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On Writing, Plot & Structure

Story Structure: The Second Turning Point

September 19, 2012

After the series of new disasters the hero experience in Part 2b of Act 2 (see previous post), we come to the Second Turning Point.

This is also known as the death experience

The second turning point also is a disaster; in a dramatic reversal, the hero is yet again frustrated in achieving his goal.

But this disaster is mega.

Here’s a good way to brainstorm your second turning point: Ask yourself “what’s the worst thing that can happen to my hero?” Then make that happen.

At the second turning point, one or all of the following should hold true:

  • The hero feels he has lost everything he set out to gain.
  • The hero has run out of options/appears to have exhausted his last option.
  • Discovers that the new information he received at the story’s midpoint (see  previous post on the Midpoint Shift) has led to dead end.
  • His goal no longer seems attainable to him. (The reader may know how the hero can attain the goal – but hero doesn’t see how at this point.)
  • Hero is weak, shattered, discouraged, beaten down; antagonist is going strong, appears to have victory within his/her grasp.

 

The second turning point ends Act 2b of your novel (the middle of your novel), and launches Act 3 (your novel’s resolution).

Examples of the second turning point:

  • In Bridget Jones’s Diary, Bridget starts to like Mr. Right (Mark Darcy), but after he fights with Mr. Wrong (Daniel Cleaver), she rejects Mark as she misinterprets the reason for the fight. (She’s still after Mr. Right but now no longer is open to seeing Mark Darcy as Mr. Right.)
  • In The Fellowship of the  Ring, the hero Frodo is wounded by a dark force (stabbed by a Nazgul), and his death appears imminent.
  • In Jaws, one of the men seeking the shark with the hero (Chief Brody) destroys the radio with a baseball bat, revealing his madness and ensuring that the crew’s encounter with the killer shark will be a do or die venture.
  • In The Fugitive, the hero discovers that the man he believes guilty of his wife’s murder is innocent, apparently leaving him once again at square one in his quest to clear himself of suspicion.

Create your second turning point, and you’re in your novel’s home stretch – for a novel of average length, that means  just 10 or 15 or so scenes to go.

Happy writing!

 

On Writing, Plot & Structure

Part 2 of Your Story’s Middle: More Frustration

September 18, 2012

You will recall that we divided a novel’s story into four parts: Act 1, Act 2a, Act 2b, and Act 3.

An average novel is comprised of 60 scenes. Acts 2a and 2b are the largest section of your novel, the middle. Your novel’s middle will account for around 40 to 45 of the scenes you write.

Act 2 is divided into two parts (a and b) because, in a well-constructed story, the middle of Act 2 is split by the Midpoint Shift (see previous post).

After  the Midpoint Shift, your hero finds himself in Part 2 of Act 2 (or Act 2b).

In Act 2b, the hero endures more disasters. Remember, story tension depends upon the hero’s continuing frustration in achieving his story goal.

But the difference between prior disasters and frustrations, and those the hero encounters in Act 2b is this: now each disaster is the result of an action the hero takes to resolve the conflict between himself and the antagonist sparked by the new information or insights obtained in the Midpoint Shift.

Examples:

  • In Jaws, Chief Brody hires a sharkhunter, Quint, and – together with the oceanographer, Hooper – sets out on a boat to kill the shark.
  • In Bridget Jones’s Diary, Bridget tries to get a new job.
  • In The Fugitive, Richard Kimble actively investigates the mystery of who killed his wife .

 

The challenge for the writer in Act 2b is to maintain story freshness and suspense. The Midpoint Shift should have revitalized your story, sending it off in a new and fascinating direction. Suspense arises as the stakes get ever higher for the heroine, and frustrations continue to mount. Reader interest also is maintained by the hero’s display of resourcefulness.

Can the hero/heroine enjoy a minor success here and there? Yes – but he/she cannot attain his key goal, and if the minor success turns out to be the opposite of a “blessing in disguise,” it is sad for the character, but adds to the impact of your story. Remember the scene in the Hunger Games, when the heroine Katniss defeats her adversaries temporarily by releasing a horde of tracker jackers (hornets on steroids) on them? Katniss succeeds temporarily in achieving safety, but the tracker jackers also sting her, causing her to grow groggy – and vulnerable again.

