Short Story Structure--And How It Can Make Your Novel Better

Many times (and many different places) I've heard that writing short stories can help you become a better novelist. For that reason and that reason alone, I've tried to write short stories. Some have been 500 words, most around 1000, and one was up to 3000 words. Every one has received the same response.

"This feels like the beginning of a much larger story."

*sigh*

Although that could be seen as a good thing, it means I haven't quite nailed the short story. In an effort to improve I continued my internet search for tips. Let's start by building on yesterday's post on Story Structure.

Sources:
Philip Brewer
Storyfix.com

So how does the short story relate to a complete story?
With short stories, the writer doesn’t have room to “show” the entire journey. It’s okay to just mention/tell/imply that parts happened so you can focus on the story you’re currently sharing. For instance, maybe your short story is simply the inciting incident, but the reader must finish knowing the road of trial and error and final resolution will come.

OR

Maybe your short story is simply the dark moment in the hero’s journey. There needs to be just enough for the reader to know that he has been through lots of challenge and failure to bring him to this point even though we don’t get to experience all of it. Here the ending needs to give the reader a sense that the hero has reached some conclusion or epiphany that will help him be successful in the next encounter with evil—even though the reader doesn’t get to see it.

The essential core of a short story needs to:

1. Require the character to make a choice,
2. show that choice by actions,
3. and those actions must have consequences.

Larry Brooks from (Storyfix.com)

"Only the short story writer has to approach the task from a different perspective. While those elements need to be there, they don’t always need to be on the page. 
Conflict. Stakes. Need. Journey. Opposition. Characterization. Setting. Arena. Sub-text. Voice.
They all need to be there.
Even if they’re not." 

In order to do all of this, the short story writer has to focus on the plot/theme/reason/purpose of the story. Why does this story have to be written? What’s the point in telling it? There must be one and the writer must take conscious and careful effort to always be working toward that goal. There’s no time to get sidetracked.

“When you do choose a sub-set of the larger story paradigm, the part you isolate should be written from an unspoken context of the entire architecture.
Which means, your character came from somewhere… something changes… they respond to that change… something else changes… they attack their problem or goal… something else changes yet again… and then things resolve.
Where you jump into that sequence is your choice as a short story writer. One that the novelist doesn’t have.” 

So that's how writing short stories can help me as a novelist.

Every word MUST do something for the story. There is no space for extra words that have no purpose. And I have to know what that purpose is from the very beginning.

Let's Practice:
Choose/make up/whatever a character and write a three sentence synopsis of his/her story based on the central core points. This is the beginning and focus to your short story.

1. Require the character to make a choice,
2. show that choice by actions,
3. and those actions must have consequences.

Share by posting them in the comments! 

Examples from my shorts:

Gareth must choose between accepting a mission to the planet’s surface alone or staying on the ship. He states he’s capable of killing the other candidates if necessary to be chosen, and after he’s chosen he steals extra supplies hoping they will help him survive on the planet. Gareth finds the earth habitable but his mission objective is waiting to deal death if he can’t answer one question correctly. (The Sleeper)

Linda must decide between continuation or dying a slow death by age. She leaves everything behind and goes to the continuation facility. Once she’s a part of the collection of human minds she learns it was never a choice and there are dark forces at work on earth. (Continuation)

Come back this afternoon to find our photo prompts and practice some flash fiction.

Story Structure--What Does it Really Mean?

It I asked you what the structure of a good story was...what would you say?

Would you draw me a diagram? Maybe something like this...

Or this...

We've all seen lots of diagrams and heard words like:

• Three Acts or Beginning, Middle, End
• Inciting Incident
• Rising Action
• Mid-point Reversal
• Dark Moment
• Climax
• Falling Action/Resolution/Denouement

But what in the world does all of that really mean?

What if I showed it to you like this? (I found the following HERE.)

Algis Budrys’s seven point story structure:

1. a character, 
2. in a situation,
3. with a problem, 
4. who tries repeatedly to solve his problem, 
5. but repeatedly fails, (usually making the problem worse), 
6. then, at the climax of the story, makes a final attempt (which might either succeed or fail, depending on the kind of story it is), after which 
7. the result is “validated” in a way that makes it clear that what we saw was, in fact, the final result. 

Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey:

1. The hero is confronted with a challenge, 
2. rejects it, 
3. but then is forced (or allowed) to accept it. 
4. He travels on the road of trials, 
5. gathering powers and allies, and 
6. confronts evil—only to be defeated. 
7. This leads to a dark night of the soul, after which 
8. the hero makes a leap of faith that allows him to 
9. confront evil again and be victorious. 
10. Finally, the student becomes the teacher.

Does it make more sense? Is it easier to put your character on one of these tracks?

It was for me. Having the diagram was great, but having a simple list like this was even better. Now I can plug my story idea in and see if I have all the parts of a complete story. Here is where I plugged in The Magic Wakes.

1. Scientist Talia Zaryn, 
2. is moving to the city from her nightmares,
3. where she knows she will meet her death. 
4. She tries to find proof of the coming invasion and clues to how to defeat the creatures.
5. But she keeps coming up empty. In the process she attracts the attention of the Royalist who believe she's part of an underground movement to take over the government. 
6. Talia finally convinces the Royalist Commander that she's not the threat and that she might actually hold the key to saving their world. Shortly thereafter, 
7. the Dragumon invasion begins and Talia uses her magical talent to focus the energy from thousands of untrained mages in order to defeat the creatures. 

This is the core plot. Of course there are lots of sub-plots and adventures along the way, but this is essentially the main story of book one in my series. There are consequences to #7, but that's an entirely different story. 

Plug in your story idea and see what you come up with. Share if you like, or simply share with us if you learned something new about your story by looking at it differently. 

Coming This Week

I took the month of May off. Meaning I didn't write a thing!

Shocking I know.

However, last week it was my turn to teach a workshop at my writer's group. What could I teach these amazing women?

I didn't have a clue.

But...

I had a topic I needed to learn more about. As I started looking things up and formulating a plan, great things started to happen. My mind turned back to my stories and how all these little tidbits could make them better. This week I'm going to try and share them with you.

Here's what's coming:

• Story Structure (what does it REALLY mean?)
• Short Story Structure (and how it can make your novel better)
• A Day of Exercise--Photo Prompts
• Your Short Stories for Critique

Fourth Crit: The Word

The writer says: It's from a WIP called THE WORD, a YA paranormal romance (?) set in the Regency era. 1) Does the modern-sounding voice distract from the story, 2) Are the flashbacks jarring? Should I try to incorporate them another way? 3) Thoughts on the characters? 

Word around the house is that Mr. Weston suggested he return to London immediately that he might begin preparations for the wedding; but Mr. Kingsley refused, insisting that he stay a while longer, as he had only just arrived, and George would be sorely disappointed if he left so soon.   That night he writes a letter to his parents and friends in London, telling them of the good news and assuring everyone that he'll be home in a fortnight.   I know because I'm serving tea in the parlor, where he, George, and Harriett have gathered for the evening, Mr. and Mrs. Kingsley having gone off to bed.

After he seals the letters and tucks them away, he picks up a book, settling back in his chair while Harriett watches him from across the room.   Meanwhile George examines a clock with feigned interest, but it's all very plain that they're waiting for Mr. Weston to put down his reading.   He doesn't, and after a few minutes of strained silence, Harriett huffs and rises to her feet.

"Do tell me, Mr. Weston, are you always this dull?   Go on like this and I may have second thoughts about marrying you."

He doesn't even look up from his book.   "Why am I dull, darling?"

I start at the word.   A tea cup tumbles from my tray and shatters on the floor.   Darling.   It doesn't sit right with me, but I pretend not to notice and begin to sweep up the mess.

"You and your…your…"   Harriett waves at the novel, "…your  book.   Why don't you play cards with George and me?"

"No, thank you, dear."

"Hmph!"   She places her hand on her lip and pouts, but her eyes still maintain their twinkle.   "My husband will  not  spend his evenings  reading, when he could be doing something useful!   Like…like…How about you watch me perform on the pianoforte?"

