The 8 C’s of Plotting: Confrontation to Comprehension

This is Part 6 of The 8 C’s of Plotting. Click here for the whole series on the 8 C’s. Or click the image below to be taken to the General Fiction Feed.

Since last week’s post was a bit late, I’m going to round out the rest of Act 2 today. Buckle up; it’s a lot of new stuff.

Last week we talked about Preparation and Problems, the longest section of the book. We also mentioned a thing or two about Pinch Points.

As you may have noticed, the 8 C’s is based loosely on the 3-Act structure, but there are differences. If you’d like the 3-Act structure broken down into a list of terms and regulations, read Larry Brooks’ posts on StoryFix (while I think his blog is valuable, I will say he tends to ramble, and the last time I visited the site, navigating from post to post was about as easy as scrambling up a fireman’s pole).

I’ve read literally hundreds of blog posts and articles and books about the 3-Act structure, yet I was still dissatisfied to the point of creating my own method. Why? The Midpoint. No one can seem to pinpoint it exactly. There are varying definitions: It’s an epiphany, it’s a change in tactics, it’s the turning point or “point of no return.” Yet people will take a book or movie and argue what the midpoint is. Or, if you are in a literature class looking at Freytag’s Pyramid, what the CLIMAX is. Note, the climactic scene—the highest point of tension at the end of a novel—isn’t the midpoint.

Basically, whenever people talk about the midpoint, they are really just telling you this:

Make sure something interesting happens in the middle of your book, or the plot will sag in the middle.

And whenever they talk about pinch points, they mean this:

Remind the reader about the ANTAGONISTIC FORCE, you know, so they don’t forget. And also to keep the story moving.

I talk more about pinch points in part 5, also.

Blogs like Larry Brooks’ will give you exact places to put the midpoints and two major pinch points: Pinch Point I at 37.5% (3/8ths), Midpoint IN THE MIDDLE, Pinch Point II at 62.5% (5/8ths). Adhere to that if you wish. I probably will whether I intend to or not. But plenty of novelists and screenwriters will throw things around at earlier or later points in the story, and they are just fine. But note, certain strict adherents might blog about your straying from the holy percentage points.

Bottom line: somewhere around the halfway point, make the protagonist change tactics or realize a new goal. In Tangled, the midpoint is the elation, when Rapunzel finally gets to see the lights and realizes that being Flynn’s honey is her new goal. In The Hunger Games, the collapse is the midpoint.

If you want guidelines to shoot for, then take your target word count for age and genre, and apply these percentage points: Change, 10%; Complication, as early as 18%, no later than 25%; Pinch Point I at 37–38% (during Preparation & Problems); Elation or Collapse at 50%; Comprehension somewhere between 70–80% (see below); Final Battle from 90% to 99%.

It’s fine to stray from these targets! Think of the 8 C’s as an accordion. You can stretch or shrink as needed.

Now let’s get back to the 8 C’s.

C4—Confrontation

Like the explosive C-4, the Confrontation is pretty perilous. And like its name suggests, it’s the first confrontation between the protagonist and the [capital-A] Antagonist after the protagonist has prepared and acquired skills and allies in preparation & problems. If your protagonist is a boxer, the confrontation will be the last match in the semi-finals.

I say “Capital-A Antagonist” because in the preparation and problems sequence of events, your protagonist(s) will face a number of antagonists and antagonistic forces. The Confrontation is the “First Battle” with whichever antagonist they will face-off with in the Final Battle.

In The Hunger Games, the confrontation is a physical confrontation between protagonist and antagonist: [the Tracker Jacker scene, when Katniss is stuck up in a tree and the Careers are waiting to kill her below]

(Highlight between brackets to reveal SPOILERS)

In The Lion King, Simba is confronted by an antagonistic force, when we are reminded of his inner conflict: [Simba meets Rafiki, sees vision of Mufasa, who tells him, “Remember who you are.”] 

The confrontation ends with a KO—a knock out. Or maybe a TKO, a technical knock out.  Either way, your protagonist wins, propelling them into…

Elation

The victory celebration. This is the moment of the protagonist’s greatest confidence, hope, or pleasure. (You can probably guess what happens in the romance genre during the elation!)

