The Shape of Stories

The first time I ever worked out who dun it just by realising there was only one major character left not cleared of suspicion was when reading one of Max Gladstone’s books (which are fantastic beyond fathoming). I didn’t know how, I didn’t know why, but I knew that there was only way a professional author was taking this set up. I knew the shape of the story.

And I wasn’t all that pleased.

Since then, I’ve been having little niggles at the back of my brain from time to time, all to do with recognising the shape of the story. Now, I love analysing stories and what makes them tick, but when I’m reading for pleasure, I’m generally not thinking all that much. The analytical part of me is only woken up if prodded and when it wakes, it tends to start savaging whatever is in front of it like a pack of hungry dogs with a single steak.

When reading the following article by MD Presley some of my thoughts on this started to coalesce as to just why its so important not to let the story's shape be so obvious.

I believe that at the very heart of storytelling, the most important thing is that we are asking our audience to agree with us that we’re saying is something that could have happened. It’s often hung with a million caveats, like magic being real or owls and pussycats going boating together, but we are saying either “This is what happened” or “Maybe this could have happened”. We storytellers are nothing without credibility. Even the most far-fetched absurdist is sunk if people start going “but no one would react like that, this isn’t real at all”. Not that it has to be real mind; it just has to feel real. We are in the business of selling verisimilitude.

Which is why things like Chekhov’s Gun is important. Our audience know we’re liars (if I ever make it I’m having professional liar put on my business cards) and they’re okay with it, but they want a framework to the lies so they can play along at home. It has to make sense. It has to feel real. We can’t have things suddenly appear out of nowhere because that makes them remember that they’re not real. So far so obvious.

But of course there is an issue and that is the one Matt has identified – it is telegraphing what will happen. And if it telegraphs too much, if we start running out of ways to the use the gun, then he shape of the story is too obvious. And if something is too obvious, if it feels too convenient, it begins to press against the belief that this could have happened.

How to manage this depends partly on genre. Chekhov’s Gun makes a lot of sense for those working in constrained mediums. But if one is writing Epic Fantasy, which deliberately seeks to tell the tales that don’t work in constraints, or mysteries where obfuscating the shape of the story is rather important, then it maybe shouldn't be following all that close. If one is writing both, it creates issues multiplied. But you still need framing devices. You still need foreshadowing.

One idea I’d like to suggest (it’s probably been suggested far better by someone else) is a market stall. If there is only one object of importance present in the first act, then the shroud over the story’s shape is very fragile. If there is only one object of importance and a lot of red herrings, then once we’ve disposed of the herrings, we’re back to the same problem. There’s nothing wrong with thing in and of itself, but there is if every story is some variation on those two.

If there are many objects of importance, then the reader is left with a logic puzzle of what goes where and even if they think they know one of the answers, they’re unsure. The most obvious example I can think of is the many unfulfilled prophecies and potential claimants left in GoT, but it can just as easily work with multiple crimes and multiple suspects. I can think of one detective story that answered the question of who tried to kill the victim by having it revealed that they all tried.

Is this going to work for every story? No. But then, it would be bad if this was every story as well.

Are there any other ways? Part of me wants to know how late you can leave it to introduce a major character or plot point and what needs to be done to make that work (major foreshadowing I suspect; Chekov’s empty holster?) Part of me wants to know if you can get away with shooting Chekhov’s gun at the halfway mark and sending the plot on a crazy right turn at that point rather during the third act (which of course still leaves you free to reload it and fire again right at the end); part of me suspects this is what GRR Martin has actually done.

And, of course, there is the careful usage and timing of one or two objects to create a very tight, very suspenseful plot. It would be beyond foolish to say this isn't an option. 

But when looking for ways to avoid giving away the shapes of our stories, we should always be looking for new spins. And we should always be careful about giving away too much.