Plot or Be Plotted: Adventures in Deep Software Space
By Deanna Carlyle 2002        

One idiot savant.

200,000 lines of software code.

And the plot thickens.

It's not that I'm afraid of plotting software--I just don't want to be there when it replaces me. This is why last year, at a loss for an emergency plot solution, I set out to learn Dramatica Pro 4.0 in three days. What I experienced during that time left me a trembling mass of jelly and nerves, scarred for life. Would I do it again? By all means.

Here's why...

The Inciting Incident

Saturday, March 10, 9:33 a.m.

"... and they lived happily ever after," I said pitch-perfect. Across from me at the conference table the agent's eyelids fluttered over his glazed brown eyes.

"Interesting," he said, and my heart sank. He made a note on his Palm Pilot screen while I slouched lower onto the hard, cold chair, my temples pounding.

He hated my story, that much was clear. He hated it and he thought I was a hopeless doof. Who was I kidding? I should never have come to this conference, I should never have made this appointment, I should never have--

"Do you have anything else?" he said, interrupting my thoughts. "Something a little... funnier?"

Halleluiah! The heavens parted, the angels sang, my nylons gave an excited rasp. "As a matter of fact, my writing partner and I are working on a dark comedy called Fear and Dating in Paris."

"What's it about?"

A drop of sweat fell from my armpit to my waist. I was about to tell him the manuscript wasn't ready, when I remembered the Dramatica Pro box that had been sitting on the shelf by my desk for over five months. Of course. Why hadn't I thought of it before? Dramatica could help us whip up a synopsis.

The agent was waiting, so I mumbled something about mistaken identity, murder and chick lit. "It's got two romances. One bad and one good. Not that the bad one is badly written. It's just--"

"Can you send a partial by express mail right after the conference?"

I noticed my mouth hanging open. "Express mail?"

He checked his watch, tucked the Palm Pilot into his briefcase. "I'd like it by next Friday. Is that a problem?"

"Problem?" I said, gulping. "Who said it was a problem?"

My Writing Partner Jumps Ship

Sunday, March 11, 8:12 p.m.

When I got home from the conference the first thing I did was dial my writing partner's number.

"Forget it," Tessa said in her breathy voice when I told her about our big break. "It won't work. You're putting too much faith in this Dramatica thing."

"Dramantica Pro," I quoted from the software box, "the complete step-by-step writing system."

"No book or software will give us our story. Only we can do that." 

"Listen to this." I rattled off the glowing quotes from the back of the box. "It's just what we need."

"What we need is more time."

"If we both get organized, we can do it."

Her long exhale crackled over the line. "Stop looking outside for answers. We have to look inside."

"We haven't sold any stories that way."

"Not because of the method."

"Yes because of the method," I said. "The old way is too messy, and we lose track of theme and pacing. We need Dramatica."

"Sorry, I'm just not a plotter."

"You can learn."

"Count me out." She hesitated. "In fact, count me out for good."

"What?"

"We're just too different. You're a plotter, I'm a pantser."

My heart sank. After two years of collaboration, she was bailing out. And all because she refused to try something new.

Well, what did she expect me to do? Not use the tools I needed? Much as I regretted her decision, I couldn't be dragged down by her writing block. I had a synopsis to write.

Welcome to the Future

Same day, 8:30 p.m.

I installed Dramatica and clicked on the "StoryGuide" button. A screen the size of an index card popped up:

Welcome to the World of Dramatica.

I smiled to myself and continued scanning the instructions.

Be prepared for a little frustration.

"Okay," I told my new writing partner, "but only a little."

Be prepared to have fun.

"Are we having fun yet?"

I skipped ahead until I came to the warning part:

The downside is time. The learning curve is steep.

"How much time?" I asked.

Story development with Dramatica usually takes three to four days, but it can easily take much longer if you go into great detail.

Mental Note: Do not go into detail.

But everything worth mastering has its challenges. With Dramatica the payoff is gold.

"I'll drink to that." I took a swig of diet Pepsi and got to work.

First Snag

10:27 p.m.

I was humming along just fine, filling in all the data entry fields when I hit my first snag:

Prompt: What's your story about?

Me: Huh?

Prompt: Briefly describe any underlying meaning you want the audience of "Fear and Dating in Paris" to experience:

Me:The underlying meaning? I hadn't thought about that.

