Creative Writing, Story Development, Story Structure, Narrative Science
Category Archives: Dramatica
Dramatica is a theory of narrative structure that became the basis for Dramatica story development software. This category covers all things Dramatica from the practical to the science behind it.
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Dramatica – Iterations, Justifications, 1234, and PRCP
Here’s a portion of my response in a recent conversation with a student of Dramatica:
Well, let’s be clear about the different between iterations and flips and rotates. Flips and rotates are justification. Iterations is the process of the mind expanding to the size of mind constant wherein, you can look at something larger that the top of the tower, but you’d lose the bottom level, or vice versa. With four dimensions to look at self – KTAD – and four to look at the material world – MEST – we must make the rounds, mentally, to check the value of each of those eight compared to the other seven. But, in the process of looking at our relationship to the material world, moving from one measurement to the next takes time. So, in a spatial sense, by the time you’ve gotten through all eight measurements, one of the earlier ones might have changed due to inner or outer circumstances, so the mind goes back and does it all again. But in a temporal sense, doing it all again in the same order always favors the last point, so one must go back and do them all again, but in a different order. Of course, this could go on and on, but that’s what iterations are all about – the process of examining all of these different perspectives over again to see if something has changed and in a series of progressively different sequences. Naturally, this reduces inaccuracy, but it cannot eliminate it, no matter how many iterations you build into the system. But that never comes up because of the size of mind constant that can only hold four items across (horizontally) and four levels down (vertically) before you run out of available dimensions and iterations and run into that problem of losing detail to see a bigger picture or losing the overview to see more detail. All you can know about a single point on the helix is expressed by the table of story elements. Any more than that, you are moving up and down the helix.
Now, justification isn’t breaking bonds, it is breaking position (space) or sequence (time) in going through the iterations as listed above. And this is driven by an incompatibility between the mind and the material world, as outlined earlier. So, iterations are non-justified and flips and rotates are the process of justification upon the non-justified mind. PRCP tells you to what degree your spatial assessment is out of whack. 1234 tells you the degree to which your sequential assessment is out of whack. Between the two you can determine if you should go with your spatial or temporal view because it is more accurate. And that is seen in having two justification wind-ups – one that will be labeled with 1234 or PRCP and then wound up again when the other of 1234 or PRCP will be applied. The second one applied is the one doubly out of whack and in a narrative, that is the one that must be changed in order to resolve the inequity, or at least to put the problem where the inequity is.
Here’s an in-depth response to a student of the Dramatica theory who recently stated:
“I assume the Independent has 4 iterations where each Splay and Display go together for a total of 4. This makes 4 Dynamic, 4 Companion, 4 Dependent, 4 Independent, which does give the correct number of appreciations for each tower.”
Here’s my lengthy reply that really gets to the core of how that part of the theory works:
Let’s talk about Independent for a minute. The quad of relationships that can exist between any two items are Dynamic, Companion, Dependent, and Component. Component is the fourth item in pair relationships. There are two dynamic pairs in a quad, two companion pairs, two dependent pairs and two component pairs. What are the two component pairs? Independent and Collective. Independent means all four items in the quad are seen as individual unconnected elements with individual traits. Collective means they are all taken together as a family in which all individual items are part of that family share overall traits.
In truth, every motion from one element in a quad to the next has a vertical component, but it is ignored in the spatial view until, by the time you have gone all around the quad, the vertical rise prevents the fourth item in the quad from connected back to the first in a true circle, creating a cycle as you would in trigonometry.
The spatial view prefers things all on the same level, so rather than addressing the temporal iterative rise element by element, it is ignored until at the fourth level, it all has to be dealt with at once, like a leap year in the calendar, and so the way that forth level works, and its semantic values all reflect the entire vertical rise from all four items combined, all at once.
That’s why Dynamic, Companion, and Dependent have the same feel as one another, each has two instances in the quad, and one will be a positive relationship and one a negative relationship to balance the potential of the polarity.
As you know, a negative dynamic relationship is where both elements beat each other into the ground until no potential is left. A positive dynamic relationship is when the conflict between both elements sparks a synthesis that helps solve the problem. One is destructive, the other constructive.
But what about the component relationships, independent and collective? One is positive and the other negative because one leads to the solution and one away from it. Picture the slinky toy view. A quad is in the middle of the slinky somewhere. From there, you can move up the slinky to the next quad or down the slinky to the next quad.
Collective relationships move up (arbitrary direction) but that means that it combines the elements into a family, thereby moving up to the next level in the tower and are now considered a family, rather than independent elements. Independent relationships move down (arbitrary direction just for illustration of the concept) and split apart into new parents that will have new children in the level below.
