Category Archives: Story Preparation

What is meant by Save the Cat moment?

The Save the Cat Moment in Spider-Man: No Way Home.
The Save the Cat Moment in Spider-Man: No Way Home.

One of the best storytelling concepts in movies and novels, can be found in Blake Snyder’s book, Save the Cat. This concept highlights the importance of crafting a likable and relatable protagonist by featuring his or her humanity through selfless acts of kindness, and the like.

In other words, Blake Snyder’s Save the Cat moment is predicated on the idea that we are more likely to root for a protagonist who performs a selfless and/or heroic act, and does so early on in the story. The moment humanises the character and establishes a connection between readers or audiences, and the protagonist, from the get-go. To illustrate this, let’s explore the recent blockbuster, Spider-Man: No Way Home.

Peter Parker’s Character Arc

In the movie, Peter Parker, played by Tom Holland, grapples with the consequences of revealing his true identity to the world. As a result, his life and the lives of his aunt and friends become imperiled. Peter’s initial solution is to erase the world’s memory of his alter ego, Spider-Man, through a spell conjured up by Doctor Strange.

Save the Cat Moment through Action

But, it’s not just Peter’s dazzling powers and his endurance of the conflicts that beset him which endear us to him; it’s his humanity: Peter realises from the start that his actions have far-reaching consequences for those who know him as Spider-Man. In a moment of selflessness and empathy, he asks Doctor Strange, played by Benedict Cumberbatch, to cast a spell that will erase not only people’s memory of his identity but also their memory of their relationships with him. He wants his loved ones to be safe, even if it means they have to forget about him entirely.

This decision is Peter’s Save the Cat moment in the film. It’s an act of great sacrifice, a willingness to shoulder the emotional burden of being forgotten by those he holds most dear. It is a moment that foregrounds his responsibility, empathy, and the moral content of his character.

“The Save the Cat moment occurs early in the story and reveals the hero as someone who is compassionate and kind, and willing to sacrifice his or her desires and ambitions for the benefit of others.”

Audience Impact

As viewers, we are not only witnessing a superhero with incredible powers, but a young man who genuinely cares about others. This creates a powerful connection between him and the audience. We root for him not just because he can spring from skyscrapers or defeat terrifying foes, but also because we appreciate the moral quality of his choices, and empathise with his human struggles.

Conclusion

Spider-Man: No Way Home, then, exemplifies the power of the Save the Cat moment, a concept popularised by Blake Snyder in his book Save the Cat! It reminds us that in storytelling, it’s the moments of our shared humanity that truly captivate us, that truly resonates with us.

What is the save the cat moment in your screenplay or novel? Don’t have one? Revise your work to include one in your story—it is the key to creating a memorable and beloved protagonist.

Summary

The Save the Cat moment encapsulates Blake Synder’s advice of how to write a story protagonist who is likable and relatable.

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Setting: How to Write like a Cinematic Genius.

Masterful settings in Anna Karenina
Masterful settings in Anna Karenina

How important is the setting you choose for your story and characters? The short answer? Critical!

In cinema where locations come alive, as much as in novels, your choice of setting is a potent tool in supercharging your storytelling. To illustrate this, let’s draw inspiration from the brilliant location choices of Anna Karenina, All the Pretty Horses, and The Last Voyage of the Demeter as proof of how choosing the right setting can make or break your story.

Anna Karenina: Russia’s Snowy Embrace as a Character

In Anna Karenina, the brilliant Leo Tolstoy turns snowy Russia into a character as compelling as any protagonist. In this classic tale, a snowstorm isn’t just a backdrop. It is a dynamic force that shapes the characters’ choices and actions. The sensation of being inside this world, adds depth and realism to the story. As writers, we should learn to do no less.

All the Pretty Horses: The Southwestern Borderlands as a Plot Driver

In Cormac McCarthy’s All the Pretty Horses, the Southwestern borderlands setting is far from coincidental. It reflects the pivotal conflict of the story, where the disappearing cowboy way of life forces the protagonist on a journey into Mexico. The arid and desolate Southwest is not just a backdrop but a character in its own right, emphasising the intimate connection between setting and plot. As storytellers, we must recognise that the place we choose can be as crucial as any character in our narrative.

