A peek into my plotting process
Originally posted on
Work in
Progress on June 20, 2006
This article comes in the form of a
question from Heather Harper. Heather wrote, “I am curious as to how you
know you have an idea that will sustain a novel. Do your ideas come to
you as a mini-movie in your mind? Or is it just something more like a
one line blurb? How do you turn those into workable plots?”
And the answer is…probably not what you hoped to hear. But since I'm a
big believer in the truth, I’ll give it a shot. Here goes…
I’ve never had an idea for a plot that I thought would sustain a novel.
Not once. Seriously. Not when I first start a book, anyway.
Some of you may remember me blogging a while back about how writers have
different strengths. I think it was the Writers vs. Storytellers entry
that caused all the controversy. But my point here is that for some
writers, plotting is a strong point. A starting point.
But I’m not one of those writers.
When I begin a book (or rather, an outline, which is how I always
start), I have nothing in mind but a character. A single, strong-willed,
female, first person character. Fortunately, much like Athena, this
character typically bursts forth from me almost fully formed. And what I
don’t know about her I figure out quickly, because her back-story comes
next. After I meet her, she tells me her life story (little of which
will ever make it into the actual book), and I get to see what and who
in her past made her the person she is today. At that point, I also get
to see what’s missing from her personality. How she needs to develop in
the course of the story.
For Faythe, that missing element was maturity, and a sense of
responsibility. (For details, read Stray, from Mira, June '07)
But by this point, though I know a great deal about my MC (for the
purpose of this essay, we’ll call her Jane. Original, huh?), I know
absolutely nothing about the plot. I have no idea what Jane will do to
keep a reader’s attention.
“But Rachel,” you say, “Surely plotting comes next, right?”
Wrong.
World-building comes next. (In case anyone’s forgotten, or is joining us
for the first time, I write Urban Fantasy, and like any fantasy
subgenre, world-building is the cornerstone of the story. The very
foundation.) After all, how can I decide what Jane will do to entertain
you, if I don’t know what the options are.
For instance, take Faythe. (And again, I’m reminded how much easier this
would be if anyone had actually read Stray…) Much of Faythe’s misery
comes from the conflict between what she wants, and what her society
wants for her. And that society is very different from the ones you and
I exist in. Enter world-building. It’s my job as the author to make sure
that Faythe’s world not only makes sense, but that it feels real. (And
to give credit where credit is due, both my mentor and my editor played
and continue to play a large part in teaching me to do that. Wonderful
women. Really.)
But I digress. My point is that until I’ve built a world for poor bored
Jane, I have no idea what her options are. I don’t know who there is for
her to love/hate/fight (sometimes I can get all of those in with one
secondary character!). I don’t know what her obstacles are. She could be
killed by exposure to sunlight. She could be dependant on the full moon
in order to transform into an angry, stomping were-elephant. She could
need a blood sacrifice to raise the dead. She could require a special
pair of glittery red pumps to travel back to her own land and time. None
of which apply to Faythe and her world, but hopefully you get my point.
I don’t know what will happen in the book, until I know what’s possible
in the world.
“So, then do you plot out the story?” you ask.
No, grasshopper. Not quite yet.
Once I have Jane in her sparkly red shoes, clenching a sharpened stake
in one hand, a vial of holy water in the other, a straightened paperclip
in her mouth, and a magical talisman around her neck…we’re still missing
something.
What?
Other characters. Friends. Sidekicks. Family. Big bad villains. Minor
villains dressed up like sweet little girls in bonnets and MaryJanes.
Creatures. Red herrings. You name it. We have a world, and the rules of
engagement. Now we need a cast of characters.
So…enter John (you knew that was coming, right?), our tall, dark and
burly, I don’t-need-love-or-sissy-bandaids computer tech worker by day,
zombie slayer by night hero. (And unlike a romance book, no, he does not
get his own POV. We’ll only see him through Jane’s sarcastic,
quick-witted, cynical eyes.)
Now, (Now?, you ask. Yes, now.) comes the plot. Beginning with the
conflict. Here goes:
How can I make Jane’s goal and John’s goal conflict (and keep in mind
that conflict is the most important part in any story)? How ‘bout
this…Jane raises zombies for a living. Dirty work, yes, but better than
punching tickets at the Cineplex, right? But…John is morally and
ethically opposed to zombies being anyplace but in the ground. Six feet
down. And completely inanimate. It’s his Catholic upbringing. Maybe he
and an army of younger, orthodox siblings spend their evenings
re-interring zombies, armed with only an axe and a Yarmulke.
Voila! Instant conflict. She must raise the zombie, he must kill the
zombie. And, to up the tension level, let’s say that Jane must raise the
zombie in question not just to earn a paycheck, but to…I don’t know,
let’s really shoot for the sun. She has to raise this one to save the
world. (I don’t know how that helps keep humanity safe yet. It doesn’t
matter. We can figure that out later.) But John doesn’t understand. He
thinks he’s doing the right thing. Until Jane makes him see the error of
his way, through lots of argument, more than a little hand-to-hand
combat, and a little…gentler persuasion.
Now the two must work together to save the world from…whatever threatens
it. Maybe they have to find a specific zombie. I don’t know. It’s
getting silly now. So much for my simple example.
My point was…wait, did I have one?
Yes. Yes, I did. I am not gifted with fully formed plot ideas I just
have to develop into a book. Ever. Not even partially formed plot ideas.
All I have are characters (tons and tons of characters), and it’s up to
me to give them something tense/exciting/painful/desperate—and most of
all, entertaining—to do.
So, there you have it Heather, and anyone else out there who’s
interested. That’s how I plot.
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