Early Introduction

Being the fourth part of a seven-part series based on Your New Favorite Writer’s recent WWA workshop “A Bulletproof Beginning: Five Ways to Anchor Your Story in Urgency from Word One.”

I can’t tell you how to write a great beginning. But here are FIVE BIG IDEAS—three Dos and two Donts—that ought to help quite a bit:

  1. Engage the reader immediately.
  2. Do not drown the reader in information. 
  3. Introduce important characters and plots early. 
  4. Do not let INFORMATION bog down the profluence of the narrative. 
  5. Shape early action toward later plot points.

This week, let’s look at the third Big Idea: Introduce important characters and plots early. 

Why?

The opening is the most important part of your book for engaging readers and getting them to read the whole book. The main characters and plots are the heart and substance of your story. If they don’t show up early on, the opening is cheated, the characters and plots are cheated, the reader is cheated, and you the author are cheated.

Important Characters

The important characters are the major characters: protagonist, antagonist, leading allies of the protagonist or antagonist, and operational or catalyst characters who trigger main plot points.

The Big Bad Wolf. Disney Pictures. Fair use.

The protagonist is not necessarily a good guy. Think of the Big Bad Wolf in the tale about the Three Little Pigs. It’s the hungry wolf who makes the story happen. His fondness for pork is the root of all action. We may not want him to achieve his desire, but we are deeply invested in the question of whether or not he does.

The Antagonist is the chief obstacle to the protagonist’s quest. The antagonist may be an impersonal force, as in Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea. More commonly, the antagonist is a person whose interests collide with those of the protagonist. If the protagonist is a good guy, then the antagonist is a villain. Or if, as in “The Three Little Pigs,” the protagonist is a villain, then the antagonist—the wise and doughty little pig who built with bricks—is a hero.

Both protagonist and antagonist have allies or helpers. Some of those allies are minor characters, but the chief allies are major characters. A hero’s allies we call sidekicks; a villain’s allies are henchmen. If one or two of these will play important roles, they should appear in the early pages—at least before the beginning of Act II*, when your story shifts into high gear. 

*It is very useful to know something of traditional three-act story structure. I recommend Syd Field’s book, Screenplay: The Foundations of Screenwriting, a simple, straightforward introduction to story structure. It applies to prose fiction or narrative nonfiction just as much as to movie scripts. 

Uncle Billy realizing he is about to kick the movie into Act III. Paramount Pictures. Fair use.

Important Catalysts—characters who may not be main plot drivers but who do something that injects a key plot point—should also be introduced early. Is a catalyst character is important? Well, how important is that character’s action to the plot? Think of Uncle Billy, portrayed by Thomas Mitchell in the movie It’s a Wonderful Life, which almost everyone has seen. Uncle Billy doesn’t do much in the film, except at a key point his action or inaction triggers the major crisis of the story. I won’t say more, in case you are the one person who has never seen the film and you still want to be surprised. Suffice it to say that Uncle Billy’s one major contribution to the plot occurs rather late. It’s really, I believe, the thing that kicks Act II into Act III. But because that contribution is critical, director Frank Capra makes sure we know who Uncle Billy is, and what kind of a person he is, by giving him little bits of business that build his character all through the movie, from Act I on. 

Go thou and do likewise, Gentle Reader.

Important Plots

All stories, or almost all stories, have a Main Plot, also called “the A Plot.” If you cannot discern a main plot, it’s either a failed story or an “experimental” narrative. You probably want to have nothing to do with either. You probably want your story to have a clearly delineated main plot. 

The length of the main plot defines the duration of the story. The main plot shows up early by definition. It is that sequence of causally-related events that reflects the struggles of the protagonist and the counter-moves of the antagonist, and that results in the protagonist getting his or her desire, or not. If a plot does not start to show its face in Act I, it’s not the main plot. 

Most good stories also have one or more Secondary Plots, sometimes called subplots, sometimes referred to as “B Plot,” “C Plot,” and so forth. These plots involve secondary, but still important, characters; or they involve another aspect of the protagonist’s quest. Secondary plots develop alongside the main plot, complement it, sometimes mirror it, and add interest and complexity. Think of a romantic comedy. The main plot brings the leading romantic characters together; and there’s almost always a subplot that unites the secondary romantic characters. 

Such plots, like the main plot, tend to last throughout the story. They start early, usually in the first act, and are often resolved along with the main plot in a sort of neat bundle. For example, the main romantic couple and the secondary romantic couple may celebrate a double wedding. Check Shakespeare.

