Good morning, everyone. I hope your week was swell. Me, I’m still pushing my hair out of my eyes, blinking blearily, and wondering whether or not it’s Wednesday.
But onward! Mush! Mush! *cracks whip*
Story has rules just like painting and drawing have rules, just like music has rules. In all art, you must first know the rules* before you can break them effectively–if you even want to break them. Here are a few (just a few) that have helped me.
The Story May Not Belong To The Hero. As Karen Fisher says, the story belongs to the character who changes the most. It’s okay for the story not to really belong to your hero. You just need to understand who the story really belongs to so you can provide resolution. Or you could rewrite the whole damn thing, making “the character it really belongs to” your protagonist. Your choice.
Of course, spending time thinking about who the story really belongs to in the beginning stages can save you a lot of grief. I’m just sayin’.
The Arc Of Doom. Stories follow a pattern/arc. First, there is a situation in equilibrium, at rest. Then something happens to smack the situation out of equilibrium. There is conflict while the situation tries to resettle itself. There is a crisis, then the situation settles into a new equilibrium.
Think about the equilibrium at the start of the book and at the end. Think about what the crisis point is. This crisis/catharsis is mostly what gives a satisfying emotional experience to the Reader, which is what you want. In order to manage that impact, you need to think about where it’s going to hit.
Risk, Danger, Cost. If there is no real risk to the characters, there is no danger; there is also no cost for overcoming the obstacles. Without risk, danger, and cost, the story is not going to have as effective a crisis. If there isn’t a risk or a cost, the characters are just doing things to do things, and the story runs a much bigger chance of collapsing like an unfortunate quiche. You cannot be afraid of hurting your characters.
Come on. They’re not your friends. They’re your characters. Rough them up. Make them risk something. It’s all fun and games until some character loses an eye. Then it’s serious story.
Made To Be Broken, Sometimes. Sometimes you can play with the rules. But be absolutely sure you know what rules you’re playing with and what the intended effect of breaking them is. A great deal of thought and care must be taken with breaking rules. When done right, it’s what art is all about. When it’s done wrong, it breaks a story–sometimes irretrievably.
There are few things as hair-tearingly frustrating as that.
You don’t have to be a slavish follower of convention. A certain amount of internalizing and analyzing the rules of the road will let you decide how to break them in the way that best serves the story–or, more commonly and usefully, how to use them to uncover the heart of the story.
Oddly, the above are rules I rarely break, but just having them inside my head while I structure a story is neverendingly helpful. The biggest part of breaking rules is in grammar, especially for dialogue. People rarely speak grammatically, and the way a character breaks grammar rules while speaking is a cheap, easy, and effective way to characterize. You get a lot of bang for your buck in the violation of grammar conventions.
But that’s another blog post. Be safe out there, my friends. *ebil grin* Except for with your characters.
* Sometimes they’re not rules, they’re more like guidelines. Still, disregard at your peril, my dear word-pirates.
and I sit in my car and shake my head at his incredible writing. His gift for description of place, people, time is beyond anything I’ve ever read. He has such a gift that I believe is untouchable.
Let’s talk heroes.
I’ve always loved to read, so it was no surprise to anyone when I eventually decided to write a book of my own. When I did, I attacked it head on. I planned, I worked, I outlined more than any woman should. The end result? I wrote three mysteries that didn’t sell.
