Complex, or Over-Complicated?
By Cathy Yardley | October 2, 2015 |
Have you ever worried that your story may be too simple?
Have you found yourself adding plot twists, shocking turnarounds, colorful secondary characters, and a number of tragedies, in the hopes of maintaining your reader’s attention?
I edit a lot of stories with “fear of simplicity” syndrome. In an effort to spice up their stories, authors wind up throwing in everything they can think of to amp up the story’s volume — often to the detriment of the story itself.
If you’re not sure if your story is complex, or simply over-complicated, here are five usual suspects to test for.
1. Does your story goal remain consistent?
At the first plot point, your character will embark on his story goal. That’s usually what the back cover blurb or book description in a story is about. It can often be put in the form of a question.
Will the hero save the heroine (or vice versa)?
Will the main character stop the alien invasion?
Will the lovers finally get it together?
If the story goal changes halfway through the book — say, it seemed like “will the lovers finally get together” suddenly turns into “will they stop the alien invasion, while also saving each other from certain death by an unrelated villain?” somewhere in the middle — then you are needlessly complicating.
And adding extra goals doesn’t make the story complex, it only makes it more complicated, unless they’re simply sub-goals for a larger yet still clearly defined larger goal.
If you know what your protagonist wants — and why he wants it — from the beginning, then you can add your twists and spice, always keeping that goal in mind.
2. Are your plot twists organic?
A lot of over-complication comes from the idea: “when in doubt, throw in a surprise.”
For example:
The bad guy turns out to be the hero’s best friend.
Who also turns out to be his brother, separated at birth.
Who used to be his sister, up to about seven years ago.
Who is actually not even the real bad guy, but a pawn.
Of the protagonist. (Somehow.)
You get the picture. After a certain point, you’re tossing in twists simply for the sake of shock value. Once a reader becomes inured to the shock, he starts looking for the twist rather than being immersed in the story.
[pullquote]Once a reader become inured to the shock, he starts looking for the twist rather than being immersed in the story.[/pullquote]
Beyond two or three, the plausibility factor is strained to the point of incredulity. Rather than a twisty thriller, your story can become a parody.
(A prime example of this: the films of M. Night Shyamalan. After his triumph with The Sixth Sense, he constructed entire plot lines around twists… to the dissatisfaction of his viewers, and ultimately the damage of his career.)
I’m all for using a well-developed plot twist. I think that if you can create a sense of suspense and surprise, especially for jaded genre readers, you’ll create something stunning. But save it for one or two really beautiful, unexpected jolts, to maintain impact.
3. Is your conflict focused?
If you’ve got a focused story goal, then your protagonist has an external goal (i.e., a kid is trying to win a school election) and an internal goal (said kid is trying to feel a sense of belonging/popularity.) The antagonistic force would be things like his opponents for student body president, his inherent feeling of isolation as a new kid, maybe a nemesis teacher, all contributing to the obstacles between him and his goal.
Over-complication happens when things are then added to “create conflict” that instead distract from the story goal. While I often press authors to increase the conflict in their stories, I must point out that “add conflict” doesn’t mean “add different kinds of conflict all at once.”
For example, if you have a boxer fighting for a prize against a competitor who has been mocking him throughout the novel, you don’t then introduce the fact that his parents are getting divorced, he’s actually adopted, the local neighborhood association is planning on blacklisting his wife, and he may be on a watch list for the FBI for a nearby crime. (At least, you don’t unless they’re all somehow related to his goal — and if so, good luck with that!)
[pullquote]Instead of piling on lots of little conflict from all sides, instead focus on escalating your conflict and raising the stakes.[/pullquote]
Instead of piling on lots of little conflict from all sides, instead focus on escalating your conflict and raising the stakes. It’s better to have your protagonist battle one antagonist with surprising cunning as well as unexpected strength, with an even larger consequence for failure, than have that same protagonist get hit with several random and unrelated “bad things” in sequential order.
4. Are your characters too quirky?
In an effort to make a character memorable, some authors throw in a bunch of quirks. A sleuth with OCD and Tourette’s syndrome! A left handed albino pipe welder who fights monsters! A crime fighting waiter who dabbles in French poetry and paints masterpieces with his feet even though he’s colorblind!
