Four Steps To A Story

This isn’t your usual ‘how to write a story in X easy steps’ post, though. This is less about how to quickly sketch down a story you want to write, it is more about writing a story which will work out. We are going to explore the narrative arc and an unusual way in which it is also used.

The narrative arc, to start off with that, is the way a story is usually told: intro, exposition, rising action, and climax. Of course, you can break it up into more pieces and name them differently, but that’s how it goes.

Intro is the beginning, when the story introduces the main lead and, usually, the main problem. It allows the reader to get into the world and sets up the whole story.

Exposition is when the story takes the time to introduce everything around the main lead and the main problem, to deepen the reader’s understanding of the world. It’s usually a slower part and the real conflict has not yet started fully.

Rising Action comes as soon as the reader has enough understanding of the situation. Things get rolling, the main lead starts to act. Things go well, things to badly, but on the whole, there is progress.

Climax, finally, is when the protagonist (or main lead) and the antagonist crash in the big finale which decides how the story will end. The climax doesn’t always involve a fight, but it is the big scene or row of scenes where the problem is resolved (or the main lead fails finally, but that is much rarer).

Usually, the story is ended with a little decline from the climax, just a scene or a few showing how everything went back to normal or to a new normal. Closing time, something usually missing from short stories, where the end of the climax also means the end of the story.

Let’s have a look at it by applying those four parts to Star Wars (A New Hope, as it’s known today):

First the audience is introduced to the main problem, the Empire and the missing Death Star plans. Then they are introduced to Luke Skywalker as the main lead (the droids provide the connection between both parts of the introduction).

Exposition follows as Luke chases down R2D2, thus being away from the farm when it’s attacked by the Empire. Obi-Wan provides more exposition by giving Luke his father’s lightsaber and providing some background information (faulty, as it turns out) on his own past and that of Luke’s father. The exposition also includes the bar scene where Han and Chewie join the hero group.

This is the point where the action starts rising. Han shooting Greedo (yes, he totally shot first) is the start. Parallel to this, Alderaan is destroyed. But it’s once the Falcon has been pulled into the Death Star vehicle bay when things really start moving. Obi-Wan disappears to disengage the tractor beam. Luke finds out Leia is on the Death Star and wants to save her, taking Han and Chewie along. Leia joins the group, proving her worth right away. Things go up and down (into the prison block, being discovered, defeating the guards, finding Leia, ending up in the garbage chute) and the odds are rising. Obi-Wan’s death provides a black point, the moment of despair showing the main lead that backing out is no longer an option. The escape brings the Rebellion the plans to destroy the new weapon.

The climax, finally, is the battle against the Death Star, having to defeat it on a tight schedule (before it can target the Rebel base). This raises the odds once more and makes it clear that this battle will make or break the Rebellion (since all important leaders are in one place here).

After the battle, the medal award ceremony provides a little closing for the audience.

The climax doesn’t always have to be a fight. In a political thriller, the climax is when the intrigues spun throughout the story come to fruition. In a slice-of-life story, the main character’s change finally happens. In a romance story, the destined couple finally comes together and become a couple.

But what is the unusual way I hinted above? It’s … quests in RPGs, especially in computer RPGs (since the pen-and-paper variety always depends on the GM). A quest chain usually is made up of four types of quests which often follow the same sequence: Explore, Expand, Exploit, Exterminate.

Explore is usually the first type of quest you get. It introduces you to the world of the game or to a new area you haven’t entered before. Explore quests usually send you around a lot. They allow for you to familiarize yourself with the area.

Expand is often the second type of quest you get. By telling you to deliver something to someone or to speak to someone or to get those X whatever-horrid-creature-bits-the-game-has-to-offer, you have to expand your knowledge of the area and of those within. You are sent around, talking to people, taking small jobs, delivering stuff, and fighting the regular enemies there.