I do my best to stifle a laugh, but it comes out a snort anyway.   Only Weston notices, and when he smiles, I can't help but wonder if he's chuckling at Harriett, or at me.

"Go ahead and play, love.   The beauty of books is that I can listen and read at the same time."

George butts in, for the first time turning away from the clock.   "Come now, Weston.   Play cards with us."   He crosses the room and slips the book right out from between Weston's fingers, snaps it shut and drops it on a mahogany table.

Weston purses his lips, but doesn't say anything as he picks himself up and settles at the card table. George shuffles the deck:   thith-thith-thith-thith…

…The wind beats against the cottage.   Through the thin walls I hear the trees rattle:   thith-thith-thith-thith.   I snuggle against Father's chest, so that his warmth will seep into my bones.   Nearby Mother sews up a hole in a pair of trousers.   Her fingers move rhythmically back and forth, and before long I'm in a trance that shatters only when she sets down her work to answer a knock at the door.

"I am sorry to intrude, Madame, but I am traveling and 'ope zat you might let me stay ze night?"   He speaks with a thick French accent, and later tells us his name is Bernard LaFontaine, and he has traveled all the way from Orleans.

I assume you've already established that her parents ran a boarding-house/inn/whatever? A little transition here from meeting Bernard at the door to feeding him would help -- I assume they invited him in, sat him down somewhere, etc. You want to save his dramatic reveal for later, that's fine, but just a little something so it's clear Mother isn't making him eat while standing in the door. 

Mother hands him a bowl of steaming broth and a crust of bread.   He thanks her, but before he eats he removes his coat, hangs it over a chair, and from his pockets draws a book.   A thin book, easy to hide, with a worn leather binding and stiff, uneven pages of a grayish yellow.   In the candlelight it seems to pulsate words, words, words, until I'm dizzy with words but can't pin any of them down.

Father notices the book, too, but doesn't say anything about it.   "Have you been long in Kent, Monsieur LaFontaine?"

"No, Monsieur.   I 'ave just come from London, actually…"

"Oh, London!   I just can't wait to go.   Do tell me, Charlie, that we'll visit there often once we're married?"   Harriett is again back on her favorite subject, and though I'm tired of hearing about London, her voice draws me out of my stupor.

I've been cleaning up this same teacup for ten minutes now, but nobody has noticed except for maybe Weston.   Every few seconds he glances my way, and when I lift my eyes to his, he doesn't avert his gaze.   Which terrifies me.   I am invisible.   A ghost among gods.   The Kingsleys only see me when they  want  to see me, and that's only to give orders.   But what really scares me is the way he seems to look not so much at me but through me.

As though my mind is an open book, and he just read it.

I swipe up the rest of the mess and rush out of the parlor, the tea service rattling on the tray.   In the hall I slump in the shadows, my back pressed against the wall as my heart drums, so loudly I swear they can hear it in the next room.

"What's wrong with you, Pippa?" I breathe aloud.   A chorus of laughter erupts around the card table.   It rumbles over the carpet, crackling and thunderous…

The card table's crackling and thunderous? On a carpet? Well, maybe, but all the antique card tables I've seen were pretty lightweight things.

…A flash of light, and he's only a silhouette in the doorway.   I begin to tremble, but Father hushes me and rubs my arms, until I'm still and safe in his embrace.   Mother waves for LaFontaine to come inside, but he just stands at the threshold, his hat in his hands despite the oncoming rain.

Maybe you should mention the storm more clearly in the first part of the flashback. You mentioned wind, but that doesn't necessarily mean a thunderstorm, to me.

Highlight: this pronoun is risky, because the actual antecedent is Weston... but I think the context is clear enough that it's not Weston... Judgement call, for you. :)

"You should know, Madame, zat I am a cursed man."   He whispers it, but the wind picks up the words and carries them to my little ears.

Mother glances at Father, and he takes over.   "Nonsense!   Cursed or not, we couldn't turn away a traveler, and definitely not when there's a storm on the way."

