Story 360 Conference Made My Head Spin…in a Good Way!

Lorin Oberweger, leader of Story 360 Writing Conference, and happy sttendee Debbie Burke

by Debbie Burke

The views from the top floor of the Centre Club in downtown Tampa, Florida were 360 degrees, vast and expansive. So was the content at the aptly named Story 360 Writing Conference I attended a couple of weekends ago. I came away almost dizzy from the talks by Christopher Vogler, Donald Maass, Janice Hardy, and other authors.

Don Maass is a respected agent, educator, and author of Writing the Breakout Novel, The Emotional Craft of Fiction, Writing 21st Century Fiction, plus numerous novels. His all-day master class on Friday, “Writing with Soul,” was packed with prompts and questions for writers to ask themselves. His style is not to present fiction writing techniques but rather to lead you up a ladder to the high diving board and push you off.

He reframed conflict, a typical requirement for stories, into provocation. Every line of dialogue is a provocation that requires a response. He said to a woman in the audience, “You look nice today,” to which she responded, “You want to get closer, take a better look?” That comeback brought down the house because it perfectly illustrated Don’s point.

He asked, “What event in your story provokes a response from your protagonist?” then offered possibilities: a compliment, an insult, a temptation, a dare, an embarrassment, a setback, a wound, a gift, etc.

Next, he asked, “What is your protagonist’s response to that provocation?” Beyond the primary responses of fight, flight, or freeze, he added diffuse, appease, dissent, ignore, judge, respond in kind, reach out in sympathy, walk away in disgust, or tell the world.

For the last choice, he described a guy in a NY Irish bar who is provoked and loudly announces to everyone there, “Did you hear what he said to me? Did you hear what that &%*$ said to me?”

The character’s response is what we as readers would like to do, not what we would actually do.

Don’s talk yielded 34 pages of hastily scribbled notes plus kept my mind spinning like a hamster in a wheel.

Thanks for a sleepless night, Don!

While talking with other attendees, I learned many of them are frequent flyers who’d taken Don’s classes previously and keep coming back. That says it all.

~~~

Side note: Several people had been to a conference years ago that featured the trifecta of Don, Chris Vogler, and TKZ’s own Jim Bell. I’d love to see those guys get the band back together again. Anyone else at TKZ in favor of a reunion concert?

~~~

Linda Hurtado Bond, Debbie Burke

On Saturday, I met Linda Hurtado Bond, an Emmy-winning 30-year veteran TV reporter in Tampa who’s also written six thrillers. Her latest book is All the Captive Girls set during Gasparilla, an annual Mardi Gras-style festival that celebrates pirates, drinking, pirate ships, drinking, pirate parades, drinking, pirate costumes…you get the idea.

She talked about how she had parlayed Gasparilla events into video promotions on her social media. Videos included her visit behind the scenes at the barn where parade floats are stored; a local bar/restaurant off the main drag that partnered with her to give visibility to both the business and her book; Linda’s Jeep decorated with lights driving in the parade while she, in a pirate costume, handed out beads to the crowd.

She acknowledges most introverted writers aren’t as extraverted as she is, nor do they have her recognizability from TV. Even so she advises authors to “Just be there” at community events because you never know what opportunities you might discover.

She recommends visiting bookstores, attending arts-related fairs, connecting with book clubs and book podcasters. To build your email list, do joint promotions with another author or a local business. Have something to offer—your expertise and willingness to answer questions; ARCs (advance reader copies); a book box with swag. As a breast cancer survivor, Linda participated in a fundraiser with her books as prizes.

Ask what you can do for the reader or audience. In other words, promotion is not about you, it’s about them and what they want, need, or enjoy.

