Plots and Plotting Read online

  (The problem’s getting worse. There seems little chance now that Santa will notice the bear in time to deliver him.)

  First the sleigh turned to the right.

  “Oops,” said the bear, as he tumbled across the floor.

  “Ouch,” said the bear, as he bumped into the side of the sleigh.

  Then the sleigh turned to the left.

  “Oops,” said the bear, as he tumbled across the floor.

  “Ouch,” said the bear, as he bumped into the other side of the sleigh.

  Next the front of the sleigh pointed up into the air, as the reindeer galloped higher and higher.

  “Oops,” said the bear, as he tumbled across the floor.

  “Help,” cried the bear, as he bounced out of the back of the sleigh.

  (Just as you’re lulled by the bear sliding about, an unexpected plot turn brings another problem. Is the bear going to fall?)

  The bear grabbed desperately for something to save him. As the sleigh flew off, the teddy bear dangled from the back by his front paws.

  (Hurray. He’s saved himself. Clever bear.)

  “Phew,” said the bear, as he held on very tight. His paws ached, but at least he was safe. Then he looked down and saw the roof of Madeleine's house far below him. “That's where I should be,” he thought. “If Santa won’t take me, I’ll have to go by myself.”

  (This is a major turning point in the story. It’s where the bear takes matters into his own paws and decides to solve his problem himself. It’s also where the beginning turns into the middle.)

  The bear shut his eyes and let go.

  “Aaargh,” said the bear, as he fell through the air.

  “Eek,” said the bear, as he spun round and round with his arms and legs outstretched.

  (He’s doing this for Madeleine even though he’s frightened. This helps us see how brave he is and how much he cares about her and this, in turn, helps us care about him.)

  “Ouch,” said the bear, as he landed with a thump on Madeleine’s roof.

  He sat up and blew some snow off the end of his nose. The snow was cold and damp. It made his hair go spiky.

  (I wish you could see the picture that goes with this bit. It’s my favourite in the whole book.)

  The bear scrambled up a pile of snow and looked down the chimney.

  Inside it was dark and scary. He didn’t want to go down there, but how else could he get into Madeleine’s house?

  (Another problem and another test of the bear’s resolve. Is he brave enough to go down the chimney for Madeleine?)

  “Oooh,” said the bear, as he climbed nervously into the chimney pot.

  “Aaargh,” cried the bear, as he slid down the chimney.

  (He’s very scared, but he does it anyway which makes us like him more and more.)

  “Ouch,” said the bear, as he landed in the fireplace with a cloud of soot and ash.

  There was no Christmas stocking by the fireplace.

  There was no Christmas stocking under the tree.

  (Oh no! We thought he’d solved the problem but he hasn’t.)

  “It must be beside Madeleine’s bed,”thought the bear so he started to climb the stairs.

  The stairs were very tall for a bear. The stairs were very steep for a bear.

  (Another problem, but he doesn’t give up. This is a very determined bear and we love him for it.)

  “Phew,” said the bear when he got to the top. He wanted to stop for a rest, but he couldn’t. He had to hurry. It was nearly morning.

  (A bit of added time pressure to up the tension. Now he hasn’t just got to deliver himself – he’s got to do it quickly.)

  He walked along the landing and peeped around the first door.

  “Hmmm,” said the bear with a shake of his head. He could hear a dripping tap. He could smell soap.

  This wasn’t Madeleine’s room.

  (First try doesn’t work)

  He peeped around the second door.

  “Hmmm,” said the bear with a shake of his head. He could see a big bed with two people in it. He could hear snoring.

  This wasn’t Madeleine’s room.

  (Second try doesn’t work.)

  He peeped around the third door. “Ah ha,” said the bear. He could see a little girl fast asleep. He could see a Christmas stocking hanging on the end of her bed.

  This must be Madeleine’s room.

  (Third try succeeds. For a brief moment, it looks as if he’s won.)

  But the stocking was very high for a bear.

  “Oh,” said the bear, with a tear in his eye. There was no way he could get into Madeleine’s stocking. There was no way he could be a proper Christmas present, unless...

  (This is the black moment. All seems lost because he’s too small to complete the task. And now the middle of the story moves on to the end.)

  “Hmm,” said the bear, as he scratched his head thoughtfully. In the corner of the room were some leftover Christmas decorations.

  “Ho ho,” said the bear, as he rolled himself up in a sheet of wrapping paper.

  (Clever bear has come up with another solution.)

  “Eeek,” said the bear, as he fell flat on his back.

  “Aah,” said the bear, as he looked up at the stocking.

  He was badly wrapped up, a little bit damp and rather sooty, but he was in just the right place – well, nearly, anyway.

  (Success at last – well nearly, anyway.)

  That’s where Madeleine found him in the morning, and she loved him straight away.

