I'd like to join in as well! If I had to proffer an answer, I would say a pulse might be defined(ish) by its importance to the causality of the story as a whole. That is, the beat without which a story just couldn't continue, couldn't keep making meaning. "Narrator becomes afraid of rejection" is important exposition, but in and of itsel…
I'd like to join in as well! If I had to proffer an answer, I would say a pulse might be defined(ish) by its importance to the causality of the story as a whole. That is, the beat without which a story just couldn't continue, couldn't keep making meaning. "Narrator becomes afraid of rejection" is important exposition, but in and of itself, it doesn't push the story *forward.* The narrator could remain quite passively in that state for a long time. George's pulse--"Narrator gets an assignment"--pushes that narrator into new territory. It's what the story needs to happen for it to *keep* happening, basically. It's escalation. It's the story saying, "Wherever the narrator is now, it's not good enough. It won't test him enough, it won't push him enough. The stakes aren't high enough. Let's take him somewhere where they are, so we can really see what he's made of."
"Unit of meaning" does seem to obfuscate this possible/working definition slightly, though, so I really want to hear what Professor Saunders has to say. I'm kind of worried I've pinned it down too forcefully, and that the ambiguity might have been part of the point--which in my boundless ignorance I've missed.
I appreciate your point about the narrators assignment pushing the action forward. The assignment means that he must go into danger, as opposed to running away when he hears, "You're a grown man, but you're about to get the sh*t beat out of you, like a junior high school kid, because you wear glasses."
However, the assignment itself doesn't really do it for me, as a reader. If all that happened was that he got an assignment, I'd be bored to death. The thing that pushes the story forward for me is the fear. It's not just his fear, but my fear for him. I read more because I want to know how the situation will resolve itself.
Yes Amy, I'm with you. 'Fearing' is a form of emotion of engagement, and what's more deep rather than shallow engagement. A further frisson of 'fear' must come with knowing that while you hope the situation may resolve itself you know that, possibly, it will not.
I definitely agree! A pulse on its own pushes the plot forward, but it can't necessarily make us *care.* This pulse only works because we read it as a deepening/escalation of the narrator's already established fear. The meaning of the pulse is defined by all that "how," which is really a question of who and when and where and why, not to mention so much else!
A distinction between pushing the plot forward (mechanical) and pushing you, the reader, forward (psycho-emotional) should definitely be made. A series of coherent pulses doesn't define whether a story is successful or not, that is, doesn't define whether you keep caring and reading to the end or not. It's simply a diagnostic or blueprint for what the story seems to be trying to do: "Well, the assignment seems to be the big plot point here. Now that I know, does the author succeed in making it interesting and/or meaningful?" As George said, "Once we knew what work the scene was doing, each team knew what it had to do - it knew the flavor of what it had to do." Once we know what a scene is for, then we can start judging it.
I think you've got it regarding causality. Here's what George wrote when he explained his idea of pulses: "What makes a story a story is the way one pulse leads to the next, which produces that lovely story-feeling. (“Ah, this led to that.”)" I think maybe the trick is to not get caught up with the word "meaning." Or to think of it more as "something meaningful happened" that will lead to the next "meaningful thing that will happen."
Aye! There' s the mechanics, the pump which we might give title to i.e
'Narrator gets asignment' or some such, and then there is the action resultant, the blood that is pumped, and pulses on to the next pumping station, enriched...
Yeah, Mary, that's a good point. I think one of the reasons I found it confusing was because when George discussed finding "The Hollywood version" in his previous post, he talked about summarizing the story this way, "man is rejected, then gets accepted." And, he identified that as the larger meaning of the individual elements of the story.
Yes, i can understand the confusion. "Man is rejected, then gets accepted" is the "why" of the story--the purpose for writing it in the first place. The pulses are the "hows," as in "how it came to pass that the man was rejected and then accepted." I don't mean to speak for George here, but that's how I understand it.
I see your point. I think I mistook, "Man is rejected, then gets accepted" as something internal, but it isn't. It's an overview of an external thing that happened to the man.
I love that last sentence! Thank you! It's a great summation, and I think you've hit the nail on the head. Building off that, I'd say my working definition for a pulse would have to be something like: "a primary causal/escalatory event in a story." Or, as you put it, a meaningful event that will lead to the next meaningful event. It's that fundamental action/reaction, bowling pin relationship, and, as Niall noted upthread, it's intimately connected with change. Our need for it and the story's need for it (which are, of course, the same thing). If we return to George's concept of the "what" and the "how," it might even be termed the ur-concept behind the "what."
I absolutely adore how, in writing, so many seemingly different concepts turn out to be the same concept, just seen from different angles. This object-like tendency is so marvelous for contemplation, isn't it?
I think you're right--that sometimes we're all saying the same thing. But for it to hit home, we often need someone saying it in just the right way that speaks to us in that particular moment. I think what George is showing us here is the way to move a story forward. There's always an internal story at the same time as the external action. But a scene (usually) can't be simply internal. Something has to happen! And each thing that happens (and moves the story forward with new meaning)--well, that's your pulse. I think.