I WANT to find out what high-octane vitamins Linda takes.

~~~

Sheree Greer and Debbie Burke

Sheree L. Greer is a Tampa-based author of fiction and creative nonfiction, as well as a business consultant, writing instructor, developmental editor, and new mom. She proudly showed phone photos of her bright-eyed, two-month-old little girl. She also admitted to new-baby exhaustion. However, not a trace of fatigue showed in Sheree’s vibrant presentation.

Sheree displayed a slide of two intersecting circles. One circle was want, the other was need. The oval where they overlapped was desire. Desire is the combination of wanting and needing something. She suggested a prompt to write about something you wanted or needed but didn’t get.

At age 35, Sheree’s need to stay sober intersected with her want to learn more about her past. That led to a desire to connect with her father. During their meeting he talked about his struggle with alcoholism. When she mentioned her age, he responded, “I was thirty-five when you were born.” At that moment, the common denominators of age and alcoholism linked them. She got to know herself through getting to know her father.

More prompts included creating a desire list for your character. Discover if the character shares her desires or hides them.

Three additional questions:

  1. At the start of your story, who knows about her desire?
  2. By the middle of your story, who knows about her desire?
  3. By the end, who knows about her desire?

Considering the character’s desire in that light was a fresh concept to me. It went beyond the usual questions about story stakes like what happens if a character fails, or what happens if they succeed?

Sheree also talked about interiority or the inner thoughts of a character. If a character is alone and thinking about themselves for too long, readers lose interest. Instead, she suggests focusing on the tension between the character’s inner wants/needs in contrast with the external happenings of the scene.

I DESIRE more insights like Sheree’s to lift my writing to the next level.

~~~

 

Janice Hardy, Sheree L. Greer, Debbie Burke, Eileen McIntyre

Janice Hardy runs Fiction University, an educational site she founded in 2009 that’s crammed with practical, actionable advice on writing. Her talk also focused on character’s wants and needs but from a different perspective. She says, “When want and need pull in opposite directions, the story gets interesting.”

She defines want as what the character thinks will make her happy; need is what will really make her happy. “Impossible desire” is the empty hole in a character’s soul.

When faced with a saggy middle, Janice suggests this is the place in the story to go deeper rather than wider. By wider, she means adding more activity. Deeper is where the author should force the character to make hard choices. Every choice must cause consequences in the plot.

The middle can feature false victories, where the character believes they’re making progress toward a goal but aren’t. Another possibility for the middle is false failure, where they believe they’ve failed but later discover the failure actually leads to success.

Janice recalled a conference when she experienced severe imposter syndrome. She was the unknown newbie on a panel with Lee Child and Maya Angelou. Janice understandably felt awkward and didn’t know what to say. Then those two luminaries admitted they also struggled with self-doubt at the start of each book. At that point, Janice realized self-doubt is normal for authors no matter how accomplished.

Janice is the author of a series of writing craft books. She’s also a meticulous, organized plotter, the polar opposite of my pantsing chaos.