The family relationship they previous had is now gone as they are considered parents in their own right and the next level down in the tower is now created.
The mind can only hold four levels of iteration at one time before it runs out of perspectives (we call it the “size of mind constant.” But, like the slinky, it theoretically goes up and down the helix like a railroad track, only covering four railroad ties at a time, but able to move more into the macroscopic overview (up the tower) or down into the details in the other direction, if that is what is needed for a particular problem.
Now keep in mind that is how the mind operates ongoing. But narrative structure does not move up or down. Narrative structure defines the size of mind constant for one particular problem and explores all the mind’s perspective about that problem without moving up or down.
Narratives are a closed system that is defined by the size of mind constant as applied to a single problem. The mind itself is an open system the moves up and down the helix into the broader view or the narrower view as needed for each new problem it fields and must consider.
Bottom line, that is why the fourth pair relationship is actually Independent or Collective – it sets the direction of exploration up or down the town in a given closed system narrative, which mimics the completely open system movement of the mind along the helix in the wild.
That’s it for now, and I’ll be back later to talk about splay and display and your other points, unless you’d rather have me address some other issue instead. Talk to you again soon, either way.
I decided to have a chat with AI about the Dramatica theory as a means of sharing information about the central concepts with more people in a more conversational tone.
Here’s the transcript of our first conversation:
You said:
I’d like to have an ongoing conversation with you about the Dramatica theory of story that I can share with my followers in order to convey information about Dramatica concepts and how they relate to narratives both in fiction and in the real world. You up for this?
ChatGPT said:
Absolutely! I’m up for it. We can discuss Dramatica concepts in depth, explore how they apply to storytelling, and even analyze real-world narratives through the Dramatica lens. Do you have a particular format in mind—like a structured Q&A, casual discussion, or guided walkthroughs of specific topics? Also, would you like to start with an overview for new audiences or jump into more advanced concepts?
You said:
I was thinking that, at least initially, a casual discussion would be best, but including questions from you about anything where you’d like more depth or clarity, and also requests from you to explore side topics that you see as being linked to what we’re discussing at any given time. What do you think about that approach?
ChatGPT said:
That sounds like a great approach! A conversational style will make it more engaging, and I can prompt deeper exploration or suggest related topics as we go. Where would you like to start? Would you prefer to introduce Dramatica in broad strokes, or dive into a particular aspect that you think is foundational or often misunderstood?
You said:
I think we need to begin with some basics overview information for those who are unfamiliar with the Dramatica theory. My notion is we ought to begin by exploring what to me is absolutely the central concept of Dramatica from which all else derives, and that is “the story mind.” Thoughts?
ChatGPT said:
That makes perfect sense. The “story mind” is the foundation of Dramatica, and understanding it unlocks everything else.
To kick things off, how would you introduce the concept of the story mind to someone who has never encountered it before? Would you frame it in terms of how a story functions as a single mind solving a problem, or emphasize its structural implications—like how characters represent aspects of thought? I’m curious how you personally explain it when introducing Dramatica to others.
You said:
My thoughts are that we need to begin at an even more basic level than a single mind solving a problem or that characters represent aspects of the story mind. Those other lines of inquiry are certainly important and each should eventually be explored as we go along. But to start with, I need to convey several things, rather all at once, since each one almost requires a pre-knowledge of the others in order to really get a sense of what the Story Mind concept is all about. How about if I list those key sub-concepts in no particular order, and you help me arrange them for the best presentation to someone new to Dramatica?
ChatGPT said:
That sounds like a solid plan. Go ahead and list the key sub-concepts you think are essential to understanding the Story Mind, and I’ll help arrange them into an order that makes them as clear and accessible as possible for someone new to Dramatica.
You said:
Thanks! Okay, here we go. Let me start with one concept first, have you write a conversational explanation, and then we’ll add more concepts one by one, rewriting the conversational explanation each time until we arrive at a final version that includes all the points we’d like in there. Here’s point one: Every story has a mind of its own, as if it were a real person – a “super-character” in which characters, plot, theme, and genre represent different aspects of the Story Mind’s psychology. Please give this a whirl in more conversational terms, then we’ll add another concept and rewrite to include it.
ChatGPT said:
Got it! Here’s a conversational take on that first concept:
Think of a story not just as a sequence of events, but as if it were a single mind—a kind of “super-character” with its own way of thinking. Just like a person has different mental functions—logic, emotion, desires, doubts—a story has different elements that work together to form a complete psychology. The characters, plot, theme, and even the genre aren’t just separate parts of storytelling; they all represent aspects of this larger Story Mind. In a way, a story is like stepping into someone else’s thought process and watching it play out from the inside.