Exploit will happen as soon as you have expanded your knowledge of the area. You have learned who will pay for what, how to craft things with the specific resources of the area, which monster brings most experience or leaves the best loot. By giving you jobs which demand you use that knowledge, the game forces you to use all that knowledge extensively.

Exterminate, finally, sends you out against the big bad (of the game or the area). You might have to go into a dungeon and fight your way to the very last room or you might be sent out to kill a specific, very dangerous monster somewhere on the map. By using the knowledge and the skills you have developed during the quest chain, you can manage this final mission and end the quest chain. If it happens to be the main quest, that will end the game, in other cases, you will get a lot of rewards and be better prepared for what lies ahead.

If you really look at those four types, you will see the same things as with the narrative arc: first the introduction, then the expansion of the knowledge, then the use of the knowledge (which leads to rising action in a story), and afterwards the climax where the evil is exterminated (or, less martially, the problem is solved).

The real reason for this is that the narrative arc is how stories work. You need to establish the plot of the story (and, please, stick to it afterwards). You need to give the reader all information on the situation and the main characters. You need to get everything going, give the reader the fun, action, and thrills they came for. You need to end the story with a bang, resolving the plot. And that is precisely what those four parts of the arc stand for. The closing scenes in the end are optional, but a standard for longer stories. And since quests are the way to tell a story in an RPG, the quest types follow the same line.

Black Vs. White And How To Break It Up

Vampire hunting - if there’s any profession which is more suited to ‘black vs. white’ thinking, I’ve yet to see it. (Well, monster hunting on the whole is as suited, I guess.) Yet, “Brian Helsing: The World’s Unlikeliest Vampire Hunter” shows that doesn’t have to be the case. Okay, a lot of the vampires in the novels are just evil, but the same doesn’t go for other beings he meets - and that’s where the story actually gets interesting.

Warning: this post discusses plot lines and content of the “Brian Helsing” series. If you haven’t read it so far (up to #7) and don’t want to encounter spoilers, you should read this post after reading the series.

A lot of stories, especially pulp or adventure yarns, do a pretty clear divide between who is a white hat and who is a black one (this ‘good vs. evil’ metaphor was brought to you by early TV and movie western). It makes for an easy conflict where each side knows whom to shoot and the audience doesn’t need to learn which side to cheer on. With horror stories, no matter whether the good guys win or not, it’s usually just as easy. Monsters are bad, humans are good.

And then there is Brian Helsing. Who, first of all, actually isn’t Brian Helsing. It’s not his name, his last name is Trelawney. He is the Helsing, the vampire and overall monster hunter. It’s a job description. Brian also isn’t a warrior and sure as hell doesn’t want to be the Helsing. But he has put on the ring and now he is the Helsing until the day he dies, when another one, number 14, will take over. It’s pretty much like Buffy, but with more than one watcher (there’s four masters teaching and assisting him plus a whole order to work with) and a slightly longer life expectancy for most of the bearers of the Helsing title (Helsing XII, his predecessor, was in his sixties when he died). And despite not wanting the job and being afraid of doing it, Brian sticks with his work, he grows and learns, becoming a more powerful Helsing with every book.

At the beginning of almost every mission (not his holiday-turned-mission in Egypt, of course), Brian is told the basics about the monster he’s sent after and usually given what the Master of Technology thinks will work best. If magic is an issue, Brian also gets a bit of magic coaching from the Master of Magic (and usually a host of bruises from the Master of Combat as well). If the monster has already been faced and a corpse has been retrieved, a trip to the bestiary with the Master of the Bestiary follows. Prepared thus, Brian is sent on his way and has to deal with things on his own.

As mentioned, though, Brian is no warrior. He used to be a used-car salesman until the day he did a test drive with a vampire and ended up driving her over to save his own life, after she’d mortally wounded Helsing XII. Brian isn’t hot on fighting and, despite being pretty socially inept, usually looks for an alternative way to just killing the monsters.

