“THE BASICS OF STORY PLANNING” is based in a screenwriting seminar by Dany Campo, A writer of cinema and advertising, analyst of scripts for movie producers and also independent producers and finally a scriptwriting teacher in various colleges and on his Youtube channel, and also by a seminar I gave in the writing Discord server “Whisper Of Words”.
This seminar will focus on the basics of story planning and the elements that conforms it.
Now, how can this help you improve your writing? Aren’t these too obvious? Well, it’s no secret that these things are known to most but not for everyone, and it’s so easy to make a mistake in one of the essential elements that can it make your work hard to understand or less attractive to spectators in search of a juicy story. Which is why I believe it’s important to master the basic knowledge to understand your work, since these elements are what your story is trulyabout
Two thousand years ago, there was a man called Aristotle, whom you’ve probably already heard of, who asked himself some the questions we are making ourselves today: Why are there stories that endure time and others that are forgotten? Why are people attracted to these that are still remembered today?
To find the answers to these questions, he did a field research, studying the stories that had endured time until then, two thousand years ago. THE POETICS was product of this investigation, one of the first essays about narrative. He discovered that many of these stories had a series of common elements that can be resumed in the following.
There was a character, whom he called hero, with a goal and a dream.
The hero does things to reach his dream.
And on the way to achieve his goal, difficulties, obstacles appear which then created a conflict for the hero and the spectator. This conflict was what defined the center of the story.
To briefly explain this theory, the first act serves to understand the protagonist and the goals he wanted to accomplish, the second act has to do with what they do to face the obstacles that’s on their way and finally, the third act in which they overcomes the obstacles, the protagonist goes towards the culmination of his journey and the “achievement” of their goal.
A clear division of the story. The approach/statement, the development and the outcome. A clue to this theory in proportion is that the second act is the double of the first and the last. It means that while the 1st and 3rd act could be 25%, the middle act will be 50%. It is important to note that these measurements will not be always exact as they just are a reference.
Now, other forms to tell a story have appeared throughout history such as the Dramatica Act Structure, Michael Hauge’s “Six Stage Plot Structure”, John Truby’s “Twenty-two Building Blocks” and Freytag’s Pyramid “Five-Act Structure”; but so far, this has been the most rentable and effective way to tell a story as it has been demonstrated for thousands of years and is still being used today. But of course, it also depends on the writer rather than just the theory alone.
The three-act theory was constantly reformulated as the time went on, especially when the industry of cinema came to be, and it ended in a quote which will help us to build everything and the most important of this seminar.
Do not forget it.
Someone wants something with intensity and finds obstacles to get it.
This quote alone resumes the core of a story and its respective elements that facilitates story planning for both plotters and pantsers. To have a better understanding of the key sentence of this seminar, it could be explained like the following:
A protagonist is someone who does things to achieve his goal for a reason; the conflict is when we face two options: a bad one and a worst one. And finally, once the conflict is overcomed and a solution is found, it must be put on practice and achieve the goal, leading to the conclusion of the story.
As I established previously, there are other methods to plan a story but this is one of the most basic and known ways to do so, and thus, you are not obliged to strictly follow a certain method.
“It depends on the storyteller who needs to know how to apply the knowledge they have acquired rather than just the theory itself.”
The upcoming posts will explain in detail all the elements contained in the quote: the protagonist, the goal, the motivation, the conflict and the ending; the 5 basic elements in story planning.
I’m your secret cupid, @southernlynxx !!! I’m so sorry this took forever dear; the past few weeks have been totally insane and out of my hands to control. I chose your first wish and decided to mix it up with some good reassurance (happy) angst which i found fitting for the theme;
John trying to understand & accept Arthur’s affection around camp! I hope you enjoy it, happy late Saint Valentine’sday!!!
P.D → I was inspired by this photo I took in my game! Totally worth it.
John never thought it would be like this.
At first, it was awkward—maybe bizarre. But that was just the beginning.
As the sun rose from the West, John walked out of his tent like a dead man; dark bags under his eyes and scratching his side, yawning without shame. Thirty minutes of sleep—or less—felt great. Just what he needed, right? Taking guarding rounds at night for the past few weeks to avoid him. Yes, that man. The one who had become his greatest relief and headache at the same time, Arthur Fucking Morgan.
