Writtenwyrdd

Dialog as a plot device: Part II, underutilized techniques

Do you know why I think it's important to get a handle on using dialog as a plot tool, as a means of forwarding the plot?  It's because we look at information that seems to be unusual or not expected in accordance with Chekov's "Gun Over The Mantle Rule."   If something significant or seemingly out of context is mentioned, it is deemed important and will be used later on.  (Possibly a learned expectation, because that's the convention we see over and over in our reading careers, but still a factor to consider.)  At any rate, it's the same as when you leave clues in a mystery: readers see something seemingly innocuous but placed in the story in such a way as to appear important...because anything in the story is only there because the author (we assume) deems it important.  And if it is not important, it's a red herring and needs to be addressed or it is a dangling plot thread. 

So when you have characters notice something, or have them say something, or structure the dialog so the reader infers a meaning/problem/whatever that isn't already resolved-- like the gun on the mantlepiece, your reader will be expecting to see that element return and be wrapped up. 

So you need to be wary of unintended implications or irrelevant mentions, too.  Failure to do so will annoy your readers.

OPPORTUNITIES FOR STRONG DIALOG
It's my observation that dialog is often underutilized as a writing tool.  New writers in particular, if they aren't busy using too-literal and long-winded speeches, seem to rush through the talk to get to the action scene, or toss in a few words here or there because they know you have to have dialog.  They just don't yet have a feel for what to do with it and for how dialog can function to serve the story. 

In my observation, there are a few things that are commonly overlooked and which I don't usally see spelled out in articles about dialog:

• Subtext in dialog, e.g. implication,
• Utilizing dialog as a plot tool (speeding up a scene or focusing a reader's attention on what is important), and
• Paraphrasing dialog.

Subtext.  One of the places where I think many writers miss an opportunity is that their dialog lacks subtext.  You can use dialog to imply deceipt, foreshadow, or other important things about the story or characters.  (Particularly useful if you want to hint at an unreliable narrator.) And you can add a great richness to the reading experience by having layered meaning like this.  

Implied subtext is the most difficult type of dialog to write because it's derived from how you say things instead of saying them directly; and the way it works, in part anyhow, is that your reader discovers what is important because of what the characters notice as well as by what they say.  The subtlety of this is really fantastic to read when done well, and gives a lovely depth to dialog scenes.  (That said, it's not just the actual dialog that accomplishes this, but also the tags, stage business, character thoughts and other details that are part of the scene.)

Using dialog as a plot tool.  I really do think that dialog serves a much deeper role than we generally give it credit, at least when we first start out in our writing careers.  One of the most underutilized means of using dialog, I find, is based on an overlooked opportunity.  We can direct a reader's attention using dialog in a much more direct manner.  It's a writer's only opportunity to directly tell a reader something without directly telling them.   

An example would be that you obviate a bunch of stage business and move the story along by having your character say, "Johnny, put down that puppy and leave your daddy's razor alone!" instead of walk her through the noticing, the description of the scene  with a half-shaved dog and the rest of the actual action.  One line does it all, saving you effort and getting past a bit of business that you wanted in the story but which you don't need to dwell on. Because, as we all know, not all events have the same weight, and minor events, even when they are needed in the story, do not need to be given equal treatment.  Less important = less page space allocated.  So dialog is one graceful way of dealing with a scene in shorthand. 

And you can reference past events and provide backstory or narrative in the same manner.  This is also a form of subtext or implication, but the shade of meaning is different, because I'm talking about using dialog to direct the readers' attention.  Basically, a character paying attention to something is a clue to readers that they should notice and pay attention to this thing, too. 

Paraphrasing.  A similar technique is the paraphrase, where your character tells us a summary of a conversation.  Sometimes a telling detail is needed, but you really don't want to bore the reader with the whole scene or conversation.  Or, you may have shown us what's being referred to already, but we need to know another character has been told, thus avoiding a plot hole.  We don't need to hear the whole thing again. (There are many examples of this being done badly, so try to be creative and not write an actual summation.  A reference to a summation having been given is likely better.)

This technique of paraphrasing is good for both a first person narrator or for a speaker in a conversation (who may or may not be the narrator), but only the latter is actual dialog. 

Examples.  Statements such as, "Long and short, Joe, we agreed to disagree," or "Well, I gave him what he wanted.  Enough said, okay?" are both versions of paraphrasing.  But you can see that one sums up a conversation (presumably with a mention as to what it was about coming earlier); and the second sentence is implication.  In the second example, the reader is led to infer something about the person saying it, in this case presumably the person is annoyed at having to answer or doesn't want to discuss this point for some other reason.  The circumstances the writer presents prior to or with the dialog should fill in the picture and have readers paying attention for further details regarding the matter referenced.