With the banshee in the first story, that goes without saying, since a ghost can’t be killed. Brian is supposed to calm her down and tell her there’s no reason to stay behind. After almost seeing his only friend Neil killed, however, he instead rants at her to get over having been rejected, since she obviously was a beautiful woman and could have had ten other guys better than the one she’s still moaning over. And about how that happens to everyone and you just accept it and move on - no ‘red pill’ popper, Brian. Believe it or not, it actually works. The banshee gives him a kiss and moves on into the afterlife.

In the second story, Brian is sent out to kill a group of water nymphs who are going to catch, drown, and eat several people in a winter surfing competition. But the first nymph he meets is actually a vegan and very nice and Brian simply doesn’t see how he could kill all the other nymphs without getting really brutal about it. So he drags them away from the competition and talks to them. They are sick of fish and see man-meat (no, not just that part) as the only viable other food source, but once he’s shown them the many types of food humans make, they happily switch to chicken, kebab, and many other human foods instead of feeding on humans. So, instead of killing them, he just gives them another option.

If, however, we as the readers think that’s always going to be the case, the next mission teaches us better. Despite the fact that werewolves are nice enough people when it’s not full moon, they cannot control themselves in the wolf shape and they cannot reliably be kept apart from humans. As much as it pains him, Brian’s only choice here in the end is to kill the whole pack. But even Helsing I, the very first and true bearer of the Helsing name, respects Brian’s tries to find other than final ways. He just also teaches Brian that sometimes (as with hell being unleashed in 10th century Jerusalem) killing them all is the only option. Yet, on the way to the hell gate, we also see Helsing I save a group of Saracen warriors, despite being a crusader himself.

In Japan, Brian learns that he, as the Helsing, is judge, jury, and executioner rolled into one and it’s ultimately his decision who is guilty and who has to die. So it’s not the kappa he is killing in the end, it’s the sorcerer who enslaved it and used it as a tool. The kappa itself is free to return to its home, far from humans, and live its life.

This whole ‘I decide who’s the guilty party’ theme returns in the next novel, where Brian is sent out to kill Black Annis, the most wicked witch of Scotland, who is supposed to steal and eat children to stay young. It turns out that Annis, despite being an outrageously powerful witch, actually isn’t evil. After having materialized her powers as a young girl and having been beaten cruelly by the nuns who raised her (to ‘beat the magic out of her’), she has spent her considerable life (1,000 years and counting) finding and rescuing children who were mistreated or unwanted, giving them a good and loving home and raising them. It’s the nuns who prove to be a problem which needs to be taken care of for good (but not by violence).

The curse of being the Helsing also follows Brian to his vacation with Aimi, one of the oni-hunters from the fourth novel. His plans for the vacation in Egypt were to sleep, drink, have sex (if possible), and just relax. Fate’s plans for the vacation were a djin, a kraken, several golems, mummies, and a powerful, centuries-old sorcerer looking for one of the artefacts Brian will need to keep Cthulu from rising from its sleep. Which shows fate is not going to give Brian any time off, no matter what the order thinks about it. And he has to do all that while making sure the last descendant of Helsing I by blood and his husband are not going to die while adventuring. His takeout of one of the golems shows how much his control over the ring has grown: he slows down time for a long while, which would probably have killed him when he learned about it in the previous novel - just as creating enough heat to turn a djin (a being of sand and wind) into glass should have made his head explode.

A big change in tone and in the bestiary as we’ve known it so far comes with the next novel and Brian’s trip to the vampire circus. For the first time, it’s not the occasional vampire, who mostly doesn’t pose much of a threat, or Cassandra, who is there to remind Brian very much of how weak he still is. It’s a whole circus full of vampires and the occasional other supernatural creature, such as a merman. With this novel, two things change in the world of “Brian Helsing.” First of all, Brian is for the first time forced to dig deep into the darkest parts of his soul, finding his ruthlessness and his cruelty, because otherwise he won’t be able to defeat a Pure Blood (third generation vampires, extremely powerful, Cassandra is one of them) or something even stronger (like a second generation Prime, made by the first vampire Drakul himself). He doesn’t like what he finds there, but he learns to use it, nevertheless. The second thing is vampires. There are a lot of them in the circus, but about half of them, including Bob whom Brian spends some time with, make sure not to kill or, barring that, only to live off those who deserve death (such as dangerous criminals or death-row inmates). And after facing down three Pure Bloods (plus a fourth before he gets the training) and a Prime, Brian lets those walk away before killing the rest of the circus crew - proving again that the world he lives in is not black and white and that Brian isn’t just a vampire hunter. He is judge, jury, and executioner and thus he decides whom to kill and whom to let live.