The Last Voyage of the Demeter: Tempests and Confined spaces

The Last Voyage of the Demeter is a tale that emerges out of the intricate threads of Count Dracula’s legend. The story’s significance lies not only in the eerie confines of the doomed ship but also in the relentless force of the storm that envelopes it. As the Demeter sails from Varna to Whitby, the tempest mirrors the mounting dread of the crew, accentuating the horror that lurks in the cargo hold below. The setting, a claustrophobic ship with dwindling resources on a tempestuous sea, becomes a pressure cooker of dread and paranoia. The link between setting and weather in this tale showcases how, when skillfully exploited, a surrounding can become a character in itself, breathing life into the story, shaping the characters‘ actions and emotions, and influencing the tone.

“Respect the setting and weather as you do the characters in your story. Your tales will be the more vivid for it!”

As writers, we should always ask which setting(s) will have the most impact on our story. If the answer is: “I’m not sure”, or, “very little”, it is be time to reassess. The characters in Anna Karenina, All the Pretty Horses, and The Last Voyage of the Demeter, don’t merely exist in their surroundings, they are an organic part of them.

Summary

Setting and weather are not just backdrops; they are active participants in the story. Embrace both, let them shape your characters and plot, and watch as your stories roar to life.

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Symbols – your secret power

Symbols in The Joker
Symbols in The Joker

What are symbols, and how can we use them to prolong longevity, add resonance and depth to our stories?

In his book, Man and his Symbols the renowned psychologist, Carl Gustav Jung wrote: ‘What we call a symbol is a term, a name, or even a picture that may be familiar in daily life, yet that possesses specific connotations in addition to its conventional and obvious meaning. It implies something vague, unknown, or hidden from us. A word or image stripped of its connotative aspect is a mere sign—it denotes or points to an object or event that has no added significance than its function—such as a chair, a table, and the like.” 

The strength of symbols, especially symbols that emerge from the unconscious to manifest as Archetypes, is that they endure. To put it in another way, as primordial remnants bubble up from the human unconscious, they are expressed by the conscious mind as universally applicable archetypal symbols. They do so by cleaving to specific actions, events and objects in myths and stories.

“Symbols, when rendered adroitly, promote the longevity of any story.”

To generate symbols in your own tales, start with story and character: 1. Ask, what is the genre of your story? 2. What is the key idea, theme, and moral premise of your story? 3. What goals and struggles are your characters engaged in?

The answers to these questions will direct you to the sorts of symbols you need to use. A note of caution here. Your symbols shouldn’t attract attention to themselves—they shouldn’t be too obvious. They need to grow on us as vessels of meaning. They also need to be specific and to generate emotion. The key here is to work out how they relate to the characters and to each other: Are these symbols actual objects that would feature effortlessly in the characters’ everyday lives? Again, subtlety is key.

Here’s how Todd Phillip uses character symbols in his film, The Joker:

The film opens with Arthur Fleck applying his clown make-up. We don’t immediately ascribe symbolic significance to this. Arthur is merely preparing to do his job as a clown. But as the story progresses the clown imagery deepens in meaning, driven by story questions: Why is it that after Arthur loses his job, he continues to wear his clown make-up? Is it that it offers him an escape from his dreary reality? Does it have deeper psychological connotations—indicate his rejecting his identity due to some past trauma that makes him wish that he was someone else?

“Well crafted symbols are universal and eternal.”

The figure of the clown now comes to symbolise the breakdown of social structures in Gotham—the conflict between the rulers and the ruled. The mob dons clown dress and rises up against the authorities, with the Joker, as inspiration.  A clown suit and mask are no longer symbols of fun and laughter—the Joker has become the symbol of something dark and dangerous—the symbol of chaos.

Symbolism can also emerge from setting, providing context, atmosphere and bolstering the theme. In The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, Mordor, as opposed to the idyllic life of the Shire, is shown to be a place of hellfire and horror—the entire landscape is symbolic of the evil represented by Sauron. 