Does this feel like the right tone? Once you’re happy with it, we can add the next concept and refine it further.
You said:
Not bad! Let’s go with that and add the next concept. Please shorten what I’m about to write and fold it into a new piece of text that incorporates both the section you just wrote and this new concept as well: How did a model of the mind end up as the structure of a story? Why would that be so? The short answer is that in the process of spinning tales, early storytellers found that certain pieces needed to be there for the story to feel complete and also compelling. Over hundreds of generations, and through hit-and-miss, these necessary pieces became the conventions of storytelling. As it turns out, without thinking about it, those pieces were necessary because they are the same issues and techniques we all explore as human beings when trying to grapple with a problem or figure out our best way forward in life. So, without any intent behind it, narrative structure became a model of the common architecture of problem solving shared by every individual. So – please rework this for clarity and brevity, fold it into what we have already, and let’s see what we get.
ChatGPT said:
Here’s the revised version, incorporating both concepts smoothly:
Think of a story not just as a sequence of events but as a single mind—a “super-character” with its own way of thinking. Characters, plot, theme, and even genre all represent different aspects of this Story Mind’s psychology, working together like thoughts and emotions inside a person.
But why does story structure take this form? It all goes back to early storytellers. Over generations, they discovered—through trial and error—that certain elements had to be present for a story to feel complete and compelling. Without realizing it, they were mirroring the way we, as humans, grapple with problems and make decisions. In other words, narrative structure naturally evolved into a model of the way we think.
How does that feel? If it’s working, we can add the next concept and refine it further!
You said:
Hey, that’s pretty good. Let’s go with that and move on to another concept: Armed with the understanding of how narrative structure came to be and what it represents, Dramatica was able to discern and refine that model of the Story Mind, adding missing pieces and moving things into alignment. Previously all other narrative theories tried to understand structure by looking for what worked with stories in their finished version, in which narrative is often obscured by the storytelling that surrounds it. This resulted in story techniques that didn’t work in for all kinds of stories and often were missing pieces as well. But the Dramatica theory, based on the core structure of narrative, was developed so that it works for all stories to create narratives that are consistent and complete, to form the strongest and most powerful foundations for stories. Let’s revise our text to include this, edited and reworked for brevity and clarity, and perhaps to change the tone a bit so it doesn’t sound so much like a sales pitch.
ChatGPT said:
Here’s the revised version, now incorporating the new concept while keeping it clear, balanced, and informative:
Think of a story not just as a sequence of events but as a single mind—a “super-character” with its own way of thinking. Characters, plot, theme, and even genre all represent different aspects of this Story Mind’s psychology, working together like thoughts and emotions inside a person.
But why does story structure take this form? Over generations, storytellers discovered that certain elements had to be present for a story to feel complete and compelling. Without realizing it, they were mirroring how we, as humans, grapple with problems and make decisions. In other words, narrative structure naturally evolved into a model of the way we think.
Dramatica builds on this idea by refining that model, aligning its pieces, and filling in the gaps. Traditional storytelling theories have often looked at finished stories, where narrative structure is intertwined with style, genre, and personal expression. This approach led to techniques that worked some of the time but lacked consistency. Dramatica, in contrast, was developed by examining the core structure beneath storytelling, ensuring a complete and internally sound foundation that works for any story.
This keeps the tone more objective while still making a strong point. How does it feel to you? Ready to add another concept?
You said:
Very nice! Let’s conclude this session here and I’ll return soon with another area of the theory for us to explore. And thanks for your help – I couldn’t do it without you!
ChatGPT said:
You’re very welcome! This has been a great start, and I’m looking forward to diving deeper into Dramatica with you. Just let me know when you’re ready to explore the next area of the theory. Always happy to help—this is exactly the kind of discussion I enjoy. See you next time!
What follows is an excerpt from an early unpublished draft of the book that ultimately became, Dramatica: A New Theory of Story. This section explores the difference between stories that just require effort and those that require choosing the lesser of two evils.
Problems
Without a problem, the Dramatica Model, like the mind it represents, is at rest or Neutral. All of the pieces within the model are balanced and no dramatic potential exists. But when a problem is introduced, that equilibrium becomes unbalanced. We call that imbalance an Inequity. An inequity provides the impetus to drive the story forward and causes the Story Mind to start the problem solving process.