I NEED to clean up my act, so I bought Janice’s book Planning Your Novel-Ideas and Structure.

~~~

Legends Christopher Vogler and Donald Maass

In the mid-1980s, Chris Vogler wrote a seven-page memo that famously blew through Hollywood like a Florida hurricane. The memo grew into the classic textbook for screenwriting and storytelling, The Writer’s Journey – Mythic Structure for Writers. The book has remained a perennial bestseller, including a 25th anniversary edition in 2020, and is still going strong.

Meeting Chris in person was the numero uno reason I attended the conference. My upcoming craft-of-writing book, The Villain’s Journey – How to Create Villains Readers Love to Hate, is the flip side to the Hero’s Journey which Chris explores in depth in The Writer’s Journey.

True confession time: Although Chris and I had previously exchanged friendly emails, I was intimidated about meeting him in person. During the lunch break, I even had to call a friend for support. She told me to get my sorry cowardly ass into the room and introduce myself.

Well…I did.

Chris was warm, friendly, down to earth, and not at all intimidating. We chatted about my book, and he could not have been more gracious, encouraging, and supportive.

In his Sunday presentation, Chris explained archetypes are stereotypes but deeper. He talked about impressions on cave walls made by prehistoric people who had a deep need to leave their mark, to say I had a life, I was here.

He showed a slide with two sets of ancient footprints that had been preserved under ash for thousands of years. One set was large and one small, probably a mother and child running through mud while fleeing a volcanic eruption. They had left their mark for a roomful of writers who, centuries later, were still moved by their plight.

That illustrated the universality and timeless power of stories.

Chris introduced us to a collection of lesser-known Greek gods, along with their family lineage. Each was the personification of a particular quality or theme.

One example was Arete. Her mother was the goddess of justice and her father the god of safety and security. Those qualities blended in Arete who embodied grace, virtue, excellence, and perfection. Arete’s evil twin sister was Cacia (Kakia) who embodied vice and immorality.

Chris then displayed a slide of a related myth. In the historic line drawing, young Hercules is shown at a crossroads where he encounters two beautiful women. “Cacia” points at the easy road going downhill toward quick material riches. “Arete” points at the other road which goes uphill through difficulties but ultimately leads to immortality by leaving a lasting mark on the world.

The character at a crossroads who must make a choice remains a relatable theme that today’s characters still face.

The goddess Themis (notice the similarity to “theme”) established the laws of the universe. Her daughter Dike laid out the laws of the world and human life—the moral code. Dike’s evil twin sister was Adikia, goddess of injustice and wrongdoing.

Today’s characters still face dilemmas of right and wrong.

Agon is the god of struggle. His name is also the root of the words “agony,” “protagonist,” and “antagonist.” Still relevant and relatable in today’s stories.

Chris presented more gods and goddesses, too many to include in this already-long post. At the end of his talk, I asked him if he was going to write a book based on his presentation. He smiled and said, “I already have.” The manuscript is near completion.

When it’s published, I NEED and WANT to read it.

~~~

One last shoutout to Lorin Oberweger and her team who brought together a 360-degree world of vision, talent, and knowledge. A big thank you for a fabulous, memorable conference! My head is still spinning.

~~~

TKZers, have you been to a conference that made a lasting impact on your writing? Please share that experience.

~~~

 

Please check out my upcoming book The Villain’s Journey-How to Create Villains Readers Love to Hate. Preorder now at this link and the ebook will be delivered to your device on July 13, 2025.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mythic Structure: Refusal of the Call to Adventure

by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

From The Writer’s Journey by Christopher Vogler (click to enlarge)

You know me. I love popping the hood on story and looking at all the moving parts. Mainly because I want to build the best story engine I can, but also to teach it. Which means getting greasy and messing around. Today, I want to examine a beat from mythic structure—Refusal of the Call to Adventure. I haven’t given this a lot of thought in the past, but recently I’ve noticed it more and more in classic movies and decided to give it some study.

The Hero’s Journey begins in an ordinary world with the hero receiving a Call to Adventure—by way of invitation, yearning, temptation, or message. But the hero initially refuses. Only later will he be thrust over the Threshold (what I call The Doorway of No Return) into the “special world.”

So what’s the point of this beat? As my friend and teaching colleague Chris Vogler explains in his essential guide The Writer’s Journey:  

The halt on the road before the journey serves an important dramatic function of signaling the audience that the adventure is risky. It’s not a frivolous undertaking but a danger-filled, high-stakes gamble in which the hero might lose fortune or life.

In other words, it gives the reader the sense that death—physical, professional, or psychological—is truly on the line once the hero enters Act 2.

For example, Luke Skywalker sees the hologram from Princess Lea pleading for help from Obi-Wan Kenobi. Luke wonders if that could mean “old Ben Kenobi.” A bit later Luke finds Ben and sure enough he is Obi-Wan. Ben views Lea’s entire message, pleading with him to come help in the fight against the Empire. Ben then calls on Luke to join the adventure, but Luke refuses:

BEN
You must learn the ways of the Force
if you’re to come with me to Alderaan.

