20 Master Plots Read online

  In "An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge," Peyton Farquhar stands on a railroad bridge in northern Alabama looking down at the swift waters below. His hands are tied behind his back, and there's a noose around his neck. He's about to be hung by Union soldiers. This situation, compared to the five-year ordeal of Billy Hayes, takes place in a few minutes. Either Farquhar will be hung or he'll escape through some miracle. The conflict is clear and the tension immediate.

  In Melville's Typee, Toby and Tom jump ship at one of the Marquesas Islands, only to end up the "guests" of a tribe of cannibals, who are fascinated with the Englishmen. The cannibals defer having their guests for dinner, but they will not let them leave, either.

  In O. Henry's "The Ransom of Red Chief," Sam and Bill kidnap the only child of a wealthy man and take him to a cave. The situation seems straightforward: If the father wants his boy back, he must pay a ransom.

  ESCAPE PLOT-PHASE TWO

  The second phase of the escape plot deals with imprisonment and plans for escape. There may be an attempted escape during the first dramatic phase, but it always fails. Either the escape is foiled or, if it succeeds, the protagonist is recaptured and returned to prison.

  The plot question is a simple one: Will the protagonist escape? The third dramatic phase contains the answer, but in most cases the reader will be able to guess correctly well in advance what the outcome will be. This is a result of the simple moral structure. If the forces are clearly drawn between good and evil, we don't expect evil to prevail. It's dissatisfying for the reader to be rooting for the protagonist only to see him fail at the end. Readers prefer an upbeat ending, a triumph rather than a defeat. We expect Billy Hayes to escape; we expect Farquhar will somehow escape hanging; we expect Toby and Tom to escape the cookpot; and we expect that Johnny's father will pay the ransom for the return of his son (although with O. Henry, we also expect the unexpected; we would be disappointed if the end didn't have some twist to it).

  In "An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge," the sergeant in charge of the execution steps off the board that is keeping Farquhar up. Farquhar falls, the noose tight around his neck. On his way down, the author relates his crime: As a staunch supporter of the South he had tried to burn down the Owl Creek Bridge before the Union troops arrived. But he was captured and sentenced to death. Farquhar dreams of throwing off the noose, diving into the water and returning to his wife and family, who await him at home.

  Toby and Tom attempt their own escapes, but the Typee cannibals obviously have other plans for them. Tom comes down with a disease that swells his leg; Toby convinces the Typees to let him get help for his friend, but on his way out hostile warriors from another tribe attack him, forcing him back to the Typees.

  "The Ransom of Red Chief," on the other hand, begins working in a strange direction by the second phase. After Sam and Bill kidnap Johnny, Sam leaves to return a horse and buggy while Bill watches the boy. When Sam comes back, however, he finds Bill and Johnny have been playing a game of trappers and Indians. Johnny, who announces himself as "Red Chief," now has his poor battered captor tied up! Red Chief then declares that in the morning he will scalp Bill and burn Sam at the stake.

  The ironic twist is already evident. Johnny is the captor and Bill and Sam are the captives. He terrorizes the two men by keeping them from sleeping and threatening them with their morning executions. He attacks them with a hot potato and then with a rock. The two men have no chance against him.

  ESCAPE PLOT—PHASE THREE

  The third phase consists of the escape itself. Usually the well-laid plans of the second dramatic phase fall apart. (If they didn't, the action would be too predictable.) Wild cards come into play. Enter the unexpected. All hell breaks loose. To this point the situation has been tightly controlled by the antagonist, but suddenly the situation becomes fluid, out of control either by gratuitous circumstance or by design of the hero. The hero, who has been at a distinct disadvantage, finally gets the upper hand, and if there's a moral score to settle, the time has come for settling it.

  The third dramatic phase is usually the most active of phases. Since the second phase consists of escape plans, the third phase is the realization of the escape itself, even though most often it's under circumstances different from those planned in the second phase.

