The Science of Storytelling by Will Storr

Whether you're in writer-mode or person-mode, this analysis of the neuroscience behind storytelling feels so accurate, concrete, and compelling. And it's sure to make my novels better.

Published January 13, 2025

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science of storytelling

Book: The Science of Storytelling: How Stories Make Us Human and How to Tell Them Better by Will Storr
Release Date: March 10, 2020
Publisher: Harry N. Abrams
Format: Hardcover
Source: Bought

hello
A text to another writer.

The compelling, groundbreaking guide to creative writing that reveals how the brain responds to storytelling, based on the wildly popular creative writing class.

Enlightening and empowering,
The Science of Storytelling is destined to become an invaluable resource for writers of all stripes, whether novelist, screenwriter, playwright, children’s writer, or writer of creative or traditional nonfiction.

Award-winning writer and acclaimed teacher of creative writing Will Storr applies dazzling psychological research and cutting-edge neuroscience to our myths and archetypes to show how we can write better stories, revealing, among other things, how storytellers—and also our brains—create worlds by being attuned to moments of unexpected change.

Stories shape who we are. They drive us to act out our dreams and ambitions and mold our beliefs. Storytelling is an essential part of what makes us human. So, how do master storytellers compel us?

Will Storr’s superbly chosen examples range from Harry Potter to Jane Austen to Alice Walker, Greek drama to Russian novels to Native American folk tales, King Lear to Breaking Bad to children’s stories.

With sections such as “The Dramatic Question,” “Creating a World,” and “Plot, Endings, and Meaning,” as well as a practical, step-by-step appendix dedicated to “The Sacred Flaw Approach,” The Science of Storytelling reveals just what makes stories work, placing it alongside such creative writing classics as John Yorke’s
Into the Woods: A Five-Act Journey into Story and Lajos Egri’s The Art of Dramatic Writing.


Why I Picked It Up

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I'm going to keep this one short because I do have a book revision to turn in (hopefully this afternoon), but often find that the books I read directly before returning to writing have an impact on the frame of mind that helps me draft/edit/etc,. So I'm a little superstitious about it: if I'm reading before writing, I like to read the best possible book before returning to my manuscript so that I'm absorbing the proper framework, rhythm, etc,. that I want to convey in my own.

Over the years, I've read plenty of craft books, but The Science of Storytelling is one of the most effective for me. If I understand the science behind a concept, I can apply it more accurately and consistently. Often, I'll read about the neuroscience of something I do already to solidify or articulate the instinct better.

As a novelist, I'm line-level and detail-oriented, which this book supports. The Science of Storytelling offers explanations for what we find most compelling within stories, how our brains have evolved to confirm our own belief systems, what language activates us most, etc,. And of course, the psychological benefits of reading, which felt relevant to me right now because the recent fires made me even more convinced we're experiencing a major empathy crisis on a cultural level. (Scroll through any comments section and you'll see.)

I decided recently that I'm going to start posting my notes and annotations separately to keep my book reviews from being too wordy, but overall, I connected to a lot within The Science of Storytelling on an individual level—for an exploration of personhood, as a self and as a reader—and as an author actively pursuing a book deal. So I'd not only recommend it for those who appreciate literature or want to improve their writing, but also anyone who seeks a fundamental sense of control over their own life.

What It's About

I know that as a whole, I like to understand the why behind anything I do, and that's a big reason why I genuinely feel like I can and do tackle anything. One of my big values is being an "active" person, and I am (obviously) goal-oriented in my purpose. As the book says—we often have this idea that if we can understand something, we can control it, which is why narrative even exists in the first place.

Not to be depressing, but the book points out how each of us model beliefs and visions and our tunnel-vision perspective of the world, and explains how stories bring us out of our own heads so we're not all just stumbling around within the darkness (explained in a way that even deepened my appreciation for reading as a method of connection.)

Storytelling serves an evolutionary process in building empathy, stoking openness, exposing us to threats and lack of control without endangering us ourselves, instilling appreciation and salience within us, fostering group loyalty, encoding moral beliefs, and more. And I do think we are suffering some as a society for not fully understanding these benefits within reading and storytelling, or only compressing them to quick, hooky algorithm bites without letting them unfurl in more long-form media.