I'd like to join in as well! If I had to proffer an answer, I would say a pulse might be defined(ish) by its importance to the causality of the story as a whole. That is, the beat without which a story just couldn't continue, couldn't keep making meaning. "Narrator becomes afraid of rejection" is important exposition, but in and of itself, it doesn't push the story *forward.* The narrator could remain quite passively in that state for a long time. George's pulse--"Narrator gets an assignment"--pushes that narrator into new territory. It's what the story needs to happen for it to *keep* happening, basically. It's escalation. It's the story saying, "Wherever the narrator is now, it's not good enough. It won't test him enough, it won't push him enough. The stakes aren't high enough. Let's take him somewhere where they are, so we can really see what he's made of."
"Unit of meaning" does seem to obfuscate this possible/working definition slightly, though, so I really want to hear what Professor Saunders has to say. I'm kind of worried I've pinned it down too forcefully, and that the ambiguity might have been part of the point--which in my boundless ignorance I've missed.
I appreciate your point about the narrators assignment pushing the action forward. The assignment means that he must go into danger, as opposed to running away when he hears, "You're a grown man, but you're about to get the sh*t beat out of you, like a junior high school kid, because you wear glasses."
However, the assignment itself doesn't really do it for me, as a reader. If all that happened was that he got an assignment, I'd be bored to death. The thing that pushes the story forward for me is the fear. It's not just his fear, but my fear for him. I read more because I want to know how the situation will resolve itself.
Yes Amy, I'm with you. 'Fearing' is a form of emotion of engagement, and what's more deep rather than shallow engagement. A further frisson of 'fear' must come with knowing that while you hope the situation may resolve itself you know that, possibly, it will not.
Thank you!
I definitely agree! A pulse on its own pushes the plot forward, but it can't necessarily make us *care.* This pulse only works because we read it as a deepening/escalation of the narrator's already established fear. The meaning of the pulse is defined by all that "how," which is really a question of who and when and where and why, not to mention so much else!
A distinction between pushing the plot forward (mechanical) and pushing you, the reader, forward (psycho-emotional) should definitely be made. A series of coherent pulses doesn't define whether a story is successful or not, that is, doesn't define whether you keep caring and reading to the end or not. It's simply a diagnostic or blueprint for what the story seems to be trying to do: "Well, the assignment seems to be the big plot point here. Now that I know, does the author succeed in making it interesting and/or meaningful?" As George said, "Once we knew what work the scene was doing, each team knew what it had to do - it knew the flavor of what it had to do." Once we know what a scene is for, then we can start judging it.
Thank you. That makes sense.
I think you've got it regarding causality. Here's what George wrote when he explained his idea of pulses: "What makes a story a story is the way one pulse leads to the next, which produces that lovely story-feeling. (“Ah, this led to that.”)" I think maybe the trick is to not get caught up with the word "meaning." Or to think of it more as "something meaningful happened" that will lead to the next "meaningful thing that will happen."
Aye! There' s the mechanics, the pump which we might give title to i.e
'Narrator gets asignment' or some such, and then there is the action resultant, the blood that is pumped, and pulses on to the next pumping station, enriched...
Yeah, Mary, that's a good point. I think one of the reasons I found it confusing was because when George discussed finding "The Hollywood version" in his previous post, he talked about summarizing the story this way, "man is rejected, then gets accepted." And, he identified that as the larger meaning of the individual elements of the story.
Yes, i can understand the confusion. "Man is rejected, then gets accepted" is the "why" of the story--the purpose for writing it in the first place. The pulses are the "hows," as in "how it came to pass that the man was rejected and then accepted." I don't mean to speak for George here, but that's how I understand it.
I see your point. I think I mistook, "Man is rejected, then gets accepted" as something internal, but it isn't. It's an overview of an external thing that happened to the man.
I love that last sentence! Thank you! It's a great summation, and I think you've hit the nail on the head. Building off that, I'd say my working definition for a pulse would have to be something like: "a primary causal/escalatory event in a story." Or, as you put it, a meaningful event that will lead to the next meaningful event. It's that fundamental action/reaction, bowling pin relationship, and, as Niall noted upthread, it's intimately connected with change. Our need for it and the story's need for it (which are, of course, the same thing). If we return to George's concept of the "what" and the "how," it might even be termed the ur-concept behind the "what."
I absolutely adore how, in writing, so many seemingly different concepts turn out to be the same concept, just seen from different angles. This object-like tendency is so marvelous for contemplation, isn't it?
i love contemplating all of it.
I think you're right--that sometimes we're all saying the same thing. But for it to hit home, we often need someone saying it in just the right way that speaks to us in that particular moment. I think what George is showing us here is the way to move a story forward. There's always an internal story at the same time as the external action. But a scene (usually) can't be simply internal. Something has to happen! And each thing that happens (and moves the story forward with new meaning)--well, that's your pulse. I think.
Nothing more to add! I think you've put it in a way that will hit home for a great many people in a great many particular moments!
Again, thank you, Mary. Every time I read one of your posts, it makes a little bit more sense to me.