Reading for the Plot
When I shifted from writing poetry to writing stories, I thought—a rookie thought—that I’d just be able to do it. It was around 1980 and minimalism was coming into style, and I tried to write spare stories where each sentence throbbed with meaning. I did this for a couple of years and not only were the results awful, the practice was too. Zillions of crossouts. I could write an entire page and end up with a series of black lines and no kept words.
Finally, I stopped the madness. I decided that for the next however long I would just read, do what is now called close reading, and make an effort to catch the moments in books and stories when things happened. Above all, I wanted to learn how a plot worked, and where it lurked on the pages. As a regular reader I was usually so absorbed that I blew right past it. As this new kind of reader I was hunting for specific spots where I could see plot happening.
After a while I became more systematic about this project and choose 5 authors to study whose work I felt an affinity for and who I felt I could learn from. These were Jane Bowles, Edith Wharton, Flannery O’ Connor, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Virginia Woolf. Now I think this is an odd list, as three of these authors are notable stylists, and I was looking for brass tacks. (I augmented with Steven King and Danielle Steele to really see plot at work.) I tried to read everything they had published, which offered a lesson I hadn’t expected—not all their work was of the same quality. Even the greatest were not great sometimes. Fitzgerald published dozens of stories but only a few are collected as his greatest hits. It was wonderful to see this, as it taught me that greatness comes of both practice and serendipity (what doesn’t?) and that what isn’t genius has value, too, for the sensibility and voice of the author. Many of these writers “lesser” works are my favorites.
I did figure things out from doing this reading and also by reading books about writing. My favorite was Flannery’s Mystery and Manners. That book became my crucible. I was determined to understand what she was talking about and to keep rereading until I did. (It took years.) The reading and analyzing project took two years of immersion before I was ready to start writing again. I did figure things out, or began to. I do still recommend this method as the best way to learn how to write. I don’t think it’s enough just to read though. Instead, try this:
ask questions of the text. My questions might be different than your questions, but as an example they might be along the lines of:
what happens in the beginning? how is the story set up? what is the tone? where I am, the reader, in relation to the text? what is the writer offering me to worry and wonder about? what is the protagonist like? how am I enjoined to care about their dilemma? what are they after, and why is it so hard for them to get what they want? is there an aspect of their personality that gets in their way? where are the plot turns and what do they look like? what happens at the end? how is the story resolved?
underline the sentences that answer your questions.
write about what you notice. this is crucial. articulate what you see and how it is working. write a letter to yourself, write a letter to a friend, share the information in language. write about how a story works as if doing so makes all the difference between learning to write or not. do this again and again until you metabolize how stories work and can be free when drafting, then also have a set of tools to work with for revision.
I unearthed a set of plot points I work with that are fluid but present in all stories that don’t aim to defy the universal let me tell you a story shape. As I have read books about writing (I love them) I see those same points mentioned in similar language. They are right there, visible to the naked eye. Not only the plot; there are repeated images, words, symbols, titles, and metaphors to notice and explore in writing. And what about meaning? How is meaning made? It’s a different practice to underline and annotate for pithy quotes and moving moments than it is to underline and annotate for how a story is put together. It’s my idea of a good time. Please let me know if this is a practice of yours as well. I will do a deeper dive into this subject when I go on sabbatical next spring.
On another note, I am going to be doing some writing and engaging in a conversation about the TV show Girls with the brilliant author Lynn Steger Strong here on this stack over the next weeks. We both love the show and are rewatching it as ballast against the influx of terrible news everyday. I also have a few writing posts coming up, such as what I learned about writing from the Beatles, so stayed tuned.
Right now I hear both cars and birds. Can spring be far behind?
Excellent advice, and a great reminder. I did this with 2 or 3 of my favorite books: I wanted to find out why they were my favorite, how the authors did what they did, and essentially find the nuts and bolts of the story like you did. I annotated with little post-its sticking out everywhere. After reading your post, it's encouragement to reread these books after several years of in-depth writing and reading about plot and story, and approach them with specific questions (I love your examples and will use those, plus others!).
Thank you for sharing, Alice. When I made the switch from poetry to stories I did something like this. I was working as a barista and couldn’t afford yet to buy books. I would go to the public library and check out a stack of BEST AMERICAN SHORT STORIES, going back to the forties. I put this stack beside my bed and every night for at least a year I read one story. When I finished that stack I returned to the library for more. I didn’t know it but I was after similar questions and answers as yours in a less organized manner. The osmosis method. Your questions are perfect.