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Making a story work
Kay Kenyon (http://www.kaykenyon.com) has written a terrific take on "the story problem", the heart of every short story or novel. I don't know if anyone's ever said it better. This is great advice for beginning (and not so beginning) writers. She says:
Last night Tom and I went dancing. I had a lovely time, but naturally I was thinking about writing. I thought how fun dancing is when there is a pattern: swing and salsa, for example. You'd think we'd grow tired of the patterns, but no.
And this is like stories. Readers enjoy the patterns, and rather count on them.
The pattern I'm thinking about today is engaging the story problem. Lately I've been reading a book that's trying my patience. I like the characters and interesting things are happening, but I feel uneasy. "Where," I ask myself, "is all this going?" Well, the author hasn't yet clued me in as to the direction of this novel. Of all the possible plot vectors, which one frames this story? In other words, what is the story problem?
Story problem is so fundamental that it applies even to dinner conversation. Think of the last time a long-winded friend began telling an anecdote. Weren't you impatient to know the point?
Perhaps the author will present one soon, but I can't help wanting an early assurance that it's a problem I care about; that it is a story and not just an exploratory tour. Story problem is such a basic component of fiction that reader expectations are high: the story problem must be deep, complex, and believable. Not to mention present. Therefore, let's bring it on as soon as possible.
The magic of the story problem is that it frames the story and lends characters' actions their fullest meaning. This is because the writer has cunningly selected a story problem that will reveal character and do so in ever-tightening spirals of effort and reaction. This interface between plot and character provides our best opportunity for a memorable, gripping story.
Therefore, consider revealing the story problem no later than page ten. Or for heaven's sake, by page forty. And then continue to keep the characters engaged with it. The pattern suggests that we make only sparing use of plot developments that, while interesting, aren't germaine to the overall story. Because if you do indulge such fictional flailings, to the degree that you succumb you will at best slow the pace and at worst create confusion.
A caveat. This is a pattern not a rule. Sometimes multiple plots, books in a series, or other fictional dictates recommend a slowly emerging story problem. Those first chapters have to be really good, then. So perhaps it's best not to try this on your first few novels.
Last night Tom and I went dancing. I had a lovely time, but naturally I was thinking about writing. I thought how fun dancing is when there is a pattern: swing and salsa, for example. You'd think we'd grow tired of the patterns, but no.
And this is like stories. Readers enjoy the patterns, and rather count on them.
The pattern I'm thinking about today is engaging the story problem. Lately I've been reading a book that's trying my patience. I like the characters and interesting things are happening, but I feel uneasy. "Where," I ask myself, "is all this going?" Well, the author hasn't yet clued me in as to the direction of this novel. Of all the possible plot vectors, which one frames this story? In other words, what is the story problem?
Story problem is so fundamental that it applies even to dinner conversation. Think of the last time a long-winded friend began telling an anecdote. Weren't you impatient to know the point?
Perhaps the author will present one soon, but I can't help wanting an early assurance that it's a problem I care about; that it is a story and not just an exploratory tour. Story problem is such a basic component of fiction that reader expectations are high: the story problem must be deep, complex, and believable. Not to mention present. Therefore, let's bring it on as soon as possible.
The magic of the story problem is that it frames the story and lends characters' actions their fullest meaning. This is because the writer has cunningly selected a story problem that will reveal character and do so in ever-tightening spirals of effort and reaction. This interface between plot and character provides our best opportunity for a memorable, gripping story.
Therefore, consider revealing the story problem no later than page ten. Or for heaven's sake, by page forty. And then continue to keep the characters engaged with it. The pattern suggests that we make only sparing use of plot developments that, while interesting, aren't germaine to the overall story. Because if you do indulge such fictional flailings, to the degree that you succumb you will at best slow the pace and at worst create confusion.
A caveat. This is a pattern not a rule. Sometimes multiple plots, books in a series, or other fictional dictates recommend a slowly emerging story problem. Those first chapters have to be really good, then. So perhaps it's best not to try this on your first few novels.
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