspect – they might “carry the children” or not. This means, when the variations flip and/or rotate, for example, do they drag their underlying elements along with them or leave them behind. Why? Because justifications (biases) can enter a real mind at any level and may or may not affect the levels above and below.

You can see this flipping and rotating at work in actual stories. To do this, find some dialog that deals with thematic issues. (“Witness” is a good example). Find a quad of variations that deals with those issues. Plot the sequential progression of the issues that occurs in the story. After plotting a number of different quads you’ll find sequential patterns that appear as “U” shapes, “Z” patterns, and “hairpins.” All these patterns can be created by the sequential application of flips and rotates to any quad.

Ultimately, you work your way up to the top level of the structure. Here, flipping and/or rotating moves the problem from an interior position (Mind, Psychology) to and exterior position (Universe, Physics) or vice versa. This is the model’s accurate description of the psychological process of “projection,” where one comes to feel that “I’m not the problem, it’s everybody else” when it really is the person or conversely, “I guess I’m the problem,” when is really is everybody else. Ironic that the psych term for that is “projection” – not unlike the projection maps we have been talking about.

Now, I could go on endlessly about this mechanism, but we now have enough to answer the questions: “Why does choosing the rotation in one Domain sometimes chose them in others and sometimes not? And what relation does one rotation have to the other? ”

The Dramatica software story engine actually predicts the best order for not only acts, but sequences, scenes, and events as well. Early on, we realized this information would amount to “micro-managing” the plot, so we “suppressed” it. It’s still in there on every storyform, but not presented in output. We did output it for a few sample storyforms, and it amounted to literally hundreds and hundreds of pages of progressions for every quad and “quad of quads” in the entire structure. Ultimately, we only kept the “act level” progressions, as they seemed truly useful without being overly binding.

The first two versions did not allow plot progression choices so the nature of the distortion was not apparent. But when we added it in version 3, it came right up to the surface. We actually considered not including that feature to avoid the sense that the software was not accurate, even though it was just the projection distortion described above. But, the desire to provide all possible useful tools prevailed, so we put it in with great trepidation.

I think we have seen why one throughline has more power than another, but what is the relationships among the four plot progressions? In the structure without plot progression, each throughline represents a different angle on the same issues. In one sense, they represent the I, You, We, and They points of view. In another sense, they represent Knowledge, Thought, Ability, and Desire in the Story Mind (more about this in another post sometime down the line).

Once “wound-up” they create structural differential or dramatic potential among them. In motion over time, they create resonance and dissonance (harmony and disharmony). Both the dramatic potential and the interference patterns of the flow must work in conjunction so that the space-sense and time-sense of the storyform serve to carry the same message. The trick is to make the “particle” and “wave” work together. Because the structural bias exists due to the projection of the mind on three dimensions, there must be an identical bias to the temporal progression.

Taken altogether, the Plot Progression simply does not allow certain sequences because, although possible, they cannot occur in this projection without interjecting inaccuracies BETWEEN the structure and the progression.

As it stands, every available progression consistent with the model’s necessary bias IS available, so that the progressive harmony and discord of the flow of the four throughlines creates an interference pattern in which the nodal points intersect with the story points in a synthesized four-dimensional space.

In other words, the plot progression of all four throughlines will wrap around each other as the story proceeds so that it creates the spatial meaning of the story in much the same way that the scanning lines on a TV screen work together to create the greater mosaic of the Big Picture.

Thanks for asking!

Domain Placement in Story Structure

Over the years, a lot of people have asked why Dramatica forces some of the throughlines into certain domains. Why can’t “anything go?”

Well, once again, the Dramatica theory allows for more versatility, but the software doesn’t – yet. Still, what the software does is probably what you want!

Software-wise, OS, MC, SS, and OC form a quad. OS is always opposite SS and MC is always opposite OC. So, When you plop down OS or SS on a domain, you know where the other one will be. And, if put MC or OC in a domain, you’ll know where the other is. Why does the software do this? Because it creates conflict.

Universe and Mind (two of the domains) are fixed states of things and share a similar nature. Physics and Psychology (the other two domains) are processes and thereby share a nature.

Therefore, “forcing” the MC and OC into opposite domains and forcing the OS and SS into the other two creates a structure-wide consistency. In short, it forces each of the two families MC & OC (people) and OS & SS (relationships) into the greatest conflict within each family.