Which last basically points out that choice of details in your dialog make a critical difference in reader focus as well as understanding. 

What do you think the important underlying functions of dialog are to a novel in terms of structure?

 

Dialog as a plot device, Part I: common mistakes

Electric Spec emagazine has a recent post on their blog about dialog.  I found it interesting, and it gave me some food for thought. 

What is dialog?  We all know that dialog is basically communication between characters.  Most of us are also aware that dialog moves the plot along and provides characterization, motivation, or information.  It breaks up narrative and can speed up pace and add a much needed dose of seeming reality to a story.  But...have you considered dialog very much?  Or studied where it can fail or further your story?

DIALOG PROBLEMS
Common problems.  The biggest problems I've observed in things I've critiqued are

• Dialog that's too literal, 
• Speech that doesn't serve the story/ isn't moving the plot forward,
• References that are unclear or when readers are missing important information required to understand what's being discussed, and
• Parallel conversations that create confusion as to meaning.

Dialog that's too literal. We have to write in a manner that feels realistic but actually isn't.  Fictional dialog is not like real speech. Real-world dialog is cluttered with junk.  It rambles and it makes no sense when used in writing because it's difficult to parse the meaning with all the extraneous verbiage ('How are you?"  "Hi," "Bye," and other bits of language that we salt our speech with), and garbage sounds (um, oh, like, you know).  Often actual conversation has more than one conversation going on, and people are constantly interrupting each other as well.  You also can't translate non-verbal communication (body language/posture, gesture, tone of voice, facial expression) entirely, and must choose selected stage business, description, or dialog tags that serve that purpose instead.   

In particular, new writers will begin a dialog as we would in real life.  And it doesn't work to have a half page of "Hi, how are you?" "I'm fine, what are you doing?" et cetera.  It's crap and doesn't belong, ever. 

Speech that doesn't serve the story.  Any scene you write, no matter if it's narrative, action, or dialog, needs to serve the story as a whole.  It should further the plot, provide characterization,  give important information or serve the story in some other manner.  Preferably it serves two or even three functions at once. Unfortunately, interesting information isn't necessarily important information.  If you can't state why the info needs to be in the story, that bit needs to go.  (And this can also include extraneous verbiage like the previously mentioned meaningless pleasantries.)

References that are unclear or when readers are missing important information.  We all know that conversations have layers of meaning.  Often how something is said is more telling and truthful than what is said.  And a writer has to portray this in a way that the reader follows. So it's imperative to consider dialog and attached details for their implications. 

Often this is best done from the consideration of what does the reader already know?  And, based on that knowledge, what do you want them to infer from your characters' dialog?  If you are not precise enough in how you word the conversation, you will not be steering readers to the proper conclusion.  And let me just say that, in my observation, the usual expectation of a writer is to give the readers too much credit and providing too few clues.  (I suspect this is a case of knowing what you meant but not seeing it's not what you said.)

Let me say this again:  Writers often assume the reader understands more than they do. 

I'm a savvy reader, and if I can't figure out what you are talking about or I'm not comfortable with my assumption as to what you meant to imply, you really did not have enough information there.  It's a fine line to walk between beating your readers over the head with too much information and painting a picture that doesn't need captions.  Being pedantic and therefore obvious and heavy handed is just as bad as confusing readers.  (Thus the value of beta readers, who can point these places out.)

A scene is especially vulnerable to confusion early on in a story, when the reader hasn't yet been introduced to all the issues or complications. As an example, I recently read something by a friend which was very good, if still rough.  But  on page four there was a conversation that confused me because I didn't know enough yet to understand the reference implied.  I was left to guess which of two known issues were meant, but neither fit, so I was confused, irritated, and frustrated...and I focused a lot of my attention on figuring out what later details could have been meant!  I had to read about thirty pages on before I knew what was being referred to on page four...and it turned out there were not one but two different things that were important to understanding that conversation! 

Parallel conversations that create confusion as to meaning.  Basically, having two topics at once = confusion.  When done poorly, dialog makes the reader guess at your meaning, and readers hate that.  Readers like to feel smart by reading between the lines of the dialog...but they must be right in their guessing or you make them unhappy because your writing was flawed and misled them to the wrong conclusion.  They are also made unhappy by having to stop and puzzle out what you are saying.  And it's worse when a reader hasn't got the information yet to understand what you are implying, yet knows you are implying something.  (Frequently, this latter is by a vague and open-ended reference.)  So (oxymoronically) you need to make your implications plain and unmistakeable...but not state them flat out. 

