As far as I know, the ancient Greeks favored MYTHOS over MYSTERION. Mysterion is a intellectual narrative built on riddles, whereas myth is an emotional and spiritual voyage (i.e. hero's journey). Myth seems to be the basis for most story forms we know today (adventure, love, science-fiction, tragedy, comedy, etc.). It's funny that Aristotle of all people considered poetry a higher form than history, since a lot of people I know - even writers - pretend to hate universal truths. They consider generalizations to be a bad thing. I think Aristotle is right. As a writer, you have a weltanschauung and you have to generalize, to get your point accross.

Scott: I like your gradation from possibility to necessity as the story unfolds and believe that it comports with Aristotle's notions of dramatic probability and necessity. I think Aristotle's emphasis on probability and necessity can be understood in the context of his 2 favorite plot devices: "the most powerful elements of emotional interest in tragedy -- Peripeteia or Reversal of the Situation and Recognition [Discovery]..." (6:13) For the character certainly (and ideally for the audience) scenes of reversal and recognition should come as a surprise. Does it follow, then,that the poet has the literary license to throw in such surprises at any time for any reason to keep the audience awake and interested? Surprise for surprise's sake? No, says Aristotle: "The poet should always aim either at the necessary or the probable." (15:6) When Aristotle discusses the use of Reversal and Recognition for emotional effect, he usually is referring to key scenes in the 2nd half of the story that determine the final outcome. He believes such scenes won't have the desired emotional impact unless the audience believes the surprise is credible, that it could have happened or had to happen that way. For the full emotional effect, the audience has to realize in retrospect that the clues were hiding in plain sight; there was a chain of cause and effect building up to the reversal or recognition.

So it seems that the process by which the writer winnows the story from possibility to probability to necessity - digging down into the protagonist and other characters to discern their inevitable journey - also is the same process that enables the writer to provide such specific, detailed characters and actions that, paradoxically, their stories touch viewers/readers as universal, because the audience members can imagine themselves in their place. I thought of Fern getting stuck on the Ferris wheel with Henry in "Charlotte's Web"; whether you're eleven, or eighty going on eleven, who hasn't felt a longing to be caught up just like that, helpless, breathless in mid-air, with the adored one? (I remember that scene from the movie, but can't even remember now if it's also in the book; surely, though, it's faithful to the spirit if not the letter of E.B. White's vision of love.)

Re: the Historian versus the Poet: In this chapter, Aristotle mentions the great Greek historian Herodotus. But it is generally believed that his remarks on poetic universals versus historical particulars refers to ancient Greece's other great historian, Thucydides. (The clue is the mention of Alcibiades, who figures prominently in Thucydides' monumental "History of the Peloponnesian War".) Whereas Herodotus purported to stick to the particulars-- the facts ma'am, just the facts as he believed them to be, Thucydides went beyond the facts and drew generalizations, lessons of human conduct he thought were of universal utility. Whatever, I think the important takeaway for screenwriting is that historians can get away with the unbelievable truth in a way that poets can't get away with unbelievable fiction. As they say, truth is stranger than fiction. History can and does turn on chance and accident. But poets can't get away with a narrative that turns on chance and accident. To establish and maintain credibility and have the desired emotional impact, their plots must turn on what is probable and necessary according to universal principles of human behavior and laws of the natural world. (Or consistent with exceptional laws in sci-fi and fantasy worlds). In contrast, it seems to me that we can infer from Aristotle's line of reasoning (muddled though it is in this passage) that historians are not burdened with the particular task of making an emotional impact on their readers, specifically the tragic effect of fear and pity. Their particular task is to get the particulars, the facts right. So historians have the luxury of "coloring up" their histories with particulars, interesting anecdotes and facts that are incidental to the main story line. (Which Herodotus certainly did in his sprawling history.) But poets must be more more selective in order to effect the desired emotional impact. (Ditto screenwriters adapting histories.) Further, the constraints of the form (and performance time!) compel them to include only those characters and incidents that directly bear upon the plot, that "prove" that the plot's outcome is probable or necessary.

Really interesting comments in this thread and a word that keeps rattling around in my head as I'm contemplating pgronk's analysis: authenticity. In other words, fictional narratives at each turn must come across to a reader as either probable or necessary in order for them to experience it as authentic. If they do NOT, then a writer runs the risk of losing the reader -- "I don't buy it!" -- let alone engendering any sort of emotional impact, other than perhaps tossing the script across the room in disgust! And now that I think about it, that dovetails into what Melanie is talking about, what I like to call 'reader identification,' that is where a script reader so connects with characters, and especially the Protagonist, that they identify with the experiences of that character within the context of the story universe. This is critical in terms of creating a good read, as well as creating a foundation to generate emotional impact in the reader's experience. So the plot has to track in an authentic way per the rules and internal logic of the story universe, events unfolding in a probable or necessary manner. But in order for a reader to experience the emotional impact we, as writers, want theme to feel, we have to create some sense of identification with key characters, especially the Protagonist, so they will 'live' vicariously through the Protagonist's experience. Makes sense, right? Sven, this comments is interesting, too: "It’s funny that Aristotle of all people considered poetry a higher form than history, since a lot of people I know – even writers – pretend to hate universal truths. They consider generalizations to be a bad thing. I think Aristotle is right. As a writer, you have a weltanschauung and you have to generalize, to get your point across." First, I don't often get the opportunity to use "weltanschauung," a word I first learned in graduate school at Yale, so thanks for that, yet another opportunity to amortize my student loans! What I connected with in this comment is a problem writers may have with what I call 'theme-heavy' stories, where the is some substantive idea or cause which a writer promotes by wrapping a story around it. If you took 3 minutes to watch that Thai commercial I posted earlier, while some people may have found it to be compelling -- and I did like the visual approach to telling the story -- I felt like the 'message' clobbered me over the head, made worse by the fact it's a commercial for a telephone company. Back in the day of telegrams, there was a saying in Hollywood, coined I believe by one of the original studio moguls, telling his writers, "If you want to send a message, use Western Union." That said, stories, at least good ones, traffic in themes, and almost always those themes have universal or at least wide meaning. So how to find that balance? Here again, I default to character. If we focus on the characters and their SPECIFIC journeys, then that should serve as a corrective for any instinct to go too big and too broad with a story's message. Besides isn't it better to ground themes in the lives, actions and experiences of the characters, leaving them up to a script reader or movie viewer's own interpretation as to what the story means? Once again, I am deeply satisfied to be doing this series as I so appreciate the dialog we all have engaged in these last several weeks. With much more to come!