Solving the Story Problem
Or the cure to writer's block
What’s better, solving a particular problem, or learning how to solve problems? Well, money is great, finding a $100 bill in public, but learning how to make money is far more valuable. Learning how to solve problems is far greater than solving a particular problem. You may learn how to hammer a nail, but with the study of carpentry comes the ability to figure out everything downstream from that. I believe story structure is the problem which all storytellers must solve.
I hear a lot of people talk about writer’s block. All the time. I used to be the same way. I’d complain about having no ideas, ever, without the knowledge of the way out. And let me tell you, there is a way out.
Armature
There is nothing more important in your story than it’s theme. Nothing. Story artist and living legend Brian McDonald uses the word armature. This is a word I wholeheartedly adopt. His explanation for the use of this word is straightforward: when Brian worked at a creature shop - a studio for designing animatronics, puppets, etc. - the people he worked with called the bare-bones skeleton of these creatures an armature. Imagine any of the animatronics you’ve seen in movies or theme parks without any of the exterior design. Just a skeleton. They started with the armature and built off it for the rest of the design. Stories work just the same!
An armature is like a theme, but themes are commonly reduced to one word ideas like love, revenge, or adventure. You must understand that while themes of love, revenge, or adventure may be aspects of stories you write, they are not armatures. An armature is a proposition. It’s a position you’re willing to take; a truth you’re willing to spend years proving to yourself over and over again.
Examples of armatures include phrases such as: Fear denies a good father from being one (Finding Nemo), You might already have what you’re looking for (The Wizard of Oz), Happiness is only real when shared (Into The Wild), and Irrational love defeats life’s programming (Wall-E). These are a few armatures you may already be familiar with. Well…do you agree with them? Probably, right? These phrases aren’t proposed on a whim. These are carefully thought out proposals that writers have argued throughout their entire story. Pixar movies take around four years to make, start to finish. All that time they hone and prove the armature to themselves. So, you have to believe what you’re saying. Otherwise you’ll never push through.
Three Act Structure
Okay, I can already see eyes rolling and (metaphoric) pages turning, but stick with me. I’ve already written an article solely devoted to the beauty of the three act structure, so if you’d like to catch up, feel free to leave now and come back when you’re ready.
Did you read it? NO? Fine. Either way, we are about to dive into one of my favorite things on planet earth.
A natural question a lot of people raise when it comes to the three act structure is if it limits self expression and produces cookie-cutter, predictable stories. Have no fear. Your voice will not be lost in the format. Let me ask you this: would you build a boat without a plan? Would you trust someone to sail you across the sea in a boat they built by throwing things together and hoping it worked? It’s okay, I already know the answer. Here’s the catch: reading a story without structure is far more dangerous.
OUTRAGEOUS, I know, but I can back it up. It’s pretty philosophical, but trust me. When you read, watch, or listen to a story, what are you actually doing? You’re taking in information. Okay. What kind of information? It should be clear, given this phrase almost always precedes every story: Let me tell you about the time I…
Let me tell you about the time I what? Embarked on a hero’s journey? Maybe not, but you know what I mean. Stories always consist of a character, goal, and obstacle. The three act structure is the guide for how those things interact. If nothing else, please understand this: the three act structure is your guide to pacing. I could write a whole article about that statement alone. Basically, you have the first act, act two a, act two b, and act three. Sort of four act, but only due to the midpoint which sits where you would expect it to. At the end of each of those four acts is a climax. They waver in intensity, but they are climaxes nonetheless. So, what does that even mean, practically? It means you are always building! From the moment you start the first act, you’re building towards the climax of act one: the protagonist crossing the threshold.
Characters
So, by now you have an armature and a structure. You know what you’re going to say and how you’re going to say it. Oh, but wait. You’re writing, not making a YouTube video, which means you need other people to say things for you. Time to chef up some delicious friends. Or enemies.
There are two kinds of characters. There are protagonists…and there’s everybody else. Seriously. Your protagonist, your hero, the character you probably crafted to be just like you, or at least who you think you are, is the one who doesn’t understand the armature. So, the protagonist in Finding Nemo is Marlin. He doesn’t understand that fear denies a good father from being one. But he will. In Into The Wild, the true story of Christopher McCandless, McCandless learns that happiness is only real when shared. The whole time all he does is run farther and farther away from others. He dies alone in the Alaskan wilderness. When his body was found, his journal was found too. Guess what was written inside…I know.
This stuff is real, and it’s no joke. Stories influence the world far more than anything else. So to do some good for the world, formulate an armature, tell a story proving the armature with structure so people can actually understand what you’re trying to say, and populate that story with characters who prove your point. But it is more than proving your point. All of this serves the purpose of clarity. If Andrew Stanton wasn’t clear when writing Finding Nemo — and trust, me he knew everything and more than I just laid out — there would be many people who never became better fathers for their children. That isn’t a guess. It’s true. That’s what he contributed to the world.
What will you?