A resourceful hero, a tough adversary, and the hero’s unrelenting frustration in attaining the key goal – these are the elements for a successful Act 2b.

Happy Writing!

 

On Writing, Plot & Structure

Shake Up Your Story: the Midpoint Shift

September 17, 2012

The next time you watch a movie on a Roku-type player (a player that displays minutes played and minutes remaining), do this:

After you’ve watched the entire movie, rewind to the exact middle of the movie. For example, if you’ve watched a 90-minute movie, rewind to the 45-minute point.

You’ll discover something that illustrates an important insight into creating a well-plotted novel or screenplay. What you’ll discover is a simple (but not always easy) technique that  masterful writers employ to avoid saggy middles, the bane of many novels/screenplays. It’s called the Midpoint Shift.

Here’s how:

In a well-constructed story, the hero – up to the midpoint of the story – has met continuous resistance. One thing after another has blocked him from achieving his goal.

As he reaches the middle of his story, he will continue to be frustrated. However, something big and dramatic happens at this point in the story – the Midpoint Shift.  This Something infuses the hero with fresh hope and resolution. It points him direction of resolving his conflict.

A Midpoint Shift can be:

  • a reversal of fortune (good or bad)
  • a revelation (a secret revealed)
  • an epiphany (event causes hero to gain insight)
  • new information  (new developments, or hidden information brought to light)

 

The Midpoint Shift usually turns the story around at at 45-degree, if not a 180-degree, angle. The hero was traveling from Point A to Point B. Now he aims for Point C or D.

Examples:

  • The Midpoint Shift in Jaws occurs when Chief Brody’s son is almost attacked by the Shark. The event is an epiphany, literally bringing home to Chief Brody the need to protect the people of Amity Island. He will no longer let the Mayor bully him into ignoring his duty. (epiphany)
  • In The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, Frodo risks his life to get the ring of power to a place he believes can contain its evil influence – Rivendell. At the Midpoint Shift, he learns that Rivendell cannot safely harbor the ring, and that he will need to take it on an even more perilous journey to Mordor. (new information)
  • In Bridget Jones’s Diary, Bridget discovers that her boss and romantic interest Daniel is cheating on her and, as a result, quits her job and resolves to reinvent herself. (revelation)
  • In The Fugitive, Richard Kimble infiltrates a hospital’s records room and finds a vital clue to the identity of his wife’s murder. (new information)

 

A well-thought-out Midpoint Shift shakes up the snow globe of the story, and in doing so it advances the narrative, refocuses a viewer’s/reader’s interest, heightens suspense, and – importantly – keeps readers turning pages.

 

 

On Writing, Plot & Structure

What Happens Next? (The Midsection of Your Novel) – Part 2

September 4, 2012
As mentioned in our previous post on “What Happens Next,” the middle part of your novel (your “Act 2”) is split into two parts.We’re calling these Act 2-A and Act 2-B.In Act 2-A, the Hero faces searing challenges. He needs to tap into his resources. He struggles mightily.In Peter Benchley’s novel, Jaws, this is the place in the story where Police Chief Brody finds it impossible to get the Mayor to close a community beach infested by a man-eating shark.In Tolkien’s Fellowship of the Ring, it’s where Frodo and his Hobbit friends are  on the run from Sauron’s forces.

In Helen Fielding’s Bridget Jones’s Diary, it’s where Bridget finds the wrong Mr. Right–her boss Daniel Cleaver–and gets off on the wrong foot with the right Mr. Right (Mark Darcy).

You get the idea.

Benchley, Tolkien, and Fielding were downright cruel to their fictional creations. The thing the hero/heroine wanted, in each case, was out of reach throughout Act 2-A. His/her efforts were thwarted at every turn.

But the Hero’s frustration made for gripping reading. It kept us turning pages. It created a great Story.

Good authors are not very kind to their heroes. Theymake sure–for the sake of Story–that their heroes struggle mightily against great odds. And that brings us to something called . . . the Midpoint Shift.

