Good storytelling is about having at least a somewhat conscious relationship to your ideal reader. It is about understanding the most effective order of events. Hold the story loosely, and be willing to write and rewrite. Tell the story in the most compelling way possible.
The process of storytelling is akin to a Polaroid coming into focus, or an alien spacecraft moving toward planet Earth — as it approaches, it sees the Earth in greater and greater detail. You began with an idea, then you imagined the world, wrote an outline, and finally bashed out a first draft. Now that you have “channeled” that initial story, step back and become curious about the most effective way to tell it.
Imagine for a moment that you are the typical ruthless, yet openhearted reader. Your reader comes to the book with expectations. They want to be taken on a journey, to be under the spell of the storyteller. In a way, your reader wishes to be seduced.
The accomplished storyteller approaches story as if it were a seduction.
They never force their will. They are sensitive to their readers, while at the same time never losing focus, always moving toward their objective.
How is this accomplished? By having a grounding in basic technique, while staying open to your Source, to that primal impulse that spoke to you in the first place.
Basic technique, as far as I’m concerned, really just means maintaining an ongoing curiosity about structure, i.e., tracking the “want” through the plot points. As you grow as a writer, you discover that your story is never entirely what you thought it would be. By being open to the structure questions, you can develop over time. You can build an abiding relationship to the infinite complexities of your human condition. By being open, you can become surprised at the unpredictability of human behavior. These discoveries can be frightening and thrilling all at once. Story structure is not a formula. Story structure can hold all of the complexities of the human condition.
It is your job as a writer to continue to be curious about your own humanity. In moments of crisis or doubt, ask yourself, “Where does this experience exist for my characters?” Don’t allow yourself to become swallowed up by guilt, fear, or neurosis. Hold your stories loosely enough that your character’s choices can surprise you. When you do this, you are often led to deep truths you didn’t even know you were seeking.
Learn more about marrying the wildness of your imagination to the rigor of structure in The 90-Day Novel, or The 90-Day Memoir.