LUKE
Alderaan? I’m not going to Alderaan.
I’ve got to go home. It’s late, I’m
in for it as it is.

BEN
I need your help, Luke. She needs
your help. I’m getting too old for
this sort of thing.

LUKE
I can’t get involved! I’ve got work
to do! It’s not that I like the
Empire. I hate it! But there’s nothing
I can do about it right now. It’s
such a long way from here.

BEN
That’s your uncle talking.

LUKE
Oh, God, my uncle. How am I
ever going to explain this?

BEN
Learn about the Force, Luke.

LUKE
Look, I can take you as far as
Anchorhead. You can get a transport
there to Mos Eisley or wherever you’re
going.

BEN
You must do what you feel is right,
of course.

Another example: In The Wizard of Oz Dorothy is called to adventure by her yearning to find a place where there is no trouble. So she runs away as a first step. But then she meets Professor Marvel. He figures out what’s going on and uses an emotional ploy to get Dorothy to refuse the call. He looks at his crystal ball and pretends to see an old woman in a polka dot dress. “Why she’s crying. Someone has hurt her. Someone has just about broken her heart.” That gets to Dorothy, and she returns to the farm. [In mythic terms, Professor Marvel is a character known as The Mentor, who often appears in Act 1 as the conscience of the Hero.]

In both these examples the refusal of the call is related to duty. Specifically, familial duty.

Another form of duty is professional. In my favorite movie of all time, Shane (1953), the mysterious gunfighter fleeing his past takes a job working for homesteader Joe Starrett. Starrett instructs Shane to avoid trouble in town where the cattle men hang out in the saloon. The first time Shane shows up he’s tagged and shamed by one of the cowboys. It’s a call to fight back. But Shane refuses the call because of his pledged duty to his benefactor. For this he is labeled a coward by the other homesteaders. Knowing he has to overcome this for the benefit of the community, he later answers the call by giving his tormentor a thumping. He is then set upon by the entire gang—until Joe joins the fight and helps Shane beat them all up. That puts them both across the Threshold and in the crosshairs of death.

Still another form of refusal comes from self-doubt or fear. A famous example is Rocky. Pug fighter Rocky Balboa is given an incredible call to adventure—the chance to fight the heavyweight champion of the world!

Rocky immediately says, “No.” When asked why, he explains, “I’m really a ham-and-egger. This guy is the best. It wouldn’t be such a good fight.” In this way the stakes are set at the highest level before Rocky takes on the challenge.

I had an email conversation with Chris about all this, and he added another form of refusal (reprinted by permission):

Here’s another major category that can trigger refusal of the call: Bitter Experience. This is why hard-boiled detectives often turn down the case at first. They intuitively know that the investigation will lead them into dangerous places where they came close to death or somebody they cared about was killed. You also find this in comedies like the Hope-Crosby road movies where they are both wary of getting roped into the other’s schemes which have proved so dangerous in the past. In a romance, broken-hearted people are reluctant to open up to love again.

The prime example of Bitter Experience is Casablanca. Rick Blaine had his heart shattered when the woman he loved, Ilsa Lund, abandoned him in Paris just before the Nazi occupation. He has set up shop in Casablanca to forget her. His café is allowed to operate because he takes no sides in the war. His Call to Adventure comes when Ugarte, the scheming rat who murdered German couriers to obtain the valuable Letters of Transit, begs Rick to hide him from the police. Rick refuses with the classic line, “I stick my neck out for nobody.”

Overcoming the Refusal

So the hero has refused to answer the call. Something, then, has to happen to push the hero over the Threshold (through the Doorway).

In Star Wars Luke’s aunt and uncle are killed by Imperial stormtroopers. Thus, the familial duty is removed and Luke has reason and opportunity to join the Rebellion.

Or the hero herself can be removed from the duty. Dorothy is literally taken up and away from Kansas and deposited in Oz.