  (An ending designed to produce a sigh of satisfaction. It’s just what we wanted to happen, and the bear has achieved it entirely by his own efforts.)

  *****

  You’ll notice that I’ve described how this story works without using any of the jargon often used in story structure books and courses. That’s partly because I didn’t want to introduce terms that you don’t need to know, but also because the story itself is more important than the words we use to analyse it.

  Too much reliance on jargon can cause confusion. In this story, some people might say that the inciting incident in this story is when the bear falls out of the sack. Some might be sure it’s when Santa goes down Madeleine’s chimney without him, and others might think it’s when he falls out of the sleigh. That’s because story analysis is not an exact science.

  It’s hard enough to agree which is the inciting incident in this straightforward short story, but, once you’re looking at a full-length novel or script with multiple storylines, the situation becomes really confused. So my advice is not to worry. Leave the story analysis to the experts after you’ve finished your book. You can write stories that work without knowing all the jargon.

  5

  The magic of three

  I don’t know why, but there’s something about the number three that resonates with our souls and gives us satisfaction. That’s why it is woven through the fabric of storytelling through the ages. Stories have three parts and trilogies have three books. Shakespeare had three witches, the wolf tried to catch the three little pigs and Goldilocks stole the porridge from the three bears. More recently, Harry Potter, Hermione and Ron faced danger together, hindered by Draco Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle.

  The magic of three doesn’t just apply to the number of characters in stories. It works with events as well, which is why so many movies make the struggling hero try once and fail, try a second time and fail and finally succeed on the third attempt.

  Three repeats even works at the level of the words we choose to use. “I’ll huff and I’ll blow your house down” or “I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house down” don’t have the same rhythm and completeness as “I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house down”. Similarly the big wolf, the bad wolf and even the big, bad, brown wolf don’t roll off our tongues as easily as the big, bad wolf.

  When we were analysing The Bear Santa Claus Forgot, I pointed out that he tries twice to find Madeleine’s room without success a
nd then succeeds on the third attempt. But the number crops up in other places in the story too. For example, the sleigh turns to the right, then to the left and then up into the air while the bear slides one way, then the other and then falls out of the back. He sometimes speaks in groups of three as well.

  “Oooh,” said the bear, as he climbed nervously into the chimney pot.

  “Aaargh,” cried the bear, as he slid down the chimney.

  “Ouch,” said the bear, as he landed in the fireplace with a cloud of soot and ash.

  However, he doesn’t always do that. The magic of three can become boring if you use it too much and always grouping events in threes can make your story too predictable. So keep that magic number in mind and use it whenever it helps the story work, but don’t feel you have to use it all the time.

  6

  Finding ideas

  The Ancient Greeks believed in the Muses: supernatural beings who send ideas to creative people. The late, great Terry Pratchett talked about ideas floating around in the atmosphere, ready to pop into our brains at random. Both theories suggest that ideas come from somewhere outside us, and maybe some of them do.

  The story that you read earlier was inspired by a picture that came into my head of Santa’s sleigh flying through the air with a teddy bear hanging from the back by his front paws. That picture arrived unannounced and unbidden – I wasn’t even thinking about writing a story at the time. I don’t know if the idea floated into my head or it was sent by the Muses or came from somewhere else, but I may not have been the only person who received it. While my story was being illustrated, another picture book was published with a front cover that showed a bear hanging by his front paws from the back of Santa’s sleigh. The other author’s story was different from mine, but I strongly suspect that same inspirational picture had popped into both our heads.

  Unexpected ideas don’t always come from nowhere like the forgotten bear. Sometimes they are triggered by a chance encounter, an item in a newspaper or something someone says. But they always arrive without warning which is why the standard advice for all writers is to carry a notebook at all times.

  I’m passing on that advice because it sounds like a sensible thing to do, although I have to admit that I don’t do it myself. Which explains why I can’t remember the best idea I ever had. I can only remember that I had it and, as I was in the shower at the time, a notebook wouldn’t have helped anyway. Neither would the modern alternative: a mobile phone. I know one author who texts herself her ideas instead of writing them down on paper.

  Unfortunately, unexpected ideas are just that – unexpected. We can’t rely on them turning up when we need them. Which is a pain because, as writers, we need ideas all the time – an initial one to get a project started and dozens of others to help us develop it into a full-length novel or script. So when the Muses have deserted us and none of the floating ideas are coming our way, we need to do some work to make inspiration happen.

  Brainstorming and Mind Maps

  One way to get your creative juices flowing is to brainstorm. This involves focusing on one particular issue or question and writing down as many ideas as you can think of. Let your imagination run riot and, if it helps, seek inspiration by delving into your memory of things that have happened to you or other people.

  You are aiming for quantity rather than quality, so don’t make any attempt to judge the ideas at this stage. Just write down everything that comes into your head, including thoughts you think are too silly to bother with. You may discover later that they contain the germ of an idea that you can use. I find it helpful to brainstorm for a set period of time, because forcing myself to keep going after I’ve thought of all the obvious ideas often results in real originality.