"I'm serious, Monsieur.   I'm a cursed man…"

I try to shake away their voices, but they stick, loud and heavy.   So clear my parents and Monsieur LaFontaine might have been in the next room, talking over tea and biscuits.

"What's happening to me?"   These are fancies fit for nightmares.   Memories only able to slip into my mind when unconscious takes over and my fortifications crumble.   Always I've managed to push them from my head by thinking of other things:   my work, my books.   Happier memories, like Father's lessons or my afternoons with Jonathan.   Not particularly easy, but it works.   Usually.   So why now?

I had no problems with the voice up until here -- it's somewhat antiquated, but not overbearingly so, and I think it works. (caveat: I don't read Regency, and I understand it's a demanding genre.) The unconscious is, of course, a Freudian concept that post-dates the Regency. The highlighted part sounds especially modern, to me, in its word choice and pacing.

Chairs scrape across the parlor floor, reminding me of my duties.   Soon Harriett will retire, and I'll have to help her make ready for bed.   I rush the tea service back to the kitchen, all the while praying that the memories don't get worse.

Are the flashbacks jarring: a little, but given the context I think they ought to be jarring. Just be careful with the pronouns and rigorously consistent with those ellipses. 

Thoughts on the characters: well, LaFontaine sounds interesting. :) Pippa, it depends on how seriously she takes the "ghost among gods" idea -- it's not one I would find endearing. Everyone in the parlor sounds kinda dull to me, but we didn't meet them very much. Weston comes off a bit predatory. 

As indicated by my general lack of complaining, I think this is pretty good!

First crit of the week

A writer bravely throws this scene under my red pen:

A man’s hand reached out from the smoky-plated mirror and caressed River’s cheek. The dark pink nails glowed against her pale skin. A rusted manacle chain dangled from his fist, clinking softly as the open cuff slapped around her arm. River was trapped like an animal trapped in a cage. Her lips trembled, but she would not cry. Crying would only prove she was weak. Instead, she would make him suffer, but how? A sudden impulse spurred her thoughts into actions and her hand darted to the free-swinging manacle and she slapped the open end of the shackles onto his wrist, clicking it shut. She heard a startled gasp escape from his mouth and felt the jerk on her hand as he instantly drew his arm away. Too late, he seemed to realize what she had done. His arm was shackled to River’s wrist.

You win the first crit by putting up an interesting image that caught my eye as I was copy/pasting all the submissions into Blogger. However: if he's caressing her cheek, how is he also holding a manacle chain in his fist? I would assume a caress is delivered with an open hand. Or is there a second hand involved?  Second: she took the manacle away from him? Easily? Not real smart to hand somebody a manacle while you're reaching through a magic mirror, is it... but then you say that now he's shackled to her. So... now I'm confused about the shackle. Maybe there was a previous scene and your readers knew she was already half shackled, and why half of it would be left open for her to play with, but if there wasn't then you need to be clearer about the starting situation and how River managed this. 

On the whole, a good start. The highlighted phrase is a bit of wordiness I think you don't need. How about: On impulse, her hand darted...

 “You—!” he exclaimed, his voice between surprise and outrage. Again, he pulled his arm back, jerking against the chain, and River’s hand went with him. “What have you done? You loony girl. Do you think I do not have a key for these chains?"

She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror, and immediately stopped her fluttering eyes. Unprepared for his response, she cocked her eyes upwards and spied a key hanging from a hook. She snatched the key and slipped it down the bodice of her dress.  Immediately she felt her face grow hot and her mirror image proved her cheeks now flamed red.

“You are a mad woman!” Who said this?

The voice from the mirror was calm, deliberate, almost detached. “What possessed you to do something as childish as that? What were you thinking?”

River paused for a moment, struggling to sort her thoughts.

Is this really happening? No, it can’t be. Mirrors can’t talk. It must be a memory, but whose? Where am I in this memory?

If somebody remembers a mirror talking, then mirrors must be able to talk. Is there a reason that River wouldn't know that..? is it weird...?