Since Hollywood thrives on conflict (“where’s the conflict?!”) this arrangement serves very well for MOST of the stories actually written, purchased, and produced.

But, quads have more that one kind of relationship! To see what I mean, go to the Build Characters window in D Pro (or Movie Magic Dramatica). If you open that window full wide, you’ll see three different kinds of relationships listed on the right for every quad.

The family of two items in a diagonal relationship form a “Dynamic Pair.” Since there are two diagonals in each quad, there are two Dynamic Pairs.

The two items in a horizontal relationship form “Companion Pair,” and there are two of those as well.

Finally, two vertical items form a “Dependent Pair,” also being two in a quad.

Each of these relationships has a different nature. Also, one of the two pairs of each kind will be “positive” and the other “negative.”

1. Dynamic relationships are conflictual. Positive Dynamic relationships are like the “loyal opposition” where two sides butt heads, but synthesize a better solution because of the conflict. Negative Dynamic relationships occur when two sides butt heads until each is beaten into the ground.

2. Companion relationships involve the indirect impact one character has on another. Positive Companion relationships occur when there is beneficial “fall-out” or “spill-over” between the two sides. For example, a father might work at a factory where he can bring home scrap balsa wood which his son uses for making models. Negative companion relationships involve negative spill-over such as a room-mate who snores.

3. Dependent relationships describe the joint impact of the two sides. For example, positive Dependent relationships might bring Brain and Braun together so that they are stronger than the sum of their parts. A negative Dependent relationship might have a character saying, “I’m nothing without my other half.”

There’s also one other relationship which doesn’t show up in the software – the Associate relationship.

4. Associative deals with the relationship of the individual to the group. Rather than being consistently positive or negative, the two varieties of this kind of relationship may be either – but in any given relationship one variety will be positive and the other negative. The Component variety sees the items in a quad as individuals. The Collective variety
sees them as a group.

For example, two brothers might fight between themselves (Component), yet come to each others’ aid when threatened by a bully because they now see themselves as family (Collective).

Neither one is inherently positive or negative – it depends on context. That is why we, as a culture, have trouble with terms such as “the United States.” Well which are they, United or States?

Now these same kinds of relationships can also function between MC and OC or between OS and SS. In theory then, the Main Character and Obstacle Character might be in Dynamic, Companion, or Dependent relationships, and so might the Objective and Subjective stories.

But more than this, the each throughline will have the other kinds of relationships with the other throughlines. So the MC, for example, will have a Dynamic relationship with one of the other three throughlines, a Companion with another, and a Dependent with the third. Quite a lot of interrelationships going on in a single story!

As it stands in the software, those relationships already exist. They just aren’t referred to anywhere. If you plot the positions of the four throughlines in your story on the Dramatica structural chart (or look at them in the Theme Browser) you can see by the vertical, horizontal, and diagonal relationships how each throughline relates to the others. Again, a lot to explore in your story!

Still, you can’t yet make the MC and OC companions or dependents in the software. But shouldn’t it be easy enough to do? Shouldn’t it be easy to just allow the MC and OC to share any kind of available relationship?

Sure it’s easy, but there’s a catch. EVERYTHING – all story points are connected by the Story Engine. And, for the story to have consistency, all parts of the structure must favor ONE KIND OF RELATIONSHIP. So, you can’t just change the MC and OC rules, without changing them for everything else as well. And, you also have to rewrite the entire DYNAMIC part of the engine so that it can “flip” items (as discussed in an earlier post) on the horizontal or vertical axis of a quad, rather than on the diagonal.

To tell the truth, we simply haven’t had time to work out the algorithms that would drive such a system! But we will. Or someone else will. And then the software will expand in versatility yet again.

To get a feel for the size of the nut we will have to crack to get this working, try to imagine a gripping story which has no conflict at any level. It’s do-able, but tough. We’ll add that part of the theory to the software eventually.

In the meantime, when dealing with any quad, go beyond thinking about only the diagonal conflictual relationships and think about the horizontal companion ones and the vertical dependent ones as well. Even if there is not a lot of specific support for that in the software, a little bit of theory knowledge can go a long way to added nuance and depth to your work.

