Write Great Fiction--Plot & Structure

by James Scott Bell

  It is best to underplay such moments. In Dickens’s time a bit more on-the-nose writing was acceptable. Don’t overdo it, or you may lapse into melodrama. We’ll say more about that later in this chapter.

  Deepening Disturbances

  We are fast coming to the point where Scrooge will try to become a new man. The ultimate disturbance is when the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come shows the dismal aftermath of a despised man’s death.

  And then Scrooge is shown the Cratchit family again, where he learns that Tiny Tim is dead.

  The Ghost next takes Scrooge to a graveyard, and points to a headstone. With this shock to his system, Scrooge finally snaps:

  “Spirit!” he cried, tight clutching at its robe, “hear me! I am not the man I was. I will not be the man I must have been but for this intercourse. Why show me this, if I am past all hope?”

  For the first time the hand appeared to shake.

  “Good Spirit,” he pursued, as down upon the ground he fell before it:“Your nature intercedes for me, and pities me. Assure me that I yet may change these shadows you have shown me, by an altered life!”

  The kind hand trembled.

  “I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach. Oh, tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone!”

  In his agony, he caught the spectral hand. It sought to free itself, but he was strong in his entreaty, and detained it. The Spirit, stronger yet, repulsed him.

  Holding up his hands in a last prayer to have his fate reversed, he saw an alteration in the Phantom’s hood and dress. It shrunk, collapsed, and dwindled down into a bedpost.

  Aftermath

  Scrooge has declared that he is a changed man. But that is not enough. We must see some action that demonstrates the change, shows that it has truly taken effect.

  First, we see a Scrooge we haven’t encountered before, bounding out of bed and rejoicing in his own happiness. Then he goes to the window and stops a boy running by. He engages the lad to buy a prize turkey:

  “I’ll send it to Bob Cratchit’s!” whispered Scrooge, rubbing his hands, and splitting with a laugh. “He shan’t know who sends it. It’s twice the size of Tiny Tim.”

  There is an action. Now we know Scrooge is different. We’ve been shown. The showing continues when he finds the two men whom he rebuffed who had solicited a donation from him the day before and makes it up to them. Scrooge then dines with his nephew, and the next day raises Bob Cratchit’s salary and asks to assist him with his family.

  So, when we get to the final words of the great Dickens classic, we believe them:

  Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more; and to Tiny Tim, who did not die, he was a second father. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world. … [A]nd it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God Bless Us, Every One!

  The Epiphany

  Since A Christmas Carol is a character-change story, the beats are clearly designed for that purpose. In many novels, the character arc may be quieter and shown in a subtler fashion.

  That’s fine. You can still use the steps above. But be ready to work hardest on that moment of change, which we might call the epiphany — that realization that comes to us and shifts our way of viewing the world.

  What we want to avoid with such moments is melodrama — the overplaying of the emotion involved. Epiphanies and realizations are often best when underplayed.

  In fact, it is quite possible not to play it at all! Yes, the moment of change can be implied by what happens after it. In other words, the proof of the change (what author Nancy Kress calls “verification” in her book Dynamic Characters) can follow pressure. That is one way to avoid being “on the nose” with the change.

  In my novel Deadlock, a Supreme Court Justice, Millie Hollander, is an atheist. But pressure has been applied in a big way. So much so that something major happens on her plane trip back to Washington D.C. Let’s take a look:

  The plane rose into fog, a gray netherworld. Millie took a deep breath, looked out the window, feeling as uncertain as the outside.

  In so many ways this day should have been a relief. Her body was good again. She’d spent precious hours with her mother, connecting with her in a way that she’d never dreamed was possible. And she was going back to Washington to assume the job of a lifetime — Chief Justice.

  So why the disquiet?

  She put on the earphones the flight attendant had passed out earlier, clicked the dial until she got classical music. And what music. They were right in the middle of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 “The Ode to Joy.” The beauty of Beethoven.

  Beauty.

  She put her head back, just letting the music wash over her. And then she looked outside again. Bright sunlight hit as the ascending plane topped the fog. Suddenly, there was clear sky, the bluest of blue, and soft clouds seen from above, like an angel’s playing field.

  The music swelled.

  Inside her something opened up. There was a flooding in, an expansion, as if she were a sail filling with wind. And it terrified her.

  She put her hands on the earphones, pressing them in, making the music even louder to her ears, as if she could crowd out all thought, all sensation.

  But she could not. For one, brief moment — but a moment of almost unendurable intensity — she felt like a door was opening, and thought she might go crazy.

  That’s where the scene ends. The book then cuts forward in time, and we see the results of this moment. Instead of spelling out the change when it happened, the writer leaves room for suspense, and only later pays off the scene.