And of course, the rings themselves are highly symbolic, with the last ring being especially significant. Having been forged by Sauron on Mount Doom it represents pure evil. But the ring also symbolises desire and greed. We see this clearly in Bilbo and Gollum’s desire to posses it.

The ring also symbolises temptation. Even honourable characters such as Gandalf and Boromir are tempted by its beguiling power. This temptation gains in resonance by reminding us of the original temptation in the garden of Eden, where Adam and Eve disobeyed God and ate from the apple of good and evil.

When deploying symbols remember to show rather than tell, to point them towards your key ideas and themes, to select symbols that give rise to emotion, and to avoid being heavy-handed in their use.

Summary

Use symbols to add resonance, meaning and depth to your stories.

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Action-reaction: How to write air-tight scenes.

Action-reaction in Traffic.
Action-reaction in Traffic.

A sure fire way to create momentum in your story is by linking scenes together, and to do it often. Specifically, to end a scene with a hook of some sort—say with an action, question, or expectation that is fully, or partially fulfilled in the next.

In Advanced Screenwriting, Linda Seger labels this linking mechanism between scenes as action-reaction. She provides the following examples:

In the film, Traffic, Salazar asks Francisco to provide information about the men who present a threat. The scene ends with Francisco writing down a list of names. The very next scene shows Javier and Manolo getting to the men on the list. The link between those two narrative blocks is airtight and preserves momentum.

In a later scene Javier promises Anna that he’ll find her husband. In the very next scene, he does. And yet later, Francisco is shot, though he doesn’t know who shot him. In the next scene we see an unfamiliar man packing up a rifle. The implication is that he is the one who shot Francisco.

“Action-reaction scenes are airtight. They preserve story pressure.”

Here is an example from the same film where the flow is interrupted because a scene ends on a static note rather than one which links it to the next scene. In this scene Robert’s wife and daughter congratulate him on his being chosen as the new drug czar. His daughter says: “It’s great daddy. It’s just amazing, that’s all.” The scene ends on a statement, rather than a question, intention or demand, which interrupts the momentum.

Transitions can also be a little tricky, especially when an expected ending to an episode is omitted. At one point Gordon says: We have a warrant to search your house, Mrs. Ayala.” The scene ends on the expectation of a search and perhaps the finding of incriminating evidence. Instead, there is a hard break to the story in Mexico. Seger suggests that although the writer need not have necessarily followed up with a scene showing the search of the house, a follow-up scene of some sort that dealt with the warrant more directly ought to have been included. Although the scene in Mexico is a consequence, it feels a little dramatically disconnected—we are left with the sense of a missing reaction scene.

Summary

Action-reaction scenes avoid a slackening in momentum, especially in story beats where large changes in narrative time and space occur.

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Fascinating characters are a little paradoxical

Paradoxical characters in A Fish Called Wanda.
Paradoxical characters in A Fish Called Wanda.

Given the plethora of books, TV series, and films available nowadays, there is a danger that stories and the characters that inhabit them become stale and repetitive—poorly disguised imitations of themselves. It’s therefore important that we find a way to make them fascinating and colourful to avoid turning them into mere cliches.

One way to make a character more fascinating is to inject paradoxical elements into his or her personality. In Creating Unforgettable Characters, Linda Seger, quotes the novelist Leonard Tourney on the subject: Tourney writes “Characters are more interesting if they are made of mixed stuff, if they contain warring elements. To create these warring elements, you begin by establishing one, then asking, ‘Given this element, what elements are there in the same person that would create in that person a kind of conflict?” A ruthless hit man who donates all his money to a foundation for war veterans is an example.

“Paradoxical characters make for fascinating stories.”

But an all-out war between traits, however, is not the only way to create paradoxes—your character/s could merely display an unexpected conjunction of personality tendencies, habits, hobbies, or interests:

In A Fish Called Wanda, Otto is presented as nervous, dumb and jealous, yet he meditates and reads Nietzsche. This is surprising, which makes the character instantly more fascinating.