It's possible to manage parallel dialog so you clearly have two conversations; but it's much easier to muck it up and give the reader crossed signals, especially if you create a parallel conversation unintentionally.  An example is if you have one character, who is already mad at a friend, dealing with some other issue (in this case shipping a package.)  So in the same sentence your character answers a question about where to ship a package with two different statements. "You know I hate it when you do that, leaving before we're finished. And I think that you should have sent this yesterday, when it wouldn't have to go overnight." 

Okay, so we have two topics here: the reason for the anger and the package.  We get that the speaker is peeved and that's carrying over to the dialog, but the first sentence obviously refers to something about which we have no knowledge, and the mention seems out of the blue if you have no background on the fight or their relationship except to tell me that Mr. POV is angry at Mr. Package (snicker). But we do get it that the first part is maybe referencing something besides the shipping of a package, which is halfway there.  The writer just needs to get the rest of the situation to the reader before this sentence or needs to change the dialog to clarify. (And beyond the lack of background, the writing in the sentence is poorly structured anyhow, adding to the confusion.)

Unintended confusion like that makes the reader pause to consider what you're trying to say, pulls them from the story, annoys them, and makes them trust you less. And, most* of the time, it's better to rewrite the dialog than to leave that sort of double-meaning sentence in there.  (*That would be about 99% of the time.)

So, you need to be careful that you either say one thing at a time or that you orchestrate the dialog to carry both topics without confusion.

There are a lot of ways to use dialog to your advantage, but its far easier to use dialog mechanically and with little thought to elegance.  So, what I suggest is that you give an edit to your work and decide what your dialog can be used for, how it can be used to add depth to your writing.

What do you find are areas where novice writers or you personally have issues?

Tune in Wednesday for part two.

Story structure and revision checklist

Alexandra Sokoloff has the best blog with advice for writers trying to improve their story structure.  And recently she had another brilliant article on revising/editing and an outline of the components to the three acts.  Check it out here.

Here's the checklist:

STORY ELEMENTS CHECKLIST

ACT ONE

* Opening image
* Meet the hero or heroine
* Hero/ine’s inner and outer desire.
* Hero/ine’s problem
* Hero/ine’s ghost or wound
* Hero/ine’s arc
* Inciting Incident/Call to Adventure
* Meet the antagonist (and/or introduce a mystery, which is what you do when you’re going to keep your antagonist hidden to reveal at the end)
* State the theme/what’s the story about?
* Allies
* Mentor (possibly. May not have one or may be revealed later in the story).
* Love interest
* Plant/Reveal (or: Setups and Payoffs)
* Hope/Fear (and Stakes)
* Time Clock (possibly. May not have one or may be revealed later in the story)
* Sequence One climax
* Central Question
* Central Story Action
* Plan (Hero/ine's)
* Villain's Plan
* Act One climax

___________________________

ACT TWO


* Crossing the Threshold/ Into the Special World (may occur in Act One)
* Threshold Guardian (maybe)
* Hero/ine’s Plan
* Antagonist’s Plan
* Training Sequence
* Series of Tests
* Picking up new Allies
* Assembling the Team
* Attacks by the Antagonist (whether or not the Hero/ine recognizes these as being from the antagonist)
* In a detective story, questioning witnesses, lining up and eliminating suspects, following clues.


THE MIDPOINT


* Completely changes the game
* Locks the hero/ine into a situation or action
* Can be a huge revelation
* Can be a huge defeat
* Can be a “now it’s personal” loss
* Can be sex at 60 — the lovers finally get together, only to open up a whole new world of problems


______________________________
ACT TWO, PART TWO


* Recalibrating — after the shock or defeat of the game-changer in the Midpoint, the hero/ine must Revamp The Plan and try a New Mode of Attack.
* Escalating Actions/ Obsessive Drive
* Hard Choices and Crossing The Line (immoral actions by the main character to get what s/he wants)
* Loss of Key Allies (possibly because of the hero/ine’s obsessive actions, possibly through death or injury by the antagonist).
* A Ticking Clock (can happen anywhere in the story)
* Reversals and Revelations/Twists. (Hmm, that clearly should have its own post, now, shouldn't it?)
* The Long Dark Night of the Soul and/or Visit to Death (aka All Is Lost)

THE SECOND ACT CLIMAX

* Often can be a final revelation before the end game: the knowledge of who the opponent really is
* Answers the Central Question


_______________________________

ACT THREE

The third act is basically the Final Battle and Resolution. It can often be one continuous sequence — the chase and confrontation, or confrontation and chase. There may be a final preparation for battle, or it might be done on the fly. Either here or in the last part of the second act the hero will make a new, FINAL PLAN, based on the new information and revelations of the second act.

