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StoryWeaving
Writing Tips Newsletter ~ Issue 64
In This Issue...
Special Offers
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Articles
Introduction
to Characters
Love
Interests & The Dramatic Triangle
StoryWeaving
Finding Inspiration
Videos
From Dramatica
Unplugged:
A
Tale is a Statement
A
Story is an Argument
The
Dramatica Chart
From the Dramatica
Software Companion:
The
Story Engine
The
Story Points Window
The
Story Guide
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An
excerpt from the upcoming book,
StoryWeaving
By Melanie Anne Phillips
Creator of StoryWeaver
Co-creator of Dramatica
Forward
Many years ago, when I created Dramatica along with my
partner in crime, Chris Huntley, we were sure that we had
discovered the Holy Grail of story structure - the Rosetta
Stone that accurately translated the language of story, once
and for all.
And we had.
But when it came to the creative process of developing and
writing a story, Dramatica wasn't the Silver Bullet for
Writer's Block that I had hoped. Rather than enabling a
writers, it simply educated them in the mechanics of deep
dramatic sub-structure.
Stories do not live by structure alone. Rather, structure
is nothing more than the carrier wave that carries an author's
passion to the reader or audience. When it is done properly,
it is invisible, tuned out so that the program material can be
appreciated in all its glory. When structure is flawed or
incomplete, however, it adds static to the transmission. And
if it is too far from true, it can become broken, in which
case the reader/audience cannot tune in at all, and the
transmission fails completely.
Structure, then, is undeniably important. And yet, it is
the science of story: a study in logistics. Therefore, when
working in structure, an author must slip into logistics mode
- a surefire killer of the Muse.
No author ever sat down to write the Great American
Structure. And no reader or audience ever rushed out to buy a
book or see a movie in order to experience the penultimate
structure. Authors and audiences meet in the medium of story
because of their passions: the author expressing his or hers,
and the reader or audience hoping to ignite its own.
So, stories are really about structure and passion. The
structure must be there in order to transmit the passion, but
it is neither the star of the show, nor the reason for
writing.
Standing in the shadow of our work on Dramatica, I wondered
how I might take that extra step into the passionate realm.
Was there anything I could offer that might energize and
organize the creative process of writing itself?
For years I grappled with this problem, following many
paths only to find they lead to dead ends. Just when I had
nearly resigned myself to the notion that perhaps only story
mechanics were vulnerable to a systematic approach, a new
concept began to form.
When developing Dramatica, we had looked deeply into the
underlying relationships among story elements. So, when trying
to develop an approach to the passion of stories, I adopted
the same perspective and simply tried to shift It from the
logistics of structure to the organics of the subject matter.
What I hadn't realized was that the mechanics reside in the
story, but the passion resides in the author. I was looking in
the wrong place! If it was possible to create a systematic
approach to passion, I would find it not in the finished work,
but in the creative process itself!
Armed with this new outlook, I re-organized all the
material I had gathered and created along the way, and lo and
behold it fell right into place! Before, all the bits and
pieces were useful in and of themselves, but couldn't be
arranged in any useful order. But now, by focusing on what
goes on in the heart and mind of the author during the story
development process, the very same bits and pieces almost
arranged themselves in an intuitive and easy to follow
sequence.
It was this sequential approach to the creative process
that formed the basis of a new software product called
StoryWeaver. In it, an author could begin without an idea to
save his or her life, and end up with a completely developed
treatment of a story. The result was full of passion, and the
process was both inspiring and enjoyable.
What? Story development enjoyable? Unheard of! Authors were
supposed to suffer for their art - to wrestle with the Muse,
through heartache and headache, struggling for each new idea
and pulling it bodily through the skin of their brain. And
yet, in StoryWeaver, ideas just rolled right out, easily and
pleasurably. And what's more, they weren't just ordinary
over-used ideas, but clever, fresh ones!
StoryWeaver quickly became the best-selling story
development software at my own online store, and even at my
largest competitor's store as well! Each new version added
more details and directions than the previous one. But, I
began to feel an inherent limitation: there just wasn't room
in the medium of creativity software to delve into all the
details and potential of each step in the process. Hence, this
book, which provides the opportunity to fully explore the
StoryWeaving concept from end to end.
Here you will find a step by step approach to story
development that will carry you from concept to completed
story. Each section focuses on a different aspect of the
creative process, from Inspiration to Style. Every step of the
way you'll know what you need to do, and what comes next.