Work Stories and Dilemma Stories
In Dramatica, we differentiate between solvable and unsolvable problems. The solvable problem is, simply, a problem. Whereas an unsolvable problem is called a Dilemma. In stories, as in life, we cannot tell at the beginning whether a problem is solvable or not because we cannot know the future. Only by going through the process of problem solving can we discover if the problem can be solved at all.
If the Problem CAN be solved, though the effort may be difficult or dangerous, and in the end we DO succeed by working at it, we have a Work Story. But if the Problem CAN’T be solved, in the case of a Dilemma, once everything possible has been tried and the Problem still remains, we have a Dilemma Story.
What follows is an excerpt from an early unpublished draft of the book that ultimately became, Dramatica: A New Theory of Story. This section explores the difference between work stories in which the characters must simply overcome obstacles to succeed and dilemma stories, in which characters must change their perspectives if they are to succeed.
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Problems
Without a problem, the Dramatica Model, like the mind it represents, is at rest or Neutral. All of the pieces within the model are balanced and no dramatic potential exists. But when a problem is introduced, that equilibrium becomes unbalanced. We call that imbalance an Inequity. An inequity provides the impetus to drive the story forward and causes the Story Mind to start the problem solving process.
Work Stories and Dilemma Stories
In Dramatica, we differentiate between solvable and unsolvable problems. The solvable problem is, simply, a problem. Whereas an unsolvable problem is called a Dilemma. In stories, as in life, we cannot tell at the beginning whether a problem is solvable or not because we cannot know the future. Only by going through the process of problem solving can we discover if the problem can be solved at all.
If the Problem CAN be solved, though the effort may be difficult or dangerous, and in the end we DO succeed by working at it, we have a Work Story. But if the Problem CAN’T be solved, in the case of a Dilemma, once everything possible has been tried and the Problem still remains, we have a Dilemma Story.
Mind and Universe
At the most basic level, all problems are the result of inequities between Mind (ourselves) and Universe (the environment). When Mind and Universe are in balance, they are in Equity and there is neither a problem nor a story. When the Mind and Universe are out of balance, and Inequity exists between them, there is a problem and a story to be told about solving that problem.
Example: Jane wants a new leather jacket that costs $300.00. She does not have $300.00 to buy the jacket. We can see the Inequity by comparing the state of Jane’s Mind (her desire for the new jacket) to the state of the Universe (not having the jacket).
Note that the problem is not caused soley by Jane’s desire for a jacket, nor by the physical situation of not having one, but only because Mind and Universe are unbalanced. In truth, the problem is not with one or the other, but between the two.
There are two ways to remove the Inequity and resolve the problem. If we change Jane’s Mind and remove her desire for the new jacket — no more problem. If we change the Universe and supply Jane with the new jacket by either giving her the jacket or the money to buy it — no more problem. Both solutions balance the Inequity.
Subjective and Objective Views
From an outside or objective point of view, one solution is as good as another. Objectively, it doesn’t matter if Jane changes her Mind or the Universe changes its configuration so long as the inequity is removed.
However, from an inside or subjective point of view, it may matter a great deal to Jane if she has to change her Mind or the Universe around her to remove the Inequity. Therefore, the subjective point of view differs from the objective point of view in that personal biases affect the evaluation of the problem and the solution. Though objectively the solutions have equal weight, subjectively one solution may appear to be better than another.
Stories are useful to us as an audience because they provide both the Subjective view of the problem and the Objective view of the solution that we cannot see in real life. It is this Objective view that shows us important information outside our own limited perspective, providing a sense of the big picture and thereby helping us to learn how to handle similar problems in our own lives.
If the Subjective view is seen as the perspective of the soldier in the trenches, the Objective view would be the perspective of the General watching the engagement from a hill above the field of battle. When we see things Objectively, we are looking at the Characters as various people doing various things. When we are watching the story Subjectively, we actually stand in the shoes of a Character as if the story were happening to us.
A story provides both of these views interwoven throughout its unfolding. This is accomplished by having a cast of Objective Characters, and also special Subjective Characters. The Objective Characters serve as metaphors for specific methods of dealing with problems. The Subjective Characters serve as metaphors for THE specific method of dealing with problems that is crucial to the particular problem of that story.
What follows is an excerpt from an early unpublished draft of the book that ultimately became, Dramatica: A New Theory of Story. This section introduces the concept of a Story Mind – the notion that characters, plot, theme, and genre are all facets of a larger super mind that is the structure of the story itself
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Stories have traditionally been viewed as a series of events affecting independently-acting characters — but not to Dramatica. Dramatica sees every character, conflict, action or decision as aspects of a single mind trying to solve a problem. This mind, the Story Mind,™ is not the mind of the author, the audience, nor any of the characters, but of the story itself. The process of problem solving is the unfolding of the story.
