The Seven Basic Plots

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine


If you're a writer who's been on Facebook or YouTube lately, you've probably been presented with a video ad for Ron Howard's Master Class on Directing. In the promo, he makes reference to a theory held by some that there are "seven stories".  I thought we might briefly explore those seven story lines from which most tales spring forth.

Christopher Booker is credited for writing the book on the subject, namely The Seven Basic Plots: Why we tell stories. At around 700 pages, it's a thorough analysis of each story line, breaking each down into their own set of stages. For the sake of this post, here is an oversimplification:

Overcoming the Monster
Not always a literal monster, but a major threat to our hero, who takes up the challenge to destroy it.

Rags to Riches
An underdog overcomes the odds to become top dog.

The Quest
Our hero must find a treasure of great value, and embarks on a journey to find it. 

Voyage and Return
Our hero lands in a place unlike home and must learn new rules to prevail. Eventually he/she returns home better than before.

Comedy
A goal is impeded by funny obstacles.  Often, if the main obstacle is a person, they get a come-uppance in the end.

Tragedy
Our hero is his own worst enemy, with qualities that lead to his downfall.

Rebirth
The ultimate character arc, in which the hero transforms into a new being, literally or figuratively.

In reading these, you may have already assessed that many stories contain more than one of these plots, and you'd be correct.  For example, isn't The Wizard of Oz a quest for a treasure as well as a voyage to a strange world?  Booker himself acknowledges the frequent overlap of two or more of these plots, and even mentions two more which he considers less common:

Rebellion
The hero rebels but ultimately surrenders to, and perhaps joins, the powers that be.

Mystery
The hero seeks to discover the truth of a murder or other unexplained event.

Some writers feel that lumping stories into categorized plots is disrespecting their originality. Others feel that there are as many as 25 plots, not merely seven. Ron Howard implies that there is just one, but we may have to buy his Master Class to learn what that is.

In his classic book Story, legendary screenwriting expert Robert McKee declares: "A rule says you must do it this way. A principle says this works, and has through all remembered time."  Why reinvent the wheel from scratch when someone has already rounded off the edges for you?

The fact that we can think of our favorite movies or books and see how they fit into one or more of these story lines is testament to their enduring effectiveness and popularity.  Could you possibly insert your hero's name into one of the seven plots and refine it into the logline for your next novel?  Your own creativity will make the time-tested tale uniquely yours.

Authors: which of these seven (or nine) would you say approximates the primary plot of your most recent novel?

What Are Your Headlines?

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine

Apparently Mark Zuckerberg became a father this weekend, for the second time. Yahoo deemed this newsworthy, and as I read this headline and a few others, something struck me that relates to storytelling.

Who cares?

I'm not suggesting nobody cares, what I'm asking is who is it that cares? Certainly it's a life-changing event for the parents of any new child, so they go at the top of the list. Next in line would be their families, then friends, then associates, and so on. At some point fans of the co-founder of Facebook presumably care, as do writers for Yahoo.

Meanwhile, North Korea was testing hydrogen bombs.

There you have one news story with limited impact on the average person's life, and another news story with considerably greater potential. Which of these stories, if you were to put them in your novel, would keep your reader up at night turning pages?

Fact is, either one is fair game, since a comedy-drama can easily exploit the challenges of something as normal as parenthood, while the threat of nuclear war is a spy thriller staple. Perhaps even better, combine them: if the undercover agent's wife or daughter has just given birth, does that not raise the stakes for the hero?

The point is, every life event, however big or small, can have a role in a story if it furthers the plot or adds a layer of interest. Like reporters always looking for a scoop, storytellers need look no further than the daily events around us to find plausible plot points and twists.

As you look back over your own life, there are certain episodes that stand out in your mind more than others. These headlines of your life are step one if you're writing a memoir, but any one of them makes you uniquely qualified to fictionalize it as an event in your novel. You had to live through it; why not capitalize on it?

It's good to think of the significant events in your novel as if they were headlines, and to make each one newsworthy. Some may be a personal crisis just for the hero while others may be the basis for widespread panic. Give your characters captivating headlines to live out, and your audience will stick around to read all about it.

Who Is Your Contagonist?