The important lesson to take away from the series isn’t just ‘how to do the unlikely hero right’ (although it does so well). It’s also how to do something which should be all black and white and do it with nuances, with many, many shades of grey (certainly more than 50). Brian isn’t just killing everything not human. He kills humans who deserve it (like the sorcerers in Japan and Egypt), but he also lets non-humans who are no threat live (like the water nymphs, the kappa, Black Annis, or the vampires who still respect humans as a species instead of only considering them a meal). And he doesn’t just feel righteous about killing. He feels guilty as hell in some cases, horrible enough to get physically sick. But he still does it, because he is the defender of the innocent, no matter of what species.

‘Black vs. white’ is an old tradition and there are a lot of stories which work very well that way. But you’ll get more interesting stories if you consider breaking it up. Even in genres which lend themselves to the ‘black vs. white’ approach, it can be very interesting not to use it.

Brian Helsing Review

After reading my way through the novels in a hurry, I felt compelled to write a review about the series “Brian Helsing: The World’s Unlikeliest Vampire Hunter.” I’m still compelled to write it. For one thing, the series is extremely funny (especially if you like Discworld or the Myth Adventures series). I’m not saying author Gareth K. Pengelly is equal in ability to the great and sadly deceased Sir Terry (may the clacks forever carry his name), but he manages to write a really good series with a really unusual main character. And to do so with fun, geeky references, and a lot of good action to boot.

Brian Trelawney is not exactly what you’d call hero material. At the beginning of the first novel, he’s a used-car salesman who doesn’t even own a car, but drives to work on an old, unreliable moped. He’s tall, but lanky, so more of a stick figure than of a hulk. He’s horribly bad at everything which demands social skills (which doesn’t exactly make him a good car salesman). He’s clumsy and not good with money, either. In short: he’s the kind of guy who croaks as one of the first in a horror movie or only survives by pure luck. In his case, though, his survival of a test drive has more to do with his neurosis-wracked brain being immune to the glamour many supernatural creatures, specifically vampires in this case, are capable of. That’s why he’s still alive by the time a vampire hunter turns up and faces off against the vampire in question (Cassandra, who will continue to be a pain in Brian’s arse) and dies. Brian manages to drive the vampire off by driving over her (although the UV grenade the dying vampire hunter throws also has something to do with that) and just comes at the right moment to be entrusted with a strange ring - which he puts on several hours later, after a talk with his best friend in the pub. A little later than that and high on weed, he kills his first vampire, more by accident than by design. And on the next day, he meets up with the masters behind the Order behind Helsing - for that is who he has now become, whether he likes it or not.

The first novel plays off well against the expectations of the audience. Neil, the good-looking, womanizing friend of Brian’s should actually be the hero, that much is for sure. He’s in good shape, looks the part, and has much less fear, neurosis, or other troubles to deal with, too. But it’s Brian who puts on the ring and can’t take it off again. It’s Brian who was chosen, both by the ring and by his predecessor, Helsing XII. And, unlike your regular movie about the loser turning hero, we don’t get a quick training montage which ends with Brian being the worthy successor to his predecessors (12 overall so far, obviously), we merely get a Brian who does his best to channel the powers of the ring (which do give him the necessary skills, stored there for use) and to stay alive during his meeting with a banshee. Brian, that much is obvious, is on a long, winding, and painful road to becoming a hero - and one who had no say whatsoever in his rise to that status. Brian doesn’t want to be a vampire hunter. He would even prefer being killed so the ring could be passed on to going out there and facing creatures like that vampire who almost did him in and got him fired (imagine the look of a used mini after a vampire dug her talons in it and then imagine a boss who isn’t too happy with Brian before it all happens). In short: he acts as most of us normal people would probably act in his situation. But giving up isn’t an option, so over time, Brian comes to terms with being Helsing, the hunter of all monsters. Only, not all supernatural creatures are monsters. Some merely misunderstand the use people can have or are manipulated by humans.

