The Screenwriting Book That Changed My Life
What is the best storytelling book? For me, there’s one that stands out and profoundly altered how I view narrative forever. Here are some key insights from that book:
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A Long Time Ago…
INT. AUDITORIUM — NIGHT
Twelve grad students — including myself — struggle to stay awake while beginning their fourth class of the day: Film editing. Our teacher, an enthusiastic wisp of a woman, announces they’ll be discussing editing theory — using a book on storytelling. She tells us to flip to a certain chapter. We open to read the words “Designing Principle.” Huh? What is that, and what does it have to do with editing theory?
This book was John Truby’s The Anatomy of Story: 22 Steps to Becoming a Master Storyteller. Eh, I thought. Never heard of it.I’d never heard our eccentric screenwriting professor mention it either. Little did I know, my editing professor had just given me the key to unlocking my potential as a screenwriter — she’d given me the book that changed my life.
A Story Book?
Now, The Anatomy of Story affected my professional life as a screenwriter. The book that actually changed my life is, of course, the Bible. What is the Bible composed of, but stories? There are other literary genres in the Bible, sure. Still, the majority of the text is about the Creator relating to and personally redeeming first His people Israel and then humanity — told through a gripping meta-narrative. Truby references this narrative in his book, too.
Photo by Tanner Mardis on Unsplash
I say that a screenwriting book changed my life as a writer because, through Truby’s methods, I was able to understand narrative creation organically. It taught me how to build from the ground up instead of trying and failing to reverse-engineer a hit with a paint-by-numbers beat sheet. In essence, The Anatomy of Story made the strategy of storytelling accessible to a storyteller like me fumbling in the dark. Here are some of the takeaways from this excellent writing resource.
Story vs. Plot
Film school — undergrad and grad programs alike — taught me about plot and how to externalize its emotions. After all, I’ve trained primarily as a director who writes. This approach worked great for short films, as you can see from my Directing Reel:
Montage of my best work, most of which I also wrote. See more at carltrogers.com.
Moving up to the level of feature filmmaking, this surface-level understanding of story wasn’t going to cut it. The Anatomy of Story made this narrative maturity possible by showing me how to organically create a story with depth. Truby’s methods are reminiscent of the writing advice from one of my favorite writers: Edgar Allan Poe. On creating a story, Poe penned this in 1846:
Nothing is more clear than that every plot, worth the name, must be elaborated to its dénouement [ending] before anything be attempted with the pen. It is only with the dénouement constantly in view that we can give a plot its indispensable air of consequence, or causation, by making the incidents, and especially the tone at all points, tend to the development of the intention.
Truby brings this concept to fruition by taking the storyteller through a process of creating a story based on the concept (story idea) and the aforementioned “Designing Principle” — that is, the idea behind the concept that the author wishes to execute through the story.
Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash
Then, using potential character arcs and possible actions, the story organically builds logically from the designed ending to the unknown beginning. It might sound backward, but if it worked for Edgar Allan Poe — one of our greatest wordsmiths — then it ought to work for you, too.
Characters, not Caricatures
Speaking of characters and their arcs, another gem from Truby’s book The Anatomy of Story is that storytellers should think of their characters are real people. By imagining them as flesh-and-blood folks with wants, needs, weaknesses, and the like, you’re able to move past the pointless character charts you may have seen on Pinterest.
It doesn’t matter what your character’s favorite color is or how she styles her hair — what matters is what the person wants and the actions she takes to get it. Truby elucidates with regards to the “villains” in a story:
A true opponent not only wants to prevent the hero from achieving his desire but is competing with the hero for the same goal. By competing for the same goal, your hero and opponent are forced to come into direct conflict and do so again and again throughout the story. Start with your hero’s specific goal; whoever wants to keep him from getting it is an opponent.
I don’t recall Truby explicitly stating to think of characters as real people, but that’s the idea I cling to in my mind to remember the concepts he teaches. It’s helped me tremendously.
True Worldbuilding
It’s no secret I enjoy learning about worldbuilding and analyzing the created worlds of other writers. Before reading The Anatomy of Story, I thought worldbuilding was only about constructed languages (“conlangs”), dragons, and castles. While these are important characteristics of certain flavors of worldbuilding, the primary focus of a created story world should instead enhance the characters’ journey as they grow and change.
Think about Star Wars: A New Hope. Luke’s initial story of being stuck with extended family and having no future could have been set in any location on any made-up planet. Why did George Lucas create Tatooine, the desert planet? Because a desert is the best externalization of Luke’s emotional situation at the start of the in-media-res saga! (“In mee-dee-uh ray,” meaning “starting in the middle.”)
Photo by Katerina Kerdi on Unsplash
Deserts are barren, empty, and isolated — just like how Luke views his future alone with only his Aunt and Uncle for company. Yes, the beginning of the Star Wars saga could have begun in a booming metropolis or a jungle, but by stating in a desert, the audience experience’s Luke’s hopeless isolation visually.
So, worldbuilding is still about creating settings that exist outside of our “normal” world, but whatever is created should be an extension of the characters and their arcs.
Power of Story Symbols
Just like the story world in which the characters live, move, and have their being should relate to the narrative as a whole, so too should the objects the characters interact with. That’s where Truby’s symbol web concept comes in. According to Truby, symbols — which is any object which carries meaning — should be not used once and thrown away but rather utilized and developed throughout the story. This way, the symbol’s meaning and narrative weight are repeated iteratively and enhanced.
In the case of Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, Luke’s physical change from The Empire Strikes Back takes on new meaning. His father, Darth Vader, had cut off his hand and was replaced with an artificial one. In the climactic duel between the two in the final film of the trilogy, Luke cuts off his father’s hand — revealing it, too, is artificial.
Like father, like son. | Disney/Lucasfilm
This symbolizes the similarity between father and son and reminds Luke to not choose the same dark path as his wayward father. In this way, the character’s physical body becomes a part of the symbol web in that it is emblematic of the character’s growth — his arc.
By taking a symbol and turning it into a motif, the storyteller can externalize the character’s change as it occurs. Move aside, MacGuffins! Truby’s “symbol web” is for next-level narrative creators.
Anatomy of Story
Why am I hyping this book? Because if you’re a beginner storyteller of any type, you should at least give this book a try. Unlike most books on my bookshelf, I keep coming back to it — just like my Bible.
I’ve read a lot of screenwriting and storytelling books. Some I like, some I dislike, and some I actively tell people not to read…like Blake Snyder’s Save the Cat. You might read this and think it’s nothing special. That’s fine — for me, though, it was an eye-opener. If I could, I’d go back in time and give this to myself in high school. I’d be such a better writer now! This book won’t give you every secret or make screenwriting easy. It will, however, give you the tools you need to enjoy the arduous but rewarding storytelling process.
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