The Plot Machine Read online

  The Plot Machine

  Copyright © 2015 by Dale Kutzera. All rights reserved.

  Published by Salmon Bay Books.

  Cover and Interior Design by Dale Kutzera.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher, with the sole exception of brief excerpts used in a review.

  In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the author at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

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  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  The Plot Machine (Design Better Stories Faster, #1)

  Introduction

  PART ONE

  The Stories We Tell

  Story Taxonomy

  Design Guide

  PART TWO

  The Parts of a Story

  PART THREE

  The Framework of a Story

  PART FOUR

  Joining Elements into Sequences

  PART FIVE

  The Plot Machine

  PART SIX

  Design and Writing

  About the Author

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  Further Reading: Bio Adversity

  Also By Dale Kutzera

  Contents

  The Plot Machine

  Introduction

  Part One: Stories

  The Role of Stories in Society

  Story Taxonomy

  Design Principles

  Part Two: Elements

  Starting the design

  Hero’s Goal

  Hero’s Endeavor

  Who is Your Hero?

  Part Three: Framework

  Traditional Story Structure

  General Framework

  Framework Subdivisions

  Framework Variations

  Part Four: Sequences

  Finding Connections

  Defeat to Victory

  Normal World to Endeavor

  Endeavor and Hero’s Arc

  Part Five: The Plot Machine

  Five Case Studies

  Part Six: Writing

  Introduction

  Books on story structure typically describe the three-act framework and that’s about it. They break stories down into traditional parts and sub-parts and present lists of necessary components. They may even reverse-engineer novels and movies to illustrate how structure has been successfully employed. This is great to a point, but reverse-engineering stories doesn’t help you write your story.

  What you need is a sequence of steps that takes you from blank page to working outline. What you need is a design process...a Plot Machine.

  I use the word design because it is helpful to think of this process as separate from the act of writing. Let’s say you crash on an alien planet. Your spaceship is wrecked, but several aliens pull you to safety and promise to build a house for you to live in.

  Three things must happen. First, you must describe to the aliens what a house is and the function it serves to keep you warm and dry. Second, you have to understand the physical components of a house—floor, walls, roof, and doors—and how they are arranged. Lastly, you have to evaluate the materials on this strange planet and determine how they might be used to make a home. Perhaps some trees could be used for beams and some crystal for windows.

  The process is the same in designing a story. You have to know what a story is and the function it serves in society. You need know the various components that comprise a traditional narrative: characters, situations, goals, obstacles, and themes. And then you must evaluate the ideas you have and determine how they can be arranged in an overall design.

  Is story design essential? Probably not. Many writers dive into prose with just a few story elements in place. They make their plots up on the fly, or by extensive editing after a mountain of prose has been written. There’s nothing wrong with this process, but it isn’t very efficient. And today’s writer’s, whether traditionally or independently published, recognize the importance of quantity as well as quality.

  If you desire the rewards of building a large audience for your writing, then design skills will help you create a steady flow of stories. This guide is intended to help writers design better stories faster, resulting in cleaner first drafts and greater productivity.

  This book starts off with an introduction to stories and their function in society. We will review a hierarchy of story-types and cover the general parameters of their design.

  Part II begins the design process by assembling the major elements of a story. Part III introduces the traditional story structure upon which story elements are arranged. Part IV examines the challenging task of arranging parts into well-connected sequences. Part V presents a few case studies of using these design principles to break a handful of different story-types.

  Story design is the art of arranging elements in a compelling order. Just as architects design a collection of volumes, writers design events and emotions. No guide can tell you what story to write or how to write it. Your personal artistry it the X-factor that only you can provide. A few coins in the plot machine, however, will provide options, perspective, and most important, a reliable process.

  Let’s get started.

  PART ONE

  Stories

  The Stories We Tell

  If you added up the amount of time human beings read books, watch TV and movies, go to the theater, or just chat around the water cooler, dinner table, or campfire, you may determine that telling stories is the primary human activity. Every society in every corner of the world tells stories.

  Why are stories so central to human life?

  Because they are our best survival skill.

  We lack coats of fur, defensive horns, and sharp claws, but we have stories. For a hundred thousand years, homo sapiens have passed information through stories, myths, fables, and legends. They help us find food and mates, survive predators and natural disasters, and understand the world around us.

