I plot my stories in advance, but once I begin writing, the characters sometimes take over. The plot veers far from what I had intended when I began writing it. Each time that happens, the code words we use to tell the story find their way into my manuscript, marking the places I need to revisit and rewrite to show the action. (See last week’s post, The Second Draft: Decoding My Mental Shorthand #writing | Life in the Realm of Fantasy (conniejjasperson.com).
This happens because my characters have agency and sometimes run amok. Thus, in the second draft, I examine the freedom I give my characters to introduce their own actions and reactions within the story.
Usually, the ending remains the same as proposed, no matter what the characters do. However, the path to that place can diverge, making the middle quite different from what was initially intended.
This is called giving your characters “agency.” Agency is an integral aspect of the creative process. It allows the written characters to become real, the way Pinocchio wanted to be a real boy and not a puppet.
I want their uniqueness to remain central to the story, even when their motives and actions diverge from the original plot outline.
In literary terms, “agency” is the ability of a character to surprise the author and, ultimately, the reader. If you plan every action and response when you are writing them, the experience of writing might feel canned and boring.
Plotting, for me, means setting out an arc of events for a story that I hope to write. I do this in advance, creating it in the form of a list in a new Excel workbook that is the bible for that universe. My outline workbook will contain several spreadsheets. On one page, I create the characters and give them personality traits. On another, I list the order of events that I think will form the arc of the story. Another page will have a glossary of words and names that are unique to that story. There will be maps and calendars to help keep things logical.
Some authors use whiteboards and sticky notes, and still others use Scrivener—a program my style of thinking doesn’t mesh with. Google Sheets works well, too, and it’s free. The way you plot your stories is up to you.
When my characters begin doing things that weren’t planned, the outline evolves. That way, I don’t lose control of the plot and go off on a side quest to nowhere. That is when I get to know my characters as people.
When the writing commences, the characters make choices and say things that surprise me. They can do this because I allow them agency.
Each character will be left with several consequential choices to make in every situation that arises along the timeline. I consider the personality and allow the characters’ reactions to fit who they are.
No matter how they respond, they will be placed in situations where they have no choice but to go forward. After all, I am their creator, the deity of their universe. I have an outline that predestines them to specific fates, and nothing they can do will stop that train.
The consequences my characters face for their choices affect the atmosphere and mood of the story as it emerges. Think about it—if there are no consequences for a character’s bad decisions, everyone goes home unscathed. What sort of story is that? Why bother writing at all?
Let’s look at both the meanings and synonyms for the word consequences.
So now, let’s consider agency and the importance of choice. How will the consequences of their decisions affect our characters’ lives? After all, a story isn’t interesting without a few self-inflicted complications.
A story most fantasy authors are familiar with is J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit. Let’s have a closer look at Bilbo’s choices and his path to becoming the eccentric, eleventy-one-year-old hobbit who vanishes (literally), leaving everything, including the One Ring, to Frodo.
In the morning, after the unexpected (and unwanted) guests leave, he has two choices. He can stay in the safety of Bag End or hare off on a journey into the unknown. He chooses to run after the dwarves, and so begins the story of how a respectable hobbit embarked on a new career as a burglar and became a hero in the process.
Bilbo comes to the huts of the raft elves by J.R.R. Tolkien
The consequences of Bilbo’s decision will shape his entire life afterward. Where he was once a staid country squire, the pillar of respectability who had inherited a comfortable income and existence, he is now expected to steal an important treasure from a dragon.
At the outset, that particular job doesn’t seem real, and he can’t imagine doing it. More immediate problems beset him. First of all, he has no clue about how a successful burglar works. He knows better than anyone that he is completely unfit for the task.
Second, he’s always been well-fed, highly respected, and not inclined to physical labor. Now, he is a novice on the expedition, so his opinions carry no weight. Not only that, meals are scant by his standards, and they must do way too much walking.
Bilbo’s long-suppressed desire for adventure emerges early when the company encounters a group of trolls. He is supposed to be a thief, so he is sent to investigate a strange fire in a forest. Reluctantly, he agrees. Upon reaching the blaze, he observes that it is a cookfire for a group of trolls.