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine

Every good story that has conflict (and every good story does have conflict!) includes at least one hero and at least one villain. As savvy storytellers ourselves, we look for and easily spot the protagonist and the antagonist in the tales we read and watch.  Among the most obvious:

Protagonist: Harry Potter
Antagonist: Lord Voldemort

Protagonist: Dorothy
Antagonist: The Wicked Witch of the West

Protagonist: Batman
Antagonist: The Joker, countless others

We've come to expect that these two archetypes won't come in full head-to-head combat with each other until the final confrontation. The story has to build up to that exciting climax through a variety of complications.  And that's where the contagonist comes in.

So who is the contagonist?  First, let's affirm that the protagonist is "for" something (like achieving the main goal) and that the antagonist is "against" it.  The contagonist plays a role that is "contrary" to the hero's pursuit.  That is, standing in the way of it, or being a distraction from it, though not necessarily with the evil intent of an enemy.

For example, Professor Snape could be considered a contagonist for Harry Potter.  He's not the villain of the story, but he provides tension and conflict along the way.

You could even look at the Wizard of Oz himself as something of a contagonist, because he impedes Dorothy's quest to go home by first giving her a major assignment.

Silence of the Lambs' Hannibal Lector is both an ally and a complication for Detective Starling.  In a buddy comedy like Dumb and Dumber, the heroes are often each other's biggest hurdle.

As in the above examples, the line can be blurred between contagonist and mentor or any other archetype. That alone can add an extra layer of depth to the story.  And yes, the contagonist is sometimes an ally of the antagonist, as in the case of a henchman, or perhaps someone in competition with the adversary.

As you might suspect, the contagonist doesn't have to be human.  Just as the main antagonist can be an asteroid hurling toward Earth or a drought that threatens the farm, any person, thing or circumstance that stands between the hero and the achievement of his/her goal can be considered a contagonist.

A winter storm that keeps someone from getting home in time to stop a wedding. A job change. A lost wallet. A surprise visitor. Any of these can throw a curve ball into the mix.  None intend to thwart the hero, but they do the trick.  The Out of Towners (1970) and Planes, Trains and Automobiles (1987) are examples of non-malevolent roadblocks to simply getting from one place to another.

Since conflict is at the heart of story, could you add some characters or circumstances that will further delay your hero's progress?  A series of complications that aren't traced to the antagonist will provide added surprises for your audience. And, by some clever coincidence, conquering one of these very complications just might provide the exact skill or know-how that comes in handy during the final confrontation.

Five Ways to Get Into Your Character's Head

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine

"If you could read my mind," Gordon Lightfoot once sang, "what a tale my thoughts would tell."  We may approach a story that we write as one single story, but it has more layers for readers to enjoy when we take advantage of the fact that each of our main characters has his or her own hidden history.

How do we unlock those secrets deep inside our fictional friends?  I offer these five easy pathways to perception.

FEEL THE FEAR
Knowing your characters' primary goal for the story (finding the right mate, conquering an enemy, winning a case), imagine the worst that can happen to them.  What will be the consequences if they fail?  What obstacles can you put in place to make it all but impossible to succeed?

Not feeling their pain yet?  Up the stakes by giving them an internal struggle in direct conflict with their goal.  Claustrophobia could be a roadblock for a race car driver.  A med student with a queasy stomach also has demons to contend with.  There's wonderful irony afoot when someone is their own biggest obstacle.

GRILL THEM
One by one, sit your heroes, villains and other significant characters across from you in a virtual chair and play doctor.  Dr Sigmund Freud, that is.  Or Dr Joyce Brothers.  (Or Dr Ruth, if you dare.)  Ask your character probing questions about their life, their background, their goals, etc.  But don't stop there.  Get really personal and ask why they became a brain surgeon, why they want to be a rock star, why they promised themselves to see the world before they're 30.

But don't stop there either.  Keep digging deeper until you uncover the real reason why it's a matter of life and death to them that they succeed in their goals.  Persist, because they'll be as evasive about revealing their true selves as you are. Be Barbara Walters and make them cry if you have to. Don't worry, they'll forgive you.

CONSULT AN EXPERT
Your circle of friends and acquaintances is an extravaganza of information and personal experience to help with your character development. Is your hero a policeman? A mailman? A dental hygienist? Someone you know or someone they know would be glad to help you flesh out the inner workings of your character.

In the name of full disclosure, you may want to tell them ahead of time that it's for literary accuracy. They'll be more open and inclined to tell all.  I once pummeled a nurse friend with an inquisition about hospital procedure until she accused, "You're doing research for your book, aren't you?"