In Casablanca (Bitter Experience) Ilsa shows up at Rick’s café with her husband, the freedom fighter Victor Laszlo. In this way Rick is forced over the Threshold because his ordinary world has been changed to a special world (not his choice!) for now he must deal with his conflicted emotions and decide whether to help Isla and Victor or remain aloof.

A refusal out of fear or self-doubt must be overcome with a strong emotional jolt. In Finding Nemo, Marlin, Nemo’s father, is afraid of the open ocean because of a past traumatic event—a barracuda attack that killed his wife, Cora, and most of their eggs. He is therefore overprotective of his surviving son, Nemo. Nemo keeps calling his father to adventure—exploring the sea, finding a sea turtle, etc. But Marlin refuses. He is full of fear and self-doubt about his ability to protect his son.

So what emotional jolt forces him into the dark world of the open ocean? Nemo is captured by scuba divers! Marlin has no choice, he must find Nemo! There is familial duty once again—perhaps the strongest of all emotions—only this time it’s the stimulus to cross the Threshold. If we didn’t have the refusal as a way of understanding the source of Marlin’s fears, the subsequent journey would not have as much depth.

The Refusal of the Call is useful tool for story construction. Because it happens early—somewhere in Act 1—you can pants it or plan it. Once you have it, though, it will tell you a lot about your main character and provide fodder for backstory material.

Some questions to ask:

  • What reason does my Lead have to resist the call to adventure? Is there duty involved? Family ties? Or is it more a matter of fear, self-doubt, or bitter experience?
  • What were the pre-story circumstances that gave rise to this refusal? Was there a traumatic event that haunts my Lead in the present? Was my Lead’s heart broken?
  • What event is strong enough to overcome the Lead’s refusal? How can you increase the emotional level of this event?

Let the journey begin.

Resonance and The Reader’s Journey

Resonance and The Reader’s Journey

Why Does Good Story Structure Resonate?

by Steve Hooley

 

 

We discuss the importance of story structure frequently on this blog site. It is often said that good structure will keep the reader engaged and will allow the story to “resonate” with the reader. But how often do we discuss why the structure resonates? And is there anything to be learned for our writing from the answer to the “why” question?

Recently this question hit me and made me start looking for answers. I was watching the news about the Surfside Condo collapse in Miami-Dade County, specifically the ceremony that took place at the end of the rescue efforts and the beginning of the recovery phase. It struck me, at first, that this was a necessary step to prevent victim’s families from being upset that the rescue efforts were ending. But as I watched, I began to realize that people need ceremony.

  • To memorialize significant events
  • To aid in transitioning to the next stage in life
  • To reflect on the past
  • To plan for the future

Then the idea hit me that this is similar to story structure. Readers need structure, with all the signposts, pillars, and doorways along the way.

  • For the story to resonate
  • For the reader to be captured by the story
  • For the reader to identify with the main character
  • For the story arc to feel right

But that still didn’t answer the question: Why does the story structure resonate?

I began looking for answers in the psychological research literature. There are plenty of studies that show the benefits of routine and structure in making life more meaningful and more productive. We all know that. There are studies that shine light on the techniques (and hormones) that increase tension and empathy. But still, what is the connection between structure and resonance?

Let’s first look at resonance. It is defined as “the quality in a sound of being deep, full, and reverberating.” And from Physics: “the reinforcement or prolongation of sound by reflection from a surface or by synchronous vibration of a neighboring object.” For example, in a stringed instrument, the walls of the instrument pick up the vibration of the string, multiplying and enriching the sound.

Thus, we are looking at a story touching something within the reader that is captured and begins to vibrate along with the story, magnifying and enriching the story. In other words, what is it within the reader that he/she identifies with the structure, that is similar in some way, and reverberates and resonates?

