Here are some clues for all you Dramatica theory hounds…
Strong, Weak, Electromagnetic, Gravity
Solid, Liquid, Gas, Plasma
Mass, Energy, Space, Time
Universe, Physics, Mind, Psychology
Knowledge, Thought, Ability, Desire
Noun, Verb, Adjective, Adverb
The same relationships among them, repeated in different subject matter context.
Reflective not of the items but of the way the mind organizes the items.
Therefore reflective of the patterns not of the observed, but of the observer.
This group of interrelationships is the basis of the quad.
It is described by a series of equations.
One of the equations is the psychological equivalent of E=MC2
Each quad is a dramatic circuit in fiction or a psychological circuit in the real world
The items in a quad can be seen as Potential, Resistance, Current, and Power (dynamically).
The items in a quad can be seen as 1,2,3,4 (sequentially).
The items in a quad are not objects but processes.
The Dramatica chart is a periodic table of psychological processes, treated as objects, as in object-oriented programming.
Each quad has a pair that is seen as made up of discrete items.
Each quad has a pair that is seen as two items blended into one.
There are three kinds of pair relationships in each quad – Dynamic (diagonal), Companion (horizontal), Dependent (Vertical).
The three kinds of pairs correlate to sine, cosine, tangent.
Each kind of pair has two examples – one positive, one negative
There is a fourth relationship in a quad – whether the items are seen as four individual items or as a single family of similar items, such as “This IS the United States” or “These ARE the United States”
This fourth relationship goes beyond the trigonometry functions with a fourth function that moves imaginary numbers into the real number plane since time is part of the equation.
The quad is the core and key to how the mind works and can be used to move beyond artificial intelligence to create artificial self-awareness.
Way back in the early 1990s, my writing partner, Chris Huntley, and I published a book on narrative structure entitled, Dramatica: A New Theory of Story.
It begins:
“Part of what makes a story great is its underlying dramatic structure and part is the manner in which that structure is related to an audience, often called “storytelling”. Therefore, this book is divided into two principal sections: The Elements of Structure and The Art of Storytelling.”
When I wrote that paragraph, I thought it was pretty self explanatory. But over the years I’ve been surprised by how many people, though they agree with the the way that sounds, don’t actually understand the real difference between those two facets of a story.
Why is it important to differentiate the two? Because structure can only be solidly built if you see it for what it really is – the framework that holds up the story. And storytelling can only be effective is it is liberated from structural restrictions.
Part of the problem is that people lump all aspects of a story other than the words they use to tell it into a single glop they think of as the structure. This means they see a character’s name, its job, age, gender and so on as structure. They see the setting, time frame and genre as structure. They see all the events that happen and all the moralizing as part of the structure. Yet none of these are structural elements at all. They are, in fact, part of the storytelling.
In this article, I’d like to spend a little time illustrating the nature of and differences between story structure and storytelling, and provide some techniques for using this new clear view of both to enhance the soundness of your story and your creative experience as as a writer.
What we’re going to do is break a completed story into four parts, rather than just structure and storytelling. Those other two parts will provide some parallax – a baseline you want mentally walk along to get a better angle on separating story structure and storytelling.
To do this, we’ll use an analogy.
Think of a story as a body. There’s the skeleton, the soft tissue, the clothes and lastly the haircut, jewelry, make-up, facial hair, cologne and so on – four different parts of what we see as a complete person.
The skeleton is the structure, the soft tissue is the subject matter, the clothes are the exposition and the finishing touches are the storytelling.
Structure (a story’s skeleton) is the fixed framework that defines the basic shape and function of the thing. For example one story might have a goal of Obtaining a particular item. Another story might have a goal of Becoming a different kind of person. Obtaining a thing is completely different from Becoming a new person, so those two structures would be completely different. But a story about Obtaining stolen times or Obtaining someone’s love are structurally the same, because they are both about possession.
Now on to the soft tissue of story, the subject matter. Using the above example, in the Obtaining story the goal might be to obtain a treasure, a diploma, someone’s respect or the answer to a riddle. Clearly each of these stories would feel completely different, even though they are all Obtaining stories because the subject matter is different, just as a person of one weight, musculature and fitness is going to seem completely different than someone who varies in those areas, even through they have the exact same skeletal structure. So, they are structurally the same, but differ in what’s attached to that structure – the subject matter.
