Throwing the hero/ine into the quest
NaNoWriMo is upon us, again. I won't participate this year, but I take its start to also begin writing the next draft of my WiP. I have it all nicely summarized, except for one trifle: how to lay out the stakes before my MC (and the reader). The "Call to Adventure", as it is sometimes known, or Inciting Incident.
The Call should happen reasonably early in the story. It's the moment when the reader gets to know the main conflict (or something that is a plausible main conflict until something even bigger shows up). Also, the reader gets to know the stakes. The hero/ine must prevail, or else ... and whatever the "else" is, hopefully it gets the reader to care about the narrative proceedings.
I decided to have a look at some "Calls to adventure" from recent published first time novels (with a couple examples from more established authors thrown in as well), just to see what "the proper ways" to do this may be. But first, let's look at an example on how NOT to do a Call to adventure: my previous draft of my WiP.
In my first chapter, we meet Irhan, the seven year old son of a somewhat well off industrialist. He is introduced to a governess his father hired for him; she's weird and he wants to get rid of her. The perceptive reader may guess that his feelings are mostly caused by a fear of strangers and change, but it's also the case that Irhan witnesses the governess sneak back into the house late at night, agitated, with what looks like blood on her scarf.
Second chapter, we roll back the clock a bit to have the governess', aka Akera's, perspective. Aside from her origins in an orphanage we learn that she has a graffiti hobby, and the blood on her scarf is because that night she happened to witness some thugs attack a nightwatchman. She scares them off and calls for help, only breaking down when reaching the house. I'll spare the PoV ping-pong but it's only after chapter three that Akera receives what looks like a credible quest (against a worthy adversary) to be on.
It's probably obvious, but I'll try to articulate why this is terrible. An obvious complaint is that 9000 words or so is a lot to have to go through before something that looks like plot starts. Stephen King might get away with it, but not me.
However, another major complaint is that the story starts by quickly making a promise, then immediately and explicitly abandons it. If you read chapter 1, you would think this is a Nancy Drew style story with a kid detective who's after unmasking an intruder. Chapter 2 shatters that-- if it works at all then the reader is expected not to see Akera as a mysterious interloper but rather as sympathetic. She is one of the MCs after all. And, despite yanking the reader out of their initial expectation, the second chapter does not bring a new quest with it. Akera is afraid the watchman might recognize her, but this is hardly a conflict to base a plot on. And while it's clear that she and Irhan have a rocky relationship at the start, 7-year old Irhan isn't really a worthy adversary for an 18-year old MC. Not in a steampunk thriller.
Ok, so now let's see how some published first time novelists (and a seasoned one) got around to solving this problem. And the first observation is, it seems like the Prologue is making a comeback. (Was it ever gone?)
Ready Player One: it's a story about a kid looking for an easter egg/treasure in a computer game. Be the first to find an easter egg, and he becomes a gazillionaire, which matters to him because he's poor, and most of the world is destitute and dirty. We know all this, because a Prologue, thinly disguised as "Chapter 0000" informs us. (But BLAND, starting the count at 0 is just a geeky in-joke. Yes, but this Prologue, for that's what this is, is a condensed infodump about the world setting. Every other chapter has more dramatization.) This, pretty much, is the most "efficient"-- but not very refined-- approach from the examples I'll look at.
The Deathsniffer's Assistant: this book has a chapter it calls Prologue which is dramatized-- ie., it shows stuff by having characters do things, rather than being simple narration. In it, we see a Significant Past Event that is referred to several times later on. But it's also referred to very early. I don't have the book on me at the moment, but as far as I recall it's in the very first chapter that we learn the Significant Past Event has resulted in the MC being poor, needing to find a job so as to support himself and his younger sister, and having to make do with a rather appalling job for an appalling boss. By the end of chapter 2, this boss has our MC follow her around on a murder investigation, so by this time it's safe to say The Call has been delivered.