Dramatica’s Plot Sequence Report – Deep Theory

  A Writer Asks:

1) In the plot sequence report, the variations by which the signposts are
explored are shifted to a different domain. Is the same true for the
variations (theme/sequences) explored in the journeys?

The quick answer is:

Don’t use the plot sequence report for Signposts and Journeys!

In fact, the plot sequence report does not deal with Signposts but with the order of the Types in sequence. Signposts are part of a Signpost/Journey pair, which constitutes a single “act” in any given throughline. Types, in contrast, are structural appreciations of order in which subjects are explored in the story.

So, Signposts must contain the fruit of the previous Journey (if any) and the seeds of the one to come, just as the Journey must reflect the roots of the earlier Signpost and the flowers of the coming one as well.

In the plot sequence report, the Types are seen as existing without journeys, from a purely structural point of view. This is what a story looks like after it is told, when all the pieces are in place and you can chart the order in which subjects were explored.

In that context, each Type seems to be explored by a different quad of Variations. But in Signposts and Journeys, the association with Variations does not hold up. The Variations listed for a given Type in the plot sequence report would only hold true at the exact center of your exploration of a signpost, halfway from one journey to the next.

In short, Signposts are not like Types. Signposts are ALWAYS morphing or evolving out of one Journey and into the next. Look at them like “bell curves” or the top of a hill on a roller coaster. The Signpost is only a pure Type at the very top – just one tiny point in time in your story. On either side, it is part Journey and therefore the Variations for that Type don’t apply.

Now, there IS one context in which you can loosely apply the Variations from plot sequence to signposts. As has been noted before, the AMOUNT of time you spend exploring Signposts relative to Journeys is completely up to your storytelling choices. So, in some stories you might just touch on a signpost in a single line of dialog and then spend the rest of the act in the journey, moving gradually to the next momentary signpost. Similarly, in other stories you might spend nearly the whole act exploring the signpost, then have only a very brief journey to the next signpost. In this kind of story you can loosely apply the Type Variations from the plot sequence report since time is kind of frozen by taking that single moment of the signpost and extending it through storytelling.

In general, however, use the plot sequence report to get a feel for the thematic progress of your story in relationship to the structure of the plot, but avoid using that as a template for the Signposts and Journeys.

(As a side note, it was argued before DPro 3.0 that perhaps the plot sequence report should be eliminated since it might lead to this exact kind of confusion. But, a lot of people like the structural overview of their story it provides, so we kept it in. The plot sequence report should only be used for your story’s structure, Signposts and Journeys should only be used for your storytelling.)

One other note: Journeys don’t have any Variations at all because they are constantly in motion. In fact, it is the flow of a Journey itself that generates Variations (which gives us a feel for how plot works to generate theme).

The Writer Also Asks:

2) If so, are they shifted to the same domain?

See above.

3) And what’s the theory behind the shift? Why is that particular
domain/variation quad chosen?

There is a simple answer and a complex answer. The simple answer is first:

The structure as seen in the chart is “at rest”. It contains no dramatic tension. When you answer the eight essential questions and the four structural choices (or any other combination of choices that arrives at a single storyform) you are not just picking points on the structure, but priming the story engine.

After your last choice, the engine has all the information it needs to run. The engine then twists and turns the structure like a Rubik’s Cube on steroids. All of the pieces get mixed up in ways that are directly the result of your choices. But because the choices influence each other at different levels and in different ways, the overall arrangement of items to one another (such as Types to Variations) is not consistent under all conditions (with all choices).

The complex answer is REALLY complex. It gets into the actual mechanism of the engine that applies the twists and turns to the structure as a result of your storyforming choices.

I’ll give you a brief overview, then point you to some pages on my web site which go into more detail if you want it.

Different choice you make in storyforming have different kinds of effects on the twisting and turning of the model. Some choice determine whether specific quads will be rotated in position (like turning a dial) to the right or the left one item (one notch). Others determine if items in a quad will be “flipped” in position, such as “logic” and “feeling” exchanging places. Other choices determine if the quads below an item will be carried with it when flipping or rotating or will be left behind in their original places while the item above flips or rotates in its own quad.

In fact, the effect of some choices is so complex that it doesn’t determine anything directly about the structure, but instead changes the effect of other choices! So, certain questions may determine if another question will cause a flip or a rotate.

Taken all together, the story engine is an elegant representation of the Dramatica theory. But even so, it is not representative of the WHOLE theory.

