Fiction Formula Plotting Read online

  FICTION FORMULA PLOTTING

  By

  Deborah Chester

  Copyright © 2017 by Deborah Chester

  This book is an original edition, and has never been previously published.

  All rights reserved.

  This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by any means, without permission of the author.

  Other Books by Deborah Chester

  Nonfiction:

  FICTION FORMULA PLOTTING

  THE FANTASY FICTION FORMULA

  Fiction:

  REIGN OF SHADOWS

  SHADOW WAR

  REALM OF LIGHT

  THE PEARLS

  THE CROWN

  THE SWORD

  THE RING

  THE CHALICE

  THE QUEEN’S GAMBIT

  THE KING BETRAYED

  THE QUEEN’S KNIGHT

  THE KING IMPERILED

  Writing as Sean Dalton:

  SPACEHAWKS

  CODENAME PEREGRINE

  BEYOND THE VOID

  THE ROSTMA LURE

  DESTINATION MUTINY

  THE SALUKAN GAMBIT

  Writing as C. Aubrey Hall:

  CRYSTAL BONES

  THE CALL OF EIRIAN

  MAGE FIRE

  TOC

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  About the Author

  FICTION FORMULA PLOTTING

  Introduction

  Are you eager to write? Is your mind teeming with characters, settings, and situations, but do you feel confused about how to handle them?

  Where should you begin?

  What should your characters do first?

  How many protagonists should you have?

  How do you explain setting and background to readers?

  Should your most exciting event happen first or last?

  What should go in the middle?

  How is the ending constructed?

  Such questions—and I could add many more to this sampling—can seem endless. Too many choices and decisions can feel so overwhelming it’s easy to become befuddled or even blocked. If this is you, are you tempted to abandon your project completely?

  Don’t let frustration beat you.

  There are ways to combat the confusion. Never let the task of plot development make you doubt yourself or your story premise to the point of giving up.

  While the challenges of plotting can tie writers into creative knots, planning decisions made the Fiction Formula way will help you avoid many potential pitfalls, plot holes, and dead ends.

  This book and its companion volume of exercises will focus on how to plot commercial genre fiction written according to the principles of classic story design. I call these principles the Fiction Formula. As you gain mastery over the basics, you can then—should you find classic story design too confining—branch out into other types of experimental or even avant-garde forms. That’s entirely up to you. There are several styles of writing fiction. Some have mass appeal; others are an acquired taste and attract only a few.

  However, classic design has been entertaining western civilization successfully for thousands of years, and it will continue to enthrall readers. The farther away you move from its approach, the smaller your potential audience will become.

  While incorporating the writing principles of classic storytelling, the Fiction Formula method is by no means the only way to put a story together; it’s simply an approach that’s proven to work.

  This book will show you how to isolate the most important plot events in your idea and lay out what should happen in your story from start to finish. And although almost every tale you spin has curveballs to throw at you along the way, once you understand the principles of solid plotting you’ll be able to handle the unexpected. Even better, you’ll be able to turn it to your story’s advantage.

  In this book, I have organized the chapters systematically, much the way I approach any writing project. But you may dive into any chapter in whatever order suits you best. The companion workbook, Fiction Formula Plotting Practice, offers drills, exercises, and checklists to coordinate with each chapter.

  Keep in mind that while some genres—such as mysteries and romance—have plot structures unique to them, the same general principles of cohesive, dramatic, enthralling storytelling work for any genre and for any length of fiction whether you’re tackling a short story, novella, novel, or series.

  Let’s begin.

  Chapter 1

  Defining Plot

  Whether you are struck by a bolt of inspiration or your idea comes to you shyly in tiny bits and pieces, it’s useful to understand that a collection of incidents or character conversations do not constitute a plot.

  A setting—no matter how vividly you’ve built it in your imagination—does not constitute a plot.

  A character—however appealing, cute, and sympathetic—does not constitute a plot.

  A group of events lumped together does not constitute a plot.

  Impending danger looming over a character does not constitute a plot.

  What, then, IS a plot?

  In the Fiction Formula approach, plot is defined as a dramatized accounting of an individual being tested by a force of directed antagonism in a step-by-step struggle that will force the individual through an arc of change.

  Excuse me, what?

  Indigestible, isn’t it? Let’s break this working definition into pieces and examine them one at a time for better clarification.

  A plot is a dramatized account.

  Stop here. Let’s expand on this. Dramatized means you’ll be writing the story action in a series of scenes and their aftermaths, all linked together in a logical progression. Something—a catalyst or launch event—will occur in the opening pages, and as a direct result of it, the next event will happen. As a direct result of that, the next event will take place. And so on.

  When you dramatize your plot into scenes, you are writing each moment-by-moment event as it happens in story time, without summary.