Endorphins are surging. In The Lion King, the Confrontation was the midpoint, when Simba decides to stop running from his past and run TOWARD it, backed up by a motivating Swahili chant.

This is the elation scene, and it lasts less than twenty seconds.

lion-king

In The Hunger Games, the elation segment is a bit longer, which is a nice relief for us readers, who have been on the edge of our seats, getting paper cuts from turning pages so quickly. It’s when Katniss allies with Rue and makes a plan [to blow up the Careers’ stash of food].

Happiness is…making allies with fellow tributes

However long the Elation lasts is up to you. Decide how much relief the reader needs after the confrontation and before being trampled by the…

C5—Collapse

This is the near-fatal blow to the protagonist. The boxer gets punched in the face and falls to the canvas.

(Major Spoiler) In The Hunger Games, [Rue is killed by another tribute].

In The Lion King, we learn a tip about the Collapse: foreshadow its coming with setting and atmosphere. A few scenes before the collapse, we see the current state of Pride Rock, and it looks like this:

Later, it starts raining with thunder and lightning. You might not be able to control the soundtrack for your novel—your readers may be listening to Miley Cyrus, for all you know—but you can control the mood of the novel with word choice and atmosphere.

The collapse in The Lion King is when Simba sees firsthand the consequence of his leaving, and what is at stake if he fails, when he witnesses [Scar hitting Sarabi, Simba’s mother].

The collapse reminds the audience what the protagonist stands to lose.

Depending how severe the collapse is, you may end your chapter on it. Just be careful that it is a cliffhanger that keeps the reader reading. If it’s a real sock to the gut, then you’ll need at least a glimmer of hope for the reader before the chapter ends, so he or she knows all hope isn’t lost. Sometimes writers add a cliffhanger directly before the near-fatal blow, delivering that sucker-punch in the first line of the next chapter. THAT will definitely keep your reader going, since they know it isn’t the end of the story!

Gloom

The gloom is whatever follows the collapse, and can be long and drawn out or just a few sentences. Either things can get worse, and they do, or they can’t possibly get any worse. The Princess Bride chooses the former route. Buttercup and Westley hit their elation when they survive the Fire Swamp together as a couple. They are separated in the collapse. For Westley and Buttercup, things only get worse: [He’s tortured to death, and she’s forced to marry the nasty Prince]. Meanwhile, William Goldman takes the opportunity to give lavish backstory on Inigo and Fezzik, to the point that the “Gloom” is the longest section of the original novel. Yet it works! See, there is freedom.

In The Hunger Games, we see what the gloom serves to do when the collapse is pretty brutal. In cases such as these, the gloom should:

  1. allow the protagonist to react to or grieve the collapse, and
  2. provoke the protagonist (and reader) to move on with a new determination

We see both in The Hunger Games when [Katniss buries Rue and grieves for her] and  [Katniss recognizes that The Capitol was the real killer (Pinch Point 2)].

In the gloom of The Lion King, Simba has to face his problems and its consequences: [He tells the lionesses that he was to blame for Mufasa’s death. Then Scar calls him a murderer and backs him off a cliff. “This looks familiar”].

Summary: The gloom is the natural outplay of whatever happens in the Collapse. It is primarily reaction and is a great opportunity to spend some time in other viewpoints or on the B story. The protagonist can only make progress towards the goal again after the comprehension.

C6—Comprehension

This one’s big. It’s the Awakening, either figuratively or physically. When all hope seems to be lost, the Hero learns new information, regains consciousness, or gets help from someone or -thing.

Comprehension aligns pretty nicely with Plot Point II,* and it’s what ends the second act. It’s the BIG turning point. Everything after this is the ending. This is the stuff you won’t see in the trailer, because the Comprehension is the thing the writer keeps up a sleeve to deal at the last, best moment.

*Note: in the 3-Act structure, the second Plot Point may be assigned to anything that happens between C5 and C6.

Let’s look at some examples of C6:

In The Princess Bride, [Westley is resurrected.]

In The Lion King, [Scar says, “I killed Mufasa.”]

In The Hunger Games, [there can be two winning tributes.]

That wraps up Act II! Next week we will talk about endings.

