Reg Open: Non-Linear Story Structures from Non-Western Traditions
When: February 25th, 2024 | 10AM – 1PM Pacific Time
Can't make the live webinar? Register to get the recording after
Where: Online — Zoom Classroom
Price: $75 - $100
Scholarships are available - scholarship deadline is February 4th!
“Begin at the beginning,” the King said, very gravely, “and go on till you come to the end: then stop.”
― Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland.
Carroll’s king was clearly not a Chinese king. Western storytelling traditions decree that a linear structure (along with the three act structure, the hero’s journey, and a rising self-esteem arc) are mandatory features of any satisfying story. This is Western-centric silliness. In this webinar, author Henry Lien will explore non-linear structures, specifically cyclic and nested structures, using examples from non-Western stories and films.
Students will come to understand how these non-linear structures allow for thematic stacking, embracing of moral complexity, and a synthesis between form and content to explode the idea that a straight line is the best way to tell every story. The webinar emphasizes practical craft takeaways for storytellers to apply to their own works in progress.
This webinar will run from 10AM to 1PM Pacific Time with short breaks in the middle.
Details and Registration at Writing the Other's website.
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"the harsh sun beats down on dirt roads full of pebbles and dust.
its harsh rays peel the paint on the slowly decaying houses. all of the grass has long since died in the heat.
most of the houses are empty, and they have been so for a long time. some of the houses have sun-bleached curtains flapping in empty wind, shattered glass from once clean windows now littering the ground in thousands of dirty, yellowed shards like fallen, tarnished stars."
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or, squiddo and ashswag go ghost hunting.
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This is a very old and tired complaint but Shaun really was the stupidest thing about fallout 4. The synths were pretty bad too but the synths weren't supposed to be the characters motivation for doing anything. Shaun was several jukes in a contrivance trench coat that clashed with...everything else, to be honest.
So anyway, some dumb ideas i came up with in ten minutes to replace the "Find your son" plot, still using the basic ideas
The SS is still pre-war, and still is the only survivor of Vault 111. This time, they're the ones taken by Kellogg, and after undergoing something (basically just being conscious in the Institute for a bit) before getting thrown back out into the Wasteland. The motivation is figuring out who those science guys were, what they wanted with you, and later, are you a synth?
The SS is not pre-war. Game starts with you traveling with some merc group (gunners maybe?) told to investigate Vault 111 and get out any survivors of the cryo chambers. You find the cryo'd people, but the Institute and Kellogg are right behind you. Kellogg kills everyone in your band, leaving only you, as you hide or play dead or whatever. The Institute takes all of the people you were supposed to save. Motivation is 1: avenging your team and killing Kellogg, 2: figuring out why you were sent to Vault 111 in the first place, and if this job was a set-up.
SS is a traveler who stumbles upon Garvey in Concord. You save him and his group, and can join the Minutemen as usual. If you accept, the Settlement radiant quests start to involve the Institute. Synths are constantly attacking your farms, you keep finding replacements in your settlements trying to kill the original people, and the Institute sends you letters requesting your cooperation or to disband the Minutemen, depending on your actions. Kellogg also keeps showing up and throwing wrenches in Minutemen business. Now, as the General, you're trying to find the Institute to make them stop fucking with your people. If you decline the Minutemen, the Institute starts attacking the major settlements, and now the Commonwealth is under invasion. The Brotherhood rolls in with no fake niceties, and you get roped into it by either the Railroad or BOS in a random encounter.
Back to Pre-war SS. The cryo chambers open after 200 years on their own, and all of the 'residents' stumble out to find the Vault staff dead. Someone has to go see what its like topside. You can volunteer, or everyone draws straws/flips a coin/etc and you lose, having to go up. You go find Codsworth, he tells you there are people in Concord. Find Garvey, etc etc. Vault 111 is now up and operational by Pre-war civilians, but you're tasking with getting supplies for them. Joining the Minutemen makes this easier, as you can send supply routes rather than do it yourself. The Vault interests the Institute, who send Kellogg to attack Sanctuary and the Vault after hitting a certain threshold of success. You go after the Institute once it looks like the Institute, before the war, had something to do with Vault 111, and are now trying to come collect those results. Motivation is figuring out what the Institute is actually planning for the Commonwealth, and why Vault 111 and its people seem to be their ticket to that future.
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I am. Pretty Tempted to talk about post-recovery for Heartless AU. About Heart learning to live again. About Heart, freshly emotional once more, grieving all that he lost so intensely that it almost sets his progress back again. About Perseverance and Penitence holding him up and moving forwards while finally finally acknowledging his emotions like he always wanted. About figuring out his new limits. About Heart trying desperately to remember the feeling of wings on his back because forgetting feels like the ultimate sin, but he's getting used to not having them and he doesn't want to forget.
About Perseverance and Penitence, being more thoughtful and accepting. About both of them helping Heart with these emotions, because they experienced something similar but lesser when Heart was unconscious. About them giving Heart gifts and how those little acts are what holds Heart together.
About them moving forward into the future. About how it's not perfect, but its mine.
...mostly I am just thinking really intensely about Heart's reaction to his lost wings.
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You ever go back to look at your WIP after ignoring it for a while and you're just like holy shit, what did I write?
Anyway, memorized your smile lines snippet under cut because it's emotionally heavy and rated M (but I'm sharing anyway because apparently I've reached the rare-for-me stage where I crave external motivation in order to finish this one, ha).
