Write Great Fiction--Plot & Structure Read online

  Write Great Fiction

  Plot and Structure

  Techniques and exercises for crafting a plot that grips readers from start to finish

  James Scott Bell

  Cincinnati, Ohio

  www.writersdigest.com

  Dedication

  To my wife, Cindy, who is my inspiration, editor-in-chief, and best friend. Thanks for helping make my dreams come true.

  And to my children, Nate and Allegra, who make me proud.

  Acknowledgments

  I must thank all of the generous and thoughtful writers who have given us, in books and articles, their collective wisdom on the art of fiction. When I finally figured out that the craft was something that could be taught, I dove into a massive reading program and found a body of advice that gave me hope I could someday learn to write.

  While I can’t possibly thank all of those who have helped me, I want to give credit to at least the following books that I continue to turn to:

  Bickham, Jack, Writing and Selling Your Novel

  Bishop, Leonard, Dare to be a Great Writer

  Block, Lawrence, Writing the Novel

  Browne, Renni & King, Dave, Self-Editing for Fiction Writers

  Bradbury, Ray, Zen in the Art of Writing

  Cleaver, Jerry, Immediate Fiction

  Conrad, Barnaby, Complete Guide to Writing Fiction

  Egri, Lajos, The Art of Creative Writing

  Frey, James N., How to Write a Damn Good Novel I & II

  Hall, Oakley, The Art & Craft of Novel Writing

  Kernen, Robert, Building Better Plots

  King, Stephen, On Writing

  Koontz, Dean, How to Write Best-Selling Fiction

  Maass, Donald, Writing the Breakout Novel

  Morrell, David, Lessons From a Lifetime of Writing

  Stein, Sol, Stein on Writing

  Swain, Dwight, Techniques of the Selling Writer

  Whitney, Phyllis, Guide to Fiction Writing

  Thanks also to some writer friends who looked at early portions of this work: Angela Hunt, Randall Ingermanson, and Janelle Schneider. And special thanks to my editor on this project, Kelly Nickell, and to all the folks I work with at Writer’s Digest magazine, who know that writing can be taught and prove it every day.

  Contents

  Introduction

  Putting the Big Lie to Sleep

  Chapter One

  What’s a Plot, Anyway?

  Chapter Two

  Structure: What Holds Your Plot Together

  Chapter Three

  How to Explode With Plot Ideas

  Chapter Four

  Beginning Strong

  Chapter Five

  Middles

  Chapter Six

  Endings

  Chapter Seven

  Scenes

  Chapter Eight

  Complex Plots

  Chapter Nine

  The Character Arc in Plot

  Chapter Ten

  Plotting Systems

  Chapter Eleven

  Revising Your Plot

  Chapter Twelve

  Plot Patterns

  Chapter Thirteen

  Common Plot Problems and Cures

  Chapter Fourteen

  Tips and Tools for Plot and Structure

  Appendix A

  Checklist: Critical Points

  Appendix B

  Creating Your Own Back Cover Copy

  About the Author

  Copyright Page

  Introduction

  Putting the Big Lie to Sleep

  I wasted ten years of prime writing life because of the Big Lie.

  In my twenties, I gave up the dream of becoming a writer because I had been told that writing could not be taught. Writers are born, people said. You either have what it takes or you don’t, and if you don’t you’ll never get it.

  My first writing efforts didn’t have it. I thought I was doomed. Outside of my high school English teacher, Mrs. Marjorie Bruce, I didn’t get any encouragement at all.

  In college, I took a writing course taught by Raymond Carver. I looked at the stuff he wrote; I looked at my stuff.

  It wasn’t the same.

  Because writing can’t be taught.

  I started to believe it. I figured I didn’t have it and never would.

  So I did other stuff. Like go to law school. Like join a law firm. Like give up my dream.

  But the itch to write would not go away.

  At age thirty-four, I read an interview with a lawyer who’d had a novel published. And what he said hit me in my lengthy briefs. He said he’d had an accident and was almost killed. In the hospital, given a second chance at life, he decided the one thing he wanted was to be a writer. And he would write and write, even if he never got published because that was what he wanted.

  Well, I wanted it, too.

  But the Big Lie was still there, hovering around my brain, mocking me.

  Especially when I began to study the craft of writing.

  I went out and bought my first book on fiction writing. It was Lawrence Block’s Writing the Novel. I also bought Syd Field’s book on screenwriting because anyone living in Los Angeles who has opposable thumbs is required to write a screenplay.

  And I discovered the most incredible thing. The Big Lie was a lie. A person could learn how to write because I was learning.

  HOW I BECAME A HAPPY PLOTTER

  While in the throes of the Big Lie, the most frustrating thing to me was Plot. Because what I wrote didn’t have it.

  I would read short stories and novels, and wonder how the writers did it. How did they get all this great story material? The Big Lie said they had it in their heads, naturally, and it just flowed out on the page as they went along.

  I tried it. I tried to let plot flow. But what came out on the page was dreadful. No plot! No story! Zip!