In Good Will Hunting, Matt Damon’s character, Will, recently paroled from jail and now a janitor at M.I.T, solves a difficult math problem posted on a blackboard that has stumped everyone else. Although this is not necessary a display of contrary traits, it does make us wonder why such a smart man ended up in jail and now works as a janitor.

To quote Seger, “Human nature being what it is, a character is always more than just a set of consistencies. People are illogical and unpredictable. They do things that surprise us, startle us, change all of our preconceived ideas about them.”

As writers we should seek to do no less.

Summary

Characters who display paradoxical or unexpected traits, traits that have been skillfully selected, make for fascinating stories.

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Show Don’t Tell – in a Nutshell

Show don’t tell. What do you see?
Show don’t tell. What do you see?

Most stories comprise of both telling and showing. If telling explains, simplifies and summarises by compressing time and space, showing reveals and dramatises, allowing readers or audiences to piece things together for themselves. Let’s look at five ways, with examples, of how to show not tell:

1. Narration

Sometimes a writer compresses actions and events through narration to speed up a story. Even so, catapulting the reader into the scene by showing rather than telling, even in narration, can increase reader involvement.

Telling: The boy felt terror when he heard his uncle, cane in hand no doubt, approaching his room. He always came to his room with his cane. The boy’s tiny stomach contracted into an even tighter knot and his fear grew.

Showing: The boy heard his uncle’s footsteps grow louder. He squeezed his eyes shut. The cane swooshed through the air, each practice stroke sounding closer. He pressed his palms against his ears, and, shivering, counted back from ten.

2. Dialogue

Dialogue, especially subtext dialogue, can reveal a layer beneath the literal meaning of the words.

Telling: “You thought I wouldn’t notice, Tommy? The number of coins in the orange pot on the top shelf? The pot I thought you couldn’t reach? You think I’m stupid? You thieving, ungrateful brat.”

Showing: “Get a load of this, Tommy. Ferguson caught his nephew stealing from his wallet. Thrashed him real bad. Should’ve cut his hand off, I says. Boys shouldn’t steal. Anyways, fetch that orange pot from the kitchen cupboard, will you? On the top shelf. The one with the money you pretend not to know is there.”

3. Setting

A setting that uses vivid sensory details can help the writer to show not tell by having the characters, hence the reader, experience the environment through the senses more directly.

Telling: The angry, ominous Arcus clouds were full of lightning. A terrifying storm was brewing. He had never feared storms before. But he feared this one. He feared he would not survive—unless he could tie the loose sails back on the mast before the storm hit.

Showing: The boat bucked under his feet and lightning lit up the Arcus clouds. Loose sails hissed and flapped savagely above him like wounded behemoths. He’d have to secure them to the mast immediately or die trying.

“Show don’t tell is the indispensable technique of accomplished writing.”

4. Use Details – but not to many

Don’t be too ornate or over-descriptive. Less is more.

Too ornate: He was heavy-set, with thick eyebrows and the forehead of a Neanderthal, muscles bulging with the threat of deadly violence, and a voice as gruff as a wheel-less barrow grating on cold grey concrete.

More apt (especially for a screenplay): He looked and sounded like a concrete truck churning over a full load.

5. Showing by describing action

Telling slows your story down. Yet, you still need to introduce characters, environments, and provide background information. So how to do it? Through action that shows while characterising or creating tension.

If you need to introduce a character who has to get from A to B on a train, instead of having him while away the time by describing the passengers and the thoughts this triggers, build tension by having him notice someone bothering another passenger through small actions—sniffing her hair, whispering in her ear, squeezing up against her, and the like. The scene will get you from A to B in no time while maintaining momentum.

Summary

Although telling is necessary in order to cover the large narrative terrain of a story, showing involves the reader or audience in a more direct way.

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Describing characters and Action

Describing characters and actions in GI JANE.
Describing characters and actions in GI JANE

In screenwriting, where economy of space is at a premium, it is important to write action and character descriptions crisply and effectively. Although this article applies mainly to screenwriters, novelists ought to take some of these suggestions to heart too.

