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.
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?
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.
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.
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).
Then, there’s hunting down and killing the trash and recycling so that we don’t live in a slum, alongside the unlovely side-quest for a clean bathroom. I do these tasks, but they don’t “bring me joy.” I do them so I can get to the good stuff, the best part of the day—which is writing.
Motivations drive emotions, and emotions drive the plot. People have reasons for their actions, and I needed to give my bad guy a good one. Now I know why he must go there.
Sometimes, the story demands a death, and 99% of the time, it can’t be the protagonist. But death must mean something, wring emotion from us as we write it. Since the characters we have invested most of our time into are the antagonist and protagonist, we must allow a beloved side character to die.
Motivations add fuel to emotions. Emotions drive the scene forward.
Characters aren’t fully formed when you first lay pen to paper. They evolve as you go, growing out of the experiences you write for them. Sometimes, these changes take the story in an entirely different direction than was planned, which involves a great deal of rewriting. It helps me remain consistent if I note those changes on my outline because then I don’t forget them.
I highly recommend the 
At any gathering of authors, a determined group will proclaim that thoughts should not be italicized under any circumstances. While I disagree with that view, I do see their point.
In a good story, bad things have happened, pushing the characters out of their comfortable rut. They must become creative and work hard to acquire or accomplish their desired goals.
Mood is long-term, a feeling residing in the background, going almost unnoticed. Mood shapes (and is shaped by) the emotions evoked within the story.
Robert McKee tells us that emotion is the experience of transition, of the characters moving between a state of positivity and negativity. 
These visuals can easily be shown. Grief manifests in many ways and can become a thread running through the entire narrative. That theme of intense, subliminal emotion is the underlying mood and it shapes the story:
This is part of the inferential layer, as the audience must infer (deduce) the experience. You can’t tell a reader how to feel. They must experience and understand (infer) what drives the character on a human level.
As we read, the atmosphere that is shown within the pages colors and intensifies our emotions, and at that point, they feel organic. Think about a genuinely gothic tale: the mood and atmosphere 
However, there is an accessible viewpoint just at the entrance, and we can go there and just absorb the peace. Several years ago, I shot this photo from that platform.
Action and interaction – we know how the surface of a pond is affected by the breeze that stirs it. In the case of our novel, the breeze that stirs things up is made of motion and emotion. These two elements shape and affect the structural events that form the plot arc.
So, how can we use the surface elements to convey a message or to poke fun at a social norm? In other words, how can we get our books banned in some parts of this fractured world?
Creating depth in our story requires thought and rewriting. The first draft of our novel gives us the surface, the world that is the backdrop.
Beta Reading is the first look at a manuscript by someone other than the author. The first reading by an unbiased eye is meant to give the author a view of their story’s overall strengths and weaknesses so that the revision process will go smoothly. This phase should be done before you submit the manuscript to an editor. It’s best when the reader is a person who reads for pleasure and can gently express what they think about a story or novel. Also, look for a person who enjoys the genre of that particular story. If you are asked to be a beta reader, you should ask several questions of this first draft.
Editing is a process unto itself and is the final stage of making revisions. The editor goes over the manuscript line-by-line, pointing out areas that need attention: awkward phrasings, grammatical errors, missing quotation marks—many things that make the manuscript unreadable. Sometimes, major structural issues will need to be addressed. Straightening out all the kinks may take more than one trip through a manuscript.
A good proofreader understands that the author has already been through the editing gauntlet with that book and is satisfied with it in its current form. A proofreader will not try to hijack the process and derail an author’s launch date by nitpicking their genre, style, and phrasing. 
The problem that frequently rears its head among the Indie community occurs when an author who writes in one genre agrees to proofread the finished product of an author who writes in a different genre. People who write sci-fi or mystery often don’t understand or enjoy paranormal romances, epic fantasy, or YA fantasy.
Repeated words and cut-and-paste errors. These are sneaky and dreadfully difficult to spot. Spell-checker won’t always find them. To you, the author, they make sense because you see what you intended to see. For the reader, they appear as unusually garbled sentences.
At some point, your manuscript is finished. Your beta readers pointed out areas that needed work. The line editor has beaten you senseless with the 
Also, the two combine to help in deciding how long it will take to complete a task.