While John agonized, Arthur was at his best. Refreshed, clean, and glowing like a damn pearl who had found its way to the surface, gleaming under the Sun—too shiny for John’s liking. Thankfully, his tormenting and seductive eyes were nowhere to be found yet. But, why was John avoiding him as if he was a pest? It’s complicated, you’ll understand later on.
John walked to the empty soup cauldron and grabbed the coffee pot next to it and a metallic cup nearby. He sighed as he sipped from the coffee he had just poured himself; feeling the smoke coming off his mouth like locomotor steam. He needed it to be functional, it had become his coal and main source of energy.
He stood next to the fire in the common area, waiting for Dutch to give a speech he had asked everyone the night before to hear. Why the hell would he give a speech so early in the morning when even the rooster hadn’t yet given his call to the sky? He wondered, staring his distorted reflection in the coffee in his hand.
It was a quiet morning, everyone who woke up, quickly waved at John and left to grab a coffee, or so it remained until the feared one appeared. He walked graciously without effort, his shirt had some buttons undone that showed his chest and collarbone, looking like a damn angel. He rinsed his face and John saw with detail from afar how every drop of water dripped down his face and neck. It made him thirsty. That man was no other than Arthur Morgan.
Arthur ran his hand through his hair and over his nape. To John, that man could’ve been the Devil himself walking on Earth, an angel who had fallen from Heaven for his ego. He was too full of himself, afly in making everyone blush in a moment’s notice. Before John could realize, Arthur was staring at the red in his cheeks and grinned, satisfied from his reaction.
“Damn you!” John whispered, looking anywhere but at him as he burned his tongue and narrowed his eyes.
Arthur, with his smug grin, quickly grabbed his coffee and sat next to the fire a few feet away from John, who didn’t know Arthur was just mesmerized with his foolishness, head over heels for a stubborn and reckless but loveable little piece of shit—a nickname truthful to his nature. A true rascal! Against his better judgement and all prognostics, an all-standing jinx befell upon him like rain in a desert.
He admired John from the ground, his strong jawline, the scars on his cheek that ran to his nose and the corner of his lips. However, his foul mouth didn’t catch up with his beauty—quick witted and far too fast for his train of thought that always got him in trouble. Arthur drank from his coffee and looked at John in the eye who, this time, didn’t turn their gaze away but held it dearly.
“What are you thinkin’ about?” John asked with his raspy voice, trying to sound uninterested but contradicted by the widened pupils in his curious eyes.
A walking contradiction, Arthur thought with a grin. “Wanna’ know?” He took a long swig of his cup and let it sit in his lap.
John hesitated for a moment. "No.“ Nevermind.
The blue-greened eye man cleaned the corner of his mouth with his thumb and licked it and slightly blushed. "What a shame.”
John couldn’t stop staring Arthur, something had lit in the corner of his mind.
“Anyway, what does Dutch want this early in the morning?”
“Don’t know, don’t care.” Arthur rolled his eyes and looked at his feet.
John gulped, bothered by Arthur’s sudden behavior to which he decided to blind the eye on.
“He’s been acting… strange,” John mutters, making a long pause.
He was right. Dutch had changed; it was the gleam in the eye he had always told them to not have—those of an ambition far too great, burned by being too close to the Sun. Everybody had noticed but kept quiet, making a silent agreement in not talking about the matter. John had a hunch of what it meant, but also kept quiet.
“No more than you; what’s going on with ya’? Did the wolves eat the brain whole? You’ve been avoiding me!”
Did he notice? He knew he wasn’t hiding the fact so well, but admitting it hurt his pride.
“The hell you sayin’?! No, I haven’t!”
Arthur smiled in response, as if it was the answer he was expecting.
“Why?”
John narrowed his eyes.
“Why what?”
“You know.”
He stood up, spilt the coffee left in his cup into the fire and slowly walked to John. His body swung with temptation, a fierce cat-walk with a daring look in his eyes. John felt like his feet were stuck to the ground, unable to take just one step aside to avoid the storm walking straight to him. His metallic eyes were bewitched by Arthur’s; he sure knew how to charm him every damn time.
