Archive for March, 2007

Fixing the Plot of the Episodic Book

Mar 8th, 07 / 3 Comments

When an editor or critique partner calls your work episodic, it means that you’re not using your writers’ toolbox to do your job. As a novelist, your job is to entertain by means of telling a story. That story must have a beginning, a middle and an end. Typically, the beginning introduces a character who is facing a challenge (the conflict), the middle documents the events that prompt a transformation and the end shows what/who the character has become. This transformation of character is called the ‘character arc’ and is prompted by events of the book, the conflict of the story and/or the influence of other characters in the story.

Some people like to talk about whether a book is plot-driven or character-driven — really, it should be both. Similarly, it doesn’t matter whether you think of the plot first or the character first. The trick is that you should build the story so that the two are utterly entwined, so that it is impossible to tell which came first (or to imagine one without the other.)

A romance is particularly challenging to write because there are two character arcs: that of the hero and that of the heroine. One of them will be the dominant character (the protagonist), but the two stories will entwine and affect each other. Ideally, each character will personify the conflict to the other at the beginning of the story, sexual attraction (and other variables) will complicate the middle of the book, the resolution will see each character transformed and the two characters committed to each other.

So, today, we’ll talk separately about the plot and character.

The only way to fix an episodic book is to rip the book apart and (inevitably) throw out the large chunks that are unnecessary or repetitive. A thorough analysis of what you have will give you a plan for revision, but this is not a revision for the faint of heart. You might decide to write another book instead. The thing is that until you know how a book needs to be structured (i.e. until you’ve done this revision exercise at least once) you’ll probably make the same mistake again. The more complicated the book is, the more likely the writer is to lose track of all the elements and end up with an episodic work, so as your work progresses and becomes more complex, you can wander into this trap again. On the upside, doing this exercise will teach you a lot about books.

You may argue that you are an intuitive writer (a “pantser”) and that you prefer to work on instinct. It’s true that there are writers and storytellers who never need to analyze the structure of their work but (brace yourself) the very fact that you have an episodic work on your hands proves that you are not one of them.

Yet. You can learn to be such a writer but you’ll have to train your instincts. Most innate storytellers have learned the structure of stories and the necessary composition of elements in a successful story by avid reading. Remember that storytelling is manipulative – stories take elements that could be from real life and rearrange them into a coherence that the real world seldom shows. This gives meaning to the events.

It creates a plot.

In a romance, the plot is focussed upon the development of the romantic relationship between a man and a woman. The attraction between them draws them together and the external conflict pushes them apart. Because the development of the romantic relationship is key, it’s best to have a conflict in your book that also compels the two characters together. It should never be easy for them to walk away from each other forever. That’s why the external conflict often pits the two against each other:

• one is the city hotshot who bought the family business; the other is the family member left in charge of the transition who didn’t want to sell out
• one is the police detective investigating a homicide; the other is a private eye so consistently in the way that he/she becomes a suspect
• etc.

You see what I mean – they have similar objectives but initially are on opposing sides. Over the course of the book, it will inevitably become clear to both of them that they can accomplish more working together.

Exercise:
What is the external conflict for your hero and for your heroine?
Are the conflicts entwined?
Can you entwine them?

If the external conflicts are not entwined, it’s not impossible to write a good book but it is more difficult. If one character is a superhero trying to save the world, for example, and the other is a chef opening his/her first restaurant, there’s no reason for them to keep coming back to each other. This is why superheroes (even though their stories are not romances per se but only have romantic elements) tend to find Lois Lane or Mary Jane taken hostage by the villain, who knows the superhero’s affection for the woman in question. For a romance, this is a less satisfactory solution than having the pair engaged in the same external conflict all along: it would be a better romance if the ace female reporter was trying to reveal the villain as a journalist and perceived the superhero to be messing up her opportunities to gather evidence.

Sometimes, editors call books “episodic” which suffer from this problem of unlinked external conflicts. This is a different issue than having no plot or character arc — essentially, the book has two independent plots that don’t seem to have much to do with each other. The effect is the same, though: the reader can’t perceive where the book is going.

