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Does your story have a plot?

plot chainEvery story has events. Stuff happens. But a group of events happening to the same people doesn’t necessarily constitute a “plot.” For a story to have a plot, the events must be related through cause-and-effect and build to a climax.

Do stories have to have a climax?

If you’re using a linear story structure, the short answer is yes. If you’re using a linear chronology within your story, the answer is double yes.

plot chain labeled
Most stories use a linear structure as well as a linear timeline—the events of the story occur in chronological order.

However, events merely happening in order doesn’t make a plot. The events must also be linked by cause and effect. For example, as E.M. Forster said,

The king died and then the queen died is a story. The king died, and then queen died of grief is a plot.

That little phrase, “of grief,” makes a world of difference. Our brains might fill in the causal link between the events of the first “story,” but that’s actually a logical fallacy (one of my faves: post hoc ergo propter hoc, after this therefore because of this). There could be any number of reasons why a couple might die in succession: perhaps they both had the plague or were hit by falling rocks. (Heck, in this single-sentence story, we don’t even know if the events happened close together!)

“Of grief” links the first and second events as cause and effect; it turns the two from coincident events into connected events. The next event occurs because of the previous one.

cadena rotaWithout this cause and effect link, the events of our story don’t build on one another. They don’t move a story forward. They’re just an account of people doing one thing, then another. At some point, a lack of cause-and-effect gets aggravating, since the events of the story don’t actually have logical relationships. They don’t have anything to do with one another except that they’re happening to the same characters.

Using cause and effect to build to a climax

Another integral part of any linear structure is the ultimate climax. Our plot events must be linked in cause-and-effect chains that build the intensity and stakes to the final, ultimate moment of confrontation between the protagonist and the antagonistic force (external, internal, natural, or any combination of the above).

Cape Disappointment is DisappointingI have read way too many stories that have a series of chronological events that may or may not be causally linked, but that never build to this ultimate moment of the climax. But the climax is indispensable in linear structure. It’s that moment that shows us what our characters are made of, what they’ve learned in our story, how they’ve grown. With the climax, we see the reason why every event in the story was significant. Without a climax, none of them are, and the story just sort of . . . stops. It’s the climax that ultimately gives our story meaning in a linear structure.

But my story jumps around in time.

Awesome! But a nonlinear timeline doesn’t exempt you from the requirements of telling a satisfying story with structure. The vast majority of stories use linear structure, even if they don’t use linear chronology.

Your jumping around in time narrative (time traveling or just nonlinear) can still build toward a climax. Movies like Memento and books such as the Mind Games series by Kiersten White play around with a linear timeline, interspersing scenes from the past. Those scenes from the past build tension and inform—but they don’t get in the way of building to a climax, the final confrontation.

Why structure

Good stories use structure; excellent stories use structure to their advantage. As brilliant author Jennifer Crusie puts it in a blog post that I’ve pondered for years:

Structure isn’t just a way to tell a story, it gives meaning to the story, it informs and intensifies the story, it says “This is what is important here, this is what you need to pay attention to.” Most of the time, most stories need linear structure[.]

Here’s a simple litmus test: if your story isn’t composed of events that are linked by cause-and-effect building to a final confrontation, you may not have a “plot.” Do you need one? If you want to sell commercial fiction and you aren’t a master of alternate story structures, usually.

The good news, however, is that you might be able to revise your way to one! Remember:the best way

Revision is your chance to make the events of your story make sense and carry significance for your character and your readers!

Photo credits: chain—Legozilla, broken chain—Javier, Cape Disappointment—Aaron, map image courtesy of The Journey 1972 (South America “addicted”), all via Flickr/CC

Character sympathy study: Elizabeth Bennet, Pride and Prejudice

Pride and Prejudice is a literary classic. But can you find the principles of character sympathy in a two-hundred-year-old novel? You can find the full text of Pride and Prejudice online with Project Gutenberg.

484px-Jane_Austen_coloured_versionA true Regency novel (the formal Regency period only lasted nine years until the Prince Regent ascended to the throne), Pride and Prejudice focuses heavily upon society and the social interactions of a wide circle of people. It’s written in omniscient POV, enabling the narrator to convey more information about all of the characters than any one of them would be privy to in the course of a story. Of course, with such a broad focus, it takes a while to really establish Elizabeth Bennet as the main protagonist of the story.

She’s introduced in the first chapter, which focuses on her parents discussing the arrival of Mr. Bingley, a “single man in possession of a good fortune” (who “must be in want of a wife”). Elizabeth’s father pretends he won’t go to meet their new neighbor, not even to improve the marriage prospects of his five daughters, and will send his wife to meet him instead. He says he’ll write a letter to go with her:

“I will send a few lines by you to assure him of my hearty consent to his marrying which ever he chuses of the girls; though I must throw in a good word for my little Lizzy.”

“I desire you will do no such thing. Lizzy is not a bit better than the others; and I am sure she is not half so handsome as Jane, nor half so good humoured as Lydia. But you are always giving her the preference.”

“They have none of them much to recommend them,” replied he; “they are all silly and ignorant like other girls; but Lizzy has something more of quickness than her sisters.”

Elizabeth is off-stage in the first chapter and only has three lines of dialogue in the second chapter, so our first real encounter with her character for a while is through her parents discussing her. In this direct characterization, we’re told she isn’t as pretty or as good humored as her sisters, but her father favors her because of her “quickness.” This wit, which we do get to see throughout the book, is probably her chief strength.

Elizabeth’s first real scene comes in chapter. Mr. Bingley has brought his friend, Mr. Darcy, to his estate and to a ball. At first, Darcy makes quite a stir (being rich, noble and handsome), but when the crowd sees how conceited he is, the tide of their favor turns against him. Especially Mrs. Bennet, after Mr. Bingley invited Mr. Darcy to dance with Elizabeth. Darcy “looked for a moment at Elizabeth, till catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly said, ‘She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men.'” And he knows she can hear him.

She won’t allow herself to be crushed by the judgment of a man nobody likes anyway, of course. But this embarrassment at being slighted is the beginning of her struggles. More subtly, her struggles are woven throughout as we also get to see others’ harsh judgments of her and her family. This use of dramatic irony can be an advantage of omniscient POV.

Throughout the next few chapters, we see two defining features of Elizabeth: her wit and her prejudice. She’s quick to judge not only Darcy by Mr. Bingley and his sisters quite harshly. (While she’s off-scene, it does seem that this judgment, at least of the women, is justified). The prejudice sets up her character weakness (but that’s a post for another time!).

4066326120_1380d87422_mIn my model of character sympathy, to generate full reader identification, a character needs to have struggles, strengths and sacrifice. Elizabeth shows this last characteristic when her older sister takes ill while going for a short visit to the Bingleys and must stay there to convalesce. When word reaches them the next day, Elizabeth is concerned enough for her sister to walk the three miles to the Bingleys’ and stay there to care for her. The walk, she insists, is nothing, but the exertion puts her into a bit of disarray, especially to be seen by society people (who are already pretty conceited about how much better they are than all these country folk). But her sister’s welfare is more important to Elizabeth than anyone’s opinion.

Although we typically focus on establishing character sympathy at the beginning of a novel, these forces of character sympathy continue throughout Pride and Prejudice. Elizabeth juggles her often-inappropriate mother and her own tendencies to let her wit run wild, and is embarrassed by Mr. Darcy even more, until she ultimately must sacrifice her own pride and admit her prejudice—and that she was wrong in her judgment.

What do you think? What else makes Elizabeth Bennet a sympathetic heroine?

Photo credits: University of Texas, Lily Monster via Flickr & CC