But why a mind? Certainly this was not the intent behind the introduction of stories as an art form. Rather, from the days of the first storytellers right up through the present, when a technique worked, it was repeated and copied and became part of the “conventions” of storytelling. Such concepts as the Act and the Scene, Character, Plot and Theme, evolved by such trial and error.
And yet, the focus was never on WHY these things should exist, but how to employ them. The Dramatica Theory states that stories exist because they help us deal with problems in our own lives. Further, this is because stories give us two views of the problem.
One view is through the eyes of a Main Character. This is a Subjective view, the view FROM the Story Mind as it deals with the problem. This is much like our own limited view or our own problems.
But stories also provide us with the Author’s Objective view, the view OF the story mind as it deals with a problem. This is more like a “God’s eye view” that we don’t have in real life.
In a sense, we can relate emotionally to a story because we empathize with the Main Character’s Subjective view, and yet relate logically to the problem through the Author’s Objective view.
This is much like the difference between standing in the shoes of the soldier in the trenches or the general on the hill. Both are watching the same battle, but they see it in completely different terms.
In this way, stories provide us with a view that is akin to our own attempt to deal with our personal problems while providing an objective view of how our problems relate to the “Bigger Picture”. That is why we enjoy stories, why they even exist, and why they are structured as they are.
Armed with this Rosetta Stone concept we spent 12 years re-examining stories and creating a map of the Story Mind. Ultimately, we succeeded.
The Dramatica Model of the Story Mind is similar to a Rubik’s Cube. Just as a Rubik’s Cube has a finite number of pieces, families of parts (corners, edge pieces) and specific rules for movement, the Dramatica model has a finite size, specific natures to its parts, coordinated rules for movement, and the possibility to create an almost infinite variety of stories — each unique, each accurate to the model, and each true to the author’s own intent.
The concept of a limited number of pieces frequently precipitates a “gut reaction” that the system must itself be limiting and formulaic. Rather, without some kind of limit, structure cannot exist. Further, the number of parts has little to do with the potential variety when dyanmics are added to the system. For example, DNA has only FOUR basic building blocks, and yet when arranged in the dyamic matrix of the double helix DHN chain, is able to create all the forms of life that inhabit the planet.
The key to a system that has identity, but not at the expense of variety, is a flexible structure. In a Rubik’s cube, corners stay corners and edges stay edges no matter how you turn it. And because all the parts are linked, when you make a change on the side you are concentrating on, it makes appropriate changes on the sides of the structure you are not paying attention to.
And THAT is the value of Dramatica to an author: that it defines the elements of story, how they are related and how to maipulate them. Plot, Theme, Character, Conflict, the purpose of Acts, Scenes, Action and Decision, all are represented in the Dramatica model, and all are interrelated. It is the flexible nature of the structure that allows an author to create a story that has form without formula.
What follows is an excerpt from an early unpublished draft of the book that ultimately became, Dramatica: A New Theory of Story. This section provides an explanation of how stories emerged from the evolution of communication.
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Any writer who has sought to understand the workings of story is familiar with the terms “Character”, “Plot”, “Theme”, “Genre”, “Premise”, “Act”, “Scene”, and many others. Although there is much agreement on the generalities of these concepts, they have proven to be elusive when precise definitions are attempted. Dramatica presents the first definitive explanation of exactly what stories are and precisely how they are structured.
The dramatic conventions that form the framework of stories today did not spring fully developed upon us. Rather, the creation of these conventions was an evolutionary process dating far into our past. It was not an arbitrary effort, but served specific needs.
Early in the art of communication, knowledge could be exchanged about such things as where to find food, or how one felt – happy or sad . Information regarding the location or state of things requires only a description. However, when relating an event or series of events, a more sophisticated kind of knowledge needs to be communicated.
Tales
Imagine the very first story teller, perhaps a cave dweller who has just returned from a run-in with a bear. This has been an important event in her life and she desires to share it. She will not only need to convey the concepts “bear” and “myself”, but must also describe what happened.
Her presentation then, might document what led up to her discovery of the bear, the interactions between them, and the manner in which she returned safely to tell the tale.
Tale: a statement (fictional or non-fictional) that describes a problem, the methods employed in the attempt to solve the problem, and how it all came out.
We can imagine why someone would want to tell a tale, but why would others listen? There are some purely practical reasons: if the storyteller faced a problem and discovered a way to succeed in it, that experience might someday be useful in the lives of the each individual in the audience. And if the storyteller didn’t succeed, the tale can act as a warning as to which approaches to avoid.
