I can't show you the thing I want to tell you about, so you're just going to have to imagine it.
Imagine a white sheet of a paper. Then imagine that someone named Tyler-Rose Counts drew on it a path of tiny pictures connected by lines that were too elegant to be called lines. The path moved, one tiny symbolic depiction after another, back and forth across the page, and in that manner meandered from top to bottom, and from beginning to end.
This sort of story map could obviously be useful. I could write a whole long post about how helpful it could be for writers of all sorts. (I must admit, however, that I have doubts about what would happen if I tried to draw one for my current project. It is certain that it would not look as nice as Tyler-Rose's, due to my far-inferior drawing skills. It is highly likely that, due to the deranged way I tell stories, it would look like a spider web somebody had attacked with a blow-dryer.)
I'm sure it's an excellent tool. To be able to behold the whole story, visibly, at a glance--who doesn't need that? I urge you all to try it. I might even try it, despite my totally justified mangled-spider-web fears.
But I wasn't captivated by this story map because it looked like it could make writing novels easier.
It was more than useful. It was beautiful, like any good story, and I can't wait to enjoy the privilege of reading it.