There is an old saying about writing conflict: "Get your protagonist up a tree. Throw rocks at him. Then get him down."
Now there are different kinds of opposition, but almost always in a novel you want it to be personal. Another character with a strong reason to stop the Lead.
Yes, stories have been written about characters against nature, society, or themselves. All of these are valid, but most often serve better as subplot material.
When learning to write, make your opposition personal. A good plot, it is sometimes said, consists of two dogs and one bone.
Adhesive
Something needs to hold the opposing parties together. This is adhesive, which prevents the Lead or opposition from walking away from the fight. Think about it.
Let's say you have an abused wife. She decides to leave her husband and take an apartment in town, divorce him, and start life over again.
If the husband, the opposition in this case, lets her go, thinking maybe he's better off without her, end of story. She has no reason to leave town. He has no reason to bother her. Nothing is forcing these two into mortal combat. So you add adhesive.
In the case of Stephen King's Rose Madder, the adhesive is psycho-pathology. The husband is psycho. He is an insane control freak and, it so happens, a cop who knows how to track.
The wife not only has to leave town, she has to get as far away as she can. And the husband can't rest his troubled mind until he finds and kills her.
Here are some other ways to establish adhesive:
• Duty. If a character is bound by a moral or professional duty, that will be an automatic adhesive. A mother seeking a kidnapped child has a natural moral duty not to give up. A cop on a case, or a lawyer with a client, has professional duties.
• Place. If the opponents can't physically get away from each other, that's adhesive. Casablanca is a place people can't easily get out of. So is the Overlook Hotel in The Shining.
• Self. In a literary novel, where the character might have mainly an interior struggle, the adhesive is self. We can't escape ourselves. The issue must be resolved or the character will die inside.
Here's what I want from a book, what I demand, what I pray for when I take up a novel and begin to read the first sentence: I want everything and nothing less, the full measure of a writer's heart. I want a novel so poetic that I do not have to turn to the standby anthologies of poetry to satisfy that itch for music, for perfection and economy of phrasing, for exactness of tone. Then, too, I want a book so filled with story and character that I read page after page without thinking of food or drink because a writer has possessed me, crazed me with an unappeasable thirst to know what happens next.
—Pat Conroy
K Is for Knockout
Readers of fiction want to be knocked out at the end. Endings are critical. A great ending might save an otherwise flat book. If you read a great story only to be disappointed at the end, the whole experience feels wasted.
Knockout is also a metaphor for the final battle, or final choice, your character faces.
All the forces of the story are against her. How will she get through to victory?
That's what readers want to know.
The ending doesn't have to be "upbeat" to be powerful, of course. Sometimes it can even be ambiguous or bittersweet.
The key is leaving the readers satisfied in an unpredictable way. (See chapter seven on Beginnings, Middles & Ends.)
THREE-ACT STRUCTURE
For purposes of self-editing, you need to understand at least the following fundamentals of each act.
Act I
• Introduce the Lead in a compelling way.
• Present the story world—tell us something about the setting, the time, and the immediate context.
• Establish the tone the reader will rely on. (Is this to be a sweeping epic or a zany farce? Action packed or dwelling more on character change? Fast moving or leisurely paced?)
• Compel the reader to move on to the middle. (Just why should the reader care to continue?)
• Introduce the opposition. (Who or what wants to stop the Lead?) Act II
• Deepen character relationships.
• Keep us caring about what happens.
• Set up the final battle that will wrap things up at the end. Act III
• Present the final battle.
• Tie up loose ends.
• Leave readers with a feeling of "resonance" (satisfied in a unique way).
How you achieve forward motion and readability in each act is covered in chapter seven.
You "stitch" the three acts together via what I call "a disturbance and two doorways."
The disturbance is anything that happens in the very beginning of your book that represents a change or challenge to the lead's normal pattern of living. It can be something small, like a late-night phone call, or something large, like an auto accident.
Because dullness is life going on as usual, the opening disturbance hooks the reader.
The first doorway, the one that gets us from Act I to Act II, should occur no later than one-fifth of the way into the novel. It is the incident that forces or thrusts the Lead into the major trouble of the middle.
Act II is where most of the novel will take place, the battle of the opposing forces.
About three-quarters of the way into the book, or even later if you wish, you pass through the second doorway to get to Act III. This is usually a major setback, crisis, clue, or discovery, something that forces or enables the final battle.
The three-act structure looks like this:
MYTHIC STRUCTURE
Ever since George Lucas acknowledged that his classic film Star Wars was partly inspired by the works of Joseph Campbell, interest in the mythic structure has taken off. Several good books have been written on this. Two I would recommend are The Writer's Journey by Christopher Vogler and The Key by James N. Frey.
The classic myth structure is actually fairly easy to understand. There are some minor variations, but here is one suggested template:
Hero in His Ordinary World
The story begins with the Lead character in his ordinary world. In classic myths, there is something "about" this Lead, a prophecy or circumstance of birth that presages great things.
