Which Story Structure Should You Use?

Our brains naturally seek order. We want to put together instances, images, actions, evidence, imagination, and more to understand, satisfy our curiosities, assess safety and danger, learn lessons, connect, and have emotional experiences.

As a storyteller, structure is your main tool for bringing order. Clarity is a primary responsibility because many people will lose confidence in the tale and abandonment if they can't make sense of it. Or if there's not, at the very least, the promise of making sense. So linear storytelling, which is the primary way most people explain the world to themselves, is the most common structure. There is often a rigorous logic: this happened, so this happened, so this happened, but then this happened. As the chain is built, more is revealed to the reader/audience.

But every moment isn't linear. We reference past experiences throughout our days. We anticipate, project, and imagine possible futures. We dream and daydream to edit, sort, and play with our realities. So many linear stories are interrupted by flashbacks, flashforwards, considerations, memories, evaluations, and distortions.

When enough of these interruptions to the linear narrative find their ways into a story, that story becomes nonlinear. A movie like Pulp Fiction has multiple threads that are presented without concern about chronology. A movie like Memento works backwards. There are circular structures and many other variations, as well.

So, how does this fit with the idea clarity? The answer is that stories are not mathematical equations. Often, part of the fun is engaging with the story by putting the pieces together and making discoveries and finding new meanings along the way. We enjoy surprises, revelations, and finding answers for ourselves. And we’re willing to put in the work and deal with a certain amount of uncertainty to experience that fun. Writers who have content that can pay off in this way (and audiences who enjoy it) will push beyond the linear as far as they can.

But thrilling and inviting participation and providing aha! experiences don't explain everything. Many subtle works which would never be considered mysteries or adventures or surrealistic stories play with story structure to enhance understanding and intensify emotions.

A simple example is comic relief. When things get tense or disturbing, a writer will often insert a funny moment. Why? Because we naturally protect ourselves against big emotions. The moment of comic relief distracts us from the emotions (often dark) that are building so that when the payoff comes we are unguarded.

There are many ways that structure contributes to emotions. Repeated sequences can become rituals to unlock feelings. And they can become even richer when the sequence is turned or broken after it’s learned. Sometimes parallel stories are placed so that comparison is invited (as I mentioned recently in my analysis of Catch Me If You Can). Even characters returning to a place can invite comparison with their last visit there, causing us to reflect on how things changed.

Exposition is often provided out of sequence because its natural placement lacks a context that demonstrates its value. Where information is placed, as every mystery writer knows, can make it memorable or allow it to hide in plain sight.

Storytellers also use another trick, choosing the point of view. For instance, a law story may shift point of view so that the character who is most vulnerable during interaction (say, a love scene) becomes the point of view character — enhancing the emotional impact for readers/audiences. This also can be used for ironic effect. Information presented from another character's point of view may tell us that something observed, missed, or experienced by a different character is more important than he or she realizes.

Very few stories play out in real time. Most have the dull parts cut out. Often this deviation from strict adherence to time is used for pacing. But it's not just editing. The placement of certain events can be used to manage pacing as well, disregarding the actual order of events. This is one of the uses of flashbacks.

The concept of pride of place is important, too. Where things show up – the beginning, the end, in association with a highly emotional scene – provides clues to how much they matter in the narrative. Some moments set up in support, while others are the jewels we came for. And we've learned there are times special things happen, and we lean in when stories reach those times.

Structure may also serve a purpose beyond the main story – spectacle. This can be as obvious as the insertion of car chases, explosions, and sex scenes, added to spice things up. But, especially in movies, the disruption in the story may have the purpose of including evocative images. Often these are wonderful in and of themselves, but more sophisticated storytellers will include them to suggest themes.

Images and dialogue and story logic and all the other parts of experiencing the story can be shifted around in delightful and novel ways, as long as they don't lose the attention of readers/audiences. Now, nothing satisfies everyone. Some people were delighted by the apparent chaos of Inception. Others found it tedious and unrewarding.

I should mention that sometimes the audience is the writer. A structure can provide the scaffolding some writers need and help them to focus in on what will work. I often use stories I love or that feel related to my topics as models to get me started or bring order to the ideas, characters, and moments that are rattling around in my brain. Usually (but not always), those structures survive the revision. But whether they persist or not, they raise questions, provide ways to challenge my ideas, and point me in directions worth exploring.

Another use of structure is to get attention. If you can present a satisfying story in a new or unexpected way, you have a powerful tool making your story stand out. Because people notice anything that is unusual. That’s a good practical reason for playing with structure, but notice the proviso:  present a satisfying story.

Which story structure should you use? Look through the options above (and what they provide), play with them, and make your choice based on what fits your purpose and your story (juxtaposition is almost always worth considering). Be open to make a strange choice, but return to the basics before you put your story out into the world: clarity, attention, and emotion.