Again, similar to the twists-upon-twists syndrome, too much of a good thing is not a good thing, pushing your novel from “unusual” to “farce” in no time flat. Even in humor, too many quirks can draw attention to themselves, slowly devaluing the comedic impact, just as too many twists defuse the thrill and suspense.
To make quirks effective, use them sparingly, and make sure they serve a purpose.
5. Do you have too many characters?
Unless you’re writing an epic high fantasy or very detailed historical fiction, odds are good you really don’t need a cast of thousands to carry off your story.
Don’t introduce five secondary characters when one will do.
Don’t add a character simply to spout off a relevant piece of information in a new and charming way.
And please, don’t add characters just to showcase more quirks! These are the most dangerous secondaries, because once they’re on stage, they are reluctant to leave, upstaging your protagonist and consequently disengaging your reader from your primary character with every line of dialogue. This is definitely a case of “kill your darlings” — or at least, keep them reined in.
Choose with care.
I’m not saying that all stories need to be pared down to a Zen-like minimalism.
I am saying that you want everything in your story to be a deliberate choice, and preferably one that serves to heighten and amplify a cohesive and focused story goal, with a consistent and escalating related conflict. Don’t try to “fix” or enliven a shaky story with gimmicks and twists.
If the meal itself isn’t solid, all the spice in the world isn’t going to make it better. Focus on your fundamentals, and the reader will thank you for it.
Do you ever worry about the complexity and excitement of your stories? What is your experience in solving the problem?
Cathy Yardley has published over 33 novels, novellas, and serialized fiction, both traditionally and independently. In 2011, she started RockYourWriting.com, with the mission of helping novelists make a living. She has helped hundreds of authors as a developmental editor, writing coach, and through her “plot sessions” – one-on-one calls that get authors from concept to plot points in one hour. She’s also written the Rock Your Writing series of reference books, taking authors through the writing cycle, from concept to completion. Sign up for her newsletter, and you can receive free downloads to help you plot and revise your novel.
Terrific article! You nailed the problem with so many books and movies these days. Excellent practical advice here.
What about if you are writing non fiction
Ken, if you are writing non-fiction, the need for clarity and focus is even more pronounced. The less focused you are, the less impact you have.
I’m hoping that less stories make it past their editors with the over-complication flaw. Fingers crossed, right? Thanks for commenting!
Thanks so much for this article. It right on point.
I’m glad you found it helpful. Thanks for commenting!
“Do I ever worry about the complexity and excitement of my story?”—All the time!
I was so proud of my first manuscript. It took me a year, but it was beautiful—until my first reader informed me that NOTHING happened. Opps!
I immediately set out to incorporate all the points you’ve said to avoid. Ugh! Overtime, and draft after draft I’ve whittled them out of the story. I hope.
What I’ve learned in the process—the key to avoiding the problems you’ve identified—is that before any story is started it’s essential to nail down “the story goal”. Once the character’s internal conflict is clear—that origin of misbelief, as Lisa Cron says—its much easier and obvious to see what external events or people are essential to your character’s journey.
Great post, Cathy. It’s one I’ll be referencing for a long time.
My last post here on WU was about plotting, specifically how each plot point ties to a character… that character is the foundation of all story. Nailing down the character’s GMC (Goal, Motivation, Conflict), being clear and consistent with it, is what helps prevent both meandering and over-complication.Thanks for commenting!
Do you ever worry about the complexity and excitement of your stories? What is your experience in solving the problem? Absolutely. For a while I’ve been striving to find the zen-like balance between ‘too much conflict that has little to do with the overall story’ and ‘too little conflict that makes my characters able to solve problems by page 14.’ It’s definitely not an easy task. The other issue I face (and I don’t know if this is similar for other writers) is STRETCHING. For example: I feel like I have the right level of conflict for the character, but I don’t know how to keep that conflict-momentum running and moving. So I have to make that conflict increase and last across multiple chapters (stretching) and the next thing I know I’m right back to one of the previous standards I set before: either cram in too much unrelated stuff, or have my novel be 30 pages long. Great post Cathy! Thanks for the advice.
