<em>Inspired 3D Short Film Production</em>: Story — Part 1

Most of the time these changes go from one extreme to the other. A good situation or person becomes bad. A fool becomes a genius. A tranquil setting erupts into chaos. Life becomes death. Often, these changes come full circle. Rags to riches to rags. Boy gets girl… boy loses girl… boy regains girl.

A short story is one that delivers narrative progression with economy and efficiency.

Theme
Most stories contain a central theme—the main idea of the story. If you tell someone you are writing a book or making a film, he or she will likely ask what it's about (see Figure 1). If you can answer with a single word, such as "revenge," "love," "victory," "escape," "growth," "karma" or "redemption," or a short phrase such as "seize the day" or "blood is thicker than water," then you have a strong grasp of your story's central theme. To maintain a consistent vision as you assemble the elements of your film, it is often a good idea to identify this theme. In the words of Vernon Hardapple to Grady Tripp in Wonder Boys, "If you didn't know what it was about, then why were you writing it?"

[Figure 1] Even if your goal is to simply deliver a quick punch line, your story should be about something. However, don’t give yourself writer’s block by thinking you absolutely must have a theme worked out before you begin writing. Almost every story will have a central theme, but often it won’t reveal itself until much (if not all) of your script is fully written. Also keep in mind that your theme doesn’t have to be especially profound. Entertainment, action and humor are perfectly acceptable themes for short animated films.

[Figure 2] Moonsung Lee’s Bert is both accessible and memorable because it successfully combines a familiar theme with imaginative design and art direction.

Exercise: Select a few of your favorite stories and see whether you can identify each of the central themes with a single word or a short phrase. For example, the central theme of The Wizard of Oz might be, "Home is where the heart is." The central themes of the short film Values might be "priorities" or perhaps "approval." Then again, the theme might very well be "values."

Balancing Realism with Imagination
Another important concept to keep in mind is that stories must be at least somewhat related to familiar reality to engage an audience, but abstract and creative enough to entertain. And striking this balance successfully is sometimes tricky. If your story is too close to normal reality, it runs the risk of being dull. On the other hand, if it is too bizarre you might not find an audience. Shorts like For the Birds, Bert and Early Bloomer achieve such a balance by mixing imaginative characters with familiar social themes (see Figure 2). The Three Main Components of a Story
Effectively communicating a story generally requires three basic elements:

Plot is the flow of events contained in your story. Keep in mind that a single event doesn't quite qualify as a story. At least two are generally required, and they must be related somehow, usually by way of cause and effect. "I walked down the street" is not a plot, but "I walked down the street and…" will qualify as a plot once you complete the sentence with another event or a punch line that brings about some form of change.

Characters are the living beings who respond to or motivate the events of the story, and setting is the location and era where those events take place. Setting might also indicate specifics, such as season, time of day and weather conditions.

Any one of these three elements can be the catalyst for a story idea; however, a premise won't progress very far unless at least one of the other two ingredients is added.

Two out of Three Ain't Always Bad
A plot and a setting without characters can occasionally qualify as a story; however, unless the action is centered around a major event like the creation of the universe, it is unlikely that such a tale will be especially memorable or interesting. Audiences yearn to relate, and a film with no characters will have an extremely difficult time establishing such a connection.

[2]

[Figure 3] Where am I? [2]

Pairing a character and a plot without a setting rarely makes much sense unless you're creating some sort of abstract metaphorical scenario. Settings don't have to be particularly complex, but at least some indication of space or time is generally required to capture and hold a viewer's attention (see Figure 3).

Character and setting, however, can combine in compelling ways without the need for much in the way of plot progression. Feature films such as The Big Chill and Pixar's CG short, Geri's Game, are character-driven stories (in which the plot is contained within the evolving personalities, actions and relationships of the characters), as opposed to event-driven stories, such as Independence Day and The Cathedral (in which the plots are centered on external events and the characters mainly respond, rather than motivate). Most stories are moved along by both character and event, but one is generally the dominant driving force of the other.

Starting with an Event
A story premise often begins with an event. If this event is particularly remarkable, like an alien spaceship landing in your backyard, the situation will have obvious narrative possibilities. If the event motivates a subsequent incident or a punch line, you have a series of connected events, which qualifies as a plot. And for an event to create a significant degree of narrative potential, it must contain some kind of conflict. "My dog, Butch, ate his dinner last night" is not a very interesting start. However, "Butch ate my dinner last night" creates the expectation of subsequent events, reactions or consequences, which qualifies the scenario as a potentially interesting story premise. One way of determining whether your story premise has possibilities is by presenting it to someone and gauging his or her reaction. Telling a co-worker that Butch ate his own dinner last night will probably not generate much of a response. On the other hand, mentioning that Butch ate your dinner last night will undoubtedly result in a question or two. More than likely, you'll be asked what happened next or how you reacted. This request for additional information is a good indication that your dog story premise has legs.

[3]

[Figure 4] Imaginative characters like these should certainly inspire a few story ideas. [3]

Starting with a Character
Perhaps you've designed an interesting main character and would like to build a story around him or her. If this character is particularly unique, such as a giant, invisible, flying tiger shark, an associated story premise can sometimes seem to write itself because your character's goals and desires will likely be rather obvious (see Figure 4). However, many successful stories begin with a more realistic (and perhaps generic or unremarkable) main character, such as your average dog, Butch.