  Those individuals that failed in this critical skill (Yes, I’m talking about you, Neanderthals!) were less likely to survive and procreate. You can, therefore, make a strong claim that modern humans evolved to be story-tellers and story-consumers. We seek stories just as we seek food and water.

  In our modern world stories are more about entertainment than survival, but the primitive need they satisfy remains active in our dinosaur brains. Seen in this light, the value of any story is not in the story itself, but the information and wisdom it conveys to the consumer.

  At its most basic form, a story is a recounting of events. It might be what you did at work, something that happened over the weekend, or what you did over summer vacation. Some stories are short, others long. Some merely recount unrelated events like a laundry list of items, while others present a sequence of related incidents that add up to some insightful conclusion.

  This latter definition is what we typically mean when we talk about stories. Over the millennia, such stories have taken on a traditional structure and utilize a customary set of elements. While the means of telling a story have changed from spoken poems and plays to novels and motion pictures, the components of a story have changed little.

  Stories still involve characters in a difficult situation undertaking a great endeavor to reach a goal.

  These key elements define what we consider an effective story, one that appeals to a l
arge audience, holds their interest, and provides lasting meaning even after the telling has ended. These are the kind of stories people pay good money to experience, and they are probably the kind of stories you want to design. To recap:

  A character or characters...

  in a difficult situation...

  undertake an endeavor...

  to reach a goal.

  THESE ELEMENTS ARE typically arranged into three main sections or acts.

  Act 1: introduces the characters and their situation.

  Act 2: sets them on the endeavor.

  Act 3: depicts their success or failure to reach their goal.

  Dividing a story into three acts goes back to the plays of ancient Greece and probably even further. The practice has been codified in countless screenwriting manuals. Readers are so accustomed to this story structure that many novelists have embraced it as a way to frame a story. It is the basis of most full-length novels, plays, operas, and motion pictures.

  But this is just the broadest shape of a story and only presents the main elements a writer must assemble (hero, situation, endeavor, goal). Before we can begin the design process, we need a more specific understanding of the various types of stories we tell each other.

  A Full Length Story

  Act I

  In which the hero is introduced

  and a compelling need established.

  Act II

  In which the hero undertakes a unique

  endeavor to achieve their goal.

  Act III

  In which the hero fails or succeeds.

  Story Taxonomy

  A taxonomy is a fancy term for a means to categorize various things. Just as biologists classify animals into Phylum, Class, and Order, we can group stories according to Motivation, Source, and Target.

  These divisions reflect the general human needs each type of story appeals to. In this regard, the range of stories reflects the human experience of living on Earth, encompassing our physical and emotional desires, our struggle for survival, and our yearning for a better life. Understanding these categories provides a solid foundation on which to build a story. Where your story-idea fits on the chart will influence how it is designed.

  There is obviously some overlap in any hierarchy. Is a character battling a wild animal under threat, or desiring safety? Is a hero pursuing romance satisfying an internal or external desire? The exact divisions are not as important as a general understanding of the types of stories we tell. Let’s take a look at each characteristic, starting with the most general division.

  Motivation: Threat or Desire?

  THE TOP LAYER OF OUR taxonomy is Motivation. Just as everything on earth is either animal, vegetable or mineral, all stories can be divided into Threat or Desire. Either a character is under attack or they want something.

  What threats and desires have in common is they place the main character in a compelling situation. The hero is either escaping a threat or pursuing a desire. Audiences can identify with the dramatic conflict inherent in either situation. A threat is something you must survive, and a desire is something difficult to obtain (if the desire was readily available, you’d have it already).

  Threats and desires motivate the hero to undertake the challenge of Act II. The major distinction is that a threat is something impacting the hero, whereas a desire is something the hero is actively pursuing. One is reactive. The other is proactive. Threats imperil the hero’s existing lifestyle, while desires hold the promise of improving his or her circumstances.

  Source: External or Internal?

  THE NEXT LAYER OF DIVISION is the source of the motivation. Where is the threat coming from? What is the object of the hero’s desire?

  Threats can be divided into external and internal. Most are external, ranging from attacking animals to an approaching storm. For thousands of years, our ancestors gathered around campfires and traded stories of surviving external threats. Such stories offer life-saving insights. Today such stories play for entertainment, but they still appeal to our primal fight-or-flight instincts.