For example, part of the process of “winding up” the structure to create dramatic tension by answering questions involves the following:

There are actually TWO wind ups. One winds up around the Objective Story Problem Element, like a clock spring (using the kinds of flips, rotates, and “carrying the children” as explained above.) The other winds up around the Main Character Problem Element.

One of the wind ups is applied FIRST to the “at rest” structure, the other is applied SECOND. Which is first is determined by certain storyforming choices. The first wind up is closest to an “at rest” structure. The second is actually winding up a structure which is already partially wound up by the first. So, the second one is less close to “reality” than the first. You can see that this has an impact as to whether or not the audience will feel like the Main Character OUGHT to change or to remain steadfast, regardless of what he or she actually does.

The way the software is limited compared to the theory in this example is as follows:

The only two Domains which can wind up are the Main Character and the Objective Story. This is a Western Cultural favorite – so prevalent in fact that almost all stories told in Western culture use this approach. But there is no reason in theory as to why the Obstacle Character and Subjective Story might be the ones to wind, or even the Main Character and the Obstacle Character.

Clearly this would create a completely different feel for a story’s dynamics, since the order in which the items in the structure are explored and also the order in which they come into conjunction is quite different. But, this was just too much to incorporate in the original engine.

Now, one might think that the engine is quite large in the software because of all this complexity. But, as with a Rubik’s cube (which has only 27 pieces but creates 40,000,000,000,000,000 combinations – or thereabouts according to the label) the story engine creates all 32768 storyforms with only 28K of inter-related algorithms.

And, just as with the cube, it is hard to see at a glance at a finished pattern what twists and turns when into making it.

Someday, perhaps, other aspects of the theory will be incorporated into the software. For now, it is important to know that the software is right about 90% of the time – or put more accurately, the software is right for 90% of the stories you are likely to tell. But, if you have a story to tell that is running up against the software, ask yourself whether you are telling a story that is close enough to Western Cultural norms so that you should alter your story to match the storyform, or if you are telling a story so far from Western norms that perhaps you need to rely more on the theory than the software.

Well, that’s enough of the complex explanation. If you REALLY want more, visit the Mental Relativity Web Site.

There you will find the first few chapter of a book I am writing on the math behind the theory. The deepest exploration into these concepts in terms of the actual math can be found at:

http://storymind.com/mental_relativity/mrmath2.htm

Good luck!

“Illegal” Plot Progressions

A Dramatica user recently noticed that certain progressions of the Signposts and Journeys that define a Dramatica plot were “illegal.” That is to say, they never came up, no matter what the storyform structure that was created.

Here is the reply I sent off in response.

NOTE – this reply deals primarily with psychology and the mechanism behind the Dramatica software’s Story Engine. For most writers, this tip will not be very practical, but I thought the amateur detectives among you might like to get the grit.

Why Certain Signpost & Journey Patterns are “Illegal.”

Here’s another clue for you all…

The model of the “Story Mind” in the Dramatica software is intended to represent a model of an actual mind. But, if we are looking at a mind, from WHERE are we looking? To see this model, we must adopt a point of view. Even though we wish to be “objective” about looking at the Story Mind, the moment we actually observe it, we are seeing it from a perspective.

In other words, in the very process of making a model of the mind, we have to adopt an angle from which to come at the actual truth. In Eastern philosophy it is akin to “The Tao that can be spoken is NOT the Eternal Tao,” which simply means that if you ever arrive at a definition (or model) of something it must, by definition, be incorrect. Why? Because the only true and complete definition of anything is that thing itself. No model of it can actually BE it. Yet, we can come close…

When we conceived of the notion that every story was a model of a mind – a Story Mind – we soon came to realize that we must choose a perspective from which to portray it, or rather, that if we were to portray the concept at all, we could not do so without looking at it. And, if we look at it, we have adopted a perspective.

Perspective, by its very nature, amplifies some things and diminishes others. Perspective can make some things completely invisible and create mirages of other things that are not really there but seem to be.

The trick, then, for us, was to find a way to ensure that if we MUST be saddled with a perspective, that perspective was evenly applied evenly to EVERYTHING in the model so that dramatic decisions in one area would have an accurate impact on decisions made elsewhere.

