The Pixar Rules of Storytelling: Why Great Movies Aren't Actually Made of Magic

The Pixar Rules of Storytelling: Why Great Movies Aren't Actually Made of Magic

You’ve probably heard the myth. The one where a group of geniuses sits in a room at Emeryville, drinks expensive espresso, and somehow poops out a masterpiece. People act like Toy Story or Up just happened because the "Pixar Brain Trust" has some secret sauce that us mere mortals can't touch. Honestly? It's the opposite. It’s a grind. It’s a messy, painful, soul-crushing process of failing until something finally clicks.

The legendary Pixar rules of storytelling didn't come from a textbook. They came from Twitter. Well, technically, they came from Emma Coats, who was a storyboard artist at the studio. Back in 2011, she tweeted out 22 nuggets of wisdom she’d picked up from her colleagues. Since then, these "rules" have been treated like the Ten Commandments of the digital age. But here’s the thing: most people read them, nod their heads, and then go right back to writing boring stuff.

They’re not just tips for animators. They are a brutal mirror for anyone trying to communicate anything. If you can't make us care about a trash-compacting robot or a rat who wants to cook, you’ve failed.

The Discipline of the "Story Spine"

Let’s talk about the most famous one. Rule #4. You’ve seen it. It’s the "Once upon a time..." template.

Once upon a time there was ___. Every day, ___. One day ___. Because of that, ___. Because of that, ___. Until finally ___.

It looks simple. It’s actually terrifyingly hard to do well. Why? Because it forces you to acknowledge cause and effect. Most bad stories are just a series of things that happen. "And then this happened, and then this happened." That’s a grocery list, not a plot. Pixar demands "therefore" or "but." If the second "Because of that" doesn't stem directly from the first one, your story is broken. You’re cheating the audience.

Take Finding Nemo. Marlin is overprotective. Because of that, he smothers Nemo. Because of that, Nemo defies him. Because of that, Nemo gets caught. It’s a domino effect. If Nemo just wandered off because he was bored, the emotional stakes would plummet. We care because it’s Marlin’s own flaw that triggered the catastrophe.

Admiring the Struggle

Rule #1 is my personal favorite: You admire a character for trying more than for their success.

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Think about it.

We don't love Woody because he’s a great leader. We love him because he’s a neurotic, jealous mess who is desperately trying to do the right thing while his world falls apart. Watching someone fail upwards is human. Watching a perfect hero do perfect things is a sedative.

Why the Pixar Rules of Storytelling Kill Your Darlings

There’s this misconception that Pixar is "precious" about their ideas. They aren't. They are ruthless.

Rule #11 is a gut punch for writers: "Putting it on paper lets you start fixing it. If it stays in your head, a perfect idea, you’ll never share it with anyone." We all have that "perfect" movie in our heads. It’s a masterpiece until it hits the page. Once it's in black and white, it’s usually garbage. Pixar’s culture is built on the "Braintrust," a concept Ed Catmull (co-founder of Pixar) detailed in his book Creativity, Inc. The Braintrust has no authority. They can't tell a director what to change. But they provide "candor." They strip away the ego. If a scene isn't working, they don't say "maybe try this." They say "this is boring" or "I don't understand why he’s doing that."

The Rule of "Disliking" Your Plot

Rule #12 is about dismissing the first thing that comes to mind. And the second. And the third.

Basically, get the obvious stuff out of the way. If you’re writing a scene where two people break up, what’s the first thing they do? They yell? Fine. Toss it. What’s the next thing? They cry? Toss it. What if they start laughing because the situation is so absurdly tragic? Now you’re getting somewhere. You have to surprise yourself to surprise the audience.

The Stakes: Why Should We Care?

If you want to rank on Google or get anyone to read your script, you have to answer Rule #14: Why must you tell this story? What is the belief burning inside you that your story feeds off of? That’s the heart of it.

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If you’re just writing because you want to be a "filmmaker," go home.

Pixar movies usually deal with universal, terrifying themes. Toy Story 3 isn't about toys; it's about the fear of death and being replaced. Inside Out is about the necessity of sadness. These aren't "kids' topics." They are human topics wrapped in bright colors.


Complexity vs. Simplicity

A lot of people think the Pixar rules of storytelling are about making things simpler. In a way, yes. Rule #10 says to pull apart the stories you like. What you like in them is a part of you; you’ve got to recognize it before you can use it. But simplicity doesn't mean "dumb."

It means clarity.

Look at Wall-E. The first 30 minutes have almost zero dialogue. You understand every single thing that robot feels. That’s not simple to execute. It’s the result of stripping away every distraction until only the "soul" of the scene remains.

  1. Focus on the "What if."
  2. Give your characters opinions. A passive character is a death sentence. Rule #15 says "A character being 'pliable' or 'nice' is a nightmare for a writer."
  3. Finish your story. Rule #7. Even if it’s not perfect, move on. You’ll do better next time.

How to Apply This Right Now

Stop trying to be clever. Honestly.

Most people fail because they try to subvert tropes before they even understand why the tropes exist. Start with the "Story Spine." Write it out for your current project. If you can’t fit your plot into those six sentences, you don't have a plot. You have a collection of scenes.

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Next, look at your protagonist. Are they "nice"? If so, give them a flaw that hurts the people they love. Pixar’s protagonists are often kind of jerks at the start. Joy is a control freak. Remy is elitist. Mike Wazowski is an egomaniac. That’s why we love their journey—because they actually have somewhere to go.

The Actual 22 Rules (Simplified for Real Life)

While there are 22 rules, they generally fall into three buckets: Character, Structure, and Philosophy.

In terms of character, remember that you need to know your characters' limitations more than their strengths. A hero who can do anything is boring. A hero who is terrified of heights but has to climb a mountain? That’s a movie.

In terms of structure, Rule #19 is a big one: Coincidences to get characters into trouble are great; coincidences to get them out of it are cheating. If the hero is saved by a random bolt of lightning, the audience will hate you. If a random bolt of lightning starts the forest fire they have to escape? We’re in.

Finally, philosophy. Rule #22: What is the essence of your story? The most economical tell? If you know that, you can build everything from there.

Actionable Next Steps

  • Audit your current draft: Go through Rule #4 (The Story Spine). If the "Because of that" links are weak, rewrite the preceding scene to make the consequence unavoidable.
  • The "First Idea" Purge: Take your three most important scenes. Write down five ways each scene could end. Cross out the first four. Force yourself to use the fifth one.
  • Character Flaw Check: Identify your hero’s greatest strength. Now, make that strength their greatest weakness in the climax of the story. For example, a character who is "brave" might become "reckless," leading to a disaster they have to fix.
  • Study the masters: Watch The Incredibles again, but this time, mute it. Notice how much of the story is told through physical movement and framing rather than words. That is Rule #3—trying for theme is important, but the story must come first.

Storytelling is a craft, not a lightning strike. The Pixar rules are just tools in the shed. Use them to break your story down so you can build it back up into something that actually makes people feel something.