Light in Dingy Corners
Just finished “Story” by Robert McKee today. It’s an important book on an important topic. To McKee’s credit — he wrote a book about screenwriting that is actually not about screenwriting. Telling grand stories makes us human, while giving the ability to access the divine. This book does a couple of things for the reader.
Breaks down the structure for pretty much every story ever told.
At least all of the good ones.
This book ruins you for movies. Because of this content (and the book’s recent offshoot for novelists and editors by Shawn Coyne), I now tear into every movie, TV Show, or novel I consume with this critical eye.
- What is the inciting incident? (Because there must always be an inciting incident.)
- How does this get progressively complicated?
- Is there a “things will never be the same” crisis moment?
- What results from the protagonist’s choice and does it lead to a proper climax?
- Does this story resolve satisfactorily.
I look for these elements in every story I read or watch (and I read and watch a lot of stories). Series 5 of the BBC Scotland show “Shetland” is an outstanding example of story that follows these elements with poetry and grace (finished that yesterday, as well). So while it is possible for this information to make you manic enough about stories to drive your significant other a little crazy sometimes, it also gives the framework for finding deep satisfaction in a well-told story — and to know exactly why it was satisfying.
Confirms that story is our window to reality.
It’s why stories are important. Therefore, I watch and read great stories without guilt. Every well-told story helps us to see.
I was having a conversation with a close friend and colleague about stories earlier this week. We came to this conclusion:
Story is the at the heart of what it means to be human.
It’s also at the heart of what it means to be a disciple.
Learn to tell grand stories — and learn to listen well to the stories of others.