She drew in a deep breath and tried to recall the time and place. Oh, yes. This wasn’t her memory. There was a convict onboard a ship. The poor girl had been sold into slavery but she escaped and River had been asked to erase the memory to protect the runaway slave. Thank goodness she remembered, but River had no choice but to follow along until the memory played itself out.

Highlight: the runaway slave, or River?

“I refuse to let you take me below this God-forsaken ship with the common criminals housed there. I do not belong there any more than you belong there. If I go, you go,” she said as she pinched her lips together.

The man lost his speech and River could tell he tried his best not to smile, as the reality of what she had done settled in. Half-comical. Half-dreadful. Completely crazy. As usual.

River glared into his eyes. She would make sure he did not win without a fight. Yanking her arm to her waist, the man fell completely out of the looking glass.

Just a thought: you could put the "River glared..." paragraph before she says "I refuse..." Also: how about a little description of this guy?

“Give me the key back,” he demanded, extending his free hand toward her, palm up. “Give me that key or I’ll rip that dress right off your body and retrieve it myself.”

That's very polite of him. She's a prisoner, sold into slavery (according to the memory) -- why's he being polite to her, and not immediately beating her down and ripping her clothes off?

River shook her head and stamped her foot on the floor.  “I will not return the key peaceably. I refuse to go below with the other convicts. I do not belong there.” River said.

The man narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He reached out and grabbed the eyelet of River’s collar, but as he yanked the material, River stepped back and he fell against the frame of the mirror. A pink light flashed, and suddenly, River stood alone.

The two hundred year old memory dissipated like fog on a cold night, as if written in the Memory Book with invisible ink.

The runaway slave was 200+ years old? Okay. I'm left wondering: does this mean River succeeded in erasing this memory? I hope you explain that ASAP. Because you said that she was just following along -- so everything she did is what the slave did? How does that erase a memory? Or was it just the last bit of struggle that broke the pattern?

On the whole, this was a decent scene. It could use a little more place-setting: I don't know if this happened in a prison, on the slave ship, or somewhere else. Sketching in the surroundings some more would clear that up.

Characters: what's on the page

The information about characters that ends up on the page takes many forms, does many jobs: it's in the narration, in the dialogue, it's in the exposition and action and tone. So the list below is only a few of the aspects of character that need to get onto the page.

Appearance
Personally, a character description that gets down to the height of his/her cheekbones isn't important to me. It has its place, though. Some genres put far more weight on description, both of the characters and their world, because it's a cornerstone of the ambiance. Romances, for example. On the darker side of that, horror.

Are appearance and character connected? That taps into the old (and ever-relevant) question of whether beautiful = good and ugly = evil. And certainly if there's something unusual about a character's appearance, that will change how they're treated by those around them and that will influence their personality.

Backstory
In general, a writer can say less than they believe they need to when it comes to backstory. But those details that are immediately relevant to the story -- that explain why a character has unusual motivations,  or why s/he makes a choice that would seem odd to the reader -- do need to get onto the page. Not much more than that, though.

But it adds depth and complexity: up to a point, yes. This is another point where genre and reader expectations come into play. And your gut instincts.

Voice
The character's voice can be distinct from your narrative voice. If your character is the narrator, they're the same. Do you know who's narrating your story? (It doesn't have to be the character, even in tight third person.)

Voice is pervasive: it influences word choice, grammar, what's focused on and what isn't, what's glossed over and what's described in detail. A character's voice is influenced by everything from world-building to personality type. Well developed voices can distinguish characters from each other, within a story, using only a sentence or two of untagged dialogue.

In my experience, as a character develops you get a clearer sense of what's important to them, what they focus on, what words they use and why... all of which your gut uses to structure their voice, because your gut knows how people structure the things they say to emphasize what's important to them.

If your gut's having trouble with that, I bet that reading about how to write speeches or advertising copy would help. Those are both situations where information is structured specifically to get a certain idea across.

Action
Action is character, after all.

Inactive characters are a personal peeve. It's a valid point that inaction defines character as well as action does -- I just find such characters annoying -- but let's talk about small actions for a minute. Let's say your character needs to chew on something, mentally, for a while and this is going to explain things the reader needs to know.