You’re absolutely right — it isn’t easy. But it’s worth it, as I see you recognize! :) Stretching is something I see a lot when I edit. It’s also something I mark a lot. I teach that you want your conflict, either external or internal, to escalate in every single scene. That isn’t easy, either. But it’s a matter of looking at it from a big picture standpoint, story-macro to scene-micro. For plotters, you can do this architecture before you start writing… for pantsers, it’s usually something you glean after an exploratory draft, and institute in revisions. Thanks for commenting!
Great post! Thanks for all the spot-on advice.
I’m so glad you found it helpful, Meghan!
Cathy-
I’m so glad you said this. Messy novels lack focus. Bringing it all back to the central conflict is exactly right.
In reading submissions to my agency I find, like you I’m sensing, that many novels are actually not complex enough in the sense that not enough is happening. They feel padded and drawn out. Adding more story business doesn’t mean pasting in new elements but growing greater conflict out of what’s already there. You’ve nailed that.
What I might add to your solid advice is that enriching novels can be about more than adding plot events. Greater conflict can also be thematic, emotional, social and so on. As you say the goal is to amplify conflict not bloat it. More plot is fine but to make a richer meal you have to do more than just pile on extra portions of meat.
Good post, Cathy.
I agree: thematic, emotional, and social conflict add depth and richness to a story, taking it from good to great. That said, I believe that those elements must be layered onto a story framework that emphasizes goal focus and escalating conflict. Too many times, I’ve seen a story click along and then suddenly derail, because the author shifts from “personal protagonist story” to “universal statement/observation” or “weight exposition detailing emotional turmoil.” I know this isn’t what you mean, but it is something I warn about when I edit.
Ideally, the story itself, by dint of the story goal, the world building, the characters, should showcase the theme, the social commentary, and absolutely the emotions. My favorite example of this is Sabaa Tahir’s AN EMBER IN THE ASHES. Beyond being a brutal, stunning thrill ride of a story, it encompasses themes of family loyalty (both through the loving example of Laia’s dedication to her brother and the dysfunctional, evil example of Elias’s twisted relationship with his mother) and social inequality (the Martials versus the Scholars, in a Middle East meets Ancient Rome styled social landscape.) These are never singled out, but always incorporated in addition to the plot itself, into the characters’ journeys.
Granted, not every story needs to be (or SHOULD be) the break-neck thrill ride that EMBER is. But I firmly believe that every scene should stay focused on the goal and then incorporate the depth. It’s very, very hard, but it produces fantastic results. That’s the reason why EMBER hit the Times list its first week out.
Good stuff as usual, Coach, and a useful checklist. And I certainly appreciate your patient guidance through my own “kitchen sink syndrome.” I’m glad you bring up epic fantasy, and agree that Ember is a wonderful example of the kind of complexity over complication that you’re illuminating here today.
And yet… It all still leaves me curious about some of my favorite epic fantasies. I’ve been pondering examples of some very complex stories on my favorites shelf all morning. And I’ve sort of found some sort of resolution for the question of a unified story goal for the protagonist (for example, with Rothfuss’s Kingkiller Chronicles, Kvothe seeks the Chandrian because they killed his parents; with Hobb’s Farseer series, the bastard Fitz seeks his identity/how he fits in to his royal family and how he copes with his magical abilities – to name two).
But none of it explains what has become perhaps the most popular epic fantasy series of our time (largely due to HBO): GRRM’s Song of Ice and Fire. Would the unifying story goal be somehow tied to the (I presume) eventual standoff between the Targaryen dragons and the army of White Walkers? Is it that each major character (who *is* the protagonist, anyway?) has their own unifying story goal? Is it just an anomaly? I mean, talk about complex! And yet, millions are riveted!
I’m not trying to be contrary here. I really am curious (as you know, I’ve been trying to figure out what I love about big-ass epic stories for a long time). And perhaps it’s something too big to address here in the comments. Maybe a future post? And I’d love it if Don had time to weigh in, as well. Thanks, Cathy!
Vaughn! Always great to hear from you, and I am glad that you’re chiming in. It is an interesting thing, to see these very successful (and often with very good reason!) stories that are sprawling epics, who don’t follow this particular philosophy.
Personally, I think that these stories succeed *despite* these elements, rather than because of them. Let’s take Rothfuss, since you know I am a huge fan of the Kingkiller Chronicles. He’s got me hooked — I’ve got what Stephen King calls “the gotta.” I have got to find out what happened with Kvothe!