Writer's Block is forever banished by this approach, and
formulas are thrown out with yesterday's stale ideas. You'll
find yourself inspired, energized, motivated, and focused -
all at the same time!
So, grab a cup of coffee, settle in to your favorite chair,
and prepare to embark on a journey that will open creative
horizons to inventive new lands you haven't yet imagined.
And most of all, dare to believe that the writing of
fiction does not have to be painful, frustrating, and
daunting, but can be enjoyable, thrilling, and fulfilling.
More than 10,000 writers use StoryWeaver
Software
At just $29.95, it is affordable for any writer.
Try
Demo
(And
remember, we have a 90 Day risk-free return policy!)
Classic Writing
Tip
From the StoryWeaving Tips Book
(Download
complete book in PDF)
Finding Inspiration
by Melanie Anne Phillips
We all
know that writing is not just about assembling words, but also
about assembling ideas. When
we actually sit down to write, we may have our ideas all
worked out in advance or we may have no idea what we want to
say - just a desire to say something.
Some of us
must labor on projects that we hate, but which have been
assigned to us. Others
may simply be in love with the notion of being a writer, but
haven't a thing to say. Regardless
of why we are writing, we all share the desire to create an
expression that has meaning to our audience.
And just
who is that audience? It
might be only ourselves.
Often I have written material as a means of getting
something off my chest, out of my thoughts, or perhaps just to
get a grip on nebulous feelings or issues by forcing myself to
put them into concrete terms.
Some of
what I write this way has actually turned out to be saleable
as essays on personal growth or insights into meaningful
emotional experiences. But,
most of what I have written for my audience of one remains
with me. Perhaps
it is too personal to share, or just too personal to have
meaning to anyone else.
When I
write for myself, it is seldom a story.
More often than not, it isn't even a tale.
Rather, it is a snippet of my real experiences, or a
flight of fancy, such as the words "red ground
rover." What
does this mean? I
have no idea. But
I do know how it feels to me.
In fact,
popping out a few nonsense but passionate words is a trick I
often use to get a story going.
I'll write something like the above almost randomly.
Then I'll ask myself, "Is the ground red with some
one or something roving over it, or the whole thing a nick
name for a bird dog or a mail carrier in the outback?
Blurting
out something that has no conscious intent behind it can be a
useful trick in overcoming writer's block.
It seems that writer's block most often occurs when we
are intentionally trying to determine what we want to talk
about. But, when
we just put something forth and then try to figure out what it
might mean, a myriad of possibilities suggest themselves.
If you
like, take a moment and try it.
Just jot down a few nonsense words to create a phrase.
Then, consider what they might mean.
Rather than attempting to create, you are now in
analysis mode, the inverse emotional state of trying to
produce something out of nothing.
You'll probably be surprised at how many
interpretations of your phrase readily come to mind.
Imagine,
then, if you were to take one of those interpretations and
build on it. In my example, let me pick the first interpretation - that
"red ground rover" means someone or some thing that
roves over red ground. Well, let's see....
Mars is red, and the Martian Rover at one time examined
the planet. Looks
like I'm starting a science fiction story.
But what
to do next? How
about another nonsense phrase: "minion onion manner
house." What
in the world does that mean?
Let's tie it in to the first phrase.
Suppose there is some underling (minion) who is hunting
for wild onions on Mars (onions being so suited to the
nutrients in the soil that they grow wild in isolated
patches). The
underling works at the Manner House of a wealthy Martian
frontier settler, but is known as Red Ground Rover because of
his free-time onion prospecting activities.
Now, these
phrases weren't planned as examples for this book.
To be fair, I just blurted them out as I suggest you
do. Just as we see pictures in ink blots, animals in the clouds,
and mythic figures in the constellations, we impose our desire
for patterns even on the meaningless. And in so doing, we
often find unexpected inspiration.
Even if
none of our ideas are suited to what we are attempting to
write, we have successfully dislodged our minds from the
vicious cycle of trying to figure out what to say.
And, returning to the specific task of our story, we
are often surprised to find that writer's block has vanished
while we were distracted.
Now you
may have noticed that in the example we just explored, there
are elements of Character, Plot, Theme, and Genre.
The Genre appears to be a variety of Science fiction.
The Theme would seem to revolve around the class system
on a frontier Mars and the implications of interjecting one
natural ecosystem willy nilly into another.
The plot involves an individual out to better his lot
by working outside the system, and whatever difficulties that
may create for him. And,
we have at least two characters already suggested - the Red
Ground Rover explicitly and the Lord or Lady of the Manner
House implicitly (plus whatever servants or staff they may
employ.)
