Story
A story is a paradigm containing elements of all humanity and history. Where do you start, where do you end? Ernest Hemingway's "The Sun Also Rises" begins with what was initially chapter four. That's rather common. Often you write a lot of stuff until you get to that 'click' and the story kicks in. Fitzgerald's "The Great Gatsby" all takes place over a summer, but much of the story is contained in what Hollywood executives lamentably refer to as the "Back Story" -- the history of a character, the background to the narrative. "Tristam Shandy" starts in the womb.
Where does a story end? You must ultimately become aware of false endings. But you need not be concerned about any of that, at least when you're starting.
One of the most effective writing exercises I know took place in a workshop on Dramatic Writing. The challenge was to take the premise of a man finding out he has a terminal illness and dramatize it. To a person, each writer created some version of the man waking up, having breakfast perhaps, setting off from home. He gets to the clinic or doctor's office and maybe has some exchange with the receptionist or nurse. Finally, the doctor comes in and after some prelude, delivers the bad news.
The most effective way of presenting that dilemma might simply be to bring the lights up on the patient sitting on the examining table, doctor in white coat, and the patient says: "How long have I got?"
With that one visual image and that single question, the relationship as well as the dilemma have been pretty well established. It's a good practice, at least for dramatic purposes, to come in on a scene as late as possible. That's almost always a good idea in screenwriting. You don't want to take a lot of time peeling the orange, you want to get to where the juice is.
Another question you need to ask yourself in threading a narrative is whether or not you are on story. You might write some beautiful and compelling things, but if you're sacrificing your story because of them, you'll need to perform surgery. There are some things you can get from revealing a character you might pay off in your story later. Usually, interesting isn't good enough. You need to keep within the bounds of your structure.
In writing, any premise is valid. Kafka can have a character wake up as an insect -- Ionesco can have the clock strike thirteen. You have to let the audience/reader know the rules and conventions of the world you are unveiling. At some point, and it is usually sooner rather than later, the reader will decide whether he or she is going to take the ride. It's up to you to keep them engaged.
Ever see "The Graduate", the classic sixties film with Dustin Hoffman and Ann Bancroft? It was adapted by a very funny book by Charles Webb. It's a taut book and the adaptation is nearly word for word. The screenwriters were canny enough not to mess with it much. Perhaps the funniest part of the book is when the hero, Benjamin Braddock, goes up north (to Big Sur, I think) to fight a forest fire. It's a hilarious account that never made it into the movie. The screenwriters were absolutely right to leave it out. It had nothing to do with the story being fueled, the love triangle involving Benjamin, Mrs. Robinson and daughter Elaine. It would have been good for laughs but it was off story.
Most successful dramatic adaptations are from short books and novellas. Epic novels are often more about language and atmosphere than about story. William Faulkner once said that a writer must kill all his (her) darlings. Get rid of those precious things that are simply imposed and don't fit naturally. This is especially true in dramatic form and structure. You can take some side roads but they had better lead back to the highway. That is your thread, the Lifeblood of your story. Know when to slacken it a little and know when to pull it tight but whatever you do, don't let go of it.
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