The essence of a third act is the final showdown between protagonist and antagonist. It is often divided into two sequences:


1. Getting there (storming the castle)
2. The final battle itself

* Thematic Location — often a visual and literal representation of the Hero/ine’s Greatest Nightmare
* The protagonist’s character change
* The antagonist’s character change (if any)
* Possibly allies’ character changes and/or gaining of desire
* Could be one last huge reveal or twist, or series of reveals and twists, or series of final payoffs you've been saving (as in BACK TO THE FUTURE and IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE).

* RESOLUTION: A glimpse into the New Way of Life that the hero/ine will be living after this whole ordeal and all s/he’s learned from it.

You can refer to the linked article and find her other articles on the various acts and their components and well as her excellent advice on what to look for in an edit.

An additional excellent source for aid in revision is the book, Self-Editing for Fiction Writers by Renni Browne and Dave King. 

Additionally, a great article by Adam Heine at Author's Edge on using MS Word when writing a manuscript--the Document Map. 

 

Openings: the ideal recipe

"The opening is important. It may be the most important part of your manuscript when it comes to getting an agent or an editor. It could determine whether your book gets bought or left on the shelf. But, on the other hand, don't spend your life trying to create the perfect beginning. Write it. Then go on with the rest of the story. Then go back and edit. It’s important not to get stuck in one part of the book. You have to keep moving forward."  Helen Ginger, from her blog. 

What is important to have in a story opening?  Lately, and seeing as I have had to restart a project in the works, I have been considering what really needs to be in an opening.  And I've come up with a few thoughts on what I think a speculative fiction story needs in an opening.  Things like what elements of the setting/world need to be shown, what info is needed to place the reader in the situation or into the pov character's head. 

So, what is the ideal recipe for the perfect opening, for the one that both hooks the reader and gives just enough information to set the stage and get the story moving along? 

It's a fine line to balance too much information with too little. But I think the most important thing to be aware of is that the opening of a story makes a promise to the reader about what kind of story it will be.  For example, if your opening tone is humorous, you need to continue that or they'll be disappointed.  If you open in a bucolic setting, ray guns and space ships shouldn't be showing up out of the blue because your readers will be expecting a fantasy.  

Second most important thing is to introduce the pov character and the/a conflict.  You might have gotten away with pages of omniscient lecture by the author a hundred years ago; but that won't fly today!

Third, you need to provide the basic information that will get the story moving and make sense enough so that the reader will grant you their trust.  If they cannot suspend their disbelief, you won't keep them reading.  Obviously, a lot of the story's elements aren't apparent in the first paragraph or two; but the author should provide enough set up to give the experienced speculative fiction reader the clues to know what to expect...and woe unto the writer who plays tricks by contradicting the promise of that opening!  Lose the reader's trust and they'll toss your book across the room in disgust.

As regards my recent experience with redoing my opening scene, I had a few ideas as to what constitutes things to pay attention to.  It's a sort of checklist that mainly consists of things to consider:

1. How do you show the type of story? What details are absolutely necessary to make this clear?
2. What details of the setting are needed to establish time, place, type of setting, and details of the world that will show what sort of story this will be?
3. Opening situation - what details are needed to hook the reader and to show what the opening conflict is and make the reader want to know what happens next?
4. And, after you determine all these things, which of these details can be removed without really spoiling the effect (because I bet there are plenty of those.)
5. And, finally, ask of every element, "Do I need this for the reader to understand the world, the conflict, or the situation?"  If not, take it out.  Lather, rinse, repeat.

In Magus of Athlinar (a science fantasy set a couple thousand years post-apocalyptic event), the biggest problem was draft 1 was full of my worldbuilding exercises, and the reader did not need to see all this way cool (to me) stuff.  I had not been asking myself #5 question at all.  Thus, I had too many details about the world, not enough about the conflict, and the scene thereby became rather passive and full of stuff that would likely bore the audience.  So I changed the setting to the main character arriving by airship/derigible, and added details that showed the level of technology, that there was magic in use, and that the magic worked with technology.  I also had a bit about the place they were heading and the character's misgivings, as well as a bit of why, which hinted at her past.  I am still deciding if there is too much there, but I've at least pared down the draft so that the opening has answered the questions of who's there, doing what, why, and what the consequences are for failure - which establishes the story.

What helps you rein in your enthusiasm when you have too much in your opening? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And a few amusing and not-entirely-related links.

