Sustaining a Story Idea: Part 2

 

Be sure to watch Sustaining a Story Idea: Part 1 before this one!

Now we all have stories to tell. Sort of. Most of it is a mish-mash of abstract scenes and imagery, stranded in the murky depths of our minds. According to Will Eisner, a story is not a story until it is "told in an arranged and purposeful order." This means that those abstract scenes in your mind are not stories at all; they are just ideas and nothing more. To prematurely call them stories is not only false, but dangerous. It tricks you into thinking that you've overcome the hardest part.

Step 1: Want

No sustained character can exist without a desire, a want that permeates the story. It is the carrot dangling before their nose, and they will chase it till the end. If there is no carrot, there is either no story, or little reason for the story. They must want something; and as a twist, that something will not always be precisely what they expected. There is the external, material Want, which is more obvious; and then there is the internal, personal Want, the discovery of which is usually a major "point" of the story. A summary of the above video would go like this, sandwiched by the external and internal Wants:

A lonely writer who wants to tell a story about love goes on a drunken journey and ultimately realizes he wants the real thing.

The best stories veer toward an unexpected ending. Give the protagonist the present they never knew they wanted...or deserved.

A very old man wants to be left alone after the death of his wife and becomes a recluse. He is evicted and is forced to live with his grown daughter, an executive struggling against the void of a corporate career. Because she inherited her mother's ambitious personality, he begins to enjoy her company. She finds him to be a burden and plans to send him to an old folk's home, the same thing her mother did to her grandparents. Father and daughter squabble. The old man, too proud, stops taking his medication and passes away, to be with his wife.

Regardless of the quality of the story I just made up, notice how the old man's Want (to be left alone) transformed into something far more insightful and less obvious (to literally be with his wife). The "story" is the order of events that took place for him to reach that realization, and for the audience to empathize. Any sub-plots and supporting characters are there to reinforce and justify the main problem. Just remember that what the old man wants is what gives way to the rest of the story. If he did not want anything specific, the story could not easily exist, at least not in such a tight order of events. An unintentionally loose order of events is a common symptom of or being unsure of what your character wants.

Ah, but you say that this Want = Goal formula is too "Hollywood?" Hold it right there. Even the most rudimentary elements of life are formula. Every minute a person wants something. I want a drink; I want a candy bar; I want to read; I want to listen to music; heck, I want to sleep (it's five o'clock in the morning). Life is a series, a succession, of wants. Good stories are merely more focused, and amplified, than the real thing.

Step 2: Extrapolate

A story is what. A plot is how.

People have this misconception that plot and story are two very different yet still identical things, like maternal twins. They're more like co-workers. Ray Bradbury described it like this: Story is Point A, and Point B, and so on; 'plot' are the footprints in the snow the characters must tread to get there. Don't worry about plot until you have the story. After all, you must know where you are going before you can figure out how to get there.

So if a character wants something, why not just let them have it and be over and done with? Because then there would be little plot and less drama than what a solid story would entail. It would not even be a narrative. It would be a skit. A skit dwells on a single problem and is resolved for the audience's amusement. Sketch comedy comes to mind, as well most of the material on YouTube; though they tend to be mislabeled as short films.

A narrative is focused on the telling of a problem from a reinforced perspective. Whether or not it is solved becomes irrelevant. It is how the problem is solved that peaks our interest. And once you learn to ask why it needs to be solved, why anybody should care, viola! you have a narrative.

One mistake is to view your story as a giant slab of concrete. Break it down into blocks to build a structure. "Ah, here is when we meet and get to know the old man." "Oh and here is when he gets evicted and the story really starts." Each part is an individual snapshot that has a purposeful function. None of it is window dressing, and none should overstay their welcome. As a rule, it is said that one scene of conflict should not carry itself directly into the following scene, because the point has already been made. It would feel redundant and used up. So move on. The plot should contribute to a forward-moving momentum. Toy around with the arrangement of your plot and of the events in your story. It is the DNA, and its varied arrangements will yield fascinating effects on the audience. Is the beginning supposed to be fast or slow? Should the audience acknowledge the ominous desk drawer before it is opened, or not? And so on.

In the case of the episode, the plot is constructed of, first, a flashback montage of Sean's problems; then it slows down and takes a detour to review his problems; then we finally see that they were not, in fact, problems. They were his unforeseen solutions. Finally, we learn of his newly solved problems by a second flashback montage that casts new light on what went before. It is a circular plot, structured to recall the beginning.

And So...

The episode scripts were outlined in an hour. They were also written in an hour and shot the next day, off-and-on (we were at the mercy of rain and weather) in a period of five days. I came up with the admittedly shallow story by first coming up with a problem, arriving at a logical solution, and then backtracking for a Want. In the end, it's what led up to the cheesy ending you have before you.

And because someone asked in the last post, the Gazing-Up-at-the-Stars-On-the-Grass shots were lit entirely by this handy little thing (pictured above), twenty bucks at your nearest Target store. As for the majority of the shots, we used natural sunlight with reflectors and diffusers. The night shots at Drew's apartment were lit entirely by two utility clamp lights (the same ones used in the recent Low Budget Lighting episode).

Well, I think that about does it for Sustaining a Story Idea. It's partly practical and partly conceptual. What can I say? It's an idea meant to foster even more ideas. Perhaps next time we'll do Sustaining a Narrative. And so it goes, it is six o'clock in the morning. I better get on to bed. Or you know what? I might as well grab some coffee.