Plot is what happens in a story, as in the series of events that create (hopefully) a pattern of progression leading to a conclusion in the story. To examine it further, let’s break it down to the basic building blocks of a story. A character has a problem. Obstacles get in the way of him/her addressing the problem. The major obstacle is presented by the antagonist, either consciously or unconsciously. The journey, the progression of steps the protagonist undertakes to address this problem is the plot. Usually, these steps take place in scenes (“scenes” are located actions, or actions that take place in specific, defined locations. These locations might be described thoroughly or partially, depending on their relevance to the plot).
As the series of actions progresses, the plot traditionally intensifies. Tension helps keep the reader interested in a story, but it’s not the only thing that does so. (Also, there are certain stories in which the plot doesn’t intensify. This is a kind of experiment, done purposefully, and is often less fulfilling for many readers. Basically, in these instances, the tension of the story comes from the experiment, not the plot.) By tension, I mean the obstacles the protagonist faces become more difficult to overcome. At the same time, the protagonist’s need to address the problem also intensifies. This is also called Rising Action. (The tension comes for the reader in the question of whether the protagonist will be able to overcome these obstacles and address his/her problem.) As the plot intensifies, as the protagonist’s efforts intensify, the plot rises to an ending, a conclusion which is surprising but inevitable.
Traditionally, going back to Aristotle, the accepted form of a plot is one that has three parts: a beginning, middle, and an end. In the beginning, the protagonist is introduced. In the middle, the problem is introduced and the protagonist struggles with the obstacle/s. Finally, in the end the protagonist reaches some conclusion with his/her problem, and we have the resolution. The more recent structure we’re probably all familiar with from film and the like is the five act structure, which is similar to Aristotle’s form but more developed. The most familiar version of this is probably the ABDCE form: Action, so we begin en media res (“in the middle”). Think of a horror movie which opens with the monster dispatching some unlucky, fornicating teenagers. B is for Backstory, which gives the reader some information on the who, what, when, where, why, and how of the story. Development reveals the problem the protagonist must overcome and moves him/her towards it. Climax is when things come to a head. This is when the protagonist faces the final obstacle and either overcomes or doesn’t or…some variation thereof. This leaves us with the Ending. This is our denouement in which the story is essentially over, but things have to be wrapped up. Maybe there are some small plot threads that need to be resolved. Maybe the reader would just like to know what happens next. These are just basic forms that might get you thinking about structure; don’t feel obliged to follow them. Bear in mind that especially the ABDCE form is very common, and therefore predictable. There are many variations on structure. Basically, the story often determines its own structure, but knowing the basics can help with that.
4 Common Problems with Plot:
1. There is none. The piece is a character study with no rising action. This means that the protagonist lacks clear motivation, so there’s no problem to overcome, or the importance of the problem isn’t spelled out. There is also likely no antagonist representing a clear obstacle. This can be subtle; the protagonist’s need to overcome whatever obstacle just might not be clearly explained.
2. There’s too much. The piece is all action with no introspection, so the reader doesn’t get a clear understanding of the characters beyond basic human drives. I can’t help but think of action movies, whose characters are usually flat. Die Hard is a good example of an action movie that avoids this, however; John McClane is a cop, so when the terrorists take over the building, he’s compelled to act. Also, he’s having some marriage problems, so the fact that his wife is held hostage is another huge problem for him. These ideas are developed throughout the movie, so even though we end up with an over-the-top explode-a-rama, we still have an idea who the main character actually is. Of course, on the flipside, I can’t help but think of James Fenimore Cooper’s novels in which characters might stop in the middle of a battle to discuss historical war strategies, which is, of course, absurd and breaks the rising tension. (And then one of them steps on a twig when trying to be sneaky…)
3. The actions/obstacles veer from a true progression towards the conclusion. This means there are unnecessary and distracting elements in the story which take the reader away from the protagonist’s struggle with the obstacle. The Shaggy Dog Story is an example of this, in which a lot of information is given but it doesn’t really add up to a story. This tends to be an unpleasant read. Of course, the greatest, most successful example of this would probably be Laurence Sterne’s epic, hilarious The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman, which is a post-modern novel written before modernism in which the narrator attempts to share his life’s story but never gets beyond the age of four or so due to his constant digressions. In these digressions, he manages to thoroughly characterize his family and several neighbors, and manages the whole thing with a great deal of humor. I give this example to demonstrate that any rule of writing is meant to be broken, but it must be broken very well to pay off.
