Plotting Change

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Sarah Pride, the author of today's post, graduated from Patrick Henry College in 2007 with a degree in Literature and an undeclared minor in History. Her personal mission is to illuminate the world with beauty, goodness and truth, and to help build organizations that do the same. She has written a feature film screenplay and a half-dozen short films, as well as quite a few short stories, and is currently several chapters into the first book of her epic trilogy.

Creativity, so the myth goes, is a mystic force that spurts forth spontaneously. A divine spark possesses the artist and brings him outside himself to see the world with fresh eyes. Once the influence passes, it leaves the artist a forlorn and wild-eyed husk. He is more than a little insane.

This concept appeals because it means that we are not responsible when we do not produce. We were not “inspired.”

The trouble with the theory, of course, is that many authors have produced a great deal, inspired by little more than their need to survive. William Shakespeare, for example, wrote more than three dozen plays and a great deal of poetry. Charles Dickens wrote his novels in monthly installments. Just as any craftsman learns basic facility in his tools and an eye for what is good and bad in his field, so we writers can grasp principles to take control of our creative processes.

Today, I am going to write about the fundamental qualities of conflict and change, the principles that drive your plot. Basically, if nothing changes in our characters or in their environment from the start to the end of a page, we do not have a story at all. We have dead space. Conflict drives that change—either from within our characters or from their surroundings.

For example, consider the following exchange:

The queen swept down the hallway, raising her hand to stop a maid who was rushing past clutching an armful of books. “Flo, fetch me a glass of water,” she commanded. The girl bobbed a curtsey. “As you please, Your Highness!”

Dead space. But then, we alter it:

The queen swept down the hallway, brow furrowed. At last, she spotted a maid darting out of the library with an armful of books. “Ah, Flo!” she exclaimed. “The king’s fever is running high. Please fetch him another glass of water.” The girl gasped and bobbed a quick curtsey. “If you please, Your Highness – the vizier told me to bring these books to the Hall of Justice immediately.”

Suddenly, we have conflict. The vizier’s and the queen’s wills in that moment stand in opposition, and someone is going to have to change.

One way to take control of a story, then, is to plot the points of change. Consider how the main protagonist and his world will be different at the end of the story than at the beginning. Once we know our starting and ending points, we can mark out a series of necessary steps between, each sparked by a conflict inside characters, between them, or between them and their environment.

Once we get into this process, we find immediately that we have to know our characters intimately. We have to know the stimuli that will cause them, as individuals, to change in their own unique ways. What spells “love” for one real-life person can mean “hate” for another. So it must be for our characters. But that is a topic for another post.

Chasing Stories: How to trap the elusive idea

The author of today's guest post is PHC student Sarah Watterson. Sarah is a sophomore literature major at PHC who spends her spare time chasing stories and devouring those that other writers have caught.

In Barnes and Noble a few days ago, I noticed a game in which one threw three dice to create a story. On each side of the cubes was a different picture and from the combination of pictures one had to piece together an impromptu tale. While I'm not sure this is a foolproof method, it highlights what is necessary for the creation of a story. A story is just the joining of elements that were originally separate, a piecing together of different things. Story-writing is all about making connections and creating patterns.

But how does one come up with a good story idea? To be entirely honest, I'm not really sure. Often I have no idea where one of my story plots comes from; all I know is there is something gnawing at my brain that was not there before. C.S. Lewis said The Chronicles of Narnia was inspired by a mental picture of a faun walking through the snow carrying an umbrella. J.R.R. Tolkien was grading papers one day when a line popped into his head, which he promptly wrote down: “In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.” So of course he had to find out what a hobbit was, and The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings were born. I was encouraged when I learned that Tolkien was just as surprised as his characters when Black Riders entered the Shire and the hobbits met a stranger called Aragorn in an inn. Stories, once begun, can run away with you.

To acquire that elusive beginning, I can offer a few hints that may help you (some serious, some perhaps less so).

Dream often. The books Frankenstein and The Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde were purportedly inspired by their authors' nightmares. So if you can remember a weird or fascinating dream, write it down. You may become the next Robert Louis Stevenson. But if you are not gifted with such dreams (I'm not), take heart and read on.

Take long showers. While this advice might seem a little strange, I have found that some of my best inspirations come while I’m taking a long, hot shower. Maybe the streams of warm water aid in the flow of imagination. But seriously, find the right place where you write most easily and haunt that place like a restless ghost. Maybe it is not the shower (I rather hope not for the sake of your family members who will be taking arctic baths), but whether it is under a favorite tree or in a cozy nook or in the local library, settle yourself down and start banging or scribbling away.

This next one is a no-brainer: Learn from the best. Read the great works of other authors. I promise, they are the farthest thing from stuffy or dull. As you read, pay attention to the things they do well. How does this author tell an engaging story? How does he make you care about his characters? How does she make the setting seem real? Find the crème de la crème of the genre in which you desire to write and learn from them. And while I have no quarrel with the living, dead authors often are the best teachers. Though I'm sure you can get plenty of recommendations,  I will put in my own plug for Dostoevsky, Flannery O'Connor, and C.S. Lewis. And the Bible definitely counts as well. God is, hands down, the best Storyteller.

Bounce ideas off your friends. Many of my story ideas come from conversations in which my friends and I spin a “what if?” into a story.

