Tag Archives: plot point

March 4, 2024 · 6:00 am

#writing good mayhem: points of no return

Most engineering disasters (and divorces) are preceded by one or more points of no return. The average hydroelectric dam is a miracle of applied physics, modern construction materials and knowledge, and years of engineering and planning.

writing craft functions of the scene But what happens when a few insignificant cracks appear in that construction? What is the point of no return for the people living downstream?

Wikipedia says:

Dams are considered “installations containing dangerous forces” under International humanitarian law due to the massive impact of a possible destruction on the civilian population and the environment. Dam failures are comparatively rare, but can cause immense damage and loss of life when they occur. In 1975 the failure of the Banqiao Reservoir Dam and other dams in Henan Province, China caused more casualties than any other dam failure in history. The disaster killed an estimated 171,000 people and 11 million people lost their homes. [1]

A chain of events is set into motion when even a tiny, seemingly inconsequential mistake is made in the planning or construction of a hydroelectric dam.

Despite the diligence of the engineers, the construction workers, and the maintenance personnel, the flaw may go unseen until it is too late, and the dam experiences catastrophic failure.

If this is the plot for an epic disaster film or novel, where do we feature the first point of no return. What will be the opening incident from which there is no turning back?

Book- onstruction-sign copy We must identify this plot point, and by mentioning it in passing, we make it subtly clear to the reader that this moment in time will have far-reaching consequences. Knowing something might be wrong and seeing the workers unaware of a problem ratchets up the tension.

For the writer, the moment cracks appear in the dam, the dangers previously hinted at are put into action, and the story is off and running.

I’ve faced personal disasters many times in my real life, unpleasant things that could have been avoided had I noticed the cracks in the metaphoric dam. When you look at history, humanity seems hardwired to ignore the “turn back now” signs.

In every novel, a point of no return, large or small, comes into play. Let’s look at the points of no return, moments when disaster could have been averted in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel of reckless excess and gray morality, The Great Gatsby.

Nick Carraway, the unreliable narrator, leaves the Midwest and moves to New York. He sells bonds, so ambition and greener pastures drive him there. His new neighbor is a mysterious millionaire, Jay Gatsby.
Nick reconnects with a cousin, Daisy, and her husband, Tom Buchanan. They introduce him to Jordan, and the two begin an affair of convenience. It emerges as the narrative progresses that neither is entirely straight sexually.
Nick attends a party at Gatsby’s mansion and is intrigued by the man and his history. Jay Gatsby is the protagonist, but we only know him through Nick’s eyes, and Nick is a bit bedazzled by him. This bias is critical to how the reader perceives the story.
Nick tacitly accepts Tom’s affair with Myrtle despite his utter dislike of the man.
Nick facilitates Gatsby’s reunion with Daisy.

Of course, the infidelities come out. Tom loves Daisy but won’t let go of Myrtle, whose husband is unaware of the affair. Daisy declares she loves both Tom and Gatsby.

That doesn’t go well.

Later, while driving Gatsby’s car, Daisy strikes and kills her husband’s mistress, Myrtle, who is standing on the highway because she thinks Tom is driving the car and she is waiting for him.

Rolls-Royce_20_HP_Drophead_Coupe_1927 Fitzgerald is deliberately unclear if this act is deliberate or accidental—the murkiness of Daisy’s intent and the chaos of that incident lend an atmosphere of uncertainty to the narrative. If Nick had turned back at any of the above-listed points, Daisy wouldn’t have been driving Gatsby’s yellow Rolls Royce and wouldn’t have killed Myrtle in a hit-and-run accident.

The tragedy of this dive into the decadence and dissolution of the 1920s is this: Nick knows he could have changed the outcome if he had turned back at any time before he reunited Daisy and Gatsby. That was the point where nothing good was going to come of the whole debacle. Something terrible was bound to happen, but Myrtle, poor silly woman that she was, wouldn’t have died.

Tom Buchannon wouldn’t have sought revenge by telling Myrtle’s husband, George, that Gatsby owned the car that had run her down, implying Gatsby was driving. George wouldn’t have murdered Jay Gatsby and then killed himself.

f scott fitzgerald quote When I am writing a first draft, the crucial turning points don’t always make themselves apparent. It’s only when I have begun revisions that I see the opportunities for mayhem that my subconscious mind has embedded in the narrative.

If I am paying attention, those scenes become pivotal.

And sometimes, scenes I thought were important (because I was hyper-focused on the wrong story-within-the-story) end up being discarded. I don’t always see what the story is really about until someone in my writing group points out where I’ve missed an opportunity.

Credits and Attributions:

[1] Wikipedia contributors, “Dam failure,” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Dam_failure&oldid=943367090 (accessed March 2, 2024).

IMAGE: Wikimedia Commons contributors, “File:Rolls-Royce 20 HP Drophead Coupe 1927.jpg,” Wikimedia Commons, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?title=File:Rolls-Royce_20_HP_Drophead_Coupe_1927.jpg&oldid=824489843 (accessed March 2, 2024).

