What Really Happened

Yesterday we talked about getting out of your own way and letting the writing happen. This next chapter, What Really Happened, expands on that and is really interesting from a psychological standpoint. Palumbo goes back to the theme of mining your own experiences, but insists that we must be willing to let go of our own endings and create what works for the story. Just because it really happened doesn't make it a good story.

It's all about the story.

My husband was watching a Mad Men Marathon on AMC last night. I'd never watched Mad Men before, but he fell asleep and I got drawn into it. What really caught my interest was the conversation breaks with Matt Weiner, creator of the series. I loved that chance to peek into his mind and his thought process as he created each episode. His focus was always on what worked for the characters and the story.


During one of the breaks, AMC played a commercial that featured the cast of Mad Men as themselves, discussing the show. Jon Hamm said, "Story Matters Here." That reminded me of a comment I'd read earlier in the year by one of the creators of GLEE. When asked if he could get a certain star onto the show, he responded that it depended on whether she fit the story, that story came first. With such strong emphasis on story, it's no surprise that these two shows have over 34 Emmy nominations between them.


It's all about the story.


So back to Palumbo and how we use our life experiences in developing story. He offers something to consider:

As the impulse to use this incident for a story arises, something happens. Your imagination and craft - even your desire to use the incident - renders it no longer merely a memory from your past, but a story to be shaped. Events are changed, truncated, altered in sequence... In other words, what started as a poigant moment from your childhood has become a scene in your novel or screenplay and therefore fodder for the sometime ruthless demands of aesthetic and craft.(p. 51)

So why is this important?

Apparently writers are often loath to change details of something they experienced. Palumbo uses the example of one writer whose stories kept getting rejected because editors hated the ending. The writer couldn't conceive of changing it because, as she said, "That's what really happened."

This chapter is intriguing on a psychological level because Palumbo explores our reticence to change our experiences. Do we feel that we're betraying ourselves (or the people whose stories we are telling), if we use our(their) stories but change them?

I can't say I recall ever feeling this way. I'm probably more likely to write a scene the way I wish it had happened. Reading this chapter makes me wonder if I'm not falling into that same trap though. Don't I need to think like the creators of GLEE and Mad Men and write what makes a great story, not what I want to happen in it? If, as Palumbo states in the previous chapter, all writing is autobiographical, I need to consider if I'm trying to remake incidents in my life to fit my preferred outcome.

Food for thought.

For example, I've read many authors who say writing conflict is their most difficult task because they are peaceful people and they hate to have bad things happen to characters they like. Yet we know that without conflict, story fails.


What do you think? Do you put story first? Or is your subconscious making demands at the expense of your story?