While I had finished the RPG game’s plot and the synopsis, I didn’t have some details of the universe and the world figured out. So, in a burst of creative predictability, I went astrological in naming the months. I thought it would give the player a feeling of familiarity.
Time has a tendency to be elastic when we are writing the first draft of a story where many events must occur. Sometimes, many things are accomplished in too short a period for a reader to suspend their disbelief.
What if your fantasy world uses leagues as a measure of distance? A league is 3.452 miles or 5.556 kilometers. Generally speaking, a horse can walk 32 miles or 51.5 K in a day.
Many readers have a route they walk or run daily to maintain their health. These readers will know how long it takes to walk ten blocks. They will also know how far a healthy person can walk in one hour on a good road.
The part of the world where I live has large tracts of forests, many wide rivers, and is mountainous, with numerous volcanos. Our roads are often winding and sometimes travel in switchbacks up and over many of these obstacles. It takes time to go places even though the original road-builders plotted the roads through the most accessible paths.
Travel and events take time. A calendar, either fantasy or the standard Gregorian calendar we use today, and a simple hand-drawn map will help you maintain the logic of your plot.
Sometimes, a first novel is well-received, with engaging characters and a plot arc that moves along to a satisfying conclusion. People want more, and so the series begins.
The episodic series is like a television series. Each novel has a new adventure for a previously established set of characters. In some ways, these are easiest to write, especially when each book features established characters in an established world. (Sorry about the repetition there.) Many cozy mysteries and fantasy series are episodic. They are an infinite series of standalone stories.
The story usually has a strong theme that unites the series. It might be a theme such as the hero’s journey or young people coming of age. Or it might follow the life of one main character and their sidekicks as they struggle to complete an arduous quest. 
Prequels are one of my favorite kinds of novels. I am always curious as to how the whole thing started.
Once you have figured out the entire arc of the series, make an outline of book one. This allows your creative mind to insert foreshadowing. This will happen via the clues and literary easter eggs that surface as the series goes on.
Next week, we will look at creating a calendar for stories set in a speculative fiction world. We will look at some of my failures and see why simpler is usually better.
Technically, I am a full-time writer. For about ten years after I retired from corporate America, I had regular office hours for writing. Nothing lasts forever, and now I am drawing on the habits I developed during my years as a hobbyist. I write when I can and devote the rest of my time to caring for my family.
So, let’s talk a little more about what we write. Most of us don’t intentionally write to preach to people, but the philosophies we hold dear do come out.
We each grow and develop in a way that is unique to us. Sometimes, we are hardened by our life experiences, and our protagonists have that jaded sensibility. Other times, we accept our own human frailties, and our protagonists are more forgiving.
The battles we fight on the home front don’t have to be serious all the time. Sometimes, they can be hilarious. When your spouse has Parkinson’s, life is like a 
Suddenly, some joker turns the blender on, and everything goes to hell. They turn it off, and you think, “Okay, disaster averted. It’s gonna be okay.”
Life is like a blended margarita. It’s all in how you look at it, so stay cool and enjoy the party for as long as it lasts.
The more frequently you write, the more confident you become. Spending a small amount of time writing every day is crucial. It develops discipline, and personal discipline is essential if you want to finish a writing project.
Maybe you plan to write a novel “someday” but aren’t there yet. Writing random short scenes and vignettes helps develop that story without committing too much time and energy to the project. This is also a good way to create well-rounded characters.
However, 
The Lascaux Review is one of the best contests around. It is exceptionally open to writers who are just beginning their journey. Their fee is reasonable, $15.00 in every category, and submissions are accepted through Submittable. 
A way to get a grip on these concepts is what I think of as literary mind-wandering. For me, these ramblings hold the seeds of short stories.
I break down the word count to know how many words to devote to each act in the story arc. I allow around 25 words to open the story and set the scene. Then, I give myself about 50 – 60 for the heart of the story. That leaves me 10 – 25 words to conclude it.
Extremely short fiction is the distilled essence of a novel. It contains everything the reader needs to know and makes them wonder what happened next.
Life in the Realm of Fantasy 