Structuring An Idea Into A Story

Two problems commonly faced by writers are: 1) having a great idea and not knowing what to do with it and 2) having a great idea turn out bad.  More often than not, problem two arises from mishandling the idea. In that respect, problem two represents the result of a writer (knowingly or unknowingly) dealing with problem one, who went ahead and wrote the story anyway.

Having an idea and knowing what to do with are two different matters. For getting ideas, see the notes on Ending Writer's Block. Ideas, in their purest essence, are wonderful, formless and perfect. It's in attempting to harness an idea and make it take form that problems arise.  As with so many things in life, concept (the idea) is the easy part. Applying (writing) the idea is what's hard. As a "real world" example, consider this: Understanding the cosmos (concept) may be easy for some and hard for others. But creating a cosmos (application) is pretty much impossible for us mere mortals. Fortunately, the transformation of idea to story isn't impossible, though it may be hard.

When Perfectly Good Ideas Go Awry

If a story doesn't work, set it aside for however long it takes to forget it. Then look at the tale with fresh eyes. Often, all it takes is time to reveal the cracks and flaws in a story. Time wears away at all veneers. If the flaws are apparent, fix them. If not, a little more time may be required. Possibly, the story needs to be seen by completely fresh eyes--those belonging to someone else. If you seek an outside critique, be very clear on what you are looking for in terms of a critique. You might wish to review my How to Critique notes with your chosen reader.

Although most problems can be fixed, if the problem appears insurmountable, throw away the story, but keep the idea at its core. Perhaps the idea simply needs reworking from another vantage. In reworking an old idea, I recommend trying a different approach in developing the new story. That way, the story is less likely to fall back into the same flawed path.

Whether reworking a flawed story or starting with a fresh idea, the following methods for structuring a story will hopefully help out.

From Idea To Plot

Seldom do story's present themselves as a whole, complete idea--with characters, plot etc. Usually an idea is a piece of a story. It might be just a character, or a setting, or thread of a plot--for example: A guy climbs a mountain and finds an amazing alien device.   At first glance, that can sound like a complete story. But a story needs so much more information. We need to know what guy. Why did he climb the mountain in the first place? What does the device do? How does the guy use or intend to use the device? Will we find this guy worthy of the device? What does the guy learn in climbing the mountain? Does he use the device well? What is the story trying to tell us on a deeper, theme level? To be a story, all those and more questions have to be answered to the reader's satisfaction. In developing answers, a writer develops a story.

There is no right way to develop a story. There can be a wrong way to develop a particular story for a particular writer. Only the writer can know the right way for him/her as applies to a given story. I use different methods for different stories.

As illustrated above, I often use questions to help me figure out where I'm going and why. To do that, I must have at least a thread of a plot or a solid feel about the character I want to write. That means I'd have an idea about the character's "job" and can go from there . . . as was discussed on the page about Ending Writer's Block.

Sometimes, a writer really wants to jump on a story, even when the idea isn't fully developed, that all that exists is a seed of thought. That results in organic writing.

Growing a Story from a Seed

Organic writing is a kind of stream of conscious writing. Start where the story seems to begin and just start writing. Turn off the inner editor. It doesn't matter if a scene has nothing to do with what might be the plot. All of what matters will be determined later, upon reaching the natural end. You'll know when that is. Of the various methods, this is one I use the least. Having talked with other writers who write organically, we agree that this method generally takes longer and there's more generated waste.

Consider a plant analogy, as the method is called "organic." A finished story, in the plant world, would be a topiary. A topiary has a specific shape and we know what it is--just as we would recognize a story from a poem, an essay, an article, an advertisement or a random collection of words. Yet a tree or bush will not naturally grow into a topiary.  Creating a topiary requires taking a bush and hacking away at it, removing all the branches and parts that do not look like the desired object. The same will happen to the organic story. All those scenes and little pieces that do not create a story will have to be cut and either deleted or saved in a scrap file. Even then, there's no guarantee of creating a story. Just as there's no guarantee that trimming a bush will result in the desired topiary. Sometimes a part needed to create the desired image simply didn't grow from the bush, just as the necessary part for the story to work may not have come out in the organic process. In both cases, there may not be a way to fix the topiary/story. In the worst-case scenario, the story is back to square one, requiring a second try. But in most cases, the writer, having determined the story can go back and write in the missing pieces.

For me, that method involves too much lost writing and then a feeling that I'm "patching" the story.  That said, there are still times I use organic writing. Mostly, I default to this method when I have no idea where the idea can or wants to go. I only know that I am enamored of an idea and hope it will find a story on its own.

Most of the time, I fashion the story.  Writing is, after all, a craft.