There is no rule about secondary plots, but most good stories will have one, two, or three that stand out. That is, a B plot, a C plot, maybe even a D plot. These develop in tandem, weave around one another, and add to the strength and meaning of the main plot. For example, the Scarecrow, the Lion, and the Tin Man all have secondary plots alongside Dorothy’s main plot in The Wizard of Oz.

There are smaller subplots—but enough with the capital letters, already! These minor subplots may involve a minor character and last for a brief time. They may intersect with a key part of the main plot, like Uncle Billy’s fateful action late in It’s a Wonderful Life. Or maybe they may be a brief distraction—comic relief, for example—in the otherwise long, unrelieved tension of the second act. When one of these little bitty subplots works well, and stays within its limits, it is like the sparkle on a diamond. 

Next week: Do not let INFORMATION bog down the profluence of the narrative.

Blessings,

Larry F. Sommers

Your New Favorite Writer

A Bulletproof Beginning

Last Friday, I had the good fortune to present a workshop titled “A Bulletproof Beginning: Five Ways to Anchor Your Story in Urgency from Word One” at the annual Wisconsin Writers Association Conference, held in Stevens Point. 

I say “good fortune” for several reasons:

  • I got paid.
  • I heard the sound of my own voice—sweet music to my ears, indeed.
  • Most of all, I was with 175 friends of the Writing Persuasion—folks who have an itch they can scratch only by setting pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard. These friends understand one another’s need. About sixty of the 175 attended my breakout session.
Some of my good friends relaxing just before my workshop last Friday.

A lot of people have told me they got something good out of it. 

So, why keep it to myself? For readers who did not have the opportunity to attend, I will try to encapsulate a 50-minute talk in the next seven weekly blog posts.  

Here goes:

A Bulletproof Beginning

Aristotle, right, argues with Plato (strongly resembling Leonardo da Vinci) in this detail from “The School of Athens” by Renaissance painter Raphael (1483-1520). Public Domain.

Dear Reader, a philosopher named Aristotle said, about 2,400 years ago, that every story has a beginning . . . a middle . . . and an end. That may seem obvious, but apparently nobody before Aristotle thought to write it down. 

And nobody since Aristotle has gone much beyond that simple observation in explaining story structure. If you want to hassle me about Joseph Campbell’s/ Christopher Vogler’s Twelve Stages of the Hero’s Journey, or about Blake Snyder’s Fifteen-Beat “Save the Cat” structure—sure, let’s have that argument someday. But in the meantime, consider:

Of the three parts of a story, the beginning is most important. Why?

Because if your beginning is no good, no reader will experience the joys of the middle and end. They won’t stick around.

More so, if the reader is an agent, editor, or publisher considering your story for publication or film production. Typically, such mandarins want the first ten pages included with a cold query. But that does not mean they will read ten pages. 

No. They will read maybe one page. Or maybe just the first paragraph. And if that doesn’t knock their socks off, they’re done. They have a lot of scripts to read. You must earn your way to the second and subsequent pages. 

Most of all, the beginning is important because it establishes the conditions under which the rest of the story plays out. The break into Act II, the many twists and turns thereafter, the great change of color and tenor at mid-point, the swiftening action as you move into Act III, the exciting climax and final denouement—all are present in embryo in the beginning of the story. If they’re not, it won’t work.

Studio publicity photo of Billy Wilder and Gloria Swanson on the set of Sunset Boulevard, ca. 1950. Public Domain.

By the way, Gentle Reader, did you ever notice how many lectures, workshops, or articles about story construction for prose fiction rely heavily on movies for their examples? Here’s the reason: Owing to the format and function of film scripts, the screenwriter has nowhere to hide from the need for STRUCTURE.

A seasoned scripter can sit in a darkened movie house, discern the arrival of the Great Change at Midpoint, look at his watch, see that 58 minutes have elapsed, and predict—with dead accuracy—that the film’s total run time will be 116 minutes. It’s really that cut and dried. It’s all about structure. 

The beginning is the first great pillar of structure in any story, filmic or otherwise. That’s why it’s important. 

As I told my friendly audience last Friday, I cannot tell you how to write a good beginning. It’s your story, you figure it out. 

But here are FIVE BIG IDEAS—three Dos and two Donts—that ought to help quite a bit:

  1. Engage the reader immediately
  2. Do not drown the reader in information. 
  3. Introduce important characters and plots early. 
  4. Do not let INFORMATION bog down the profluence of the narrative. 
  5. Shape early action toward later plot points.

Now, Dear Reader, go ponder these things in your heart. Come back at this time next week, and we will consider Point 1: How to engage the reader immediately.

Blessings,

Larry F. Sommers

Your New Favorite Writer