The great American author, Edna St. Vincent Millay, once wrote
that she couldn’t get the woman onto the porch. What she meant, of course, was
that she couldn’t figure out an organically sound reason for the character to
do as the plot demanded.
I struggle with this situation all the time. Plotting a mystery is, for me, a
combination of architecture and sleight of hand. I lay the foundation, plan the
structure, and use language to entice my readers to pay attention to something
over here while something else is happening over there, unnoticed. In order for
this complex process to flow seamlessly, I need to create characters whose
actions mesh with the plot’s development.
It’s hard. If I have a boorish man, for instance, who blusters and creates
awkward moments, certainly my readers will focus on him. But if, later, the
plot demands that the character finesse something, I’m sunk. A boorish man who
blusters would never finesse anything. Reconciling these two needs—a solid,
architecturally sound plot and actions driven not by the plot’s needs but by
the characters’ personalities is, for me, the most challenging part of writing.
How do I do it? I don’t know. I don’t know why, when I’m mentally outlining the
plot, I know that a certain female character is well-dressed and socially
savvy. The fact that she is, however, becomes important later in the plot—she
hosts a ladies’ luncheon. It’s a good thing she’s that sort of woman because I
needed her to host that event—but I didn’t know that the luncheon would occur
when I started to write the book—at least not consciously.
I’ve concluded that much of the intricacy of plotting occurs on some
unconscious level. For instance, I know that when I need to resolve something,
I get the problem clear in my head just before I go to sleep, and when I awaken—
I have the answer. Sleeping on it, for me, actually works when I need to figure
out how to get the woman onto the porch.
Maybe it’s that my cats sleep on my pillow—sometimes on my head. Here’s Angela,
my love bunny, at the foot of the bed.
8 comments posted.
That's because women are so busy multi-tasking that the only time to contemplate is when we are sleeping!
(Karin Tillotson 10:50am April 21, 2009)
Oh, the things we solve while in the throes of sleep. If only life worked out as planned, but would that leave enough room or space for the unexpected. As a kid, I remember the cat insisted on attention by dropping bobby pins on the dresser until I got up and hid them again.
(Alyson Widen 11:12am April 21, 2009)
I've often found the same thing to be true. If I'm stuck on how to write a line, I'll wake up in the middle of the night with just the write answer!
(LuAnn Morgan 12:30pm April 21, 2009)
The best ideas come to me when I'm nowhere near the computer or pen/paper. Like when I'm changing diapers, or waiting to pick up my son from school. Great post, Jane!
(Amy Alessio 1:29pm April 21, 2009)