Regardless of whether your character is generic or unique, a simple way of starting to build a story premise around him is to give him a goal—something he either wants or needs, such as food, shelter, money or love. The process by which your character attempts to accomplish this goal must ultimately change his locale, health, personality, possessions, opinion or status through some form of conflict. Conflicts, of course, come in many shapes and sizes. There are external conflicts, such as races to win, villains to defeat, lovers to entice, masters' dinners to eat and banks to rob. There are also internal conflicts, such as difficult decisions to make, character flaws to adjust and fears to overcome. Physical conflicts can be very exciting, such as when the protagonist struggles with success versus failure. Moral conflicts can be equally compelling, when the protagonist constantly considers, "Should I or shouldn't I?"

Another effective method of building a story idea around a character is by asking yourself a few questions about the character. Who is he? Where did he come from? Where is he now? What's his motivation? What does he want or need? Who is his greatest enemy? What is his biggest fear? Why didn't Butch just eat his own stupid dinner? Answering such questions can often lead directly to a story idea. Perhaps your character's heritage can inspire some potential plot points if he comes from an interesting place, such as Neptune's third moon. Perhaps your character wants success, respect, affection, a better job or a bigger house.

Once you've established some idea of your character's identity and given him something to need or desire, the details of a subsequent plot can start to develop as you think of interesting ways for him to accomplish his goals. Of course, a few complications along the way, such as flat tires or guard dogs, are generally necessary for your character's journey to be compelling in the narrative sense.

Still another easy way of building a story idea around a character is by introducing additional characters who will have some kind of relationship with your protagonist. Shorts such as Luxo Jr. and Snookles are not stories until the second character appears.

A character with a worthy goal and an associated plan is perhaps the simplest, although certainly not the only, formula for a story premise. Adding a setting, a reason why your character can't achieve his goal immediately, a few complications along his path, and a satisfying conclusion will turn this simple set of ingredients into a fully formed narrative.

[4]

[Figure 5] Two characters and not enough space for both will very likely result in a conflict situation. [4]

One common relationship structure is the notion of two dogs and one bone. This dynamic can take on many forms (for example, two racers and one trophy, or two boys and one girl). Furthermore, both "dogs" don't necessarily need to be characters. One can be a thief and the other a safe, where the cash inside represents the bone. The existence of additional characters often brings about a conflict situation, usually because there are not enough "bones" to go around or because the town is too small for both people (see Figure 5).

A story's central conflict could even result from a simple disagreement. Lenny wants sushi but Jenny wants pizza. Or conflicts can arise simply by having one of the characters say no to the other when a request is made, such as "Will you marry me?"

Often, a newly introduced second character will intentionally cause the protagonist's conflict. Or a third might cause a struggle between the other two. Perhaps your neighbor's cat, Fluffy, was the one who actually ate your dinner, but she cleverly ran away just in time for you to come home and blame it on Butch. Adding Fluffy to the mix thickens the plot significantly. Now there are two potential conflicts: You versus Butch, who will earn sympathy from the audience if he is wrongly punished, and Butch versus Fluffy, who should pay dearly for her frame job.

Of course, rather than opposing each other, all of the main characters might work together toward a common goal, such as a World Series pennant. However, such stories are rarely interesting unless the teammates are forced to conquer a few internal or external problems along the way.

Starting with a Setting
If your idea begins with a setting, such as an alien landscape or a crowded office on Wall Street, a story will not develop unless you introduce at least one (human or otherwise) character to the scenario and give him something to accomplish. Of course, the setting itself can dictate what your character needs to do. If your story begins at the bottom of a well, your character will probably want to climb out. If the setting is your kitchen and an empty dog bowl, Butch might be compelled to seek his dinner elsewhere, such as the dining room table. Another common method of expanding a setting into a story is by introducing elements that disrupt the status quo, such as a tornado (Twister), some ghostly invaders (Poltergeist) or a virus (Outbreak), thus motivating a need or desire to stop, reverse or eject the disruption. Of course, if a time limit is involved, the situation becomes that much more dramatic (Terminator II: Judgment Day).

[5]

[Figure 6] Man vs. man, man vs. nature and man vs. himself. [5]

Conflict
With very few exceptions, all stories—even the shortest of shorts—contain a setting, a protagonist, a goal, a subsequent action and an associated conflict. After all, while most of us strive for happy lives with minimal stress, such scenarios make for lousy stories. In the narrative world, happiness and tranquility equal boredom, while conflict equals drama. If only herbivorous beasts and benevolent scientists populated Jurassic Park, it might've made for an interesting scenario, but there would've been no story. Furthermore, a story's central conflict must be powerful enough to bring about a change in the protagonist or require him to expend a reasonable amount of energy or thought for its potential resolution. Nobody will be particularly engaged by the story of a burglar who merely encounters a few trivial distractions while robbing a downtown bank. Rather, the complications must be significant and challenging, and the opposing forces must have reasonably equal chances of emerging victorious to create any sense of drama or suspense. There must be moments when it appears that the hero will fail.