In describing characters or incidents in the action block: a) Write in the present tense: the story is unfolding right in front of you after all. b) Be concise: Describe only what is essential to the character and the story. Limit your descriptions to three or four lines, or less. c) Cut to the chase—describe only the essence of an action or incident. d) Have every word count. Use strong nouns and verbs. Don’t bolster weak words with adverbs and adjectives—choose better verbs and nouns.

In his book Story Robert McKee implores us to write using only apt nouns and verbs that capture the essence of character and action. The words should immediately paint vivid pictures in the minds of the readers.

In GI JANE the character who propels the protagonist on her mission, a US senator, is described in this way:

‘DEHAVEN is a tough-hided old Southern-belle, Scarlett O’Hara at 60. In her arsenal she carries conversational hand-grenades — and she’s apt to pull a pin at the slightest whim.’

“Be concise and impactful in describing characters and action. Make every word count.”

This description not only imparts information about Dehaven, it conveys her attitude and general demeanour, too. Not bad for two sentences.

Sometimes even the shortest of descriptions will capture the essence of the character:

‘Slimy Piet is short, rough, with the hygiene of an army privy on a hot day.’

Notice how the use of a figure of speech makes us wrinkle our nose. Figures of speech, used as vehicles of exaggeration or comparison, are powerful conveyers of the writer’s attitude towards a character. They are communicators of atmosphere, attitude and detail. Use them sparingly, but do use them.

In writing action, too, we should also use every opportunity to characterise, and convey ‘posture’ and demeanour. Never waste the opportunity to pack as much as possible into a verb or noun: Never write ‘walk’ when you can write ‘saunter, stroll, meander, mosey, and wander. Or if more energy is required: stride, march, storm, dash, streak, and the like. Each of these words says much, and does it economically.

As an exercise unearth one of your neglected stories. Pour over each character description and action block and implement some of the suggestions on offer here.

Summary

Be concise, precise, and impactful in describing characters and actions. Your writing will be the better for it.

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The explanatory power of need in stories.

In the film Tootsie Michael Dorsey‘s ‘need” manifests in his actions.

What is the difference between a character’s want and need?

In her book, Advanced Screenwriting, Linda Seger explains that one’s ‘want’ is related to the outer goal in the story—what the character thinks s/he has to achieve in order to solve a problem: get the girl, or the job, and the like. One’s ‘need’, however, is typically hidden from the character. It is revealed only late in the developmental arc as a result of the characters having learnt a series of lessons about themselves, and the world, through life’s hard knocks. 

We as writers, however, have to know how to work with this hidden need on behalf of our characters. We have to know how to work with the subtext—with what is suppressed, left unsaid, with emotions of guilt, shame or regret. These are the generators of depth and resonance in our stories. Without them we have only plot. With them we have in-depth characters whose psychological motivation rings true.

“Without an acknowledgement of need, characters are unable to complete their character arcs and achieve their story goals.”

Tootsie’s Michael Dorsey, for example, does not, at first, realise that he needs to be less difficult, more sensitive to others in order to achieve his outer goals as an actor. He does not realise that his insistence on ‘perfection’, his obsessive disagreeableness and fussiness stems from his own insecurities. It is only when he adopts the disguise of a woman in order to procure a television soapie role, a disguise so convincing that he is subjected to the sort of insensitivity and sexism he has inflicted on others, that he realises that his need is to be a better man. It is only then that Michael can accomplish his external goals—his desire for Julie, his need for work, his desire to maintain his friendship with Sandy. The accomplished writer understands this about his character(s) and implements this knowledge. It is a skill well worth emulating.

Summary

A character’s acknowledgment of ‘need’ comes late in the story and results in an adjustment of the story goal.

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Turning point versus twist — what’s the difference?

The twist in The Sixth Sense
The twist in The Sixth Sense

Stories depend on twists and turns to deliver their content in an engaging way. But what’s the difference between a turning point and a twist? Let’s look into it.