In romances, it’s also typical for each main character to have an internal conflict. This usually is emotional and often reflects the character’s issues with love, relationships, marriage, commitment, trust. It is easier to write a romance in which the two main characters have interior conflicts that mirror each other.

• one is skeptical about love; the other is a romantic
• one is closed to the world, burned in the past and unwilling to trust; the other is open and giving
• one wants children, marriage, family, a network of loved ones; the other wants solitude
• etc.

By having differing views on the same subject, the two can teach each other and heal each other. If neither believes in love and romance, for example, and both want to spend their lives alone, they might just agree to do that by page 20. There’s no conflict or tension to drive the story forward. Typically, these mirrored conflicts are actually polarized views. Lots of family vs. no family. All or nothing. And also typically, the pair temper each other by the end of the book, finding a middle ground that suits them both.

Exercise:
What is the internal conflict for your hero and heroine?
What is the root or backstory responsible for this conflict?
What would compel each character to reconsider his/her perspective?

You can probably see where I’m leading you here. Conflicts are resolved in increments and the progression should be evident to the reader. If not, either your increments are unclear or they’re not there. For the purposes of sketching out the book, work in three steps to resolution – in reality, you may use smaller increments in your book.

The first step makes the character question his/her standing assumptions.  Generally, this is because the other character surprises him/her.

The second step makes the character modify his/her view, and acknowledge that the other character provides an exception to that standing assumption.

The third step is proof of a change of view – events require the character to act upon this new conviction. What would make him/her do it?


Exercise:
What is the resolution of the external conflict?
What are the incremental steps necessary to resolve the conflict?
What is the resolution of the heroine’s internal conflict?
What are the incremental steps necessary for that resolution?
What is the resolution of the hero’s internal conflict?
What are the incremental steps necessary for that resolution?

You should have a list of at least 9 events. Put them in order 1-1-1-2-2-2-3-3-3 (You can tweak this later.)

Exercise:
Map out your book as it stands. Number each scene and summarize its reason for being. Why is it there? What information is presented? Which scenes provide the steps and resolutions you’ve listed? Move the scenes around, if necessary, to ensure that they are order.

You may find it easier to do this in a spreadsheet program. It won’t be a quick job, but it’s a critical part of making this fix.

I’ll guess that 1/3 to 1/2 of your scenes have a reason to be there. Some of your conflict resolution scenes may not exist. Indicate in your spreadsheet where they should go in the structure of the book, and think about how to write them best.

But, what about the rest? Are there scenes that provide repetitive information? Are there scenes that you like but do not drive the plot forward? Are there “wallpaper” scenes that set the mood but don’t contribute otherwise? Are there scenes that do not lead to the resolution of the conflict?

If so, delete them.

Yes, it hurts, but it’s easier if you do it yourself. You may find it easier to print them out before you delete them (so they’re not “gone forever”) or to move the text to a file called “Extra”. It doesn’t seem as harsh and you can imagine that you’ll go back and use that prose again someday (even if you never do.)

Next, we’ll talk about character.

Writing

Fixing the Character Arc of the Episodic Book

Mar 8th, 07 / 0 Comments
Remember that an episodic book has neither a plot nor a character arc. You can make a book work with one or the other, but ideally it would have both. In a romance, yes, that means the plot and two character arcs, all entangled and entwined and feeding each other.Is that easy? No. That’s why there are so few perfect books, and why every book can be improved.Okay, on to fixing the character arc.

The character arc is the transformation that occurs in the protagonist of any work of fiction. That change is the result of the plot’s effect upon the character. As in so many other things, this is complicated in a romance because both the hero and the heroine should show a character arc. When there is no character arc, when the character does not change or evolve as a result of the book’s events, we feel let down as readers. We feel that there was no point to the story. Even if there was a plot, if the plot made no difference to the protagonist, we might call the book “episodic”.