This is a
good illustration of the fact that when we seek to impose
patterns on our world (real or imagined) we actually project
the image of our mind's operating system on what we consider. Characters
form themselves as avatars of our motivations.
Theme intrudes as representations of our values.
Plot outlines the problem solving mechanisms we employ.
And Genre describes the overall experience, from
setting to style.
We cannot
help but project these aspects of ourselves on our work.
The key to inspiration is to develop the ability to see
the patterns that we have subliminally put there.
Almost as important is knowing when to be spontaneous
and when to analyze the results, looking for the beginnings of
a structure.
If you are
a structuralist writer, you'd probably prefer to have the
whole story worked out either on paper (or at least in your
head) before you ever sat down to write.
If you are an inspirationist writer, you probably
wouldn't have a clue what you were going to write when you
began. You'd sit
down, bop around your material and eventually find your story
somewhere in the process, as you wrote.
The final story would be worked out through multiple
drafts. Most
writer’s fall somewhere in between these two extremes.
An idea pops into our head for a clever bit of action,
an interesting line of dialog, or a topic we'd like to
explore. Maybe it
comes from something we are experiencing, have experienced,
see on television, read in the newspaper, or perhaps it just
pops up into our conscious mind unbidden.
Almost
immediately a number of other associated ideas often come to
mind. If there are enough of them, a writer begins to think,
"story." We
then ponder the ideas with purpose, seeing where they will
lead and what else we might dig up and add to the mix.
Eventually
we have gathered enough material to satisfy our own personal
assessment that we actually have the beginnings of a story and
are ready to begin serious work on it.
Then, structuralists set about working out the details
and inspirationists set about finding the details as they go
along.
Yet there
is a problem for both kinds of writers.
What holds all these ideas together is a common subject
matter. But just because they all deal with the same issues does not
mean they all belong in the same store.
It is
common for authors to become frustrated trying to make all the
pieces fit, when in fact it may be impossible for them to all
fit. Perhaps
several different combinations can be worked out that gather
most of the material into the semblance of a structure.
But odds are there will be a significant amount of the
material that gets left out no matter how you try to include
it. Even if each potential structure leaves out a different part
and incorporates material left out in another potential
structure, there is no single structure that includes all.
Like
trying to pick up chicken fat on a plate with the flat side of
a fork, we chase a structure all around our subject matter
until we run ourselves ragged.
Then we stare at the paper or the screen, realizing
we've tried every combination we can think of and nothing
works. It is this
dilemma we call writer's block.
It is much
easier when we realize that stories are not life; they are
about life. In the real world, we group our experiences
together by subject matter, not by the underlying structure
that describes it. For
example, we are more likely to see the issues regarding the
disciplining of our children as being lumped into one category
of consideration whereas getting chewed out by our boss is
another.
In truth,
if our child tells a lie, it is not necessarily the same issue
at all as when he or she doesn't do the assigned homework.
But, not doing homework may have a much closer
structural connection to our getting in trouble with our boss
because we failed to file all of the expense reports he
requested.
We can
avoid writer's block. We
can recognize that the material we create at the beginning of
our efforts is not the story itself, but merely the
inspiration for the story.
Then we can stop chasing our mental tails and pick the
structure that is most acceptable rather than cease writing
until we can find the impossible structure that would pull in
all the material.
Based on
this understanding, it is not hard to see that we come to
Characters, Plot, Theme, and Genre not on a structural basis
but on a subject matter basis as well.
And, there is nothing wrong with that.
As was said in the beginning of this book, we don't
write because of the desire for a perfect structure.
We write because we are passionate about our subject
matter. Yet
sooner or later, the structure needs to be there to support
our passions.
Love
Interests & the Dramatic Triangle
From the Dramatica Tips & Tricks Book
(Download
complete book in PDF)
by Melanie Anne Phillips
A lot of books about writing describe the importance of a
“Love Interest.” Other books see a Love Interest as
unnecessary and cliché. What does Dramatica Say? As with most
dramatic concepts, Dramatica pulls away the storytelling to
take a clear look at the underlying structure.
A Love Interest has both storytelling and structural
components. The storytelling side is what most people think of
– A Love Interest is the character with whom the “hero”
or “heroine” is in love.
Simple! But what does that tell us about the kind of person
the Love Interest is, or even what kind of relationship the
two have between them? Not a whole lot!
