Tag: story tropes

The Rule of Three: A Strange Ingredient for Storytellers

Image: “Three wise monkeys” by Anderson Mancini, licensed under CC BY 2.0.

What’s the most important number in the world? Let’s count.

One … two … three?

It’s an odd number to be fixated on. But we are. Look around you. Listen. Read. Everything comes in threes. We love things to be presented in trios.

Land, sea, sky. Birth, life, death. Child, adult, elder. Beginning, middle, end. Ready, set, go. Lights, camera, action. I came, I saw, I conquered. See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.

It’s a habit of humanity to divvy things up into threes. Maybe because it’s a nice prime number, like 5 or 7. There’s a pleasant sense of completeness in three, a satisfaction that you can’t quite get with two, and going up to four is a step too far. Three is everywhere, and it’s found a home in our collective psyche. Things always feel right when they’re grouped into threes. Stories feel right.

The number three is storytelling’s superstar. Stories rely on patterns, and the number three is the smallest number you can use to set up a pattern and then deviate from it. Take a glance at fairy tales and note how many times the third brother gets the prize, or how many trials the hero must overcome to succeed, or how many times the evil witch tries to stop him. Set up the expectation and then throw in a twist the third time around.

Good stories tend to be efficient with their time and words. Why go through the same pattern four times to set up the fifth’s deviation, when you can cut out two repetitions and get the same result? Maybe early oral storytellers were just lazy and hit on a good tactic to keep listeners engaged without wearing out their throats.

Either way, if you’re going to be a writer, consider the usefulness of the rule of three. Most stories are divided into three acts: The setup, the middle action, and the climax. Want to reinforce that a plot element is important? Mention it three times: Once to introduce it, a second time to remind your audience of its existence, and a third time for the payoff (alternatively, a third time to reinforce it in audience’s minds, and then give them the payoff).

Remember the oath that witnesses make in court? “Tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me, God.” Here we see the principle in action: “Tell the truth” (introducing the concept to speak truthfully), “the whole truth” (reinforce the concept that you will be honest), “and nothing but the truth, so help me, God” (grinding it into your head that you will tell the truth, doggonit!)

As weird as the rule of three is if you think about it too hard, we’ve been raised on it for so long that it’s been hardwired into most societies. We tend to think in terms of threes when writing, when talking with friends, or even when giving a speech. It’s just such a common, reliable, and trustworthy trope. It’s in schools, it’s in media, it’s even in the academic community.

Ha, ha, yes, I’m so very clever. But you get the point. Don’t you? Need me to repeat it again?

In all seriousness, we humans do like patterns, and the rule of three is such a basic pattern that it fits pretty much anywhere. We recognize it, at least on a subconscious level, because we’ve been exposed to it since childhood. I can make that statement with confidence because it’s just. That. Widespread. And yes, I did just use the rule again to prove my point. Really, this whole article could drown in its own metatext.

Being so common, the rule of three is a reliable standby for writers both beginner and veteran. I use. You use it. And – Well, you get the idea.

The gods and beings of ancient myth never went away. They just moved on with the times.

My book, A God Walks up to the Bar, is currently available on Amazon.com. Venture into the world of the Greek god Hermes, a world filled with demigods, vampires, nymphs, ogres, magic, and trickery. It’s a tough job, being a god!

Enjoying my blog? Don’t want to miss a single post? Subscribe for updates on when I post and follow my writing career, musings on fiction and storytelling, and reflections about life in general!

Villains: Why We Love Such Hateful Scoundrels

Image: Dick Dastardly, doomed to villainy from the day he was named. Wacky Races promotional material, courtesy of Wikipedia, fair use

Last week, I talked about antagonists and their importance to a good story. If you read it, you may have noted that I said antagonists are not necessarily villains. Antagonists are just a roadblock to the hero’s goal.

Today we are going to talk about villains.