By listening to a tale, an audience benefits from knowledge they have not gained directly through their own experience.
So, a tale is a statement documenting an approach to problem solving that provides an audience with valuable experience.
Stories, Objective and Subjective
When relating her tale, the first storyteller had an advantage she did not have when she actually experienced the event: the benefit of hindsight. The ability to look back and re-evaluate her decisions from a more objective perspective allowed her to share a step by step evaluation of her approach, and an appreciation of the ultimate outcome. In this way, valid steps could be separated from poorly chosen steps and thereby provide a much more useful interpretation of the problem solving process than simply whether she ultimately succeeded or failed.
This objective view might be interwoven with the subjective view, such as when one says, “I didn’t know it at the time, but….” In this manner, the benefit of objective hindsight can temper the subjective immediacy each step of the way, as it happens. This provides the audience with an ongoing commentary as to the eventual correctness of the subjective view. It is this differential between the subjective view and the objective view that creates the dramatic potential of a story.
Through the Subjective view, the audience can empathize with the uncertainty that the storyteller felt as she grapples with the problem. Through the Objective view, the storyteller can argue that her Subjective approach was or was not an appropriate solution.
In short then:
Stories provide two views to the audience:
• A Subjective view that allows the audience to feel as if the story is happening to them
• An Objective view that furnishes the benefit of hindsight.
The Objective view satisfies our reason, the subjective view satisfies our feelings.
What follows is an excerpt from an early unpublished draft of the book that ultimately became, Dramatica: A New Theory of Story. This section is the opening introduction to the book in which we arrogantly state, “To that end, Dramatica does not just describe how stories work, but how they should work.”
Introduction
Everybody loves a good story.
“Good” stories seem to transcend language, culture, age, sex, and even time. They speak to us in some universal language. But what makes a story good? And what exactly is that universal language?
Stories can be expressed in any number of ways. They can be related verbally through the spoken word and song. They can be told visually through art and dance. For every sense there are numerous forms of expression. There almost seems no limit to how stories can be related.
Yet for all of its variety, the question remains: “What makes a good story, “good”? What makes a bad story, “bad””?
This book presents a completely new way to look at stories – a way that explains the universal language of stories not just in terms of how it works, but why and how that language was developed in the first place. By discovering what human purposes stories fulfill, we can gain a full understanding of what they need to do, and therefore what we, as authors need to do to create “good” stories.
To that end, Dramatica does not just describe how stories work, but how they should work.
Storyforming vs Storytelling
Before we proceed, it is important to separate Storyform from Storytelling. As an example of what we mean, if we compare West Side Story to Romeo and Juliet, we can see that they are essentially the same story, told in a different way. The concept that an underlying structure exists that is then represented in a subjective relating of that structure is not new to traditional theories of story. In fact, Narrative Theory in general assumes such a division.
Specifically, Structuralist theory sees story as having a histoire consisting of plot, character and setting, and a discours that is the storytelling. The Russian Formalists separated things a bit differently, though along similar lines seeing story as half fable or “fabula”, which also contained the order in which events actually happened in the fable, and the “sjuzet”, which was the order in which these events were revealed to an audience.
These concepts date back at least as far as Aristotle’s Poetics.
In Dramatica, Story is seen as containing both structure and dynamics that include Character, Theme, Plot, and Perspectvie, while classifying the specific manner in which the story points are illustrated and the order information is given to the audience into the realm of storytelling.
Storyforming: an argument that a specific approach is the best solution to a particular problem
Storytelling: the portrayal of the argument as interpreted by the author
Picture five different artists, each painting her interpretation of the same rose. One might be highly impressionistic, another in charcoal. They are any number of styles an artist might choose to illustrate the rose. Certainly the finished products are works of art. Yet behind the art is the objective structure of the rose itself: the object that was being portrayed.
The paintings are hung side by side in a gallery, and we, as sophisticated art critics, are invited to view them. We might have very strong feelings about the manner in which the artists approached their subject, and we may even argue that the subject itself was or was not an appropriate choice. Yet, if asked to describe the actual rose solely on the basis of what we see in the paintings, our savvy would probably fail us.
We can clearly see that each painting is of a rose. In fact, depending on the degree of realism, we may come to the conclusion that all the paintings are of the same rose. In that case, each artist has succeeded in conveying the subject. Yet, there is so much detail missing. Each artist may have seen the rose from a slightly different position. Each artist has chosen to accentuate certain qualities of the rose at the expense of others. That is how the un-embellished subject is imbued with the qualities of each artist, and the subject takes on a personal quality.