For example, the Love Interest might be the leader of the
enemy camp, in which case he or she is the Antagonist! Or, the
Love Interest might be the supportive, stay-in-the-background
type, in which case he or she is the Sidekick. In both cases,
the hero is in love with this person, but structurally each
positions the relationship on different sides of the effort to
achieve the story goal.
Also, the Love Interest might be a person of noble heart, a
mis-guided do-gooder, or even a crook! And, any of these types
of people might fit into either of the two example scenarios
we’ve just outlined.
As we can see, the structural and storytelling elements
have little to do with one another, other than the fact that
there will be some of each. So, what can Dramatica do to help
provide some guidelines for developing a Love Interest that
works?
Lets start with some basics. Dramatica sees there being two
types of characters in every story (and a prize in every
box!). The first type contains the Objective Characters such
as the Protagonist, Antagonist, Sidekick, or Guardian, who are
defined by their dramatic functions.
The Protagonist strives to achieve the goal, the Antagonist
tries to prevent that, for example. In and of itself, this
aspect of character outlines how the participants line up in
regard to the logistic issues of the story. But there is a
second side of the dynamics of every story that center on the
second type of characters – the Subjective Characters.
There are two Subjective Characters, and unlike their
Objective relatives who represent functions, the Subjective
Characters represent points of view. These characters are the
Main Character and the Obstacle Character. The Main Character
represents the audience position in the story. The Obstacle
Character represents the point of view, ideology, or belief
system opposite that of the Main Character.
The Objective Characters represent the “headline” in
the story and the Subjective Characters represent the “heartline.”
Often, the character who is the Protagonist is also given the
Main Character job as well. This creates the archetypal “hero”
who drives the story forward, but who also represents the
audience position in the story. Of course, the Main Character
(audience position) might be with ANY of the Objective
Characters, not just the Protagonist.
For example, in most of the James Bond films, Bond is
actually the Antagonist and Main Character because although he
represents the audience position, he is also called into play
AFTER the real Protagonist (the villain) has made his first
move to achieve a goal (of world conquest.) It is Bond’s
functional role as Antagonist to try and stop it!
Not quite as often, the Antagonist is given the extra job
of also being the Obstacle Character. In such a case, not only
does the Antagonist try to stop the Protagonist, but he (or
she) also tries to change the belief system of the Main
Character, whether the Main Character is the Protagonist or
another of the Objective Characters by function.
The worst thing you can do is to make the Protagonist the
Main Character and the Antagonist the Obstacle Character. Why?
Because then the two “players” in the story are not only
diametrically opposed in function regarding the story goal,
but are also diametrically opposed in belief system. As a
result, it is difficult for the audience to figure out which
of the two throughlines them is being developed by any given
event between them.
What’s worse, as an author it is easy to get caught up in
the momentum of the drama between them so that one skips steps
in the development of one throughline because the other “carries”
it. Well it may carry the vigor, but it doesn’t hold water.
Both throughlines must each be fully developed or you end up
with a melodrama or worse, plot holes you could drive a truck
through.
The solution is either to assign the Main Character and
Protagonist functions to one character and split the
Antagonist/Obstacle Character functions into two separate
characters, or vice versa. And this brings us to the Dramatic
Triangle and how it is used to create a sound Love Interest
relationship.
First, let’s assume we assign the Main Character and
Protagonist jobs to the same player to create an archetypal
hero. Now, this hero (we’ll call him Joe) is a race car
driver who is vying with the Antagonist for the title of best
overall driver of the year. Each race is a new contest between
them with their balance so close that it all comes down to the
last race of the season.
But there is something troubling Joe’s heart – his
relationship with Sally. Sally is very supportive of Joe (a
Sidekick, in fact) but Joe feels that if he really loves
Sally, he should quit racing to avoid the potential of an
accident that would leave him dead or crippled and ruin her
life. Why does he feel like this? Because his own dad was a
racer, whose untimely death on the track left his mother
devastated, and ultimately committed to an asylum. (Hey, I
never said this example would be creative!)
In any event, Sally doesn’t feel that way at all. She
would rather see Joe go out in a blaze of glory having done
his best than to spend her life with a limp shell. She tries
to tell him, but he just won’t be convinced. He starts to
play it safer and safer as his worries grow (because the
closer he gets to the final race, the more it resembles the
chain of events that happened to his dad.) Finally, he has
lost his edge and his lead and it all comes down to that final
event.
Now, realizing that she would never be able to live with
Joe if she felt that he lost the title because of her, Sally
tells him at the final pit stop that if he doesn’t win the
race, she is leaving him. Joe must now decide whether he
should stick with his approach born from fear of hurting
another, or let Sally be her own judge of what is right for
her and put the pedal to the metal.