If, BTW, you and I can argue about whether there is a character arc in any given book or movie, then there effectively isn’t a character arc. The transformation of the protagonist must be indisputable to count as a character arc.

Imagine that you have an episodic book. Imagine that I give you an exercise of identifying and deleting all of the scenes in that book ms that don’t contribute to the forward progression of the plot. I’ll guess that you’ll leave some, arguing to yourself that those scenes show the character arc and should therefore be allowed to remain. The resolution of the internal conflict is part of the character arc (it might be the sum of it).

BUT (you knew there would be a catch, didn’t you?) it is better in terms of structure to have scenes that do double-duty. A scene that only shows an incremental step in the resolution of the internal conflict of one character is not working as hard as it should. That’s not to say that you can’t have one or two such scenes, but that you should recognize that such scenes slow the pacing of the book. Sometimes that’s worth it. Sometimes it’s just laziness on the part of the writer.

Exercise -
Examine your list of scenes.
Choose different colours of highlighter to indicate scenes which provide a step the resolution of the internal conflict for each protagonist.
Now take a third colour of highlighter and mark which scenes only perform one function.
Can you combine scenes so that they do double duty? Sometimes you can’t; sometimes a scene only does one thing but try to double up as much as possible. It will improve your pacing.

Now let’s look at entangling and entwining. In an ideal romance, the hero pushes the heroine to a realization, then the heroine pushes the hero to a realization. They progress toward the resolution of their respective conflicts, one step at a time, shoved in the right direction by the other character.

Look at these three examples. In all three, Leslie realizes that she loves Matt. This startles her, it’s news, it’s part of the resolution of her internal conflict. Given that commonality, notice the difference between the three options.

1/ Leslie, medieval scholar, is at work, reading an essay on Abelard and Heloise. In the midst of a quote from one of Heloise’s letters, in which Heloise confesses her love for Abelard, Leslie realizes that she loves Matt and should tell him so.

2/ Leslie, driving home from work, hears about a fire in the neighbourhood of her home. She races home to find that her own house is gutted, goes to the hospital and discovers that Matt is okay. This near-loss makes her realize how much she loves him, and she tells him so.

3/ Leslie gets up to find that Matt is leaving her. He says she doesn’t love him or understand him and so he’s walking out of their marriage. Leslie realizes, when it’s just about too late, how much she loves him and what a lousy job she’s done of showing him as much.

The first is a passive introspective scene. It is less powerful than the others. It might work well in a piece of literary fiction or women’s fiction.

The second is active, but the events are driven by external causes. This would be stronger for genre fiction because the scene is doing double duty. This might work well in a more action-oriented work, particularly as the climactic scene of a romance, suspense or mystery. Action is linked to introspection – in fact, action triggers realization, and cause-and-effect is something we find very compelling.

The third is active, but the events are driven by the other character. This is ideal for a romance, and in fact, is how I began my Claire Cross release, ONE MORE TIME. The two characters are compelling each other to embark upon their respective character arcs.

Finally, there’s the issue of how each incremental achievement in resolving the internal conflict is punctuated. The resolution of the internal conflict in a romance is usually emphasized with intimacy, either physical or emotional. When the characters have sex, when they confess secrets, when they allow intimacy with each other indicates to the reader that their relationship is progressing.

Exercise -
Look at each turning point in each character’s perspective, each of those three steps you have identified as incremental progress. Did the other character push this character to that realization? Was the other character the one who triggered events? If not, can you make it that way?

Look at how each turning point is punctuated. When do your characters make love, and why do they do it then? When do your characters share secrets, and why do they do it then? If these intimacies don’t coincide with the incremental resolution of one internal conflict or another, move them.

The final key to an effective character arc is the nature of the protagonist him/herself. Fiction works best when the protagonist is either sympathetic or compelling.

For example, I read a book recently in which the protagonist was neither. The plot immediately plunged the protagonist into a dangerous situation, life or death stuff, which was well-written and should have had me on the edge of my seat. But I didn’t care about the character at all: I put the book down in the middle of that critical scene, indifferent as to whether the character lived or died. The truth is that I read about 30 pages of that book and have no idea where it is now. It doesn’t much matter. I’ll never pick it up again.