Stupidopolis has an hilarious take on corporate idea seminars...which sort of makes me think of myself when I'm trying to decide what to include in an opening (or plots in general);

Specusphere.com - a webzine "for consumers and creators of speculative fiction" has an interesting article, "Ray Guns for Rocketeers" which you might find entertaining.  It discusses SF weaponry.

And, once again, an invaluable post by the most excellent teacher of plotting, Alexandra Sokoloff on the index card method and the 3-Act structure. 

The 4-Act Structure

"Three Act structure is like saying that a meal consists of a starter, main course and dessert. Four Act structure is like saying there is a break in between the main course for a sip of wine."  Kal Bishop," Shoot the 3 Act Structure and the 4 Act Structure"

"Sadly, I think I resisted plotting because it feels suspiciously like Real Work. And in that, I don't think I'm alone." Betsy Dornbusch, from the March 10, 2010 post on her blog

I am by nature a seat-of-the-pantser, and, as Betsy Dornbusch mentions in a recent blog post, quoted above, I think it's more due to how plotting feels like real work than easier or better product production. 

Think of writing freestyle, seat of the pantsing, like a conversation among friends in a crowded bar.  Lots of gesturing, sloshing beer, glancing around at commenting about strangers, and checking out hotties--all the while everyone in the group is diving in and out of the conversation.  It's not in any shape or form communication designed to convey a thought or argument clearly and concisely.  It in no way resembles a formal lecture or presentation.  The two styles of speaking are as opposed in function and purpose as freeform writing is to plotted out writing.

Not to say that you can't write entire books either way.  But, being honest, I prefer the pantser style because I don't have to be disciplined when I get my ideas out.  Which is fine; I just have to admit when I've gotten the idea out and then I can determine the actual info that needs to be there.

Which brings me to the point, which is plotting out the story.  Alexandra Sokoloff has a zillion and one great articles on plot structure and means and ways of hammering out a functional plot.  But Betsy mentions a 4-Act structure, and I find I like that one a bit better. 

Here it is, kyped from The Scherer Joy of Writing Weblog.  It is set up for screenwriting, but ignore the sequence and minute notations except as a general idea as to what the page lengths would be:

Over the past five years I have read dozens of books on screenwriting, searched hundreds of Web pages for tips and techniques, and spent a lot of time just plain THINKING (another excuse not to write). I have looked at the three, four, and nine act structures. Sequencing methods (anywhere from 8 to 16). The Hero’s Journey. Blake Snyder’s Beat Sheet, et-cetera, et-cetera, et-cetera.

What I have settled on, and what works for me, is a hybrid of the Four Act Structure and the Sequence Method. The template I use follows:

ACT I – The Loner  [NOTE: 10 minutes per section, e.g. 1/4 of the film]
Sequence #1 ( 01-10) Setup: Protagonist In The Ordinary World
Sequence #2 ( 11-20) Call to Adventure / Predicament / Inciting Incident
Sequence #3 (21-30) Turing Point: Change Of Plans / New Lower Obstacles

ACT II – The Wanderer [NOTE: 10 minutes per section, e.g. 1/4 of the film]
Sequence #4 ( 31-40) Elaborating on the Dilemma and The World of Story
Sequence #5 ( 41-50) Hero encounters TESTS, ALLIES, and ENEMIES.
Sequence #6 (51-60) Point Of No Return / Discovery Of False Goal

ACT III – Towards The True Goal: The Warrior Phase [NOTE: 10 minutes per section, e.g. 1/4 of the film]
Sequence #7 ( 61-70) Complications, Higher Stakes, And Subplots
Sequence #8 ( 71-80) Culmination Toward The Main Plot
Sequence #9 (81-90 ) All Hope Is Lost

ACT IV – Result Of The Action: The Martyr [NOTE: 5 minutes per section, 1/4 of the film]
Sequence #10 ( 91-95 ) Final Push Toward The Main Plot
Sequence #11 ( 96-100) False Resolution (The Twist)
Sequence #12 (101-105) Final Test of Character and True Resolution
Sequence #13 (106-110) Final Confrontation
Sequence #14 (111-115) Climax

This model isn't perfect for a novel writer, but I think that the breakdown is very helpful, better than what Ms. Sokoloff has in terms of how my mind works.  The biggest problem, as always for me, is determining where to have each section end and transition to the next.   In short, where a writer decides to place these plot elements is a bit of a choreography.  Rythm and pace and subplots and artistic considerations apply. 

Thinking about plotting, I honestly hate it.  But that's because I like freewriting with no discipline and no yanking myself back to the paved road of my plot.  It feels like work.  But, like anything else, it is still creativity.  I just need to allow myself to have fun by reframing the resentment at "real work" by thinking of it as a challenge.  Just like writing metered poetry, or poetry to a specific form.  I hate that, too, unless I think of it right.