Your character could do this while sitting in a chair staring at a blank wall. Boring. You could say that the character is doing some simple chore while they're thinking. You could, also, intersperse the thinking with small details of the actions involved in that chore -- making them not generic actions but small indicators of personality.

Say your character's making a salad while they're ruminating. How do you make a salad? Personally, I take all the components out, pile them up and work my way through. I start with the lettuce, which I chop with a knife rather than hand-tearing. I don't use bagged mixes. These are all bits of my personality. (Feel free to steal them.)

What would you add to my list?

Wrapping it up

Resolution
It's also known as the falling action. This is the part after the big climax, when things begin to settle down. The  fallout is dealt with. Lingering loose ends are tied up -- or not. This part of the story can be very short, or it can run for some thousands of words, depending on how much you need to clean up, what your readers expect you to address in wrapping up the story, and whether you're laying groundwork for further novels.

Major life changes
Death, marriage, a serious psychological upheaval... readers want to know the characters are going to be okay. That they've adjusted to the new situation, or are making progress toward that.

Back to normal
If your story was about fixing something and getting back to normal, show us that it worked. A little zinger can be fun, though, if things aren't quite they way they used to be.

Ask: what next?
If your characters are riding off into the sunset for further adventures (whether you're going to write them or not) then do give us that riding-into-the-sunset shot. In some ways, this is very similar to the "Back to normal" situation, especially if your characters are career adventurers -- heading off is normal, for them. If you've got a follow-up novel in mind, you can throw a few hints in here.

Don't let this slide
Getting to the end of a novel is exhausting. But bear in mind that this the last of your writing the reader will see until your next book. You don't want to leave them frustrated -- though curious is good, maybe a hint of "hmm, that could be a problem in the future," and warm fuzzy feelings are popular too.

Getting to the end of this series of posts was exhausting too. See you for the contest in August!

Which domino fell first?

Inciting Incident

Photo by Sigurd Decroos,
available at sxc.hu

This is where it all begins. This is the thing that set everything in motion; it's the first domino to fall. And it can be surprisingly difficult to pin down. Is it when two characters met? When something broke? What?

You need a clear grasp of what the conflict in your story is before you can dig out its deepest roots. You need to know why the conflict exists and what will be needed to solve it. This can get into some deep psychology -- or it can be as simple as "You killed my father. Prepare to die."

Hopefully, having started at the climax and worked your way back has clarified your conflict and what goes into it. Often, you have an idea where it all started already and it's creating the steps in between that's difficult. You may find yourself dealing with several inciting incidents for several plot lines. Or maybe by the time you get here your first idea won't work and the inciting incident was something else entirely.

I often have an idea where the story begins, when I start plotting, because that can be a dramatic scene too. Something traumatic happens, or something is discovered -- it's an oh, crap, we've got a problem moment for the characters and those can be fun.

The journey begins
All stories boil down to a journey, however small or abstract. Let's stick with Inigo Montoya as a good example of this. (If you don't know who I'm talking about, go rent and watch The Princess Bride IMMEDIATELY. We'll wait. Heck, we'll watch with you.) His plot is simple: he intends to kill the six-fingered man. Sketching this out, we get:

Inciting incident: Inigo's father is murdered by the six-fingered man
First plot point: He begins to study fencing
Other plot points: He searches for the six-fingered man
Other plot points: He learns the identity of the six-fingered man
Other plot points: He helps storm the castle so he can get at his enemy
Climax: Inigo confronts the six-fingered man and kills him
Resolution: He is offered the job of being Dread Pirate Roberts

If we were working backward from the climax, the first thing Inigo needed to do was get to his enemy. Therefore, he needed to know who his enemy was and where he was. Those could have been easy, but then what would the challenge have been? The writers decided that Inigo didn't know his enemy's identity and learning that would be a significant plot point. Why do it this way? Probably so it would integrate well with the other plots in The Princess Bride. (If he'd known, how might his plot have run to still get him to the climax?)