  Alternatively, you can present your story in narrative, but although a great deal of nineteenth and twentieth-century fiction was written in a summarized mode of discourse—including omniscient author intrusion—heavy reliance on narrative changed in the 1970s. Today, most genre fiction is primarily written in scene action that unfolds on the page step by step through a viewpoint character’s perspective.

  An individual being tested.

  Every genre story needs a protagonist, an individual central to the plot. This character’s arc of change will come about through the plot events that are designed and chosen to test him or her. If the story is to have much dramatic merit—i.e. readability—it should test the protagonist hard.

  In real life, people resist change. They prefer to stay where they are, whether they like their situation or not, because it’s familiar and they understand it. Change, you see, brings uncertainty. And people tend naturally to avoid any alteration to their status quo that might bring about the unknown.

  But in fiction, we’re writing stories about situations chosen or designed to force the story protagonist to change. (I’ll go deeper into the whys and wherefores in Chapter 7.)

  Often the central character is reluctant to move or grow, but that’s okay. All the challenges, setbacks, and conflict this character will face in the story will be designed to get at who the protagonist really is—what the protagonist is truly made of. Is this character a hero? Maybe not at the start, but by the end of the story he or she will have become heroic. Or will have gained insight. Or will be able to face a problem from the past. Or will find the courage to apologize or make restitution for a past mistake. Or will become king. Or will find true love. Or will be redeemed in some way.

  Change is scary. It’s threatening. It’s difficult. And, in fiction, it’s necessary. Otherwise, we’re going to read a story about a character who never unmasks, who solves every problem with ease, and who is—yawn—boring.

  The force of antagonism.

  When an individual—our protagonist—meets an oppositional force of antagonism, the result is character conflict. Stories need conflict the way our bodies need oxygen. Without conflict, stories wither and die quickly.

  You can contrive a random series of dangerous incidents to befall your protagonist. For example, you decide she will narrowly escape a rock avalanche. Then she will be attacked by a puma. Then she must cross a river and the current will be so strong it sweeps her along and nearly drowns her. Then, once she reaches the bank and climbs it, she will stumble into a swarm of biting gnats that try to eat her alive. After that, she’ll go into allergic shock from her bites and will be rushed to a hospital by the local park ranger.

  Wow. Isn’t that an exciting plot?

  Nope.

  Why not? We’ve got danger and excitement. Won’t that hold a story together?

  Well . . . let’s just say that a skilled author might contrive a string of such hideous bad luck into a story of sorts. But it can’t be sustained plausibly—repeat, plausibly—for more than a few pages because these random adventures lack cohesion. The
y quickly will lose their novelty for a reader. And what’s the point anyway?

  But if instead of writing “Danielle’s Awful Hiking Day” we use the Fiction Formula approach by creating an antagonist for Danielle—an antagonist that’s a sentient character with a well-motivated reason for attacking her—then we’ve generated actual plot.

  Let’s say that Danielle meets a new co-worker and hits it off with the guy quickly. Danielle finds something elusively familiar about Jonah but can’t put her finger on it. She and Jonah seem to have a lot in common, and when Jonah invites Danielle to go hiking with him that weekend, she accepts. Danielle used to hike frequently when she was a teen, but she stopped after her little brother was lost in the woods and never found. And so, while she’s enjoying the beautiful scenery, she’s also remembering that past tragedy and regretting that she didn’t watch out for Buddy the way she should have.

  Then, without warning, Jonah shoves Danielle off the trail and she falls into a ravine. She could have died there, but she’s only stunned. Half-concussed, she gains her feet and calls out to Jonah for help, but he starts a small avalanche of rocks crashing down on her, and she must run for her life. Then Jonah starts shooting at Danielle, who dives into the river at the bottom of the ravine. The current is very strong, and Danielle is weakened by her injuries. She nearly drowns but finally climbs onto the opposite bank. Jonah shoots at her again, this time wounding her grievously. Jonah leaves Danielle for dead, but with the last of her strength she finds one weak signal bar on her cell phone and manages to call for help, bringing a park ranger who rushes her to a hospital.

  A reader can be wondering why, why, why throughout Danielle’s ordeal, but Jonah’s antagonism—although unexplained at this stage—creates an exciting escalation of trouble for her and will probably hook readers into continuing the story to find out what lies behind his villainous behavior. Is he really the long-lost brother Buddy? Does he blame Danielle for what happened to him? Is he after revenge? Readers will wonder that, and if he isn’t Buddy after all, then there are more plot twists to come.

  Step-by-step struggle.

  Now, as we continue through our definition of plot, we’re reaching the heart and soul of it: conflict. When you set up a directly opposed antagonist, strife between protagonist and antagonist is inevitable. And if you dramatize that struggle, the scene action happens step by step in a logical, plausible cause-and-effect progression of events. Writing this way saves you from having to string an assortment of disconnected incidents together.