But while I love the world, and the characters, I found myself getting impatient. Book 2 drives me nuts in a lot of instances. (Felurian, anyone?) I endure because I am addicted, but at the same time, I find myself worried about the third book.
And not to be a heretic, but I enjoy the TV series much more than the books when it comes to the Song of Ice and Fire. I know I’m not the only reader who finally got fed up with his meandering.
It’s difficult to strike a balance, especially since all authors fall so deeply in love with their worlds. But deliberate choices mean what you cut out, just as much as what you put in.
I’d like to hear Don’s take on this, as well!
Hey Cathy, thanks for sharing your take. And yes, Wise Man’s Fear definitely meandered. I swear, I started the Felurian section fairly early on during a trans-Atlantic flight, and Kvothe still hadn’t emerged when we touched down at Heathrow! Oi! I’m frustrated by the teasing with Denna, too (no pun intended). But I can still see Kvothe’s over-arcing goal pretty clearly.
I think even the G of T show must be an anomaly. Such a broad array of goals, and most of them not so redeeming. Even cute little Arya Stark’s is to see the a list of vengeance murders. But I can’t stop watching (and in spite of George’s meandering, can’t not read them, either).
Not that I aspire to meander. But it still intrigues me.
Good post. I’ve become a huge fan of starting with a one sentence summary and using it to keep me on track. A single sentence idenifies my protagonist, his (ironic) flaw, the goal, and the stakes. Any diversion from that one sentence is immediately axed. Use the diversion for the next book in the series.
That’s very Snowflake method — great idea. I like your discipline!
Excellent post, solid advice and I believe that Donald Maass makes an excellent point here when he writes “enriching novels can be about more than adding plot events. Greater conflict can also be thematic, emotional, social and so on. ” In a sense, that adds an extra dimension to the novel, and that is what really makes the difference between a “commercial” novel and a really great, literary one.
When a “conflict” in a novel takes on an added “thematic, emotional, social” meaning that speaks to the reader about pressing issues of our time, you are dealing with the likes of Tolstoy or Emile Zola…
The bulk of my clients, and my own personal writing, is solidly “commercial.” That may be a matter of terminology — I’m not sure if you mean “literary” as in quality of prose versus the genre categorization of “literary fiction” — but I will say that I hate it when “commercial” is used interchangeably with “poor quality” or “less valid.” I work with clients who are trying to make a living with their fiction, and who are craftspeople rather than artists. The trick is taking a story that first and foremost entertains, then layering in the depth, taking it to the next level. I know that Don does that with his commercial clients, to great effect, as well.
Sorry. It’s a hot button for me. My clients do outstanding work, and I hate the thought of them being slighted for writing “commercial.”
Cathy–
At Writer Unboxed–and everywhere else–my attention goes up or down, depending on the quality of the writing. That’s why I always pay close attention to whatever you have to say.
I wonder whether the kind of book affects the elements you discuss–plot twists, oddities/quirks added to try gin up more curiosity or interest (“a crime-fighting waiter who dabbles in French poetry and paints masterpieces with his feet…”–very witty). Your piece seems mostly to address certain kinds of genre fiction, and writers who over-react from a fear their novels lack complexity in the plot. What I fear is simple-mindedness in terms of moral or psychological questions facing one or more of my characters. I want to believe that if my characters are intriguing, and the dialogue I write for them is engaging, I have bought myself some flexibility in other areas. Can you comment?
Hi Barry! Always great to see you here on WU. :)
I think that people writing mystery, thrillers, sci-fi and high fantasy worry more about quirks and/or plot twists, granted, but I have worked with writers in so-called “quieter” genres (romance, women’s fiction, YA, and even literary fiction) who worry that “not enough is going on” or “it’s not memorable enough.” Hence, the twists, quirks, and other gingerbread. It’s usually a matter of having with the basic story construction itself, and then trying to plaster over it rather than address the foundation. Once the foundation is addressed, the need for gimmicks melts away.
As to your question, I’m not quite sure what you mean.What other areas are you referring to? Could you expand on your fear a little bit more?
Cathy–The areas I mean have to do with adhering to conventional views related to plot points, three acts, out-of-the-gate clarity regarding protag-antag, and the like.
