The Power of the Classic Narrative Arc

Perfect narrative arc.

The classic narrative arc is sometimes perceived as old-fashioned. After all, so-called real life doesn't always move seamlessly from conflict to climax to pay-offs and resolution!

I've heard the latter argument used to excuse anything from chick lit to stream-of-consciousness literary writing. I've used that excuse myself (usually when I couldn't get a story to come together).

I don't consider the classic narrative arc to be old-fashioned or cliche. I consider it archetypal, part of human wiring. It's the way we naturally tell stories ("Guess what happened to me today? Surprise!"). It's the way parents teach children to tell stories ("What happens next?") and the way children teach each other to tell stories ("Do you know what!? Do you know what?!").

The classic narrative arc and its wiring is the reason people like me have to teach students how to write essays--because essays and business documents are counter-intuitive compared to stories: in the former, one starts with the conclusion or deduction while in the latter, one builds to the pay-off.

Events paid-off--and the fantasy makes sense.

There are certain "givens" embedded in any art form, such as perspective and proportions. The "givens" of the classic narrative arc don't bother me. When I read mysteries, I want a corpse and a detective and a whole bunch of interviews. When I read romances, I expect courting and intimacy and emotional revelations.

"Givens" are part of understanding art. Without the "givens," the reader will have no idea what is being violated or satirized or played with. Picasso excelled in traditional "givens," making Cubism a deliberate choice rather than a meandering diatribe against classical expectations.

(Frankly, violations and satires and such can get a bit tiresome after awhile. Violating the rules because one can't master the real ones is far less rebellious than it sounds.)

In any case, one of the principle delightful aspects of the classic narrative arc is the actual writing. With romance, I like reading about happy couples. I like even more that intense satisfaction that arises when a story works. A narrative that pulls elements together is a thing of beauty, an artistic sculpture in its own right. Yeah, yeah, yeah, maybe life is more vague and random and uncertain than fiction with no clear pay-offs or endings.

But I live life. I want art to reflect it back to me. I also want art to be more. Otherwise, I'd just go read a driver's ed manual.

Art is theology and hymns. And murals and portraits. And well-made shoes. And films. And short stories. And decorative gardens. And beautiful jewelry. And poems. And a great episode on television. And a batik. And a collage . . .

It's even chick-lit. My point here is that when the classic narrative arc comes together--when it works--it provides a satisfaction that goes beyond oh-they-got-married or oh-they-won-the-game. It's--

Ahh, that works.