I offer the following theory for discussion. Agree, disagree, or give us your theory:

 Story structure resonates with readers because it causes the reader to subconsciously identify their own life’s milestones, ceremonies, and arc, with the story structure (either as their life has been lived out, or as they wish it had been, or could be in the future). In other words, the reader hangs their life on the story structure (subconsciously), and hopes for a better outcome.

Here are some quotes from Christopher Vogler, The Writer’s Journey, about “the Hero’s Journey” (story structure based on patterns of mythology and the work of Joseph Campbell, The Hero with a Thousand Faces):

The Writer’s Journey, Christopher Vogler:

Preface, Second Edition:

p. xiii

“I came to believe that the Hero’s Journey is nothing less than a handbook for life, a complete instruction manual in the art of being human.”

p. xiv

“The Hero’s Journey is a pattern that seems to extend in many dimensions, describing more than one reality. It accurately describes, among other things, … the passage of a soul through life.”

“In the description of the Hero’s Journey they might have picked up some insight about their own lives, some useful metaphor or way of looking at things, some language or principle that defines their problem and suggests a way out of it.”

“…the pleasurable shock of recognition as the patterns resonate with what they’ve seen in stories and in their own lives.”

“…shared attitude about myths—that they are not abstract theories or the quaint beliefs of ancient peoples, but practical models for understanding how to live.”

p. xv

“Joseph Campbell’s great accomplishment was to articulate clearly something that had been there all along—the life principles embedded in the structure of stories.”

Introduction, second edition

p. xxvii

“Good stories make you feel you’ve been through a satisfying, complete experience. You’ve cried or laughed or both. You finish the story feeling you’ve learned something about life or about yourself.”

p. xxix

“The Hero’s Journey, I discovered, is more than just a description of the hidden patterns of mythology. It is a useful guide to life…”

p. xxxii

“The Hero’s Journey has served storytellers and their listeners since the very first stories were told, and it shows no signs of wearing out. Let’s begin the Writer’s Journey together to explore these ideas. I hope you find them useful as magic keys to the world of story and the labyrinth of life.”

And from Lisa Cron, Wired for Story

Chapter 9, What Can Go Wrong, Must Go Wrong – And Then Some

Cognitive Secret: The brain uses stories to simulate how we might navigate difficult situations in the future.

Story Secret: A story’s job is to put the protagonist through tests that, even in her wildest dreams, she doesn’t think she can pass.

p. 167-168

“What is the benefit, survival-wise, that led to the neural rush of enjoyment a good story unleashes, effectively disconnecting us from the otherwise incessant Sturm and Drang of daily life? The answer is clear: it lets us sit back and vicariously experience someone else suffering the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, the better to learn how to dodge those darts should they ever be aimed at us.”

And here are some ideas for life events and corresponding structure milestones:

  • Birth                                                                     Opening Disturbance
  • Graduation                                                           Doorway of No Return #1
  • Midlife crisis                                                         The Mirror Moment
  • Retirement                                                           Doorway of No Return #2
  • Recovery from life-threatening illness                  Final Battle
  • Determination to make end-of-life meaningful     Transformation

Please give us other ideas for life events and corresponding milestones. Could these be built into story structure?

 And here are the questions:

  1. Do you agree with the proposed theory?
  2. Or, what theory do you have for structure and resonance?
  3. What life events would you correlate with other milestones?
  4. If this theory is correct, what can we build into our story structure milestones to better grab the reader and make him/her feel the resonance?
  5. Do you have any unique milestones that you build into your stories’ structure to grab the readers and make them feel like they have been through “a satisfying, complete experience?”

Write Awesomely

by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

JSB, Grand Canyon

In last week’s post I mentioned I would be driving all day, and that was quite true. Mrs. B and I needed to get out, get away, do something different. Cindy suggested we motor to the Grand Canyon, just to spend a day looking at something big, majestic, unsullied and quiet.

Turns out my wife’s instinct was right on the money. Scientific research suggests that several benefits flow from the experience of awe—“from happiness and health to perhaps more unexpected benefits such as generosity, humility, and critical thinking.”

