As playwrights, writers, and, even more fundamentally, storytellers, we are crafting works that are shaped according to a basic structure – a structure that has been identified and quantified ever since Aristotle’s Poetics. And using these prescribed building blocks and raw materials is what gives our stories a solid foundation.  Some may think that reducing all stories to a basic set of elements is too confining, that it leaves no room for creativity, but that’s like saying all western music lacks creativity and that it all sounds the same because it’s limited to a diatonic scale. Like a musician or composer who are confined by their instruments and the basic organizational structures within music, we too must work within a set of rules that govern our craft.

The composer, Aaron Copland, started out his career composing works in an avant-garde style, rejecting the musical norms and traditions. While he was at the MacDowell Colony in NH, he came to the realization that the very things he was trying to free himself of to be more creative were the things that allowed him to connect with an audience. So rather than creating works that challenged his audience to sit and listen, he decided to use the traditions to draw his audience in, give them something that they could relate to. But he also stretched the norms ever so slightly with intricate rhythmic patterns and an expanded harmonic palette. On the surface, Fanfare for Common Man seems pretty common and not really groundbreaking, but if you look at the music you find an a-rhythmic structure that gives it its beautiful natural feel and makes it a challenging piece to perform.

When you get right down to it, athletic competition perfectly embodies and demonstrates the dramatic structure. The action is clear – win the game. And interest in a game increases when the stakes of winning are high, like in a playoff game or championship, as opposed to a preseason game where winning is meaningless. Though, even when the stakes are high, interest can wain if one team or competitor is dominant and there is no real threat of losing. But when the stakes are high and it’s a tight race to the finish – we are glued to see if the protagonist will prevail. And while each sport follows a strict set of rules, there is still great individual creativity within the strictures. We would certainly lose all interest in a game if the players suddenly decided to throw out the rulebook and do whatever they wanted.

Sports also has a clear advantage over telling stories – the outcome is not predetermined. Even so, when a story is well crafted, people return to it again and again even though they know the ending, which again speaks to the power of structure. As Aristotle understood, we are wired to need a protagonist to root for and to become invested in their active pursuit of a seemingly unattainable goal. On the surface, it can seem extremely formulaic, but that is where the individual creativity comes into play. As writers we are challenged to discover inventive ways to manipulate the elements and come up with new ways to envision how the story ends – which can also be troublesome, but I’ll explore that in a future blog.

Now, I assume we all know the basic outline of the three-act story arc, Freytag’s pyramid, and probably are aware of even more standard formulas used for screenplays that spell out what should happen on a specific page number. For me, I simply think of it as a sequence of actions and events – actions being the active pursuit of a goal and events either being the resolution of the action or something that causes the action to change or shift. The overall macro action/event is simply comprised of numerous micro actions/events.

If you are looking for a more academic discussion of structure, I’d suggest googling the term –  “Dramatic Structure”. I’m still amazed at how much information is so quickly available. One of my favorites is the video – Kurt Vonnegut on the Shapes of Stories.

And if you are looking for some alternative opinions, you can read the HowlRound interview with the playwright Chantal Bilodeau in which she discusses “Breaking up with Aristotle” – and her original essay explaining the breakup “Why I’m Breaking Up with Aristotle”.  

Hopefully, this has caused you to start thinking about your own relationship with dramatic structure and question – are you ready to kick Aristotle to the curb, hold him at arm’s length, or fully embrace him? While I’ve laid out my case in support of adhering to the fundamentals, I’d say I’m between arm’s length and full embrace.  How about you?