I may be guilty of “special pleading” for what I think I’m doing, but I am trying to invest my suspense series with moral ambiguity, and with conflicts that the central character in the series is often not aware of until well into the novel. The reader knows what the protag doesn’t (dramatic irony). If I succeed, the suspense is not in finding out whodunnit, or even howdunnit or whydunnit, but in “what happens next?”
So: can interesting, more nuanced characters offset structural heresy? One successful editor/writer said no, that keeping it simple is necessary, because that’s what readers expect–otherwise they lose interest.
I think that you need nuanced characters regardless. That should be a baseline. You can have the most simple, straightforward and stereotypical story line imaginable, and it will fail if the characters aren’t three dimensional. (It will probably fail anyway, but flat characters will kill just about any story, so I don’t think you can call that out as a differentiating point.)
If a plot is too formulaic, the only way it might succeed would be 1) the strength of the characters — the way people say “I would listen to Morgan Freedman read a phone book” for example, 2) the author’s voice or quality of the prose, (which is really a variation of #1), or 3) the author has built up enough of an audience that they’re counting on brand momentum rather than quality. (Hey, it happens.)
That said, if you want people to read “what happens next”, it suggests they have a certain investment, either in the character or the situation. Investment in a character usually comes from a clearly defined goal.
Think of a good friend. This is someone you admire, someone you genuinely like. They then tell you a story about going to the grocery store, getting a haircut, and dropping off a mislabeled package. Now, this is someone you LIKE. But at a certain point, unless you’re completely in LOVE with them (and perhaps not even then!) you’re going to ask: “What is the point to this? Why do I care?” and your mind is going to wander.
This isn’t over-simplifying or dumbing down for today’s mobile audience. This is simply giving your readers a point of investment and a framework. All stories should have a purpose — the point, the reason you care as a reader. Three act structure and focused GMC tends to be one of the most efficient ways to engender that engagement.
Long story short: sorry, you’re writing a suspense. You need a classic three act structure,in my opinion. That doesn’t mean be predictable, but it does mean follow the tenets and create surprises within that framework.
Great post. Shared with a friend and saved for future reference. Thanks
Oh, Cathy, Cathy, Cathy,
Goodness! I needed to read this today (and bookmarked it for tomorrow and future tomorrows). I was just talking to Jo about the lack of focus a certain writer (namely, me) had in his wip. We came to the same conclusion — I needed to define my story goal and refine the conflicts. We were casually PM’ing and didn’t nail it as thoroughly as you did, though. Goodness! I’ll say it again. Thanks. You had me at “Have.”
Great minds think alike…and you and Jo are definitely great! :D
I love this post. I often read other authors’ books, and admire the intricate plots. I have to remember that I also love books in which the stories are relatively simple, with an arc, in which a character experiences growth, and inhabits an interesting world. GMC all the way.
It’s a bit like cooking. There are some people who can pull off a really complex dish, with eighteen different ingredients, where each part works in harmony with all the others, but there’s always a central ideal, a concept. Then, there are some chefs who simply try adding more and more flavors until it’s a muddle. There’s nothing wrong with intricacy or simplicity, but there needs to be clear thought behind it. Sometimes — most times — simpler can be even harder!
And yes… GMC! GMC! WOOT! :D
Hi, Cathy:
Wonderful post. You develop beautifully (with great practical tips) two points that hit me in the head when I read STORY TRUMPS STRUCTURE, a wonderful writing guide by Steven James.
Those two points:
Don’t just add more problems. Make the core problem worse. (Just adding complication undermines the story’s unity, as you point out.)
Repetition kills tension (And having too many characters — specifically, multiple characters serving essentially the same dramatic function– is a form of repetition.)
This post is now going directly into the file I keep of essential writing advice I want my students and editing clients to have.
Have a great weekend.
David
Those are two great, succinct points! Thanks for that, and I’m glad you liked the post, David!
I think you hit the nail on the head when you said “Are your plot twists organic?” I find so many times that I am really into a good book and then, WHAM!, I get hit with something so out of the blue that it is not believable. This take away from the story from me and also leaves me with ‘a bad taste in my mouth’ for that book and sometimes the author themselves.