Bilbo must make a choice. The smart thing would be to turn around at that point and warn the dwarves that they are in mortal danger. However, Bilbo’s bruised ego takes over, and he chooses to do something to prove his worth.
“He was very much alarmed as well as disgusted; he wished himself a hundred miles away—yet somehow he could not go straight back to Thorin and Company empty-handed.” [1]
Bilbo’s desire to impress the Dwarves causes him to make regrettable decisions. His choice leads to everyone nearly getting eaten, which is a negative consequence.
Fortunately, they are rescued by Gandalf. While he is hiding, Bilbo discovers several historically important weapons. One of them is Sting, a blade that fits Bilbo perfectly as a sword. This is a positive consequence, as the blade is crucial to Bilbo’s story and later to Frodo’s story.
It does not acquire its name until later in the adventure, after Bilbo, lost in the forest of Mirkwood, uses it to kill a giant spider and rescue the Dwarves. This is when Bilbo’s decisions become more thoughtful, and his courageous side begins to emerge.
Choices and consequences, both negative and positive, shape Bilbo’s character.
Sometimes, the decisions our characters make as we write surprise us. But if those choices make the story too easy, they should be discarded.
The best, most exciting moments I’ve had as an author are when my characters surprise me and take over the story. I can’t describe the feeling of exultation I experience when my characters choose to take the story in a different, much better direction than I had planned.
Ultimately, they end at the place I intended for them at the outset, but they always do it their own way and with their own style.
Credits and Attributions:
[1] Quote from The Hobbit, or There and Back Again, by J.R.R. Tolkien, published 1937 by George Allen & Unwin, Ltd.
Artist: Pieter Brueghel the Elder (1526/1530–1569)
It follows that certain words become a kind of mental shorthand, small packets of letters that contain a world of images and meaning for us. Code words are the author’s multi-tool—a compact tool that combines several individual functions in a single unit. One word, one packet of letters will serve many purposes and convey a myriad of mental images.
I want to avoid that sin in my work, but what are my code words? What words are being inadvertently overused as descriptors? A good way to discover this is to make a word cloud. The words that see the most screen time will be the largest. 
endured
Sometimes, the only thing that works is the brief image of a smile. Nothing is more boring than reading a story where a person’s facial expressions take center stage. As a reader, I want to know what is happening inside our characters and can be put off by an exaggerated outward display.
If you don’t have it already, a book you might want to invest in is 
Artist: Alfred Thompson Bricher (1837–1908)
Childcare was always an issue. Sometimes, during
I was divorced from hubby number three in 1997, and oddly enough, things became much easier financially. I was able to get by with only one job, even while raising my last teenager. (See? Everyone has a soap opera life, even famously unknown authors.)
Artist: Samuel Bough (1822–1878)
Another arc takes the protagonist on a journey that can end several different ways, all of them taking our characters down a winding path with many choices, roads not taken. They also are altered by their experiences for good or ill.
Knowing my intended word count helps me create a story, from drabbles to novels. For me, it works in stories with a traditional arc as well as those with a circular arc.
In a circular narrative, the story begins at point A, takes the protagonist through life-changing events, and brings them home, ending where it started. The starting and ending points are the same, and the characters return home, but they are fundamentally changed by the story’s events.
Word choices are essential in showing a world and creating a believable atmosphere when limited to only a small word count. I had challenged myself to write a story that told both sides of a frightening encounter in 1000 words, give or take a few. I wanted to expand on the theme of dragons and use it to show two aspects of a place whose national symbol is the Red Dragon (Welsh: Y Ddraig Goch).
Artist: 
Most of my novels and short stories begin life as exchanges of dialogue between two characters. Their conversations shed light on what each character’s role in the story might be.
Action: She comes down for coffee. He holds a notebook, gathers pens, and stands.
Artist: Jacob van Ruisdael (1628/1629–1682)
Life in the Realm of Fantasy 