Setting Up the Rules of the World

Movie audiences -- and the readers of many novels, for that matter -- are cool with writers transporting them to new and different worlds -- worlds that are far-fetched and which would never exist in real life -- as long as there are rules to that world. The way to lose a viewer or a reader very quickly is by not properly setting up the rules of that new world. What I mean by this is that it's fine to ask a viewer or a reader to suspend his belief for the duration of a novel or movie. But there are rules in that world that must be adhered to -- just like we have rules in our current world. Newton discovered some of the basic laws of physics a long time ago. You can change those laws in a sci-fi world, but then you make create new ones. And once you set up those new rules, you need to stick to them. Set up the rules of the new world as soon as the main character crosses over the threshold, as Christopher Vogler calls it, but once you've set up those rules, you must not diverge from them. You cannot change the rules of the world whenever you like. Your main character can't just discover a new, magic way to get out of every situation he encounters. Even in fantasy worlds, there have to be obstacles. Yes, your main character might discover a new power midway through the story. But he must work to do so, or else your story will come off as unrealistic.

Even in stories that have nothing to do with fantasy, you must often set up the new rules of the world. I was reading a script yesterday where the main character was in a situation that was totally unrealistic. The main character had just boarded a plane in the U.S., which had originated in a foreign country. Crazy shit was happening on that plane. It immediately came to mind that the writer hadn't spent enough time setting up the rules of this new world, as the plane ride represented the crossing over of the threshold scene.

One way I thought that the writer could fix this was by first having individuals from the "old world" commenting on how weird the stuff that happened on that plane was. Then the writer needed to also have characters from the new world (the pilot, the stewardesses, the other passengers) explaining the new rules to the main character.

This scene then would function as the "we're not in Kansas anymore" scene. Here, the main character realizes that he has crossed over from one world to another, and that the powers he had in the old world don't work anymore. In this writer's case, his main character was a rich kid. But on this plane, and in the country the main character was now traveling to, his wealth and status were no longer going to serve him.

I thought it would be helpful for the writer to create a particular "friend" character who would then be on hand to explain the new rules to the main character. That "friend" character is typically the catalyst/mentor character (and is sometimes also the love interest). In this writer's case, the new rules of the world were that there actually weren't any rules; this new world was lawless. Nevertheless, I was sure that, as soon as the main character landed in the foreign country, the new rules of the lawless land were going to be established, and that would create even more drama.

Your “Pet the Dog” Scene

The late Blake Snyder called it “saving the cat.” Other screenwriting mavens just call it your “pet the dog” scene. But the fact of the matter is that, if you are going to ask your audience to come along with you on a one-hundred-and-ten-page journey, there had better be something dazzlingly likeable about your main character, who should be flawed, yes, but not irrevocably so.

Of course, in order to make their main characters likeable, many screenwriters do, in fact, do just that – make their main character pet a dog at the beginning of the film, which is perhaps why the Jack Nicolson character in As Good As It Gets was so notorious, as he actually threw a dog down the trash chute on page one.

Other ways to get us on board with a main character is to show them with some special power. Yes, your main character should do some things poorly (this is what will humanize her) – but is there something that she does really well, some incredible talent she also has, which will make her irresistible?

Besides functioning to create a main character who viewers will actually be interested in watching the whole film through, a special power can also work alongside a flaw to help your main character get out of trouble. This is often the case in action-adventure films. Say, the main character is great at martial arts, which helps him (or her) get out of trouble, even if this flaw might be what actually leads him into trouble in the first place.

Another way to play with a main character’s special power, is to actually make your main character’s flaw into their talent or gift. This is especially important to do at the end of the movie. Think of Elle Woods in Legally Blonde. Here, you have this character who is so superficial and appearance-oriented. But it was her obsession with beauty that actually provided her the edge to crack the legal case in the end of the film.

I have heard script consultant and author of The Coffee Break Screenwriter, Pilar Alessandra, call this “synthesis.” What this means is that the main character begins the movie with a flaw, they overcome that flaw over the course of the second act, the final battle occurring at the end of act three – but it is actually the evolution of that flaw into something good, something the main character can use, that makes them fully formed, complete.

Great Place to Start Act One: The Protagonist's in a Rut

During a writer's group that I was attending through lawritersgroup.com, I came across something in one of the writer's pages she'd turned in that week. This writer, named Barbie, was writing about how her main character was in a rut. All she did was go to work, go home, the same ol' every day. Sound familiar? A lot of have found ourselves in a rut at some point in our lives (maybe at present). But what does this mean in terms of story?

The main character is often in a rut at the beginning of her story. She is stagnant. Maybe she has a lot of bad habits that are holding her back from the life she really should be living.

I heard once that, post-Freud, the modern novel would never be the same -- for now writers held the ability to psychoanalyze their main characters. What will any psychologist tell you if you reveal how your life is going nowhere, that you are in a relationship that no longer works for you, that you have a crap job, that you have a lot of friendships that are pulling you down because they are toxic? The psychologist will challenge you to change!

This is exactly what main characters have to do throughout the course of their journeys. They have to change. The main character's story then is about exactly HOW THEY WILL CHANGE. In essence, the main character's journey is about getting out of this rut and then transforming into a better person, who wins more than loses.

Ever met someone with so many bad habits that you fear they are going to die? This often happens in the case of people with addictions problems. And herein we have the basis for the tragedy. A tragedy, in the dramatic sense of the word, is the story of someone who cannot change. They have the bad habits -- they are stuck in a rut -- but they don't take the steps necessary to change their lives. They don't have courage. One of the most basic flaws a main character can have is fear. As I write, the movie Talledega Nights pops into my mind. Sure, it's a comedy and all, but Will Ferrel's main character suffers from fear. This is why he can no longer win, and thus the writers put him through some funny moments when he is learning to overcome his fear. But, nevertheless, it is his fear that he has to deal with over the course of his journey.