In The Nature Fix: Why Nature Makes Us Happier, Healthier, and More Creative, Florence Williams emphasizes the need to get away from anthrophone. This refers to the soundscapes created by things like cities, cars, planes, machines, lawn mowers, sirens, neighbors with a teenager who is taking up the drums, and such like. The thing is, that noise goes into our brains and triggers our “fight or flight” receptors. Over time this can create chronic stress, a very real danger to our collective health and well-being.

On the other hand, natural sounds like a gentle breeze, flowing water, and singing birds are interpreted by our brains as relaxing and rejuvenating. In this state we are more creative and less hostile toward other human beings (hmmm…maybe people should only be allowed to tweet when in a forest).

Photo by JSB

The Grand Canyon is something to behold. If you’ve never been there, put it on your bucket list. Plan to spend at least four hours just looking at it. You can drive to various viewpoints, or take a shuttle bus tour, a helicopter flight, or even ride a mule for an overnight stay at the bottom. We opted for the viewpoints.

Grand Canyon = Awesome. Good for the soul.

Writing awesomely = Good for the reader.

What does it mean to write awesomely? At the very least, it means giving your readers more than a by-the-numbers story. Help them feel something beyond numbers. Tap into the inspirational. After all, that’s what the great myths were for. A hero overcomes tremendous odds so that we, the audience, might exhibit the same courage on our own journey through life.

Heracles kills the Hydra. He does so with a mixture of courage, strength and thought. Since cutting off one of the Hydra’s heads means two more heads replace it, Heracles has his nephew, Iolas, put a torch to each cut to cauterize it. And thus he dispatches the monster. Hey, maybe you can do the same when it seems your bills are like Hydra’s heads.

Or maybe you face a seemingly insoluble problem. If you approach it wisely, like Theseus in the Labyrinth, you can kill your personal Minotaur and find a way back to the world.

In our modern storytelling, we have mythic heroes of various stripes teaching us valuable lessons. Charlotte Vale (Bette Davis) in Now, Voyager, shows us that inner strength and beauty can be developed even under the worst of circumstances. Atticus Finch teaches us that sometimes a losing battle is morally imperative. Heck, even Dirty Harry Callahan shows us that sometimes you have to do whatever it takes to save the innocent—especially a busload of children in the grip of a mad killer. Do you believe that? “Well do ya, punk?”

Driving home with Elixir in the trunk.

So one of the ways to be awesome is to be intentional about the meaning of your story. In my book, The Last Fifty Pages, I talk about the idea of a “life lesson learned.” My friend Chris Vogler, in The Writer’s Journey, calls this the “Return With the Elixir.” It’s what takes a story from tale to myth, from entertainment to exaltation. Why not go for it, every time out?

To prepare, take a little time each day to get away from the anthrophone. There are abundant apps and sites with nature sights and sounds. A fifteen-minute break every now and then seems almost a health mandate these days. So get quiet, forget about Twitter, and maybe the boys in the basement will mix you some elixir.

What is awesome to you? What natural sites have lifted your soul? 

What works of fiction have elevated you, given you a takeaway that is more than entertainment?

Using the Argument Against Transformation to Strengthen Your Story

by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

Today’s post is for structure fans. If you’re a dedicated pantser for whom any thought of form and function causes you to break out in hives, you have my permission to go play Candy Crush, for we are about to take a deep dive into the skeletal framework of storytelling.

This post was prompted by an email from a reader of Super Structure and Write Your Novel From the Middle. The gist of the email is below, reproduced with the sender’s permission:

I’m planning a book that is plot-driven rather than character-driven, so as I look at developing my “Mirror Moment,” I know it’s going to be more about digging deep and finding the strength to face physical and/or psychological death (like in The Fugitive), rather than a specific need to change. I wondered how the twin plot points of “Argument Against Transformation” and “Transformation” worked in that case (since there isn’t an actual transformation)? Are those beats skipped in a plot-driven story?