IMMERSE YOURSELF
Walk a mile in your character's shoes.  If he or she has a penchant for gambling, spend a day at a casino. If they have a green thumb, get your fingers dirty in the garden or hang out at a nursery.  If they are a beach bum, I can think of worse things than sipping piña coladas in a hammock for the sake of research.

LISTEN THROUGH THEIR EARS
Just like you, your character has very individual taste in music. Would he/she listen to pop tunes, oldies, heavy metal, country, soul, hip-hop, classical? Who are his or her favorite artists? While you're pondering your character, tune into that type of station or call up the genre on AccuRadio.com. Filmmaker Quentin Tarantino says he'll go so far as to make a mix tape to the tune of his characters.

Or maybe your story takes place in a different time period. Someone in the 1940s was hearing big band music.  Two decades earlier, ragtime was the bee's knees.  If your story takes place in a foreign setting, music from that region makes an ideal soundtrack for your writing.

Any of these activities can help a writer hone in on the protagonist, antagonist, and anyone else in the cast. Of course, being the brilliant and imaginative wordsmiths we are, we can simply create our characters to be whomever we want them to be.  But how much more fun is it when they instead reveal themselves to us?

Catalyst on a Hot Tin Roof

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine


One of the most intriguing parts of any tale is the inciting incident.  That turning point—when the main situation of the plot is set into motion—is when we find ourselves committed to the story to see how things are going to play out.

By this point we've usually gotten to know the characters and their normal circumstances.  Just as we've gotten acclimated, along comes the catalyst that turns everything upside down.

Back to the Future: Marty's about to lose track of time

In Back to the Future that moment comes when Marty escapes terrorists by speeding away in Doc Brown's time machine and finds himself transported back to 1955.

In most cases, the inciting incident is something that happens to the hero, not something he or she causes.  Even in The Hunger Games, when Katniss makes the decision to take her sister's place in the deadly contest, it is because she is forced by her own sense of duty to do so.

In a romantic tale, multiple events will come along to complicate things, but it's the moment the lovebirds first lay eyes on each other than can usually be considered the one that turns everything topsy-turvy.

Katniss pays tribute to her sister in The Hunger Games

How soon in the story it should take place will vary, but plotters generally agree that this catalytic converter should occur during the first quarter.  For example, in Back to the Future, it happens at exactly the 1/4 mark, 30 minutes into the two-hour movie.  In The Hunger Games, it occurs only 15 minutes into the 2 1/2 hour flick.

In a different kind of example, the Oscar winner American Beauty centers around Lester's midlife crisis, which is triggered by more than one thing, including a lousy job and a cheating wife.  But the pivotal moment comes when he attends a school event and becomes enamored with his daughter's friend.  Everything prior is setup.  That inciting incident, for the record, takes place 15 minutes into the two-hour film.

Lester's life is about to change, and not for the better

Basically, the inciting incident is the event without which the main story cannot happen.  Doc Brown can invent a time machine, hunger games will take place no matter what, and Lester's unsatisfying life is already underway, but without these other key moments, the main crisis will not be inflicted upon the hero.

The most effective inciting incident will cause the audience to wonder how in the world he/she is gonna prevail over this problem.  At the very least, it will set the stage for bigger crises to increase the dilemma later.

Done right, this turning point will not only ignite the TNT of your story, but will become the no-turning-back moment for your reader too.

Where Do I Begin?

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine


You have an awesome idea for a novel.  You may even know how it should end.  Sometimes, the trickier part is knowing how you should begin the whole thing.  With that in mind, here are three typical story openers which have stood the test of time.


THE CATCH UP

Think of this as "Once upon a time" or "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away."  Fairy tales and sci-fi depend on this approach if a degree of backstory is necessary for the audience to understand what's about to happen. Why is the queen jealous of Snow White? Why are there star wars? We get the info we need right up front. 

When using this approach, be careful not to overload the first chapter with voluminous details to learn.  Readers exhaust quickly if they're required to sort out TMI.  Instead, ease into unfamiliar territory with the grace of Suzanne Collins. While there is much to learn about the dystopian world of the future, The Hunger Games filters in explanations of reapings and District 12 painlessly, alongside an identifiable story that keeps moving.

The Little Mermaid wants to be part of your world.