Help Menu: Click on the Usage and Theory buttons below for explanation and examples.

Me: Neato. A guided tour.

And so it went. Every time I ran into a prompt I didn't understand, I read up on it in the theory and usage area to figure out how to frame my answer. No sweat. At this rate, I'd have this synopsis finished in no time.

But when I looked up again from my work, the sky was dark outside my window. The clock read 4:43 a.m. I had just spent six hours with Dramatica, and according to the little bar graph that tracked my progress, I'd barely made a dent.

I got out my calculator and did the math.

Sound of my forehead hitting the desk.

At my current rate of progress my synopsis wouldn't be ready for another three weeks.

Mental note: Skip the theory and usage. Go directly to data entry.

What Hath the Programmer Wrought?

Monday, March 12, 2:18 p.m.

By the next afternoon I'd decided I would ignore Dramatica when it insisted that my main character and impact character could not both change during the course of the story. What was Dramatica thinking? Certainly both hero and heroine could change! It happened to humans all the time: Lover meets beloved and through her influence he learns to love. And vice versa.

At a loss with Dramatica, I considered calling my ex-writing partner for advice. But when I remembered her recent email I changed my mind. In her gushing, new-agey lingo, she'd claimed that her latest story synopsis was coming together swimmingly, "like a gift from unseen hands."

Who needed her preaching? I had a whole Yahoo group of Dramatica users to help me solve my plot problem.

Clearly the end was in sight.

Now if I could just keep my eyes open long enough to see it.

Parlez-vous Dramatica?

Monday, 3:30 p.m.

To: DramaStoryUser@groups.yahoo.com

From: escribo@t-online.net

Subject: Help!

Hi, DramaStoryUsers,

I'm new to this listserv, so please excuse my newbie question.

Here's my problem: According to Dramatica, my story's Overall Thematic Conflict is "sense of self" vs. "state of being." I looked up these terms in the glossary, but I still can't figure out what they mean.

How is this thematic conflict supposed to be solved by my main character during the climax scene?

Yours in Dramatica,

:) Deanna

Here are the responses I received to my plea, in order of increasing incomprehensibility (fictionalized).

1) Print out the "kitchen sink" report and it'll make more sense.

2) You're confusing the Overall Thematic Conflict with the Main Character's Thematic Conflict. They're not the same.

3) You obviously don't understand Dramatica.I suggest reading the theory book (under the help menu). It's about 150 pages long and the best book on Story I've ever read.

As if I had time.

Here's what the Dramatica 'Themes Report' had to say to my question:

The Overall character perspectives come into conflicts that are moved forward by State of Being, and held back by Conditioning, while the distance to the goal is measured by changes in Conceiving an Idea.

Oookaaay.

Back to the control panel I go. Maybe if I just change a few more story engine settings...

Getting with the Program

Wednesday, March 14, 4:56 p.m.

That's when paranoia set in.

Hal and Big Blue had nothing on this program. I tell you, the thing is evil. It pretends it's trying to cooperate, but just when you think you've got it mastered, it turns around and changes the story engine to suit its internal logic.

Like just now when I tried to make the main character's problem "Desire" and it told me that the character solution was "Ability." And I can't change that. It's hard wired into the circuitry. Now supposing I don't want the solution to be "Ability?" What if I want it to be "Abnegation" or "Self-love," or something like that? Well, too bad for me. I just have to get with the program.

This thing has an agenda: to prove that it's smarter than I am.

But I'm on to it.

I can outsmart it.

Because I'm human.

Because I can think outside the box.

Because I'm a glorious creation, a carbon-based, electrochemical tribute to... Grrrr... Grumble... Aw, hell, I'm hungry. Let's see what's in the fridge.

This Ain't No Video Game

Wednesday, 5:17 p.m.

I came armed for the next round against Dramatica in full battle regalia: A weightlifter's belt strapped to my waist, a brace on each wrist, a jar of No-Doze in one hand, and a nutritious dinner in the other.

"All right, you measly piece of putty-colored Zero K. I've had just about enough of your smarmy insinuations. If you're so smart, then how come you can't come up with a crisis scene for my story?"

The laptop whined and puffed. Its ventilation fan had been on all day. Poor thing.