  Peyton Farquhar drops from the bridge, and then, "... all at once, with terrible suddenness, the light about him shot upward with the noise of a loud splash; a frightful roaring was in his ears,

  and all was cold and dark____He knew that the rope had broken

  and he had fallen into the stream." He struggles to escape to free his hands as he rises to the surface. But the Union soldiers open fire on him, forcing him back under the water.

  The swift current takes Farquhar downstream and out of range. Exhausted, he starts the walk home with only the thought of his wife on his mind. He reaches his house, barely able to stand, and there is his wife, waiting for him. He reaches out to embrace her.

  Then comes the final line of the story: "Peyton Farquhar was dead; his body, with a broken neck, swung gently from side to side beneath the timbers of the Owl Creek Bridge."

  The escape, it turns out, was no escape at all. Or perhaps it was, since in Farquhar's mind he had escaped. Bierce can get away with this kind of ending because the short story was written for the effect of the last line. We don't get to know Peyton Farquhar, so we don't care that much about him. His life, or death, is immaterial to the plot, which is successful only because of its radical turn at the end.

  O. Henry uses a similar strategy in "The Ransom of Red Chief." We can see where the story is going as we see Red Chief take over his captors. The difference between the stories is that "The Ransom of Red Chief' is played for comic rather than dramatic effect. The journey of Peyton Farquhar is prosaic. We go along for the ride to see where it's going. In the case of O. Henry's story, we go along for the ride because we enjoy the ride. The notion of a ten-year-old boy turning the table on two kidnappers and terrorizing them as they meant to do to him is amusing.

  To add insult to injury, Johnny has such a good time torturing his captors that he doesn't want to go home.

  Sam finally mails the ransom note. The father's reply: He will take back his son—provided the kidnappers pay him $250!

  Meanwhile, the kidnappers have been trying in vain to free themselves of Johnny. Finally, out of exasperation, they pay the

  ransom of $250 just to get rid of the kid. The plot reversal works as comedy.

  Your responsibility as writer is to keep the reader off-balance by constantly shifting the terms of the escape. Nothing goes as planned; something always goes wrong. And that's the joy of it.

  CHECKLIST

  As you write, keep these points in mind:

  1. Escape is always literal. Your hero should be confined against his will (often unjustly) and wants to escape.

  2. The moral argument of your plot should be black and white.

  3. Your hero should be the victim (as opposed to the rescue plot, in which the hero saves the victim).

  4. Your first dramatic phase deals with the hero's imprisonment and any initial attempts at escape, which fail.

  5. Your second dramatic phase deals with the hero's plans for escape. These plans are almost always thwarted.

  6. Your third dramatic phase deals with the actual escape.

  7. The antagonist has control of the hero during the first two dramatic phases; the hero gains control in the last dramatic phase.

  Francis Bacon called revenge a wild justice. In literature the dominant motive for this plot is loud and clear: retaliation by the protagonist against the antagonist for real or imagined injury. It's a visceral plot, which means it reaches into us at a deep emotional level. We bristle against injustice and we want to see it corrected. And almost always, the retaliation is outside the limits of the law. This is the wild justice that Bacon spoke about. There are times when the law cannot properly dispense justice, so we take the matter into our
own hands. We have a Biblical precedent that we've heard quoted so many times that we can recite it in our sleep: "An eye for an eye, tooth for tooth; hand for hand, foot for foot" (Exodus 21:24). In the throes of righteousness it's easy to overlook Jesus' response: "If any one strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also; and if any one would sue you and take your coat, let him have your cloak as well; and if any one forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles." Fine sentiments, but obviously not human nature. If you hit me, I will hit you back. (There have been some fine stories about people who cling to their faith when tempted by revenge, but they're better people than most of us are.)

  Revenge is vigilante justice, which has as much power today as it had a thousand years ago.

  The theme of revenge was a favorite among the Greeks, but it

  reached its highest expression in seventeenth-century Elizabethan and Jacobean tragedy.