THE SET UP

Establishing the hero's current (i.e. "normal") circumstances before they are thrown into chaos is among the most popular story openers. It's a plus if it offers a glimpse of what they lack in life, to get your character arc off and running. A Disney heroine or Julie Andrews on a mountaintop aren't the only ones who can make their desires known in their first scene.

The opening chapter is prime time for interaction with supporting characters, and can convey the hero's personality and motivations more easily than a solo scene.  Take care, however, to have enough going on that things don't get bogged down in normalcy.  The audience wants to know and empathize with the characters, but is also eager for something to happen.

FIRE 'EM UP

Even before the opening credits, James Bond knows that some audiences like to be shaken, not stirred. The chase is on and no time is wasted getting the action underway.  Raiders of the Lost Ark, Jaws and countless other action sagas have grabbed attention from the get-go by jumping right into an inciting scene.

In the case of James Bond, we already know 007 chases bad guys, so no backstory is needed before the thrills begin.  However, if your story stars unfamiliar characters, you'll want to introduce them somewhat before throwing them into the furnace. Otherwise, the audience—which has no investment in these people yet—has little reason to care what happens to any of them.

There you have just three effective ways to start your story.  Perhaps you know some others.  I'd love to hear your favorite openers with a comment below, or via email at gary @ southernwritersmag.com. Ready?  Begin!

That's Not What I Asked

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine


 

In a conversation with another writer last week, I was reminded of the fine line between necessary details and too much information. We were discussing how often an exchange like this happens:

Person 1: When are you taking your vacation?
Person 2: Well, we were planning on going in May, but our youngest has soccer tryouts and we need to be here for that. Then my nephew and his wife are coming for a visit so we can see the new baby, and...

By the time Person 2 gets around to "What was the question again?", Person 1 is sorry they asked.

Let's not even get into those folks who take the greeting "How are you?" as an invitation to go down the laundry list of ailments and aches they've been having.  Granted, there are times when we genuinely seek a real answer when asking, "How are you?", like when Person 2 is coming out of a coma.

Watching the entertainment awards shows in recent days, one couldn't help but notice the tendency of some winners to give more information than is appropriate.  "And the Oscar goes to..." is not asking the question, "What are your thoughts on the human condition?"

Those on the receiving end of extraneous dissertations are not getting what they asked for.  When something takes a turn out of sync with our expectations, there is disappointment and often resentment.  As consumers, we are especially prone to expect a product to be that product with no undue surprises.

One of the most frequent complaints I hear from friends who read a lot is their annoyance with books that go into unneeded backstory or detail about the industry, profession or region where the story takes place.  When it gets to the point where they're skipping pages at a time, they already know they're not going to read that author again.

More than one bestselling author in Southern Writers has told us that although they may do voluminous research, they make it a point not to put it all in their story.  When it's in their head, the essential information will filter onto the page organically, without force feeding it to the reader.

Giving the audience exactly what they're asking for (a well-worded story that doesn't waste their time) will generate the preferred response when you ask, "What did you think of my book?" That's an answer you'll actually want to hear.

Stuck in the Middle

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine


The great philosopher Taylor Swift once said, "I love the ending of a movie where two people end up together. Preferably if there's rain and an airport or running or a confession of love."  I think I might have seen that movie. 

Of course, what we don't see is what comes afterwards.  We usually don't see the happy couple getting blood tests, dealing with paperwork at the registrar's office, trying to lose weight for the wedding, or arguing a year later because someone didn't take out the trash. 

"If you want a happy ending," said Orson Welles, "that depends, of course, on where you stop your story." Indeed, most stories end at the point where there is a happy ending, a resolve, or a sense of hope.  Ever since man began telling stories, beginning / middle / end has been the standard. 

But in the early days of film, movie makers realized audiences would keep coming back week after week if they were given a story that has no ending.  Thus were born short features like Flash Gordon, Superman, The Perils of Pauline, and other cliffhangers starring recurring good guys, bad guys and damsels in distress, some literally hanging from cliffs until the next installment.

That same serialized approach became a staple of radio once it came along.  Even Amos & Andy had its roots as a fractured drama, complete with a somber opening theme.  Then, only a couple of decades later, soap operas dominated TV.  Romance and drama are a natural mix for a storyline that has no ending.  No sooner is one problem solved when three more come along.