In her book Advanced Screenwriting Linda Seeger gives us six attributes that define a turning point: 1. Turns the action in a new direction. 2. Ushers us into a new arena and a new focus for the action. 3. The protagonist makes a new decision or commitment . 4. Raises the central question again. 5. Ups the stakes. 6. Propels the story into the next act.

Seger states that the turning point is not a surprise although how it is executed may be. That’s because the turning point has been prepared for—through the inciting incident for example, or other foreshadowing elements.

In Dead Poet’s Society the boys going to the cave has been prepared for by earlier scenes: The boys discover John Keating’s Year Book and ask him about it. Keating mentions that the cave was where the dead poet’s society used to meet. This sets up the context for Act II and the resulting conflict between creativity versus conformity, the theme of the story, that is to be unleashed. The cave scene, then, leads the story in a new but not unexpected direction.

“A turning point steers the story in a new direction, usually prepared for earlier. A twists uncovers a gut-wrenching emotion through exposing a secret that has the penny drop.”

The twist by contrast differs from the turning point in these ways: Twists are almost always rooted in secrets. Specifically, the twist is an action or event which reveals that things are not what everyone thought them to be. It is the moment when the penny drops—the moment in The Sixth Sense, when Malcolm Crowe realises that he is dead, the moment when a puzzle is suddenly solved as in Chinatown when Evelyn Mulvaney gives up of her shameful secret that Katherine Cross is both her daughter and her sister as a result of her father’s incestuous acts with her. Her shocking revelation explains Evelyn’s obfuscating behaviour, her seeming lies, her stutter upon the mention of the word ‘father’, and the like.

Here’s what you need to know about writing secrets and have them drive your twists: 1. What is the purpose of the secret? 2. Whose secret is it? 3. Who is unaware of the secret? 4. When should the secret be revealed? 5. To whom is the secret first revealed, and why?

Typically, then, the twist may occur near a turning point in a story, but it’s most important differentiation from the turning point is that it delivers a gut-wrenching emotion, couched in past secrets, that sheds light upon hitherto unexplained action.

Summary

Turning points steer the action in new directions prepared for earlier. Twists expose secrets and create powerful emotions through surprise.

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Why have our stories grown stale?

Banish the stale! Follow Chinatown’s example.
Banish the stale. Follow Chinatown’s example.

Much of our viewing consumption, whether at the cinema or through streaming services, has grown stale. There is a repetitiveness to the story structure, genre, theme, and the subliminal messaging. Superhero stories predominate, and what’s worse, the sequel-generating machine has diminished the spark that may have existed in the original. The disconnected and visually numbing Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania, is a case in point.

What’s the reason for this? I’d venture a lack of originality and character authenticity which the presence of the brand alone can’t compensate for. Then there’s the easy access to tons of tv series and films on streaming services which has educated audiences about the tricks that go into a story. Formulas are exposed for being just that—formulas. Add the avalanche of cardboard characters and limp story lines and you get the picture.

So, what’s the remedy? My instinct is to go back to creating strong, authentic characters driven by credible goals, hopes and ambitions—characters who harbour wounds and secrets, and who are immersed in situations, albeit fantastical on occasion, that we find believable. 

“We should banish what is stale in our stories by getting back to the basics, by concentrating on originality and verisimilitude.”

One of the things that makes Chinatown a great story is the power of the wounds and secrets that Evelyn Malwray harbours. These drive the entire story—wounds and secrets whose consequences affect the characters, generate subtext, and create story questions. And what a staggering reveal late in the story when Evelyn finally comes clean to Jake Gittes!

Citizen Kane too is an enduring classic in no small part because Kane has a painful secret that the audience is dying to know. Indeed the whole film is predicated upon unraveling the meaning of the word ‘Rosebud’ uttered by Kane on his deathbed. The theme that is encoded in that word—that the value of family outweighs material wealth and fame, also lends the story a transcendent meaning that elevates it and keeps it resonant and fresh. If only we could inject such verisimilitude into the current parade of stories.

Summary

Many stories have fallen prey to stale, repetitive formulas, plots, and shallow characters swimming in the sludge of endless franchises of dubious worth.

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