Why do we even have inciting incidents? Who says there has to be one? Can’t we just plunge in with Word One? Why are we worrying so much about “starting” the story? Doesn’t the story start all by itself? Answer: the inciting incident is indispensable because the inciting incident is the Hook. When Shawn talks about Hook, Build, Payoff (Act One, Act Two, Act Three), he’s talking about the unshakeable structure of a screenplay, a novel (some of ’em anyway), a play, a joke, a seduction, a plot to overthrow a despot, not to mention your secret 18-year-plan to…

An extremely useful way to look at the Inciting Incident is to see it as “the Call,” as in the Hero’s Journey. The two are identical. They’re the same beat. Here’s Christopher Vogler from his indispensable The Writer’s Journey:   The hero is presented with a problem, challenge, or adventure to undertake. Once presented with a Call of Adventure [boldface his], she can no longer remain indefinitely in the comfort of the Ordinary World. In Star Wars, the Call to Adventure is Princess Leia’s desperate holographic message to wise old Obi-Wan Kenobi, who asks Luke to join in the quest. In…

  Ah, back to my favorite subject—theme. The Number One mistake that writers make is they forget that their book or screenplay must be about something. That’s crazy, you say. Of course a story has to be about something. But I can’t tell you how many I’ve read that have no theme, no controlling idea, no unifying narrative and emotional architecture. Which brings us to the next principle in our exploration of Inciting Incidents.   The inciting incident must be on-theme.   Let’s go back to Paper Moon, which we were talking about last week. The theme of the book…

  I was watching True Grit the other night, the 2010 version with Jeff Bridges as Rooster Cogburn. A couple of weeks earlier I had revisited Paper Moon, one of my all-time faves, with Ryan O’Neal and Tatum O’Neal. True Grit and Paper Moon are basically the same movie. The key is in the Inciting Incident. Let’s continue, then, our exploration of the Inciting Incident and how it works to infuse a story with power and narrative drive …   The story’s climax is embedded in the inciting incident.   Last week we talked about the two narrative “poles” that are…

We were talking last week about the storytelling concept of the Inciting Incident. We said that this week we’d get into the two “narrative poles” that spring into being the instant this scene is introduced. What we’re talking about here is the architecture of a story. Architecture is not the same as genius. It’s not the unique brilliance that you the writer bring to your dialogue. It’s not the one-of-a-kind twists and spins that you alone can insert into your narrative. It’s not the dazzling characters or relationships that you and only you can deliver. It’s more important than that.…

  The inciting incident happens when the hero acquires an intention. Until then it’s all set-up. Luke Skywalker acquires the intention to fight for the rebel alliance, to become a Jedi knight like his father, to discover his destiny. Mark Watney, alive and alone on Mars, acquires the intention to survive. Liam Neeson in Taken is called to find and rescue his daughter. Rocky to fight the champ. Addie Loggins in Paper Moon to link with her father. At these moments, the story starts. Set-up is over. Drama has begun. One of the great inciting incidents in recent years is that in…

I had been struggling as a screenwriter for about a year when I first heard the concept of the Inciting Incident. Here’s the context from Nobody Wants To Read Your Sh*t: I took Robert McKee’s class. It was called Screenplay Structure then. The class was three days—half of Friday and all day Saturday and Sunday. It cost $199, I think. [Check out the 2016 version at www.mckeestory.com.] The class was full of other aspiring screenwriters as well as actors and actresses, studio execs and development guys and gals. We were all desperate to find out what made a screenplay work.…

    Here’s an exercise to drive you crazy: Ask yourself, “What is the theme of my life?” I suggest this for two reasons. First, because it’s so hard for us as writers to grasp the idea of “theme.” What the hell is it anyway? How is it different from “subject?” From “concept?” An exercise like this (aside from being fairly mind-bending) is a great way to get a sense of exactly what “theme” means. My second reason is because I was watching the documentary about Tony Robbins last night, “I Am Not Your Guru.” I only got to watch…

  Call this post “Dudeology #3,” as we continue our exploration of The Big Lebowski, with an eye specifically to the writing of first drafts. We were talking in a couple of previous posts about the preparatory questions a writer asks himself or herself before the first word of a first draft goes onto paper. For me, the first two are: “What genre am I writing in?” “What’s the story’s spine, i.e. its ‘narrative highway’ from Act One through Act Two to Act Three?” The third question for me is, “What’s the theme? What is my story about?” Which brings…

  Here we are, getting set to plunge in on our first draft. But what do we do before that? We said a couple of weeks ago that our first question to ourselves, pre-pre-first draft, should be: “What’s the genre?” Okay, great. Let’s say that we’ve done that. We know our genre. Our story, we’ve determined, is a sci-fi action-adventure. Or maybe it’s a love story. Or a Western combined with a supernatural thriller. Good enough. We’ve got that covered. What’s next? For our answer, let’s refer back to Paul (“Taxi Driver,” “Raging Bull”) Schrader’s excellent guidelines for pitching:  …