He didn’t stop until he towered over John, trapping him with his voluptuous figure.
“Why are you so shy?” He whispered to John in the ear with a burning breath that heated and tinted his cheeks in deep red.
John forgot how to breath. He was so close that he felt their bodies touch and their minds collide.
“I, uh…”
“you what, dear?”
How shameless could the bastard be? Didn’t he have any limit?
“I don’t wanna talk here; let’s go somewhere else.” John imposed in a soft mutter.
“Alright.”
They went to John’s tent taking hands. They were cramped in such a small place, where their breathing burned eachother’s skin and only a dim light shined through the entrance. A long pause arrived when the world had seemed to stop rotating and time had gone somewhere else, making everything but them oblivious and unimportant.
“I don’t understand why are you doing this,” John said with long sigh, finally giving in.
John rested his head in Arthur’s shoulder, feeling his body finally relax after the tense moment.
“I thought we were a secret, ya’ know?” he muttered, “a thing only you and I knew. Our thing.”
Arthur combed his fingers through John’s black hair, softly caressing the back of his head and humming in agreement.
“I don’t seem to understand why you smile at me every time you see me or why you, like, want to touch me every time you can—or when you look at me like that.”
“Does it make you uncomfortable?”
“No! I, ugh… I don’t know.”
Arthur chuckled. “I get it.”
John sighed in relief. Did it mean he would stop acting weird? I mean, Arthur would always be a bastard no matter how you look at it, but he called it an improvement.
“I’m sorry” he continued ”, but there’s no stopping me in loving you.”
What. In. The. World. That’s not what he meant!
“Arthur, you’re not listening—”
“Every damn word, of course I do…”
“Then why are you doing this?!” John buried his head deeper, frustrated. “I’m an asshole, okay, I get it. But that’s not a reason for you to do this to me.” Enchanting me, making me drunk with every word you whisper. Damn you.
“John, I—”
“I don’t deserve it.”
A long silence between them came to be except for the more recurrent footsteps outdoors, stumping into the grass and dirt. John held tighter to Arthur, who stepped back only to take a closer look to his face, eye to eye.
“Listen closely, you little piece of shit.”
John flinched to the sudden grab by his collar, wanting to look away but Arthur only held his gaze closer.
“There’s no denying that you are an idiot— but my idiot. I’m a fool myself, an old dirty bastard that’s only getting older with every day that goes by, thinking that I’m the happiest man alive every damn time I look at you and even though I know I don’t deserve it either. I ain’t a good man, John. And you fucking know it.” He grabbed his collar stronger as if it was a threat, with that dead look in his eyes that had seen the deeds their owner had done.
After Arthur realized what he did, he let John go.
“If it was about deserving, John, you would’ve never been mine.“
He gently took John’s hand laid it in his face, placing a gentle kiss in the back of his hand.
John couldn’t speak a word. His mind had gone blank except for the beautiful image of Arthur lovingly playing with his fingers, laying kisses in the tip of his fingers, and the words that uttered in the corners of his mind, echoing Arthur’s whispers.
"I’m sorry, John. But I beg you, let this damn fool love you and show it to you.”
John placed his hand in Arthur’s earlobe. As if both had read their minds, they looked into each other’s eyes before leaning into a soft, gentle kiss.
Their kisses never tasted sweet. It was rough, with sweat and blood that was so common in there lives. Neither of them deserved the sweet taste of paradise, but they were making one of their own.
“You make me feel like a fool, Arthur.”
“You too.”
John wished this moment lasted forever. He wanted to enjoy the moment when their souls had gotten closer, but a voice outside called.
“Arthur, John, Where are you?!” Dutch called, irritated of waiting.
They separated and held each other’s gaze for a moment.
“We should go,” John whispered tenderly as he rolled he eyes.
“Let’s go,” Arthur chuckled.
Arthur gently held John’s hand before heading out of the tent, ready for the world.
it’s the moment we dread the most in the game… the first time, we are taken by surprise but when we play RDR2 a second time, somewhere, we hope to be able to find another voice for Arthur
