The Anatomy of Story (51 page)

■ Changed Desire
Unchanged.

■ Changed Motive
Unchanged.

■ Revelation 3
Nick finds out that Catherine's parents died in an explosion.

■ Decision
He decides that Catherine is the killer and goes after her.

■ Changed Desire
Unchanged.

■ Obsessive Drive
He will beat this brilliant killer if it's the last thing he does (and it may well be),

■ Changed Motive
Unchanged.

■ Revelation 4
Nick's fellow cop, Gus, tells him that an internal affairs cop named Nilsen died with a large sum of money in the bank, as if someone had paid him off.

■ Decision Nick makes no clear decision based on this information, but he does decide to uncover the source of this money.

■ Changed Desire
Nick wants to find out why Nilsen had all this money.

■ Changed Motive
Unchanged.

■ Revelation 5
Nick discovers that his ex-girlfriend, Beth, changed her name, that Nilsen had her file, and that Beth's husband was killed in a drive-by shooting.

■ Decision
Nick decides to try to prove that Beth is the real killer.

■ Changed Desire
He wants to know if Beth is committing these murders and pinning the blame on Catherine.

■ Changed Motive
He still wants to solve the murder.

■ Revelation 6
Gus tells Nick that Beth was Catherine's college roommate and lover.

■ 
Decision
Nick decides to go with Gus to confront Beth.

■ Changed Desire
Nick still wants to solve the murders, but now he's certain Beth is the killer.

■ Changed Motive
Unchanged.

Notice with the detective thriller, the revelations get bigger and closer lo home.

"Theme of the Traitor and the Hero"

(
by Jorge Luis Borges, 1956)
Borges is a rare example of a writer who has great reveals, even in very short stories, but they don't dominate the story at the expense of character, symbol, story world, or theme. Inherent to Borges's philosophy as a writer is an emphasis on learning or exploring as a way out of a labyrinth that is both personal and cosmic. As a result, his revelations have tremendous thematic power.

"Theme of the Traitor and the Hero" is a short story made up almost totally of revelations. In it, the unnamed storyteller explains that he is formulating a story whose details are not yet revealed to him. His narrator, Ryan, is the great-grandson of Kilpatrick, one of Ireland's greatest heroes, who was murdered in a theater on the eve of a victorious revolt.

■ Revelation 1
While writing a biography of Kilpatrick, Ryan discovers a number of troubling details of the police investigation, such as a letter Kilpatrick received, warning him not to attend the theater, much like the letter Julius Caesar received warning him of his murder.
■ Revelation 2
Ryan senses that there is a secret form of time in

which events and lines of dialogue are repeated throughout history.
■ Revelation 3
Ryan learns that words a beggar spoke to Kilpatrick were the same as those found in Shakespeare's
Macbeth.

■ Revelation 4
Ryan discovers that Kilpatrick's best friend, Nolan, had translated Shakespeare's plays into Gaelic.

■ Revelation 5
Ryan finds out that Kilpatrick ordered the execution of a traitor—identity unknown—just days before his own death, but that order doesn't square with Kilpatrick's merciful nature.

■ Revelation 6
Kilpatrick had previously given his friend Nolan the job of uncovering the traitor in their midst, and Nolan had discovered that the traitor was Kilpatrick himself.

■ Revelation 7
Nolan devised a scheme whereby Kilpatrick would be assassinated in a dramatic way so that he would die a hero and trigger the revolt. Kilpatrick agreed to play his part.

■ Revelation 8
With so little time for the plan, Nolan had to steal elements from Shakespeare's plays to complete the scheme and make it dramatically convincing to the people.
■ Revelation 9
Because the Shakespearean elements are the least dramatic in the scheme, Ryan realizes that Nolan used them so that the truth of the scheme, and Kilpatrick's identity, would one day be uncovered. Ryan, the narrator, is part of Nolan's plot.
■ Audience Revelation
Ryan keeps his final discovery a secret and instead publishes a book glorifying Kilpatrick.

THE STORYTELLER

To use a storyteller or not, that is the question. And it's one of the most important decisions you must make in the writing process. I am talking about it here in connection with plot because the storyteller can radically change the way you sequence the plot. But if you are writing an organic story, a storyteller has just as much effect on your depiction of character.

Here's the rub (to carry the
Hamlet
metaphor a bit further). The storyteller is one of the most misused of all techniques, because most writers don't know the implications of the storyteller or its true value.

The vast majority of popular stories in movies, novels, and plays don't use a recognizable storyteller. They are linear stories told by an omniscient storyteller. Someone is telling the story, but the audience doesn't know who and doesn't care. These stories are almost always fast, with a strong, single desire line and a big plot.

A storyteller is someone who recounts a character's actions, either in the first person—talking about himself—or in the third person—talking about someone else. Using a recognizable storyteller allows you greater complexity and subtlety. Stated simply, a storyteller lets you present the actions of the hero along with commentary on those actions.