The great thing about the series - well, one of the great things about the series - is that it shows the audience how Brian is growing. Not in a quick montage, but over the course of the books. Brian doesn’t snap his fingers and becomes the perfect vampire hunter. Neither does the Master of Magic do so. Brian learns. He learns to trust the ring and the powers stored there (such as the experience of the 12 before him). He learns to make good use of the strength and reaction speed which has been fed to his body by that ring. He learns to trust himself, not to be that neurotic and afraid of everything. He learns that he is more than he thought before - and not because of the ring. His inborn abilities are what has drawn the ring to him, not to Neil or anyone else. He grows more comfortable in his own tall and lanky body, more ready to shoulder the immense responsibility of being Helsing. And, since he’s not a trained warrior, unlike his predecessors, he’s more likely to look for other solutions than the flaming sword (which he has) or any of the many weapons the masters can set him up with. He may, indeed, be the Helsing for the new millennium.

Another thing which is just as important as Brian’s growth, however, is the wealth of supporting characters. Whether the four masters, his friend Neil, his girlfriend Scylla (who is a water nymph and later on his ex), the weapon smith Frank (who is more than one might expect), the oni-hunter Aimi, or even his pain in the arse Cassandra (who is unusually powerful even for a vampire, being very old and very closely related to the first one), they all have distinct characters and don’t only exist to hand him stuff or look up at him adoringly.

Then, finally, there is a wealth of references in the books, from Brian referring to the spirit of his direct predecessor whom he can talk to through reflective surfaces as his personal Obi-Wan over the games he plays right to various cultural references. That coupled with the great humour and Brian’s rather irreverent thoughts makes for a very good and funny read.

I’ve enjoying myself very much, reading the series (seven are out so far and I intent to continue with future ones). The books aren’t horribly long, but that’s good, because it means they don’t drag. Every book is also focused on one type of enemy (unless they’re vampires, apparently, those just turn up), so Brian has yet to meet a lot of different supernatural creatures. So far, he’s met vampires, a banshee, a few water nymphs, a pack of werewolves, a kappa, a witch, a middle-eastern sorcerer, and a full circus of vampires and other supernatural beings. The author does a good job with making sure Brian, despite having mastered channelling ley-lines in the third novel, will not become a confident, perfect monster hunter in a hurry. And that’s good, because being Helsing despite not being a badass warrior is what makes him such an interesting character.

With the books not overly long and the first one free at Amazon, I can only recommend “Brian Helsing: The World’s Unlikeliest Vampire Hunter” for your reading pleasures. The stories are fun to read, the characters have their quirks, and the situations are mad in an enjoyable way. While I wouldn’t want to live Brian’s life, I sure as hell enjoy reading about it.

What Makes Wome Strong

A lot of people go on record demanding ‘strong women’ for new stories, but that’s not necessarily what we get, because quite some people also misunderstand what ‘strong’ means in this case. It’s not about making badass female heroes who kick ass and take names (although we surely can do with those as well). It’s about making female characters with a strong agenda and allowing them to follow it.

The misunderstanding of the term ‘strong women’ leads to a lot of token strong women. Women who are introduced as badass warriors with amazing skills, but seem to misplace all of their training, weapons, and experience as soon as the hero turns up, becoming damsels without any agenda who are only defined by the hero and the villain and their actions. Those are not strong women, no matter how many different weapons they can wield at the beginning.