Wikipedia has a great article on screenwriting that defines many of the terms tossed about re plot and screenwriting.  Another interesting dissection of plot  (the Matrix dissected) on Diane Preterfreund's blog is here.

And, as always, happy writing! 

Plot and foreshadowing

Alexandra Sokoloff has another great post on story structure, this time focusing on foreshadowing.  Check it out here.

Starting blocks rather than writing blocks

"Nothing is more exciting than the promise of a story in your head, but in order to get it on the page you need to figure out exactly what you need to do to make it work. You need to realistically outline and throw out what bogs the readers down. You need to set up a game plan to hook your readers and keep them reading. Here are some simple steps to help you build the frame that you hang your story on." N.M. Kelby, Writer's Digest online article, 16Feb2010

So, you have an idea.  You're in the metaphorical starting blocks.  But, tell me:: After the Big Idea sparks your urge to start a new piece of fiction, where do you begin?  For me, the process begins with that idea, which is usually a scene.  So I write that scene/idea and discover my protagonist.  And, by some miraculous process--subconscious  or divine, who knows?--I discover the general idea.  The above article and a recent Edit Torrent article speak to this.

Now, you could argue the process really begins just with an idea, say a parameter like "I want to write a vampire romance."  And so you envision a character (heroine, an average working gal), and then envision the problem (she doesn't want to be involved with a vampire) and the thing that forces this upon her (she's writing a thesis for her Master's degree and vampires are it for subjects whether she wants to study them or not.  Why this is so to be answered later.) 

The above is what I did for Blood Shot, but I really did both the 'write the scene' and 'ask the questions' things at the same time.  I think that breaking down the process as in a you must follow a list A through Z is going to be less than helpful for those writers who are advanced enough to have their backbrains do the processing that a newbie might have to consciously follow.  We've likely done the thinking for a story start often enough we can do it seat of the pants and just use 'it feels right' as the basis for a green light for starting the story. 

But that's a pantser tendency, and for die hard outliners, they might have to do a lot more thinking. 

In the Writer's Digest article, you are told to start with your protagonist, then establish time and place and announce the stakes.  This is typical first scene stuff, though--especially for speculative fiction, where much of the fun for readers is learning a new world along with the story.  You make a promise with that first paragraph as to what type of story this will be (fantasy or science fiction, romance or urban, etc.) and you give enough to show the reader who is important/protagonist and enough about the world for the reader to get his or her feet beneath them.

I disagree that you always start with a protagonist.  I think that speculative fiction by its very nature often requires a writer to begin with something that is important, not just with a protagonist.  In fact, you might not start with any main character at all,just with an incident in some faraway place or time that establishes the basis of the story.  (Some people call this a prolog; but I find that it can often be a first chapter, lol.)  Point being, spec fic isn't like most 'standard' types of fiction.  And, for that matter, detective stories can begin with a crime such as a murder, because that's an attention grabber for readers. 

But I think it's valid to say that the big thing about starting your spec fic tale is this:  You have some flexibility in how you structure your opening, because (as I mention in this earlier article) you have a different set of readers who will allow you to start in a different manner than, say, a romance or literary novel.  Just be sure you open with something interesting that either informs readers about the crux of the main plot or introduces a main character (not necessarily the protagonist/hero.)

A thought about plot and story

Story (n):  "narrative: a message that tells the particulars of an act or occurrence or course of events;"
Plot (v): "devise the sequence of events in (a literary work or a play, movie, or ballet);" and (n): "the story that is told in a novel or play or movie etc."

Despite the definitions above, I'm inclined to say that plot and story aren't the same thing.  Perhaps it never occurred to you to split that particular hair.  But, while helping a friend with his synopsis, it occurred to me that his crazy-but-good story was hideously difficult to describe as a linear plot, yet functiond as a story because story implies meaning and sense.  Nonsensical can make sense in a novel. 

One might make the mistake of thinking that the novel then was either not a workable spec fic genre novel (too literary, perhaps); of that it was totally unworkable.  But what ho! Not so!  Try reading Delaney's Dahlgren, a classic with an ouroborous for a plot, which I adored.  There's a worthwhile story there about a man who finds himself in a strange world with no memory, and begins to wonder if he's in a story himself.  I find some parallels in my friend's novel plot and its story, and it occured to me that it was worth a mention here.

So that's my thesis: The plot can be meaningless, but there needs to be meaning in the story...and the story is the characters' journey.  And I'm not talking literal plot points but the essential meaning for the characters (and thus the readers.)