As soon as you identify the person who is telling the story, the audience immediately asks, Why is that person telling this story? And why does this particular story need a teller, need to be recounted right now before my eyes? Notice that a storyteller calls attention to himself and, at least initially, can distance the audience from the story. This gives you, the writer, the benefit of detachment.

A storyteller also lets the audience hear the voice of the character who is doing the telling. People handy about the term "voice" all the time, as if it were some golden key to great storytelling. When we talk about letting the audience hear the character's voice, we are really putting the audience in the character's
mind
, right now as he speaks. It is a mind expressed in the most precise and unique way possible, which is what the character talks about and how he says it. Being in the character's mind implies that this is a real person, with prejudices, blind spots, and lies, even when he isn't aware of them himself. This character may or may not be trying to tell the truth to the audience, but whatever truth comes out will be highly subjective. This is not the word of God or an omniscient narrator. Taken to its logical extreme, the storyteller blurs, or even destroys, the line between reality and illusion.

Another important implication of a storyteller is that he is recounting what happened in the past, and that immediately brings memory into play. As soon as an audience hears that this story is being
remembered,
they get a feeling of loss, sadness, and "might-have-been-ness." They also feel that the story is complete and that the storyteller, with only the perspective that comes after the end, is about to speak with perhaps a touch more wisdom.

Some writers use this combination—someone speaking personally to the audience and telling the story from memory—to fool them into thinking that what they are about to hear is more, not less, truthful. The storyteller says in effect, "I was there. I'm going to tell you what really happened. Trust me." This is a tacit invitation to the audience
not
to trust and to explore the issue of truth as the story unfolds.

Besides heightening the issue of truth, the storyteller gives the writer some unique and powerful advantages. It helps you establish an intimate connection between character and audience. It can make your characterization subtler and help you distinguish one person from another. Furthermore, the use of a storyteller often signals a shift from a hero who acts—usually a fighter—to a hero who creates—an artist. The act of telling the story now becomes the main focus, so the path to "immortality" shifts from a hero taking glorious action to a storyteller who tells about it.

A storyteller is tremendously liberating when it comes to constructing the plot. Because the actions of the plot are framed by someone's memories, you can leave chronology behind and sequence the actions in whatever way makes the most structural sense. A storyteller also helps you string together actions and events that cover great stretches of time and place or when the hero goes on a journey. As we've discussed, these plots often feel fragmented. But when framed by a remembering storyteller, the actions and events suddenly have a greater unity, and the huge gaps between the story events seem to disappear.

Before we discuss the best techniques when using a storyteller, here's what to avoid. Don't use the storyteller as a simple frame. The story begins with the storyteller saying in effect, "I'd like to tell you a story." He then recounts the events of the plot in chronological order and ends by saying, "That's what happened. It was some amazing story."

This kind of framing device is quite common and is worse than useless. Not only does it call attention to the storyteller for no reason, but it also fails to take advantage of any of the implications and strengths of the storyteller technique. It seems to exist only to let the audience know that they should appreciate this story because it is being told in an "artistic" way.

However, there are a number of techniques that will let you take full advantage of the storyteller. The reason these techniques are so powerful is that they are inherent in the structure of
a person who needs to tell a story
and of
a story that needs to be told.
But don't think you must use all of them at once. Every story is unique. Pick the techniques that are right for you.

1. Realize that your storyteller is probably your true main character.

Whether you use first- or third-person narration, nine out of ten times, the storyteller is your true hero. The reason is structural. The act of telling the story is the equivalent of taking the self-revelation step and splitting it in half. At the beginning, the storyteller is looking back to try to understand the impact his actions or someone else's actions have had on him. In recounting those actions—of another or of himself at some earlier time—the storyteller sees an external model of action and gains a profound personal insight that changes his life in the present.

2. Introduce the storyteller in a dramatic situation.

For example, a fight has just occurred, or an important decision must be made. This places the storyteller
within
the story, creating suspense about the storyteller himself and giving the storyteller's tale a running start.

■
 
Sunset Boulevard:
The storyteller, dead man Joe Gillis, has just been shot by his lover, Norma Desmond.

■ Body and Soul:
The storyteller is about to enter the boxing ring, where he will throw the championship fight.

■ The Usual Suspects:
The storyteller may be the only survivor of a mass killing and is being interrogated by the cops.

3. Find a good trigger to cause him to tell the story.

Instead of "I'm going to tell you a story," the storyteller is personally motivated by a story problem in the present. And this story problem, this personal motivation, is directly linked to why he has to tell
this
story right now.

■
 Body and Soul:
The storyteller hero is a corrupt boxer. He is about to throw the title fight, so he needs to understand how he got to this point before the fight begins.

■
 The Usual Suspects:
The interrogator threatens to put a contract out on Verbal's life unless he talks.

■
How Green Was My Valley:
The hero is devastated that he is being

driven out of his beloved valley. He needs to know why this happened before he goes.

4. The storyteller should not be all-knowing at the beginning.