Three parts dead: also has a dramatized Prologue which shows an event which turns out to be the quest: a god has died and people must figure out what happened before things get worse. Chapter 1 introduces the protagonist, who's been kicked out of school and returns home to practice magic. She gets picked up by a magician/lawyer in the very same chapter, in a fairly efficient and cool "Call" scene (your skills aren't appreciated nor welcome here, come join me instead).
As far as I know, all the above were the first published novels of their respective authors. As you'd expect, they tend to introduce characters fast and a plausible main conflict sometimes even faster. The use of a Prologue is integral to the technique.
Ready Player One has the simplest approach. Just tell the reader. This is very basic, but it can work if the voice of the character/narrator can pull it off and/or the genre supports it. I feel like voice-over narrations are kind of established in pop-culture, and Ready Player One is targeted at the kind of people who can quote entire films by heart, especially from the 80s.
Deathsniffer and Three parts use the Prologue in a more interesting way. Essentially, there is a tension between goals a writer has for a beginning. On the one hand, you want to get to the Call quickly, but on the other hand starting in medias res has its own problems. If you don't know who's involved in the action you don't really have a reason to care.
Three parts, and to some extent Deathsniffer, use the Prologue to have the cake and eat it too. The medias res start works because it's a short vignette that can sustain itself on the energy of its own premise. Then the first chapter establishes the MC, and by the end of chapter two the Call shows up for the MC so that the plot proper can begin.
The difference between the Deathsniffer and Three parts dead approach is the relation of the Prologue to the main conflict. In Deathsniffer, it's not related to the main conflict of that book (it is related to the main conflict of the series, but that's something else). What it does do is provide a way to show why the MC's situation is what it is, and why their status quo cannot be maintained and hence they need to go off on an adventure.
Three parts is a bit simpler: the Prologue shows you what the MC's quest will be about, whoever this MC turns out to be. Then chapter one fills in that detail; we get to know the MC, care about her, and then connect her to the mystery plot.
Finally, let's look at Neil Gaiman's Ocean at the end of the lane. Unlike the previous books, which came at the beginning of their writers' careers, by the time Gaiman published Ocean he could probably package his own poo and find someone willing to buy it. It is however a very relevant book for my WiP-- Ursula Monckton is the spiritual mother of Akera Athros. (But while you might not wish Ursula on your enemies, you'd definitely be happy with Akera taking care of your children).
Ocean also starts with a prologue, surprise surprise. However, what can be called inciting incident/the Call happens way over in chapter four (or five, depending on how stringent I want to be). This is not an entirely fair comparison, since Ocean's chapters tend to be short, but even so, it's definitely the case that Gaiman spends a lot of time setting up the MC and what is his "normal", status quo existence. Also, in Ocean, the Prologue has no relation to the inciting incident or Call. It's there simply as a framing device.
It's tempting to say Gaiman's relaxed pace is simply him growing too big for editors. I think there's quite the grain of truth to that. But it is also true that Gaiman is a great writer, who knows how to keep promising the reader that something magical is just around the corner, and something important is just about to be revealed. That the reader believes him may be because of all that Gaiman has written until now, but maybe also because of how he wrote this particular book.
Some techniques are obvious: chapter three ends with "she said [we'd be fine]. But we weren't." But there's more: the "normal" of the MC is filled with the conflicts of childhood-- bad peers, family problems, loss of a beloved pet. The MC lives in more ways than a passenger of the plot, and what makes Ocean particularly strong is how these adversities of childhood acquire a magical veneer. The child doesn't know the world, and it may well be that the lake in the neighbors' garden is an ocean, and that the neighbors themselves are witches older than time. The magical reinterpretation of the mundane is Ocean's (and Gaiman's) chief strength, and it can carry a lot, story-wise.
Upon finishing this post, I'm not yet decided on how to tackle my own Call/inciting incident problem. But I think I have a few points to use ...
The Call should happen reasonably early in the story. It's the moment when the reader gets to know the main conflict (or something that is a plausible main conflict until something even bigger shows up). Also, the reader gets to know the stakes. The hero/ine must prevail, or else ... and whatever the "else" is, hopefully it gets the reader to care about the narrative proceedings.
