20 Master Plots (13 page)

THREE STRIKES . . . YOU'RE OUT

Meanwhile, back at the castle, the count has kicked his son out and told him he must study with a celebrated master. The boy obeys and spends a year with the master. At the end of the year he comes home and the count asks him what he's learned. "I have learnt what the dogs say when they bark," the boy replies.

The count isn't exactly thrilled and sends his son to a second master for a year, at the end of which the boy comes back. Again the count asks his son what he's learned. "I have learnt what the birds say," the son answers.

This time the count is furious. "Oh, you lost man, you have spent the precious time and learnt nothing; are you not ashamed to appear before my eyes?" He sends his son to a third master with the warning that if he doesn't learn anything useful this time, he shouldn't bother coming home.

A year later the boy shows up at the castle gate. (Are you projecting the pattern?)

The father asks what he's learned this time. "Dear father, I have this year learnt what the frogs croak."

That's the last straw for the count. He disinherits his son and orders him taken into the woods and killed. The servants haul him off but feel sorry for the boy and let him go.

The boy is now alone in the forest and can't go back; he must go forth into the unknown and fend for himself.

All of this action constitutes the first movement of the plot. Its elements are basic: a father who wants his "stupid" son to learn something; a son who obeys the orders of his father but doesn't learn what his father thinks he should learn; and the father's disinheritance of his son, which allows for no going back (since his father assumes his son is dead).

There are five events in the first act; they are pure cause and effect, and you can follow them easily: the initial impetus for movement ("get an education"), the three journeys to celebrated masters (each resulting in failure), and the final rejection and sentence of death. Each scene stems directly from the one preceding it. That's the beauty and economy of the fairy tale.

The boy in "The Three Languages" does go forth into the world, but he returns each time, suggesting he really doesn't want to go; he's only doing so because his father wants him to. Finally his father throws him out (both literally and figuratively). No longer guided by the demands of his father,
he must act on his own now.
This distinguishes the first from the second act: The boy's motivation is different.

As you develop your own idea for this plot, keep in mind that you should develop a series of events and locations that are colorful and exciting, but that also mesh for the sake of the plot. In the case of "The Three Languages," we are entranced by the dark, mysterious mood of the places the boy visits. There is also a good reason for the boy to go to each place. We don't understand that until the end of the story, but looking back it's clear that each step of his education has come into play.

Don't just move your character through a series of unrelated stops. Try to tell a story. You're free from the restraints of the quest plot, in which each event challenges the hero in some meaningful way and affects his character. In the adventure plot, the character can simply enjoy the events for their worth. But don't abandon cause and effect. Your hero is still an important figure in the book, and the reader always looks to find some correlation between place and event with the hero.

Now let's begin the second movement.

The boy (let's call him Hans) comes to a great castle and asks for a night's lodging. The lord of the castle, who isn't a great host, says he can sleep in the ruins of an old tower nearby but to watch out for the wild dogs who might kill him.

Hans goes down to the tower and, having learned the language of dogs, eavesdrops on them. He finds out that the dogs are crazy because they're under a curse that forces them to guard a great treasure in the tower. He tells the lord that he knows how to get the treasure and release the dogs from the curse that keeps them there. The lord is impressed, promising to adopt Hans if he can get the treasure. Hans delivers the treasure and finds a new father.

End of second movement.

Notice how the author
goes back
to the material in the first movement and builds on it in the second? Lay the groundwork for the journey in the first movement, then actually make the journey in the second movement. As you develop a series of events (and difficulties for your hero), remember to keep the reader challenged. Description of exotic places and people can be interesting, but you still must deliver the goods when it comes to some kind of story. Otherwise you have the equivalent of a pile of adjectives with no nouns. Put your characters into interesting situations, but make sure those situations relate to some kind of intent on behalf of the hero. It may be something as simple as a young man who goes out into the world to find a wife. It may be the story of a woman who goes into the world to find her lost father. This is the core of the story; don't be sidetracked from it. The rest is just window dressing. It may be exciting and colorful, but it's still just window dressing.

The actions of the second movement depend on the action of the first movement. In "The Three Languages," we understand how Hans happens to know dogspeak. For the first time, Hans thinks and acts on his own, and he uses his education effectively. Notice also the insight into Hans' character: He doesn't keep the treasure for himself. Instead, he turns it over to the lord of the castle, who repays him with adoption. Hans has replaced an ungrateful father with a grateful one.

The focus isn't on Hans, however. The focus is on the adventure. For the sake of summarizing the story I've left out the details of Hans' encounter with the dogs, but it has elements of fear, terror, fascination and revelation (the treasure). It is from these details the adventure takes its color and power. The plot is continuous, and Hans doesn't go off chasing a woman or fighting an ogre guarding a bridge. Such scenes would serve no purpose to the plot. Hans does only what he must to advance the plot.

THE CRYSTAL BALL

But where is this story headed? Two elements should be obvious. Hans learned three things from the celebrated masters: the speech of dogs, frogs and birds. The second act included an episode that dealt with dogs. Therefore, the third act must include episodes that deal with frogs and birds.