Check out the next post on writing for more about the Midpoint Shift.

 

On Writing, Plot & Structure

What Happens Next? (The Midsection of Your Novel)

August 18, 2012

In our last blog post on How to Write a Pageturner Novel– “How the ‘Okay, I’m in’ Scene Advances Your Novel” –we discussed how to wrap up the introductory chapters of your novel most effectively.

That brings us to the Midsection of your novel. In a screenplay, this would be called Act 2. For our purposes, we can call it Act 2-A because–as you’ll see–the Midsection of a well-constructed novel (or screenplay) is divided into two distinct sections.

In the first half of the Midsection, your hero struggles to reach his goal. But his efforts lead only to frustration.

Odysseus’s ship battles two monsters–Scylla and Charibdes

Think about Odysseus, the prototypical novelistic hero. His goal was to return home but he was frustrated at every turn–by shipwreck, the failings of his companions, monsters, a lovelorn nymph, and cannibals on the warpath. Whew! (It was the Raiders of the Lost Ark of its day.)

All of this frustration, this effort against overwhelming odds, creates tension. These Act 2-A plot complications–with the hero needing to resourcefully deal with all manner of opposition–mean a huge amount of stress for the  character – and that’s great for story.

This is why it’s helpful to develop an author persona that is comfortable with being unkind to your hero. “Nice guy” authors often want to let their literary creations enjoy only mild opposing forces.  In real life, it’s great to be kind: you’re the kind of friend I want! Seated in the writer’s chair, let your characters struggle!

Why?  Because it’s unfair to your readers to give your characters a life on Easy Street. Happy characters facing only the mildest of challenges make for a boring reading experience. By the same token, it’s also unfair to your splendid fictional creations–because you don’t let them flex all of their resourceful muscles.

As your reader works through Act 2-A, he will–identifying with the hero–constantly hope the hero’s plan to resolve his challenges works. But the hero’s plan cannot work in the Midsection–at least, it cannot work for very long, or flawlessly. That’s because, once it works in a way that resolves the hero’s main concern, the story tension is dissipated, and the reader will have no compelling reason to read further.

That’s why authors who are too kind to their heroes do readers a disservice.

Your reader wants to lose himself/herself vicariously in the hero’s struggle, and to grow with the hero as he learns what it takes to win on the hard road to victory–a victory that will be all the sweeter if hard won. Don’t deprive your reader of this delightful journey by providing shortcuts that bypass “insightful moments” and “realizations of how to be resourceful”–those surprise and delight moments that make a book buzz-able!

Next post on writing:  how the above works in some famous novels.

Happy Writing!

 

On Writing, Thoughts on Writing

Inviting the ‘Muse’: Some Practical Considerations

July 4, 2012

What can a writer can do to make the most of the time he or she finds to actually write?

The answers to that question are as various as are writers themselves.

Here are some of the things I’ve found work for me:

  • Structure/Planning – Having written both as a “pantser” (a writer who chiefly depends on inspiration) and as a “plotter” (a writer who pre-plans story and structure), I’ve found that both ways work, but that pre-planning saves a lot of wheel spinning. Interestingly, plotting also helps counter writer’s block. If you create a one-sentence summary, a one-page summary, a beat sheet, etc. – see previous posts – you’ve created a map with a path marked out on it for yourself. When you’re done with one scene, you don’t need to pause and think a bit about what to do next; you pick up your beat sheet and know what to write next.
  • A quiet place – Optimally, a writer should have a room with a door he or she can close. Personally, I’m not one of those extraordinary writers who do their best work surrounded by distractions. Soft background music (see below) is about the only “noise” that I find conducive to writing. The Sennheiser headphones, at right, also are a real lifesaver. My hubby loves movies and watches more of them than the law should allow. With these wireless headphones, he gets better audio than he would without. More spectacularly, our home resounds with the sounds of silence for little ol’ writer person – me! If you want to sell your co-habitor on the virtues of these headphones, let them know that they also can hear the baseball game or their favorite news pundit while mowing the lawn or doing other errands in a certain radius outside the house.
  • Support/understanding/respect – Family and friends need to respect a writer’s time. When you close the door to your writing place (room or office), they should not barge in and interrupt your train of thought. Some of my writer friends find that their wise counsel, apparently, is needed on a multitudinous variety of subjects. Even “Do Not Disturb” signs don’t work. In this case, a writer may need to rent a small office (if lucky enough to have the funds to do so), or may need to make a quiet carrel at the nearest library serve that purpose.
  • Background music – Some writers like to listen to the sound tracks from suspense movies when composing suspense novels. I’ve heard that Stephen King composed his novels to acid rock. Personally, I know acid rock would never work for me. I’m not a fan of same, and I know I would find strident music and lyrics distracting. Classical music also doesn’t work for me, as it seems to demand too much of my attention. However, for me, New Age music – especially Pandora’s New Age Internet radio station  – is conducive to creative thinking.
  • Guilt – I’d like to say, “setting aside certain hours each day to write.” But I don’t like to abide by a rigid schedule. I’m more likely to find two, three or six hours sometime each day to write. It might be mornings or afternoons or evenings, depending on what else is happening in my life. What does compel me to make time to write each day is a feeling. Call it “guilt” or “discomfort,” or what you will. All I know is that, if I don’t work on my writing for a significant chunk of my day, that feeling kicks in – a sense that I’m not doing what I’m supposed to be doing – that I’m not utilizing the precious gifts I’ve been fortunate enough to receive. Therefore, I make sure to set aside the necessary time as I move through my day.

 

Well, that’s what works for me. What do you find works for you? Please feel free to share your ideas in the comments section.

Happy Writing!

Image (top): SearchEnginePeopleBlog via Flickr

On Writing, Thoughts on Writing

Writer’s Block, Flow, and Some Views on ‘the Muse’

July 3, 2012

Writer & His Muse

“O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention ….” – Wm. Shakespeare, Henry V, Prologue

“Sing through me, Muse, and let me tell the story of that wily man, the wanderer, who endured an age of troubles, after he ravaged Troy’s proud heights.” – Homer’s Invocation to the Muse, The Iliad

“… Whatever kind and sort of book this is, O Muse, let it live for longer than this generation – in fact, eternally.” – Catullus, Carmen

“Muse” – from the Ancient Greek: Μοῦσαι, moũsai: possibly from a proto Indo-European a root word meaning “think”). In Greek mythology, the Muses are the goddesses of inspiration in literature, art, and science, and were considered the source of knowledge and the arts conveyed orally prior to the invention of writing, including lyrics and myths.

Most writers are familiar with the concept of writer’s block – the experience in which a writer finds creative writing difficult or impossible to do. Fewer writers are perhaps familiar with the concept of the Muse as it relates to writer’s block.

As noted above, the concept of the Muse dates back to ancient times. In Greek mythology, there were nine Muses. Each specialized in a branch of the arts – from tragedy to comedy, from history to epic. Back in Homer’s day, it seems, a writer or a poet with “writer’s block” would have felt his Muse had abandoned him.  I am sure that, like blocked writers today, the Muse-less writer would fritter away his time catching up on the latest news and trivia (in the market square – the Google of its day), drowning his sorrows at the local watering hole, or finding a fellow poet/writer and keeping him from working on his latest. (“If I can’t go to my happy place, no one goes to his/her happy place.”)

But let us set aside the ancient concept of the Muse, and pick up a 20th century concept that has much currency today: that of Flow, the mental state “in which,” per the Wikipedia definition, “a person in an activity is fully immersed in a feeling of energized focus, full involvement, and success in the process of the activity.”

Flow, clearly, is the opposite of writer’s block. It is the desired state of operation for writers – you sit down at your keyboard and the words and ideas tumble out blissfully and with polished perfection. Ah, flow!

Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, the researcher who originated the concept of flow, reported that several of the subjects he studied reported that “flow” was like being carried along on water. The idea, in other words, finds you – not vice versa; you are just the conduit. Before Csikszentmihalyi, we used the word “inspiration” to describe this phenomenon.