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June 7, 2023 · 6:00 am

The story arc – plot points, a series of life-changing events #amwriting

Every good story has an arc to it. It begins at a place of change and is created by one event following another until it comes to a place where the narrative is concluded.

MyWritingLife2021 The inciting incident is followed by a series of plot points, places where complications are introduced into the narrative.

Real life is the same way. As many of you know, this last year has been one of change for me and my husband. If I were writing the story of this year, it would begin with the inciting incident which occurred a year ago this last week. My husband was involved in a car wreck which ultimately led to his diagnosis of Parkinson’s disease. That was a bad day for us, but thankfully he wasn’t seriously injured, and we got it handled.

Just as in a novel, there was fallout from the inciting incident. Unfortunately, it meant the protagonist’s spouse could no longer drive. That would be the second plot point because it meant all plans for the summer had to be rearranged on the fly.

The opening setting for this story is a small town in an exceedingly rural part of Thurston County. One must travel at least ten miles in any direction to find another city. After sundown, you must drive on narrow, winding, pitch-black country roads. I, the protagonist in my story, suffer from severe night blindness, which meant we had to return home before sundown, putting a real crimp in our social life.

The third pinch point comes in the sudden amount of traveling we had to do for physical therapy and neurology appointments. All medical services are twenty miles north in the Olympia area, as are the full-service grocery stores and a multitude of services we now need. It was like having a day job again. We would get up, have breakfast, and hit the road.

The story’s midpoint comes when, in January, we examined our options. Ultimately, we decided the best solution was to sell our home of eighteen years and move twenty miles north, back to Olympia.

The plot arc of the year had crested the midpoint, and now it was hurtling toward the next complication—trying to pack up, get the house ready to sell, and be a contributing grandparent to the family.

That was not easy.

Three family members have faced serious health problems since January. For one, epilepsy reared its head like the curse it is, and he landed in the hospital again. For the first time, I wasn’t any help other than offering a supportive voice on the other end of a phone call.

medical symbol Major surgeries happened for the other two, and I was many miles away to the south, getting our house on the market. But our sons and daughters are entering middle age, and our older grandchildren are adults. Despite our worries, our granddaughters proved they were mature and more than capable of handling their lives.

And they all do so, brilliantly.

This is the final battle. The protagonists have been forced to let go and be the caring sounding board whenever one is needed.

And now, we approach the happy ending. The protagonists have managed to get packed up and moved by the deadline. Every task was done, and the house was ready to put on the market by the self-imposed deadline. As of today, our two characters have received some good offers and accepted one. Now they have to hope everything goes as well as possible and the deal closes by the end of June as it should.

Is there an epilogue? Of course. What is the setting for this final chapter? We find our couple in a small apartment in an urban village.

Lucky Coffee Cup The protagonists are settling into the new neighborhood. One of the niftiest things about their community is the Starbucks—and yes, I did say Starbucks. The owners of the Chambers Prairie Grange building took a huge risk, choosing to renovate rather than tear it down. It was built in 1908 when this area was outside the city limits and was long abandoned, falling into serious disrepair. This Starbucks has the feel and ambiance of a mom-and-pop coffee shop with plenty of comfortable, widely spaced seating placed with a post-pandemic eye. The original flooring has been refurbished, along with the original walls. Even the old Chambers Prairie Grange sign is hung inside there.

Moving to this neighborhood is coming full circle for me, the protagonist. I worked for a large rhododendron nursery in 1989, and the greenhouses I worked in were on the very site where my apartment building currently sits. Across the street from my windows is the property where my uncle and aunt lived in 1966. A large condominium complex is going up where my uncle’s house was, nearing completion. Some friends of ours have bought one of the condos.

From our windows, we have a view of the old grange hall. Back in the day, my ex-hubby’s heavy metal band played there for keggers. Attendees paid two dollars at the door. One dollar went to the band, the other to the host to pay for the beer. (No one underage allowed, no exceptions.) They played many a night there in the early 1970s before the grange hall was shut down and abandoned.

The epilogue of our story shows how life is much simpler for our protagonists. It shows the point of view character, me, admitting how she could get used to the lack of stress and how it feels like a vacation.

The story is an arc that begins at a place of change (the inciting incident), details the complicating events (pinch points), and concludes at a place of relative calm and introspection (the epilogue).

boxLIRF04182023 I find that writing is easy here. Creativity comes in bursts, and I feel good about my writing. We have pared our possessions down to the point that they don’t possess us—something you don’t realize is a problem until you are faced with serious downsizing.

With my husband’s diagnosis of Parkinson’s, we have entered a new phase of life. Our children tell us we have earned our stress-free life, and it’s time to enjoy it.

Yes, winter was long and hard, but now summer is here, and the days are long and bright. So, let the good times roll—real life is unscripted, unpredictable, and no matter the plot points, life is always good.