  A Character’s Changing Beliefs

  Another way a character can change is by learning a lesson that will change the way he looks at life. At the end of Harper Lee’s To Kill A Mockingbird, Scout, the narrator, realizes what her father Atticus has been trying to teach her. Most people are decent “when you finally see them.”

  Consider your character’s primary beliefs. Can you design incidents that will teach the character a new “life lesson”?

  Character-Arc Table

  A simple way to map character change is to create a table that covers the main beats of your story. This will enable you to describe the character’s inner life at each juncture.

  Let’s say your novel is going to emphasize four major incidents in the life of a criminal — the crime, time in jail, a trial and sentence, and an aftermath in prison. Create a table with four columns.

  Begin with the first column, “the crime.” Describe in a few words who your character is on the inside. Next, go to the last column, “prison.”Describe how you want your character to be at the end. What will be his life lesson? How will he have changed?

  Now you can fill in the other columns to show a progression toward that final point. Come up with adequate pressure in these places to justify the outcome.

  The character-arc table will give you ideas for scenes that illustrate what’s happening inside the character, which in turn will help you deepen your story.

  THE CRIME JAIL TRIAL AND SENTENCE PRISON

  Without pity, cynical Mistreated here, but helped by another con Has to face the victims of his crime Compassion and empathy are what is needed in the world

  Changes his opinion of other prisoners Witness testimony shows him how he’s wasted his life so far Proved by how he treats a prison guard

  His inner layers are affected

  A strong character arc will enhance any plot. It is well worth your time to create memorable changes that flow naturally from the story. It is not always easy, but your readers will thank you for the effort.

&nbs
p; EXERCISE 1

  Analyze a favorite novel or story that has a big change happening to the Lead. A Christmas Carol is a classic. Underline all the passages where the Lead is being challenged in significant areas of his life. Put a checkmark next to those passages that show how the challenges are affecting character change.

  EXERCISE 2

  Write a short profile about your Lead character’s personality at the beginning of your plot. Describe his:

  Beliefs

  Values

  Dominant attitudes

  Opinions

  Now ask what things will happen in the course of the plot to change or challenge these elements.

  EXERCISE 3

  Make your own character-arc table and fill in the top row with the major incidents that challenge your character’s inner life. In the lower rows, describe what happens to the character as a result.

  Chapter 10

  Plotting Systems

  Dramatic characters, inventive plotlines, exciting and intense situations are not achieved through accident or “good luck.” The writers of great books zealously learn the craft of their profession so they can release the power and depth of their imagination and experience.

  — Leonard Bishop, Dare to Be a Great Writer

  In 1173, the architect Bonanno Pisano began construction of his dream project: the bell tower for the cathedral in Pisa, Italy. It wasn’t until two years later that a horrible problem was discovered. The tower was beginning to lean.

  There was nothing wrong with the design of the tower. The problem was the foundation. The soil was too soft. And all the subsequent work could not correct the mistake.

  That’s what can happen with a work of fiction. If certain foundational elements are missing, the story is going to sag. You can avoid major problems by some focused thinking about your story before you write.

  TO OUTLINE OR NOT TO OUTLINE

  One of the most common questions new fiction writers ask is, Should I do a complete outline before I write? And if so, how extensive should it be?

  To put this in a little historical perspective, let us look at a long-standing feud between the NOPs and the Ops.

  The NOPs are the “no outline” people. These happy folk love to frolic in the daisies of their imaginations as they write. With nary a care, they let the characters and images that sprout in their minds do all the leading. They follow along, happily recording the adventures.

  Ray Bradbury is a NOP. In Zen in the Art of Writing he says:

  Plot is no more than footprints left in the snow after your characters have run by on their way to incredible destinations. Plot is observed after the fact rather than before. It cannot precede action. That is all Plot should ever be. It is human desire let run, running, and reaching a goal. It cannot be mechanical. It can only be dynamic.

  The joy of being a NOP is that you get to fall in love every day. But as in love and life, there is heartache along the way.

  The heartache comes when you look back and see nothing resembling plot. Some fresh writing, yes, but where is the cohesion? Some brilliant word gems flash, but they may be scattered over a plotless desert.

  The Ops — outline people — seek security above all. They lay out a plot with as much specificity as possible. They may use 3" × 5" cards, spread out on the floor or pinned to corkboard, and rework the pattern many times before writing.

  Or they’ll write a plot treatment, forty or fifty pages written in the present tense. Then they’ll edit that like they would a full manuscript. And only then will they begin the actual novel.

  Albert Zuckerman, an OP, says in Writing the Blockbuster Novel:

  No sane person would think of setting out to construct a skyscraper or even a one-family home without a detailed set of plans. A big novel must have the literary equivalent of beams and joists strong enough to sustain it excitingly from beginning to end, and it also must contain myriad interlocking parts fully as complex as those in any building type.