I decided to have a look at some "Calls to adventure" from recent published first time novels (with a couple examples from more established authors thrown in as well), just to see what "the proper ways" to do this may be. But first, let's look at an example on how NOT to do a Call to adventure: my previous draft of my WiP.
In my first chapter, we meet Irhan, the seven year old son of a somewhat well off industrialist. He is introduced to a governess his father hired for him; she's weird and he wants to get rid of her. The perceptive reader may guess that his feelings are mostly caused by a fear of strangers and change, but it's also the case that Irhan witnesses the governess sneak back into the house late at night, agitated, with what looks like blood on her scarf.
Second chapter, we roll back the clock a bit to have the governess', aka Akera's, perspective. Aside from her origins in an orphanage we learn that she has a graffiti hobby, and the blood on her scarf is because that night she happened to witness some thugs attack a nightwatchman. She scares them off and calls for help, only breaking down when reaching the house. I'll spare the PoV ping-pong but it's only after chapter three that Akera receives what looks like a credible quest (against a worthy adversary) to be on.
It's probably obvious, but I'll try to articulate why this is terrible. An obvious complaint is that 9000 words or so is a lot to have to go through before something that looks like plot starts. Stephen King might get away with it, but not me.
However, another major complaint is that the story starts by quickly making a promise, then immediately and explicitly abandons it. If you read chapter 1, you would think this is a Nancy Drew style story with a kid detective who's after unmasking an intruder. Chapter 2 shatters that-- if it works at all then the reader is expected not to see Akera as a mysterious interloper but rather as sympathetic. She is one of the MCs after all. And, despite yanking the reader out of their initial expectation, the second chapter does not bring a new quest with it. Akera is afraid the watchman might recognize her, but this is hardly a conflict to base a plot on. And while it's clear that she and Irhan have a rocky relationship at the start, 7-year old Irhan isn't really a worthy adversary for an 18-year old MC. Not in a steampunk thriller.
Ok, so now let's see how some published first time novelists (and a seasoned one) got around to solving this problem. And the first observation is, it seems like the Prologue is making a comeback. (Was it ever gone?)
Ready Player One: it's a story about a kid looking for an easter egg/treasure in a computer game. Be the first to find an easter egg, and he becomes a gazillionaire, which matters to him because he's poor, and most of the world is destitute and dirty. We know all this, because a Prologue, thinly disguised as "Chapter 0000" informs us. (But BLAND, starting the count at 0 is just a geeky in-joke. Yes, but this Prologue, for that's what this is, is a condensed infodump about the world setting. Every other chapter has more dramatization.) This, pretty much, is the most "efficient"-- but not very refined-- approach from the examples I'll look at.
The Deathsniffer's Assistant: this book has a chapter it calls Prologue which is dramatized-- ie., it shows stuff by having characters do things, rather than being simple narration. In it, we see a Significant Past Event that is referred to several times later on. But it's also referred to very early. I don't have the book on me at the moment, but as far as I recall it's in the very first chapter that we learn the Significant Past Event has resulted in the MC being poor, needing to find a job so as to support himself and his younger sister, and having to make do with a rather appalling job for an appalling boss. By the end of chapter 2, this boss has our MC follow her around on a murder investigation, so by this time it's safe to say The Call has been delivered.
Three parts dead: also has a dramatized Prologue which shows an event which turns out to be the quest: a god has died and people must figure out what happened before things get worse. Chapter 1 introduces the protagonist, who's been kicked out of school and returns home to practice magic. She gets picked up by a magician/lawyer in the very same chapter, in a fairly efficient and cool "Call" scene (your skills aren't appreciated nor welcome here, come join me instead).
As far as I know, all the above were the first published novels of their respective authors. As you'd expect, they tend to introduce characters fast and a plausible main conflict sometimes even faster. The use of a Prologue is integral to the technique.
Ready Player One has the simplest approach. Just tell the reader. This is very basic, but it can work if the voice of the character/narrator can pull it off and/or the genre supports it. I feel like voice-over narrations are kind of established in pop-culture, and Ready Player One is targeted at the kind of people who can quote entire films by heart, especially from the 80s.