What does he do? Up to you the author. He wins the race and
Sally’s heart. He hasn’t got the courage and loses both
race and girl. He loses the race, but Sally realizes how deep
his love must be and decides to stay with him. He wins the
race, but there is such a dangerous near-fatal crash that
Sally realizes Joe was right and leaves him anyway because she
discovers she really can’t take it after all.
Or, you could have Sally want him to quit and Joe refuse,
resulting in four other endings with a more cliché flavor.
Why this long example, to show how the conflict of the
logistics of the plot occur between Joe and the Antagonist,
but the emotions of the personal relationship occur between
Joe and the Sidekick, Sally.
If you charted it out, there are two throughlines. Both
hinge on Joe, and then they split farther and farther apart to
connect to the Antagonist on one and to the Obstacle
Character, Sally on the other. In this way, the events that
happen in the growth of each relationship are much easier to
see for the audience and much easier to complete for the
author, yet they both converge on the “hero” to give him
the greatest possible dramatic strength.
Now, you could hinge them both on the Antagonist, as in a
James Bond film, and slip the Protagonist from the Obstacle
Character. Look at “Tomorrow Never Dies.” The Protagonist
is the mad newspaper mogul. The Obstacle Character is the
beautiful Chinese agent (whose function is muddled
dramatically by Bond’s relationship with the mogul’s
wife). Bond is Antagonist AND Main Character, but the dramatic
triangle is still functional.
Silence of the Lambs: Starling is the Main
Character/Antagonist, Jamie Gumm (Buffalo Bill) is the
Protagonist (after all, she didn’t go looking for a crime
and THEN he committed one!) Hannibal is the Obstacle Character
and perhaps a Love Interest of a sort (as described by the
director on the Criterion Edition DVD.)
For a different approach, consider Witness: John Book is
the Obstacle Character/Antagonist, the crooked Chief of Police
is the Protagonist. Rachel, the Amish Girl is the Love
Interest and Main Character. Or is John Book (Harrison Ford)
the Love Interest to Rachel? It’s hard to tell because John
is such an active Objective Character that he carries more
momentum than Rachel, even though we are positioned in her
shoes. The important point is that even if the Protagonist is
made to be the Obstacle Character and the Antagonist and Main
Character are split into two different people, the dramatic
triangle still exists!
The dramatic triangle is one of the best structural ways to
focus attention on one character even while splitting the
headline and heartline to make a more pleasing and complete
story. It can be used for “buddy” pictures and even used
when the heartline isn’t between lovers or even likers but
between two people who would like to see each other’s
emotions destroyed by slyly manipulating the other to change
his or her beliefs.
hink of all those “cheat the devil” stories in which
the Main Character/Protagonist is after something and the
devil tries to convince the Main Character to sell his soul to
get it. Yep, the dramatic triangle at work again!
So, in considering whether or not to have a Love Interest
in your story, simply consider whether that would make your
storytelling cliché or not. Either way, consider the dramatic
triangle as a means of putting heart into an otherwise
logistically mechanical plot.
Dramatica:
A New Theory Of Story
By Melanie Anne Phillips and Chris Huntley
Chapter 3 Introduction to Characters
Get
the complete 400 page book for just $19.95
Hero Is a Four Letter Word
It is easy to think of the principal character in a story
as "the hero." Many beginning writers tend to base
their stories on the adventures or experiences of a hero. As
writers become more mature in their craft, they may come to
think of their central character as a "protagonist,"
or perhaps a "main character." And yet, through all
of this, no consistent definitions of any of these terms have
ever been agreed upon. Before we proceed then, it seems
prudent to establish what Dramatica means by each of these
concepts.
A Main Character is the player through whom the audience
experiences the story first hand. A Protagonist is the prime
mover of the plot. A Hero is a combination of both Main
Character and Protagonist.
In other words, a hero is a blended character who does two
jobs: move the plot forward and serve as a surrogate for the
audience. When we consider all the characters other than a
Protagonist who might serve as the audience's position in a
story, suddenly the concept of a hero becomes severely
limited. It is not wrong, just limited. The value of
separating the Main Character and Protagonist into two
different characters can be seen in the motion picture, To
Kill a Mockingbird. Here, the character, Atticus, (played by
Gregory Peck) is clearly the Protagonist, yet the story is
told through the experiences of Scout, his young daughter.