4. Something’s missing. Finally, the progression isn’t complete. The reader is unsure how we got to this point in the story. I could list any number of action movies as examples of this, again. One common version of this form is the Deus Ex Machina, or “God from the Machine.” (This refers back to the descent of a god in Greek tragedies—the god descended from a machine onto the stage to solve whatever problem was happening on stage). This is a story in which we have all this buildup, and then suddenly, from nowhere, a character comes in and solves all the problems at the last minute, which means that everything we’ve been reading up to this point has been unnecessary, i.e. pointless. This tends to piss off the reader.
Tips for Plot:
1. Don’t force it but don’t forget it.
-Try to let the plot develop naturally but don’t forget that the reader appreciates there being a plot.
2. Outline after the fact.
-This can help, once you’ve finished a draft, to make sure there aren’t any extraneous scenes or missing scenes. Many writers will jot an outline before they write, and that’s fine if that’s how you work. Most writers then ignore that outline while they actually write, preferring to let the story develop naturally. Going back after you’ve finished a draft and just jotting down a quick list of scenes and what they accomplish can help with revision.
3. Complications
-An enjoyable story needs complications (obstacles) but these shouldn’t be forced. They should also be paced so that they are satisfying for the reader. Trivial complications will feel forced, whereas too strong of a complication too soon can come off as overwhelming.
4. The conclusion should be surprising but inevitable.
This is a little harder to define. The ending should be inevitable because you’ve been building to it the entire story, but it should also still be somewhat surprising because it isn’t totally obvious. If there’s truly something at stake for the protagonist, then his/her final decision/action could, theoretically, “go either way.” Again, this is a difficult concept to state clearly, but it’s important for the ending to be satisfying.
-CL Bledsoe
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Thursday, October 03, 2013
Nuts & Bolts: POV
POV
Point of View (POV) in fiction refers to the perspective from which a story is told. There are three basic types of point of view, first person, second person, and third person, and each of these have subtypes. First person POV means that a character in the story tells the story. This offers an opportunity for the author to really revel in the character’s voice and share a great deal of information about that character, subtly. The character’s word choices, the things s/he chooses to share, and the things s/he actually notices all tell the reader a lot about that character. There are two types of first person POV: omniscient and limited. First person omniscient POV means the narrator has access to information that s/he wouldn’t normally have, especially information only other characters might have, such as their thoughts and feelings. This usually implies that the author has some connection to the narrator, or maybe is the narrator, though there can be ways to work around this. Usually, though, first person omniscient is a difficult POV to pull off because the reader often finds it unbelievable that the narrator would have access to certain information. There are ways to work around this, of course. First person limited means that a character narrates the story but only has access to information that s/he would normally have. This can be an especially “limiting” perspective because the only information really available to the reader is that which the narrator knows. On the flip side, this can add mystery and be used to further characterization, and it does usually add believability to the story.
It’s tempting for novice writers to always use first person because of the inherent benefits, but it shouldn’t be overused. Because of its limitations, it can be alienating and even annoying to the reader. And if the narrator doesn’t have a distinctive voice, first person perspective is kind of wasted. If the voice isn’t distinctive, the writer should use third person and take advantage of the opportunities that offers.
Second person POV is an oft-maligned, little understood perspective. Instead of the “I” used in first person POV, second person uses “you.” This POV addresses the reader. This can be unsettling to many readers and is therefore rarely used. Probably the most successful usage has been in the “Choose Your Own Adventure” books for young people. There have been many novels, also, written in second person (Bright Lights Big City, by Jay McInerney), though it’s rare for these to achieve mainstream success, and many other novels will lapse into second person occasionally, especially in dialogue. Colloquially, we often will use second person in dialogue when telling stories: “You work all day and get home to a dirty house and a bunch of ungrateful kids…” The thing to understand about second person narration is that it basically acts as a kind of colloquial first person, usually. When the narrator (or storyteller) says “you” s/he really means “I.” As with first and third person POVs, second person can be limited and omniscient but it has the same limitations and/or advantages of first or third person limited and omniscient. Second person creates a distinctive feel in a piece of writing, and because of that, if handled well, it can be very engaging, once the reader gets over the shock of its strangeness.