NBC keeps its biggest mystery unrevealed on The Blacklist

Today, the "continuing story" concept is more popular than ever.  It's all over nighttime television, from Game of Thrones to Downton Abbey to The Blacklist. Miss one episode and you'll miss some event so pivotal that you'll be scratching your head down the road.

But these are not simply long sagas with no end.  Each episode includes its own weekly situation to be dealt with, and while we are still baited with a cliffhanger, we receive some satisfying conclusion to the drama du jour.  Otherwise it would get frustrating to invest repeatedly in something that never pays off because the story is forever stuck in the middle.

We have an inherent craving for resolve.  Like the tales we tell, our lives contain constant ups and downs, but when we succeed, the world doesn't stop to acknowledge each victory with "THE END".  We love a hero we can identify with and feel the elusive sense of closure through.

If we've written solid characters, their lives could continue beyond the ending of our story.  Choosing the most satisfying place to close the epilogue is how we give readers what they desire.  They are thankful for happy endings, because real life tends to be one big cliffhanger.

Good Gossip

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine

Oscar Wilde once said, "If there is anything more annoying in the world than having people talk about you, it is certainly having no one talk about you."

I suppose that depends on what they're saying, of course.

But nowhere does gossip serve a higher purpose than in fiction.  If our characters are lucky (and so are we), there are plenty of other characters talking about them behind their backs.

In fiction, there is much to gain from hearsay, and I'm here to say it. Among the benefits:

BACKSTORY

Ebenezer Scrooge (and we) learn why he grew to be a loner old miser as various ghosts show him pivotal moments from his life, in which characters reveal their opinions of him to one another.  This is much more dramatic than if the ghosts had simply told him why no one likes him.

When we first saw Forrest Gump, we wondered what his deal was.  It was enlightening to hear conversations about his medical history, such as those between his mother and his doctor.

EXPOSITION

At the beginning of a story, we are just getting to know the main character.  But his/her companions and associates have known them for a long time, and have a strong sense of who they are. We are brought up to speed in short order by parents who worry about their son's choice of friends or teachers complaining about the new principal's track record.

Glimpses of trouble ahead are well served by coworkers spreading rumors, or for the evil adversary to spell out to accomplices how the hero's vulnerabilities will be exploited.

REACTION

When a bride-to-be tells a friend of her engagement, she may receive an enthusiastic congratulations, and we assume everyone's happy. But we become privy to the spinster friend's real reaction when she spews a jealous diatribe to a mutual acquaintance.

Perhaps the groom-to-be didn't propose at all, and a misunderstanding grew too big to get out of. The behind-the-scenes conversations between him and his best man tell the real story of what he's going through. The truth comes out, and it can provide an interesting turn of events when it does.

In The Invention of Lying, we saw how brutal honesty can hurt when it's told face to face. In a perfect world, apparently, a little subterfuge can actually be a good thing.  

In the all-knowing, all-seeing eyes of fiction, there are no secrets.  Enjoy exposing your characters' underlying mysteries and exploiting the salacious scuttlebutt.

But you didn't hear it from me.

7 Ways to Avoid Awkward Exposition

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine


We've talked before on the blog about heavy-handed dialogue, the kind that intends to convey meaningful insight but instead winds up as clumsy or ill-timed exposition.  There are few quicker ways to jar an audience out of your fictional magnificence and snap them back to reality.

So how are we supposed to get essential details across without banging readers over the head with blatancy? Here are several ways those who've gone before us have done it:

1. Through the voice of an expert
A detective investigating a crime, a professor teaching a class, or two colleagues having a work discussion all have valid reason to go into details that might not appear in normal conversation. Even then, it's inadvisable to spill everything at once.  We've all seen confessions on TV shows that were too easily evoked and earnestly explained.

2. In the midst of a bigger distraction
In Jaws, when shark hunter Quint describes his horrifying experiences with maneaters to Chief Brody and oceanographer Hooper, it's nighttime in a boat and we're already anticipating toothy Bruce any minute now.  We're grateful for not only the opportunity to delay the terror, but also for the informative details that tell us what we're up against.

3. As a sidenote
At a wedding in The Godfather, Michael Corleone's girlfriend wants to know how it came to be that a famous singer is attending.  The resulting story reveals essential workings of the "family business" as well as the power of Michael's don dad. It comes across as a natural extension of the conversation.

4. In a hurry
"I only have a minute to tell you this," is a good excuse to unload a lot of info in a short amount of time. In Back to the Future, Marty learns about time machines, flux capacitors and plutonium in the time it takes for Libyan terrorists to show up.

