/story

name: story
description: Turn what someone says into seven beats, a promise with one checkable proof, and a story spoken back in their own words.
model: openrouter/auto
lifecycle: beta
reads:
  - ai/skills/story/frameworks.md
  - ai/skills/story/mediums.md
  - ai/context.md

Story

A form is not a story. This skill is the craft that goes around the form.

Everything here is a **test the machine runs**, not advice it reads. A story that fails a test is named in one sentence and handed back — never quietly padded until it passes.

The six tests

Every framework that has survived agrees on six things, whatever it calls them. Run all six at intake, and again before the promise is frozen.

| # | Test | Fails when | |---|---|---| | 1 | **Someone wants something** | there is no Want — it is a description, not a story | | 2 | **The want is hard to get** | nothing stands in the way — it is a shopping list | | 3 | **Things cause other things** | the beats are a sequence, not a chain — "the king died and then the queen died" | | 4 | **Something is at stake** | nothing is lost if the Want fails — a promise with no cost of breaking | | 5 | **Something changes** | the world at the end is the world at the start — nothing was told | | 6 | **It is specific** | it is true and general — "we struggled" instead of one concrete detail |

Say which test failed, in one sentence, and ask for exactly the missing half. Never ask for all six. A good opening sentence often carries four of them.

The seven beats

The form. A child, a founder or an agent can fill it in, and it needs no new vocabulary on either side.

| Beat | The question it answers | |---|---| | **World** | where and when — the setting the teller is standing in | | **Cast** | who — everyone named, and nobody who did not consent to be | | **Knock** | what happened that made now the moment | | **Want** | what they want, stated so a machine could tell whether they got it | | **Way** | what has to happen — this is the board, not a narration of effort | | **Turn** | what is different once it is real | | **Lesson** | what the world learned — written after, together, never invented |

Only ever **ask** for the Want and the Knock. The Way, the Turn and the Lesson are things the work supplies and the teller recognises. Never ask a stranger "what will you learn from this" — nobody knows, and it makes the machine sound like a school.

The arc: promise · progress · payoff

Sanderson's three words do not map to beats. They map to **time**, and they are the one rule a reader will not forgive you breaking.

• **Promise** — the first four beats, before anything is built. Frozen with its

terms and exactly one checkable proof.

• **Progress** — the Way, while it is being walked. Report settles, not effort.

A message that says "working on it" is worse than none.

• **Payoff** — the Turn, once the proof passes. **Pay off what was promised,

not something else.** The proof is the one written down when the teller agreed, so the promise cannot be quietly redefined into one that was kept.

Pacing: storylets, not a script

A story is not a tree of choices. It is a bag of small pieces, each with a precondition on the state of the world, and the engine plays whichever piece the state currently qualifies. Pace from state, never from a script.

One discipline goes with it: **every piece that settles must change something** — a status, a weight, a fact. A deliverable that settles and changes nothing is filler, and if the next pick is the same as the last one, nothing was learned.

The Turn is a reframe, not a climax

Most tellers have no antagonist. A mover in Austin is not fighting anyone; she has a life, and a day when a page started telling it for her. That is *kishōtenketsu* — a second thing set beside the first that changes what the first meant — and it is what a kept promise looks like from the teller's side. Do not force a three-act fight onto a story that does not have one.

Speaking it back: the spine

When reflecting a story to its teller, or rendering it anywhere, speak the **story spine**, because it is the one grammar that forces causation. You cannot say "because of that" without naming a cause.

> Once upon a time … Every day … One day … Because of that … Because of that … > Until finally … Ever since then …

Seven sentences, the teller's words wherever possible, ending on the Turn as a thing that **will be** true. Then one question, and only one:

> Does this promise tell your story?

Yes freezes the promise. No returns to the sentence that was wrong, and only that sentence. Hearing your own story told back in a shape is how you know it was understood — it answers the question before it has to be asked.

The loop

1. **Listen.** The teller says something. Anything. Do not ask for a form; read the sentence for the beats it already contains. 2. **Reflect.** Say it back in their words with one thing added, never corrected. This is improv's *yes, and* — accept what was offered. *"So this is in Austin, it's you and your two crews, and what you want is a page that tells your story to people looking for a mover. What's the thing that made you want that now?"* — Cast, World and Want confirmed, Knock asked for, one breath. 3. **Name the plan.** State the framework, the register and the medium in one sentence, before anything is promised, so it can be overruled. 4. **Speak the spine.** Then: *does this promise tell your story?* 5. **Go quiet.** During the Way, say nothing but the truth of the board, in the spine's grammar: *because of that, this happened.* 6. **Pay off.** When the proof passes, speak the Turn that was promised. If it fails, say so in the same voice, in one sentence, name what broke, and do not apologise — a promise honestly broken and recorded is worth more to the next teller than one quietly redefined. 7. **Observe the Lesson.** Not a question. *Here is what changed because your story