This book aligns with my values and preferences in a few key ways:

  • addressing how books make us feel both solitary and connected with others—the epitome of "individual together" but in a positive way, which I think is one of the benefits of reading I've loved and mulled over most lately.
  • addressing our need for control over our own lives, and how that impacts the narratives we tell ourselves and the choices we make,
  • with very concrete descriptions and examples of how that works within fiction on both a broader storytelling level and a line-level, when I find that most craft-centric books pick one or the other. Form and function should feed each other equally! And in:
  • addressing how books are two-sided: dependent on both the author's presentation of independent material and everything a reader brings to the equation. Books are living documents in the sense that one's memory, orientation, mood, beliefs, timing, etc,. all impact their reaction to a story.

The Science of Storytelling both addresses that psychology and applies it to literary craft in an appealing way for improving my writing—offering an explanation for why the experience of writing my books parallels the journeys reflected within them (a weird duality I've been asked about frequently.) It's fascinating, specific, clear, and engrossing, so I'd read it for work or for pleasure.

The book argues for a few existential conflicts and foundations that basically provoke our curiosity about a story, and describes the research behind what makes each most compelling to us. But it feels different from a "usual" craft book because it's not just explaining how to construct it, but providing a more holistic perspective for why storytelling exists in the first place and what we gain from it.

Some Points & Thoughts I Love

  • Our brains fundamentally crave control. (Yes.)
  • Stories are one of the few ways we can process the lack of control that impacts our core belief systems—and therefore, reading fiction is actually one of the few effective ways we can change our minds for the better.
  • We can control everything about ourselves (hell yeah, self-sovereignty) which is why we devote a whole lot of energy to trying to understand other people, because our rate of accuracy in assuming we know what others are thinking or feeling is less than 35% for friends and lovers, and less than 20% for strangers.
  • On that note, a Stanford algorithm that predicted NYT bestsellers with an accuracy of 80% discovered that the major theme of most boils down to human connection and closeness.
  • He argues that the best, most dimensional characters are those who enact this "theory of mind" for others...and then get them wrong.
  • All stories are propelled by the moment of change, and tension is basically the anticipation or fear of losing control.
  • Right now, I have a Post-It on the side of my fridge right now that says "voice is as much about the details you notice as the way you say it," I scribbled it down the other day as a reminder that detail curation is key, and that's a core philosophy of my storytelling.
  • On a craft level, I'm a freak about aspects of prose like word frequency, active sentence construction, sensory activation, and other "nitpicky" line-level qualities of my work, which is partly why revision takes so long. But I love that the neuroscience backs me up on what makes my work more immersive, cinematic, and transporting. (I hope that one day, I'll get the privilege of sharing it with you.) Storr builds the case for why metaphor works, how poetry triggers evocative memory, and other aspects of craft that make fundamental sense. He even brings up research I've always loved and shared about how familiar language ceases to activate our brains, which is why well-worn phrases don't make you feel "fresh."
  • He talks about the differences between Western and Eastern modes of storytelling and how those developed historically to align with ideas of collective identity vs. individualism/autonomy.
  • Studies show we'll fight most to defend beliefs that impact our identity as moral people, our values, and our modes of control. (He also noted how memory storage, subtle dehumanization of others, and other psychological processes reinforce this.)
  • He also talks about our multiplicity and dissonance—how we bring different versions of ourselves to each situation, and how the conflict between our wants and desires in each "mode" can be so disruptive. I love this multiple-selves approach because it feels accurate á la Every You, Every Me and does seem to contribute to multi-dimensional characterization.
  • He talks about the science behind "show not tell," when to be complex vs. simple, etc,. which will probably help out a lot of writers struggling to internalize some of these choices. Also how our brains automatically crave filling information gaps, which is something Jennifer Lynn Barnes—a young adult author/professor who studies the psychology of fiction and fandom, and whose research I am utterly obsessed with—talks about frequently in how she constructs her (highly commercial, compulsively readable) mysteries.
  • He also talks about in-groups vs. out-groups, the role of social groups and tribal narrative and gossip, personality traits that orient our characters, what we crave from others even when independent á la Status Anxiety, etc,.
  • And he does provide a narrative framework for constructing your own stories, if you are reading this as a craft book. I plan on starting a first draft of a new novel this spring, and will absolutely consult this book before sitting down to map it all out. (I have much of the foundation done, but can't possibly think about immersing myself in Sun Guilt until Mountain Sounds is on editors' desks.)

On a personal level, The Science of Storytelling is just as powerful. Because philosophically, as Storr points out, who we are is how we're broken then rebuilt, and the purpose of storytelling is to show those whose belief systems—reliant on model processing then reinforced by confirmation bias—are shattered then rebuilt for the "better" either by interaction with others (who we can't control) or circumstances. Logically, we know that these events will happen to us throughout our lives, but our levels of openness and resistance will vary.