Here’s what’s useful for writers: Csikszentmihalyi determined that you can create conditions that are conducive to “flow.” Here’s how:

  • Set about a task that has direction and structure; have an activity with a clear set of goals.
  • Have the inner confidence that you have what it takes to meet the challenges of the goals you have set for yourself with this task.
  • Get “clear and immediate” feedback as you work as this enables you to maintain the flow state.

Admittedly, the first two “conducives” are less challenging for writers than the third. (Self-editing, as you go along, needs to be done with a light touch. That’s what second, third and sixth drafts are for.)

Still, Csíkszentmihályi’s insights are useful. At left is a graph he created which illustrates his theories about flow in terms of “challenges set” and “skills mastered.”

Now, with all of the above said, here are my views on the Muse/flow – what I’ve found helpful when bumping up against writer’s block:

Getting the Muse (Flow or Inspiration) to come to you is a bit like being out in the wild woods and hoping a fawn or a deer will approach you. If you sit there anxiously, it’s not gonna happen.

But if you relax and tune in to the stillness and the rhythms of the forest, you change within; you are no longer an intruder – you are part of the scene. The animals sense it; they approach.

Personally, I’ve found that the first five or ten minutes in the “woods” of writing is the most difficult – painful even – but that, if I just start, and then perservere, the wave of flow does come along to carry me into the creative work. (Yes, some days the “wave” is stronger than on others, but it is reliably there.)

Following are two quotes often invoked when starting creative endeavors. Read them with the Muse/flow in mind, and they make all the sense in the world:

“Whatever you do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius and power and magic in it.” – Goethe

“Leap… and the net will appear.” – Zen saying

 

Happy Writing!

Image: Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres. Luigi Cherubini and the Muse of Lyric Poetry. 1842

 

On Writing, Plot & Structure

How the ‘Okay, I’m In’ Scene Advances Your Story

June 22, 2012

Continuing our discussion of what you need to accomplish in Section 1 of your novel:

Here’s what you achieve with your “Okay, I’m in” Scene (also known as Plot Point One, or, the Scene in which the Hero squares off against the Antagonist).

The “Okay, I’m in” Scene accomplishes the following for your Story:

  • Changes the Hero’s life in an interesting/compelling way that demands reader attention.
  • Hero decisively takes first significant action to confront the Antagonist. (Examples: In Star Wars, Luke find his family killed; he joins the rebels. In Bridget Jones’s Diary, Bridget has a terrible day and decides to turn her life around – to stop smoking and drinking, to find Mr. Right, and to start a diary that will, hopefully, record her success.
  • Escalates the Conflict in a way that turns the story in new and unexpected direction and raises the stakes for the hero.

 

So by the end of the “Okay, I’m in” Scene, the Hero is poised to take off. He isn’t about to sit on the sidelines any longer. He has to make a choice. He makes that choice. He’s going to take action.

The outcome, of course, is uncertain. The odds are not in his favor, by any means. If you have successfully constructed the “Okay, I’m in” Scene and the other key components of Section 1 of your novel, your readers will be compelled to keep on reading in order to find out what happens to the Hero in the next major segment of your Story: Section 2.

Happy Writing!

 

 

On Writing, Plot & Structure, Thoughts on Writing

What Novelists Need to Know about ‘Plotting’ Versus ‘Pantsing’

June 20, 2012

At left is a triptych I painted yesterday in a class in Beginning Watercolors. I am not posting this art work to “show it off” (although I am proud of it as a first effort). I’m posting it because it illustrates a point I’d like to make about Plotting versus Pantsing.

If you have attended writers conferences those terms – plotting and pantsing – will be familiar to you. If not, here’s what they mean: writers who plot their novels carefully and then begin writing are called Plotters; writers who “just sit down and write” are called Pantsers (because they are writing “by the seat of their pants” – i.e., “by feel or instinct, without formal guidelines“).

If you’ve read my earlier post on the role of inspiration in writing, you’ll recognize that Pantsers better fulfill the romantic vision of how a writer works. And Pantsing is a perfectly acceptable way to write.

But there is one great drawback to Pantsing: it’s inefficient.

