The Anatomy of Story Read Free Page B

"instruments" and levels at one time.
    As you watch your story grow before your eyes, I can promise you one
    thing: you will enjoy the creation. So let's begin.
    M ICHAEL C RICHTON doesn't have the deep human characters of a Chekhov or the brilliant plots of a Dickens. He just happens to be the best premise writer in Hollywood. Take Jurassic Park, for example. Crichton's story might have come from this designing principle: "What if you took the two greatest heavyweights of evolution—dinosaurs and humans—and forced them to fight to the death in the same ring?" Now that's a story I want to see.
    There are many ways to start the writing process. Some writers prefer to begin by breaking the story into its seven primary steps, which we will explore in the next chapter. But most begin with the shortest expression of the story as a whole, the premise line.
    WHAT IS THE PREMISE?
    The premise is your story stated in one sentence. It is the simplest combination of character and plot and typically consists of some event that starts the action, some sense of the main character, and some sense of the outcome of the story.
    Some examples:
    ■  The Godfather: The youngest son of a Mafia family takes revenge on the men who shot his father and becomes the new Godfather.
    ■  Moonstruck: While her fiance visits his mother in Italy, a woman falls in love with the man's brother.
    ■  Casablanca: A tough American expatriate rediscovers an old flame only to give her up so that he can fight the Nazis.
    ■ A Streetcar Named Desire: An aging beauty tries to get a man to marry her while under constant attack from her sister's brutish husband.
    ■  Star Wars: When a princess falls into mortal danger, a young man uses his skills as a fighter to save her and defeat the evil forces of a galactic empire.
    There are all kinds of practical reasons why a good premise is so crucial to your success. First, Hollywood is in the business of selling movies worldwide, with a big chunk of the revenue coming the opening weekend. So producers look for a premise that is "high concept"—meaning that the film can be reduced to a catchy one-line description that audiences will understand instantly and come rushing to the theater to see.
    Second, your premise is your inspiration. It's the "lightbulb" moment when you say, "Now that would make a terrific story," and that excitement gives you the perseverance to go through months, even years, of hard writing.
    This leads to another important point: for better or worse, the premise is also your prison. As soon as you decide to pursue one idea, there are potentially thousands of ideas that you won't be writing about. So you'd better be happy with the special world you've chosen.
    KEY POINT: What you choose to write about is far more important than any decision you make about how to write it.
    One last reason you must have a good premise is that it's the one decision on which every other decision you make during the writing process is based. Character, plot, theme, symbol—it all comes out of this story idea. If you fail at the premise, nothing else will help. If a building's foundation is flawed, no amount of work on the floors above will make the building stable. You may be terrific at character, a master at plot, or a ge-
    nius at dialogue. But if your premise is weak, there is nothing you can do to save the story.
    KEY POINT: Nine out of ten writers fail at the premise.
    The big reason so many writers fail here is that they don't know how to develop the idea, how to dig out the gold that's buried within it. They don't realize that the great value of a premise is that it allows you to explore the full story, and the many forms it might take, before you actually write it.
    Premise is a classic example of where a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. Most screenwriters know the importance Hollywood places on having a high-concept premise. What they don't know is that this marketing pitch is never going to tell