In the novel, your Lead might be an ordinary person. But you can give her an extraordinary past and a yearning about the future. Then place her in an everyday setting to begin the story. The ordinary world is disturbed almost immediately by the call.
The Call
The hero is called to an adventure or quest, but it is really about his destiny. When King Arthur pulls the sword from the stone, he is called to be the rightful King of England.
Any incident in your novel that offers the Lead a chance to move out from her ordinary world would fulfill this function.
In many myths, the call is at first resisted. Something has to motivate the hero to answer.
Answering the Call
There is a dilemma within the hero whether to answer the call or not. He resists. But then something happens that compels or forces the decision to move from the ordinary world.
In Star Wars, Luke would like to leave the planet where he lives with his aunt and uncle, and look for the Princess. Maybe become a Jedi. A strange hologram in a droid showing Princess Leia asking for help is the call to adventure. But Luke's loyalty is to his family, so he resists the call.
Then the Imperial Forces kill his aunt and uncle and scorch the farm. There is no longer anything holding Luke back. He is compelled to answer the call.
Tasks and Challenges
Now out of the ordinary world, the hero is faced with various tests, tasks, challenges, and battles.
Jason is asked to sail to Colchis and find the Golden Fleece. But he must first build a ship and gather a brave crew. Then, under sail, he has to survive the test of the clashing rocks. He must meet the challenge of King Aeetes to yoke fire-breathing bulls. And so on.
In your novel, your Lead must spend most of the book fighting battles on her way toward a worthy objective.
A Tutor
King Arthur had Merlin. Luke Skywalker had Obi-Wan Kenobi, then Yoda. All heroes can use a little help out there in the dark world.
The tutor can't solve the hero's problems for him. The whole point of the mythic journey is that the hero learns and then applies the lessons that help him make it through the dark world on his own.
Allies and Opponents
Along the way, the hero will befriend or coerce allies, those who can aid him in his tasks. Sometimes he will think someone is an ally who is really a traitor (a character sometimes referred to as the "shapeshifter"). There are many variations among these kinds of characters.
Talisman
Many of the great myths and legends involve a talisman that gives the hero the power or protection he needs to prevail in the ultimate test. Perseus had the shield of Athena. Arthur had Excalibur. In the Star Wars movies, Luke Skywalker had "The Force." Whatever it is, this element provides both strength and motivation for action.
In the novel, this will often simply be the acquired knowledge and skill to ultimately overcome the final test. It may also be an "icon" that provides an emotional lift.
Jefferson Smith looks upon the Lincoln Memorial before jumping into the final battle with the political machine in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. The view inspires him (something that has been set up in an earlier scene).
Final Test
At last there is an epic battle, where the hero is tested once and for all. Luke going into battle with the Death Star. King Arthur in the great battle with Sir Mordred. A legal thriller might pit the hero against the greatest trial lawyer in the country in one final courtroom showdown.
A crime novel has the detective facing a most clever killer on the killer's own turf.
The Return
Many times the hero returns to his ordinary world, carrying with him a message and becoming an inspirational example for the community.
MYTHIC STRUCTURE APPLIED
Consider The Wizard of Oz. We meet Dorothy in her ordinary world, a Kansas farm. Yet she yearns for something else, something "over the rainbow." She is given the chance to run off with Professor Marvel but refuses the call out of loyalty to her aunt with whom she lives.
But a twister makes the decision for her.
Landing in Oz, she is faced with the task of getting back home. She is given help by a tutor, Glinda, the Good Witch of the North, who gives her a start, to "follow the yellow brick road." Glinda gives Dorothy a talisman, the ruby slippers, as a going-away present.
Out in the dark world, Dorothy picks up three allies—the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodman, and the Cowardly Lion. She is opposed by grumpy trees and the wizard's guard. Not to mention the flying monkeys.
In the final test with the Wicked Witch of the West, Dorothy prevails by way of a bucket of water.
Finally, she returns, with the wisdom that "there's no place like home."
This little overview of the mythic structure is actually quite powerful. Myths tap into our hard wiring. By recognizing these elements in the context of your novel, you'll be creating potent points of connection with your readers.
PATTERNS OF PLOT
It will also help your plot sense to understand familiar patterns. As you do further research in each you may find that one of these works best for your story. They can also be jumping-off points for a plot you'll create.
Don't hesitate to borrow plot patterns. All plots have been done. What makes them fresh are your characters, voice, style, and themes.
For deeper study, you may see my own Plot & Structure, or two other Writer's Digest Books titles: Story Structure Architect by Victoria Lynn Schmidt and 20 Master Plots by Ronald B. Tobias.
Here are some patterns that have stood the test of time:
The Quest
The Lead is on a quest for something vital, crucial to his happiness in this world, or crucial to someone with whom he has allegiance. Like Sir Galahad searching for the Holy Grail.
On this quest, the Lead will encounter various opponents and enemies. Perhaps there is one enemy overall who is leading the opposition.