You can have a goofy, strange, indescribable-in-a-linear-manner plot that blurs reality with fiction/ meta concepts/ psychodrama-- but the way you the writer share the characters' experiences makes the writing make emotional sense, even if it isn't logical.  If you make it make sense, feel acceptable, even the weirdest stuff will feel appropriate and even make a certain bizarre sense.  That's your goal. 

I'm sure not everyone will agree with me.  But then, that sort of odd plot isn't everyone's cup of tea, either.  I've read Dahlgren at least a half-dozen times, so you can guess my feelings. 

I'd like to hear your thoughts on this, too.  Maybe I'm just talking stuff. 

Plot: The three-act, eight sequence structure

Shamelessly borrowed from Alexandra Sokoloff, whose advice on story structure is fabulous:

THE INDEX CARD METHOD.

This is the number one structuring tool of most screenwriters I know.

Get yourself a pack of index cards. You can also use Post-Its, and the truly OCD among us use colored Post-Its to identify various subplots by color, but I find having to make those kinds of decisions just fritzes my brain. I like cards because they’re more durable and I can spread them out on the floor for me to crawl around and for the cats to walk over; it somehow feels less like work that way. Everyone has their own method - experiment and find what works best for you.

Now, get a corkboard or a sheet of cardboard big enough to lay out your index cards in either four vertical columns of 10-15 cards, or eight vertical columns of 5-8 cards, depending on whether you want to see your movie laid out in four acts or eight sequences. You can draw lines on the corkboard to make a grid of spaces the size of index cards if you’re very neat (I’m not) – or just pin a few marker cards up to structure your space. Write Act One at the top of the first column, Act Two at the top of the second (or third if you’re doing eight columns), Midpoint at the top of the third (or fifth), Act Three at the top of the fourth (or seventh).

Then write a card saying Act One Climax and pin it at the bottom of column one, Midpoint Climax at the bottom of column two, Act Two Climax at the bottom of column three, and Climax at the very end. If you already know what those scenes are, then write a short description of them on the appropriate cards. These are scenes that you know you MUST have in your story, in those places - whether or not you know what they are right now.

And now also label the beginning and end of where eight sequences will go. (In other words, you’re dividing your corkboard into eight sections – either four long columns with two sections each, or eight shorter columns).

Now you have your structure grid in front of you.

What you will start to do now is brainstorm scenes, and that you do with the index cards.

A movie has about 40 to 60 scenes (a drama more like 40, an action movie more like 60), so every scene goes on one card. This is the fun part, like putting together a jigsaw puzzle. All you do at first is write down all the scenes you know about your movie, one scene per card. You don’t have to put them in order yet, but if you know where they go, or approximately where they go, you can just pin them on your corkboard in approximately the right place. You can always move them around. And just like with a puzzle, once you have some scenes in place, you will naturally start to build other scenes around them.

I love the cards because they are such an overview. You can stick a bunch of vaguely related scenes together in a clump, rearrange one or two, and suddenly see a perfect progression of an entire sequence. You can throw away cards that aren’t working, or make several cards with the same scene and try them in different parts of your story board.

You will find it is often shockingly fast and simple to structure a whole story this way.

And this eight-sequence structure translates easily to novels. Now, if you’re structuring a novel this way, you may be doubling or tripling the scene count, but for me, the chapter count remains exactly the same: forty to sixty chapters to a book. And you might have an extra sequence or two per act, but I think that in most cases you’ll find that the number of sequences is not out of proportion to this formula. With a book you can have anything from 250 pages to 1000 (well, you can go that long only if you’re a mega-bestseller!), so the length of a sequence and the number of sequences is more variable. But an average book these days is between 300 and 400 pages, and since the recession, publishers are actually asking their authors to keep their books on the short side, to save production costs, so why not shoot for that to begin with?

I write books of about 300 - 350 pages (print pages), and I find my sequences are about 50 pages, getting shorter as I near the end. But I might also have three sequences of around 30 pages in an act that is 100 pages long. You have more leeway in a novel, but the structure remains pretty much the same.

 

Confusing action scenes

"The trouble is, suspense involves a bit of fear. You're scared something bad will happen to a character you care about. That's how it works. If the hero is completely unassailable there's no tension: they'll win, so why get interested? You already know what's going to happen. Conversely, if the scene is going to have any dramatic tension, there has to be a chance the hero will suffer, will lose, will fail."  Kit Whitfield, from her blog

Blog hopping this morning, I came across Kit Whitfield's post on, basically, some of the reasons why Transformers 2 is considered to suck, big time.  [Before we go on to the main topic, let me just say that, although I gave it an immediate "too long and boring despite the noise and explosions and things morphing all over the goddamn place" I didn't hate it; it was just dull and dumb with confusing scene cuts.  Not engaging.  Brain candy of the glitteriest and most unfulfilling sort...but I didn't hate it.]

