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“Many modern novels have a beginning, a muddle and an end.” Philip LarkinThat's where I'm at in my work in progress: in the muddle. Or more precisely, and much more dauntingly, at the beginning of the middle. Like the title of this blog suggests this is all new territory to me. I'm 32,000 words into my first novel. The beginning of the novel is officially over. I know where I am with the opening of a novel, what has to happen, how it happens. I've introduced all the main characters, I've slowly revealed elements of the setting, I've given the characters desires to chase, problems to overcome, antagonists to get into conflict with. I've kicked it all off. It's started. The story has begun. In fact it has stopped beginning. Now it's muddled.
I know how my story ends. I often do before I start. When I used to write short stories, the end of a story would come to me in flash as I wrote the beginning. Even if it didn't, that was okay. I know how endings work, what has to happen, how a story has to resolve in a satisfactory manner. I know how to tie up all the lose ends, answer all the unanswered questions, and make sure every character gets the ending they deserve. Simple enough. But what about the middle of a story? I can remember the beginning and endings to a lot of my stories, but the middles . . . well . . . let's see, the story starts . . . there's characters, problems, conflict . . . in the end it's all sorted out and between those two . . . stuff happens.
Yup, that's my unified theory of middles in fiction. Stuff happens between the beginning and end. nebulous, vague, unspecified stuff. Stuff that happens.
Okay. That's not much help. I obviously need to take this a bit more seriously. What really happens, or what I want to happen in the middle of of my stories, is complications and reversals.
Traditionally by the time the opening has set things in motion your characters are set on a course of action, they've crossed the point of no return, and they're pursuing a story problem, desire, or need, that they have to go after. Not only because if they don't there's no story, but because it's a need that's either intrinsic to them as a character, imperative to their survival, or to their well being, be that physical or emotional.
Once they start chasing that's when the complications and reversals come in. Scene after scene where they chase their goal only to have complications thwart them and just when they think they're on top of all those complications a big fat reversal comes along to blow them away and turn the whole story on its head, hopefully in a good way.
A complication is simply making things more difficult. The hero has to cross the river. He finds a bridge. Great. Or not so great as halfway across the bridge he discovers the troll who lives under it. Things just got complicated. While our hero is advancing forward in the story his object of desire, or his goal, is getting further away, not closer, with each complication.
Complications are also part of the ongoing escalation of conflict, the rising conflict, that occurs as your story rushes headlong to its (hopefully) exciting climax.
Rising conflict is the sort of terminology that gets thrown around a lot but is rarely discussed. Many writers on reading rising conflict might see a jagged, stair-like, diagram in their minds-eye, but not really have a clear idea what one actually is. A better name would be realistic and steadily rising conflict, but that isn't so catchy is it. You see a Rising conflict is the right way to handle conflict in your stories, but it's best illustrated when sandwiched between the two types of conflict that don't works so well. Static conflict and jumping conflicts. A static conflict, as the name implies, is one that isn't going anywhere.
For example, I say conflict is key to good storytelling. You say no it isn't. Yes it is. No it isn't. Neither of us will budge. This conflict's going nowhere and that's no good for fiction. Then again perhaps you might say conflict isn't key to good fiction and instead of saying yes it is I just up and punch you in face (as if you'd just said
Hawk the Slayer is rubbish) that's jumping conflict. A conflict that 'jumps' unrealistically from zero aggro to total confrontation in seconds. It's not an appropriate response, it isn't realistic and readers don't like that.
So the the first thing I need in my middle isa series of complications as the conflict rises.
Then there are reversals. A reversal is normally a big deal, when the whole plot does a u-turn, you know like "Luke I am your father!" That kind of thing. The sort of thing that tends to spoil your protagonist's day, but really excites your readers. Easier said than done.
You've probably already had one reversal at the beginning, that little thing they call the inciting incident, another is due at the midway point, and the final big one that throws us headlong into the climax or resolution of the story.
Now, the more 'arty' among you might think this is all very formulaic, but it isn't it's just story structure, good pacing. Writers that don't outline will more or less, still hit these same high points, or at least they will if they've been reading enough good genre fiction.
I think I've more or less convinced myself I know what I should be doing with my middle. Now I just have to write the damn thing.
Next: Worldbuilding Wednesday 2 - How the Hell do I Build a World Anyway?
Today: 1,024 words non-fiction.
Reading: The Penguin Book of English Verse, Thieves World edited by Robert Lyn Asprin,
Writing Tools: 50 Essential Strategies for Every Writer by Roy Peter Clark,
Kit's Wilderness by David Almond
Listening: The Morning Benders -
Talking Through Tin Cans, The Mystery Jets - 21, The Pixies - Dolittle,
The Cars - Greatest Hits, Frightened Rabbit - The Morning Organ Fight, Goldfrapp -
Supernature, Laura Marling -
Alas I Cannot Swim