We have often heard the saying that “knowledge is power.” Great plots are driven by an imbalance of power caused by a lack of knowledge, and that lack creates the tension that keeps the reader engaged.
So, our protagonist lacks knowledge about something. She discovers that someone else knows something. The need for those answers sets our girl on a path, a quest to discover the one who does know.
At first, it seems easy:
- Find the knowledge,
- Achieve the goal,
- Story over in thirty pages.
But we’re writing a novel, so it’s not that easy. The first roadblock is here, also known as the inciting incident. The information gained has done one of several things:
- It led us to a dead end.
- Or it was incomplete.
- Or it was a trap.
My novel could be a romance, mystery, sci-fi adventure, or a fantasy tale. The dark corners of the story must gradually be illuminated by the characters who know stuff.
Finding the knowledge may be fraught with difficulty, but that struggle is the best part. No matter what era, world, or genre a story is set in, an imbalance of knowledge creates an imbalance of power, and the quest to resolve that imbalance IS the story.
This is called asymmetric information, a situation that occurs all the time both in business and politics. Let’s consider that concept.
In real life, asymmetric information creates a situation in which one party in a business transaction has more or superior information compared to another. In business, one individual’s pursuit of pure self-interest can prevent other companies from effectively entering and competing in an industry or market. He/she has the critical knowledge their competitors don’t have, which effectively eliminates the competition. He/she has a monopoly.
A monopoly of information creates a crisis. In real life, the bank could fail, a politician could lose the election, or we could act on assumptions and generally make a fool of ourselves.
A scene that is all action can be confusing if it has no context. If there is no narrator acting as a witness (an omniscient presence, if you will), a properly placed conversation can give the reader the context needed to understand the reason for the action.
A certain amount of context can arrive through an internal monologue, but it must be done in a way that doesn’t leave the reader facing a wall of italics. There are two problems with long mental conversations:
- Italics are daunting in large chunks.
- Internal monologues can become a thinly veiled cover for an info dump.
When we are building a plot, our characters must work with a limited understanding of the overall situation. At the outset, they think they know what is going on, and their actions reflect that belief.
This is good because characters who know everything are boring. Asymmetric information creates a crisis, and that crisis is the real story.
Conversations can work if we keep them on track and don’t wander off the subject. No one wants to read about people nattering on or rehashing old times. Yes, Aunt Jo made terrible spaghetti sauce, but is that really important?
For me as a reader, a story works when the information dribbles down to me piece by piece. That way, our characters must search for the next clue or someone else who knows. That search offers opportunities for mishaps.
Mishaps and dead ends build tension.
HOWEVER … conversations can be a field loaded with landmines. Restrain the urge to dump information. Characters should discuss things that advance the plot in such a way that they:
- Illuminate the speaker’s personality.
- Offer something tantalizing about the quest or perhaps shed a little light on a character that has so far been a mystery.
- Tell us where we should go next.
I struggle with this, too. Foreshadowing is important and keeps the reader reading, but dispersing small but necessary bits of info at the right moment is tricky. This is because I know it all and must fight the urge to share it too early.
Hopefully, with the aid of my beta readers, all these bumps will have been smoothed out by the end of my second draft.
When we write a story, no matter the length, we hope the narrative will keep our readers interested until the end of the book. We lure readers into the scene and reward them with a tiny dose of new information and then drop them into trouble.
I have no idea whether the novel I’m working on today will be an engaging story for a reader or not.
But I’m enjoying writing it.
And that is what writing should be about: writing the story you want to read. Write it to the best of your ability through as many drafts as it takes and be proud of what you do.
My writing projects begin with an idea, a flash of “What if….” Sometimes, that “what if” is inspired by an idea for a character or perhaps a setting. Maybe it was the idea for the plot that had my wheels turning.
I’m writing a fantasy, and I know what must happen next in the novel because the core of this particular story is romance with a side order of mystery. I see how this tale ends, so I am brainstorming the characters’ motivations that lead to the desired ending.
Plots are comprised of action and reaction. I must place events in their path so the plot keeps moving forward. These events will be turning points, places where the characters must re-examine their motives and goals.
Our characters are unreliable witnesses. The way they tell us the story will gloss over their failings. The story happens when they are forced to rise above their weaknesses and face what they fear.
After we survive the middle crisis, we have falling action. We receive the crucial information, the characters regroup, and we experience the unfolding of events leading to the conclusion. The protagonist’s problems are resolved, and we (the readers) are offered a good ending and closure.
These small arcs of action, reaction, and calm push the plot and ensure it doesn’t stall. Each scene is an opportunity to ratchet up the tension and increase the overall conflict that drives the story.
Transition scenes must also have an arc supporting the cathedral that is our novel. They will begin, rise to a peak as the necessary information is discussed, and ebb when the characters move on.
When we write a story, no matter the length, we hope the narrative will keep our readers interested until the end of the book. We lure readers into the scene and reward them with a tiny dose of new information.
In literary terms, this uneven distribution of knowledge is called asymmetric information. We see this all the time in the corporate world.
Jared is hilarious, charming, naïve, a bit cocky, and completely unaware that he’s an arrogant jackass. He is a young man who is exceptionally good at everything and is happy to tell you about it. Jared has no clue that his boasting holds him back, as no one wants to work with him.
When I started writing this story, I had the core conflict: Jared’s misguided desire to be important. I had the surface quest: rescuing the kidnapped kid. I had the true quest: Jared learning to laugh at himself and developing a little humility.
assion for the dirty habit of writing every day. They are joining the ranks of the old pros, the people who “do NaNo” every year whether they expect to be published or not.
In my mind, novels are like Gothic Cathedrals–arcs of stone supporting other arches until you have a structure that can withstand the centuries. Each scene is a tiny arc that supports and strengthens the construct that is our plot.
Plot points are driven by the characters who have critical knowledge. The fact that some characters are working with limited information creates tension.
Life in the Realm of Fantasy 