Elizabeth Gootzeit

A person closes a book, switches off the TV, walks out of a theater as the credits roll. Something is off. Maybe they were bored, maybe confused, but above all they are just…not satisfied. The subconscious simply knows: something about the story didn’t work. Even if audiences can’t always put a finger on it, I would wager their dissatisfaction most often stems from a mishandling of structure.

Lifelong engagement with media, be it books, movies, plays, TV, video games or anything else, builds an intuitive understanding of how stories work. This becomes most evident when a story misses the mark.

What does that mean when we sit down to craft our own stories? Getting started can prove daunting for novice storytellers and veterans alike. The key is to trust that innate understanding. As a lover of stories, you know Story. Capital S and all.

Later, when it does come time to tackle revision, you can yank out what’s been buried in your subconscious, those mechanics master storytellers hide so carefully behind the scenes. You might go to Joseph Campbell, Save the Cat, or any of the myriad breakdowns of structure. Experienced folks will assure you they “all are getting at the same thing.” Three Act Structure, Four Act Structure, all of it.

Understanding acts and beats and all can even help you outline if that’s your cup of tea, or help you revise when you feel stuck or your beta readers just aren’t feeling it.

And. As important as it is to understand your three acts, and your ten beats, sometimes we need to step back and recognize that “right” way we know so well is not the only right way.

I have engaged with Japanese media most of my life, starting with video games on the original Gameboy back in the day. I discovered anime and manga around age 11 and didn’t look back, even at a time when I had to explain to people what anime was (“It’s not cartoons. It’s anime. It’s not comics. It’s manga. It’s different.” I’m sure I was a delight.) I scoured the internet for whatever music I could find. I ordered VHS tapes of Japanese dramas taped by folks living in states like California and Hawaii. There was something about Japanese media that drew me in. It left me wanting more, to learn more, to understand more.

Western writers are used to hearing advice that boils down to “Up the conflict, up the conflict, think about wherever you can build in more conflict!” But there are stories where conflict is not needed. Some such storytelling is called kishōtenketsu.

Tumblr user Still Eating Oranges outlines it well: the four parts of kishōtenketsu are introduction, development, twist and reconciliation. The story hinges on that twist. The writer sets up the premise and characters, develops them, and then throws in something to turn the audience’s assumptions upside down. They have to reconcile the new information with the old. And then we’re out.

(Perhaps you’ve engaged with kishōtenketsu before. Shigeru Miyamoto and other folks at Nintendo have said it informs how they structure Mario levels.)

We understand our world through the lens of story. But there is not just one lens available to us. How fortunate that makes us.