  Thomas Kyd's The Spanish Tragedy, written about 1590, is about Hieronimo, who wavers on the verge of madness after his son is murdered. Between his spells of madness, he discovers who has killed his son and why, and he plots revenge. Sound familiar?

  Not yet? Then two more clues. The ghost of the murdered son calls for his father to carry out the revenge. Hieronimo then stages a play in which the murderers are killed. Figure it out yet?

  Antonio's Revenge, you say? In this play by John Marston, Antonio's murdered father appears as a ghost and begs his son to avenge his murder, which he does during a court ball.

  Or maybe you thought of George Chapman's The Revenge of Bussy d'Amboise, when Bussy's ghost begs his brother to avenge his murder? Or was it Henry Chettle's Tragedy of Hoffman? Or Cyril Tourneur's The Revengers Tragedie?

  Most likely it was Shakespeare's Hamlet, which is probably the most famous revenge story ever told. (Remember what I said earlier about Shakespeare's originality?) Sure, others told the same story, but none told it so well. The talking ghost crying out for revenge, the feigned madness, the play-within-the-play and the carnage at the end were all stock devices used in the revenge tragedy.

  Most of our contemporary revenge stories don't have the range of character and feeling that Shakespeare brought to Hamlet. Still, the pattern of the revenge plot hasn't changed in the last three thousand years. At the heart of the story is the protagonist, who is generally a good person forced to take vengeance into her own hands when the law won't give satisfaction. Then there's the antagonist, the person who has committed the crime, who for some quirk in the natural progress of events has escaped punishment for his crime. Last, there's the victim, the person whom the protagonist must avenge. As a character, the victim obviously is expendable; his purpose is to arouse our sympathies, for him and for the protagonist (who has been denied love, companionship or the like). Sometimes the victim is the protagonist himself. The more heinous the crime (rape, murder, incest), the more the protagonist is justified in seeking vengeance. We don't expect the character to go on a campaign of revenge for someone having shoplifted a quart of beer out of her store or for claiming an undeserved deduction on his income tax form.

  The first rule of revenge is that the punishment must equal the crime—thus the concept of "getting even." The Bible's warrant doesn't allow us to exceed that which has been received. "An eye

  for an eye; a tooth for a tooth. . . ." And with our primitive sense

  of justice, we are content to exact that same punishment. No more, and no less.

  The basic dramatic structure of the plot has changed very little over time. Its three dramatic phases remain consistent from early Greek tragedy to modern Hollywood melodrama.

  THE FIRST DRAMATIC PHASE-THE CRIME

  The first dramatic phase consists primarily of the crime. The hero and his loved ones are established when suddenly an awful crime intrudes, terminating the hero's happiness. The hero is unable to defend against the crime. Either he's not present or he's restrained (and forced to watch, which adds to the horror).

  In some stories, such as the older ones I've cited, a murder has been committed before the story begins. Hamlet's father is already murdered. Generally it's good advice for any writer to start a scene late and get out early; that is, don't drag your reader through every detail leading up to the action, and don't "hang around" after it. Confine your writing to the core of the scene. But I don't recommend cutting the scenes so tightly that the audience doesn't witness the crime, because it may be an important element for the reader to experience emotionally. If someone commits a wrongdoing against me or my family, and I want others to share in my outrage, the most effective way for me to gain your empathy is to make you witness the crime. These scenes are not only powerful because of their content, but because they create a strong bond between the audience and the victim. We feel for the victim. We are as outraged as she is, and we want justice as badly as she does. If the crime occurs before your readers enter the story, they are less inclined to feel empathetic. Sympathetic, maybe, but not empathetic. One of your primary goals in this plot is to build a strong emotional bridge between your readers and your main character.

  The hero may rely on justice from other sources, such as the police, but that almost never gives satisfaction. He then realizes that if there is any justice to be had, he must dispense it himself.