  The value of the OP approach is that, with experience, one can virtually guarantee a solidly structured plot. The highs and lows will come at the right time. There are no unhappy tangents.

  The danger, however, is the lack of that freshness and spontaneity the NOPs are known for. An OP may get to a place where one of the characters is screaming to do something other than what’s written down on a scene card. The OP fights the character, whipping him back into submission. But in doing so, he may have missed the exact angle that would make his plot original.

  Even Experts Differ

  There is no single, inviolable way to lay a fictional foundation. Some of the best writers out there have different approaches.

  Robert Crais, author of Hostage and The Last Detective, is an OP, a self-described “plotter.” He likes to know as much as he can about the story and scenes he’s going to write before he gets going. But his books are still action packed and full of surprising twists.

  On the other side of the fence is NOP Elizabeth Berg, author of such titles as Range of Motion and Never Change. She starts with a feeling rather than a roadmap. For her, the joy in writing fiction comes with the daily discoveries of things she did not know were inside her.

  David Morrell, author of numerous bestsellers, takes a middle path. He likes to start a free-form letter to himself as the subject takes shape in his mind. He’ll add to it daily, letting the thing grow in whatever direction his mind takes him. What this method does is mine rich ore in the subconscious and imagination, yielding deeper story structure.

  But when it comes to the writing, says Morrell, “I try to let the story’s drama carry me along and reveal surprises. Often, the best moments in a scene are those that I never imagined ahead of time. In a way, I try to entertain myself as much as I hope to entertain the reader.”

  Jerry Jenkins is the author of the best-selling fiction series of all time, Left Behind. Ultimately, it will be fourteen books, with a prequel and sequel. Naturally for a project of that length, Jenkins must have constructed a huge outline, so as not to get lost.

  He didn’t.“My structure is intuitive,” Jenkins says, “and I write the whole manuscript, beginning to end, chronologically, bouncing from perspective to perspective by instinct. I’m gratified people think it looks carefully designed, but it’s not blueprinted in advance.”

  When readers ask him why he chose to kill off their favorite character, Jenkins responds, “I didn’t kill him off; I found him dead.”

  A Little of Both

  My personal message to the Ops and the NOPs — be true to yourself, but try a little of the other guys’ method. You may be delighted at what you come up with.

  For example, NOPs could look at their first drafts as if they were big outlines! That first draft might be the exploratory notes for a plot that works. Once it is done, the NOP can step back and see what’s there and reformulate the outline into something that is more plot solid.

  A simple way to do this is to read over your first draft, then write a two- or three-page synopsis. Now put on your plotting hat and edit that synopsis until you come up with a roadmap for your story.

  Then you’re ready to do a second draft in NOP style. As Bradbury advises, don’t rewrite it, relive it.

  You Ops could work on your outlines as if they were first drafts. If you do a manuscript-style outline, write it with passion and a sense of play. Let things happen that you don’t plan.

  If you work with cards, generate whole bunches of scene ideas, even crazy ones. Then put the cards all together and shuffle them. What sort of pattern does this suggest?

  You can tighten your outline then, according to your OP instincts. But you’ll have generated some things that couldn’t have come from a strictly left-brained regimen.

  Any method will work so long as it is your method. But I would counsel you to do two things before you write.

  [1] Use the LOCK system. As explained in chapter one, these are the elements that give you a solid foundation for your novel. If there is a
glaring weakness in your story, it will probably be revealed here.

  Work with the elements until they are strong enough for you to consider writing a whole book.

  [2] Write the back cover copy. When you are comfortable with your LOCK elements, move on to the writing of your back cover copy. This is the marketing copy that compels a reader to buy your book. This is what you see on the back of paperback novels in your bookstore.

  What you want to do is create a few paragraphs that excite your own interest, enough to compel you to move on to the next step. You can even pause at this point and share your back cover copy with some trusted friends to get their take on it. If no one can see the excitement in the story, you have the chance to rework things before spending all that time writing an outline. For example:

  Sam Jones is a cop who has fallen from grace. He’s battling the bottle and losing his family. Then he is assigned to the biggest murder case in years — the mayor has been killed in a gruesome way.

  It seems open and shut, with a prime suspect — a political rival — being the target of the investigation. It may just be the case that brings Sam out of his darkness.

  But as he gets closer to the truth, things are not as clear as they first appeared. Not only that, but the killer is stalking him and his family. The message is clear — drop the investigation or lose your life.

  Will Sam be able to stay alive long enough to find out who really killed the mayor? Can he save his own family?

  And if he does, what will the cost be?

  Add plot elements to the back cover copy. You are getting more specific. Hone these paragraphs until you are bubbling over with excitement.