Plotting the short story

The complicated plot in its development calls for a fertile imagination and a natural aptitude for mental gymnastics. It usually proves to be the despair of the writer deficient in creative ability, and even the more imaginative author sometimes finds himself hopelessly entangled in its meshes. The simple plot, as we have shown, never swerves from a straight line; the complicated plot, on the other hand, may lead us off into divers by-paths, each ending in a cul-de-sac, from which the writer has to blaze a way back to the main idea. The difference between the two types of plots is traceable to the basic idea. Methods of development are the same in both cases. The thing the writer has most to fear in unfolding a complicated plot is the danger of becoming lost in one or more of the many side-issues that make this type of plot what it is, and until he becomes familiar with its intricacies, he should move slowly and never let the major idea remain long out of sight. Complicated plots form the basis of most mystery and adventure stories, and in fact, the majority of other stories of more than three thousand words in length.

For our first analysis, let us take the following sentence, or rather, part of a sentence, extracted from a recent book-length portrayal of life in the West Virginia mountains: “Melissa took the blood-oath ... and swore to shoot Blaze on sight.” A promising plot nucleus, because it is atmospheric.

We now glance at the Chart for Plot Construction and choose the most suitable field for the growth of this germ-plot, which is, we believe, as follows: Action—adventure; Time—present; Setting—mountains; Characters—uncertain; Atmosphere—doubtful; Mood—doubtful, but possibly hate or revenge.

As we want our characters to be original, we at once change the girl’s name to Dawn, and the man’s name to Jerry, and begin our probe by asking:

1. What is a blood-oath?
2. Who is Jerry?
3. Why should Dawn desire his death?

Having consulted one of our mountaineer friends in regard to the first question, we promptly reply:

1. A vendetta sworn by a feudist against another feudist of a hostile clan.
2. Dawn’s lover.
3. He may have betrayed her trust, or perhaps, duelled with and killed one of her kinsmen.

Excellent! It appears that our principal characters are feudists and are identified with different factions. As we like plenty of action in our plots, this sounds promising. But to proceed with our inquiry:

1. Did Jerry really kill Dawn’s kinsman (the duel appearing the most promising of the two possibilities)?
2. If not, why has the finger of guilt been pointed at him?

After due reflection, we would say:

1. No. (The slain man is Dawn’s kinsman, let us say her cousin, and if our story is to have the “happy ending,” it would never do for the girl’s lover to be the murderer.)
2. Dawn’s cousin, whom we will call Boyd for the sake of convenience, has been killed by some unknown person, and relatives have accused Jerry, whom they bitterly hate because of his relations with their kinswoman, of the murder.

All right. Now we want to know:

1. How and when did Dawn first hear the rumor that Jerry is guilty of the crime?
2. How did it react on her?

In reply, let us say:

1. When the dying man is brought to her cabin in the mountains.
2. As it would on any normal girl. She believes her lover to be innocent, and, having heard her kinsmen swear to avenge Boyd’s death, leaps upon her horse to fly to Jerry to give him warning.

A brave and noble act, and quite in keeping with the character of the average mountain girl; but we must not forget her kinsmen who are of the same fibre that she is, and quite as determined to slay Jerry as she is to save him.

Therefore:

1. Is she pursued?
2. Does she reach Jerry in time?
3. Does he protest his innocence?
4. And, if the girl is followed by her kinsmen, does Jerry fight it out with them or “take to the timbers”?

After weighing the possibilities of each question, we would say:

1. Yes.
2. Yes.
3. He does not have time to do so, and leaves the girl in doubt.
4. He escapes.

Very well. Now it is necessary for us to know:

1. What becomes of Jerry?
2. Is he pursued and captured?
3. What develops?

And in reply:

1. He goes into hiding in the mountains.
2. He is pursued by the feudists but eludes them.
3. Suppose we say he hid in the mountains until nightfall and then went to the cabin of one of his kinsmen for food. He then learns, let us say, that Dawn has become convinced that he killed Boyd, after hearing two of her relatives falsely swear that they witnessed the deed, and, regretting the part she played in his—Jerry’s—escape, has taken the blood-oath and sworn to avenge her favorite cousin’s death by shooting Jerry on sight. All of which, it should be said, is very characteristic of the untamed mountain girl.

Here we have a pretty situation and one that requires delicate handling. But, before proceeding, we should ascertain:

1. What effect did this news have on Jerry?
2. What was the result of its reaction on him?

As Jerry is a mountaineer it is very likely that:

1. He took the news calmly, and,
2. Again sought refuge in the solitudes of the mountains until he could decide upon his future course of action.

This, of course, makes it necessary for us to know:

1. What did Jerry decide to do? and,
2. What, in the meantime, has become of his pursuers?

Suppose we say:

1. Dawn finds her lover before he reaches any decision.
2. They have lost or abandoned Jerry’s trail.

Good. Dawn, bent upon avenging her cousin’s death, has now run Jerry to earth, and without a doubt is preparing to shoot him down. But she must never be allowed to kill the man she loves. This would be a tragedy that would ruin our chances of giving the plot a happy ending. But Dawn has shown herself to be the kind of girl no ordinary event could keep from her purpose. How, then, are we going to convince her of Jerry’s innocence before she has the chance to open up with her Winchester and make a sieve out of his body? It is not likely that she would believe anything he might say in his own defence. That is not a woman’s way. Therefore:

1. What circumstance or set of circumstances can we invent to gain the unfortunate lover an hour’s respite?
2. In the circumstances we evolve, what action does the girl take?
3. What would be a logical conclusion to the unhappy situation?

