Damn Fine Story

1. Storytelling is about interrupting the status quo.

Storytelling is an act of interrupting the status quo.

Change is the catalyst. A story fundamentally begins when something disrupts the existing conditions of the storyworld or a character's life. If nothing changes, there is no story to tell. This interruption can be personal, like a divorce, or grand, like a galactic war.

Breaking the line. Imagine narrative as a line; a story starts when that line bends, twists, or breaks. Bruce Wayne's life is a straight line until his parents are killed, creating the fissure from which Batman emerges. Katniss's dystopian life has a status quo until her sister is chosen for the Hunger Games, forcing Katniss to volunteer and shatter her own normal.

Turbulence keeps us engaged. Just as a plane flight might hit turbulence, a story often disrupts its own comfortable straight line repeatedly. These interruptions aren't just for the protagonist; they can affect antagonists and the entire storyworld, providing the essential reason for the narrative's existence.

2. Character is everything; stories are made of people.

Character is everything.

The heart of the story. While a story can technically exist without characters, it would be lifeless, like a body without a heart or brain. Characters provide purpose, thought, and soul, acting as the primary reason we engage with narratives. We connect with stories because we connect with the people (or personified entities) within them.

Seeking a mirror. Ultimately, our engagement with characters is selfish; we look for reflections of ourselves, our experiences, and our collective human story. Empathy is key, allowing us to step into their shoes and relate their struggles to our own, making their journey our journey.

Characters drive engagement. Whether human, animal, or even an object given agency, characters are the legs of the table, providing elevation and purpose. They are not secondary to the story; they are the reason for it, acting as the vehicle through which we experience the narrative world.

3. Characters are defined by their problems and solutions.

The character is the problem. And the solution is the story.

Problems make characters interesting. The most efficient way to understand a character and their place in the narrative is to identify their core problem. This problem isn't just a plot point; it defines who they are in the context of the story and provides the initial breach of their status quo.

Motivation framed as conflict. Instead of passive motivations (e.g., "Fred wants to be rich"), framing them as problems ("Fred's problem is he's poor and wants to be rich") makes them active and central. The character's intended solution to this problem becomes their quest, forming the basic trajectory of the story.

The quest is the narrative. The journey a character takes from identifying their problem to pursuing its solution is the story. This inherent pursuit automatically invokes conflict, creating a personal stake that resonates with the audience and drives the narrative forward organically from the character outward.

4. Plot is born from character actions and complications.

The character creates the plot.

Plot is not external. Instead of viewing plot as a pre-existing framework into which characters are plugged, see it as something born directly from the characters themselves. Characters are the architects of the story structure, building it as they act, talk, and change.

Complications build the maze. The simple journey from problem to solution is complicated by obstacles placed between the character and their goal. These complications can be external (Hans Gruber attacking Nakatomi Plaza) or internal (a character's limitations or flaws), adding bends, roundabouts, and dead ends to the character's quest.

Responses drive the narrative. Every complication demands a response from the character, and these responses, in turn, create further complications or move the story forward. This push-and-pull, where characters actively navigate and react to the maze, is what generates the events of the plot.

5. Story structure is flexible architecture, not rigid rules.

Writing is a road we build, but storytelling is a river—it’s bendy and strange and hard to predict.

Beyond Freytag's Pyramid. While models like Freytag's Pyramid offer a basic rise-climax-fall shape, stories rarely conform to a single, simple structure. Narrative is more like a jagged mountain range, a roller coaster, or a house with many rooms and hidden spaces.

Different formats, shared bones. Whether a novel, film, comic, or game, each format presents story uniquely but shares fundamental components. Like different architectural styles (mansion, houseboat, rancher), they serve similar needs (bedrooms, kitchens, windows, doors), even if the shapes vary wildly.

Arrangement is key. Understanding narrative structure is less about adhering to strict rules and more about how you arrange the building blocks—beats, scenes, sequences, acts—to create rhythm, tension, and meaning. The goal is to find the common corners and shared windows that make a story work, regardless of its specific form.

6. Arrangement of elements creates meaning and tension.

The arrangement matters.

Order shapes perception. How you sequence events and reveal information profoundly impacts the audience's experience. Knowing the ending but telling the story as if you don't builds suspense; revealing information too early can gut the narrative's emotional payoff.

Questions drive engagement. Arrangement should prioritize generating questions in the audience's mind rather than offering quick answers. Mystery is a powerful lure, pulling readers forward through the tale like a hook.

Controlling the flow. The arrangement dictates the story's pace and rhythm. Faster, tighter scenes accelerate the narrative, while slower, more ponderous moments allow for reflection and build anticipation for what's to come.

7. Tension comes from rhythm, questions, and uncertainty.

Questions are the food that feeds the reader.

Hunger for answers. The audience is driven by a desire to know what happens next, why something is occurring, and what it all means. Questions, whether explicit or implicit in conflict, create this hunger and pull the reader through the narrative.

Fire and oxygen. Storytelling rhythm is a push and pull between moments of tension ("fire") and moments of respite or reflection ("oxygen"). Constant tension leads to numbness, while too much calm becomes boring. The strategic staggering of these moments builds suspense and keeps the audience engaged.

Trust and unpredictability. Tension also exists in the relationship between the storyteller and the audience. By sometimes fulfilling expectations and other times subverting them, the storyteller creates a dynamic where the audience is never entirely sure what will happen, fostering anticipation and apprehension.

8. Dialogue and interaction are forms of action and power exchange.

Writing sex is like writing a fight scene.

Talk is action. Dialogue is not merely characters speaking; it is a vital form of action and interaction. Words can manipulate, deceive, reveal, and drive the narrative forward as effectively as any physical act.

Purposeful exchange. Every interaction between characters, whether verbal or physical (fighting, flirting, etc.), is driven by purpose. Characters want something, and their interactions are expressions of them trying to get it, creating a constant push-and-pull dynamic.

Layers of meaning. Interactions operate on two levels: the visible text (what is said or done) and the hidden subtext (what is meant, felt, or left unsaid). The tension often lies in the gap between these layers, revealing character, building mystery, and driving conflict.

9. Theme is the story's hidden argument, revealed through characters.

Every story is an argument.

Stories have something to say. Beyond plot and character, a story often carries an underlying argument or point of view. This theme is not a simple topic but a statement or assertion the narrative attempts to prove through the actions and experiences of its characters.

Hidden behind the walls. Theme should rarely be overtly stated or preached. It lurks beneath the surface, a subtle force that provides context for character actions and binds the narrative elements together. Characters embody, challenge, or are affected by the theme, even if they are unaware of it.

A touchstone for the storyteller. While not strictly necessary, considering theme can provide focus and depth. It offers a constant reference point, allowing the storyteller to ask how each scene and character interaction reflects or grapples with the story's core argument.

10. Write who you are, not just what you know.

Write who you are.

Beyond mere information. The old adage "write what you know" is less useful than focusing on "write who you are." While knowledge can be acquired, your unique identity—your thoughts, feelings, experiences, fears, and perspectives—is the truly original element you bring to any story.

Injecting your essence. Your stories are products of your internal landscape, filled with emotional and intellectual material, whether intentional or not. This personal essence is what makes your version of a common story unique and resonates with readers seeking a human connection.

Heart on the page. The most powerful stories often come from cracking open your own chest and embedding your heart—your core identity and vulnerability—into the narrative. This connection between the teller and the told, often conveyed through theme and metaphor, is what allows a story to make the audience feel and think, not just entertain.

Last updated: May 19, 2025