In another example of how different stories can strike a reader or audience as being different, even though the structure is the same, a goal of “Becoming” might be becoming more honest, becoming more self-sufficient, becoming more passionate or becoming more considerate. And so, each of these would seem like a different story, even though, structurally, they are all about Becoming something one currently is not. In short, a single structure can manifest itself in many different ways.
So now that we have a pretty good grip on a very fundamental understanding of the first two parts of a story, the structure and the subject matter, let us consider the clothing, which is the equivalent of Exposition in a story – what of that structure and subject matter is immediately visible, and what is held back.
In stories, as in clothing, exposition is the way the thing is revealed. How much do you show up front? How long does it take to see more? What are you shown, and in what order? And when do you get to see it all?
Authors do well to remember that while they know their entire story from beginning to end and everything in between, their audience or readers don’t. So the job of exposition is two-fold. One, to make sure you find a place in the unfolding of your story to convey everything you want the audience/readers to know. Two, to consider how best to unveil the details of your story like a striptease artist, enticing your audience/readers to build in them the greatest possible interest. That is the essence of the third of our four perspectives.
Finally, we come to our fourth and final angle on our story – the storytelling style – the fancy dancy primps and preens that give the whole package pizazz, just as a person has a certain kind of haircut or hairstyle, adopts a rhythm to the way they walk and move, and develops their own voice – the way the turn a phrase.
In terms of stories, consider that though you may have completed the first three stages in developing your story (built a structure, developed the subject matter, and worked out the exposition and reveals, you haven’t actually written a word! So this last stage, storytelling style, is (surprisingly enough) where you actually tell your story!
The structure determines what it is, the subject matter determines what it means, the exposition determines how it shows itself, and storytelling determines how it feels. In other words, in four steps you’ve moved clear across from a fully logistic approach to the elements of structure to a purely passionate experience in the art of storytelling.
Now earlier I promised to describe why all this is useful to a writer, because a lot of insights into story, while intriguing, don’t necessarily immediately suggest how you might apply them to your advantage in story development.
In terms of practical application, we shouldn’t think about the four stages when we are creating – to do so would move us into an analytical frame of mind and smother our Muse. But once we have run short of inspiration for a bit, then we would do well to look at our story more objectively – to examine it logically to make sure we haven’t missed a beat, gone off track, failed to communicate or lost the passion.
A completed section of your story may mask problems in one of the four aspects by something really cool in another aspect. This creates a hidden problem in one area behind the flash in another. Alas, in the end, while it might “wow,” it won’t sustain.
Conversely, a story might be so balanced among all four perspectives that it becomes bland to the point of being impossible to swallow, yet seems quite complete to an author. So by separating the four stages, you can see where your storytelling might not have enough oomph and needs to jiggle its booty a bit more to entice.
By putting structural considerations out of your mind while you creatively write, it frees your Muse to pursue any creative path that appeals to her. Then, by putting creativity out of your mind while you analyze, you can see clearly where the problems are and how to go about fixing them.
In the end, if you are aware of elements of structure and practice the art of storytelling, you’ll write with maximum productivity and have a more pleasant creative experience as well.
Over the course of the story, your reader/audience has come to know your characters and to feel for them. The story doesn’t end when your characters and their relationships reach a climax. Rather, the reader/audience will want to know the aftermath – how it turned out for each character and each relationship. In addition, the audience needs a little time to say goodbye – to let the character walk off into the sunset or to mourn for them before the story ends.
This is in effect the conclusion, the wrap-up. After everything has happened to your characters, after the final showdown with their respective demons, what are they like? How have they changed? If a character began the story as a skeptic, does it now have faith? If they began the story full of hatred for a mother that abandoned them, have they now made revelations to the effect that she was forced to do this, and now they no longer hate? This is what you have to tell the audience, how their journeys changed them, have the resolved their problems, or not?
And in the end, this constitutes a large part of your story’s message. It is not enough to know if a story ends in success or failure, but also if the characters are better off emotionally or plagued with even greater demons, regardless of whether or not the goal was achieved.
You can show what happens to your characters directly, through a conversation by others about them, or even in a post-script on each that appears after the story is over or in the ending credits of a movie.
