The Story Solution. Eric Edson

      Most people work pretty hard avoiding change. Some of us even fear changing the really lousy parts of life. But then we get to go to the movies.

      At the cinema we cut loose and enjoy change. With zero personal risk, we insist on it. One major reason why everybody loves the movies so much is that the language of film is a language of constant change.

      Skilled screenwriters hook an audience through identification with the hero, then hold them in thrall by manipulating the story to provide a relentless flow of transformative events.

      Whether a movie comes on big and loud or small and whispery, an audience expects each hero to end up someplace very different from the home ground where the story began.

      At the start of Forrest Gump, Forrest (Tom Hanks) is a slow-witted handicapped kid who gets bullied all the time. He hasn’t got a snowball’s chance of ever amounting to anything. By the end of the movie he’s a famous self-made millionaire tycoon war hero, as well as a wise, loving husband and father. Change.

      At the start of Bridget Jones’ Diary, Bridget is a low-level office drone lacking in self-worth, romantically attracted to cads, and unable to find any man willing to marry her. By the end she’s a self-possessed, nationally renowned TV newswoman in love with, and loved by, a wonderful and wealthy barrister. Bridget and her world have changed completely.

      The only powerful piece of dramatic writing I can remember that’s about a lack of change is Samuel Beckett’s classic stage play Waiting for Godot. And it’s revealing to note that even though Godot was made into a film, I don’t know two people who have ever actually seen the movie version. No change.

      Cumulative story transformation is built from a series of smaller changes that take place step by step throughout the whole story. An audience will only remain emotionally involved in a movie if they experience units of change at regular intervals.

      And here’s the kicker: the number of smaller changes needed for any film story to succeed dramatically is both quantifiable and constant.

      The function of change as the central driving dramatic force in all movie plots is not random. The size and purpose of story events required for each unit of change to work well is not random either. You can, in fact, predict exactly the number and degree of story change bumps needed, and you can time almost to the minute when those bumps should appear.

      Soon I will show you the exact number of “change units” needed for every feature film. This yardstick is so precise you will always know in advance whether or not your script will work emotionally for an audience.

      These units of change are Hero Goal Sequences_®.

      Every successful motion picture story you’ve ever enjoyed can be broken down this way. Once you learn to identify these units you then have a tool to build your own gripping, effective screenplays. No more guess work. You can instead know exactly how to shape a script for the maximum dramatic punch.

      I realize there are lots of people who want to conceive of the creative writing process as an eternally unfathomable thing. These good souls will naturally resist any practical analysis of story “pieces” for fear their creative spark will somehow be extinguished.

      But compare the idea of 23 Hero Goal Sequences_® to the progressive chapters in a book. Each passing chapter lays the groundwork for the next. They link and build on each other.

      The mere concept of an organizing tool called “chapters” does not in any way inhibit or limit what the book can be about, nor does it diminish its power, its originality, or its artistic achievement.

      A symphony usually requires a series of prescribed movements. The movements come in an expected order, and these parts, too, build on each other. This organizational concept has served composers very well for centuries.

      So before jumping to any conclusions about where this book is leading, ponder Mozart. Or Dickens.

      We will consider in later chapters the exact use of Goal Sequences for designing strong stories. But for now, simply keep in mind that planning dramatic change effectively is an essential component of great screenwriting.

      THE NEED FOR HIGH STAKES

      High stakes motivate any hero to pursue big change.

      Consider, if you will, a friendly Friday night card game you’ve got going around your kitchen table.

      Poker night with your buddies. Horsing around, laughter, beer. Everybody buzzing and no one’s really paying much attention to the current hand being dealt.

      Then suddenly Lorraine drops a clattering fistful of chips in the middle of the table.

      Silence falls. Everyone realizes… that’s the fattest pot they’ve ever seen. Lorraine grins.

      All eyes turn toward sweet, soft-spoken Jerry, next in line for the bet. He wipes a sweaty palm on his pant leg. Deciding if Lorraine’s bluffing or not now means serious money.

      Not to mention that until a couple months ago Jerry and Lorraine were married. Before she taped a “Dear Jerry” note on the aquarium tank and ran off with the pool man.

      The jocular mood of the evening evaporates. Everyone waits to see what poor Jerry will do.

      Lorraine radiates an irksome confidence behind her golden tan, gives off that needling smell of chlorine she always has about her these days. Jerry looks pale.

      He clears his throat. Then slides out every last chip he’s got. His rent for next month. “It’s not like you haven’t lied before,” Jerry mutters.

      Lorraine runs her tongue across collagen lips.

      Then oh so slowly, one by one, she lays down her cards.

      Are we curious to find out who wins?

      Sure. Because this poker game isn’t just about the money anymore. Although there are plenty of bucks on the table, additionally this showdown is about a broken heart, a dream shattered, a love betrayed, and the possible loss of a home. All of which raise the stakes.

      Audiences are far more interested in what happens next when the hero stands to lose something important. And the more urgently a hero wants something, the more willing they are to