This illustrates a problem that has plagued story analysts and theorists from day one:
Once the story is told, it is nearly impossible to separate the story from the telling unless you know what the author actually had in mind.
Certainly the larger patterns and dramatic broad strokes can be seen working within a story, but many times it is very difficult to tell if a particular point, event, or illustration was merely chosen by the author’s preference of subject matter or if it was an essential part of the structure and dynamics of the argument itself.
Let’s sit in once more on our first storyteller. She was telling us about her run-in with a bear. But what if it had been a lion instead? Would it have made a difference to the story? Would it have made it a different story altogether?
If the story’s problem was about her approach to escaping from any wild animal, then it wouldn’t really matter if it were a bear or a lion; the argument might be made equally well by the use of either. But if her point was to argue her approach toward escaping from bears specifically, then certainly changing the culprit to a lion would not serve her story well.
Essentially, the difference between story and storytelling is like the difference between denotation and connotation. Story denotatively documents all of the essential points of the argument in their appropriate relationships, and storytelling shades the point with information nonessential to the argument itself (although it often touches on the same subject).
In summary, even the best structured story does not often exist as an austere problem solving argument, devoid of personality. Rather, the author embellishes her message with connotative frills that speak more of her interests in the subject than of the argument she is making about it. But for the purposes of understanding the dramatic structure of the piece, it is essential to separate story from storytelling.
Traditionally, theories of story have looked at existing works and attempted to classify patterns that could be seen to be present in several stories. In fact, even today, computer scientists working in “narrative intelligence” gather enormous data bases of existing stories that are broken down into every discernable pattern in the attempt to create a program that can actually tell stories.
Dramatica was not created by observing existing stories and looking for patterns, but by asking new questions: Why should there be characters at all? What is the purpose of Act divisions? What is the reason for Scenes? In short, Why are there stories in the first place?
What follows is an excerpt from an early unpublished draft of the book that ultimately became, Dramatica: A New Theory of Story. This initial section is a note from me to Chris explaining the layout of the material in the draft to be considered for inclusion in the final relase version.
Note from Melanie to Chris:
This material is divided into seven sections. Each is described briefly below:
Section One: The existing book
This is the most complete and updated version I wrote. I have edited in additional essays to fill holes, and changed and updated terms. Aside from the Exploratorial, this approx 200K document contains all our best shots at explaining the whole damn thing.
Section Two: The Storyforming Exploratorial
Much of this material is culled from the book in section one. Still, there are important updates and changes in perspective and terms in this version. In fact, if you choose to use the book material, look to this part of the tutorial for slightly different and sometimes better versions of the same material. There is also much new material here. This section was designed to describe what Dramatica is.
Section Three: The Storytelling Exploratorial
You’ve already read through this one and shared your comments. I have not yet incorporated any changes, pending what your decisions are about what ought to be used of all this material in the book. This section was designed to tell an author how Dramatica will affect their audience.
Section Four: The Dramatica and the Creative Writer Exploratorial
This section describes the relationship between Dramatica and the author in a conceptual, philosphic sense.
Section Five: The Putting it in Motion Exploratorial
This section describes what it feels like when writing from the appreciations, so that an author can tap into their emotional experience of creating.
Section Six: The Scientific American Article
‘Nuf said on this one! I do feel this should be in the book in the back somewhere to give the tenacious reader something to dig into and to document the extent of our work.
Section Seven: Various appendices
I’m sure you have updated versions of these, but I just threw in the Help, DQS and Definition stuff to have my most recent versions all in one place, since these need to be at the back of the book anyway.
Imagine a story’s structure as a war and the Main Character as a soldier making his way across the field of battle. In your mind’s eye, you likely see they whole scene spread out in front of you, as if you were a general on a hill watching the conflict unfold.
That all-seeing “God’s eye view” is a perspective not available to the Main Character, but only the author and audience (as he chooses to reveal it, here and there, casting light on that dark understanding of what is really going on or keeping the readers in the dark.
But there is a second point of view implied in this war of words – that of the Main Character himself. The Main Character has no idea what lies over the next hill, or what troubles may be lurking in the bushes. Like all of us, he must rely on our experience in trying to make it through alive.
The view through the eyes of the Main Character puts your readers in his shoes, experiencing the pressures first hand, feeling the power of the moment. In a sense, this most perspective connects the Main Character’s tribulations (both logistic and emotional) to those we all grapple with in real life. It draws us in, makes us personally involved, and also causes us to see the message or moral of the story as being applicable to our own journey.