Word Wednesday: Diction Holy Grail

Today I discovered the Holy Grail for Diction assessment. (Diction, you remember, is word choice.)

The Pro Writing Aid finds common diction faux pas such as:

  • Overused words
  • Sentences that are all the same length
  • “Sticky Sentences”—I’d never heard that title before, but it’s a way of determining wordiness, specifically when sentences use too many short, common words. I love it.
  • Clichés and Redundancies
  • Repeated words and phrases
  • Deadwood and Jargon (they call it simply “Diction”)
  • Vague or Abstract words
  • Complex words
  • Alliteration
  • Poor Pacing
  • Dialogue tags

Wowzers.

Just for fun, I analyzed the blog that will be posted on Friday. Blogs are more conversational, so they will include more clichés, and a blog about plotting is going to repeat a lot of words (like Confrontation, Elation, Collapse, and Gloom—the subjects I’ll be covering on Friday). Still, this little program is SUPER DUPER NIFTY.

And it’s free.

Try it out here with some of your own text, and comment below with your results. What do you need to work on? What do you want more information about? Future blog posts may be devoted to your topic, but I won’t know what you want unless you tell me!

The 8 C’s of Plotting: Reaction and Complication

This is Part 4 of The 8 C’s of Plotting. Read parts one and two first, if you please. Click here for the whole series on the 8 C’s. Click the image below to be taken to the General Fiction Feed.

With the Prologue, Opening, Captivation, and Change we discussed last time, the Reaction and Complication flesh out the rest of Act One, if you are familiar with the 3-Act structure.

I told you that I’d start using The Lion King and The Hunger Games as examples to illustrate. To get you up to speed, here are the Prologue, Opening, Captivation, and Change for each. I’m not hiding these, because even if you haven’t seen either, this information is pretty standardly given in a movie trailer.

The Lion King

Prologue—The Circle of Life, Simba introduced

Captivation—Lions! In Africa! Great Soundtrack!

Opening—Simba Just Can’t Wait to Be King

Change/Inciting Incident—Elephant Graveyard; Scar makes a plan to become king

The Hunger Games

Prologue (Movie)—Panem, District 12

Captivation (book)—It’s the Reaping. What’s the Reaping?

Opening—The Reaping

Change/Inciting Incident—Katniss’ sister is chosen as tribute in the 74th Hunger Games. Katniss volunteers in her place.

Up to speed? Here’s the Reaction and Complication. They don’t need very long descriptions.

Reaction

The reaction is anything that happens after the Change. How does the protagonist (and/or the antagonist) react to the change?

In The Fugitive, Dr. Richard Kimble (Harrison Ford) is convicted of killing his wife, though we are pretty sure he didn’t do it. The conviction is the change. The reaction? He is sent to be executed.

In The Lion King, (highlight the area between brackets to read the spoiler) [Simba still trusts his uncle Scar, so he willingly, naively, sits at the bottom of a canyon waiting for his dad, not knowing that Scar intends to trample him with a stampede of wildebeests.]

In The Hunger Games, [Katniss and Peeta go to the Capitol and train. Katniss isn’t very cooperative (or likable) as far as Haymitch is concerned. This includes the parade, the training, and the arrow through the apple.]

The reaction can play out in different ways, but whatever the Protagonist does during the “reaction” stage, he or she will do something else after the complication.

Before or during the Complication, it’s a good idea to show what the antagonist is doing.

Complication/Campaign

This is whatever happens to make the protagonist stop reacting (likely due to a “complication” or obstacle of some sort), and start acting (setting upon a “campaign”).

It can be a switch from passive to active, like in The Lion King.

Or it can mean a change of direction or a different approach, like in The Hunger Games.

It might also be the entrance into a new world or setting, like in the monomyth.

In a character-driven story like Toy Story, the complication:

  • is a bad decision, mistake, or accident
  • which grows out of the Reaction
  • and ends unfortunately,
  • resulting in the need to make new plans—the “campaign” of Act Two.

—”Act One: Threatened Characters Make Mistakes

The Complication corresponds with the 3-Act structure’s First Plot Point or the End of Act One and is often a MAJOR SCENE. Major scenes have their own beginning, middle, and end.