What’s the difference? Simple. Villains are EEEEVVVIIILLL. They’re monstrous, greedy, murderous, and rude. They slaughter villages, rob innocents of all their possessions, conquer nations, and say really mean things. We love to hate them. We love villains. Why do we love villains? Why like something so vile?

That question gave me some food for thought, and here’s what I’ve come up with.

1: Villains are charismatic.

Darth Vader knows how to make an entrance. He strides down a hallway littered with corpses, black cape flourishing behind him. His breath is a low mechanical wheeze, and his face is concealed behind a skull-like mask. He casually strangles a rebel while interrogating him, takes charge of every situation, strangles fellow Imperials from a distance while cracking morbidly dry jokes, and in general is a terrifying threat to everyone he meets.

He’s a monster. But he’s a cool monster. He gets the cool armor, the cool lines, every appearance is accompanied by John Williams’s Imperial March, and if he’s not the mascot of the Star Wars franchise, he’s pretty dang close. Why? Because Vader has charisma. He’s memorable, he has stage presence, he has the physical acting of David Prowse and the rumbling baritone of James Earl Jones. Who doesn’t know who Darth Vader is? And how many little kids dress up as this cold-blooded mass murderer every Halloween? Oh, bitter irony! But such is the effect of a charismatic villain.

2. Villains are interesting.

We like to watch or read about interesting people. Ergo, we like to watch or read about interesting villains. Villains with unusual motives, or memorable quirks, or empathetic traits. We like villains who stick out from the mass of mundanity. We like villains who can keep us invested in the plot.

Take old Norman Bates, for example. He’s a psychotic serial killer. Well, nothing new there, fiction loves its depraved killers. But he’s a hotel owner with a split personality, that of his deceased domineering mother, who takes control and kills any woman that Norman expresses an interest in. Well, that’s certainly one form of interesting. What’s more, half the plot of Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho follows him as the main character. And we learn that, sick as he is, he is a tad pitiable as well. That makes him, dare I say, quite interesting to watch.

We generally consume fiction for the purpose of being entertained. And a key part of entertainment consists of simply holding our attention. The best villains grab our attention and never let go. We look forward to seeing them onscreen, especially if they end up more endearing than the cardboard heroes.

3. Villains drive the plot.

Maybe, on some unconscious level, we like villains because we recognize how necessary they are. Villains, like all antagonists, drive the story. If they don’t start it, they at the very least keep it going. Conflict is key, and villains by their nature stir up conflict.

Take the Evil Queen from Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, for instance. There would be no story if she hadn’t gone up to her magic mirror and asked “Who is the fairest of them all?” And then tried to kill Snow White when she learned the girl was fairer than her. Then Snow White wouldn’t have ended up in the dwarfs’ cabin, and the Evil Queen wouldn’t have pursued her disguised as an old hag, and we wouldn’t have had the dwarfs’ climactic scene chasing her up the cliff during a thunderstorm.

There would be no movie. And we would not be entertained.

The gods and beings of ancient myth never went away. They just moved on with the times.

My book, A God Walks up to the Bar, is currently available on Amazon.com. Venture into the world of the Greek god Hermes, a world filled with demigods, vampires, nymphs, ogres, magic, and trickery. It’s a tough job, being a god!

Enjoying my blog? Don’t want to miss a single post? Subscribe for updates on when I post and follow my writing career, musings on fiction and storytelling, and reflections about life in general!

Antagonism: The Types of Conflict that Shape a Story

Featured Image: “Black Knight vs Blue Knight” by tinyfroglet is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Funny thing about conflict: We don’t like it in real life, but we pay money to see people who aren’t real suffer. I mean, what good movie or book doesn’t have some sort of conflict at the heart of the story? The rebel leader fighting the evil empire, or the monster hunter confronting the vampire, or heck, the two lovers trying to overcome the forces keeping them apart. Conflict drives a story. Without it, there’s just nothing worth telling. No opposition, no struggle, no character arc, no story, no nothing.

