No, no. Stories aren’t important! We don’t award Oscars® or Emmys® for stories. Children don’t yearn for storytime just before bed. We couldn’t be bothered to weave a story for the jury to gain freedom for our client. And, on WandaVision, the writers of the second episode script wouldn’t have the boss character ask Wanda and Vision what their STORY was, would they? Surely not. And, “A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away . . . ,” or “It was a dark and  stormy night . . . ,” or “Many years later . . . ,” or “It was the best of times, . . . ,” or “In the beginning . . .,” likely wouldn’t ring a bell for people—at all. Do we? Do they? Couldn’t we? Wouldn’t they?

Yes. Actually, stories are powerful. And, to understand stories, and tales (fairy and folk), and fables, and myths, and legends we must understand story. Let’s go.

A story is always a retelling. Otherwise, we would be living the experience, not telling about living the experience. (At least for experiences we’ve actually had; fiction, or tall tales work in a slightly different dynamic.)

But, what IS a story? One famous thinker said: “. . . a story [is] made of . . . characters and their doings.” Fair enough, let’s then look at the components implied in that brief definition. Stories have interconnected characters, settings, events, actions, interactions, and results. It’s usually the interconnected part that we most enjoy. How do most stories interconnect?

Here’s a story:

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A cat sneaked up on a bird.
The bird flew away just in time.

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Did you notice that the word “The” was particularly important, even if it didn’t seem so as you read the sentences?

If the sentences had read:

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A cat sneaked up on a bird.
A bird flew away just in time.

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Then you may still have perceived a story, but if you had been informed that the sentences were missing a few details:

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In 1773 a cat sneaked up on a bird.
A bird in Cleveland flew away just in time.

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So, the cat, in sentence one, isn’t within the same time or physical space as the bird in sentence two; therefore, no story connection or coordination.
(Hint: in 1773 Cleveland didn’t yet exist.)

So, in the original story sentences the word “The” indicates that the second-sentence bird in question was the one the first sentence cat was hoping to catch. Thus, the two sentences were joined together in the form of an exceptionally short story.

Most stories we enjoy, of course, have many more than two sentences, and, therefore, many more interconnections.

So, let’s say that a story involves characters who interact. Fine. But if that was all the farther that stories went in terms of complexity, we’d be streaming two-hour movies about Aunt Lynette and Uncle Butch playing cards together. Netflix, Disney, or Apple+ are NOT bidding for that movie.

Stories don’t only show up however on rainy nights with Aunt Lynette and Uncle Butch. Stories DO show up in nearly every facet of life. Let’s examine a couple of examples.

 

Here’s another story:

   

“In the nightmare, sirens caterwaul as ambulances careen down ice-slicked, car-crashed streets whose traffic lights flash all three colors at once (they’ve been hacked by North Korea) during a climate-catastrophic blizzard, bringing pandemic patients to hospitals without water or electricity—pitch-black, all vaccinations and medications spoiled (the power grid has been hacked by Iran)—racing past apartment buildings where people are freezing to death in their beds, families huddled together under quilts, while, outside the darkened, besieged halls of government, men wearing fur hats and Kevlar vests (social media has been hacked by Russia), flashlights strapped to their rifles, chant, ‘Q is true! Q is true!’”

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Compare that story to this slightly less disturbing one:

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“The beauty of Shirakawa-go is that you can just wander around without much of a plan and you’ll still end up stumbling upon beautiful places. 

I really enjoyed walking down the side lanes and back streets where we came across rice fields, gardens in bloom, and canals filled with koi fish.

I also couldn’t help marvelling [sic] at the natural refrigeration system in use at many of the shops. They have a waterwheel and use the cool water that comes down the mountain to refrigerate the beverages they have for sale.”

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Notice that, in the intentionally disturbing story, a storyteller presents a localized scene where horror reigns (sirens, crashed cars, hacked electronic systems, blizzard, pandemic, loss of water and electricity, no heat, besieged government buildings, and looney-tune cult chants) due to actions from faraway enemies; whereas, in the intentionally placid story, a storyteller presents a localized scene where enjoyment reigns (beautiful places, fields, gardens, koi canals, waterwheel, a natural refrigeration system) revealed via first-person story observations.

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Both stories offer characters, settings, events, actions, interactions, and results, yet one is intended to make you recoil with horror and the other intends to act either as an invitation, or a remembrance of a pleasant visit. Which story has the better chance of being in a book or a movie? Right, the horror scenario. Why? One reason that drives much storytelling in Western culture: problems mixed with conflict.

A convention of western storytelling centers in tales that walk through problems and conflict encountered by primary characters (or a primary character). We seem to most enjoy the vicarious experience of watching other characters solving their problems.

But those problems can come in many forms: humor, drama, suspense, horror, action-adventure, history, documentary, or romance.

Many other aspects beckon if you wish to learn more about stories (e.g., types of characters, pacing, cinematography, character motive, levels of meaning). Today’s a good day to start that investigation!

Our quick trip though stories (and other kinds of narrative expression), should give you a decent start in understanding how such public messages help create meaning.

Since we've only scratched the surface of stories (and other kinds of narrative expression) here, make sure you can continue your exploration of stories. Follow up and do more reading and thinking about narrative; below you'll find some important sources to choose from.

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Explore Sources

 

Bordwell, David. Narration in the Fiction Film. Routledge, 2013. 

Bordwell, David. The Way Hollywood Tells It: Story and Style in Modern Movies. Univ of California Press, 2006. 

Bordwell, David, Janet Staiger, and Kristin Thompson. The Classical Hollywood Cinema: Film Style and Mode of Production to 1960.

Columbia University Press, 1985.

Van Peer, Willie, and Seymour Benjamin Chatman, eds. New Perspectives on Narrative Perspective. SUNY Press, 2001. 

Pierce, Dann L. Introductory Rhetorical Narrative Analysis. 2nd ed. River Kishon, 2016.

Apple Books version CLICK HERE

 

Kindle version CLICK HERE

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