5. That old favorite, Show Don't Tell
We could either devote unnecessary pages of dialogue to having a wallflower bemoan to her friends that she doesn't hit it off with guys and has a crummy car, or we can write a dramatic scene showing her striking out at a party and getting in a car that won't start.
     In an adventure tale involving a superhero or a secret agent, we would rather see their futuristic gadgetry in action than hear about it.  If we already knew the Batmobile could turn into a boat, we wouldn't think "how cool is that" when it surprises us.

6. An eye for detail
The scenery itself has its own backstory to tell.  A reception area with perfect furniture and fresh flowers says success.  A city in ruins spells war.  A desk littered with books, papers and Oreos means you've seen my office.  Don't judge me.

7. Do It Like Disney
Disney wastes no time revealing what the heroine wants.  We hear it all in their opening number.  While our novel's protagonist may not be able to burst into song, we can give a glimpse into the longings of his or her heart through the actions they take.  Checking the want ads, joining a gym, or working on a lab experiment after coworkers all go home give some indication of motivation.
     First impressions are among the strongest, which makes the beginning of the story the ideal time to establish traits that can be subtly built upon over the course of the story.

The devil, as they say, may be in the details, but we can ease their arrival by creating non-forced moments in which to position our exposition.

Do You Hear What I Hear?

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine


Don't worry, this isn't a three-month late Christmas post.  But "Do You Hear What I Hear" is a fitting theme song for something I and a few writers were reminded of this weekend.

A friend was telling us a story involving his neighbor's very big dog.  The dog had come into his yard and his two young sons (three and five) were playing with it.  Things got out of hand and soon the dog had his three-year-old on the ground, pinning him down in what seemed a threatening manner.

Spotting this, our friend rushed to the scene and kicked the dog away, yelling an obscenity or two.  Don't worry, the child was fine, and for that matter, so was the dog.  The children started crying, however, more upset at their father's scary outburst than any canine threat.

After he told this story, we would discover that each of us listeners had honed in on a different detail:

One of us was worried about the three-year-old (granted, we all cared, but we already knew the child was unharmed).

One of us wanted to scold people who let their dogs run loose.

One of us was shocked that our friend kicked a dog.

One of us was surprised that he swore in front of his little kids.

Me, I wondered what his wife had to say when she heard about all this.

What becomes evident in even the telling of a simple anecdote, is that each of us puts our own spin on things we hear.  Coming from different backgrounds and having agendas that are uniquely individual, we interpret things according to our personal filter.

Part of the fun of seeing movies with friends is that we all come away with different perspectives to share.  One may point out ironic parallels in the arc of a secondary character, while another may focus on foreshadowing that the rest of us missed.

Basically, each of us will always hear what speaks to us.  Likewise, our readers will be selective in what they take away from our writing.  As communicators with a story or message to convey, we stand the best chance of reaching everyone on their level by presenting our ideas and scenes with enough clarity that they discourage misinterpretation. 

Welcome — even celebrate — the many and varied trains of thought your words are likely to trigger.  As long as your main points hit the bull's eye, that's as good as any communicator can ask for.

What Drives a Story Forward?

On the cover of our November/December issue, you will find best-selling author Steven James, who is a master at storytelling.  In our feature article, Steven was most gracious in sharing his experience and expertise with our readers. Steven has also written this article below, which is so full of valuable advice that we wanted to run it today in Suite T.  —Susan Reichert, Editor, Southern Writers Magazine. 

What Drives a Story Forward?

by Steven James

 

Over the years as I’ve taught at writers conferences throughout North America and abroad, I’ve found that too many people think of stories as a series of things that happen. But stories are much more than that.

At its heart, a story is about tension, and tension is created by unfulfilled desire. So the secret to writing a story that draws readers in and keeps them turning pages is to create more and more tension, not to make more and more things happen.

So plotting stories is not a process of asking what should happen next, but what would tighten the tension.

This shift in perspective will forever change how you shape and tell the stories that you write, whatever the genre.

Romance stories are not about romance, they are about romantic tension. As soon as the actual romance happens, it is the end of the story.

Action stories are not about action, they are about resolving problems. Once the conflict is resolved, the story is over. One exciting event happening after another does not make an intriguing action story. In fact, it gets boring unless the reader can see what is at stake, unless he can understand and identify with the unfulfilled desire of the main character.

