THE SHAPE OF A STORY

by Beth Bernobich
(c) April 2001

A story needs both shape and motion.

Motion, for me, is the story's forward progress, whether in terms of miles traveled or souls changed. Shape is a more elusive quality.

So what is shape? It's the nature of the characters and their goals. It's the scope of events and the world. It's how complicated the plot becomes. How fast it moves and how far the characters travel, both internally and through their world. It's the height and distance the plot arcs make. And it's the pattern all the threads make once you wind them together.

Finding the Shape.

Sometimes shape comes with the idea or the characters. You get that first vision of a character with a situation, and plot soon combines with theme and motion to create a story that breathes with life and dimension.

Sometimes shape eludes us. You might have strong characters. Or a sparkly world. Or a series of compelling scenes and transformations. But with all that, the plot itself sometimes rebels against running in strong channels, and instead spreads out into a mudflat.

You stare at this static mess and sigh. You jot down copious notes. Often the story needs only time and quiet contemplation for shape to gel. Here are some elements to consider while the story is brewing.

First we need to identify the main characters, their initial situation, and their goals. Pick several goals for each main character, and be sure to add one or two the characters can't or won't admit to. A goal might reflect the theme, but at this stage, it's too easy to let theme overshadow the story.

The goals also need to intersect, sometimes in helpful ways and sometimes in conflict. Here is where characters take on motion and plot. Shape determines how the goals intersect and how they affect the characters. A quiet story of two lovers might have everyday conflicts woven into a subtle pattern. One of quests and kings might have bold plots stripes overlaying a complex background.

The important point is to have the goals tie into concrete events in the story. One approach is to have a character lose something very important — a treasured friend, their life's work, or their self-image. The story can simply be their attempt to recover the lost item. A more textured story might have the character realize that what they lost wasn't the important thing. That it was something deeper.

Soon the story takes on shadows and lines and edges. We might have a tentative outline or list of events that should take place. (Don't worry, we can revise everything, including the notes.) Now to start defining the story's shape from its contents.

Beginnings, Middles, and Ends.

A few rambling ideas on the shape of different sections. These are generalizations, and are different from the shape of a story.

Beginnings are like picking up the first threads of yarn for weaving. One or two strong colors to introduce the plot, with a pattern that allows the reader to discover the world as they learn about the characters. Complementary colors and patterns start to emerge, arcs take off, and and the story is launched.

Middles at first appear to have a tangled shape. All the main plot arcs are leaping about, a few new secondary threads have come into view, and the characters are in full motion. Middles don't exist alone, however. They have to spring from beginnings.

Ending are when the losses are recovered, in unexpected ways. The arcs come to a rest, and the threads tie together. Ending hint of beginnings, and of the characters' future, but the telling is over.

Changing Shapes.

So you find a shape, you write a novel, and you read the first draft.

You might discover that your original idea works, and even if the draft needs work, the overall shape and motion of the story are what you envisioned.

Or you see problems. Gaps in the story, pacing difficulties, characters who wander aimlessly instead of growing. Some of these problems are errors in execution, and not the story itself. Sometimes the complex shape you envisioned has turned out to be complicated and confusing. You jot down notes, and you re-dream the shape. And then you revise.

But that's another essay.§