"I've got a plateful of Cheese Whizzes here and a jumbo bottle of tomato juice," I informed the Dramatica menu screen, "I could stay holed up here all night. So don't even think about getting pesky."

I toggled to the StoryGuide window and popped a Cheese Whiz in my mouth, grinning at the screen.

"You're just a glorified thesaurus, know that?"

Whirring sounds.

"All right, Mr. Personality, let's get this show on the road. If you've got the themes, I've got the nerves. "

Five minutes later all Dramatica had come up with was this zinger:

Something happens to cause the Protagonist/Main Character to doubt his/her ability to achieve the story goal.

"Oh great, Teflon brain, that's about as useful as powdered coffee in the desert."

I changed a value in the story engine and checked the report screen again to see what Dramatica had to say about it:

Conditioning is the thematic focus. This contrasts with the main vs. impact thematic counterpoint of instinct.

"Huh? Where did 'Instinct' come from?" I went back to the story engine, changed the story solution, from "Ability" to "Force" and quickly hit the lock button. But Dramatica had something else in mind. An error message popped up.

Your entry is incorrect. Please reenter the data.

"What do you mean, incorrect? All you have to do is change the setting."

I reentered "Force" and slammed down on the return key.

Your entry is incorrect. Please reenter the data.

Somewhere deep in my belly a growl began to vibrate. It crept to my lungs and rose to a primal roar. Arrrrgh! An atavistic Luddite spirit possessed my arms and hands and before I knew it, I'd snatched up the laptop, lifted it overhead and smashed it to the floor, yelling something about, "My data is too correct!"

I stood swaying above the laptop, awed by the display of fireworks and smoke pouring from the A-drive, where my back-up diskette used to be.

"No!" I sank to my knees, cradled the burnt laptop with my wrist braces. A teardrop hissed on the keyboard, evaporating before I could wipe it away.

"This is what I get for being human."

Game Over, You Lose

Wednesday, 6:33 p.m.

No critique partner.

No computer.

No back-up diskette.

No synopsis.

No clue how to reconstruct it.

Name will be dirt with big time agent.

Will never get a chance like this again.

Will never figure out how the story ends.

Or what it means.

Will never be a real writer.

6:51 p.m.

Just remembered something my critique partner said the last time we talked, something about: "Stop looking outside for answers. You have to look inside."

How right she was. But unlike my cp, when I looked inside I didn't find answers.

I found only fear and quaking despair.

So where did that leave me?

2001 Theme Music

8:29 p.m.

Boom boom, boom boom.

A thought was rolling down the bowling alley of my mind. All ten pins quivered, and I thought I heard the theme music from 2001.

Boom boom, boom, boom.

What was it Dramatica had said about Story? Something about a StoryMind: A complete story is like a single mind at work finding the solution to a single problem.

Boom boom, boom boom.

Taaaaa, taaaaa, taaaa, daaaaa.

Boom boom, boom boom.

So maybe all those themes and throughlines are like my brain looking at a problem from every angle?

Boom boom, boom boom.

And all those characters are like my inner committee trying to come to a decision? Like voices in my head?

Boom boom, boom boom.

I felt like a cringing ape bracing itself for the electric shock.

I reached out and embraced the StoryMind concept.

Ta, Ta, Ta Daaaaa!

Veni, Vidi, Scripsi

My inner landscape did a flip-flop. All at once I could see through my protagonist's eyes and, amazingly, through the reader's eyes too. I was looking out at my story world. No longer a stick figure in a three-act chart, I moved through my story's rooms, opening doors onto scenes and back story exposition. I lived and breathed my themes, which only apparently led me astray. Up ahead, in the last room of the house--the one I'd been forbidden to enter--I would face my greatest fear. I pushed open the door and knew exactly what I had to do.

Take a potty break.

Then I would call my cp, apologize abjectly, and ask if I could install Dramatica on her computer.

Live and Let Dramatica

Thursday, March 15, 7:46 p.m.

A team again, Tessa and I combined our intuition with Dramatica's guiding concepts. During a feverish fifteen-hour writing marathon, we reconstructed the synopsis, proofread our sample chapters, and mailed off the submission minutes before the post office closed.

Then we went to Denny's and drank a bottle of André, toasting by turns Dramatica and good old-fashioned human ingenuity.

Now all we had to do was wait, but if I learned anything from Dramatica, it's patience.

Patience and faith.

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