Let us give our imaginations a chance, always keeping in mind the climax which we are now swiftly approaching. Suppose we say that:

1. Jerry’s father (dyed-in-the-wool feudist) has been thrown from his horse and mortally injured and has asked to see Jerry before he dies.
2. Dawn (very much of a woman at heart) has promised the old feudist that she will bring Jerry to tell him good-bye before he dies, if she can find him.
3. The girl hears Jerry’s father, on his death-bed, confess to his son to having killed Boyd in self-defence.

All of which is quite satisfactory. We have unearthed a ripping climax and are now ready to build our plot. We will therefore read over our analysis again and search out the inciting motive. This, without a doubt, is found in the murder of Boyd. We now look around for the crisis, and find two—the first being when Dawn flees into the night to warn Jerry of his danger, and the second, when Jerry is told that his sweetheart has sworn to kill him. The crucial situation, of course, is when Jerry and the girl stand face to face after she has tracked him down; and the climax, when Dawn overhears the death-bed confession of Jerry’s father.

We now have our bearings, and by drawing freely from the facts disclosed by our analysis, draw up, without much difficulty, the following working plot:

(Inciting motive) Wounded man is brought to Dawn’s cabin by kinsmen who found him dying by the roadside. (First incident of plot development) Boyd dies in spite of all efforts to save him. (First moment of suspense) Dawn asks for information relative to the shooting. (Second incident of plot development) Clansmen declare Boyd was murdered by Jerry. (Cause of first crisis) Feudists make preparation to hunt down Jerry. (First crisis) Dawn leaps upon her horse and, pursued by her kinsmen, begins a mad race down the mountain-side to warn her lover of his danger. (Second moment of suspense) Finds him, warns him, and beseeches him to declare his innocence before they separate. (Third incident of plot development) Jerry, not having time to comply with her request because of the approach of her kinsmen, hastily kisses her, and touches only the high spots as he takes to the woods. (Cause of second crisis) Goes to kinsman’s cabin. (Second crisis) He learns that Dawn has become convinced of his guilt and has sworn to “shoot him on sight.” (Fourth incident of plot development) Jerry again goes into hiding. (Crucial situation) He is confronted by Dawn, who has tracked him to his hiding-place. (Fifth incident of plot development) Dawn tells him his father is dying, and that she is going to grant him—Jerry—an hour’s respite so he can tell the old man farewell. (Cause of climax) At the point of her rifle Dawn takes him over the mountain to his father’s cabin. (Climax) The girl overhears the father on his death-bed confess to the slaying of Boyd. (Denouement and conclusion) The lovers again find happiness in each other’s arms.

There we have our plot, nor did we find the building of it very difficult. This plot, which could be written into a very exciting short story by a capable writer, is a good example of the moderate type of complicated plot.

We will now try something more complicated. The following is a condensed news item clipped from one of the daily papers:

“A man is found dead in a restaurant with a beer stein in his hand and a scrap of paper lying by his body with the following words scribbled on it: ‘Vile chi tradisce il segrets del confidente.’”

Instantly there flashes into our mind a corking title, “The Mug of Death.” With this as a “lead” we glance at our Chart and “place” our germ-plot as follows: Action—detective; Time—present; Setting—city; Characters—doubtful; Mood—revenge.

Now we plunge bravely into the maze of possibilities that opens up before us:

1. How was the man killed? (a) murdered? (b) suicide? (c) natural death?
2. If he was murdered, how was it done?
3. Did his body show marks of violence?
4. Who was responsible for his death? (This, of course, depending on whether or not he was murdered.)
5. Who was he?
6. What was in the stein?
7. What does “Vile chi tradisce il segrets del confidente” mean?
8. Who found the body and notified the police?

The following answers occur to us instantly:

1. He was murdered.
2. Poison.
3. No.
4. Unknown.
5. Not identified.
6. Nothing.
7. “He is a coward who betrays a confidential secret.”
8. The proprietor of the restaurant.

Before going further it might be wise to inquire:

1. What was the motive for the crime?
2. Whom do the police suspect?

And in reply:

1. The legend found by the dead man’s side suggests revenge.
2. A waiter in the restaurant, though they have no evidence upon which to arrest him.

Now, no weapons were found near the dead man, nor are there any marks of violence on his body. We have suggested that he was poisoned, but the inside of the stein was dry and therefore could have held no liquid. Some deadly gas, then. But how could gas be confined in a beer stein? Easily, by fastening down the top with a thin rim of white wax, boring a small hole in the bottom of the stein, forcing in the gas and plugging up the hole again. When the top was opened (which could be easily accomplished by a slight pressure on the edge) the victim would get a good whiff of the gas and fall back dead, while the superfluous gas would escape and leave no trace of how the crime was committed.