  Constructing scenes by the Fiction Formula approach makes them focused, clear, and easy for readers to follow. When you build scenes and their reactions this way, figuring out what will happen next is simple. There’s no need to strain for ideas or contrive a series of disconnected events. Scenes written in accordance with basic writing principles will keep your story on track.

  The protagonist’s arc of change.

  Forcing the protagonist through an arc of change is what commercial fiction is all about. Throughout a story, the plot events and the antagonist are testing the protagonist to see what makes her tick. Is she brave and resourceful? Will she find the inner strength to withstand what’s thrown at her? Will she risk her life to save her child, or will she be able finally to let go of former self-doubts and trust in a new relationship?

  In real life, many people slide along between home and job, keeping themselves out of trouble by never making waves, never taking risks, never growing as individuals because they avoid challenges and difficulties. They’re called prudent by some and stodgy by others, but either way they cruise through life and survive.

  But realistic people do not make vivid characters. They won’t come to life within the pages of a short story or a book. Instead, characters are designed to be anything but realistic. While some of them are intrepid and full of pluck from page one, others are pushed by story circumstances into a new life or venture, one full of risks and scary situations. Frodo Baggins in J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings did not want to leave the comfort of his hearth, and yet he was swept out into an enormous adventure that tested him to the very limits of his strength, courage, and endurance. That test made a hero of him.

  Now, permit me to repeat my working definition as follows:

  Plot is a dramatized accounting of an individual being tested by a force of directed antagonism in a step-by-step struggle that will force the individual through an arc of change.

  Does it make better sense to you now? Has your understanding of what plot is, and is not, gained clarity?

  [For exercises in developing a preliminary plot premise, see Chapter 1 in Fiction Formula Plotting Practice.]

  Chapter 2

  Idea Development

  Some writers have no difficulty in putting together a plot within a few minutes. Others struggle for days or weeks, winding themselves into a tangle of confusing images, bits of dialogue, and an unruly cast of characters they can’t seem to find parts for. And still others sit blankly, staring at their computer screens in hopes that inspiration will eventually strike.

  One of my favorite “writer” films is the 1987 Billy Crystal comedy, Throw Mama from the Train. The hero, angry at his ex-wife for having stolen his novel, is too upset to write. Consequently, he sits at his typewriter day after day, searching for the perfect adjective and unable to complete the opening sentence for his next work of fiction.

  The Fiction Formula approach does not rely on inspiration. It welcomes it when it drops by, of course. Certainly, inspiration can enhance certain story events already outlined or even solve a plot problem or two along the way, but it does not always arrive on time, if at all.

  When you understand classic story design and how its writing principles fit together to form a story, then plotting a new idea becomes a matter of putting those principles to work.

  However, how is a new idea even generated? Creative people never know what’s going to spark fire in their imaginations. When it ignites, we love that sizzle, don’t we? It’s a rush of excitement that urges us to get started.

  But again, if you rely only on the spark, what do you do when it fizzles or doesn’t come at all?

  Does that mean your idea is no good?

  Not at all. It means you’ll have to work harder to put your story together.

  A Fiction Formula writer understands that sometimes it’s necessary to put in a lot of effort to generate a story idea, develop it, and test it before inspiration strikes.

  Brainstorming

  If you haven’t been planning your book since eighth grade or if you haven’t awakened from a dream that’s awarded you with a fabulous idea, then you’ll probably have to try some brainstorming. Whether you do it with a group of buddies, one trusted friend, or by yourself doesn’t matter.

  If you bounce ideas off others, you need to be sure you’re comfortable with them. Ideally you want a group of writers at your level of expertise, and the group should be small and committed to helping each other—not present to tear anyone down or steal ideas discussed in the session. If you’re meeting with a buddy, then that individual should be a writer also or someone who reads avidly enough to have a solid sense of story. Avoid brainstorming with anyone with poor story sense or the desire to please you by agreeing with anything you say.

  Whether it’s an all-day plotting fest, a lunch, or an evening’s chat, sharing ideas can produce the excitement that will send you rushing to your keyboard. At this stage, however, you aren’t ready to write. Hold back.

  It’s also important when brainstorming to avoid censoring yourself too harshly or overthinking. Go with your gut reactions: “I like that a lot! Wait! Let me jot it down.” Or, “No! What are you thinking? My hero Beauregard would never do that.”

  Let ideas and suggestions flow. When they get too crazy, stop for a while. Make sure you take notes. Later you’ll want to mull them over, keeping whatever appeals to you—even if you don’t know why—and rejecting anything that doesn’t.

  You can also brainstorm alone. Set aside all distractions, and silence your phone. Then, in the quiet, write down anything that comes to you: the name of a town, a setting, a passage of description, an exchange of dialogue, the image of an axe for whatever reason, colors, whatever’s swirling through your mind.