Story Therapy: Finding the WHYs behind the WHYs

I had just pitched a timepiece romance to a Hollywood producer, and he asked, “Why do you want to tell this story?” It was a straightforward question, so I gave him a straightforward answer.

He asked WHY again, so I gave him another answer.

Back and forth this continued — WHY, ANSWER, WHY — until, finally, the Producer asked, “What’s the REAL reason behind this story?”

Okay, what? Hadn’t I already given him lots of “real” reasons?

(He growled.)

Apparently not.

He said that everything I told him was “surface stuff,” and that the “true” reason for telling this story was still hidden behind a wall.

I said there was no wall. Nothing hidden. Nothing more to say.

The story I had pitched was simply a drama about two underdogs helping one another out of unpleasant situations.

“There’s more” he said.

“WHY do you have two people helping one another?”

“Because everyone needs a little sunshine to dry up the rain.”

“WHY?”

“Sometimes people need help from other people.”

“Sure they do, but WHY do they need help?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Pretend that it’s not.”

“Because they get into situations they can’t handle alone.

“Tell me more about THAT.”

“If someone digs a hole too deep, it’s harder to climb out.”

“And?”

“That’s it.”

“Have you ever been in a situation you couldn’t escape by yourself?”

“No.”

“Someone else?”

“No.”

I could tell he wasn't convinced.

I pondered the EXIT sign.

He leaned back and got comfortable.

Truly, whatever this man was waiting for...was beyond my recollection.

So I told him just as much.

He still wasn't convinced.

I thought for sure he would show me the door, but he didn't move.

He wanted a better answer...but I didn't have one.

And, yet, there was something quiet and insistent pressing at my chest.

straining to emerge...

a voice to myself, eked out in a whisper...

“I think it’s my sister.”

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All of that happened several years ago, in a lofty Los Angeles office, while sweating out my last stretch as a Film undergrad.

The five weeks prior to this meeting, my screenwriting classmates and I were pitching concepts to at least twenty other Industry veterans. Producers, directors, show runners, writers, development executives, agents, and managers all asked what our stories were about, and we told them.

In exchange, they each offered bits of feedback, mostly useful, which helped to polish our pitches even further.

On this particular day in the producer's office, the butterflies were abundant, but I felt confident that my story was as polished as it could be.

I was wrong.

I was not prepared to answer the deepest WHYs, since none of our esteemed visitors had probed that DEEPLY.

What the dogged Producer was doing by asking me WHY after WHY was Story Therapy.

He needed to dig beneath all the surface to get “real” answers from my tightly locked subconscious.

I thought I was telling a tale from my combined interests and imagination, when, in actuality, my story was being fueled by something deeper and very personal and very painful.

And what all this persistent avoidance of the truth was doing was steering my story toward impulsive and abstract tangents that seemed related and essential, but could have easily been stories of their own.

Instead of helping my story development, the lack of clarity hindered it.

John Truby, author of The Anatomy of Story (2007), wrote that the “most important” part of the writing process is to “construct your story from the inside out. (14).

What this means is that as writers, we must be aware of what truly motivates our stories--not from inside of the story, but from inside of ourselves.

It’s these deeper motivations that are the main propellants--the origins of our most authentic writing, our most authentic voice.

Discovering that my sister was at the “heart” of my pitch was a revelation.

For five weeks, I sincerely believed I was talking about two characters helping one another, when, actually, it was a rescue story.

ONE of my two main characters needed significantly more help than the other.

I was so focused on the unlikely and endearing friendship of this twosome that I was blindly unaware that I was constructing a metaphor of an acutely familiar relationship.

If you reflect on the characters of Rose and Jack from Titanic (1997), you will see that Rose is the Protagonist. Jack is a major focal point and appears to be a co-protagonist, since he is an underdog, but Jack has strengths and a way of seeing life that Rose lacks (and finds appealing).

Rose attempts to end her life. Jack helps Rose fight for the independent life she truly desires. We can clearly see that Jack is not the one who needs to change. Rose is.

Thematically, this dynamic of support is similar to the relationship between my two characters — a highly coveted Prostitute and a repressed young Artist who meet at Coney Island in the summer of 1917.

SHE wants to escape her greedy and controlling Madam, and HE wants to help her. Her life was oppressive. His life was expressive. She wanted what he had. And, just like Jack's instant affection for Rose, the Artist wanted the Prostitute's love.

From here, I discovered that my Protagonist’s Big (Internal) NEED was to see herself as more than a sexual asset and to believe that she could be an independent, respectable woman and artist in her own right.

The enamored Artist, therefore, becomes an instrument of support (just like Jack) to help the Prostitute gain the early skills, confidence, and self-esteem she needs to keep taking forward steps toward resolving the Big Internal Need and achieving the Big External Want.