Many authors establish both the overall story and the Main Character’s glimpse of it and stop there, believing they have covered all the angles. After all, the Main Character can’t see the big picture and that overview can’t portray the immediacy of the struggle on the ground. All bases covered, right?
In fact, no. Suddenly, through the smoke of dramatic explosions the Main Character spies a murky figure standing right in his path. In this fog of war, he cannot tell if this other soldier is a friend or foe. Either way, he is blocking the road.
As the Main Character approaches, this other soldier starts waving his arms and shouts, “Change course – get off this road!” Convinced he is on the best path, the Main Character yells back, “Get out of my way!” Again the figure shouts, “Change course!” Again the Main Character replies, “Let me pass!”
The Main Character has no way of knowing if his opposite is a comrade trying to prevent him from walking into a mine field or an enemy fifth column combatant trying to lure him into an ambush. But if he stops on the road, he remains exposed with danger all around. And so, he continues on, following the plan that still seems best to him.
Eventually, the two soldiers converge, and when they do it becomes a moment of truth in which one will win out. Either the Main Character will alter course or his steadfastness will cause the other soldier to step aside.
This other soldier is called the Influence character, and though you may not have heard of him, this other soldier is essential to describing the pressures that bring the Main Character to a point of decision.
In our own minds we are often confronted by issues that question our approach, attitude, or the value of our hard-gained experience. But we don’t simply adopt a new point of view when our old methods have served us so well for so long. Rather, we consider how things might go if we adopted this new system of thinking right up to the moment we have to make a choice.
It is a long hard thing within us to reach a point of change, and so too is it a difficult feat for the Main Character. In fact, it takes the whole story to reach that point of climax where the Main Character must choose to stay on course or to step off into the darkness, hoping they’ve made the right choice – the classic “Leap of Faith.”
This other character provides a third perspective to a story’s structure – that of an opposing belief system that the Main Character is pressured to consider. What would the original Star Wars have been without Obi Wan Kenobi continually urging Luke to “Trust the force?” How about A Christmas Carol without Marley’s ghost, as well as the ghosts of Past, Present, and Future?
Without an Influence character, there is no reason for the Main Character to question his beliefs. But just having an opposing perspective isn’t all that an Influence Character brings to a story.
A convincing theme or message is not built just by establishing an alternative world view to that of the Main Character. That would come off as simply moralizing since it presents the two sides as cut and dried, in black and white. Few life-changing decisions in life are as simple as that.
Rather, the two views must also be played against each other in many scenarios so the Main Character (who represents us all) can begin to connect the dots and ultimately choose the tried and true approach that isn’t working or the new approach that has never been tried. In other words, at the moment of conflict, both courses are evenly balanced which is why, no matter which side the Main Character comes down on, it is a leap of faith.
It is that repeated questioning of the Main Character’s closely held beliefs that comprises the fourth perspective of our story when seen as a war – the personal story between the Main Character and the Influence Character in which the author’s message is argued.
This fourth point of view elevates a structure from being a simple tale that states “here is how it is,” to a fully developed story that makes the case for “here’s why it is as it is.” Such stories feel far more complete, even though they may still work well-enough to be successful without it.
For example, in the movie, A Nightmare Before Christmas, Jack Skellington, King of Halloween Town, is dissatisfied with his lot in life and decides to take over Christmas by kidnapping Santa Claus.
The kidnapping and all that follows in the plot is that Overall perspective of the general on the hill.
Jack is the Main Character, trying to improve his life through altering his situation, embodying perspective number two.
Jack’s girlfriend, Sally, is the Influence Character, providing the third perspective: an alternative belief system. As Wikipedia puts it: “Sally is the only one to have doubts about Jack’s Christmas plan.” Essentially, he tell Jack that Halloween and Christmas should not be mixed and he should be satisfied with who he is.
But that fourth perspective is missing – the thematic argument between those two conflicting points of view that would have provided a strong and organic message to the story. Sally states her opposition, but she and Jack never pit one way of looking at the world against the other, not through discussions, nor argument, nor even through a series of scenes illustrating the value of one over the other.
Think back to A Christmas Carol. How many times is Scrooge’s world view contrasted against that of the ghosts in a whole series of scenarios? But in Nightmare, the opposing world view is stated but never argued, leaving the story, though incredibly inventive and exciting, somehow less satisfying in a way the audience can’t quite identify.
All four of these perspectives are needed for a story structure to be as powerful as it can be. In developing your own stories, consider our analogy of story structure as war to ensure that each of them is present, and your story will be far stronger for it.
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