Where the climb began

First Plot Point
This is sometimes called the point of no return. This is the first step taken toward the climax of the story. Your characters get off their collective butts and do something. Maybe they're reluctant, maybe they're eager, but they have a goal and they're heading toward it.

I say that because of how often I want to take a cattle prod to characters in something I'm reading. Yes, this includes professionally published books. I do not understand the fascination with characters who refuse to do anything or to take any initiative.

Clear conflict
As mentioned in yesterday's post, the conflict needs to be genuine and serious. It also needs to be clear to the reader -- in that there is a conflict. Mysterious antagonists with unknown plots are all well and good, but it does need to be clear that something is afoot and the characters are going to do something about it.

Other problems
Sub-plots are a common feature in books, whether they're things that must be done before addressing the major problem or parallel plotlines involving minor characters and other challenges. The short answer on what to do with them is: write a full plot sketch for each one, with all of the steps, and work them into the main plotline. A scene that's an Other Plot Point for the main plot may also be the Climax of a secondary plot.

Photo by Cindy Stover,
available at sxc.hu

Is this the beginning? 
The story might begin at the first plot point. Or maybe at the inciting incident. TV writers have developed a habit, recently, of starting just before the climax and then flashing back to tell the beginning of the story -- I hate this.  I hated it when Lovecraft told me the end of the story first, too. Then again, Lovecraft's stories all end pretty much the same.

It's a question of how much you will need to explain to the reader in exchange for beginning at a dramatic moment. Exposition is a whole 'nother series of posts, though.

Plotting the way down the mountain

Other Plot Points

Photo courtesy of sxc.hu

This is the tricky part. This is where you plot the course down the mountain -- if we say that the climax is a mountain peak -- in such a way that climbing up the mountain will be difficult and interesting. And logical.

Going into this, it helps to know some things. Chances are good that the list will change as you plot.

• Players: how many characters have a stake in the climax, and why.
• Conflicts: what puts them in conflict with other characters, why, and what would be a "win" for them.
• Circumstances: the role that the setting plays in the plot -- limitations imposed by place and time. Be careful with these, because the writer's hand can become too obvious if circumstances and/or coincidence dictate too much of the plot.

Track collision courses
Your climax is the final collision of two or more characters who are at cross purposes. There will have been previous collisions, in which what needs to be done became clear, and/or things were done to prepare for the climax despite the set-backs the characters have received. No final solutions were reached, though, and the tension increased.

Build tension
The Other Plot Points need to track a course of increasing tension. The stakes are getting higher, the consequences are getting worse, the characters have less to work with, or they have more to worry about. Don't blot out all hope, though. Maybe things get very dark before the characters put together the clues you gave them and figure out how to defeat their enemy, but don't paint your heroes into a corner that you'll have to rescue them from with some sort of deus ex machina.

Would five minutes of talking solve everything? 
Or: is this a real and serious conflict? If you find your plot relying on interruptions and coincidences to maintain tension, you might not have a serious conflict. If you find that your characters actually agree and you're trying to keep them from realizing that, you've got a problem. (I found myself in that situation, while working on these posts. So I took my plot sketch out back and shot it. Started over with the characters disagreeing, and why.)

Foreshadowing, patterns, etc.
There are tons of other things you can do in your plot lines: hint at what's to come, set patterns and then mess around with them, throw curve balls (which you planned, of course) to keep the characters on their toes, crush their hopes and dreams repeatedly, and plenty more. They all need to build toward the climax, though.

Walking backwards: starting at the climax

Climax
This is the scene I often see first -- the big, dramatic one where everything has come to a head. The characters are shouting, fighting, blowing stuff up. Or maybe it's an emotionally charged scene, where relationships are at stake and everything hangs on a single word. Either way, the big question is: how do we get there?

Photo courtesy of sxc.hu

Earned wins
Characters must earn their victories. They have to put the work in, take the risks, suffer the consequences. Getting to the climax had to be difficult. The climax itself has to be difficult. How is this scene a "win" for the characters involved? Is it a big win, or just scraping by? How much anguish did they go through to get here?