Stories are about people and we read stories to find echoes of ourselves in them. We are innately interested in people and so the nature of the protagonist will determine whether or not we read the book.

A sympathetic character is one to whom we can relate. Either we want to be that character – because he or she is noble, larger than life, admirable etc. – or we see ourselves in that character – because he or she has both strengths and weaknesses. We tend to bond very strongly with characters who share our own fears and weaknesses, particularly those who struggle against their natures and try to be better or do better. These characters are heroic and we cheer for them.

A compelling character is not one to whom we can relate, nor one we particularly admire. A compelling character is simply fascinating, maybe because he or she is so alien. Sometimes compelling characters are funny or self-deprecating or evil.

This is a much more risky choice on the part of the writer, particularly in romance.

One of the tools best used to illuminate a protagonist who appears to be unsympathetic is first person POV. First person POV allows a deeper connection with the protagonist, and allows the reader to peer further into the character’s psyche. When this works, it’s because the writer has used first person POV to reveal that the character’s apparently unsympathetic nature is just a mask, and that beneath that mask, the character actually is sympathetic. This works best for characters who are very defensive or who present a tough facade to the world, characters with a lot of secrets (or one big one), or characters who are in denial about the truth of their goals and desires. The thing is that as a writer, you must allow those glimpses to the reader, otherwise there’s no point in using first person POV.

Exercise -
Is your heroine sympathetic or compelling? If she is sympathetic, list her strengths and weaknesses. List what makes her admirable and what makes her human. If she is compelling, list why we should care about her. List what makes her admirable and what makes her human. If you are writing a compelling heroine, esp one presented in first person pov, ensure that you have hinted at her vulnerability early on.

Now, go through the book and ensure that her characterization is consistent, even as she progresses through her character arc. In all likelihood, some elements of her character that were less obvious at the beginning will come to the fore over the course of the book, but they must be hinted at in the beginning for this progression to make sense. Are her secrets linked to her weaknesses? If not, think about how they could be.

Repeat this exercise with the hero.

So, there’s something for you to chew on. It takes a while to go through a book and analyze it like this, especially the first time you do it, but it’s a tremendous learning experience. Over time, you may come to do it instinctively with all books you read and movies you watch (like, um, I do.)

If you’re thinking that it would be easier to plan all of this ahead of time rather than to change a ms once it’s done, you won’t get any argument from me.

Writing

The Writers’ Toolbox – What is “Episodic”?

Mar 7th, 07 / 0 Comments

Writers get rejection letters all the time which declare that the work in question is episodic. But what does that mean?Today’s rant for the Writers’ Toolbox is about the word “episodic” and what it means. Tomorrow, I’ll talk about how to fix an episodic work.

Simply put:
No plot + no character arc = an episodic book/movie

Episodic means that the film or book appears as a string of incidents (or episodes) that do not lead anywhere. There’s no coherence or culmination or sense of direction. They could be random events.

Don’t confuse this with what I’ll call a pastiche, which is the presentation of a number of differing angles/views, deliberately chosen to lead to a specific conclusion. Epic movies/books are often a pastiche, an array of perspectives from lots of players in the drama, designed to give the viewer a better understanding of the whole. In this form, each individual character has a specific perspective as well as motivation and conflict.

“Episodic” means nothing is going anywhere. The viewer or reader response to an episodic work is a big yawn. Because it’s not evident that the work has a direction, we get bored. What’s the point of watching or reading something that doesn’t have a core story?

We like stories. All human cultures have had storytellers. We like the coherence that stories appear to give to a world that isn’t always coherent. We like the lessons in stories. We like the examples in stories. And we like the optimistic message that many stories provide.

Tomorrow, I’ll talk about fixing an episodic book. You can probably guess that it has to go with developing a firm idea of what your story is.

Writing