In The Fugitive, Kimble is riding the bus, on his way to be executed. His fellow convicts plan an escape, but that backfires. A guard gets shot. Kimble, a doctor, is unchained to help the guard. The bus crashes. It crashes on a train track. The train is coming. Kimble has to escape from the train. Once he escapes from the train, a fellow convict frees him. Now he’s free…a fugitive on the run. And because he’s a fugitive, the US Marshalls get put on the case. This introduces Gerard, the antagonist and in some ways, a secondary protagonist.

In The Lion King, [Scar kills Mufasa and blames Simba, Simba runs away.]

In The Hunger Games, [Peeta declares his love for Katniss during the interview. She freaks out, but Haymitch teaches her that she needs to play up the audience to get sponsors]

complication

(See my deconstruction of Toy Story’s Act One and how it relates to the story’s theme.)

Any questions? Ask below. Just don’t include spoilers. If you disagree with my assignments of plot points, all the power to you, as long as you are thinking critically.

Next week I will devote the entire post to the Preparation and Problems segment, which nearly always takes up the longest chunk of narrative, and is what Blake Snyder calls “Fun and Games.”

The 8 Cs chart

The 8 C’s of Plotting: Prologue, Opening, Captivation, Change

This is Part 3 of The 8 C’s of Plotting. Read parts one and two first, if you please. Click here for the whole series on the 8 C’s. Click the image below to be taken to the General Fiction Feed.

I’m grouping all four of these parts of the 8 C’s together because, well, some authors do it all in one. single. sentence.

But before I get to examples, let me explain what these four elements are. And to really mess things up, I’m going to do it in the order you figure them out, NOT the order in which they appear in your book.

Change

The Change, or “inciting incident,” is what gives you a story. A character starts off with a sense of stability, something rocks the normalcy boat, and the protagonist is thrown into a sea of chaos. The boat gets shattered by a giant squid, the protagonist can’t swim, there are sharks in the water, and your guy floats on flotsam and jetsam until he gets to shore, where he finds a new stability. He kisses the sand, and the camera fades to black.

Normal->chaotic->normal. This is plot at its simplest.

The Change takes the character out of normal life and changes things. Hence the name. In Finding Nemo, it’s when Nemo gets bagged by a snorkeling dentist.

This is where you start thinking about the beginning of your book.

Opening

Your opening is anything that happens before the change. Do whatever you want with the opening—as long as you keep a reader’s attention. The opening can be your first line, it can be the first scene, or it can be the first chapter. It’s the calm before the chaos, the Status Quo before the inciting incident. Put the change in your first sentence, and your opening is a matter of words. Mind you, they need to be finely crafted, carefully chosen words. (I’ll get to opening lines in a minute.)

In the opening, give your protagonist likable features to make sure the reader likes him or her. Donna Macmeans calls these Rooting Interests, and she posts a list of them on her blog. When I started writing my novel, I didn’t like my protagonist. You know you’re in trouble when YOU don’t like your own main character. Solution? I got him punched in the face and watched him fight back. There. Now I like him.

To show an opposite example, I will never like Catcher in the Rye because Holden Caulfield annoys the crap out of me. To me, Holden is the phony one, not everybody he comes in contact with. (Just count how many times the word “phony” appears in that book.) If Salinger’s intent was to explore the irony of a teenager projecting his own phoniness, then I can appreciate the irony. I will still never pick it up again.

Prologue

If you desire to have your audience skip over a chapter of your novel, entitle it “Prologue.”

Seriously, so many people don’t read the prologue. I remember hearing of one author who’s own daughter skipped over his. I used to be a skipper. Apparently once I read a prologue that completely gave away the ending, because for years I assumed I’d stumble over a spoiler in that section. And I hate spoilers. My husband could hide my birthday present in plain sight, and I’d refuse to look at it until my birthday. He could put it in the refrigerator, and I’d be digging around in there with my eyes closed, using my sense of smell to guide me to the taco salad.

I’m glad I have a nice husband.