One opponent often appears to be the weaker of the two, but the underdog typically summons a degree of tenacity, patience, or ingenuity that makes up for his apparent disadvantages, thereby equalizing his chances (A Bug's Life). A completely mismatched tennis game is rarely interesting to watch or play because the ending is too predictable. However, if one player is faster but the other is more powerful, it might be anyone's game. The protagonist and his opposing force don't have to be equal in any particular way, but the outcome of their final confrontation must not be obvious before the fact. Scholars have suggested that there are three basic types of conflicts (see Figure 6).

Note: As soon as the English language is updated to include a non-gender-specific pronoun, we will be happy to use it in all of our future writings. But for now, please excuse our convenient, grammatically proper, yet politically incorrect use of the words "man" and "him," which are meant to imply either gender.

Man vs. man examples:

Man vs. nature examples:

Man vs. himself examples:

Of course, in most man vs. man or man vs. nature stories, the protagonist is often overcoming something within himself while addressing the external conflict (Comics Trip). The man vs. himself theme has a consistent habit of finding its way into all types of conflict-oriented storylines.

Pick a few of your favorite novels, short stories, television shows, commercials, plays, feature films or animated shorts. Then, for each one, try to identify the basic plot structure, the main characters, their goals, the details of the setting and the nature of the story's central conflict.

As an example, the central plot of Star Wars is a combination of the rescue of the Princess and the destruction of the Death Star. The main characters are Luke, who yearns to be a pilot; Leia, who wants to save her people; Han, who's just in it for the money; and the villain, Darth Vader, who wants it all. The setting is a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. The central, global conflict is the Alliance vs. the Federation, while a number of sub-conflicts abound, including the ultimate struggle between the positive and negative sides of The Force.

Pixar's Oscar-winning short, For the Birds, has a simple plot involving an odd newcomer seeking acceptance from a group of snobbish resisters. The central character is the large, clumsy bird. His goal is to join the other birds. The setting is a telephone line. The conflict is the territoriality of the smaller birds.

Fine Arts Films
Conflict is generally regarded as a necessary element of storytelling; however, a number of compelling animated shorts contain no conflict whatsoever because they were not intended to tell stories at all. An animated short film author sometimes foregoes story completely and decides instead to captivate his audience with interesting imagery and movement alone. 1982's Tango is one such film, which was so visually compelling it earned an Oscar. These fine arts pieces are often memorable (and sometimes even considered classics) because their imagery is particularly unique or they demonstrate a significant technical achievement.

In the early 1980s, when CG was in its infancy, films such as Quest: A Long Ray's Journey into Light and Chromosaurus captivated audiences because their imagery was previously unimagined. Computer scientists were impressed by the technical breakthroughs. Artists were introduced to a new visual medium with infinite possibilities. And the general public was witnessing the birth of the next big thing in cinematic imagery. In those days, simply presenting something previously unseen was all that was required to produce a "classic." However, now that CG has been around for a couple of decades, technical breakthroughs are few and far between. Audiences are rarely wowed by technical accomplishments anymore because they've pretty much seen it all by now.

[6]

[Figure 7] Only fine arts films can be without conflict because story elements are intentionally absent. [6]

Fortunately, however, while technical milestones are temporary and finite, unique visual style has infinite possibilities. One can still captivate an audience with the absence of story elements if the imagery is significantly unique or compelling (see Figure 7). Furthermore, all this talk about story should not deter you from creating a fine arts piece if that is your desire. Just keep in mind that although such pieces qualify as films, they don't qualify as stories in the true sense of the word.

Where to Get Story Ideas
Story ideas are everywhere. Some will just pop into your head without any invitation whatsoever. Others need to be laboriously crafted through diligent experimentation and a seemingly endless succession of edits and rewrites. One thing to remember, though, is that there is no such thing as a completely unique and original idea. Every concept is at least partially influenced by something that came before. What makes an idea new and interesting are the ways in which those influences are altered and recombined. So don't be too obsessed with the notion of creating something altogether visionary and totally unique in every way. It is quite sufficient to simply put one or two new spins on a familiar premise that has worked successfully in the past.

[7]

[Figure 8] Phil McNally’s Pump Action parodies Quentin Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs in a most imaginative manner, while Nick Park’s stop-motion classic, Creature Comforts, is an example of a mockumentary. [7]

Here are a handful of ideas and exercises you might try to jumpstart your narrative creativity.

1. Directly adapt an existing story. Aesop's fables, folk songs and cultural myths make for excellent short scripts because they are time-tested and usually copyright-free. Many such stories have been continuously told and retold in new locales, eras, mediums and styles. How many versions of The Tortoise and the Hare have you seen? Surely there's room for one more. William McCrate's student film Jabberwocky is a recent adaptation example.

