Robert's Rules of Writing #50: Don't Push Your Luck
[Rule quoted from Robert's Rules of Writing: 101 Unconventional Lessons Every Writer Needs to Know by Robert Masello (Writer's Digest Books, 2005). See my original post for the rules of this discussion.]
Wow. We've made it virtually halfway through the book. I want to take this moment to thank those of you who have chosen to accompany me on my journey so far, and I hope you'll stick around for the second half. When I started these mini-essays commenting on Masello's rules, a lot of people seemed interested. I hope people have continued to enjoy these posts, and if you have constructive suggestions, by all means please let me know in the comments.
Masello's rule #50 is one I've run across before in other writing guides. Boiled down to one sentence, it is as follows:
Coincidence can start a story or make things worse for your protagonist, but it should never be used to make things better.
To be honest, there isn't much I could say to improve on Masello's own essay about this rule, and rather than quote him extensively I urge everyone to go out and buy the book (if you haven't done so already). Basically, readers will accept a coincidence to kick off the story, especially if the characters make it clear as well how bizarre they find it. They'll also accept anything that works against your character. But using coincidence to make things better smacks of cheating. Readers prefer it when a protagonist solves his or her problems through skill or ingenuity rather than through coincidence.
I briefly considered citing examples of coincidence from my own fiction, but at the moment I'm having trouble thinking of any. (Although I'm sure that they exist.) So instead, I'll end this post by opening it up to comments on the question of coincidence. Have you ever read a story where coincidence threw you right out of the fictional world? Or have you ever read a story where a piece of coincidence worked extremely well for you? Feel free to share.
Copyright © Michael Burstein
Wow. We've made it virtually halfway through the book. I want to take this moment to thank those of you who have chosen to accompany me on my journey so far, and I hope you'll stick around for the second half. When I started these mini-essays commenting on Masello's rules, a lot of people seemed interested. I hope people have continued to enjoy these posts, and if you have constructive suggestions, by all means please let me know in the comments.
Masello's rule #50 is one I've run across before in other writing guides. Boiled down to one sentence, it is as follows:
Coincidence can start a story or make things worse for your protagonist, but it should never be used to make things better.
To be honest, there isn't much I could say to improve on Masello's own essay about this rule, and rather than quote him extensively I urge everyone to go out and buy the book (if you haven't done so already). Basically, readers will accept a coincidence to kick off the story, especially if the characters make it clear as well how bizarre they find it. They'll also accept anything that works against your character. But using coincidence to make things better smacks of cheating. Readers prefer it when a protagonist solves his or her problems through skill or ingenuity rather than through coincidence.
I briefly considered citing examples of coincidence from my own fiction, but at the moment I'm having trouble thinking of any. (Although I'm sure that they exist.) So instead, I'll end this post by opening it up to comments on the question of coincidence. Have you ever read a story where coincidence threw you right out of the fictional world? Or have you ever read a story where a piece of coincidence worked extremely well for you? Feel free to share.
Copyright © Michael Burstein
Peter David tells a story of the time he was writing the Hulk comic book. He had forgotten to get Rick Jones, the sidekick, off an exploding Skrull spaceship. So he decided to make the problem work for him. In the next panel, Rick falls gently to Earth using a parachute. He explains that ever since he started adventuring with the Hulk, he always wore a parachute just in case he would have to escape from an exploding Skrull spaceship. When someone points out to him how ridiculous that sounds, he simply replies, "Why? I had to, didn't I?" For which, of course, there is no reply.
An example, in "Ender's Game" Bean finds a coil of some flexible, spring like wire, which becomes important in the plot. It helps kick Ender out of the depression he keeps tending to slide into. It's presented as a coincidence. I have no problem with it being a coincidence. By itself, the wire just is, but it's the talented Ender that sees the wire as something useful, rather than a distraction to be discarded or ignored. In "Ender's Shadow" we find out Bean went through a complete inventory of the station and asked the authorities for it, to help even the odds for Ender (and to prevent Ender from having a complete nervous breakdown). I liked it better as a coincidence.
There's even a part where they reveal that Ender's parents are actually geniuses, but they pretend not to be for no good reason, which is why they seemed like average people in the original. That whole book (Shadow, that is) just made me angry.
I hope.
I feel as though I came up with my rule in reaction to something specific I read, though. This is going to drive me crazy all day -- thanks, Michael! :>
That said, one of my favorite little-known movies ever relied, as its primary plot device, on a freak string of incredibly good luck. _Let It Ride_, a Richard Dreyfus picture about a small time horseplayer who has one really incredibly good day at the track, works partly because the suspense about whether it will hold up through the last race gets to be incredible, and partly because the actual interest in the film isn't really plot based, it's about how the people involved *react* to the luck, and what decisions they make about how to handle it as it progresses.
If you really need something unlikely to happen, at least foreshadow it a little bit. If the gritty detective needs access to the subway system, then he shouldn't say 'Hey, my uncle worked as a conductor for 20 years!' all of a sudden. The uncle should have introduced on page 2 for some other reason.
likewise, if you want the hero's car to break down at a crucial juncture, establish early and often that he drives a piece of junk, and it breaks down all the time.
It's really the only way to do it.
Blech.
Zhaneel
And, of course, if you do them right I'll be so absorbed in the plot that I won't notice that they're coincidences (not to mention that, as others have pointed out, if you do it right you can prepare them enough that they'll barely be coincidences).
Count my vote against the "coincidence is OK as long as it's bad luck" argument, too, please!