Thrillers are not stories about scary things happening, they are about the promise of pain. Suspense happens between the promise of something dreadful happening and the actual event itself. So when writing suspense, the key is to include less action and more promises.

And then, as the story rises in escalation, to keep all the promises you’ve made.

So all of this means that as you write a story you’ll both save time and write better stories if you stop asking yourself, “What should happen?” and start asking, “How can I make things worse?” It also means that stories, at their essence, are neither character-driven nor plot-driven. All stories are tension-driven.

For example, you can write a fascinating description of a character or have thirty chase scenes in your novel, but after a while readers will grow tired of hearing about what the character is thinking or eating or wearing or doing if we do not know what their unfulfilled desire is. And we will get bored of seeing car chases unless we know what the people chasing (or being chased) want.

Readers need to know what the character wants.

Readers need to know where the action is leading.

So, stop asking yourself what should happen and focus instead on tightening the tension—on making things worse. Always come back to the unmet desire of the characters and you will create the tension that you need to drive your story forward and keep your readers coming back for more.

________________________________________________

Steven James is the critically acclaimed, bestselling author of more than thirty books including the award-winning thrillers The Rook, The Bishop and The Queen. His latest book, Placebo, introduces a new series, The Jevin Banks Experience.

Steven earned a Master's Degree in Storytelling from ETSU in 1997 and is an active member of International Thriller Writers, The Authors Guild, Mystery Writers of America, and International Association of Crime Writers.

To Tell the Truth

by Bob Strother

“… and to know a truth, I also had to recognize a lie.”

                                 —Eudora Welty

“He lies for a living.”

                                —Doonesbury cartoon character, speaking of another character, a novelist.

I was sitting in a Denny’s on the return leg of a trip to Flagstaff, Arizona, when a song from the fifties came over the restaurant’s speaker system, evoking some memory from my youth. As I recounted the story for my wife, she looked at me with her big baby blues and said, “You really ought to write some of that stuff down. You sound like you grew up in a Neil Simon play.” And, thus, began my career in writing.

I had plenty of material to work with. The product of a broken home, I had four half-brothers, one half-sister, two step-sisters, and one kid who was my father’s second wife’s son from her first marriage. Figure that one out. I also had, and spent a great deal of time with, two sets of wonderful grandparents (one of which revered Franklin Delano Roosevelt, God, Elvis Presley, and rock and roll, in that order), an irascible great grandmother (good German stock), a mean-as-a-snake great grandfather (also German, but from a different gene pool), an aging maiden aunt, and a hypochondriac great uncle. What aspiring writer couldn’t take that bowl of mixed nuts and come up with a great manuscript?

Naturally, my first attempts at creative writing involved capturing the captivating nuances of my childhood for later generations. I had always said that the only thing missing from my life was background music, so I titled my Great American Memoir Southern Soundtrack and began writing in earnest. Fortunately, I also joined the South Carolina Writers’ Workshop about the same time and started attending a critique group regularly while I set about learning the craft.

There I began to realize that my stories, while entertaining and amusing for my family members, might not have quite the same appeal to a mass audience. After listening to a particular recollection from my youth, one critique partner suggested a changing the outcome. My remark at the time (and one I’ve heard numerous times since then from other newbie writers) was, “But that’s not the way it happened.” She gave me a knowing half-smile and left me with a simple pronouncement I’ve never forgotten: “You could always try fiction. That way, you don’t always have to tell the truth.”

In the six or seven years since, I’ve employed that principle religiously, penning over eighty short stories and four novels. Doing so has provided me the license to right past wrongs, deliver clever comebacks I would never have conjured up on the spur of the moment, and, in some cases, exact sweet revenge. Today, while I am often inspired by events in my past, I am no longer restrained by the reality of them. That old memoir is still around somewhere, snugged into an old file cabinet. It’s the truth, and it’s warm and fuzzy, but not as exciting as fiction. The truth may set you free, but a good imagination (and the ability to conjure up nicely packaged and plausible lies) can give you wings.

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Pushcart Prize nominee Bob Strother was featured in the November-December issue of Southern Writers Magazine, and was recently awarded  the Hub City Writers/Emrys Foundation 2012 Fiction Prize. His short story collection, Scattered, Smothered, and Covered was released in February, 2011 through Main Street Rag Publishing Company. www.bobstrother.net