Deathsniffer and Three parts use the Prologue in a more interesting way. Essentially, there is a tension between goals a writer has for a beginning. On the one hand, you want to get to the Call quickly, but on the other hand starting in medias res has its own problems. If you don't know who's involved in the action you don't really have a reason to care.
Three parts, and to some extent Deathsniffer, use the Prologue to have the cake and eat it too. The medias res start works because it's a short vignette that can sustain itself on the energy of its own premise. Then the first chapter establishes the MC, and by the end of chapter two the Call shows up for the MC so that the plot proper can begin.
The difference between the Deathsniffer and Three parts dead approach is the relation of the Prologue to the main conflict. In Deathsniffer, it's not related to the main conflict of that book (it is related to the main conflict of the series, but that's something else). What it does do is provide a way to show why the MC's situation is what it is, and why their status quo cannot be maintained and hence they need to go off on an adventure.
Three parts is a bit simpler: the Prologue shows you what the MC's quest will be about, whoever this MC turns out to be. Then chapter one fills in that detail; we get to know the MC, care about her, and then connect her to the mystery plot.
Finally, let's look at Neil Gaiman's Ocean at the end of the lane. Unlike the previous books, which came at the beginning of their writers' careers, by the time Gaiman published Ocean he could probably package his own poo and find someone willing to buy it. It is however a very relevant book for my WiP-- Ursula Monckton is the spiritual mother of Akera Athros. (But while you might not wish Ursula on your enemies, you'd definitely be happy with Akera taking care of your children).
Ocean also starts with a prologue, surprise surprise. However, what can be called inciting incident/the Call happens way over in chapter four (or five, depending on how stringent I want to be). This is not an entirely fair comparison, since Ocean's chapters tend to be short, but even so, it's definitely the case that Gaiman spends a lot of time setting up the MC and what is his "normal", status quo existence. Also, in Ocean, the Prologue has no relation to the inciting incident or Call. It's there simply as a framing device.
It's tempting to say Gaiman's relaxed pace is simply him growing too big for editors. I think there's quite the grain of truth to that. But it is also true that Gaiman is a great writer, who knows how to keep promising the reader that something magical is just around the corner, and something important is just about to be revealed. That the reader believes him may be because of all that Gaiman has written until now, but maybe also because of how he wrote this particular book.
Some techniques are obvious: chapter three ends with "she said [we'd be fine]. But we weren't." But there's more: the "normal" of the MC is filled with the conflicts of childhood-- bad peers, family problems, loss of a beloved pet. The MC lives in more ways than a passenger of the plot, and what makes Ocean particularly strong is how these adversities of childhood acquire a magical veneer. The child doesn't know the world, and it may well be that the lake in the neighbors' garden is an ocean, and that the neighbors themselves are witches older than time. The magical reinterpretation of the mundane is Ocean's (and Gaiman's) chief strength, and it can carry a lot, story-wise.
Upon finishing this post, I'm not yet decided on how to tackle my own Call/inciting incident problem. But I think I have a few points to use ...
- I won't try to be Gaiman yet. It's nice to be able to maintain suspense, but let's walk before flying and use an efficient structure to compensate for writerly inexperience and lack of reputation.
- Use a Prologue. It's a great way to start in medias res without committing to a break-neck pace that hampers MC introduction.
- Consider which cards can be sacrificed to an early revelation. Three parts dead shows the mystery from the beginning, because what's really important is whodunnit (and that stays hidden until the end).
Fascinating!
ReplyDeleteIt occurs to me that there's an interesting tension between (a) throwing the reader into the conflict, and (b) showing the reader the MC's "normal" so the contrast is clear. If we start with the MC in conflict, then the only way to paint the normal state is to flow it into the story in passing, as we do with most F&SF worldbuilding.
Indeed, and this is why prologues give an interesting opportunity to do both a medias res start on a brief "action" scene unconnected to the MC, and continue with an MC "normal" in chapter 1.
DeleteIt's not like it's a new technique, but I've certainly noticed it in recent debut books. Twice is coincidence, three times a trend? ;)
Cheers.