How you do this is limited only by your creative inspiration, but make sure you review each character and each relationship and provide at least a minimal dismissal for each.
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For complete story development help, consider trying my StoryWeaver Step By Step Story Development Software risk-free for 90 days.
And for even more personalized help, contact me about my story consultation services.
When your reader/audience first meets your characters in a story, it has the same effects as when you are introduced to someone in real life. First impressions have a tremendous impact that you can use either to establish or mislead your reader/audience as to the true nature of each character.
You might tell your reader/audience all there is to know about a particular character right up front. But for another character, you may drop little bits of information over the whole course of the story. And, of course, you want to note how a character’s outlook and feelings change as the story unfolds.
Then there is the question of who shows up first? Joe, Tom, Sally, or the Monster? Characters introduced early on become more important to the reader/audience at a personal level, even though their roles may not be as significant in the story at large.
To elevate an interesting character who is not a major player, you may wish to introduce and follow him or until he or she latches up with a major character down the line. Or, you might reveal several characters together in a group activity to give them equal footing at that point in the story.
Who is your Main Character? Do you want to involve your audience immediately by bringing that character in first, or would you rather have them look more objectively at the characters and plot, introducing the Main Character later?
You know all about your characters while your audience knows nothing. It’s okay to reveal more about your characters later in the story, but you must lay the groundwork and reveal personality so that your audience can sympathize with them and feel for them as the story progresses. For complex characters, it may take the entire story before all their subtleties are revealed.
Sometimes an author may want to have a character with a dark side, or a hidden side that will be revealed only later in the story. Try to introduce such a character’s facade as a complete persona, making it that much more shocking when you finally reveal their other face.
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For complete story development help, consider trying my StoryWeaver Step By Step Story Development Software risk-free for 90 days.
And for even more personalized help, contact me about my story consultation services.
Here’s a good general template for beginning writers that outlines some of the key events and activities that are best addressed in each of your three acts.
ACT ONE
Act one is about the Set Up. It establishes the way things are when the problem begins. It introduces the problem, establishes the goal and its requirements, as well as the consequences if the goal is not achieved.
Many stories include a journey or quest that leads to the goal. In such stories, the first act concerns discovery of the need for and nature of the quest, the acceptance of the quest, and preparations to embark. Act one then concludes with the final preparations and a restatement of the necessity of the quest by reminding the reader/audience of the potential consequences.
In all stories, by the end of act one, the reader/audience must understand what the story is about, what is to be achieved, and how the effort toward that end is expected to proceed.
Keep in mind that for storytelling purposes you may intend to fool your audience into believing the goal is one thing when it will later turn out to be another.
Also, the plot of many stories includes a “teaser” at the very beginning of the act. The teaser is an emotional “hook” meant to snare reader interest and draw them into the book or movie. Almost every television episode begins with a teaser to keep the audience from changing the channel.
Teasers may or may not have anything to do with the story at large. Sometimes they are simply exciting emotional or action-oriented extravaganzas which are nothing more than entertainment, and add nothing to the structure of the real story about to begin.
In any event, by the end of the first act, your reader/audience must feel it understands what the story is about and the direction it appears to be taking.
ACT TWO
This is the Act of Development. The second act develops plot points that you set up in your first act, adding richness and detail to your story.
If there’s a journey in your story, act two is about the beginning and progress of that quest. As progress is made, the obstacles to progress become more substantial. Every step taken towards that goal increases in difficulty.
Somewhere in Act Two there is a major plot twist, either physically or due to information uncovered, that throws the whole story into left field. In some stories this twist happens in the middle of the act. The second half of the act is spent trying to recover from the set back and begin anew. In other stories, this twist occurs at the end of the second act, driving the quest in a whole new direction with the beginning of act three.
ACT THREE
This is the Act of the Climax. The whole of the third act is leading up to that point, creating tension and suspense. This is what your entire story has been leading up to. You want your third act to be more fast-paced than the rest of your story, and a lot more suspenseful.
The most compelling stories build the forces for and against the goal so that each becomes stronger and stronger. At the point of climax each is so powerful that something has to give – the tension is just too great. And yet, since they are balanced, the outcome is still uncertain.
The progression of the third act of plot is often heavily influenced by genre. For example, a compelling mystery might be designed to spread suspicion even wider than before, rather than narrowing in on just a few characters. Therefore, the sense of building tension may spring from increasing confusion, rather than understanding.