2. Alter an existing story. Take a fairy tale or a nursery rhyme and change the ending. Watch a short film that you haven't seen before. Pause halfway through and decide how you would best conclude the story. Then, if the film doesn't end your way, keep your new ending and alter the beginning just enough that the result is a whole new story that is uniquely your own. Try replacing a human character from an existing story with an animal. Duck Dodgers in the 24 and 1/2 Century represents such a swap. Take the metaphorical title from an existing story and weave a new tale based on its literal meaning, such as Cat on a Hot Tin Roof or To Kill a Mockingbird. Tell a familiar story from an alternative point of view, as in the Hamlet-inspired feature film, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead. Try replacing a single word in an existing title to come up with a new twist on a familiar theme: The Emperor's New Clones or perhaps Malice in Wonderland. Adult-film directors use this technique in many of their titles; however, decorum restricts us from mentioning any specific examples here!

3. Parody an existing story, documentary, TV commercial, or movie trailer. Phil McNally's Pump Action humorously parodies Quentin Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs. Nick Park's Oscar-winning short from 1990, Creature Comforts, is a great example of a "mockumentary" (see Figure 8).

[8]

[Figure 9] Using the beats of a classical music piece to dictate the action timing of a story can be an interesting way to develop a premise, as demonstrated in El Arquero from Raphael Perkins. [8]

4. Create a film based on a song that tells a story. You might choose Julie Brown's hysterical The Homecoming Queen's Got a Gun, for example, or the futuristic Red Barchetta by Rush. Of course, if you hope to broadcast your film in public, you'll need permission to use such modern recordings, so it's often preferable to stick with old folk songs or nursery rhymes. You could also invent a narrative that follows the mood and progression of an instrumental piece, such as El Arquero by Raphael Perkins (see Figure 9). Listen to your favorite Vivaldi concerto or George Winston piano solo. Close your eyes and see whether any images, characters, events or settings reveal themselves to you.

5. Draw upon a personal experience. It's a sure bet that a few interesting or amusing events have occurred in your life. What was your biggest victory? What scared you to the core? Have you ever conquered a fear? Do you have the self-esteem to put your most embarrassing moment up on the screen for the whole world to see? If it's funny, you might want to consider doing so. Personal experience plus a dash of imagination is often regarded as the fundamental formula for fiction writing.

6. Use the stream of consciousness method. Just start writing or talking and see what develops. Begin with the familiar "Once upon a time," or simply invent a first line off the top of your head and then make it up as you go along. Try an especially outlandish first sentence such as, "Jim was quite startled when his doctor told him he was pregnant." You might be surprised at where your imagination can take such a seemingly ludicrous beginning.

[9]

[Figure 10] What’s my story? [9]

7. Create a character in your mind or on paper and ask yourself a few questions about him (see Figure 10). Where was he born? What's his favorite color? Does he have a family? Who is his nemesis? Is he a villain? If so, how and why did he end up on the wrong side of the law? Then, once you've established some biographical information, give your character a goal. After all, everybody wants or needs something. What's missing from your character's life? Does he need something material? Does he want something elusive? Then consider the ways in which he might try to achieve his goals. If Billy wants a BB gun for Christmas, how might he convince his parents to get him one? How can Frank get his boss fired? How can Benny the burglar steal the Mona Lisa? How will the zebra get his missing stripes back? Also, the type of character you create often demands a story that fits with his particular personality or attributes. A superhero probably needs a powerful nemesis or a global catastrophe to prevent. An arrogant intellectual might need a lesson in humility. A meek introvert should probably find himself in an underdog situation in which he must perform above and beyond his insecurities.

8. Create two characters and introduce a single item they both desire. This might be a doughnut, a woman, or a bowling trophy. Or give one character an opinion about something that the other vehemently opposes. It can be as trivial as deciding which movie to see. Or perhaps have one character physically, emotionally or mentally attack the other. The assault can be warranted or completely unmotivated. Just be sure to make the counterattack sufficiently conflict-inducing. A simple surrender or agreement won't result in much dramatic content.

9. Think of a single word and explore its meanings, connotations, and narrative potential. Does the word fanatic lead to any story ideas? How about volcano, assassin, toothbrush, shark, hungry, dictator, rabies or connoisseur?

10. Write a series of words on tiny pieces of paper. Start with nouns, verbs, and adjectives, and then mix them up in a hat and randomly pick out two or three. Put them together and see if the combination sparks any ideas. "Enormous bunny" or "purple dancing pickles" might have some narrative potential. Try one hat with characters (eagle, dad, vampire, St. Bernard, policeman) and another with desires (bigger house, better job, more money, spiritual peace of mind, pepperoni pizza), then pick one from each.

11. Begin with a title that sounds appealing, interesting, conflict-inducing or simply combines a few words that don't normally go together. How about The Caveman's New Cadillac or The Piano Juggler? Don't worry if it sounds silly; you can always change it later.

12. Start with a conflict of some kind. A hungry dog has eaten his master's dinner. Two girls love the same boy. A thief wants the Hope Diamond. The ship is sinking. Next think of an appropriate climax, which will be the most significant and intense collision between the opposing forces. Then decide on the resolution. Who wins? Who loses? What is the prize and was it worth the struggle?

13. Begin at the end. Think of an interesting or exciting conclusion or resolution, such as the Death Star exploding, a miraculous come-from-behind race victory, a happy couple limping off into the sunset, or a prince returning home with the recovered magic amulet. Then, once you have a satisfying destination, figure out how your plot and characters got there.