Story Crafting -- Fixing, Mending, Starting from Scratch

To narrow my focus on the idea, I employ the same exercises outlined in Ending Writer's Block. Making lists of things associated with the idea can help. Somewhere in the list I've always found a path. If something isn't speaking to you, then you're not finished making your list. Isolate what it is about the idea that resonates with you. Find the one thing, or several things, that hit the right, resonating note. Determine who the right character to tell this story is. Think of it like a casting call.

Which brings to light a possible fix to a problematic story: Tell the story from a different character's point-of-view. It's possible the wrong character is trying to tell your story. While it's likely there's another character under your nose who would've told the story better, it's possible that the character you need isn't on the page . . . yet. You need another casting call.

A fun mental exercise is to take a movie and think about how different it would be if the film had focused on a different character. Or how different it would be with completely different actors in the roles. Or how a different director would have gone a different way. Sometimes it's easier to play "what if" games with someone else's work than our own while developing the skill necessary to spot whom the really important character is.

Don't despair if your hero really isn't this story's hero. Find the right hero for this story or find the right story for your hero. Or do both; no one says you can't.

You can use lists to determine who is the most important character. Write down each of your major characters' goals, risks, and what he or she stands to gain. The character with the most to win or lose is usually the point-of-view. If not, there must be a compelling reason for why. Sherlock Holmes, though clearly the most important character in his stories, is not the point-of-view because the character was drawn to be so brilliant that readers couldn't follow his internal logic; and when a character's thought process is too "alien," readers will be either confused or distanced or both. As well, if the logic could be laid out so neatly that readers could easily follow it, it would destroy Sherlock Holmes's "magic"--for certainly his sleuthing abilities so exceed normalcy that they practically border on the supernatural.

Lists can help in numerous ways. How a list is organized and how it's used is a personal preference.

When it comes to new ideas, there's likely to be an unfamiliar aspect of it that requires research. Even if that's not the case, research it anyway. It's always possible there's something out there about the idea you haven't thought of--whether it's because you didn't remember it or didn't know it is irrelevant. Research will reinforce what you know and potentially reveal that which you didn't know.

Research to find the way.

Whether the story idea involves a historical character, a historical time period, or will be modeling after some culture, or uses some "job"--meaning anything, a craft, a ruling position, a performance art, or even homeless--there's always something in the idea that can be researched.

When I research, I start with whatever aspect is prevalent and most unfamiliar. As I read about my "idea" I write down anything that's interesting. Whether that tidbit makes it into the tale doesn't matter. I'm making lists. And in the research stage, I really don't know what will or won't be important later on. Although I have far more on the list than I'll need, any unused information is now stored as being useful information for another story. Often I've gotten three or four good stories out of one researched topic. So while I've never reused cut scenes from stories (so far), I have used bits of research that wasn't used in the initial story.

Always in creating lists, cross-reference them frequently to see if pieces are naturally trying to fit together. In an ideal scenario, research reveals information that dovetails so perfectly with the intended plot, it feels as if you were psychic. Often, research either yields nothing that fits with the intended plot or the information contradicts the plot. In these cases, reevaluate the plot. Or, depending on the information, you may be able to explain why certain "facts" do not apply. For example, Albert Einstein is dead. If you want him in a modern day story, you will have to explain why he's here, why he's not dead. Alternate History stories do this all the time. Their very premise is that something occurred in history that really didn't, thus changing history, or something that really did happen, didn't, thus changing history.

After enough pieces are fitted together, thus fleshing out the character and plot, the story (or plotline) is ready to be structured.

Structuring the Plot

All plots have to be structured at some point. Whether they are structured after-the-fact, as is done with organic writing, or are structured before doesn't change the fact that the finished story must contain some semblance of order. Or else the story rambles and doesn't make sense. Many writers dislike using outlines, or other structuring means, because they feel it limits them. If you believe a writing tool will limit you, then you will be limited. I don't feel restricted to any outline I construct. I consider it a framework and if, in the construction of my story, I decided to veer from my path, I do so. If I go far astray, I may stop and re-outline. Sometimes the change of route produces a better story. Other times the change takes me so far off track, the story becomes lost or doesn't tell the story I want to tell. Then I go back to that point of divergence and get back on track. Without an outline, however, I would've never realized where that fork in the path had been.

At one time or another, I've used all the following methods. In some instances, I've used more than one on the same story.

1) Outline
2) Synopsis
3) Timeline
4) Graph
5) Paradigm
6) Storyboard

Outline verses Synopsis

These words are often used interchangeably. And even when they're not, their definitions may be switched from one source to another. So here's how I think of their differences.

Think of the synopsis as abstract on the story. It states in a paragraph or page (three at most) who the main character is, the character's goals and obstacles, and the "point" of the story followed by a rundown of the story's highlights. Sort of like a book report--with just enough details to illustrate the plot and character arc. Really focus on getting across the character arc.