And if you're an active person, you know that your worldview and even what you want can change, but then you're confronted with a complete shift in identity. Even stories about surface-level plots grapple at their core with this tension. He asks a great question for novelists: "What is their default flawed method of control?"

For this reason and more, my interests in psychology and fiction make total sense to me in tandem. Both are methods of trying to understand others (and the human condition) better. I apply what I know about characters to my own life and vice versa, and it's an inherently dual process. Growth in one area feeds growth in the other. Storr also discusses details and curation in a way that also align with my desires and philosophies, noting that aspects of environments, aesthetics, etc,. are "behavioral residue" that tell us how to perceive another person.

There are some absolute banger quotes in here. I've underlined half the book—which I'll share in another post—and do feel strongly that non-writers would love it too, whether you appreciate literature or just want to understand yourself better.

I loved Storr's assertions that stories appeal to us psychologically because they each display and then resolve the panic of losing control (especially when over our sense of self), and that all stories are fundamentally about flawed selves being offered the chance to heal.

So on that, I'll leave you with this question—for characters and yourselves—which intersects with the idea of the u-shaped traits that so singularly define each of us: our particular core beliefs that inform the way we move through the world, but that can also be our downfall. And that's probably the key to characterization and to personhood as a whole (an absolute core realization of my last year as a whole too—the epiphany): our u-shaped identities.

In order to locate what they're irrational about, then, we should ask what they make sacred. The things we make sacred are, to a great extent, the things that come to define us. This, I believe, is the secret of unlocking the truth of a character. When other people think of us—when they're asked what we're like—this quality will probably be the first thing that pops into their minds.

What is most sacred to you? How does that define you, and how does that cause you damage?

Many, many highlights from this book to come! Or in journalist methods: TK.

For fans of:

The Age of Magical Overthinking by Amanda Montell; On Writing by Stephen King; Story Genius by Lisa Cron; What We Talk About When We Talk About Books by Leah Price; Your Brain on Art by Ivy Ross and Susan Magsamen; The Sea We Swim In by Frank Rose; etc,.


the scie
Sample is from the Kindle edition, so—credit to Amazon / publisher.

1.

Can I ever actually keep it short?

2.

"I hold this to be the highest task of a bond between two people: that each should stand guard over the solitude of the other." Rainer Maria Rilke

3.

Which, bonus, is also why we need to keep asking everyone questions and remaining curious about them, because studies show that's basically the only way to keep "knowing" anyone rather than simply predicting them. See: You're Not Listening by Kate Murphy.

4.

While trying to figure out the severity of my need for independence, I stumbled upon a study suggesting that people with avoidant attachment styles (if you believe in that kind of pattern, which I'm inclined to) might be especially drawn to reading because it offers a way to indirectly process a lot of the conflict of closeness without triggering a shutdown. The suggestion strikes me as very probable. Although solitary, you feel close to others and can figure out some of what you think and feel without having to add another person into that equation.

5.

I'm actually a little surprise the book didn't deal with the role of dopamine—the change agent—impacting how we understand stories. For more on that, you should absolutely deep-dive into my The Molecule of More review since both stories (and dopamine) deal with desire, pursuit, etc,.

6.

This reminded me of studies from The Paradox of Choice by Barry Schwartz. More options available to individuals (and a view of ourselves as fully responsible and autonomous) put more pressure on us to make the "right" choice. If you're unhappy with what you choose: it was your fault. You had options. And if you give yourself a way out i.e. don't fully commit, your brain doesn't engage in these (necessary) cognitive justifications and gratitudes.

7.

A tough balance as a writer is striking consistency vs. dynamism, especially since my protagonist is eighteen; one discussion I've had frequently with my agency is how nonlinear vs. linear to make certain epiphanies or conflicts, because it is very human and natural to wobble, but fiction tends to demand more decisive movements even in regards to the scale of someone's entire worldview changing. It's realistic and multidimensional to have a character be confused or irrational or even inconsistent, but it's perhaps less satisfying to the reader.

8.

Read The Naturals or Little White Lies for some entertainment.

9.

I read Wanting: The Power of Mimetic Desire in Everyday Life by Luke Burgis which talked about this, and am reading All Things Are Too Small: Essays in Praise of Excess by Becca Rothfield now, which is incredibly trippy but also talks about this—how we often can't even predict what we want because our desires can be so transformed.

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