The problem authors often have is that we shift our perspective while writing. This helps us involve ourselves in the personal nature of the story, but also causes us to lose our objectivity. For example, we might come to a story with all kinds of interesting ideas, all of which fit compatibly within the same subject matters, yet cannot work together in the same story structure. Dramatica was created to eliminate this problem by adhering to a single perspective in which all dramatic decisions must be considered by the same standards. Only in this way could the holes be certainly seen, rather than covered up and hidden from ourselves by our fancy mental footwork as authors, shifting perspectives to make the holes disappear.

Unfortunately, when you use a single perspective from which to view something, you lose the ability to see certain parts of it. One of the ramifications of the perspective we chose from which to observe (to create) the model of the Story Mind is that it does not “see” certain combinations of linear progressions (signposts and journeys).

If we were to “force” the Story Engine to “allow” these combinations, then they would create plot progressions that didn’t match any of the dramatic structures visible from the overall perspective of the Story Mind model. In such cases, then, the plot progression would create an audience impact that would not relate to any structural meaning the model might develop. Such a situation would have the plot progression no longer working like the scanning lines on a TV picture which make sense in and of themselves, but also form a larger picture as the sum of the parts. Rather, the plot progression would create one message that would have nothing at all to do with the “big picture” or “overall” message of the story’s structure. To make a complete argument, the flow of experience must operate in the same “reality” as the overview of the story’s larger meaning. If it doesn’t, the story simply seems “broken.”

Now, what perspective did we choose? Well, the human mind has four major areas – Knowledge, Thought, Ability, and Desire. These areas work together in a dynamic interrelationship, and in fact, there is no real dividing line from one to the next. Rather, they are like the names of colors (Red, Blue, Green, and luminosity). They are simply points along a spectrum, yet if you attach the names to equidistant points (like pickets on a fence painted like a rainbow) you can say “here is blue,” and “here is green,” and the divisions will make sense.

The model of the Story Mind as seen in Dramatica is called a “K-based” model, because it sees everything from the perspective of Knowledge, rather than Thought, Ability, or Desire. You can see that this is the case because there are no words like “Love,” or “Fear” in the model. These words would be in the “Desire” realm. But, from the perspective of Knowledge, Desire is the farthest away of the other three (Thought, Ability, and Desire.) So, terms of emotional value are the least represented, in fact are intended to be absent. The emotional side is left to the author to infuse into the structure once its “knowledge-base” has been constructed in a storyform.

As you may imagine, there are three other model projections which might be created – Thought, Ability, or Desire based models. At first, you might think that a D-based model would simply be a structure that had Love, Hate, Happiness, and Sadness as the classes, rather than Universe, Mind, Physics, and Psychology, but this would be wrong. In a true Desire-based model, the model would be experiential, rather than structural. So, an author might make dramatic choices by matching undulating color progressions to ever-morphing flow of colors.

Why did we choose a K-based system? Because our primary market – American Authors – works within American Culture. That culture is almost completely K-based. Which is why most rooms have four straight walls, why language is linear, why products are put in boxes on shelves, why definitions are important, why contracts are created, why laws exist. A D-based system would not have rooms with walls, it would have thickets where people congregated. It would not have laws, but tendencies. The worst punishment would not be death, but exile and isolation from the group experience.

If this sounds a little like the difference between a male world and a female world, that’s not far from the truth. In the Dramatica software, in each story, there is a Main Character, and to get a storyform, you must determine whether that character is Male or Female mental sex. But have you ever wondered what Mental Sex the Story Mind was itself? Male minds have direct access to K, T, and A, but synthesize D. Female minds have direct access to K, A, and D, but synthesize T. Yes, that’s right, female minds synthesize logic just as male minds synthesize emotions. So, the farthest thing from a male mind is the D-based system (though male minds can relate directly to D, they cannot get there from K, T, or A) Similarly, the female mind can appreciate T, come up with and entertain Thoughts, the female mind cannot “derive” thought by interacting K, A, and D together.

In the male mind, K is the foundation, and T and A are the tools. In a female mind, D is the foundation and K and A are the tools. American culture is based on the needs of the male mind. Men (who are more oriented toward spatial external views inherently, built the American Culture, in fact most of Western Culture, in its own image. Only when a female mind looks at the unspoiled landscape, untouched by billboards, sidewalks, buildings, and the like, does she experience the world without seeing it thought a filter of the male mind.