Having gotten a taste of the world, Hans decides to visit Rome. He leaves home willingly and with the blessing of his father (as opposed to his violent ejection in Act One).

On his way he passes a marsh where frogs are croaking. Hans listens in "... and when he became aware of what they were saying, he grew very thoughtful and sad."

He continues his journey, and when he gets to Rome he finds out the pope has just died. The cardinals are deadlocked about whom they should appoint as his successor. They decide to wait for a sign from God.

They don't have long to wait. As soon as the young count enters the church, two snow-white doves fly down and land on his shoulders. The cardinals, who know a sign when they see one, ask Hans on the spot if he would be the next pope. Hans doesn't believe he's worthy enough to be pope, but the doves counsel him to accept.

He does and is anointed and consecrated. This is what the frogs in the marsh had told him: that he would be the next pope.

The third act fulfills the promises of the first two acts. Hans moves through successive states of being. He starts out as dumb Hans (Act One), develops into the young adopted count (Act Two) and ends up as the pope (Act Three). Each stage depends on the previous one. He also moves through three fathers. Hans starts out with the irresponsible and intolerant father of Act One, graduates to an understanding and giving father in Act Two, and graduates again to be the figurative son of God.

Heroes in adventures don't usually change much during the course of the story. The reader is basically concerned with the chain of events and with what happens next. Yes, Hans becomes the pope, but we don't see any evidence of a changed Hans. He can't even speak Latin; when he gives Mass, the doves have to prompt him. He's still pretty much the same person, although he's become more self-reliant (which is the point of the story). We don't see a high level of spiritual consciousness or insight that elevates his character. If it weren't for the birds ...

Frequently, an adventure includes a romance. There's no romance in "The Three Languages" because it wouldn't be fitting for a pope-to-be to have a girlfriend, but in many other fairy tales (and adult adventures) the hero encounters a member of the opposite sex along the way. Kings and princes must have their queens and princesses (and vice versa).

What does Act Three accomplish in the adventure plot? As is true with most plots, the question that you raise in your first act is answered in your third. Will Hans make his way in the world? Yes. But it is the journey to the "yes" that intrigues us most. In fact, the "yes" may not even be that important to the reader. The adventure plot is a process plot: We enjoy the journey at least as much as (if not more than) the resolution at the end of the story.

If you decide to use this plot, do your homework. Since a large part of your success depends on sounding convincing —this person really knows what she's talking about—you either should have firsthand knowledge of the events, and the places in which they happen, or you need to spend time in the library gleaning those details that add authenticity. It's details that convince-not just knowing the names of places, but knowing those little details that collectively give a sense of the look, smell and taste of the place. Immerse yourself in the location. Flood yourself in details. You never know what you need until you need it, so
take careful notes.
Nothing is more frustrating than reading a detail you didn't think was important and then realizing as you write that it's the perfect detail—but you have no idea which book it was in. If you take careful notes (including the name of the book and the author), you can always go back.

You can't take shortcuts around details. Without them, you'll be giving broad sketches, which aren't convincing. The next time you read an adventure book, notice what a large role those details play in creating a time and a place, and notice how naturally a good author weaves the two together so they seem inseparable.

CHECKLIST

As you write, keep these points in mind:

1. The focus of your story should be on the journey more than on the person making the journey.

2. Your story should concern a foray into the world, to new and strange places and events.

3. Your hero goes in search of fortune; it is never found at home.

4. Your hero should be motivated by someone or something to begin the adventure.

5. The events in each of your acts depend on the same chain of cause-and-effect relationships that motivates your hero at the beginning.

6. Your hero doesn't necessarily have to change in any meaningful way by the end of the story.

7. Adventures often include romance.

T
wo games never seem to fail to capture the imagination of children: hide-and-seek and tag. Try to remember the excitement of being on the hunt and finding where everyone was hiding. Or if you were the hunted, the excitement of eluding capture. It was a test of cleverness (how well you could hide) and nerve.

Tag is like that, too. Chasing and being chased, always trying to outwit the other person. We never lose our appetite for the game. For children as well as adults, there's something fundamentally exciting in finding what has been hidden. As we grow older, we grow more sophisticated about how we play the game, but the thrill at the heart of it never changes. It is pure exhilaration.

The pursuit plot is the literary version of hide-and-seek.

The basic premise of the plot is simple: One person chases another. All you need is a cast of two: the pursuer and the pursued. Since this is a physical plot, the chase is more important than the people who take part in it.

Structurally, this is one of the simplest plots. In the first dramatic phase, the situation is quickly established as the guidelines for the race are set up.
Runners on your mark .
.. We must know who the bad guy is and who the good guy is, and why one will be chasing the other. (The good guy doesn't always chase the bad

guy; it's often the other way around.) It's in this phase that you establish the stakes of the race (death, imprisonment, marriage, etc.).
Get set
... You also need a motivating incident to get the chase going.
Go!