What Is a Soft Story?

In contrast to entertainment-driven narratives that emphasize dramatic arcs and clear resolutions, a “soft story” prioritizes atmosphere over plot. These stories often lack strong conflict or a defined ending, and are sometimes referenced in screenwriting textbooks as a common style among younger creators.

It’s said that young artists tend to turn inward, exploring their own emotions through their work. But with limited life experience, they often struggle to craft stories with depth—resulting in thin, surface-level narratives that feel incomplete.

The usual conclusion is: “That’s why we need to focus on human drama.” And I wholeheartedly agree. Even without natural storytelling talent, following basic dramatic patterns can still produce novels or films that serve as enjoyable time-fillers.

But here, I want to challenge that notion—and explore the creative potential of soft stories.

Planning a Soft Story Project

Soft stories often come across as vague or boring to viewers. Yet strangely enough, some of my favorite films fall into this category. And since my twenties, I’ve repeatedly tried to write soft-story novels or make films in that style.

None of those film projects were ever completed. The reason? I couldn’t sustain motivation. Without a clear vision of the final product, I couldn’t tell whether my efforts were moving the project forward or wasting time. Eventually, I’d abandon the work, thinking, “Even if I finish this, I won’t feel any sense of accomplishment.”

I also lacked the discipline to push through and finish a piece by sheer willpower. But now, I think I could prioritize completion over perfection—and see it through.

The Value of Making Something Different

My usual goal is to create engaging, orthodox dramas—often using green screen techniques and miniature sets as part of my signature style. But I’ve always felt the urge to make something completely different as a creative “breather.”

After a film full of action scenes, I want to make one with none. After a dialogue-heavy project, I crave a film with no dialogue at all. It’s a kind of escapism, but as someone who wants to make as many films as possible in my lifetime, I’ve realized that switching up content and technique might be key to keeping myself creatively energized.

Most of my work involves heavy compositing and special effects, which require extensive preparation and editing. While I enjoy that process, I sometimes want to create a film using only raw footage—no effects, no tricks. I suspect that making simpler projects will help me approach more complex ones with fresh enthusiasm.

Filmmaking Without a Plan

To put it bluntly, you can start filming without a detailed plan. Of course, maintaining narrative coherence without a script is extremely difficult, and unless you’re a genius, the result will likely fall apart.

That’s why I usually preach the importance of solid screenwriting—and even share tutorials online. But the truth is, you can shoot without a plan.

Writing and drawing require skill, but video is different. Once you hit record, you’ve captured something. It’s a deceptively easy form of creation.

With some experience, you can go to a location, capture visually compelling moments, and layer them intuitively—without worrying too much about continuity. This “reckless” approach is only possible in the digital age, where we don’t have to worry about wasting film or tape.

As long as you gather enough footage, you can shape it in editing. If you treat it like a documentary, you might even discover a unique flavor. Normally, maintaining visual continuity is a major challenge—but in a documentary-style soft story, you can afford to ignore it.

What Kind of Film Am I Imagining?

Ideally, I’d cast actors who can improvise. But in this case, I’m envisioning a film where the characters don’t act at all—they simply perform mundane tasks or move with intention.

The key is to avoid the stereotypical “student film” scene of someone staring blankly at the ocean. Instead, I want characters to be doing something—anything—even if it’s inexplicable. I’ll include plenty of walking scenes to keep the visuals dynamic.

If the story or visual logic doesn’t add up, I’ll call it “fantasy-style direction” and rely on the audience’s imagination to fill in the gaps. With poetic narration and minimal dialogue, I hope to evoke a mysterious world.

Inspiration and Execution

There’s a film called Marebito, starring Shinya Tsukamoto. When I first saw it, I thought, “This is so rough… amateurish… I don’t get the story.” But by the end, I was hooked by its strange, otherworldly vibe.

It wasn’t my usual taste, but I thought, “This kind of film has its place.” It reminded me of Woman in the Dunes, based on the novel by Kōbō Abe—where absurdity and raw realism coexist.

I suspect this kind of project needs to be completed quickly, in a burst of momentum. If you take too long and start questioning its purpose, doubt creeps in. The trick is to finish before you start worrying about flaws.

To cultivate a habit of finishing, I think I should make short films like this regularly.

One Last Concern

What if the film turns out well—and viewers read into it more deeply than I intended?

My goal is still to master conventional entertainment storytelling. If this experimental style gets too much praise, I worry I’ll end up making only these kinds of films.

Of course, worrying about over-praise before even starting is a bit silly. But I do have some ideas, and I’m planning to write a proposal. If I move forward with production, I’ll be sure to share it.

Hope this was helpful.