14. Hold a brainstorming meeting with yourself or include a few select friends. Remove all self-imposed restrictions by making a rule that for the first 10 minutes no idea can be dismissed or criticized. Every thought, no matter how ridiculous or technically impossible, must be fully explored with reckless abandon. Impose limits on your creativity only after it has been given a chance to wander around at the farthest limits of your imagination—not before.

[10]

[Figure 11] Social comments can make for compelling stories as long as their messages are clear and subtle or particularly humorous, as in Jamie McCarter’s Point 08. [10]

15. If you have a particular opinion about a social issue or a gripe about something your government is doing, see if you can come up with an interesting way of expressing your point of view. You might want to make a statement about a major issue, such as global warming, or just call attention to a minor but recurring inconvenience in your life, such as compact parking spaces. Jamie McCarter's animated short, Point 08 (see Figure 11), for instance, reminds us not to drink and drive. Sometimes a direct approach is best, but often a metaphor is in order. Ray Bradbury contended that the best stories are metaphors because they can have different meanings for different people and are therefore more universal. One common method of making a statement is to introduce characters who oppose or ignore your point of view and make them suffer for their negligence or ignorance. A fine example is 1989's Oscar-winning animated short, Balance, which punishes its characters for not sharing. Just remember to be clear but subtle. In The Uses of Enchantment, Bruno Bettelheim warns that we must never tell a child the moral of a story. This robs the child of the opportunity to find his own interpretation and truly learn from the experience. The same is true for adults.

16. Tell your favorite joke, limerick or humorous top 10 list with visuals. How many ways might you cinematically answer the question, "Why did the chicken cross the road?" The single-beat gag or punch-line series is a very common structure for animated shorts.

17. Make a movie out of a particularly intriguing (and preferably narrative) dream you had recently. Your subconscious is very likely more creative than your conscious mind. Keep a notebook next to your bed to record your dreams as soon as you wake up in the morning. If you don't get them down on paper quickly, they'll fade.

18. Employ the immersion technique, where you watch a multitude of short films and then relax somewhere and see whether your sub-conscious recombines them in new and interesting ways. Remember — taking from one source is called stealing, but taking from multiple sources is called research.

19. Check the newspaper, a magazine or a history textbook. True stories are very often stranger than fiction, especially if you twist, exaggerate or satirize them. The online parody newspaper, The Onion, contains an endless array of short stories that satirize actual news reports, such as Loved Ones Recall Local Man's Cowardly Battle with Cancer.

20. Play the "what if" game. Just start thinking of odd scenarios that begin with those two little words. What if cows could fly? What if my TV's remote control worked on the real world? What if two suns came up tomorrow morning? The important "rule" of this game is to not dismiss any seemingly silly or impossible ideas too early. If J.K. Rowling had thought, "What if a school for wizards existed?" but then decided the idea was too outlandish, a significant literary and cinematic phenomenon known as Harry Potter would be missing from today's popular culture.

21. Walk down the street, ride the subway or sit in a coffee shop and observe people as they come and go. Pick someone out and invent a story about him, based on appearance, behavior and conversation — but try not to stare. Or perform the same exercise on a zoo animal, where it's probably OK to stare.

22. Perform acting-class improvisation exercises. Be a tree. Pick up a coffee cup and think of something obvious or perhaps out of the ordinary to do with it. Imagine yourself as your favorite animal and then get into character and consider what motivates you while inside this new skin.

23. Give yourself a technical or creative assignment and then try to expand it into a story. You might want to experiment with low mood lighting for a particular setting. Where might such a scenario exist? Who might occupy such a place? Try a typical animation exercise, such as the popular lifting a heavy object, and see whether you can add a subsequent and original punch line.

24. Carry around a notebook or preferably a handheld voice recorder. Ideas have an obnoxious habit of cropping up while a future filmmaker is sitting in traffic, which is not always the best place to grab a pen and start writing.

[11]

[Figure 12] Introducing a character with an obvious problem is an effective method of introducing a story or setting up a punch line. [11]

Beginnings
A strong beginning is essential for audience engagement. You'll need something to grab your viewer's attention so that he feels compelled to watch the rest of your film. There are many ways to hook an audience. Here are just a few:

1. Introduce a compelling protagonist with some unique character traits. How about a child with X-ray vision, a dog with six legs or a man with 17-inch fingernails?

2. Introduce a character who has an obvious and significant problem. A fine example is Victor Vinyals' Top Gum (see Figure 12). How about a frustrated businessman in a broken-down car on the free-way during rush hour, a visiting alien watching his mother ship leave without him, or a castaway on a deserted island?

[12]

[Figure 13] Imposing a significant disruption on an otherwise tranquil setting is an excellent way to start an action story. [12]

3. Establish a tranquil setting and then impose a major disruption. CG short examples include AP2000, which involves a family of fleas, happily frolicking on a dog's back until the dreaded bug spray invades (see Figure 13); and Bert, where a mother radish is picking children out of the ground, only to find an odd one in the litter.