Third person POV is probably the most common POV. Basically, there is no narrator, or the author is the narrator. A third person limited POV is the most common. Often, it follows a character closely though it doesn’t delve into his/her thoughts. This is called a “close third” POV. Currently, this is accepted as the most realistic POV. Close third allows a fairly close narration, even slipping quite close to first person at times, and also allows the author to add details that the POV character wouldn’t necessarily know, usually handled in a third person POV description of another character’s actions, but is limited by not being omniscient. Third person omniscient is rarely used these days but was quite popular in centuries past. One of the main reasons it has fallen out of favor, other than the lack of believability, is that it often verged on solipsism for the author. Authors tended to ramble, when using this POV, which also turned off readers. It has been done beautifully, of course. It’s important to remember that these are all guidelines, not rules, and that anything is possible to do well. But there are reasons things are usually done certain ways.
Now let’s talk about who is actually doing the narrating. There are two main characters in 99% of stories, the characters between whom a problem exists, which is what the story is really about. More on this later. These characters are known as the protagonist and the antagonist. The protagonist is the one with the problem; the antagonist is the one in the way. Sometimes the protagonist is referred to as the “hero” of the story, but this is a little too simplistic. For one reason, the protagonist might not be a hero; s/he might be deeply flawed or in the wrong or what have you. In Nabokov’s Lolita, for example, anyone would have a hard time labeling Humbert Humbert a “hero” but he is most assuredly the protagonist. He’s also the narrator, which is a quick and dirty but not always reliable way to figure out who the protagonist is. (Jay Gatsby is the protagonist in Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, though Nick, his neighbor, is the narrator.) But often the narrator is the protagonist. The antagonist, on the other hand, is the person (or sometimes place) that gets in the way of the protagonist solving his/her problem. Some refer to this as the “villain” but that’s also a pretty limited view. The antagonist isn’t always bad and isn’t always trying to make things difficult for the protagonist, and maybe isn’t even aware what’s happening. Life, as they assay, is complicated and so is fiction. And one thing to remember when talking about characters in a story is that every character thinks s/he is the hero. Very, very rarely does anyone do things for nefarious reasons, really. Even then, it’s usually mitigated by all sorts of other complicated motivations. This is good because readers don’t really like obvious, stock characters or situations, but it means more work for us.
There are also a couple types of narration we haven’t touched on: unreliable vs. reliable. Reliable narration means the reader trusts the narrator’s perspective and doesn’t doubt the veracity of what the narrator says. This can be complicated, if we delve too deeply. Remember the lesson of Akutagawa’s story “In a Grove” (often confused with “Roshomon”) or Tim O’Brien’s novel The Things They Carried, both of which feature seemingly reliable narrators who offer differing, at times contradictory, versions of events; basically, it’s difficult to pin down reality because it’s filtered through the senses and experiences of its observers. But let’s not go too deep since we didn’t bring our shovels. The other end of the spectrum is the unreliable narrator. This is someone who, for whichever reasons, the reader doesn’t trust. Usually, this distrust grows over the course of the story or novel and is the basis for some big reveal on which the plot is hinged. The possible drawback to unreliable narrators is that the reader can be put off by this. It calls into question the reality of the story and this can be off-putting. And so, to be done well, unreliability in a narrator must be mitigated and clear, many would say.
Getting back to that perspective idea, it’s important to realize that any perspective in a story is influenced by something. Even a third person narration is influenced by the writer’s own preconceptions, choices, etc. The key is to be aware in order to allow these choices to be purposeful.
Thoughts?
Point of View (POV) in fiction refers to the perspective from which a story is told. There are three basic types of point of view, first person, second person, and third person, and each of these have subtypes. First person POV means that a character in the story tells the story. This offers an opportunity for the author to really revel in the character’s voice and share a great deal of information about that character, subtly. The character’s word choices, the things s/he chooses to share, and the things s/he actually notices all tell the reader a lot about that character. There are two types of first person POV: omniscient and limited. First person omniscient POV means the narrator has access to information that s/he wouldn’t normally have, especially information only other characters might have, such as their thoughts and feelings. This usually implies that the author has some connection to the narrator, or maybe is the narrator, though there can be ways to work around this. Usually, though, first person omniscient is a difficult POV to pull off because the reader often finds it unbelievable that the narrator would have access to certain information. There are ways to work around this, of course. First person limited means that a character narrates the story but only has access to information that s/he would normally have. This can be an especially “limiting” perspective because the only information really available to the reader is that which the narrator knows. On the flip side, this can add mystery and be used to further characterization, and it does usually add believability to the story.
It’s tempting for novice writers to always use first person because of the inherent benefits, but it shouldn’t be overused. Because of its limitations, it can be alienating and even annoying to the reader. And if the narrator doesn’t have a distinctive voice, first person perspective is kind of wasted. If the voice isn’t distinctive, the writer should use third person and take advantage of the opportunities that offers.