On the other side, a woman doesn’t need to be physically strong to count as a ‘strong woman.’ Depending on the setting and her background, she can just as well be a petite lady who has never wielded anything heavier than a fan. If her agenda is strong and she follows it with all she has at her disposal, then she still is a ‘strong woman.’

What does that mean for you as a writer? Well, first of all, you need to keep a close eye on your characters and make sure every major character has an agenda of their own. Only the hero really does have to reach their goals, but other characters should have more motivation than just helping the hero (or hindering them) as well. There will, of course, be minor characters whose only job it is to sell your hero some provisions or tell them the quickest way to their next destination. Those don’t need an agenda, but everyone who really is someone in your story needs one. That goes for the love interest, for the best friend, for the villain, for the villain’s right hand, and everyone else whose actions have a major impact on the story. The women you have in your story, no matter their roles, should definitely have an agenda, too, and follow it as much as possible.

Strangely enough, a good example for that is the movie “The Assassins’ Bureau,” despite its age. Its female lead, journalist-in-the-making Sonia, does have a clear agenda and follows that as far as it leads her, changing her agenda when the situation, and not only the male lead, demands it. She wants to become a journalist and sees a story about the mysterious Assassins’ Bureau, where you can order a murder just as easily as you would order another service, as a good one. And let’s be honest - if that story ever got written, it would definitely pave the way for her as the first female journalist working for any London newspaper. She changes her plans only when it becomes apparent that both she and the head of the Bureau have been used by her possible future boss (who happens to be on the Bureau’s board himself) and saving the peace becomes more important than just writing the story. Sonia (played wonderfully by Diana Rigg, one of my favourite actresses of all time) proves resourceful, within the limits placed on her by her gender and upbringing, and very tenacious, which would certainly make her a good journalist. She does not have any fighting experience (unlike her former character of Ms. Emma Peele in “The Avengers”) and is not presented as physically imposing or physically strong. But she’s not reduced to the love interest of the movie’s male lead either. They meet, they sass, she follows him like a shadow, because he’s her actual story, and they save the peace together in the end (although she arrives a bit late).

So if you want to write a ‘strong woman’ for your story, remember that it’s not about physical strength. Of course, if you want to write about a female warrior, there’s no reason not to, but the prowess with a sword is not what makes her a ‘strong woman’ in the context of the story. Her strong agenda will make her a strong woman. She will remain independent from the male lead after they meet and still aim to reach her own goals. She will go along with him if the situation demands it or if it furthers her own plans, but not just because the hero of the story has just arrived and she will now drop everything (including her skills and experience) to follow him to the end of the world.

Which reminds me of the often overlooked fairy tale about the Salt Prince. In it, the princess is a ‘strong woman,’ too, because she doesn’t spend all her time sitting in a tower and waiting for her prince. After learning he’s been turned to stone by his father for being with her, she leaves her home (well, she’s cast out, but she doesn’t care about that after learning what happened to the prince) and wanders the earth in search of a way underground, so she can go to his father’s kingdom and beg for him to be released. She goes through a lot of trouble and a lot of dangers, which she masters with empathy, kindness, and perseverance. She is not a warrior, but she is a perfect fairy tale princess who actually does something for her ‘happily ever after’ unlike Snow White or Sleeping Beauty (and much more than Cinderella, too). Yes, she’s not going to confront the Salt Prince’s father - but how do you confront a guy who can turn people to stone, if you’re merely human? But she is going all the way to do her best to convince him - and she succeeds. And then she returns to her father’s kingdom and saves him as well, so she’s really good at saving people overall, despite not knowing which end of a sword to grab.

If you want to write a strong woman, write a really strong woman. A woman with a goal and enough perseverance to reach it. A woman who won’t give up her own agenda just for the guy who happens to be the hero of the story. Make her a warrior, if you want to. But also keep in mind that it’s not a necessity.