  Internal Threats are less tangible and affect our physical or mental health. Illness and injury are universal perils. With people living longer lives, old age and mental impairment are new variations of internal threats.

  Desires can also be divided into external and internal objectives. The same ancient campfires witnessed tales of finding food, a mate, or a comfortable dwelling. Along with the invention of money came stories of finding treasure.

  Internal desires are motivated by emotional or intellectual needs. Detectives pursue criminals out of a sense of justice. Soldiers volunteer out of patriotism. A victim may pursue a tormentor driven by vengeance.

  Target: Individual or Shared?

  THE THIRD CATEGORY divides stories into those affecting just the hero and those affecting a larger community.

  External Threats can target the hero alone or threaten the hero’s village. Likewise, an Internal Threat can afflict only the hero (a broken leg) or present a more general threat (a plague or virus).

  Desires can also be specific to the hero or shared by the larger community. Finding true love typically benefits just the hero. Winning a war or bringing rain to a parched land benefits everyone. The number of characters benefiting is an aspect of scale, a design parameter we will explore shortly.

  This story taxonomy could be extended into ever more specific categories. For example, External Threats could be divided into categories like Acts of Nature (storms), Wild Animals (shark), or Acts of Humankind (war). Further division would be redundant for our purposes. What is important to note is the variety of Threats and Desires and the resulting motivation that will drive your character through the second act of your story.

  Story Taxonomy Chart

  Motivation: Threat or Desire?

  Threat—something attacking hero

  Desire—something hero wants

  Source: Internal or External?

  External Threats—War, Criminals, Fire

  Internal Threats—Disease, Trauma

  External Desire—Money, Food, Shelter

  Internal Desire—Love, Revenge, Honor

  Target: General or Specific?

  General Threats—Storms, War

  Specific Threats—Blackmail, Vendetta

  General Desires—Peace, Prosperity

  Specific Desires—Treasure, a Mate

  Design Guide

  In any design task there are general conventions that guide the process. Before architects puts pencil to paper, they know the type of building they’re designing, the budget, the characteristics of the building site, and any restrictions imposed by zoning codes.

  Before designing a story, a writer should take a moment to understand a few guiding principles. Arranging the elements of a story can be difficult or agonizing (it’s seldom easy), and design guides can help frame the process.

  Entertainment Value

  IT MAY SEEM CRASS TO talk about the entertainment value of a story, but the hard reality is a story’s appeal is based on the quality and quantity of entertainment it delivers.

  At its most basic level, entertainment is the release of tension. A predicament establishes tension and the resolution provides release. A man walking a tightrope creates tension. Reaching the far end safely provides the release.

  What is entertaining varies over time and cultures, but boils down to emotions, action, information, physical feats, and spectacle. These elements can exist on their own. Vaudeville was based on a series of acts—dancing bear, comedian, juggler, singer—that were entertaining on their own, but had no narrative connection.

  You may have some entertaining elements of your story in mind, but don’t fall in love with them at this point. Doing so can tempt you to gerrymander the plot to accommodate a favorite set-piece. Instead, keep in mind the entertainment opportunities of a given story-type and allow room for the hijinks that will be specified later.

  Common Entertainment Values

>   Emotions

  Poetry

  Music

  Comedy

  Beautiful or terrifying scenery

  Physical Conflict

  Fights

  Chases

  Epic battles

  Information

  Puzzles and Riddles

  Secrets revealed

  Physical Feats

  Sports

  Races

  Acrobatics

  Spectacle

  Explosions or Fireworks

  Natural disasters

  Scale

  STORIES CAN BE SMALL and contained or large and sprawling. Contained stories are easier to design and appeal to a broader audience as their entertainment value is conveyed in a compact form. A sprawling story typically involves more people, complex motivations, and a more elaborate structure. Such stories demands a greater investment in time and attention by the writer and the audience.

  Your story may lend itself to different scales. A crime story may unfold in one city in a few days. A fantasy epic could span centuries and solar systems. Private Investigators typically work in one town, but a secret agent is expected to travel the globe.

  In addition to time and locations, scale can be measured by the number of characters and plot lines. Romances, soap operas, and historical dramas often explore a single location through a variety of characters and plots.

  Almost any story-type can be adjusted in scale. Sometimes boiling down an idea can heighten the dramatic impact by removing extraneous elements. Conversely, expanding the scope can broaden the spectrum of emotions and deepen the experience.