Find some children to tell a story to. Kids love stories, and they will help you think on your feet. When a six-year-old asks you for a story about a dragon, he likely won't be willing to wait for an hour while you sort out your thoughts. You will be forced to invent quickly. So find some siblings, kids you babysit or a friend's little sister and weave them a tale. It doesn't have to be serious; make it light-hearted and funny. But I guarantee it will get your imagination working.

Look for story ideas in your studies. My friends can attest that my school notes are full of story scribblings because ideas will drop into my head while a professor is lecturing or the class is discussing a concept. Unlikely as it might seem, school textbooks, history lectures, and biographies are a gold mine of story ideas. Be on the alert.

Notice the little things. Anything, a diverting circumstance, an interesting sounding place, even an unusual name can release a train of ideas that eventually gel into a narrative.  Story ideas often come when they are unexpected. So pay attention and be ready. Write ideas on napkins if necessary.
While this may sound patently obvious, one of the best ways to write is to, well, write. Just sit down and start spewing whatever comes to mind. Trust me, this is not a waste of time. Often when you start writing, the words begin flowing of their own accord. (This article is a perfect example. I started not knowing what I was going to say and now you are scrolling down, searching and praying for an ending).

Final advice (yes, this will have an end): Be patient. Keep working and give yourself time to let ideas brew. Dig persistently and you will find some nuggets of treasure, even if it feels like you have to dig all the way to China. In short, just keep spilling words onto paper (or Word processor) and keep your eyes and ears open. Who knows what  might drop into your head, demanding to be scribbled down. Happy writing one and all!

Stories to Tell

Today's guest post is written by Alison O'Leary, a junior Literature major at Patrick Henry College. I thought this post was a fitting inspiration to kick off our series of guest posts this year, on topics from story theory to excellent literature to writing's nuts and bolts. I hope this post inspires you to find and write the story only you can tell.

“Whenever you are fed up with life, start writing: ink is the great cure for all human ills, as I have found out long ago."– C. S. Lewis

My Dad called them “marshmallow books.” My Mom was always trying to get me to read biographies instead. So how did their daughter end up studying literature and desiring to write fiction for a living? I’m not sure…but I think God enjoys paradoxes.

I once heard someone tell me you know you’ve found your vocation when you would do it even if no one paid you. That’s how writing is for me. The stories in my brain are just itching to get onto paper. If I didn’t write them down, I’d probably go crazy.

This got me thinking…why do we like to write stories? What makes us want to sit down and start scratching out characters that are a bit, just a bit, like someone we know and plot lines that suddenly form holes without warning us in advance? I think it’s because we all have stories to tell, but we like to tell them in different ways.

My parents' lives have been full of one amazing adventure after another, yet neither of them write fiction. They would rather tell their stories face to face and read stories of people who really lived.
I also love telling stories. But I like to use characters to convey things I’ve experienced without having to be utterly personal about them. (I also like to write about things I’ve never done. Please do let me know if you happen to see a dragon one day; I should very much like to meet one.)

Maybe that’s why authors started writing fiction. They had problems, they saw problems, they were problems, and they wanted to fix problems. And maybe, just like me, they didn’t prefer to say, “And (insert name here) went and bludgeoned poor Lizaveta to death.” Okay, so Dostoevsky didn’t kill anyone, but he recognized the twisted sin nature in himself and others, the desire to have power over people. The best way he could capture what he was thinking was to write about a murderer-- a story which became Crime and Punishment.

In a similar way, I had a difficult time talking about some familial issues that rocked my world two years ago. I couldn’t write the pain I felt, but I could write about two brothers who had difficulty reconciling after one went away to war. So I did. Sure, I’ve never been deployed or had anyone close to me go away to fight, but I could imagine the hurt and pain they felt was similar to mine. And it helped my own heart recover.

 "I’ve been there,” characters tell us. Suddenly, we know we’re not alone because someone out there gets it. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be so drawn to fictional characters. They speak to us because, in their own made-up world, they wrestle with the same real issues of love, despair, anger, and joy. If we convey those universal emotions in a compelling story, we can hope someone will read our words and find hope. I make a point of reading one of my favorite books, The Outsiders, at least once every year and I think the author, S.E. Hinton, captures what I’m trying to say.

I could picture hundreds and hundreds of boys living on the wrong sides of cities, boys with black eyes who jumped at their own shadows. Hundreds of boys who maybe watched sunsets and looked at stars and ached for something better. I could see boys going down under street lights because they’re mean and tough and hated the world, and it was too late to tell them that there was still good in it, and they wouldn’t believe you if you did. It was too vast a problem to be just a personal thing.

It isn’t just a personal thing. People are aching all around the world. As writers, we have the opportunity to reach them and say, “I understand.” As Christians, we have a message of genuine hope.

But first we have to understand the problems. Sometimes there aren’t easy answers. Sometimes you get hurt and there’s no pat way to fix it. We can’t just slap a story around the Christian Gospel. Everyone can see what you’re trying to do and that’s poor craftsmanship.

Instead, find a story close to your heart. Something you want to say. Maybe everything doesn’t get neatly tied up in the end, but that’s all right. Our own story hasn’t been neatly tied up yet. Offer hope. Let people know you understand, but there’s more to this world than pain. For, as Tolkien would say, “Oft hope is born when all is forlorn.”

Author Bio: Ali was born not too long along and will probably die sometime... most likely by lightening. In her brief span of life, she hopes to write some stories that may or may not be good, make lots of friends, and "seize the adventure" that God has sent her.