  But when I began to learn about the craft, I saw that plotting had elements I could learn. And I found out about structure: when plot elements were put in a certain order, a stronger story resulted.

  I can still remember the day it came together for me. It was an epiphany. All of a sudden, something clicked in my head. The pieces started to fit. The Jell-O hardened.

  About a year later, I had a screenplay optioned. Then another.

  Then I wrote a novel. It was published.

  Then I got a five-book fiction contract. I wrote those books, and they were published, too.

  Suddenly, I took a deep breath and looked behind me. Somehow, some way, I had learned how to write after all.

  The Big Lie was exposed.

  I was so ticked off about the Big Lie that I started teaching others what I’d learned about the craft of writing. I wanted new writers to know that they weren’t doomed to stay where they were. They could learn craft, as I did. I never taught fancy theory, just nuts and bolts. Things that worked for me, that new writers could understand and use right now.

  And then a funny thing happened. Some of my students started selling their books.

  I still find this the most satisfying part of the whole deal.

  And this is what I hope you will learn. Let’s replace the Big Lie with the Truth. The Truth is that craft can be taught and that you, with diligence and practice and patience, can improve your writing. This is one book that’s going to be as practical on that score as I can make it.

  WHAT IT TAKES TO LEARN PLOT

  My high school basketball coach was a strict disciplinarian. If it had been up to me, I would have spent my practice time shooting jump shots. But Coach made us do fundamental drills — dribbling, passing, cutting, setting picks. And, of course, the dreaded wind spr
ints when we messed up.

  We all hated the drudgery, but come game time, we knew we were better players for it. And all of his teams overachieved.

  If you want to break through with this thing called craft, you’ll need to be your own disciplinarian. Here are some things you can do to become your own plotting coach. Tweak them to fit your preferences, but use them. You’ll like the results.

  Otherwise, I may have to make you do wind sprints.

  [1] Get motivated. I remember the exact date I decided I was going to be a writer. I jotted this in my journal: “Today I resolve to take writing seriously, to keep going and never stop, to learn everything I can and make it as a writer.”

  Remember, this was after I was steeped in the Big Lie. So what I wrote was a declaration of independence of sorts.

  Why don’t you do the same? Write a statement of purpose, one that gets you excited, and print it. Put it on your wall where you can see it every day.

  The next thing I did was buy a black coffee mug with Writer written in gold across it. I would look at that cup every day to remind me of my commitment. In fact, on days when the writing drags, I’ll look at it again. It gives me a fresh jolt of enthusiasm.

  Come up with your own item of visual motivation. It might be inspirational words taped to your computer, a photograph of an admired writer (on my wall I have a shot of Stephen King, feet up on his writing desk and dog under his chair, revising a manuscript), or your own rendering of your first novel’s cover (be lavish in the critical praise on the back!).

  I was also motivated early on by going to bookstores and browsing in the bestseller section. I’d look at the authors’ pictures and bios, I’d read their openings (and think I can do this!), and I’d imagine what my face would look like on the back of a dust jacket (nicely retouched, of course).

  Then — and this is crucial — I’d race back to my office and start writing.

  Find some ritual that gets your juices flowing, and don’t waste it. Turn it into words on the page.

  [2] Try stuff. Just reading a book on plotting is not going to make you a better writer. You have to try out what you learn, see if you get it, and try some more. You test the principles in the fire of the blank page.

  As you read this book, take time to digest and then apply what you learn about plot and structure to your own writing.

  I love books on writing. I have shelves full of them. I’ve read every one with a yellow highlighter. Then I’ve reread almost all of them with a red, felt-tip pen, marking things I missed the first time.

  Then I’ve gone through most of them a third time, writing out new insights on a yellow legal pad.

  Then I’ve taken my notes and typed them up.

  What I’m doing is digesting the material as deeply as I possibly can. I want it to be part of me. I want it there when I write my next novel.

  So please be on the lookout for new techniques in the craft of fiction writing, and try them out yourself. This is how you learn and grow.

  [3] Stay loose. Writing is never any good when it is done in the grip of anxiety. A tense brain freezes creativity. If you try to make writing too much of a military exercise, if you go at it with a clenched jaw and fevered brow, you’ll be working against yourself. The guidelines in this book will give you material to work with and techniques that can help you. Your job is to write, as Brenda Ueland puts it, “freely and rollickingly.”

  [4] “First get it written, then get it right.” I can’t remember who said them, but these are words of wisdom. Don’t spend too much time worrying and fretting and tinkering with your first draft. The guidelines in this book will help you not only in the planning of your plot and the writing of it, but most of all when you get to the revision stage. Your job with that first draft is to pour yourself onto the page. In Zen in the Art of Writing: Essays on Creativity, Ray Bradbury says, “Let the world burn through you. Throw the prism light, white hot, on paper.”

  [5] Set a quota. Writing is how you learn to write. Writing daily, as a discipline, is the best way to learn.

