Finding the Plot

Nymphs Finding the Head of Orpheus.

Dear Dr Solv,

My protag has been very uncooperative lately, showing blatant disregard for my hard-won plot, making decisions contrary to those I require of him.

Please help!

Anon.

* * *

Dear Anon,

It sounds to me that your protag isn't ready to make the decisions you have chosen for him. Perhaps his motivation is at the wrong place?

I'd suggest jiggling the plot to ensure that his motivation is such that he will make the correct choices. This might mean that you add a new scene, or that you remove/move a scene that is nudging his motivation in the wrong direction.

Hope this helps!

Dr Solv.

* * *

Dear Dr Solv,

Thank you! Your advice was spot on! I wrote out my protag's motivations chronologically and considered his desires at the trouble spots and he wasn't ready for the big decisions!

It only took a minor adjustment to an existing scene to put things right! Now everything is back on track!

Allow me to buy you dinner!

Anon.

* * *

Dear Anon,

Are you a pretty, single woman, ideally with her own Literary Agency?

Dr Solv.

* * *

Dear Dr Solv,

No. I'm a hairy, single man with his own blog. Any good?

Anon.

* * *

No reply.

Losing the Plot

Richard Dreyfuss wonders if he added too many toppings to his pizza.

I'm a good boy! I've reached the climax to Act II!
But I have a problem.
Y'see, that bloody protag won't behave. For all my careful planning and intricate plotting, he keeps making contrary decisions. And these decisions snowball, tainting all that follows.
I need some logic to help me decide how to progress. Hmm ... who to turn to?

Here's an extract from Bob's Story. Here it's without proper context, but assume that this is Bob's ideal report of the perfect Act Two climax:

Drove to an Act Two climax so moving that I thought the story was over. And yet, out of the ashes of the second act, this writer created a third of such power, such beauty, such magnificence I'm writing this report from the floor.

When I first read this, I fell in love with the idea of presenting a 'fake' ending at the end of Act II. Such fakery is the food of reversal! But it strikes me that to 'resolve' the novel at the end of the second act is to finish without a hook. Therefore, I elected to hold this false ending through to the penultimate scene, and then tip everything on its head in the final scene, paving the way for the third act, giving the reader lots to consider in that metaphysical void between acts.
Whether this is what Bob is suggesting or not, I'm uncertain: Where are the 'ashes' of the second act?


Half an hour later ...

Well, I was hoping to find some answers but I haven't. So I'll spend a few hours poring over my synopsis and I guess I'll be back with some more thoughts anon.
In the meantime, here are some random thoughts and worries:


Isn't this such a peculiar vocation! Each writing day I conspire to make my characters as happy as they can be, or I will destroy them. Naturally, I'm going through these emotions too. I'll feel myself welling up and then hurry to the front door with a coffee and cigarette. I feel so bad for Corus and for everyone he has met. Isn't that strange!
A few days ago, I had to draw a map: I had to be sure which village has the cottages with the thatched roofs, and where everyone lives, and so forth. Notably, I found myself rooting through some earlier chapters to remind myself where the sun rises: In front of the cottage or behind it? Devil in the details. This world has become scarily real!
I already had Corus' work timetable written up, but I've had to augment this with the schedules of others so that the fish lady comes round on the same days every week and so forth. I like that this history - this routine - finally settles and becomes another tool available when refining the plot. I was wondering how many novels open on a sunny day with puddles on the ground. Might sound a strange thing to wonder about, but everything and everyone existed before the novel opens, and so it might have been raining the day before the opening chapter.
I couldn't think of a single one!
In the back of my head, I'm coming to terms with the prospect of a big rewrite at the end. Because everything evolves so that it best fits the story, I've made blatant changes to details as I've progressed, and will need to revisit every chapter to ensure consistency. Sometimes this happens from one chapter to the next.

Having absorbed so much information on plotting, I've learned that it is very much a personal activity. Some writers start at the beginning and write through to the end without a plot; some have a notion of where they will end up; some plot in intricate detail. I think I fall under the category of writers who discover what their story is about half-way through, and then write to the conclusion and then rework the first half of the novel.
However, I am quite certain that creating a plot does not hinder one's imagination. On the contrary, I feel secure knowing that the developments and twists work together and I am free to be as creative as I desire provided that I do not deviate from a handful of key plot points in each chapter.

And so I seem to have come full circle.

Off to think some more.

Walking With Crutches

Sleep. Dalí represented his fear of impotence with crutches.

I was reading about crutch words recently. Sure enough, when an author is stringing ninety odd thousand words together, she'll find herself relying on certain trusted words. I remember reading the first few Harry Potters and noticing that everyone was always sweeping everywhere.
I write the first pass of every chapter in my notebooks. At that stage, I'm comfortable relying on crutch words here and there, just to keep the momentum going. When I type up each chapter, I add polish and devote a little more time to seeking the mot juste.
It's no coincidence that we find authors relying on transitory crutch words, such as sweep. With so much transitory information to convey, and given that this information is functional and necessary, I can quite understand how an author might rely on crutch words.
One of the first problems I was faced with was figuring out how my protag moved. It's a key show: it reveals something of the protag's nature. It's also an important first impression. When you meet somebody for the first time, you make all kinds of assumptions simply by subconsciously observing how that person carries himself - how he moves. I've blogged about this a few times:
A Spider Theory
How Nuns Walk
How Lolita Walks

The Enigma of William Tell.

