My first attempt
When I first decided to write a novel, I figured I could just see where the story wanted to go as I wrote it. I had a setting, a couple characters, and a vague idea of what might happen in the first few chapters. An even vaguer idea of what might happen later on.
The first chapter was easy. The ideas were fresh in my mind and I was enthusiastic about my concept, short-sighted as it was. I furiously typed the opening scene and let the story write itself. What the characters said, how they behaved and interacted with one another, the vivid descriptions of my outrageously underthought setting. It all came so easily. Even into the second chapter, though, this is where I started to slow down. I couldn’t just keep blindly writing. There had to be some forethought. At least enough to introduce a character that would return later in the story, and maybe to start crafting an actual narrative.
So, after a bit of effort, chapter two worked out all right. I knew there was still work to be done but I had a first draft and that was good enough for the time being.
Then, chapter 3.
The end of my first foray into novel writing. It reminded me of the “difficult second album” problem. An artist produces a perfect first album, gets a record deal, and is then expected to keep producing content of the same caliber. Only, they spent a long time revising and honing the songs of the first album, iterating them to the point where they couldn’t possibly be any better than they are. And so, producing a whole new album of the same quality in a much more restricted time frame becomes, well…
The realisation of scale and the recognition of my blindly meandering storytelling came crashing into reality like an “aha” moment. Only it was more like a resigned “ah…”
I was dejected. Didn’t know how to proceed with the story and the more I thought about it, the more holes I poked in the flimsy fabric of the tapestry I had tried so rashly to weave.
For months, I didn’t even think about it. Just chalked it up as one more thing I’d started and would never finish. Oh, there were a few times when I’d idly consider sitting down in front of it again and really trying to make something out of it but my own self-doubt and lack of commitment stopped me from even attempting it.
A framework for storycraft
I came across the story circle in a short Skillshare video. I had taken it upon myself to seek the help of a professional. The presenter talked through how each stage was supposed to be approached and how they fit together as a whole. Granted, it’s a framework generally used for screenwriting, but the way I see it, it could be used for any type of story, long-form or short, screen or page.
It seemed simple enough.
Although, at first I found it pretty difficult to conceive my story in full. If I was being honest with myself, I didn’t know what kind of story I wanted to tell. What was in it for my characters? Was there a point I wanted to make?
‘Cause there has to be a point, right? Otherwise, what’s the point?
I think what I struggled with most was the idea that my story had to have some clearly intentional commentary on modern society or that it needed to be a scathing indictment of something or other. All the best sci-fi had something to say about life in the present day, only through the lens of extrapolation or hyperbole, or parody.
It wasn’t until I asked myself: Can’t I just write a fun adventure that doesn’t really concern itself with trying to mean something?
A story can be just a story. It doesn’t have to be a masterpiece.
Right?
I’m never going to be Asimov or Clarke, so I should stop trying to be. And, more importantly, I need to accept that just because what I write isn’t as good as these lofty sci-fi authors, doesn’t mean it’s not valid. I’m never going to be those authors because I’m me. I have my own voice and my own style, and…
It’s valid.
I’m sure this is something that every writer has battled with, to some degree, and overcome, probably around the start of their writing careers. It has genuinely taken me a long time to come to terms with it. That being said, I still sometimes find it difficult because I think I have a deficiency in the kind of iconoclastic view toward whatever field/genre/discipline that allows people to judge themselves on their own merit rather than against the pre-established “greats” of their respective art.
Anyway.
Once I accepted that I can just write for myself, and it doesn’t have to be my magnum opus, I found myself with renewed inspiration and pondering ideas for what these characters, En and Cora, could get up to. What would be interesting situations for them to get into, or out of?
Eventually, I had an idea. Then I thought about that idea, and it didn’t quite fit with what I had already written. But, I liked a lot of what I already had, so maybe I could adapt it. It was only two chapters, really, so it shouldn’t be that hard.
Back to the story circle.
Credit: StudioBinder/Dan Harmon
So, I had characters, a setting, an idea for a story, and, now, I had a framework for creating the outline of the story. A skeleton that I could then flesh out.
Now, when I say I had an idea, I mean I had a vague notion of some shady business that my characters could stumble into and become embroiled in. I did not have anything resembling an idea of a plot.
It wasn’t until my partner and I were driving through the countryside of central France that, together, we spitballed, workshopped, and brainstormed our way to an outline. And by “outline” I mean an event for each of the steps on the story circle framework.
For me, the story I wanted to tell didn’t follow the circle exactly. It got to a point where order was about to be restored and it was thrown back a few degrees into chaos again. Then the remainder tied itself up in a tidy, somewhat sensical knot, while still leaving me with an ending that I was proud of and that I thought would make an enjoyable read.
Would I recommend the story circle?
Sure.
I mean, if you are looking for a simple structure that you can use to fill in the blanks of your story and have it make sense as a series of events, unfortunate or not, then yeah, absolutely.
I think it’s a really useful tool, and starting point, for creating the broad strokes of your story. It’s easy to understand and there are loads of examples out there of how to use it.
What I don’t think it should be used for is creating cookie-cutter story blocks to be churned out time and time again. At least, not in terms of books. This type of rigid structure works really well for, say, a serial TV comedy show or even something like the monster/alien/mystery-of-the-week format.
And, I guess, that’s what it’s intended to be.
But.
Personally, I found it incredibly useful for getting my ducks in a row, so to speak. It helped me to think about the story as a whole, what the journey is going to be, and what events are going to herald the changes in states of play for the characters as the story progresses.
The efficacy of approaching a project this size in a structured way can’t be understated. I’ve effectively only just started and already I feel like I have a much more solid idea of how to make steady, consistent progress.
It’s also worth mentioning that there are a myriad of frameworks for storytelling out there. The story circle is just the one I came across at the right time.
One of the biggest mistakes I’ve been making all this time is thinking that I have to create in a bubble, so that everything, everything is borne of my singular creativity.
It’s lonely, and boring, and unsustainable.
We have to take inspiration from the things we love because they make us who we are. We have to make use of frameworks other people have created to make something easier because it makes creating art more accessible to us.
And finally, we have to be gentle with our own egos because, sometimes, they can be fragile, and all it really takes to derail a creative endeavor is a few choice words of deprecation.
What frameworks/tools have you used to better structure your writing?
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