Storytelling made dead simple

Aspiring writers frequently agonize over words, sentences, and paragraphs. They want to get every piece of it right. Because they admire great writers’ style and distinctive presentation, they believe the technical aspects of writing are foremost. They are not.  Storytelling is foremost. If you don’t believe me, listen to Kurt Vonnegut on the Shapes of Stories. Here is one of the best writers of the 20^th century telling us how to compose a story.

Pablo Picasso

Great writers first understand the art of storytelling, and then concentrate on telling it in a fresh and pitch-perfect manner. The painting to the left is a portrait of Pablo Picasso’s mother, painted by her son in 1896. All of her features appear to be on the proper side of her face. This was not an isolated Picasso painting. Before shaking up the art world with George Brague, Picasso mastered the craft of figurative painting. For Picasso—and most great authors—a thorough understanding of how to use their medium came before experimentation.

The basics of storytelling are simple. I was taught that in the first fifth of the book, you get the protagonist up a tree. In the middle section, you throw rocks at the protagonist. In the final section, you get the protagonist out of the tree. This sounds simple and close to what Vonnegut advises. It’s surprising how such a simple formula creates an interesting story. After all, no matter how pretty your sentences, you must keep the reader interested or he or she will wander off to parts unknown.

Mash-ups—Second Thoughts

Previously I wrote a blog posting which questioned whether Western mash-ups worked. I personally dislike mash-ups because they rely too much on a clever big concept rather than on good storytelling. I suspect Hollywood likes mash-ups because they don't think a Western story can stand on its own, especially with the younger crowd. So I openly displayed my prejudice against projects that draped a popular genre disguise over a Western in order to make it more marketable. Besides, I hated Cowboys and Aliens. I prefer unalloyed Westerns.

Except I forgot one of my favorite Westerns. Part of the attraction of Westerns is vicarious adventure, and no film caught this concept better than the Yul Brynner classic Westworld, which happened to be a science fiction/Western mash-up before someone coined the term. What would happen if an imaginary adventure became life-threatening? How would a naïve observer react if make-believe suddenly became real? Now that’s a theme for a great story.

All of this was brought to mind when I read that HBO has committed to a Westworld series pilot by Bad Robot and Warner Bros. Here is the story in Variety. So I was wrong. All mash-ups are not bad … only the ones I don’t like.

Related Posts

Has a Western mash-up ever worked?

Slice of Life vs. Bigger Than Life

Superheroes are the polar opposite of a slice of life. Killing lifeless zombies, evil vampires, extraterrestrial aliens, or bad witches is not a slice of most people’s lives. At least, not people I know. Popular culture has a hard time seeing that Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird makes Gerry Lane in World War Z look like a wimp. Our heroes live in a fantasy world because heroics in real life are make-believe.

Hollywood is especially prone to fantasy. Sherlock Holmes was a cerebral detective until reincarnated by Robert Downey Jr. as a martial arts action hero. Hansel & Gretel kill witches with weapons a gamester would love. The Lone Ranger wields guns and fists like a superhero and can even leap tall buildings in a single bound. The trend is to go extreme, the more extreme, the better.

Comedy has become unworldly, as well. Real people are not that outrageous, uncouth, or ill mannered. The problem with being edgy is that you have to continuously venture ever closer to the precipice. Would On Golden Pond, As Good as it Gets, or When Harry Met Sally get green lighted today. Probably only if they added some never-before-seen shocks. (Okay, shoving Simon’s dog Verdel down the garbage chute probably qualifies.)

Am I arguing for a return to slice of life stories? Not really. I like action/adventure, clever dialogue comedies, and especially mystery/suspense stories. And I write Westerns. None of which fit in the slice of life genre. I would prefer, however, more variety in contemporary fiction and film. Fiction is not as big of a problem because good books stay around and there are thousands still waiting for me. Movies are different. When I look at a theater listing and six out of eight films are about men and women that can deflect a bullet with a sword, slice a monster’s head off while leaping six feet off the floor, or throw a paralyzing blow from a piece of stick, I usually end up staying home to watch yet another permutation of CSI. 

Fiction: art or craft?

You can buy innumerable books about how to write fiction. I have bookshelves full of them. Some help, but most are regurgitations of the same old stuff. The majority of these how-to books present a formulistic approach: If you get each of these elements right, you’ll have a bestseller. I beg to differ.

Neither too hard or too soft

I once bought three writing books simultaneously. The first was the bestselling text for college creative writing courses, the second was How to Write a Novel for Dummies, and the third was a middle-of-the -road advice book by a relatively successful novelist. The worst of the bunch was the college textbook which was all about mechanics and literary devices. Plot was reduced to paint-by-numbers. The Dummies book was a poor second. The actionable advice could have been adequately summarized on two typewritten pages. The middle-of-the-road book was by far the best of the breed and it has guided my book buying on writing from that point forward.

I’m biased. I believe storytelling is the most important aspect of fiction. Characterization is a close second, with plot a distant third. Literary devices are inconsequential until you have a compelling story.

There are great storytellers, great writers, and great storytelling writers. The first can be commercially successful, but eventually fade away. The second never gain a large audience. The third become immortal.

(Twain, Shakespeare, and Homer are but three examples.)

Raymond Chandler wrote, “all art at some time and in some manner becomes mass entertainment, and that if it does not it dies and is forgotten.” The secret to mass appeal is engaging stories. 

Fiction may be art or craft, but it is certainly not engineering.