  Most successful fiction writers make a word goal and stick to it. A time goal can easily be squandered as you sit and agonize over sentences or paragraphs. Sure you were at your writing desk for three hours, but what did you produce? Write a certain number of words instead.

  I have a spreadsheet that logs my words. I record the number of words I write on my projects. The spreadsheet automatically tallies my daily and weekly production.

  I review this log each week. If I’m not making my quota, I give myself a talking to and get back on track.

  But be kind to yourself. If you don’t make your quota one day or one week, forget about it. Get to work on your new week.

  The daily writing of words, once it becomes a habit, will be the most fruitful discipline of your writing life. You’ll be amazed at how productive you’ll become, and how much you’ll learn about the craft.

  But if you’re one of those writers who thinks he needs inspiration to write, then I ask you to please follow the advice of Peter DeVries:“I only write when I’m inspired, and I make sure I’m inspired every morning at 9 a.m.”

  [6] Don’t give up. The main difference between successful writers and unsuccessful writers is persistence. There are legions of published novelists who went years and years without acceptance. They continued to write because that’s what they were inside, writers. That’s what you are. That’s why you’re reading this book. Whenever I hear from students I’ve taught at writers’ conferences, I always end my communication with them with two words: Keep writing.

  In the end, that’s the best advice there is.

  Are you ready now? Are you convinced of the Truth? Do you dream of writing novels with plots that keep readers up at night? Then come along. I’m going to do my very best to show you how.

  Chapter 1

  What’s a Plot, Anyway?

  plot / ’plät / n.:

  1. A small piece of ground, generally used for burying dead people, including writers.

  2. A plan, as for designing a building or novel.

  Plot happens.

  You might be one of those writers who likes to have the story all worked out in your mind before you write your novel. You preplan, plan, and revise the plan before writing. Maybe you have index cards all over your wall or you store your scenes in your computer.

  Or you might be one of those seat-of-the-pants writers who loves to plop down each day at the computer or over a pad of paper and just write, letting the story flow without planning, anxious to see what your wild writer’s mind comes up with.

  You could also be a ’tweener who does a bit of planning but still seeks some surprise and spontaneity in the daily output of words.

  No matter what kind of novelist you are, there’s one thing you will have when you’ve completed your manuscript — a plot.

  It might be a lousy plot, a disjointed plot, a mess, or a masterpiece. But the plot will be there, staring you in the face.

  The only question at that point will be, “Does it work?”

  By “work” I mean connect with readers. That’s the function of plot after all. The reading experience is supposed to transport people, move them through the power of story. Plot is the power grid that makes it happen.

  You may be one of those writers who doesn’t care if your novel connects with readers. You write what you want, the way you want it, and that’s that. Writing is its own reward. If someone happens to like it, fine. But you don’t want to be bothered with bourgeois concepts like plot.

  Fine. No one’s forcing you to connect with readers. But if you want readers, if you dream of writing novels that get published and sell, then you have to give plotting its due. Because that’s what agents, publishers, and readers think about when they open books. Consciously or not, they are asking questions:

  What’s this story about?

  Is anything happening?

  Why should I keep reading?

  Why should I care?<
br />
  These are all plot questions, and if you want to make it as a writer of novel-length fiction, you must learn how to answer them satisfactorily, wonderfully, surprisingly.

  That’s what this book is about.

  “What about character?” you might ask. “Can’t I just write about a fascinating character and see what happens?”

  Yes. The what happens is your plot. And, as with any plot, it can turn out flabby and incoherent even with great characters. This book will help you avoid that outcome.

  How about a stream-of-consciousness novel? One that’s all about the language, and can’t be limited by such mundane matters as plotting?

  It’s a stretch to call such a thing a novel. Fiction, yes. I’ll even accept experimental novel. It might be fascinating in its own right, but is it really a story? I suppose that’s an academic debate.

  But if you’re interested in selling your books, plot is something you need to wrestle with.

  And wrestling makes you stronger. Even if you ultimately decide, as a writer, that you want to forget about plotting conventions, the effort to understand them will serve you well. You’ll become a better novelist.

  VIEWS ON PLOT

  Some writers, critics, and other assorted literati sniff at plotting as a tool of craft. A synonym for plotting, in this mindset, is slumming, something decent people just don’t do.

  Author Jean Hanff Korelitz sums up this thinking. She wrote about her experience as a young editorial assistant in New York trying to be a novelist. She and her contemporaries were snobs about literary prose, she says, elevating wordsmithery above such mundane matters as telling a good story.

  But then Ms. Korelitz ended up writing a legal thriller, and discovered — gasp — that she liked it! Her mind was changed, as you’ll see below in this excerpt from “Story Love,” which appeared on Salon.com:

  When you get right down to it, there’s something uniquely satisfying in being gripped by a great plot, in begrudging whatever real-world obligations might prevent you from finding out what happens next. And it is especially satisfying to surrender to an author who is utterly in command of a thrilling and original story, an author capable of playing us like fish, of letting us get worried, then riled up, then complacent and then finally blowing us away when the final shocks are delivered.