A quest story is a microcosm of everyone's journey through life. We all face challenges in this "dark world." We will identify with someone on a quest, so long as that is made of crucial importance to that character.
Revenge
This is an old pattern, one we all relate to on a visceral level. It has been the pattern of a number of memorable novels and films, such as Alexandre Dumas's The Count of Monte Cristo.
It's also the pattern found in the 1953 Fritz Lang film The Big Heat, where Glenn Ford plays a cop whose wife is murdered by thugs working for a crime boss. We can well understand his drive to get the bad guys for this.
Love
Another oldie—two people in love. But something keeps them apart. It may be family, as in Romeo and Juliet. Or social class, as in the film It Happened One Night.
The lovers struggle throughout to get together.
Sometimes they start off not liking each other (this is the pattern of the Doris Day/Rock Hudson movies Pillow Talk and Lover Come Back). The lovers end up together—happy. Or not—sad.
Change
Here, the story is about how a character must change in order to live a more fulfilling life. If he doesn't change, his prospects will be dire.
A Christmas Carol is a change story. Scrooge must change or he'll die unloving and unloved.
The film On the Waterfront is about change. Will the waterfront thug Terry Malloy change from living like an animal to caring about other people?
The change pattern makes a great subplot. In The Fugitive the lawman, Sam Gerard, tells Richard Kimball he "doesn't care" whether he truly killed his wife. His job is just to bring the fugitive in.
By the end of the film, though, we see that Gerard really does care. He says to Kimball, "But don't tell anybody."
Adventure
Simple structure here. The character longs for adventure, goes out and tries to find it.
And runs into trouble as a result.
The aftermath of adventure is somewhat like the change story, because the character will gain some insight into himself as a result of his adventure.
Maybe that insight is that it's best not to seek adventure. As Dorothy says at the end of The Wizard of Oz, "There's no place like home."
The Chase
Somebody is on the run. Maybe that somebody is the Lead, as Richard Kimball is in The Fugitive. Somebody is chasing the person on the run, like Sam Gerard in The Fugitive.
Either of these characters could be the Lead. All you need is a reason for the chase.
That can be professional duty, as it is with a U.S. Marshal. Or it can be a duty to a loved one. The reason Kimball keeps on the run is not just to stay alive; it's to find out who killed his wife.
Or the one doing the chasing is a psycho, as in Rose Madder. Rose has to stay on the run or she'll be murdered by her husband.
One Against
The idea of one person standing up against a huge opponent is a popular plot pattern.
Ken Kesey's One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest is a perfect example of this. Randall McMurphy is institutionalized and becomes the one patient willing to stand against Nurse Ratched.
Spencer Tracy, in the film Bad Day at Black Rock, must stand against an entire town that will kill to keep a shameful secret.
Almost always, the one against is standing up for the community, for some great moral principle. We relate to the Lead because we want that principle vindicated.
One Apart
The one apart Lead is the classic anti-hero, who wants to be left alone. He has his own code to live by. But then things happen that force him to come out of his self-imposed exile for a time.
At the end of the story, he may decide to rejoin the community, as Rick does in Casablanca. Or he may go back to being alone, as Eth
an does in the John Ford film The Searchers.
Power
The quest for and exercise of power is a fascinating plot pattern. We all have an attraction to power, which is not always a good thing (that, indeed, is the whole theme of The Lord of the Rings).
The powerful getting their just desserts is satisfying, as is the relinquishment of power for a greater good.
In The Godfather, Michael Corleone gains ultimate power, but at the cost of his soul.
In my novel Deadlock, a Supreme Court judge who is the key swing vote steps down for the greater good of the country.
Death Overhanging
A gripping plot involves the overhanging possibility of death. Any kind of plot. Because there are three kinds of death that are possible.
First, of course, is physical death. If you're writing action or suspense, we need to feel that the Lead may suffer actual demise at various places in the book. The stakes are highest here, of course.
But there is also psychological/spiritual death. The character who will die inside if the objective is not met. This is what drives The Catcher in the Rye. Holden needs to find out if life is worth living. If he doesn't, he not only will die inside, he might just die physically by killing himself.
Finally, there is professional death, which occurs when what the character does for a living is in jeopardy. This is what you find in the film The
Verdict. Paul Newman plays an alcoholic lawyer who gets one last case, one he really cares about. If he loses this one, it's over for him as a professional.
All three aspects of death are seen in the movie High Noon, which is why it has endured. Will Kane, the marshal, may lose his life, of course, because he has to face four gunmen alone. If he runs away, which everyone is urging him to do, he will certainly die inside (cowardice) and as a lawman (duty).
Your plots will strengthen immediately when you raise the stakes to involve some sort of death overhanging.
KEY POINTS
• The essential elements of plot are Lead, Objective, Confrontation, and Knockout.
• Your Lead is the access point for your readers.
• The objective—to get or to get away from something—must be essential to the Lead's well-being.
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