In all cases, act three must draw all dynamic forces to a head and eventually tie up all loose ends.
SUMMING UP
Certainly there are a lot of other structural and storytelling tasks readers or audience are used to encountering in each act, such as character introductions and growth, exploration of your theme, and employment of dramatic elements specific to your genre.
Still, using this template as a foundational guide can help provide a framework for additional development and insure that the spine of your dramatics is sound.
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For complete story development help, consider trying my StoryWeaver Step By Step Story Development Software risk-free for 90 days.
And for even more personalized help, contact me about my story consultation services.
We’re getting a special price on a limited number of copies of Dramatica Pro and Dramatica Story Expert on Monday and are giving you a chance to cash in now.
If you are writing with only Heroes and Villains, you are limiting yourself. A Hero is a Main Character who is also a Protagonist. A Villain is an Obstacle Character who is also an Antagonist.
What’s the difference between a Main Character and a Protagonist? The Main Character represents the audience position in the story: It is the character the audience most cares about, most empathizes with. The Protagonist is the character who drives the plot forward.
These two functions don’t have to be placed in the same character as they are in a Hero. In real life, we are not always running the show. Similarly in stories, the Main Character doesn’t have to always be the guy leading the charge. Separating the two functions opens up a wide variety of new audience experiences and creates characters that are less archetypal and formulaic.
Similarly, when we split a Villain into an Obstacle Character and an Antagonist, we open up opportunities, some of which bear directly on the nature and function of a Love Interest and the structure of a “Buddy Picture.”
First, what is the difference between the Obstacle Character and the Antagonist? The Obstacle Character represents a point of view opposite that of the Main Character. Every Main Character will be driven by some central belief system around which the story’s philosophic argument revolves. This belief system might be an attitude, a way of doing things, or something as extensive as a specific “world view.” The Obstacle Character represents the view that is diametrically opposed.
Over the course of the story, the Obstacle Character’s impact will bring the Main Character to a point of decision at which he or she must choose to stick with the old “tried and true” philosophy/approach or to adopt the alternative put forth by the Obstacle Character. In many stories, this moment results in a “Leap of Faith” in which the Main Character is forced to make a conscious decision to go with one view or the other at the critical moment. In other stories, the Main Character may gradually warm to the Obstacle Character’s view, but the audience is not sure if that warmth will hold when the chips are down. Only at the critical moment will the story demonstrate on which side of the fence the Main Character drops, not by conscious choice but by responding from the heart.
When a Hero battles a Villain, both the functional relationship of the Protagonist/Antagonist battle for supremacy in the plot and the personal relationship of the Main Character/Obstacle Character occur between the same two characters at the same time. In a sense, working with Heroes and Villains flattens these two relationships into a single relationship. This often confuses an audience, as they are often not sure which of the two relationships is being described by a particular moment between the two characters.
What’s more, it is easy for an author to leave holes in each kind of relationship because if something happens in one of the two, its dramatic momentum can carry the attention past a gap in the other. In fact, it is the foundation of a Melodrama for the audience to accept as a style that gaps in both relationships are acceptable, as long as the combined momentum of them both carries the attention on to the next point in either.
To avoid audience confusion and prevent your drama from disintegrating into a Melodrama, you may wish to split up either the Hero, the Villain, or both. When both are split, it allows for a complete separation of the functional relationship and the personal relationship, allowing for each to be fully developed by the author and experienced by the audience.
When only one character is split, the two relationships converge on the remaining character. So, we might have a story with a Hero (Main Character/Protagonist) who has a functional relationship with the Antagonist and a personal relationship with the Obstacle Character. This forms a “V” shaped pattern which is referred to as a Dramatic Triangle.
Learn how to use the Dramatic Triangle for your story in my follow-up article.
Dramatica is a new theory describing how stories work. It is also the name of a line of software products that help authors use the theory to design flawless dramatic structures for their stories.
The more you know about the theory, the more useful the software becomes. This book describes all the key concepts in the Dramatica theory and how to use them with the software.
Can you give a quick description of the theory?