Law, Religion, Science, Grammar, and all other constructs of Western Culture, reflect a male Mental Sex view of the world. But, it is not the T perspective which women must synthesize, it is the K perspective which essentially calls for Structure.

So, women are able to access all the benefits of a K-based society, even though it is not in their native tongue of D. In fact, one might say that many women do not even know how to speak D because they were educated wholly in K. Ironic that so many Elementary teachers are women, providing instruction on how to be K when they, themselves, have a D operating system!

As a result of all this, we decided to make the first model of the Story Mind that would be created to be cast in the K-based standard of our culture. Effectively, the Story Mind is Male Mental Sex. And as a result of that, certain dramatic combinations (including the “illegal” signpost and journey combinations) simply cannot appear without violating that perspective and giving the overall story a split personality.

If you’d like to know more about this aspect of the “hidden” workings of the Story Engine, visit my Mental Relativity Web Site.

(Mental Relativity is the name Chris and I gave to the psychology of the Story Mind itself.)

Dramatica – Where’d the Idea Come From?

Chris Huntley and I began our exploration of story structure in 1980. He and I had met a few years earlier while we were both attending the University of Southern California and both making short films.

I had left school early to go to work in the industry and, frustrated by working on the periphery of the industry at that time, I put together a low-budget feature film project and enlisted Chris’ partnership in producing a movie.

The result was a horrible little film that suffered no so much from budgetary restrictions as from our lack of knowledge of sound story structure. So, when we began to consider our next production, we thought we’d first take a stab at trying to determine what a sound story structure ought to be.

We made lists and graphs and assembled everything we knew. And we discovered… that we didn’t know much about story structure! In fact, we put the whole project on hold until we could gather a little more experience from the industry and from life in general.

Chris went into motion control special effects work for Imax movies, and I went into the industry at large as a writer/producer/director and mostly editor of non-features, high budget industrials, and educationals.

Later, Chris become the co-founder of Write Bros. – the company that created the world’s first screenplay formatting software (and won a technical achievement award from the Academy).

One day in 1991, Chris asked me to breakfast and asked if I’d like to start up our old story structure project again. I was thrilled to do so. I was editing a feature film at the time so each morning before I went off to the editing room and before Chris went off to be V.P. of his company, we’d get together over coffee and try to crack the story structure nut.

We were both committed to this project, and it wasn’t long before we started having some insights that made sense to us but that we had never heard in any of our classes at USC.

After six months, we had created a number of understandings about story structure, but lacked a unifying concept that would tie them all together. We tried starting a book about our findings, but got bogged down. Eventually, Chris suggested that we present our work to his partner, Steve Greenfield.

Steve was completely taken with the ideas we offered, and he and Chris determined that rather than a book, perhaps our best approach was to create a new piece of software for writers that would help them employ our concepts in building sound stories.

I was asked to come to their company as a consultant, and as my editing job had just completed, I agreed. Thus began a three year full-time effort to redefine the nature of what stories are and how they work.

Few are those who have the luxury of being paid to spend three years sitting in a room pondering the mechanics of story structure to the exclusion of all else. But that was the situation I was provided.

We began with index cards and post-it notes, sticking every individual concept (and there were hundreds of them) all over all four walls of my office, and later of the entire conference room!

Seeing it all spread out like that made it possible to note certain patterns and connections among some of these notions. We began to see that psychology played a large part in stories.

This came about by Chris asking a crucial question: “If the Main Character (like Scrooge in A Christmas Carol) is actually the cause of the story’s problems, why can’t he see it and just change?”

Of course, this spoke of issues far beyond stories that were essential to our own psychological issues as a species.

We started to gather all the psychological material we had developed into one place on one of the walls. Some of it seemed to fit well with the main character, but other material, though clearly psychological in nature, seemed to pertain more to the story at large, though we had no idea what to make of this. There was no pattern that explained it.

One day, while staring for the nth hour at that wall, it just hit me – maybe the psychological material we had discovered in stories weren’t about just the main character – maybe they were about the story itself. Maybe the story itself had a psychology! In fact, perhaps story structure was a model of the story’s mind!

I ran down the hall to Chris’ office and hit him with the notion. As was his practice, he leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and fell into a meditative state, closing all else from his mind. After a few moments he sat upright and responded, “I believe you are right.”

