As a memoir ghostwriter, I use story arcs extensively to structure memoirs. There are many compelling reason why memoir writers should use them to create memorable stories.

Memoir writers, novelists, memoirists, and storytellers in general can use character arcs to create meaningful stories that are thematically unified. Whether you begin your story with In today’s storyverse, the character is inseparable from the structure. As K.M. Weiland clarifies for us in her seminal book, Creating Character Arcs, “The character drives the plot, and the plot molds the character’s arc. They cannot work independently.”

Writing to reader expectations

Readers expect a full-length story to have characters that do something, learn something, go somewhere, discover a truth about themselves, or someone else solves a mystery, fights to the death, lives happily ever after, or dies trying. The main character can be a lion, a lizard, a turtle, or a wizard, but you gotta have at least one.

When character and plot work together in a narrative euphony, what do we have? For one, we have Charles Dickens. The master of an imaginary world powered by memorable characters in treacherous terrain, politically, morally, physically. We have Pip with his Magwitch, and his life-altering expectations, we have a bitter Miss Havisham and the beautiful but cold Estella. We have characters who do fascinating things, a story that stands the test of time, and that takes us out of ourselves.

That raises the question if one wants to write a compelling story that will become memorable, where do you begin. With plot? With a character?

A friend told me that C.S. Lewis began his Chronicles of Narnia with a single solitary image, a fawn standing beside a lamppost.

That’s it.

How does a writer eke out seven volumes of the epic adventure from a single fawn?

Writers at this point have options. You can muddle through with an idea here, an idea there, write bits on post-it-notes and tack them up in some order on a wall, or just trust your creative genius to take off. But what if it doesn’t? You could do character studies; fill out forms, and that sort of wheel spinning. Or you can approach creating in a more orderly and productive fashion.

I don’t believe it’s productive for writers to spend any time wrestling with the worn out argument over what comes first, the chicken or the egg. The highest struggle a writer can undertake is to get a goose to lay a golden egg. The golden egg of storytelling is a character with a well-defined emotional arc, one that appears organic to the events and personalities involved, and satisfactorily answers the dramatic questions posed in the opening sequences. A well-crafted character arc will give a storyteller all the material and then some to launch a novel or a memoir. A unified story consists of character and plot doing their dance of love on the grand stage you’ve created.

What is a story arc?

K.M. Weiland in her excellent craft book, Creating Character Arcs: The Masterful Author’s Guide to Uniting Structure, Plot, and Character Development explains in precise detail what a character is, and how to construct three different kinds: The Positive Change Arc, the Flat Arc, and the Negative

Change Arc. In the change arcs, the protagonists are changed by the adventures in either positive or negative ways. In the Flat Arc, the protagonist changes minimally, but the world around him is changed. This distinction immediately allows you to get a clear picture of what kind of story your writing and enable you to write to your audience.

Some craft books touch on the subject of arcs, include arcs as a chapter, or mention the principle. It is not merely the hero’s journey rehashed. It is the hero’s journey reformulated into a guide to the inner story. This is the first book I’ve read that isolates this particular craft element and shows us, systematically, the details of constructing character arcs.

Why do you need to read another craft book?

Character arcs are the unifying principle of contemporary storytelling. That includes novels, memoirs, movies, and TV series. All the art forms of modern storytelling, even corporate communications, and, yes, I dare say it, advertising, has taken up the craft of story arcs.

What is all the fuss over story arcs?

Because there is no better way to communicate a truth than through an emotional experience. And a well-conceived and executed story arc is all about the emotional truth of your story. As a memoir writer, I have found her method of constructing arcs very adaptable to the life stories I work with. The memoir has evolved into a highly structured tale of positive or negative change.

Her contention in the book is that if one takes a cavalier or simplistic approach to create a character’s arc, and instead focus on plot and character as separate entities your story will suffer from disunity. Without a clear arc of change, either positive or negative, the underlying theme of the story will never emerge. The theme is the implied meaning of the story that’s arrived at without utilizing preaching or a pedantic approach to craft. Character, plot, and theme exist together in a symbiotic stew. When we roll all three into a cohesive whole, she states that,

Once you understand how plot, character, and theme all work together, chances are good that, if you get one of them right, you’ll get all of them right. (pg. 17)

Creating a character arc for each of the main characters will unify the critical elements of your story, plot, character, and theme. The unique feature of Creating Character Arcs is Weiland’s focus on core tools to create a credible arc for your main character. She does this in the form of questions.

What’s different about planning a story using Character Arcs?

Weiland begins with the inner story, the psychology driving the character to launch a personal journey that will mortise expertly into the outer journey the protagonist must take to compose the three-act structure. This approach differs from the typical advice to begin outlining based on the three-act structure (the outer story), the hero’s journey, or some other structured method.

By starting your brainstorming with the inner journey, character becomes structure, and the structure, in turn, changes either the world or the character. Creating a satisfying story. The highest craftsmanship in any piece of handmade furniture or item always has the tightest joints; pieces slip together so perfectly it is difficult to see the seams. That’s what happens when character, plot, and theme all work as one.

What about Stephen King?

I’m tracking with you. I know you’re thinking of the master storyteller who so righteously claimed in his book on writing that he never outlines. Thus leaving the masses of us to believe he doesn’t give careful thought to what he’s writing before he sets pen to paper. I do believe he doesn’t take out a fresh sheet of paper and number the points—first, this happens and so on. But in no way does he just wing it.

Look at the opening to King’s bestselling novel, 11/23/63.

 

“I have never been what you’d call a crying man.

My ex-wife said that my “nonexistent emotional gradient” was the main reason she was leaving me (as if the guy she met in her AA meetings was beside the point). Christy said she supposed she could forgive me for not crying at her father’s funeral; I had only known him for six years and couldn’t understand what a wonderful, giving man he had been….But then, when I didn’t cry at my own parents’ funerals— they died just two years apart, Dad of stomach cancer and Mom of a thunderclap heart attack while walking on a Florida beach—she began to understand the nonexistent gradient thing. I was ‘unable to feel my feelings,’ in   AA speak.”

Hey, where’s the action?

The king of horror begins a fantastic novel inside a man’s inner story. He begins by laying out the protagonist’s wound—the lie his ex-wife laid on him when she packed her bags and took up with another man. It takes the entire book to undo that lie. The protagonist does not save President Kennedy as the outer story attempts, but he does save himself from a life of loveless loneliness. The change arc is putty in the master’s hands. He leaves us with the sense he simply whipped this out, with no forethought.

Maybe he did. Perhaps he’s such an intuitive writer that he doesn’t need any prompts. But most of need help.

So my advice is read Weiland’s Chapter 1, “The Lie Your Character Believes,” and you’ll understand exactly what King accomplished in his first paragraph. Having a copy of Creating Character Arcs: The Masterful Author’s Guide to Uniting Story Structure, Plot, and Character Development on your bookshelf is a must. You’ll have all the tools at your fingertips you’ll need to emulate the best and become the best.

 

John DeSimone is a published memoir writer and novelist. He works with clients to perfect their stories, find a publisher, and develop their audience. He can be reached at jrd@johndesimone.com