With that in mind, it’s apparent that the source of conflict is pretty darn important. The protagonist wants something, and something else stands in their way. That “something else” is the antagonist, the source of the conflict. It’s not necessarily a villain. It’s not always another person. It may not even be a living thing. But it is opposed to the protagonist.

We humans are busy little storytellers. We’ve generated a wide variety of tales over the course of the millennia, and that means a variety of antagonistic forces have been invented. Let’s take a look at the basic types, shall we?

Firstly, we have the classic form of the antagonist: Man versus Man. It may not be an actual man against another man, but “Person versus Person” just lacks that dramatic je ne sais pas. Anyway, this is what most people think of when they think of the word “antagonist.” Darth Vader, Michael Myers, Dracula, the enemy army, werewolves, the high school principal, you name it. If it’s a unique, discrete entity, it falls under this category … usually. Mind you, however, that an antagonist is not necessarily a villain. They don’t have to be evil. Sure, Darth Vader is a classic antagonist and a legend of pop culture, but if the protagonist is an underdog football player trying to win the big game, the antagonist could be the arrogant captain of the opposing team: a jerk, but he doesn’t have to be a mustache-twirling, baby-kicking villain.

If it’s not Man versus Man, it just might be Man versus Nature. Think Robinson Crusoe. There is no one identifiable entity threatening the protagonist. Nature itself is the enemy. Maybe it’s a storm threatening a fishing community, a plague that scientists are racing to cure, or an asteroid on a collision course with Earth. Whatever it is, it’s generally a faceless threat that you can’t just beat up yourself.

Although, sometimes writers cheat and will throw in some form of threat that makes things more personal. Say, a pack of wolves that chase the protagonist throughout the story. Or maybe a really angry bear. Or a monstrous, man-eating shark (Hello, Jaws!). If there’s something to pinpoint as the source of the protagonist’s woes, it makes it easier for the audience to cheer for them when they beat it.

Man versus Society: Society is to blame! Here, we have a protagonist who is in some shape or form going up against their own culture. It could be going against expectations, fighting against injustice, or maybe just trying to flee an oppressive situation. Or maybe they’re rebels who want to defy norms and expectations as a means of proving their own individuality. Or maybe the protagonist’s actions aren’t justified at all, and the story shows why those norms exist. These sorts of conflicts can swing widely between the idealistic and the cynical. The protagonist wins, proving that society can’t keep you down. Or the protagonist wins, triggering a dystopian collapse. Or society wins, and the selfish protagonist learns an important lesson about sacrifice and duty. Or society wins, and the protagonist is reduced to just another cog in a life-sucking machine. Yeah, these stories can go all over the place, can’t they?

And finally, we have Man versus Self. The protagonist is their own worst enemy. Nobody is able to hinder their goals more than themself. Personally, I don’t see this particular form of conflict very often, but it’s there. I think it works best when combined with one of the three other antagonists above. The protagonist could succeed if only he would give himself a break or free himself from whatever chains are holding him back. Pretty good for a character study or more cerebral story rather than an action-focused piece. If you want to get really loopy, you could have the character’s inner demons manifest externally as something in the real world, usually in a symbolic way as something associated with their vices, or you could have a literal split-personality for them to talk to. All sorts of loopy possibilities.

And there you have it: A bare-bones breakdown of conflict and antagonists in a story. As basic as can be, but a solid foundation for any writer to use.

What other forms of conflict do you see in stories? Are there other types of antagonists you’ve found in media that you’d like to share?

The gods and beings of ancient myth never went away. They just moved on with the times.

My book, A God Walks up to the Bar, is currently available on Amazon.com. Venture into the world of the Greek god Hermes, a world filled with demigods, vampires, nymphs, ogres, magic, and trickery. It’s a tough job, being a god!

Enjoying my blog? Don’t want to miss a single post? Subscribe for updates on when I post and follow my writing career, musings on fiction and storytelling, and reflections about life in general!