From that point forward, everything we did was based on the Story Mind concept. We reorganized all of our material assuming that it referred to the psychology of the story’s mind. Suddenly, patterns appeared, relationships were suggested, and the various components we had discovered fell right into place.

Our arrangements became more and more complex until we found ourselves hard-pressed to make them work in a single chart. It was then that we tried putting the cards in levels, placing “smaller” units under larger umbrella units into which they seemed to fall.

But how to depict this nested structure? Chris played around with pyramid shapes, I tried twisting mobius strips around donut-shaped toroids. Eventually, we settled on the four towers – not as the only shape of story structure, but as the most convenient shape with which to appreciate its internal mechanisms and relationships.

Later, I read that Crick and Watson (the two fellows that discovered the double-helix shape of DNA) didn’t find it through observation. At the time, the best imagery available of DNA was made by bombarding DNA’s crystalline form with X-Rays.

But Crick and Watson had a gut feeling that the shape of “live” DNA was more elegant, perhaps some sort of spiral. They decided to play with a number of alternative shapes as candidates that might explain all the properties that had been observed about DNA. To this end, they ordered a set of custom-made industrial “tinker-toys” which were used by chemists to illustrate molecular bonds.

They play around with various combination until, while building a ladder shape, they twisted it to form the now-familiar double-helix. As soon as they actually saw this representation, then new intuitively that it was correct and ran off to share their work with colleagues.

Chris and I unknowingly followed the same process. In the years that followed, we came to the conclusion that the towers are like the crystalline form of DNA – it represents a mind’s psychology at rest. But the mind is a machine made of time – every component, every gear and widget is actually a process.

When you put it into motion to create a “live” model, like DNA it becomes a helix, but in the case of story structure it forms a quad-helix, rather than a double one.

That’s about as deep as I want to go into how the Dramatica Chart developed in the first place. But, as a special treat for those of you who are gluttons for punishment, here’s an explanation of the workings of the structure, conceptually (for now!).

Where to begin without getting all technical-ish… Well, that’s a good start already!

Okay. The Dramatica Chat has four levels. And it has four Towers. What do these represent? The four towers represent the four key elements of our minds. Just as DNA is made up of four bases: adenine (abbreviated A), cytosine (C), guanine (G) and thymine (T), the structure of the Story Mind is made up of four bases: knowledge (abbreviated K), thought (T), ability (A) and desire (D).

Knowledge is the Mass of the mind. Thought is the mind’s Energy. Ability is the equivalent of Space and Desire is the counterpart to Time.

Just as mass and energy can relate in a simple way, such as when force slams one billiard ball into another, thought can rearrange knowledge and bring disparate pieces of knowledge together or move them apart.

Mass and energy can also interact in a more complex manner in which, for example, a small amount of mass can release a tremendous amount of energy in a nuclear explosion. Similarly, Knowledge and thought can interact so that a small amount of knowledge can generate an awful lot of thought (and conversely, it take a lot of thought to create a single bit of true knowledge!)

Ability is like space insofar as space defines the edges of what exists from what does not. Ability defines what we know from what we don’t know. It determines how much of anything is known vs. how much is unknown. It is from this that calculation that our minds assess our ability.

Desire is functions in the mind as Time does in the universe. Desire does not exist without a comparative between what was, what is, and what may be, just as time does not exist without an appreciation of past, present, and future.

So, the four towers are Knowledge, Thought, Ability, and Desire. (Which is which and why is for a later discussion. This, after all, is just an introductory section for a conversational book about story structure!)

But, the four levels represent Mass, Energy, Space, and Time directly. The four dimensions of the outer world are reflected by the four dimensions of the inner world. In fact, each set is a reflection of the other with neither being the origin.

Existence cannot be understood wholly from either a material or immaterial perspective. Perception is required to enable existence, and vice versa. Thus, the Dramatica chart isn’t just some stupid cutesy little made-up list of a few dramatic concepts. Nope. Its actually a material/immaterial continuum in which all that exists can be described by its co-ordinates within the construct.

Now, before I start sounding like the “Architect” from the Matrix Trilogy (assuming it is not too late already), we’ll put these topics to rest for a while and return to our happy-go-lucky free-wheelin’ conversational introduction to Dramatica Theory. So there.