This is a very intelligent question, and told me immediately that my correspondent has a real grasp of structure and what it’s supposed to accomplish.

He rightly points out there are two kinds of arcs for a main character: 1) he becomes a better version of himself; or 2) he remains the same person fundamentally, but grows stronger through the ordeal. (Note: both of these arcs can be reversed, resulting in tragedy).

In books or movies of the first kind, such as Casablanca, you’ll often find a compelling beat, which I call “the argument against transformation.” It’s a setup move which defines the MC’s journey and pays off nicely at the end, with actual transformation.

Thus Rick, at the end of Casablanca, has transformed from a loner who has withdrawn from the community into a self-sacrificing member of the war effort. Remember at the  airport, when he’s explaining to Ilsa why they can’t go off together? “I’ve got a job to do, too. Where I’m going, you can’t follow. What I’ve got to do you can’t be any part of.”

And two minutes later Rick proves his transformation by shooting Major Strasser right in front of Louis, the French police captain.

Early in Act 1, we have Rick’s argument against such a transformation. That is, he states something that is the opposite of what he will come to believe—and be—at the end. He says it two times, in fact: “I stick my neck out for nobody.”

Another example: At the end of The Wizard of Oz, Dorothy has learned, “There’s no place like home.” But early in Act I, she argues against that notion. She tells Toto there’s got to be a place they can go where there’s no trouble, a place you can’t get to by a boat or a train. A place “behind the moon … beyond the rain …” (cue music).

That’s the first kind of transformation. But my correspondent was asking about the second kind, where the character does not change inside. Here’s what I wrote in response:

In the kind of story you describe, there is a transformation—from weaker to stronger. The hero is forced to survive in the dark world, and must become more resilient. So at the end he is not fundamentally a different person, but is a stronger, more resourceful version of himself.

In thinking about your question, it seems to me that the “argument against transformation” in a “getting stronger” story corresponds to what my friend Chris Vogler labels “Refusal of the Call” (in his book The Writer’s Journey). One example Chris uses is Rocky. When Rocky Balboa is first offered the chance to fight Apollo Creed, he says no. “Well, it’s just that, you see, uh…I fight in clubs, you know. I’m a ham-and-egger. This guy… he’s the best, and, uh, it wouldn’t be such a good fight. But thank you very much, you know.”

Implicit in that refusal is his belief that he’s not strong enough.

The transformation beat comes at the conclusion of the final battle, usually in the form of some visual that shows the stronger self. In Rocky, he’s got Adrian in his arms and adulation from the fans.

In The Fugitive, the argument against transformation is shown cinematically. After Sam Gerard (Tommy Lee Jones) arrives on the scene of the train derailment, we cut to Kimble running through the woods, his face etched with fear. In a book, you could put in Kimble’s inner thoughts about it. I know an operating chamber, not the streets! How am I going to survive?

The Mirror Moment is what holds these two ends of the spectrum together, which is why it is perfectly situated in the middle of a book. The protagonist has a moment when he’s forced to look at his situation, as if in a mirror (sometimes there’s an actual mirror in the scene!). He either thinks, Who am I? What have I become? Will I stay this way? (Casablanca); or, There is no possible way I can survive this…I’m probably going to die! (The Fugitive).

Now, if you pantsers have made it this far without your heads exploding, I congratulate you, and offer this word of comfort: you don’t have to think about structure before you start a project, or while you’re writing it. Go ahead, be as wild and free as you like!

But when the time comes (and it always does) when you need to revise and figure out why something isn’t working—and what you can do to make it work—structure will be there to help you figure it out.

Because story and structure are in love, and there’s no argument against that!

***

Gilstrap Watch: John reports that the surgery “went great.” He feels, naturally, like he “took a beating,” but expects to be “fine in a week or two.” Huzzah! (For those who don’t know what this is about, see John’s post from last Wednesday.)