What is a plot? You think you know what a plot is, but chances are you don’t. I say that because I have seen plenty of good writers who can write wonderful characters, evocative settings, use gorgeous language, and write according to what the market demands. Just one teeny problem. They forget to include an actual plot.
Here is what a plot is not:
It’s not a series of episodes. Episodes do not add up to anything in particular. It’s like a situation comedy that is just that–a situation. Every week they come up with a plot against the situation as a backdrop.
It’s not and then she did this and then she did that. That’s not a plot, it’s a journal.
It’s not the true story of something that actually happened. That’s a biography. If you write about someone who really lived and their life isn’t that interesting because they are never challenged or have something at stake, you don’t have a plot. I once read a novel about the wife of Daniel Boone. It seemed to be a good subject, but then I realized that Mrs. Boone had a dull life. She spend much of it waiting for her husband to appear. He was away for months or years at a time, exploring things. Maybe HE had a plot, but she did not.
Any of those things could be the germ of a plot, if they added one all-important ingredient that will keep us turning those pages. If Mrs. Boone’s life had been beset by a serious challenge–say the man who lives next door is always trying to worm his way into her life and she’s not interested. He wants something she doesn’t want to give.
Let me put it this way.
Let’s say you have a story comprised of scenes or episodes about a mother and son who escape the Nazis during WWII. They go through all kinds of hell–hiding, running, escaping. That is dramatic and real, but it’s episodic. We’re going from one episode to another. But then they become separated and we don’t know how they will survive or if they will ever see each other again. When you add that element, you suddenly have the missing piece—a plot! Now we have something to worry about other than their general survival. No matter how much you may veer into other stories, the overarching story is will they or won’t they ever find each other. Without that question, you have a series of unrelated scenes about what happens to them along the way. Which would you rather read—the unrelated scenes or the one with a plot?
When you apply this principle to just about anything, you have a real story with a real plot. You have a dramatic question that needs to be answered. It doesn’t have to be anything big. It can be will Susie get a date to the prom. It can be will Ted make it on time to an all-important job interview. It can be will the ant succeed in getting the crumb into the anthole. It can be will the atom merge with another atom to form a molecule. I could go on and on. Make us care. Make us wonder. Make us wait.
This technique is called “tension” or “conflict”. Something has to be at stake. A story without tension is not a story. It’s a ramble.
A good storyteller understands these tools and uses them wisely. It comes more naturally to some than to others, but the good news is that it can be learned. Not right away and not all at once, but if you apply yourself to the craft, it will happen.
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