4. Introduce a character and then provide him with a self-imposed or externally beckoning goal. Perhaps a knight who hears the cries of a kidnapped princess or a dorky bird that decides to try and join an apparently exclusive clique (For the Birds). Then provide a reason why the goal is not immediately or easily attainable, such as a child reading a party invitation, lamenting the fact that he is grounded, or a snowman that wants to join the other toys on the shelf, but first needs to escape from the prison of his snow globe (Knick Knack).

[13]

[Figure 14] It is a good idea to cut to the chase by starting a story in the middle of an action, such as when the tardy husband from Polygon Family attempts to sneak into his house undetected. [13]

5. Start in the middle of an action, when your protagonist is engaged in a performance or is perhaps attempting to conquer or escape from some type of problem or antagonist. Think about an odd creature performing a singing audition (Pot Belly Pete), a small girl carefully crossing a balance beam (Funambule), or a late husband attempting to sneak into his house without waking his wife (see Figure 14).

6. Reveal an interesting setting with a unique visual style, preferably with an associated character or characters. For example, think about a child sharing an island with a large and fantastical factory (Sarah); three odd, one-legged creatures on a strange and windy planet, feeding from a bizarre plant (Gas Planet); or a pair of otherwise inanimate objects who view their surroundings in a very different manner from the way we humans see the world (Das Rad).

Endings
And now for the hard part…. Once you have an interesting story idea and a compelling beginning, you'll need an equally memorable conclusion. After all, a strong ending is often the very thing that distinguishes a good story from a bad one.

Unfortunately, strong endings are often more difficult to write than strong beginnings. This claim can be supported by a quick review of many recent feature films. How many times have you enjoyed the setup and action of a movie, only to be disappointed by a lame, anticlimactic or predictable ending? Plenty, we imagine. On the other hand, it might be difficult to think of too many films that have weak beginnings but great endings. Beginnings are typically easier because they are, by definition, incomplete. An ending, on the other hand, carries the daunting responsibility of successfully bringing together and concluding something significant about all that has preceded it. A beginning is often a question, whereas the ending needs to provide some kind of answer, even if it is interpretive, inconclusive or inspires a new beginning.

Furthermore, additional pressure exists because good endings are often considered more important than good beginnings. The resolution of your story is what your audience will ultimately leave with, and the quality of your ending will dictate their level of satisfaction and desire to recommend your work.

Examples of films with great endings include The Sixth Sense, In the Company of Men, Raising Arizona and the animated shorts, Balance, Geri's Game, The Wrong Trousers, Early Bloomer, Cane-Toad and Das Rad.

Some story ideas actually begin with an interesting ending or an amusing punch line. If your story premise consists of an especially engaging conclusion, consider yourself lucky. After all, it is much easier to draw a map when you know your destination. But in many cases, a story premise will be a strong setup that begs for an equally successful conclusion. Unfortunately, there are no simple formulas for creating good endings. If such formulas existed, weak film endings would surely be less common.

However, there are a few things you can keep in mind that might keep you from creating a disappointing story conclusion:

1. Make sure your story actually has an ending. Unless poignant existentialism is your intent and you have the skills to pull it off effectively, a film that simply stops or fades away without any kind of resolution is rarely well received. The most obvious and often most satisfying way to end a story is by allowing the protagonist to resolve the central conflict, preferably in an interesting or unique manner. Of course, sometimes it's more interesting if the conflict defeats the hero. Keep in mind that an ending doesn't have to tie up all loose ends. It is often desirable to leave at least one unanswered question for the audience to ponder and discuss. An ending that sets up a new beginning is sometimes interesting and amusing. In Pixar's Knick Knack, the snowman seemingly resolves one conflict, only to find himself in virtually the same pickle in the end.

2. Deliver the anticipated scene. In a sufficiently efficient narrative film, every scene is a step along the pathway toward a climax or conclusion and this anticipated scene must be displayed rather than merely described or glazed over. After your brave knight suffers through a series of trials and tribulations on his quest to rescue the princess, you cannot simply cut to a future scene where he tells his mates at the pub how he defeated the dragon. The fight scene that your audience had been waiting for must be shown. Unless of course the bragging knight was lying!

3. Don't be too obvious or derivative. Look and ask around to make sure your ending hasn't been seen too many times. This can lead to predictability and disappointment. The climax or ending of your film must contain a surprise of some kind, although it doesn't necessarily need to be sudden, explosive, or even profound. Just make sure it is not identical to your audience's expectations or their memories of other film conclusions.

4. Decide on the final reaction you want from your audience and then end your story appropriately. If you want them to go away smiling, deliver an amusing punch line (Cane-Toad) or have your characters live happily ever after (Bert). If you want your audience to be saddened by your film, punctuate it with a tragic loss (Le Deserteur) or an unfulfilled desire (Red's Dream). If you want your audience to feel that justice has been served, let the good guys win (For the Birds). If you want your viewers to draw their own conclusions, give them an ambiguous resolution where your protagonist's outcome is both better and worse than it was when the story began. He ultimately gained, but lost something in the process (The Big Snit).

5. Don't beat your audience over the head with a lesson or a moral. It should be decipherable yet sufficiently subtle and never actually spoken. The short film, Balance, for instance, concludes with a perfectly clear and artfully delivered message.