Anyway…what if you are writing something and it is ABSOLUTELY IMPERATIVE that you fill the reader in on something before the story starts? Well, if you ask me, you make it your first chapter. Take a hint from Ms. Rowling and just slap a “Chapter One” on that bad boy and be done with it. But it had better have the Captivation in the first paragraph, and you’d better put some foreshadowing or character building in there, too. Otherwise your editor, if she’s worth her salt, will scrap those pages for you. I could be wrong, but I don’t think anybody gets paid by the word anymore. In this day and age, if you want people to read what you have to say, ya’ll better get to the point.

Captivation

This is the first C because it is what makes or breaks a deal with a publisher, not because it necessarily comes first. It’s sort of floating around on the plotting diagram not only because it’s hard to pinpoint, but because it can happen in the opening or prologue, or it can be the statement of the change. The Captivation is what publishers call the “Hook.” To me, the hook is elusive. It might be a characteristic of the protagonist, the setting, an event, or a single sentence, the voice, the style of writing. Basically it depends on genre.

The one rule about “hooks” is this: the earlier it occurs, the better. If you can blow away your reader with the first line, you can guarantee they’ll read the next one. Your first chapter is the most important in the book, and your first line is the most important line. I’m not just talking about selling books, I’m talking about people reading your books. Publishers are readers, too. Let’s talk about opening lines, shall we?

Opening Lines

We are going to start with my favorite first line of all time.

“Once there was a boy called Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it.” —C.S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

Home run. Introduction of the character, characterization, and a humorous style.

Here’s my other personal favorite:

“The year that Buttercup was born, the most beautiful woman in the world was a French scullery maid named Annette.” —William Goldman, The Princess Bride

You can tell that I’m a sucker for a humorous narrator. This line begins with voice, setting, and if you pay attention, motif (beauty). It also makes it clear that, though it’s going to start talking about Annette, Buttercup is the main character.

Meredith Borders has an article on The Top 10 Best Opening Lines of Novels. In it, she says, “The first line should tell the reader what to expect in terms of language, plot and character. It should be mysterious and compelling, either poetic or shockingly abrupt.”

While I think her points are valid, I don’t completely agree. I think there’s a bit more leeway. First, I’d say that it should show (cough cough) the reader what to expect in terms of language or style, yes. If the rest of your book is poetic, then make your first line poetic. Just make sure it doesn’t look like somebody else wrote it.

Second, I’m not sure what she means by telling the reader what to expect in terms of plot. I assume she means theme, since she listed the first lines of Pride and Prejudice and Peter Pan in her list. And theme is the backbone of a good story. But plot is what happens in a story. Theme is why the story needs telling.

Third—what to expect in terms of language, plot and character—I’d use the conjunction “or” instead, since some opening lines use either plot or character, not both. I prefer characterizing in the first sentence, since it is a more concrete method than creating a lofty observation. To a writing teacher, concrete is always preferable to abstract. If you start with an abstract line, your second one best be specific and concrete. Otherwise use that observation to characterize a smarmy narrator.

Fourth, how about setting? My writing professors always beat us over the head with three things:

  1. Show, don’t tell.
  2. Concrete, not abstract.
  3. GROUNDING (That’s the war cry which translated means, “Be specific to paint a clear image.” If you use proper nouns, you are certainly grounding.)

Tolkien didn’t start The Hobbit with, “Some place a creature lived.” He also didn’t start with “There once was a hobbit.” He created setting and characterization in just ten words: “In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.”

Want 25 more openers? Check this out (some repeats are lengthened here).

Nine Ways to Start a Novel

There are other ways to start a novel. Roseanne Knorr lists nine:

  1. Startle
  2. Action
  3. Anecdote
  4. Dialogue
  5. Introduce protagonist
  6. Introduce conflict
  7. Establish setting
  8. Establish arena
  9. Generate Emotion and Personality

Read her explanations in the full article here. Notice she uses the word “capture” in the title, another word for “hook” or “captivate.”

Discussion

Think of your favorite books. How did they captivate you? What are your favorite opening lines? Comment below with your response.

Exercise

Write at least 3 different openings for the same story. You can use a current work in progress (WIP) or choose someone else’s novel to practice with. Consider which approach is your favorite.

Related post: WATCH, or: Where to Start and End your Novel

WATCH-01