So... What have we learned? When plotting out your stories -- either in novel or screenplay form -- consider creating a rut for your main character to be in at the beginning of the story, before she is either pushed or seduced to change (and thereby enter act two).   

What Blake Snyder Called "Fun and Games"

Nicole Criona of lawritersgroup.com posted this comment on my blog: “Often times, bringing in a new character will also serve as a way to avoid expository dialogue, especially in screenplays, because now the main character has a reason to explain certain things to the ‘new kid’ and thereby the audience learns as well.”

I would add to this that, often in your story, your main character is actually the “new kid” and can thus have things explained to her (and henceforth to the audience). This is especially true at the beginning of act two, when the main character has just passed over the “threshold”, as Christopher Vogel calls it, into the “new world”. In many “odyssey type” stories, the main character is now a total foreigner in a new and different world and must learn how to deal and prosper here, most often with the help of friends (and more often than not enemies). The main character oftentimes meets his/her love interest at this point – and/or what I call the mentor/motivating character – and that character can also serve to shed light on the rules of the new world and thus also inform the audience through dialogue about what is going on.

Sometimes the mentor/motivating character does this with the help of, yes, a bit of exposition. But this can also happen through action scenes, as we see the main character flounder and become flustered by this new world where the rules of her old world no longer apply. The late, famed Blake Snyder also called this the “fun and games” section of the story, where the scenes we see in the trailer of a movie come from – also where we can "have fun" paying off much of the premise of the movie. “Fun and games” means all those funny (or dramatic) moments where the main character is learning her way around in this new world, often tripping and falling on her face, much to the amusement of the audience.

If you are writing a screenplay, you can look to dedicate at least ten to fifteen pages to this part of the story. Just remember: all this good stuff you can read in books on story structure and how to write screenplays shouldn’t depended on too much by writers, or it just becomes formula. Stick to a formula too closely, and your screenplay will come off as – you guessed it – formulaic. Isn’t it boring to sit in a theater, watching some big-budget blockbuster, and you know exactly what’s going to happen because the studio execs didn’t want to take any chances on veering from the tried and tested? On the other hand, make sure your scenes emerge organically. This will happen the more you practice writing.

Crisis vs. Conflict

Nicole Criona of lawritersgroup.com recently passed out a page on the subject of crisis vs. conflict by Dennis G Jerz during a writers group I participate in. Says Jerz: “Good storytellers differentiate between a crisis and conflict. Beginning authors often focus on the exciting crisis rather than the conflict that makes readers care about the characters enduring the crisis.”

Christopher Vogler has another name for this, which he calls the main character’s “inner” and “outer” problem.

The main character’s “outer” problem is whatever big thing he has to do on his journey: going on a road trip; saving a school; saving a life; saving the world.

The main character’s “inner” problem, on the other hand, is whatever emotional issue he is dealing with on this journey -- e.g. he is scared of love, so he needs to learn to open up; he weak, so he needs to learn to take leadership; he is fearful, so he needs to learn not to be so scared. Et cetera.

The reason why it’s so important for a character to have an inner journey (a conflict) is because this is what gives the story heart -- this is what we as the reader (or viewer of the film) connect to. We’ve been there; we understand. It’s human. Otherwise, it’s just some guy trying to save the world by destroying the biggest meteor to come flying directly at planet Earth. Sure, you can have cool effects. But the story gets boring if we don’t delve deeper into the character’s life.

The main character’s conflict, or “inner” problem, should also have something to do with how he deals with whatever greater physical issue he is dealing with in the story. For example, if the story is about fighting off space invaders on the main character’s space ship, his character flaw will most likely get in the way of that. Say, he’s too hubristic and doesn’t read all the signs that are telling him that these space invaders are going to attack his ship -- so he gets attacked even harder. This is what creates the drama, or whatever you are trying to do with your story. If it’s a comedy, then how the main character relates to his “outer” problem will be humorous. Et cetera.

Often times, it’s also good to interrelate the crisis and the conflict of your story so that there is some cohesive thematic element to them. What I mean by this is that, say, a man’s journey in the story of surviving an ice storm. So then you can have his inner journey be the story of him opening up to his son who’s he’s been estranged from (who just happens to get stuck with him during this ice storm). In other words, the main character’s “inner” journey is the story of his heart “melting”, letting his icy guard down and dealing with whatever core wound he has (his father was icy toward him; so he is scared to love).

While you are developing the conflict of your story, this is also a good time to explore (and show) some of your character’s rules. What are the typical things your character does in any given circumstance? When you show these things, then you can begin to show how your character might also break those rules. This is how we start to see this character change -- which we definitely want to see throughout the course of the story. If you story has a happy ending, then your character will be changing from a more flawed character to a character who is moved to make important choices to become a better person. Of course, if your story is a tragedy, then your character never gets over his flaw. We might think that he is going to. He might even make attempts to change. But in the end, he reverts back to his flawed ways. And that is what is tragic.

All in all, when a character has flaws, then we can show the consequences of these flaws throughout the course of the story. We can then write how the outcome of these consequences might also finally push our character to change. This is why, more often than not, we should introduce what I call a mentor/motivating character (who often times is new in the character’s life), who pushes the character to change. And, of course, all this we want to see while he is dealing with that over-arching crisis that is occurring in your story.