However, Ms. Whitfield expresses one reason Transformers 2 was dull and hard to grasp:  The action director broke the 180 degree rule, which basically states when you make a scene cut, you need to maintain continuity so as not to confuse the viewer, for example "if a vehicle leaves the right side of the frame in one shot, it should enter from the left side of the frame in the next shot. Leaving from the right and entering from the right will create a ...sense of disorientation."

Or, more clearly, "The 180° rule is a basic guideline in film making that states that two characters (or other elements) in the same scene should always have the same left/right relationship to each other. If the camera passes over the imaginary axis connecting the two subjects, it is called crossing the line. The new shot, from the opposite side, is known as a reverse angle." (From Wiki, link above.)

How this applies to writing.
Ms. Whitfield's post got me to thinking about action scenes and about emotional hooks.  I read Lilith Saintcrow's new book, Strange Angels last night, and although a few spots made my eyes cross (descriptions in the character's style were sometimes convoluted to the point of meaninglessness) it was a gripping read that had me staying up until I finished the book...because I was hooked emotionally.  I cared about the characters, and I also wanted to know what happened next.  So both suspense and emotional hook accomplished.

Now, the reader has to care about the outcome of all the crises your characters face.   If s/he doesn't, you will lose their interest.  These mini-crises build up to the major crisis, and the main character has to come out of these early crises to get to the big climactic crisis.  The important thing out of all these moments building to the climax is that the reader has to have serious doubt that your character can actually reach her goal, that the character really could lose or die or fail.  And, sometime, your character does experience a set back, so you have to ensure that if that does happen, readers believe your character can overcome this new obstacle, too, and keep slogging forward. 

It's not straightforward always, but the emotions you create in a reader are. They must care about your characters, must want them to win. 

And this applies to fight scenes, or action scenes in books as well.

In Ms.Saintcrow's book Strange Angels, there were a number of fight scenes.  I found them really well crafted and very clear as to what was occurring.  Here and there i think they got a bit overlong and a touch too descriptive about things like sounds (and I say this because I stopped to notice during the fight scenes, which did pull me from the reading a teensy bit) but the actions were very clear and the emotional drama was high.  It flat worked for me as a reader.

And after reading Kit Whitfield's post on Transformers, I realised something about how movie structure and book story structure overlap.  It's not quite the 180 degree rule, but it is something worth considering, and which I think Lilith Saintcrow used to good effect:  Keeping the focus of the pov character written so it stayed in focus yet keeping her also feeling and worrying about her compadres in the middle of a fight. 

That sounds rather simplistic and obvious, but I can think of other fight scenes where the character's emotions weren't engaged (e.g. not blended in with the writing) and where others were involved but the pov character doesn't feel for them.

So maybe this is s bit of hair splitting, but like the quote at the top of this post, it occurs to me that if you don't fully engage the readers' emotions your story won't grab them as much...but that can't happen if your character doesn't care herself.  You need to write them so they care, and that has to be a strong, clear thread throughout the story you write.  It doesn't have to be overt, but it needs to be there...at least for me. 

What do you think? 

Oooh, she found something to say!

People (of any age) do not appreciate the funnel-to-gullet method of learning a lesson. Which is why I am firmly of the school of telling a story because you love the story, rather than loving the lesson that's carrying the story around like emotional baggage.  Editorial Anonymous

That's a wonderful rant on how kids don't like to have "learning" shoved at them.  No one likes a story like that.  Ditto theme.  Just sayin'.

Now, I am back to work on my zombie story.  Because I want to submit it.  Then I want to figure out where to submit it, because damn it it's not really horror, more of a cozy horror, or a more auster sort of indidious horror from the point of view of a zombie passing for human.

Whatever it is, I'm not sure where it's going to fit.  But I think it's pretty hot damn good.  Besides, I just don't write short stories.  And if I ever want to be published again after a twenty-something year gap, I do have to, like, submit shit and all that...

You.  Yes, you.  Go write something. 

And a meme.
Don't forget my challenge, gang.  Post a picture of yourself from your youth.  Or a while back.  Or grade school.  Or just when you looked damn hot.  It'll be fun.  And you guys can look at each other's pictures and think we all look like those young hotties still.  Maybe some of y'all do.  But we'll keep to the mystery.