The outline is more of an in-depth look at the storyline. And no, you don't have to write them with Roman numerals and letters. Some authors write outlines like a series of synopses--a synopsis of each chapter essentially. I write mine as if I were telling myself the story sans dialogue. I have done 100 page outlines for novels. As well, I've done 5 page outlines for stories that ended up being 20 pages when completed. In my "telling" I write what down everything that happens in order of the events. So it's like a news reporter covering an event . . . or like an elementary school book report.  I also include bits that tell me what's going on in a character's head--his motivations, feelings, etc. I do this for all characters and not just the point-of-view. Knowing how another character feels will help write that character's behavior in the scene.

In outlining novels, I do have an idea of where the chapter will break. That's not always how it ends up. But it's a start. In outlining a short story, I know where a scene will break.

Another way to consider the outline approach is to think of it as the first very rough draft. It's all telling. But in the second draft, dialogue and description are added in. At the same time, the scenes that were "told" are revised, given more active words that will "show" the scene.

Timeline or Graph

Both of these graphic methods are a more visual way to track the story's progress. The timeline helps with sequencing events. Because the "units" on any linear line are in equal measurements, having a timeline will show where action is clumping.  Any measure of time can be used for units. The timeline can be hashed out with hours, days, months, or years. Larger units are more likely to be used in the case of novels--and then they are especially helpful when the novel involves a lot of travel, as in a quest plot.

For a timeline, draw a line.  Mark out the time used in the story. Does it happen in a day? Then use hours. Does it happen over the course of a week? Then use days.

Beneath each mark jot down a quick (brief) note as to what occurred at the time. This is really helpful for determining continuity. In noting events according to time, each event isn't necessarily climatic. They may be mundane but they indicate where the plot is at a given time. So one might read, 8 am -- Tom arrives for work.  9 am -- Tom in business meeting.  10 am -- Tom and Bob argue over business plan.  11 am -- Tom makes an appointment to "blow the whistle" on Bob.  Noon -- while going to lunch, Tom is struck on head from behind.  Okay, 8 and 9 am don't sound particularly momentous, but they establish what's going on. In fact, you might never write the 8 am scene. In the story, it might be nothing more than a line--Tom arrived at work right on time, eight am sharp. Or it might never come up. The timeline is for the writer's purpose.

For the graph you'll need an X and Y-axis.  Draw the vertical line along the left side of the paper (the X-axis) and the horizontal line (the Y-axis) along the bottom. You're only using the upper right quadrant (Quadrant I). All story graphs should have similar properties. The plotline starts at the bottom, left-hand corner and steadily rises up in a series of jagged lines, creating a variety of peaks and plateaus. The peak of each jag represents a mini-climax, some major event that usually set the hero back. The last, tallest peak should be the story's main climax, the big scene, the pay-off. After that peak, there's a short, final drop in which any "wrap-up" is done.

Every story will have its own number of peaks with each peak successively taller than the last. If not, the story doesn't "build up."

At each peak, write a brief description or note a phrase that relates the nature of that peak. For instance, Tom never came home; Jenny worried.  The next peak is, The police called; Tom's car found abandoned. Then at another peak, Tom's body discovered. See, each mini-climax builds to the next.

Using a Paradigm

On my World Building Foundations pages, I discussed modeling a culture on an existing culture. Just as cultures are out there, so are plots. In one form or another, all plots have been written. There's nothing totally original out there. Some will say there's only three plots--Man -vs- Man, Man -vs- Nature and Man -vs- Himself.  Others say there's six or twelve. It all depends on how broad or how narrow one wishes to focus the definition of a plot.  I recommend the book "20 Master Plots" by Ronald B. Tobias.

Plot models are useful tools to develop a plot. As well, a plot model is a useful tool for reviewing a finished plot. In Tobias's book, he discusses the qualities that define a particular plot, using examples. Afterward he provides a checklist of questions of which all or most should have been considered in your story. Each checklist is unique to its plot.

Tobias's 20 Plots are:
1. Quest              11. Metamorphosis
2. Adventure       12. Transformation
3. Pursuit            13. Maturation
4. Rescue           14. Love
5. Escape           15. Forbidden Love
6. Revenge         16. Sacrifice
7. the Riddle       17. Discovery
8. Rivalry             18. Wretched Excess
9. Underdog       19.  Ascension
10. Temptation   20. Descension

However, even without his book, you can take any other book, film or TV show story and construct a basic series of what happened.

