words that work
[Image courtesy of Thanakrit Gu at Flickr Creative Commons]
They say that everybody has a novel inside them. Which often prompts the well-worn retort that in most cases, that’s precisely where it should stay.
On a bright but very breezy recent summer day in a friend’s garden, I trotted out that reliable old line and expected the usual response – a wry smile (they’ve heard it before) or gales of laughter (they haven’t).
But in this case, I was disappointed.
For my friend put down his elderberry tisane and his face clouded over. Was I suggesting that some people’s stories didn’t deserve to be told? That they were unworthy?
To be honest, he carried on, now gathering speed on the road towards indignation, he found it very dismissive. And superior. And verging on…
But I stopped him in mid-flight and reminded him that it was an old joke, and not mine. And that there was no malicious intent.
And in any case, the novel stays inside not because anybody’s forcing it to stay there, but because people just don’t pull their finger out and get it down on paper.
“It sounds to me like it’s personal with you,” I said, probing to see what was what was behind the sudden flare-up. “You’re not a frustrated novelist by any chance?”
Now my friend is a microbiologist, so I didn’t think it was likely. But no sooner were the words out of my mouth than he was on his feet and scurrying inside.
Moments later, he emerged waving a book with the cracked spine and dog ears typical of repeated readings.
Write a Novel and Get it Published, commanded the title of this Teach Yourself book by Nigel Watts. The author has done just that on many occasions and this how-to book is distillation of his experience, together with practical advice about the world of publishing.
Now I know my limits, and writing a novel is simply beyond me.
Although I (probably) have the skill, I just don’t have the desire, determination or attention span to pull it off. But that didn’t stop me thumbing through my friend’s copy of the book to see what what I could glean.
One thing in particular caught my attention: the eight-point story arc. It’s the basic framework that you can hang your writing on, and it’s one that you’ll recognise from all the best stories you’ve read.
But what got me interested was that it’s not that different to the framework of the best copywriting – which always tells a story.
Without ruining the plot, the stages are [with marketing translation in square brackets]:
Stories work because they follow certain conventions. Pick apart any popular novel, and you’ll see this same structure over and over again.
Simplified for copywriting, it looks like this:
OK, it doesn’t match the story arc points exactly, because it can’t.
Cinderella has to put on that glass slipper earlier, and we need to play down the misery and humiliation caused by those wicked sisters. Because marketing copy is less about the problem, and more about the solution.
But it’s always about telling a good story. Much as I hope my elderberry‑drinking scientist friend will be doing in the not-too-distant future.
With a little help from Nige.