Storytelling

Stories don’t move at constant speed. Sometimes you slow down to show a conversation in real-time, word-by-word. Sometimes you compress a month into a sentence. This is the art of scene versus summary-choosing when to zoom in with vivid detail and when to zoom out for narrative compression. Master this, and you control pacing like a dial you can turn at will. Defining the Terms Scene: The Close-Up A scene unfolds in real-time (or close to it). You show: ...

The Millennium Falcon is a piece of junk. The cockpit chairs are mismatched. Panels are held together with what looks like duct tape. Wiring is exposed. The hyperdrive fails constantly. Everything looks jury-rigged, patched, and held together through sheer stubbornness. And that’s exactly why we believe in it. The Falcon feels lived-in. It has a history we never see but constantly sense. It’s been flown hard, repaired poorly, modified desperately, and loved despite all its flaws. ...

Every screenwriting book tells you the same thing: stories have three acts. Act 1: Setup (establish character, world, conflict) Act 2: Confrontation (escalating obstacles, rising stakes) Act 3: Resolution (climax, falling action, denouement) There’s a problem though. Most of your favorite movies don’t actually follow this structure. Or rather, they follow it so loosely that calling it “three acts” is misleading at best and creatively limiting at worst. Let’s be clear: the three-act structure isn’t wrong. But it’s not a rule-it’s a retrospective description, not a prescription. And treating it as gospel might be why your story feels forced. ...

Every compelling character is haunted by a belief that isn’t true. Not a minor misconception. Not a small error in judgment. A fundamental lie about themselves or the world that shapes every decision they make-until the story forces them to confront it. This lie is the engine of character transformation. And understanding how to craft it separates functional characters from unforgettable ones. What Is the Character’s Lie? The Lie is a false belief your character holds about themselves, others, or how the world works. It’s: ...

Every story makes a promise in its opening pages. Not explicitly. Not with words like “this will be…” But through tone, genre signals, pacing, and the questions it raises, your opening creates expectations about the kind of story this will be. Break that promise, and readers feel betrayed-even if the writing is brilliant. Keep it, and readers trust you enough to follow anywhere. The Unspoken Contract When a reader picks up your story, they’re asking: ...

Most storytelling advice tells you to start slow: establish the ordinary world, introduce your characters, build context before introducing conflict. The Fichtean Curve says: screw that. Start with a crisis. Then another crisis. And another. And another. Keep escalating until you reach a climax, deliver a brief resolution, and you’re done. No leisurely setup. No patient worldbuilding. No gentle easing the audience into the story. Just: Crisis. Crisis. Crisis. Boom. ...

Shane stands on the edge of a cliff. He’s drunk. He’s suicidal. He tells you he doesn’t see a point in living anymore. This is a farming game. And somehow, Stardew Valley handles this moment with more care, respect, and emotional intelligence than most “serious” narratives manage. How do you depict trauma-depression, addiction, grief-without: Exploiting it for shock value Romanticizing suffering Using it as lazy characterization Trivializing recovery Let’s explore how to write pain respectfully. ...