I'm going to add a 21st plot to Tobias's list -- I call this Plot "The World Hopper." This would be the plot of The Wizard of Oz, Gulliver's Travels, Alice in Wonderland, A Connecticut Yankee in King Author's Court, Terry Brook's Magic Kingdom for Sale and countless others. All these stories take a person from Earth, usually from a contemporary timeframe, and transports them to some wondrous world. But that's not all they have in common. The paradigm might be broken down as follows:

1) Start in an urban setting and introduce the point-of-view character.
2) Establish what problem the character faces in the modern world. What is going on in this character's life?
3) The character, by some means, is transported to a fantastic world. Alice fell down a hole; Dorothy got picked up by a tornado, Gulliver was shipwrecked, etc.
4) The character may initially be intrigued by the new world and wish to explore. Or the character immediately wants to go home. Either way, the character early on will seek ways to return home.
5) In seeking the way home, or while exploring, the character becomes involved with characters from this strange world. Perhaps that involvement becomes dangerous.
6) These new characters have troubles of their own.  The munchkins dealt with a wicked witch with flying monkeys. The Lilliputians were at war.
7) The pov character becomes involved in trying to solve the problems in the strange world.
8) In doing so, the character grows and learns. Perhaps even, the character has figured out a way to deal with his/her problems back in the real world.
9) Either the character goes back . . . or stays. Either way, whatever troubles the character initially faced in step 2 of this paradigm, the character must resolve on some level. Most often, the character gets home and takes care of it. However, the character can come to accept the problem, if it's something insurmountable, or can grow enough to realize it was never a problem at all.

Storyboard

This is how scripts, especially those for animated features or films with a great deal of special effects are often organized. But it can be done with or without pictures. I like it for multiple point-of-view stories. The basics involve one index card or piece of paper per scene. On the card (or paper) you would draw an image with a caption to indicate what that scene is about. I put a brief synopsis of the scene on a half-sheet of paper. It's important each scene be on something separate. So I might write something as brief as: Tom moves in with Jenny. Or I might write addition event notes for the scene, such as--Tom breaks Jenny's favorite lamp by accident; Jenny pretends to break one of Tom's model cars by accident and an argument between them ensues.

Once the scenes are down on paper (or cards) you spread them out and see how they progress visually. This is true even without the pictures. I lay my out vertically, with the story starting at the top and working down. Others do a side-by-side layout with the story progressing from left to right.

This method is particularly helpful in two situations:
1) Where the scenes can be arranged in more than one order.
2) Where there are multiple viewpoints.

The first is obvious, you can rearrange and see which scene order builds up better.

The second helps maintain continuity. Suppose a story needs five points of view. (So this is probably a novel.) When one point of view is telling the story, readers will assume that the other four points of view are doing something. Because its easy to forget that, timeline continuity can become flawed or feel that way. Say the first scene establishes that tomorrow Rachel is going to the theater. The second scene is about Rachel's sister, Donna, and in during that scene four days passes. Now the third scene is Tom moving in with Jenny and takes the whole day and night. In the fourth scene, we go back to Rachel and see her going to the theater. Now, from a reader's standpoint, Rachel went to the theater during Donna's scene. Otherwise, we've just jumped backwards in time, because Donna's scene plus Tom's scene have advanced the time by 5 days.

I put every scene on its own paper or card. I label the top of each scene with the viewpoint character's name. Or I use different colored cards--assigning a color to the viewpoint. Then I lay out my cards in parallel columns. Each column (or row--if you lay them out horizontally) corresponds to one character. I space each scene according to time. This way, as I look horizontally across the different viewpoint columns, I can see what is happening relative to another character. (Again, if you have parallel rows laid out horizontally, look at a vertical section to compare the events across the characters.) In this manner, I shift and push the scenes apart until on any given row (across all viewpoint timelines) there's only scene happening. Then I can start at the top of my multi-column spread and squeeze them into a single vertical line to tell my story.

With that, I would have ended up with my scenes in the order 1) Rachel. 2) Rachel at theater 3) Donna 4) Tom & Jenny.  Or, if these scenes are independent of the other character scenes, I could have gone with: 1 ) Rachel, 2) Tom & Jenny, 3) Rachel at theater and 4) Donna.  Or…1) Donna, 2) Rachel, 3) Tom & Jenny and 4) Rachel at theater. Etc. Having them on separate pieces make them easier to move.

While blocks of text can be easily moved about on the computer, I still prefer having it on something tangible where I can physically move it, step back and see the whole structure.  Sometimes I have twenty or more scenes (each with a paragraph synopsis) in a single line. On a computer screen, I find the constant scrolling and remembering what was where too distracting on really large projects. The human eye can flit up and down a long list much, much faster. However, I often type my scenes, print them out then cut them apart.

Any structuring method can be used to put a plot together in the first place or to study a flawed story plot. In the latter case, the methods reveal plot weaknesses, places that need reinforcing or replacing.