I made a decision a long time ago that my protag would march (by default). At the beginning of the ms, he is rigid, stiff, proud, his shoulders thrown back, his head held high. He is a man on a mission. He moves from place to place with an earnest, perhaps solemn, intensity. So, on writing a first pass, I fall very easily into using the words march, stride, hurry, and so forth.
I figured that a handy list of transitory words would be useful.
So let's cobble one together!
(N.B. List is non-exhaustive [selective], and I've decided on a handful of categories. Will doubtless refine over time!)

CASUAL:
amble
dally
dawdle
drift
meander
plod
saunter
stroll
tarry
toddle
trudge
walk
wander

DELIBERATE:
forge
march
pace
parade
patrol
proceed
stalk
step
stomp
stride
strut
swagger
swank
traipse
tramp
tread

SPEEDY:
bluster
bolt
breeze
bullet
burst
bustle
canter
career
charge
dart
dash
flit
fly
gallop
haste/hasten
hotfoot
hurry
hustle
jog
lope
lunge
race
rip
rocket
roll
run
rush
sally
scamper
scoot
scramble
scurry
speed
sprint
spur
stampede
storm
sweep
tear
trot
urge
whirl
whisk
whiz
zip

PLAYFUL:
bound
caper
cavort
flourish
frolic
gambol
hop
jump
leap
prance
roister
rollick
romp
shimmy
skip
spring
waltz

FALTERING:
careen
dither
falter
hesitate
hobble
limp
lurch
pitch
reel
shuffle
stagger
stammer
stumble
sway
swing
teeter
topple
totter
vacillate
waddle
waver
wheel
wobble
zig zag

STEALTHY:
creep
glide
mooch
prowl
pussyfoot
sidle
skate
skitter
skulk
slide
slink
slip
slither
snake
sneak
steal
tiptoe

Life After Batteries

Battery art: Dead Star.

What's the difference between a set-up and a hook?

Increasingly, I've been wondering how it is that I find myself addressing the same questions again and again. Am I going round in circles? Am I developing?

I realised that it's a matter of refinement. Each time I re-approach a topic, I tackle it from a different angle, and/or with new knowledge. I think that I must be searching for the simplest solution to all our shared problems!

When I sit and write, I need structure. That's to say that I need some way of deciding what to write and how I should approach it. I need to rate everything that makes it into my ms in some way - to gauge its success according to some sort of scale or technique. A context. A guide. A kind of writers' ruler.

It occurs to me that perhaps the reader does this too, albeit on a different level.

For now, let's lump set-ups and hooks under a single terminology. Let's call them batteries; let's assume that they charge the space beyond them in some way, even if the value of that charge is zero!

BATTERY (set-up/hook) -> CHARGED SPACE -> RESOLUTION

Let's take a couple of batteries:

1) Protag passes by a cat and thinks nothing of it.

2) Protag steps in to break up a fight.

I can imagine that in each instance the reader would assign a value to these batteries. Let's go with a rating from 0 to 10 (although the reader's value will doubtlessly be far less specific). And let's, for wont of a more concise measurement, assume that:

0 = No visible propensity for *meaningful change. (*Such as threat to survival.)

1 = Mild propensity for meaningful change.

10 = Maximum propensity for meaningful change.

(Creating a rating system for a writing technique might seem absurd, except that this system relies on a zero, and the system is not binary, and it is designed as a rule-of-thumb.)

In essence, this achieves the following:

1) Places visible and invisible batteries under a single umbrella.

2) Assigns meaning/purpose to them, allowing for assessment.

When the protag passes the cat, he thinks nothing of it, because the author makes no fuss about it. By extension, the reader thinks nothing of it. That cat might cause an enormous meaningful change later in the story: Perhaps it transforms into a vengeful demon intent on destroying the universe. At the point of the battery, however, the reader marks this with a zero and the successive space is not charged (and the reader is not inherently engaged).

Similarly, when the protag steps in to break up the fight, the reader will gauge the propensity for meaningful change: he will weigh up the aggressor/s and the victim/s, the weapon/s, the environment, and so forth. A violent, drug-crazed aggressor wielding a blade is likely (here we rely on preconceptions to a degree!) to inflict meaningful change (irrespective of whether he is aggressor or victim).

To keep the reader turning the pages, I'd suggest that the space he is occupying should always be charged (with a value above zero). This means that the battery should visibly suggest a meaningful change.

The reader should live in a space that is charged above zero.

And what's the difference between a set-up and a hook?

(After all, they both lay down the foundations for what will hopefully be a memorable resolution!)

I'd suggest this distinction:

A set-up is charged with a value of zero. (Invisible.)

A hook is charged with a value greater than zero. (Visible.)

This 'rule-of-thumb' is something that I have needed in order to assess (with any amount of objectivity) the page-turneryness of my ms.

To put it into practise (because this all has to be practical!), I can now look through my ms and rate the batteries and see how charged any space is, and also how muddy any given charge might be.

Still to consider:

* Nested charged spaces (esp. intersections! Am thinking of the combinations required to create a Gestalt, and the impact of muddying charges).

* Relationship between battery and resolution.

* Duration of charged space and the consequences on reader's absorption (See Anticipation.): In a charged space, does the reader's interest increase or diminish over time?

All thoughts are welcome of course! Useful? Unneccessary? Pointless? Overly complicated?

Perhaps I really am going round in circles!

P.S. Does anyone have a copy of my Suspense list to hand? It's the list I compiled a few years ago and covered chases and countdowns and the like.