Everything in Dramatica is built around a single central concept called “The Story Mind.” The Story Mind concept states that stories are more than a number of characters doing things in the plot with thematic values in a particular genre. Specifically, Dramatica sees every story as a model of the problem solving processes of the human mind. Characters, plot, theme, and genre are different families of thought that go on in the mind, made tangible, so the audience can watch the inner workings of their own minds to learn how best to solve different kinds of problems.
Characters are the motivations of the Story Mind. Plot represents the methods the Story Mind uses to try and solve the problem, driven by its motivations. Theme illustrates the Story Mind’s conflicting value standards as it tries to determine the best way to evaluate potential solutions to the problem. Genre describes the Story Mind’s overall personality: what kind of a mind is it, that is trying to solve this problem?
How can learning about the Story Mind help me write better stories?
For a story to feel complete to an audience, the story’s problem and possible solutions must be fully explored. If some point of view on the issues or some approach is not tried, then it will feel as if there is a hole in the plot or that there are inconsistent characters.
Dramatica theory has created a map of all the essential points of view and approaches. Each one needs to show up in order for the story to feel complete. So, by learning about the Dramatica theory, one learns how to create a dramatic structure without holes or inconsistencies.
Doesn’t this lead to a “formula” approach to story structure?
It would if Dramatica was just a checklist of points of view and approaches, but it is much more than that! Story structure is actually made up of Story Points. Each Story Point is made up of a point of view on a particular approach. The approach is what the audience is looking at. The point of view positions the audience in relationship to that issue. Together, they create perspectives, each of which is a different Story Point.
Just as in real life, there is more than one way to look at an issue, so too each point of view might be matched to any one of a number of different approaches. When you consider all the different kinds of perspectives (Story Points) that can be created, it is easy to see how Dramatica does not lead to formula stories. In fact, the Dramatica software can create 32,768 completely different dramatic structures, based on the number of Story Points it currently tracks.
Is Dramatica hard to learn?
The concepts aren’t hard, but there are quite a lot of them. This is because Dramatica describes all kinds of stories in great depth. Still, each concept you learn will be immediately useful even by itself in improving your stories. The more concepts you learn, the more you will begin to see how the underlying forces that drive stories actually work. For those who have the patience, you will eventually reach a point where all the concepts blend together in an intuitive understanding of stories that will help you channel your creative inspirations into meaningful directions.
Sounds like a lot of “New Age” mumbo jumbo. Is it?
Not at all. Since Dramatica deals with a model of the human mind and emotions, it is not surprising that it may seem at times almost philosophical. But the theory takes a more precise approach to its subject than philosophy. As an example, the Story Engine in the software that keeps track of the relationships among Story Points is so precise and revolutionary that it received a patent from the United States Government.
Dramatica is the first successful attempt to describe the relationship between what goes on in story structure, and what goes on in the mind. It offers insight into what needs to be in a story and why it needs to be there. By studying the theory and using the software you will learn to improve the structural foundation of your passionate expression as an author.
No one reads a book or goes to a movie to enjoy a good structure. No author writes because he is driven to create a sound structure. Audiences and authors come to opposite sides of a story because of their passions – the author driven to express his, and the audience hoping to ignite its own.
As an audience, what draws us to a story in the first place is our attraction to the subject matter and the style. We might love a taut mystery, a fulfilling romance, or a chilling horror story. We might be intrigued by the potential applications of a new discovery of science, the exploration of newly unearthed ancient city, or the life of a celebrity.
As an author what brings us to write a story may be a clever concept for an action sequence, a bit of dialog, a notion for a character, a setting, time period, a favorite topic, or a clever twist of plot. Or, we might have a deep-seated need to express a childhood experience, work out an irrational fear, or make a public statement about a social injustice.
No matter what our attraction as audience or author, it is our passions that trigger our imaginations. But passion rides on structure, and if the structure is flawed or even broken, then the passionate expression from author to audience will fall.
When structure is done properly, it is invisible, serving only as the carrier wave that delivers the passion to the audience. But when structure is flawed, it adds static to the flow of emotion, breaking up and possibly scrambling the passion so badly that the audience gets nothing of what the author was sending.
Yet, the attempt to ensure a sound structure is an intellectual pursuit. Questions such as “Who is my Protagonist?” “Where should my story begin?” “What happens in Act Two?” or “What is my message?” force an author to turn away from his passion and embrace logistics instead.