  THE SECOND DRAMATIC PHASE-REVENGE

  The second dramatic phase starts as the hero makes his plans for revenge. He prepares for action. If the vengeance involves a single antagonist, the second phase may deal with pursuit (finding) as well as preparation for revenge. In the case of serial revenge, in which several people must pay for the crime, the hero may start dispensing justice in this phase. There is often a third party (to complete the triangle), who tries to stop the hero from achieving his intention. In Death Wish it's the police officer investigating the case. In Sudden Impact it's Harry Calahan investigating the case. In both cases, the police are sympathetic to the hero's cause and end up helping in some way. In The Outlaw Josey Wales, the third arm of the triangle is an old Indian, who adds both a comic touch and historical proportion, since he too has been a victim.

  THE THIRD DRAMATIC PHASE-CONFRONTATION

  The third dramatic phase deals with the confrontation. In the case of serial revenge, the final criminal to get his due is the most important: Either he's the ringleader, or the most psychopathic, or whatever. This is the moment of triumph for the protagonist. Her motivation has been single-minded all along. She either succeeds or fails. In the case of Ulu, the powerful revenge film from New Zealand, the hero is a Maori man who finds his entire village massacred by the British army. He swears "ulu"—traditional revenge—and wages his own war against the British. One man against an army. His serial revenge is successful until the third phase, when he's captured. He's executed, but his death is heroic. In popular literature, however, the protagonist is almost always successful, and once the vengeance is accomplished, she can return to "normal" life.

  Revenge is an emotionally powerful motivation; it tends to almost possess the hero. The drama has hard edges and can make some readers uncomfortable with the violence that it entails. Although violence isn't a prerequisite of this plot, classical revenge usually involves violence, and an informal survey of stories in this category will show violence is a common motif.

  But revenge can take nonviolent forms as well. What happens, for instance, when you want to write a comedy in this form? As with plots that incorporate violence, the punishment in a comedy must fit the crime. There are lesser crimes, crimes that don't require violence to settle the score; for example, it would be appropriate for a con man to be conned in return, such as in the "sting" story. Not all sting stories are revenge plots, but many are. The Pulitzer-Prize winning dramatist David Mamet is famous for his stories about stings and con artists. However, the best example of the sting as a revenge plot is the 1973 film by the same name starring Paul Newman and Robert Redford. Sting stories get their energy and appeal from elaborate cons that take a long time to set
up (and usually don't go as planned). These intricate inventions developed in the second dramatic phase delight us; they are complicated, unwieldy and seemingly impossible.

  Unfortunately, well-crafted revenge stories are the exception rather than the rule. Edgar Allan Poe's short story "The Cask of Amontillado" is a wonderful exception. The story has only two characters, Montressor and Fortunato. Because it's a short story, Poe had the flexibility to bend the basic formula.

  Fortunato commits the crime. Montressor is the victim. The crime? An insult. Montressor tells the story, and we never find out what the insult was. He tells us, "The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult I vowed revenge." We suspect the man has a screw loose.

  Montressor plans his revenge. It must be perfect, one in which his victim will know exactly what is happening to him. During a carnival, a time of "supreme madness," Montressor lures Fortunato into his wine cellar to taste some amontillado. He chains Fortunato to a wall and then entombs him behind a wall of stone, where he will wait for his death in darkness, repenting for his crime.

  Fortunato, of course, is as much in the dark as we are. This revenge is for an imaginary insult or an insult so blown out of proportion that the punishment also is blown out of proportion.

  One reason the tale works so well is that it's told in the first person. Montressor assumes we will condone his actions and share in the grotesque perfection of revenge. Although he sounds sane for most of the story, he reveals his true self at the end, when Fortunato starts to scream from behind the wall that Montressor is building. He unsheathes his sword, thrusts it about in the air and starts to scream himself, drowning out the screams of his victim.

  It's a sketch of madness, little more. Diabolical, chilling and clever. But we can't sympathize with Montressor; we quickly despise him. It would have been next to impossible to pull off this story as a novel. Poe's four pages is about as far as he could go.