By helping and encouraging the woman he loves, the young Artist earns the Prostitute's love, and his minor struggle to be seen as a true artist is also resolved by his other actions.

Knowing the Protagonist’s Big Desire to live an expressive life also tells me that, with the proper dose of encouragement, she will eventually overcome her fear of the greedy Madam and do whatever it takes to fight for her own cause.

Alas, I am fully aware of the Protagonist's emotional fuel (or Heartbeat) of the story--aka THE WHY HIDING BEHIND ALL OF THE SMALLER WHYS.

Everything that is said and done to serve the Protagonist’s Big Want and propel her past the Big Problem feeds that emotional engine.

When considering every little pellet of freedom and adventure that Jack fed to Rose, it's clear that he was systematically helping to free Rose's mind from the false belief that she needed to stay in her corseted and oppressive world of wealth and security.

By teaching and providing facets of artistic support, the Artist in my story was feeding the Prostitute morsals of creative potential and surprising possibilities.

Both Jack and the Artist dangled the carrot of a better life for their woman.

So, Why did I REALLY want to tell the story about the Artist and the Prostitute?

I saw the Prostitute as a woman trapped in a terrible situation. She had dug her own hole so deep, she didn't know how to escape--yet, she yearned for a better life.

Subconsciously, I viewed my sister as a woman trapped in a terrible situation of her own doing. I truly believe she wants a better life, but she has dug her hole so deep, she mostly sees darkness and very little light. Over time, she drove further and further down one of those dark roads that too many people travel and hasn't yet returned.

In the REAL WORLD, I'm not able to help my sister. Honestly, I don’t know how. It’s possible she doesn’t want my help (and never will), but helping her was and is my deepest desire nonetheless.

In the STORY REALM, I can help my Protagonist.

Vicariously, some of my inner helplessness is diminished by channeling hope through my fictional counterparts. Indeed, the ability to mend my own broken heart is one of the most beautiful benefits of writing and being a writer.

Choosing Coney Island in the summer of 1917 — when the Women’s Suffrage Movement was picking up steam — was also prompted by my subconscious desire to provide an extraordinary way out of the darkness via the self-esteem and empowerment that comes from supporting a cause bigger than ourselves.

BOTTOM LINE: Understanding our underlying reasons for telling a story (aka our CORE motivations), gives us the much-needed foresight, insight, and fuel to write cohesive stories with FOCUS and INTENTION, the primary benefits of doing Story Therapy.

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Story Therapy is an insightful, interview technique that encourages a writer to do deeper thinking and soul-searching about their present story.

In a Story Therapy interview, for example, others will ask: What is this story about? What is this story REALLY about? And...Why do you want to tell this story?

What is the Protagonist’s False Belief or Oppressive Lie about his/her unwanted situation that must be overcome? And...what is the Big Need that must be resolved to achieve the Big Want?

What do you want your main character to achieve? And...How does this serve you and the story?

What is the primary lesson you want your audience to take away from your main character's journey? And...Why is that lesson so important to you? And why is it important to share?

• STORY THERAPY can be done one-on one (or in a group), where one Writer presents his/her basic story concept and is then asked Character and Story Development Questions, as though being interviewed for a newspaper feature, while someone else takes WRITTEN NOTES.

  
  

• BEFORE THE QUESTIONING BEGINS, the Writer is instructed to “Only share what you’re comfortable sharing.”

  
  

• Ideally, each person asking questions is GENUINELY INTERESTED and/or curious and is asking SOLELY for the purpose of supporting the Writer’s Story and Character Development process. While this can feel a lot like a psychological and emotional exercise for the Writer, it is NEVER meant to be transformed into psychotherapy.

  
  

• This exercise is NOT about “fixing” personal problems. It’s about GAINING INSIGHT to better understand why we are motivated to write the stories we write and then to ruminate on our discoveries, so we can gain clarity and a solid sense of direction.

  
  

• If a Writer chooses to reveal something of a highly personal nature, the INTERVIEWER should ASK if the writer would like to connect that detail to their Story on their own or with the group. Sensitivity and mindfulness are essential in this exercise.

  
  

• INVITE THE WRITER TO ASK STORY QUESTIONS as well. They may have concerns about their story that have not yet been addressed. They may also want to know if their Protagonist is likable or relatable or motivated, capable, and challenged enough to take the BIG Journey.

  
  

• ALL NOTES are respectfully given to the Writer at the end of the session. Remember that each session of Story Therapy is for the writer’s benefit, and their comfort and sense of security in sharing their story is what makes this exercise most effective.

  
  

T. Bear Hayes has earned an MFA in Television and Screenwriting, an MA in Creative Writing and Screenwriting, and a BA in Cinema Art & Science. She teaches Story Development, Screenwriting, and Filmmaking and is currently writing: “Triumph of the Watermelon: A Head-Start Guide to Story Development for Screenwriting and Television.”