It’s very easy for a writer to write herself into a corner when Pantsing. At some point, several Scenes or Chapters in, she reads what she’s written so far and realizes the Story is not working. And more often than not, the Story is not working because  the Structure is faulty – resulting in a lack of Story tension and pacing, faulty Story logic, etc. That means lots of wasted effort and lots of rewriting – until the Story “feels” right.

Again, it’s fine to work this way. But it’s much more efficient to be a Plotter. (See previous posts on Step One, Two, Three, etc.)

Nor does being a Plotter mean that you eschew Inspiration – and that exhilirating feeling of entering a story world that takes on a life of its own. I’ve found that, once I start writing, even following my beat sheet outline, the Story and the Characters constantly surprise me. But I also find that, having the Beat Sheet to work from, speeds my trajectory to the completion of that all-important solid first draft.

So where do my watercolors fit in? Well, I knew a little bit about watercoloring before I took the class in which I painted the triptych. But I never would have known how to produce the paintings above. In that first 3-hour class, the instructor made that possible by showing us the techniques involved: how to paint a wash; how to use a flat brush, a round brush, a rigging brush, and a palette knife to get certain effects; how to paint wet on wet, wet on dry, and dry on dry; how to blend color; how to create tree and boulder and sunset effects; and, for the large painting, how to sketch tree trunks.

We then sketched and painted original compositions. I know I never would have painted three (to me, pleasing) drawings in three hours without this knowledge of technique. Like Plotting, technique in watercolor not only speeds up creativity, it allows you to create effects you might otherwise never be able to achieve.

Happy Writing!

 

On Writing, Plot & Structure

Bodacious Beginnings: the All-Important ‘Okay, I’m In’ Scene

June 19, 2012

In Section 1 of your Novel (its opening Scenes), you:

  • Establish the world of the Novel (show the Hero’s “normal” world).
  • Introduce the “What Starts It All” (Hero bumps up against a problem caused by an antagonistic force).

 

Generally, the Hero does not immediately start struggling against the antagonistic force (trying to resolve the Key Problem he faces). He will usually, in fact, resist taking action, drag his feet, find reasons not to “go for it.”

This delay serves several purposes:

  • It allows the reader to learn more about the problem and to absorb its significance.
  • It allows the reader to develop empathy for the Hero.
  • It mirrors the real world. How many of us welcome trouble with open arms? No. Our natural reaction is often to find a way to avoid clashing with antagonistic forces.
  • The Hero’s delay highlights the drama of the moment when he finally makes the decision to enter the fray.

 

Then, in the final Scene in Section 1 of your Novel, the hero will confront a surprising development that turns his life upside down in some way and forces him to decide, “Okay, I’m in.” His “Okay, I’m In” decision will take him and the reader on a new and unexpected path.

In screenwriting, this is also known as Plot Point 1, or Turning Point One.

The “Okay, I’m In” moment is a direct result of the “What Starts It All” event.

In J.D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye, the “What Starts It All” event occurs when the Hero, Holden Caulfield, gets expelled from his boarding school due to his failing grades.  The “Okay, I’m In” moment is when Holden – disgraced and distressed – decides to run away from school and spend a few days on his own in New York City.

The antagonistic forces in Salinger’s novel, are society’s expectations of Holden coupled with the emotional problems he has been experiencing since his younger brother’s death, problems which have left him increasingly incapable of handling his everyday responsibilities. Holden goal in fleeing to New York is to get some R&R, which he hopes will restore his sense of balance and his ability to cope.

Note: Just to complicate things: yes, it is possible to begin a novel with the “Okay, I’m In” Scene. When that happens, the novelist restructures Section 1, filling in the “What Starts It All”  and establishing what was the Hero’s normal world in the Scenes that follow the Big Bang opening Scene.

However, there is a real risk in rewiring the Section 1 story this way: place the “Okay, I’m In” Scene first thing, and you may fail to establish the reader’s empathy for your Hero. You want your reader to care about your Hero; it is quite a challenge for a writer to make those careful word choices and Scene set ups that enable a reader to care for a Character he or she hardly knows.

Happy Writing!

 

About

Jessica Hatchigan has taught writing at Wayne State University in Detroit and at workshops and seminars across the U.S.