[14]

[Figure 15] Climactic endings are often appreciated in adventure tales. [14]

6. Make your ending climactic in that it results in a significant change in your protagonist's life situation. In an adventure or suspense film, your final climax should be the most exciting or intense moment of your story. Build up to it and then serve it with a bang. The Cathedral, Grinning Evil Death and Dronez are fine examples (see Figure 15).

7. Think about the central conflict of your story and the most obvious or effective way to bring about its resolution. Then consider concluding your story with a variation of what is expected or perhaps even the exact opposite (Pings or Getting Started). Similarly, you might want to begin with an extremely familiar and seemingly predictable setup, but then offer something unique or unexpected at the end (Passing Moments, SOS or Snookles). There are two obvious ways to end a story—the way the audience hopes for and the way the audience dreads. If you are going for suspense or high drama, make the dreaded ending more likely, then satisfy the audience with the happy one. Or perhaps create tragedy by doing the opposite.

8. If your story ends with a remarkable triumph of some kind, make sure it is logical and believable, rather than the result of a fortunate coincidence, a convenient miracle, or an unexplained burst of genius or strength. Such convenient interventions are known as deus ex machina ("god from the machine") and should be avoided at all costs unless parody is your intention.

9. Brainstorm a full spectrum of possible conclusions—from automatic through obvious, common, interesting, unusual, outrageous and completely absurd. Try to think of one of each and see whether a satisfying ending exists somewhere between the extremes.

[15]

[Figure 16] Victor Navone’s Alien Song successfully employs an otherwise overused comedic story-ending device by choosing a song with lyrics that make the conclusion appropriate and amusing. [15]

10. Avoid cop-out endings. Thank-goodness-it-was-only-a-dream is a far too common story cliché, and it should be avoided unless you can think of an especially unique or amusing spin on it. Similarly, try to steer clear of overused comedic devices, such as randomly dropping a heavy object on your protagonist in the hopes of creating a surprise ending. Doing so generally sends the message that instead of trying to actually finish your film, you simply abandoned it. Victor Navone managed to get away with this maneuver in his short, Alien Song, but only because his hero was ironically singing "I Will Survive" (see Figure 16).

11. Detach. If you've figured out most of your story but you can't come up with a decent conclusion, set your script aside for a while and then come back and read it later, pretending it was written by someone else. As you read, consider how easy it is to tell where the story is heading. If the expected conclusion is satisfying, use it. If it seems too obvious, you might still be able to use it successfully if you go back and make the setup less predictable.

12. Know what your story is truly about (its theme) and then make sure your ending delivers your message effectively. If the theme of your story is "seize the day," then your protagonist must triumph somehow. If your theme is laughter, then your story should end with an effective punch line. Remember, just because your short will most likely have a beginning, a middle, and an end, it doesn't mean you have to write your story in that order.

Storytelling
OK, so you've successfully jogged your creative juices and now you have an interesting story premise with a killer ending that's just waiting to be told. The next step is to decide the best way to communicate your idea as a narrative. We've defined plot, character, setting and conflict as the individual ingredients of a story. However, just as the ingredients of a pie must be combined in the correct proportions, baked at the proper temperature and duration, and served with just enough whipped cream before the result qualifies as a flavorful dessert item, the basic ingredients of your story must also be assembled and delivered properly if you want to successfully engage your audience. The tools for this delivery are as follows:

• Genre
• Structure
• Pacing
• Productions elements, such as camera direction, animation and lighting. (However, we are distinguishing these from actual story elements, so they will be discussed a bit later.)

Basic story elements might catch an audience's attention, but the nature and quality of your storytelling delivery devices will determine the level of their immersion in your story and ultimately how much they care about its outcome. Even the most ludicrous-sounding plot structure can result in a successful film if the storytelling elements are strong enough. The features Grosse Point Blank and Donnie Darko have a number of rather outlandish and unbelievable story beats; however, they are delivered with such unique style and excellent pacing that the audience is too busy being entertained to notice.

[16]

[Figure 17] Common story genres include drama (Values), comedy (Run, Dragon, Run!!! and Fishman), fantasy (Guernica), crime capers (Tom the Cat) and science fiction (f8). [16]

Genre
Genre refers to the type or classification of your story, most often determined by setting and style (see Figure 17). Video stores typically use genre as a method of sorting their films into various categories, which include:

• Drama. This genre typically contains realistic depictions of character-based events, as in the animated shorts Values and Geri's Game. Conflict is essential here, although it doesn't necessarily need to be the violent kind. Films that exaggerate dramatic content for the purpose of emotional response are known as melodramas.
• Comedy. There are subtle, smirk-inducing films, such as Aardman Animation's The Deadline, and broad, all-out-laugh-riot farces, such as Polygon Family. A common form of comedy is the parody, in which an existing property is satirized, such as in Creature Comforts and Fishman. The fundamental components of comedy are timing, exaggeration, and surprise, and the element that generally separates comedy from drama is that nobody ever really gets hurt. Another common comedic device is ridicule, where a particularly worthy person or institution is appropriately and mercilessly targeted. Comedy is often considered the hardest genre to write and deliver successfully because humor is so subjective and there are no definitive formulas for effectively generating a laugh. Only attempt humor if you have the right source material and the skills to pull it off.
• Suspense. The protagonist's sense of safety has been (or is about to be) violated. The key ingredients are anticipation and uncertainty with regard to impending danger. Perhaps the most effective way to build suspense is by revealing the impending danger to the audience before the protagonist knows it is coming. Alfred Hitchcock mastered this genre in films such as Rear Window and North by Northwest, and the animated short The Wrong Trousers contains some particularly suspenseful moments.
• Science fiction and fantasy. Science fiction refers to speculative subjects that have some connection to possibly existent or future technologies. Common themes are robots (AI), interplanetary adventures (Star Trek), alien invasions (Lilo & Stitch), and time travel (Back to the Future). Short animated film examples include f8, Grinning Evil Death and The Snowman. Fantasy, on the other hand, addresses fictional subjects that defy scientific explanation, such as alternate worlds (Lord of the Rings), mythological creatures (Jason and the Argonauts) or the supernatural (It's a Wonderful Life). Short examples include Within an Endless Sky and Ritterschlag.

• Horror. This genre is often described as the combination of suspense plus some kind of monstrous or semi-human element. Paul Berry's stop-motion short, The Sandman, and Silhouette, from Amber Rudolph and Tonya Noerr, are fine examples. Scenes are suspenseful when danger looms, but horrific when the danger actually arrives and the victim is (at least temporarily) unable to defend against it successfully.
• Romance. In this genre, love is formed or rekindled after a few complications. When Harry Met Sally and My Big Fat Greek Wedding are popular examples, as is the CG animated short, Love Tricycle.
• Black comedy. Poignant jokes are applied to a not-so-funny subject, such as death, as in films like To Die For, Heathers and the animated short, The Crossing Guard.
• Crime capers, police stories, and courtroom dramas. In these stories, justice is (sometimes) served in films such as Ocean's 11, Heat and the short, Tom the Cat.
• Action adventure. These are exciting tales of battle, defense, rescue, pursuit, thievery, or escape where the stakes are high, the danger is extreme, the pace is urgent, and the rewards are great. The Road Warrior, Black Hawk Down and Jeff Lew's Killer Bean 2 are fine examples. Westerns fall into this category as well.
• Mystery. The audience is intentionally confused by a puzzle of some sort, which is (usually) solved or explained at or near the end, in films such as Young Sherlock Holmes, Memento and the short, Bunny.
• Sports films. In such stories, we are often presented with an underdog who ultimately prevails because he has heart (The Tortoise and the Hare) and perhaps a name that implies determination, such as Rocky.
• Tragedy. A particularly likeable protagonist dies or suffers significantly in the end, often after accomplishing a selfless or heroic deed. Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet is an especially memorable example.
• Documentaries and biographies. These are factual and often historical accounts of real-world events or people, such as Crumb or Bowling for Columbine (which, incidentally, is not a sports film). Short CG documentaries usually demonstrate breakthroughs in lighting, particle or physics simulation technology and can regularly be seen at venues such as SIGGRAPH's annual Electronic Theater.
• Musicals. The Wizard of Oz, Chicago and the animated segments of Disney's Fantasia are all good examples.

Of course, many films combine more than one genre into a single narrative. Little Shop of Horrors is a musical-comedy-horror-romance. And the animated short Creature Comforts is a comedy-fantasy-parody-documentary.

Genres can usually be distinguished by their intended audience reaction. Good dramas make us relate to and care about the protagonist. Successful comedies make us smirk or laugh. Black comedies make us laugh when perhaps we shouldn't. Suspense films make us squirm, while horror films make us scream. Science fiction and fantasy provide us with a sense of awe. A good romance makes us smile and want to be in love, while tragedies often make us cry. Action adventures put us on the edge of our seat. Sports films make us cheer. Police and courtroom dramas give us a sense of justice (or perhaps the lack thereof). Mysteries make us think. Documentaries make us feel educated. And musicals inspire us to dance.

If you have your story premise worked out, you've probably already decided on an appropriate genre. But if not, ask yourself what kind of response you want from your audience. Answering this question is often a good way to choose a genre.

To get a copy of the book, check out Inspired 3D Short Film Production by Jeremy Cantor and Pepe Valencia; series edited by Kyle Clark and Michael Ford: Premier Press, 2004. 470 pages with illustrations. ISBN 1-59200-117-3 ($59.99). Read [17] more about the Inspired series and check back to VFXWorld frequently to read new excerpts.

[18]

Authors Jeremy Cantor and Pepe Valencia. [18]

Jeremy Cantor, animation supervisor at Sony Pictures Imageworks, has been working far too many hours a week as a character/creature animator and supervisor in the feature film industry for the past decade or so at both Imageworks and Tippett Studio in Berkeley, California. His film credits include Harry Potter, Evolution, Hollow Man, My Favorite Martian and Starship Troopers. For more information, go to www.zayatz.com [19].

Pepe Valencia has been at Sony Pictures Imageworks since 1996. In addition to working as an animation supervisor on the feature film Peter Pan, his credits include Early Bloomer, Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle, Stuart Little 2, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, Stuart Little, Hollow Man, Godzilla and Starship Troopers. For more information, go to his Webpage at www.pepe3d.com.