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Tagged as #writerlife, My Writing Life, plot point, the inciting incident, the story arc, writing

December 15, 2014 · 5:48 am

A Christmas Carol–what I’ve learned from Charles Dickens

Charles Dickens was a master at creating marvelous hooks and using heavy foreshadowing. Let’s take the first line of my favorite Christmas story of all time, A Christmas Carol. I love each and every version of it, will watch any movie version I can get my hands on:

“Marley was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it. And Scrooge’s name was good upon ‘Change for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Marley was as dead as a doornail.”

I hear a great deal of argument about how modern 21st century genre-fiction is nothing but sixty-second soundbites and bursts of action jammed together in dumbed-down prose. I hate to say this, but that has been true of popular fiction for centuries–and if you look at this tale, you will see what I mean. The popular prose, at the time it was written, was more descriptive and leisurely than we enjoy nowadays, but even so, the really popular tales leaped straight to the action.

In that first paragraph, Dickens tosses out the bait, sinking the hook, and landing the fish (the reader) by foreshadowing the first plot point of the story–the visitation by Marley’s ghost. We want to know why Marley’s definite state of decay was so important that the conversation between you the reader, and Dickens the author, was launched with that topic.

He picks it up and does it again several pages later, with the little scene involving the door-knocker: “Now, it is a fact, that there was nothing at all particular about the knocker on the door, except that it was very large. It is also a fact, that Scrooge had seen it, night and morning, during his whole residence in that place; also that Scrooge had as little of what is called fancy about him as any man in the city of London, even including — which is a bold word — the corporation, aldermen, and livery. Let it also be borne in mind that Scrooge had not bestowed one thought on Marley, since his last mention of his seven years’ dead partner that afternoon. And then let any man explain to me, if he can, how it happened that Scrooge, having his key in the lock of the door, saw in the knocker, without its undergoing any intermediate process of change — not a knocker, but Marley’s face.

“Marley’s face. It was not in impenetrable shadow as the other objects in the yard were, but had a dismal light about it, like a bad lobster in a dark cellar. It was not angry or ferocious, but looked at Scrooge as Marley used to look: with ghostly spectacles turned up on its ghostly forehead. The hair was curiously stirred, as if by breath or hot air; and, though the eyes were wide open, they were perfectly motionless. That, and its livid colour, made it horrible; but its horror seemed to be in spite of the face and beyond its control, rather than a part or its own expression.

“As Scrooge looked fixedly at this phenomenon, it was a knocker again.”

You have to admit, it’s a huge thing for a man of as limited an imagination as Scrooge was known to have, to suddenly see his dead friend staring back at him. This is also the second foreshadowing of the events that will follow, and makes the reader want to know what will happen next.

At this point we’ve followed Scrooge through several scenes introducing the subplots. We have met the man who, as yet, is named only as ‘the clerk’ in the original manuscript, but whom we will later know to be Bob Cratchit, and we’ve met Scrooge’s nephew, Fred. These subplots are critical, as our man Scrooge’s redemption revolves around the ultimate resolution of these two separate mini-stories–he must witness the joy and love in Cratchit’s family, who are suffering but happy in the midst of grinding poverty for which Scrooge bears a responsibility. We see that his nephew, Fred, though orphaned is well enough off in his own right, but craves a relationship with his uncle with no thought or care of what he might gain from it financially.

All the characters are in place. We’ve seen the city, cold and dark, with danger lurking in the shadows. We’ve observed the way Scrooge interacts with everyone around him, strangers and acquaintances alike. Now we come to the first plot point–Marley’s visitation. This is where the set-up ends and the story begins to take off.

Dickens raises the tension, the bells begin ringing for no apparent reason and “The cellar-door flew open with a booming sound, and then he heard the noise much louder, on the floors below; then coming up the stairs; then coming straight towards his door.

Scrooge of course is dismayed and tries to deny the strange happenings. He desperately clings to his view of reality.”It’s humbug still!” said Scrooge. “I won’t believe it.”

However, he can’t deny this phenomena forever, and refusing to recognize it won’t make it go away. “Though he looked the phantom through and through, and saw it standing before him; though he felt the chilling influence of its death-cold eyes; and marked the very texture of the folded kerchief bound about its head and chin, which wrapper he had not observed before: he was still incredulous, and fought against his senses.

“How now!” said Scrooge, caustic and cold as ever. “What do you want with me?”

This is the turning point, the place where Ebenezer Scrooge is faced with a situation in which he will either succeed or fail, and what will happen to him, the reader can’t guess. A deep sense of mystery now surrounds this old miserly man–what could possibly be so important about him that a man he cared so little for in life would go to such trouble as to return from the grave to save him?

In 1843 Charles Dickens showed us how to write a compelling tale that would last for generations. We start with the hook, use foreshadowing, introduce the subplots that ultimately support the structure of the tale, and arrive at the first plot point–these are the things that make up first quarter of this timeless tale. Get these properly in line, and your story will intrigue the reader, involving them to the point they don’t want to set the book down.