Propp, Tropes, and the Brainstorming Process

The Russian storyteller, Vladamir Propp had a thesis that all stories were just a variation of 31 different functions and 7 character archetypes. These functions and characters could be pieced together like variables of an equation to factor out to a story. Of course, Propp was a folklorist who’s work was primarily centered around the study and construction of stories in a “fairytale” structure; but I think that Propp’s contention is the component base to the idea that there are no “new” stories, just new ways of telling old stories.

Propp’s methodology for boiling down a story into component parts was relatively straightforward. You take several key character archetypes, sprinkle them into one of the 31 functions, apply chronology and theme, and you would churn out a story that would, for all intents and purposes, provide some measure of literary significance.

Though, Propp’s belief was somewhat reductionist in terms of providing an entirely comprehensive view of the narrative structure, it allows us to look at fiction in a far more clinical fashion than we ever had before.

I was recently watching the television show About a Boy, a new sitcom that tells the story about a rich, bachelor man-child as he is forced to evolve when an endearing young boy and his single mother move in next door. The show features some charming elements and engaging characters, but as I was watching through the episodes, I noticed that, essentially, the entire show boils down to a mathematical equation of tropes.

For those of you who might not watch Community or spend a lot of time researching literary devices, a “trope” is a storytelling method that is intended to personify a metaphor, cliché, motif, or image. Fundamentally speaking, a “trope” is a spiritual successor to Propp’s functions in that, it represents a regularly recurring phenomenon within a body of literature.

As I have mentioned before (and will likely mention again), “literature” is not necessarily regulated to literary fiction written by the greats (Hemmingway, Joyce, Salinger). Literature can be embodied much more effectively as “any story told through a grand medium.” For this purpose, television, film, webcomics, and serialized novellas can all be classified in the same category as a standard novel—as long as it contains a modicum of literary elements.

That being said, in watching a sitcom like About a Boy, or any other popularized work of “literature,” we can see Propp’s ideas personified in a more complex, but essentially the same, manner.

Take a trope like the “Man who never grew up” trope, add in the “overly mature child” trope combined with the “socially awkward outcast” trope, and you have your characters.

Then, put those characters in a classical situation, such as the “Man has to be in two places at once” trope (first popularized by the Flintstones in the 1960s), and you have yourself a story told in a very “A+B=C” fashion.

The concept of tropes—and ultimately, the dogma preached by Propp—has been further popularized by meta-shows like Community, and in Wiki-style websites like TVTropes.org. In places like these, tropes can be developed, contemplated, illuminated, and indexed for use by future storytellers.

There may be some negative stigma to taking “stock elements” from indexes like this to purposefully apply them to stories. However, I have found that the study of Propp’s functions and characters as well as contemporary indexing of tropes can be very useful in the brainstorming process. Having problems with a character? Peruse some character tropes. Combine two or three (or seventeen) of them to create a unique character with complex dimensions. One doesn’t have to use stock elements as they appear on the shelf. However, they can use them as component parts in the creation of a much more complicated recipe. This is what Propp had hoped with the definition of his functions and characters; that they may be used to apply greater complexity to an archetypical story through elucidation on these elements.

Kind of like the scientific elements. Carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen on their own are individual pieces. But, put them together (in certain increments), and you get sugar.

This is how great literature is formed; by studying elements from the past and putting them to use in your own work, with a little customization work.