Plot, plot everywhere . . .

Literary agent Kristin Nelson has an interesting post up today about the difference between “dramatic plot elements” and conflict. She writes:

I just want to clarify here that these two things are not the same.

Conflict is what motivates and drives your character (and can be internal and well as external).

Dramatic plot elements are simply events that occur in the story.

Not the same thing. So what I’m seeing is that writers are confusing the two and making the assumption that if they have a lot of big events in their novels, that’s enough “conflict”  to carry the story.

I’m going to ask, in her comments, if she’ll follow this up by elaborating on conflict . . . when she critiqued pitches on TWLAuthorTalks last week, she mentioned lack of conflict as a major strike against a couple of pitches. It would be interesting to get more insight from her into how successful writers build conflict into their novels.

More on plots

Not to be confused with moron plots. We’ll leave that topic for another day.

This past weekend, I picked up a copy of Monkey Love, Brenda Scott Royce, Feb. 2006, Penguin, given the face-up treatment royale on the “new releases” table at my local bookstore chain.

So I’m reading it (because why not have four or five books going at once?) and as I’ve been thinking about plotting, I notice that in the first chapter (19 pages) no less than four major plotlines are introduced: a girlfriend’s unplanned pregnancy; another girlfriend’s professional shennanigans; the protagonist’s preparation for an upcoming stand-up comedy gig; and the protagonist’s first encounter with he-who-will-emerge-as-the-love-interest.

Advantages:

1. Fast pacing? You betcha. You can’t have that much going on in under 20 pages without having . . . a lot going on.

2. Major interest grabation. Take your pick, there’s so much happening here, you’re bound to want to know how at least some of it works out.

3. Comedic effect. A caught-in-the-headlights straight man is a comedy staple. Plot breaking out right and left is a useful device for propelling a hapless protagonist toward that lite, happy ending nirvana we’re all rooting for-o.*

Disadvantages:

1. There’s a thin line between “madcap” and frenetic.

2. Pacing isn’t pacing unless it’s modulated from time to time. When the balance tips too far toward “hard plot” and too far away from the protagonists interior life, things start to feel downright speedy after awhile.

So what’s the answer. Dunno. But if the pendulum has swung toward “plot ’til you’re punch-drunk” (and I’m by no means sure it has btw — I have exactly one data point upon which to base this) I hereby Predict it will Swing Back.

*The “o” is so that I won’t be using a preposition to end that sentence with-o