This naturally leads us to the following questions:

1. What kind of gas was it?
2. Who was responsible for the diabolical plan?

Offhand we would say:

1. Carbon monoxide, which is one of the deadliest gases we have.
2. It must have been an “inside” job, and was doubtless “pulled off” by a waiter or the proprietor of the restaurant, who was a member of a Black Hand society. This last is suggested by the words on the scrap of paper found by the dead man’s side, which are Italian.

Do the police solve this mystery? Suppose we say they do not, and that before they have completed their investigations a second man is found dead in the restaurant under exactly the same circumstances as the first victim. This gives us an opportunity to tie up the plot with a few more complications. Very well. Now, as the police have failed to get to the bottom of the affair, why not have a celebrated private detective undertake to solve the mystery? If this is done, we of course want to know:

1. Did he solve the crime?
2. If so, how?

In reply, we would say:

1. Of course. (Fictional detectives always do!)
2. Well, suppose we say he first found out HOW the men were murdered, but fails to identify the murderer—although he suspects the proprietor of the restaurant whom he believes to be a famous criminal. Therefore, he plans out his course of action as follows: He will tell the proprietor confidentially that he knows who the murderer is, then order a stein of beer and see what will happen. After making the necessary arrangements with the police, therefore, he secures a duplicate of the steins used in the restaurant, conceals it in his overcoat pocket, enters the restaurant, becomes confidential with the waiter, and tells him in a voice loud enough to be heard by the proprietor, whom he sees standing in the kitchen door, that he is investigating the murders and that he has found out who the murderer is; then he orders beer (feeling sure, of course, that if the proprietor is the guilty man he will try to get rid of him—the detective—at once).

Well, assuming that all of this took place:

1. What happens to the detective?
2. What happens in the restaurant after the attempted murder, if there is one?

Suppose we say that:

1. The detective secures the stein which the PROPRIETOR (and not the waiter) brings him, and replaces it with the one in his pocket; then he falls over on the table as if dead or dying and is carried away in an ambulance.
2. The WAITER is arrested by the police and charged with the crimes.

The following questions now occur to us:

1. How did the detective make sure of his man?
2. What is a logical conclusion?

And the following answers:

1. (a) He finds that the stein the proprietor brought him contains carbon monoxide gas; (b) By comparing the proprietor’s finger-prints (which he had secured by smearing transparent wax on a menu card) with prints in the Police Department’s files and finding that he is a famous criminal who is being sought by the police of a dozen cities.
2. The arrest of the man, who confesses, and the exoneration of the waiter.

From this mass of material we now select the inciting motive, which is the discovery of the first of the two murdered men in the restaurant. A further search reveals two crises: the first, when the police declare the two dead men are evidently the victims of the same murderer or murderers, and the second, when the detective feigns death. The crucial situation is found in the arrest of the waiter, and the climax, in the arrest of the proprietor. Therefore, after carefully reviewing our analysis, we draw up a terse working plot, as follows:

THE MUG OF DEATH

(Inciting motive). Man is found dead at a table in a small Italian wineshop. (First incident of plot development) Police declare man has evidently been murdered. (Second incident of plot development) Declare the “Vile chi tradisce il segrets del confidente” is the motto of a Black Hand society. (First moment of suspense) Police investigate but fail to find clue. (Cause of first crisis) Another man is found dead in the restaurant. (First crisis) Police declare that, because of the horrible expression on the man’s face, they believe he died by the same hand and in the same manner as the first victim. (Third incident of plot development) Private detective undertakes to solve the mystery. (Fourth incident of plot development) Discovers how the men were murdered. (Fifth incident of plot development). Decides to trap the proprietor, whom he suspects, by giving him sufficient cause to wish his—the detective’s—death, and an opportunity to try to murder him. (Sixth incident of plot development) Enters restaurant. (Cause of second crisis) Tells waiter in a loud voice he knows who the murderer is, and orders beer, which is brought him by the PROPRIETOR, who, after depositing the stein on the table, quickly leaves. (Second crisis) Detective, after securing the stein, falls over on the table as if dead. (Seventh incident of plot development) Police arrive, declare the detective is dead, and remove his body. (Crucial situation) Waiter is arrested by the police, who still cling to their theory that he is the guilty man, and charged with the crimes. (Cause of climax) Detective returns to restaurant. (Climax) Denounces proprietor and arrests him for the murders. (Denouement and conclusion) Proprietor, believing the detective to be dead, in his fright breaks down, confesses that he was commissioned by a Black Hand society to commit the murders, and exonerates the waiter.

In this plot we have the complicated plot at its best—or worst, as the writer prefers, for even the most ambitious author would have a hard time making it more involved than it is. As an exposition of the technic of complicated plot building, therefore, the novice should find it worthy of study.

We have now covered the whole field of short-story plot development, and nothing remains but for the writer to experiment with plots of his own. Enthusiasm is the chief requisite in plot making, and method in analytic procedure the next. Once the author has a grasp on the methods employed in plot-construction, the development of germ-ideas into technically correct working plots will not be difficult.