As a result, an author often becomes mired in the nuts and bolts of storytelling, staring at a blank page not because of a lack of inspiration, but because he can’t figure out how to make his passion make sense. Worse, the re-writing process is often grueling and frustrating, forcing the author to accept unwanted changes in the flow of emotion for the sake of logic. So what is an author to do? Is there any way out of this dilemma?
As a teacher of creative writing and story structure, some time ago I worked out an approach to story development that allows an author to retain his passion even while serving the demands of structure, and best of all, it’s completely free.
Called the Master Storyteller Method, this system can be used both before you write to know exactly where things will be going and also after you write to find and refine the structure already hidden in your passion.
You won’t be asked to discard any techniques or approaches you are currently using. Rather, you’ll simply be adding to what you already know, to what you are already doing; extending your understanding of how stories really work and how to write them. So why not embark on an expedition into the heart of inspiration and the uncharted frontiers of story structure.
The price is free, the risks are low, the potential rewards are great, and all you need to carry with you are your own passions.
Excerpted from Dramatica Story Structuring Software:
The Main Character represents the audience’s position in the story. Therefore, whether he changes or not has a huge impact on the audience’s story experience and the message you are sending to it.
Some Main Characters grow to the point of changing their nature or attitude regarding a central personal issue like Scrooge in A Christmas Carol. Others grow in their resolve, holding onto their nature or attitude against all obstacles like Dr. Richard Kimble in The Fugitive.
Change can be good if the character is on the wrong track to begin with. It can also be bad if the character was on the right track. Similarly, remaining Steadfast is good if the character is on the right track, but bad if he is misguided or mistaken.
Think about the message you want to send to your audience, and whether the Main Character’s path should represent the proper or improper way of dealing with the story’s central issue. Then select a changing or steadfast Main Character accordingly.
THEORY:
Do you want your story to bring your audience to a point of change or to reinforce its current view? Oddly enough, choosing a steadfast Main Character may bring an audience to change and choosing a change character may influence the audience to remain steadfast. Why? It depends upon whether or not your audience shares the Main Character’s point of view to begin with.
Suppose your audience and your Main Character do NOT agree in attitudes about the central issue of the story. Even so, the audience will still identify with the Main Character because he represents the audience’s position in the story. So, if the Main Character grows in resolve to remain steadfast and succeeds, then the message to your audience is, “Change and adopt the Main Character’s view if you wish to succeed in similar situations.”
Clearly, since either change or steadfast can lead to either success or failure in a story, when you factor in where the audience stands a great number of different kinds of audience impact can be created by your choice.
In answering this question, therefore, consider not only what you want your Main Character to do as an individual, but also how that influences your story’s message and where your audience stands in regard to that issue to begin with.
USAGE:
(For examples of Change and Steadfast Main Characters click on Change or Steadfast above and then select the “Stories” HelpView button .)
Just because a Main Character ultimately remains steadfast does not mean he never considers changing. Similarly, a Change Main Character does not have to be changing all the time. In fact, that is the conflict with which he is constantly faced: to stick it out or to alter his approach in the face of ever-increasing opposition.
Illustrating your Main Character as wavering can make him much more human. Still, if his motivation is strong enough, your Main Character may hold the course or move toward change from the opening scene to the denouement. It all depends on the kind of experience you wish to create for your audience.
There is no right or wrong degree of certainty or stability in a Main Character. Just make it clear to your audience by the end of the story if he has been changed or not by the experience. Sometimes this happens by forcing your Main Character to make a choice between his old way of doing things or a new way. Another way of illustrating your Main Character’s resolve is to establish his reaction in a particular kind of situation at the beginning of the story that tells us something about his nature. After the story’s climax, you can bring back a similar kind of situation and see if he reacts the same way or not. From this, your audience will determine if he has Changed or remained Steadfast.
What if a Main Character Changes when he should Remain Steadfast, or Remains Steadfast when he should Change? Choosing your Main Character’s Resolve describes what your Main Character does without placing a value judgment on him. The appropriateness of his Resolve is determined by other dynamics in your story which will be addressed later. For now, simply choose if your Main Character’s nature has Changed or Remained Steadfast.
Dramatica tracks more than 70 individual story points
and cross-references their combined impact
to create your perfect story structure.
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