Good solution to the problem, and why
Needless to say, this all must make sense and work. It needs to have been clearly defined and explained, and the consequences of failure laid out. It's clear and obvious why this was a problem, and why it needs to be solved this way.

Since you may not know what's going on, entirely, make note of all the elements involved. Things said, things done, emotional states. If one character comes into the scene furious, you'll need to figure out why. If a vase is smashed to make a point, you need to know why the vase is significant -- or what the act of smashing meant, if the vase itself was not important.

Promises you made 
A climax is a chance to pay off your readers. There will be many opportunities to keep the promises you've made to your readers, but this is a big one. The nature of a climax -- action-oriented or highly emotional -- is often influenced by genre expectations, so bear that in mind as well. What are your readers going to want to see? This may not be entirely clear until you've worked out more of the plot, but it's good to be thinking about it throughout. 

Be flexible
Expect things to change while you're working all of this out. That line about murdering your darlings may come into play. Do not be flexible about logic, however. Yes, anything can be pulled off (he wants to kill my sister, therefore I must marry him) with enough character development and explaining, but the less logical it is, the more work you'll have to do to sell it.

Which is not an argument against doing something wild and different, of course. Don't expect the reader to come along quietly -- you've got to persuade them that all of this makes perfect sense given the circumstances.

The five parts of a plot

There are many ways to plot a novel. In general, stories build from the beginning to a climax, then wrap up and end. You can use a three-act structure, or a four-act structure, you can have a series of catastrophes and lots of falling action, maybe your "dark night of the soul" lasts until the final page.

You can begin in the middle or present events out of chronological order, but the structure still exists.

This is one way to do it. Personally, I do my plotting mostly backwards -- because I need to figure this all out before I start writing. If you're a pantser and you're working with what you've already written, this can still help. Let's define the steps in their correct order, briefly.

Diagram by L. Blankenship.

Inciting Incident
It's said that there are really only two inciting incidents: the beginning of a journey, or the arrival of a stranger. In other words, the status quo is disrupted and something must happen as a result. 

First Plot Point
The first step is taken toward the climax.

Other Plot Points
These scenes track the progress toward the climax, involving progress made, set-backs, and working through obstacles.

Climax
The scene or series of scenes in which the conflict is confronted and resolved.

Resolution
Also known as the falling action; tidying up, settling, and finishing the story.

As I wrote this series of posts, I was working out the structure of Disciple, Part V. One of the plotlines is: the king must work out a new alliance with the queen of a neighboring country. When I began this, I had a small handful of scene ideas based on things that interest me, and character moments I would like to have. Here's what I worked out:

• Inciting Incident: The king, Kiefan, comes to see the queen of the neighboring country, Ciara, to work out an alliance. They already have a rocky history and would've been just as glad to not meet again.
• 
First Plot Point: Ciara refuses to see him. 

• Other Plot Points: Kiefan tries to break the ice, but Ciara makes it clear that he has nothing to offer.
• Other Plot Points: He keeps after her, over several scenes, because he really needs this alliance. But it's not looking good and they're  getting angry at each other. 
• 
Other Plot Points: Ciara suddenly changes her tune and starts making demands. (This stems from developments in her own plot line.) Kiefan's suspicious, and still feeling insulted, and reacts more harshly than he ought to. Now it's looking like they'll be at war rather than allied. 

• Climax: A third character must step up and be a go-between here (she has her own plotline too.) She has to explain the situation to Kiefan and make him see that he needs to make some concessions to Ciara -- and she will to him -- in order to make this alliance work. 

• Climax, continued: Kiefan and Ciara manage to work this out without starting a war. 

• Resolution: Kiefan gets the military support he needs from the alliance.

Reading this now, it looks a heck of a lot like a standard romance plot. Note: There is no falling in love in this story. Feedback is welcome -- does this seem reasonable? What questions pop up in your mind?

If you have a plot sketched out and you'd like feedback on it, feel free to email that to: unicornbellsubmissions at gmail dot com. I will post them for comments. It won't be a crit, exactly, just a chance to see what questions your plot raises and whether the logic holds together.