Second person POV is an oft-maligned, little understood perspective. Instead of the “I” used in first person POV, second person uses “you.” This POV addresses the reader. This can be unsettling to many readers and is therefore rarely used. Probably the most successful usage has been in the “Choose Your Own Adventure” books for young people. There have been many novels, also, written in second person (Bright Lights Big City, by Jay McInerney), though it’s rare for these to achieve mainstream success, and many other novels will lapse into second person occasionally, especially in dialogue. Colloquially, we often will use second person in dialogue when telling stories: “You work all day and get home to a dirty house and a bunch of ungrateful kids…” The thing to understand about second person narration is that it basically acts as a kind of colloquial first person, usually. When the narrator (or storyteller) says “you” s/he really means “I.” As with first and third person POVs, second person can be limited and omniscient but it has the same limitations and/or advantages of first or third person limited and omniscient. Second person creates a distinctive feel in a piece of writing, and because of that, if handled well, it can be very engaging, once the reader gets over the shock of its strangeness.
Third person POV is probably the most common POV. Basically, there is no narrator, or the author is the narrator. A third person limited POV is the most common. Often, it follows a character closely though it doesn’t delve into his/her thoughts. This is called a “close third” POV. Currently, this is accepted as the most realistic POV. Close third allows a fairly close narration, even slipping quite close to first person at times, and also allows the author to add details that the POV character wouldn’t necessarily know, usually handled in a third person POV description of another character’s actions, but is limited by not being omniscient. Third person omniscient is rarely used these days but was quite popular in centuries past. One of the main reasons it has fallen out of favor, other than the lack of believability, is that it often verged on solipsism for the author. Authors tended to ramble, when using this POV, which also turned off readers. It has been done beautifully, of course. It’s important to remember that these are all guidelines, not rules, and that anything is possible to do well. But there are reasons things are usually done certain ways.
Now let’s talk about who is actually doing the narrating. There are two main characters in 99% of stories, the characters between whom a problem exists, which is what the story is really about. More on this later. These characters are known as the protagonist and the antagonist. The protagonist is the one with the problem; the antagonist is the one in the way. Sometimes the protagonist is referred to as the “hero” of the story, but this is a little too simplistic. For one reason, the protagonist might not be a hero; s/he might be deeply flawed or in the wrong or what have you. In Nabokov’s Lolita, for example, anyone would have a hard time labeling Humbert Humbert a “hero” but he is most assuredly the protagonist. He’s also the narrator, which is a quick and dirty but not always reliable way to figure out who the protagonist is. (Jay Gatsby is the protagonist in Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, though Nick, his neighbor, is the narrator.) But often the narrator is the protagonist. The antagonist, on the other hand, is the person (or sometimes place) that gets in the way of the protagonist solving his/her problem. Some refer to this as the “villain” but that’s also a pretty limited view. The antagonist isn’t always bad and isn’t always trying to make things difficult for the protagonist, and maybe isn’t even aware what’s happening. Life, as they assay, is complicated and so is fiction. And one thing to remember when talking about characters in a story is that every character thinks s/he is the hero. Very, very rarely does anyone do things for nefarious reasons, really. Even then, it’s usually mitigated by all sorts of other complicated motivations. This is good because readers don’t really like obvious, stock characters or situations, but it means more work for us.
There are also a couple types of narration we haven’t touched on: unreliable vs. reliable. Reliable narration means the reader trusts the narrator’s perspective and doesn’t doubt the veracity of what the narrator says. This can be complicated, if we delve too deeply. Remember the lesson of Akutagawa’s story “In a Grove” (often confused with “Roshomon”) or Tim O’Brien’s novel The Things They Carried, both of which feature seemingly reliable narrators who offer differing, at times contradictory, versions of events; basically, it’s difficult to pin down reality because it’s filtered through the senses and experiences of its observers. But let’s not go too deep since we didn’t bring our shovels. The other end of the spectrum is the unreliable narrator. This is someone who, for whichever reasons, the reader doesn’t trust. Usually, this distrust grows over the course of the story or novel and is the basis for some big reveal on which the plot is hinged. The possible drawback to unreliable narrators is that the reader can be put off by this. It calls into question the reality of the story and this can be off-putting. And so, to be done well, unreliability in a narrator must be mitigated and clear, many would say.
Getting back to that perspective idea, it’s important to realize that any perspective in a story is influenced by something. Even a third person narration is influenced by the writer’s own preconceptions, choices, etc. The key is to be aware in order to allow these choices to be purposeful.
Thoughts?
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