Why Stories Change Everything
Fact: Stories change humans.
Fact: There are humans reading this blog post.
Fact: This is a good time for you to run away before Writer Off the Leash changes you.
Okay, so I veered off course there just a tad, but it really is a fact that stories change the human brain, and I've got back-up on this so don't shoot me yet. If you're really in to multi-syllabic scientificky-type words, then watch Empathy, Neurochemistry and the Dramatic Arc. Otherwise, just take my word for it and let's move on.
There's a process for the way a story changes us. Once a story holds our attention for a period of time (assuming, of course, it's a kick-butt story), a reader begins to resonate with the characters. There's a fancy term for this: transportation. When you experience "transportation," you may even begin to feel physiological changes such as an increase in heart rate or breathing due to the release of oxytocin. That's usually barely noticeable to the reader, though, because the person has "transported" into the story and is living there instead of reality.
But not all stories transport a reader. Only the good ones. So . . . how is a writer supposed to construct a story that causes this effect?
The Dramatic Arc
1. Begin with something surprising. It's imperative to immediately hook a reader with a flash-bang.
2. Increase tension by tossing in difficulty after difficulty that the characters have to overcome -- and if they don't overcome them, they're toast.
3. These tensions must lead to a deep, dark moment -- a climax -- where the characters have to face their fears in order to succeed.
4. The main characters should be forever changed by the end of the story.
That's it. Those four simple steps will cause the transportation effect in a reader and will seriously mess with their mind -- in a good way, that is. Thankfully. Lord knows there's enough litigation going on without readers lobbing lawsuits at authors.