Where It All Began

As a young child in the 1980s, I was naive enough to believe that grown men dressing up and pretending to fight was entirely genuine. The injuries and blood seemed real, and my child logic accepted it as such.

Now, as an adult, I recognize the ridiculousness of those storylines. Yet, it doesn’t diminish my fond memories. My sister and I once nearly came to blows over Wrestlemania VI, where she cheered for the Ultimate Warrior while I was a devoted Hulkamaniac.

We shared a bedroom, often reenacting Wrestlemania VI—minus any safety measures, of course. I pity our parents and all parents whose children became obsessed with wrestling, with Mr. and Mrs. Hardy at the top of the sympathy list.

Wrestlemania VI was unique, featuring two immensely popular heroes facing off. Typically, wrestling narratives followed a hero (Face) against a villain (Heel).

Heroes play fair; villains do not.

Unbeknownst to my younger self, a wrestler's success isn't solely about victories. It's measured by how well they connect with the audience. For Faces, it’s about cheers, while for Heels, it’s about boos and thrown objects.

Wrestling’s physicality lies in the moves, but the real skill is in storytelling and character development.

Wrestling is Fake—Sort Of

While some moments are scripted, wrestlers often improvise their performances using known moves. They collaborate to convey a narrative through their actions, with referees facilitating communication. Rest holds allow them to strategize their next moves.

They’re improvisers, much like myself.

In my writing, I typically know the beginning, climax, and conclusion—but often not the climax's specifics. I draft my scripts without a clear direction, focusing on key moments.

This realization is how wrestling has enhanced my writing. I learned that improvisation is a valid technique as long as one understands narrative structure.

Upon closer inspection, you'll find recurring patterns in wrestling storytelling. These patterns represent the accumulated wisdom from countless hours of physical narrative crafting within the wrestling community.

Recognize the pattern, recognize the story.

A Brief Overview of Wrestling Story Patterns

Here are some wrestling storytelling patterns I've observed since childhood and can now articulate as an adult:

What Does This Have to Do with Writing?

These wrestling patterns mirror how stories operate. Matches often follow a linear narrative, and understanding these structures can enhance your writing.

Consider how you might apply these concepts. Can you craft a heel turn where a good character gradually betrays everything they stand for? Vince Gilligan’s Walter White is a perfect example of a long-term heel turn, keeping audiences rooting for him despite his moral decline.

Can you plant hints of a turn throughout your narrative? What if you executed a massive face turn at the end of a series, leaving readers heartbroken—think J.K. Rowling.

Can you throw your character into despair only to offer them a lifeline at the last moment? This is a common tactic in series like Ozark.

Can you amplify the villain’s menace by framing them as a monster heel? Consider the imposing presence of characters like Darth Vader or Thanos.

Can you create conflict between two heroic characters and evoke audience division? Marvel has mastered this art.

Can you establish antagonistic relationships, building towards impactful moments? Recognizing when to ease the audience's tension versus when to heighten it is crucial for emotional engagement.

If you can do this, congratulations—that’s the essence of compelling storytelling.

While wrestling didn't directly lead to my first publication or career launch, it profoundly shaped my understanding of narrative structure.

And it fostered a lifelong yearning for my own entrance music.

What About Now?

The beauty of wrestling lies in its layers. Beyond the surface narratives (Kayfabe) are the real-life stories of the individuals involved. The intersection of reality and fiction began in the mid-nineties and persists today.

It's akin to the complexity of onions.

The legendary Hulk Hogan, for instance, was notoriously difficult to work with, while The Undertaker is often celebrated for his loyalty and professionalism.

The tragic decline of Jake the Snake Roberts, the intrigue of the Montreal Screwjob, and the heartbreaking saga of Chris Benoit are all rich character studies. These narratives are more intricate than those of my childhood, yet equally captivating.

After all, I’m no longer the naive child I once was. My tastes have evolved, but I still find myself cheering at the thrilling moments in matches.