My house is full of story walls. In today’s
time-sensitive world, making a point form version of the story you can hold and
pin on a blank surface is considered a waste of time. But outlines for novels and
scripts help me lift my game: weaknesses in the plot become obvious when
staring you in the face—literally.
The storyboard is like a work of art,
capturing your project in one visual. Stand back, and take in the patterns. Why
is Act One so full? Why does more happen in Chapter 7 than the first third
of the novel?
And not a printed word document but
handwritten notes. Penning your concepts makes weak points glaringly obvious. The
realization a chapter is flimsier than you thought really hits home during the process
of writing it down, and pinning it up.
This also means you can make alterations
when inspiration strikes. Scrawl a note, and stick to the storyboard. The
plot is whole, organic, and open to change. Even when busy it just takes a
moment to vastly improve your project.
On top of the basic penned narrative I use
colored post-its so I can pinpoint where exposition, action, or romance take place. Gaps in the colors help you “see” portions of the story still tangled,
or lacking.
A character falling by the wayside becomes abundantly clear. Looking at a storyboard shows Susan went to buy
dinner—and never came back. Or highlights that Bob can’t be involved in the reveal in
Act Four because he wasn’t around when everything went down in Act Two.
Walking past a storyboard engages your
subconscious. A part of your mind is mulling over the project even when other
aspects of life blow up. Each moment counts: a masterpiece can be put together
around the edges of everyday routine.
And this way, making changes, replacing one
piece of paper with an updated version, isn’t discouraging. Instead you’re
working toward a better mosaic of ideas that will lead to a much stronger finished product.
Best of all, when you do wrap up the novel/script,
physically taking down that storyboard is so satisfying.