  To demonstrate how brainstorming works, I’ll show you how I came up with the initial idea for There Must Be Horses. I knew I wanted to write a horse book for readers of 10+ with a girl as the main character and the emphasis on horse care rather than winning trophies. So I brainstormed all the possibilities and ended up with a list like this:

  Girl lives at country hotel where guests can bring their own horses and have a riding holiday. Way out in country, like another world.

  Isolated place. I loved stories set in the Australian outback when I was young. Aim for a similar feel but not Aussie.

  Brat camp. Kids with problems come to somewhere and are healed by ponies.

  Maybe just setting up riding holidays at a farm – cleaning out stables, etc.

  Something happened to Dad. Don’t know what. Accident rather than illness or maybe lost job. Farming in a downturn.

  Is the hotel/farm family home? Been in family for generations – was Grandad’s. Did family lose their home in a financial crash?

  Has girl got a pony? Maybe he’s old/useless/scruffy/ wild pony off the moor.

  Does Mum ride? Is Jenny the only pony-mad one in family/village?

  Mum and Dad are both writers and leave Jenny to her own devices. Country cottage is rented. Can’t pay rent. Face eviction.

  Jenny lost pony. Doesn’t want to ride any more . Friend will lend her hers, but she won’t use it. Losing her pony was too painful. Then parents suggest running riding holidays. She’s resistant, but it’s the only way to save the hotel.

  Make the place remote. Far from towns. Small village some distance away. Schooling difficult.

  If Dad is a writer, maybe they moved here because the isolation helps his creativity.

  Livery stables. Family have land, house, stable yard, milking cows, etc.

  Sasha keeps her pony at the stables at the big house.

  Sasha lives on a farm.

  In future, cars are banned. Have to use horses.

  Live action role-playing. People come to farm to pretend to live in the past.

  Sasha in care. Sent to first-time foster carers who run a stables/rescue home/do riding lessons. She wants to stay but it’s only a temporary placement. Can she persuade them to keep her?

  As you can see, that’s a list of random notes – not titles. (Those come later, often when the book is finished.) Some of the ideas overlap, some don’t mention horses and some were completely unexpected – I really wasn’t aiming at science fiction. I dwelt a lot on setting because I knew it was going to affect possible storylines, and I experimented a bit with the girl’s name. Most importantly, the idea that eventually formed the basis for the book was the last one, which shows the importance of not giving up too soon.

  I wrote those ideas in a list, but it’s often easier to link them together if you draw a Mind Map (or spider graph) instead. That involves putting the thing you are focusing on in the middle of a large sheet of paper and drawing arrows out from it in all directions that lead to your ideas. From those ideas, you draw more arrows leading to further possibilities, and you can also draw other arrows linking the various possibilities together. I love Mind Maps because of the way they help you investigate the way ideas connect so I use them a lot at all stages of plotting. Here’s one showing some ideas for a story about an animal thief.

  If you want to keep your ideas even more fluid, you can put each thought on a sticky note and lay them out on a table in whatever pattern appeals to you. This makes it easy to move things about, and you can use your phone to photograph the final result to help you remember everything.

  Analysing the results

  When you’ve finished brainstorming, give yourself a break to clear your mind. Then look at what you’ve written with a fresh eye. Do any of your ideas stand out from the others? Do any of them fill you with excitement? If so, you’ve found your project.

  If you’ve got two or more possible choices that look equally good, try playing with them a little to discover which has the most potential or try combining them to make another idea that’s even better. And if none of your ideas appeal, pick a different starting point and try brainstorming again. Don’t despair and don’t rush. You’re going to be working on this story for a long time so take your time
and find an idea you really like.

  Using real events

  Sometimes your idea for a novel may be triggered by something from the past: an historical event, your own life story, your great-grandfather’s diary or a set of love letters discovered in a junk shop. This type of information can provide an excellent starting point for a story, but you’ll need to be careful not to let it become a straightjacket that restricts your plot.

  Although truth is sometimes stranger than fiction, it can also be rambling, repetitious or just plain boring. And telling your readers “That’s what really happened” won’t keep them reading once they have lost interest. So always remember that you are writing fiction, not a history textbook. That means you don’t have to include everything that happened in real life. You can also add extra events and characters, invent details and generally do everything you need to make the story work and hold your readers’ attention.

  7

  A note about themes

  The theme of a book is the underlying message that it carries. Many successful novels have strong themes like love, forgiveness or belonging that help readers relate to the characters and care about what happens next. However, concentrating too much on theme during the creation process can get you into trouble and result in a story that’s so contrived and unbelievable that no one wants to read it. This is particularly likely if your main reason for writing a book for children is to give your readers a strong moral message.