Warning for implied past sexual trauma
His heart kicks as her hand moves to his belt. As she makes a game of it, fingers skirting back and forth, skin and denim and skin and denim until the difference is negligible because she’s touching him no matter what. Like there’s nothing between them, like he’s just as exposed and vulnerable now as he would be naked. Stops breathing when she reaches in; forces himself to breathe anyway. It’s not like—like that, not like it was. But it’s not really like Nancy at all either, and that’s the only other point of comparison he has, and now his stomach is all queasy knots again as she’s pushed to the foreground. Like time is a circle, and it always comes back to that first.
She doesn’t matter. She doesn’t. That doesn’t matter. It only has meaning if he gives it meaning, and no force on Earth can make him do that if he wants badly enough to let it go. It’s just the context. He’s a raw nerve around Cat, uncertain and hesitant. It’s all close to the surface with her—her and her friends who’d looked at him and seen something damaged, which is sort of infuriating; but not been repulsed, which he supposes, with the benefit of time, is better. Been attracted to it, though, which still isn’t.
She pulls at him slow, then she stops. Bats her eyes at him while he pants in her face, heavy and stupid, some kind of overburdened beast on the verge of collapse under a baking sun. There’s no sun here; he’s hot anyway, skin burning, aflame. She’s blurry, too close, his eyelashes wet—not crying, no. Not again just because a girl is touching him. Just damp, just so much feeling so it has to go somewhere, probably makes him look like he’s wearing clumsy dark mascara. He should wear mascara. That’d show his dad. His dad who’ll never see it because Jonathan doesn’t have to see him ever again. His dad who was standing over him the first time someone had broken him open this way, when he’d looked up on the other side of ruination into that serrated smirk, that sick pride.
She nudges his shoulder. Pulls her hand back. He looks at her face; can’t look into her eyes.
This island is so far from Indianapolis. What is he even doing here?
He pushes closer to Cat. Is it farther east? Farther north? He’s lost all sense of space; if his hips guide her into that wall, which cardinal direction is his dick driving? Maybe it moves him a few inches farther from home. A few inches closer, nothing degrees, barely any distance at all.
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Prompt: "I may not get another chance to say this."
Fandom: Fanf Security Breach, mafia au
Rating: T
Warnings: alcohol, crime and murder mentioned.
Eclipse sat staring into the depths of his hard liquor.
His consumption of such was , in the eyes of humans, pointless but the acrid smell and instant combustion upon hitting his system made him feel alive even when nothing else would.
It was in this brooding state that you approached him.
The scrape of the chair against the wood floor only further filled Eclipse with dread.
This was it.
You had come to tell him you were through, that your debt was settled and you were leaving.
Perhaps you'd pack up and leave this city entirely, he couldn't hold you here anymore, nothing could. He had made sure you had means.
Surely you would use them.
"You're back." You say and the sweet sound of your voice makes him weak in ways that shouldn't be possible for a machanical being.
When he risks a glimpse at you, his condition is far from improved.
The way the light catches your eyes is doing things to his processors.
He continues to trace sensless patterns into the table top. Normally he would be quick to reply with a clever remark but he is speechless. His voicebox crackling with each failed attempt at a greeting.
This seems to amuse you and your bell-like laughter leaves him reeling.
"It's...good to see you again. For awhile I thought-"
"I may not get another chance to say this." His words felt too loud.
The din of the club around them seemed to fade out whenever he met your eyes. They were perfect pools of light, dappled with shade like the pond in that park you liked. Stars, everything in this city would haunt him after you were gone.
"I know we're square and that you probably are getting on the first train outta here after this but I need you to know..." he took your hands a bit more roughly than he meant to and felt you flinch. He relaxed his grip immediately, softening in a way that only you could make him soften.
"I would have died a contented bot back there. You, you're worth more than any racket I've ever run. I-I just- I can't..."
Then you leaned forward and you were kissing him.
Eclipse pressed closer. Arms moving to pull you closer. He took all you gave him greedily. As if it was the very fuel he ran off of.
When you pulled away, you brought a hand to the side of his faceplate and he couldn't help but let his optics shutter.
You had so seldom been the one to initiate anything and this might be his last taste of-
"Come with me."
Eclipse opened his eyes with a start. You were looking at him with the most serious look you had every given him.
No games.
No jests.
Just you.
"Come with me 'Clip. We can run, go anywhere and just be ..." you were choking up, tears in your eyes.
If someone had told him that he'd ever consider walking away, away from everything he had fought and killed for in this city? Well, they probably would have lived to finish the thought. Yet in this moment, he found himself nodding along, acutely aware of how your thumb brushed along the whorls decorating his cheek.
His systems were stuttering and he found himself uttering the words.
"Okay, darling. For you? Anything."
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Y'all don't understand, Tango in a witch's hat is making me lose my mind for many reasons. Partially because he was just so damn excited over it but also
There was a Witch & Familiar Traffic Life AU I'd written up like - a few months back? Maybe? It started with Martyn and Ren and expanded from there. But W&F Tango grew up thinking he was just A Normal Non-Magic-User for like years. And then one day, POOF, he has magic, and he finds out because he meets (Avian Familiar) Jimmy and their magic just clicks instantly. And like.
Sausage calling Tango a lower-level witch or something in his record book?? Guys it's making me want to add it to my actual fic list even though I already have three MCYT stories in the works
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