Later on, we will explore many other ways in which the Main
Character can be employed in much less archetypal terms than
as a hero. For now, the key point is that Dramatica identifies
two different kinds of characters: those who represent an
audience point of view, and those who fulfill a dramatic
function.
Objective and Subjective Characters
The reason there are two kinds of characters goes back to
the concept of the Story Mind. We have two principal views of
that mind: the Objective view from the outside looking in, and
the Subjective view from the inside looking out. In terms of
the Story Mind, the Objective view is like looking at another
person, watching his thought processes at work. For an
audience experiencing a story, the Objective view is like
watching a football game from the stands. All the characters
are most easily identified by their functions on the field.
The Subjective view is as if the Story Mind were our own.
From this perspective, only two characters are visible: Main
and Obstacle. The Main and Obstacle Characters represent the
inner conflict of the Story Mind. In fact, we might say a
story is of two minds. In real life, we often play our own
devil's advocate, entertaining an alternative view as a means
of arriving at the best decision. Similarly, the Story Mind's
alternative views are made tangible through the Main and
Obstacle Characters. To the audience of a story, the Main
Character experience is as if the audience were actually one
of the players on the field. The Obstacle Character is the
player who blocks the way.
To summarize then, characters come in two varieties:
Objective and Subjective. Objective Characters represent
dramatic functions; Subjective Characters represent points of
view. When the Main Character point of view is attached to the
Protagonist function, the resulting character is commonly
thought of as a hero.
Looking Forward In the next chapter we will begin an
in-depth exploration of Objective Characters. Here we will
meet the Protagonist, Antagonist, and several other
archetypes. Next we will dissect each archetype to see what
essential dramatic elements it contains. Finally, we will
examine how those same elements can be combined in different,
non-archetypal patterns to create more realistic and versatile
complex characters.
Then we will turn our attention to the Subjective
Characters: Main and Obstacle. We will examine how the
audience point of view is shifted through the Main Character's
growth. We will also explore the forces that drive these two
characters and forge the belief systems they possess.

Presented
in Streaming Video!
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classes
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The following
video clips are excerpted from
"Dramatica
Unplugged - a 20 Hour Writing Course"
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the entire 20 Hours of Video on CD ROM for $19.95
Part 4 of 150 - The
Dramatica Chart (09:06)
Dramatica is a new
theory of story structure and also a software tool for
writers. It includes a Periodic Table of Story Elements that
allows writers to design the chemistry of their stories.
This clip was
excerpted from
"Dramatica
Unplugged - a 20 Hour Writing Course"
Get
the entire 20 Hours of Video on CD ROM for $19.95
Part 3 of 150 - A
Story Is An Argument
(06:22)
Unlike tales which
are simple statements that a particular course is either good
or bad, a story is an argument that a given path is either the
best or worst.
The following
video clips are excerpted from
"Dramatica
Unplugged - a 20 Hour Writing Course"
Get
the entire 20 Hours of Video on CD ROM for $19.95
Part 2 of 150 - A
Tale Is A Statement
(06:04)
A tale is a
simpler form of communication than a story. The message of a
tale is that a particular course of action is either good or
bad, depending on the outcome.
The following
video clips are excerpted from
"Dramatica
Unplugged - a 20 Hour Writing Course"
Get
the entire 20 Hours of Video on CD ROM for $19.95
The following
video clips are excerpted from
"Dramatica
Software Companion"
Get
the Dramatica Software Companion on CD ROM - $19.95
Part 4 of 110 - The
Story Guide (04:31)
The Story Guide
provides many different question paths through which to
approach your story. You can focus on structure,
content, or choose to develop specific areas like character,
plot, or theme.
This video
clip was excerpted from
"Dramatica
Software Companion"
Get
the Dramatica Software Companion on CD ROM - $19.95
Part 3 of 110 - The
Story Points Window (03:50)
The Story Points
window is like a shopping list of scores of interrelated story
elements. You can use them interactively to build your
structure or use them as inspiration tools to guide you in
development of your story.
This video
clip was excerpted from
"Dramatica
Software Companion"
Get
the Dramatica Software Companion on CD ROM - $19.95
Part 2 of 110 - The
Story Engine (03:42)
Dramatica's
patented Story Engine is what makes it unique. It
cross-references the dramatic impact of your answers to
questions about your story to determine where your structure
may be incomplete or inconsistent. Then, it makes
suggestions about how to improve your structure.
This video
clip was excerpted from
"Dramatica
Software Companion"
Get
the Dramatica Software Companion on CD ROM - $19.95
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