When Something Good Incites Story
By Kathryn Craft | June 13, 2019 |
photo adapted / Horia Varlan
A story arc is launched when something happens to a protagonist that knocks her off her rails. Life did not go as expected this day, and in fact, life may never seem the same again. You may call this event something else, but I use the common term “inciting incident” because it makes sense to me—this is the incident that incites the main character to create a story goal. In pursuit of the goal, the story action begins.
Authors in every genre have put all manner of hurt on our poor characters in such a scene. Frank L. Baum sent Dorothy Gale’s Kansas home over the rainbow to squish the Wicked Witch of the West in the Land of Oz. In Good in Bed, Jennifer Weiner had Cannie Shapiro discover that her skinny, pothead ex-boyfriend was now writing a major magazine column about what it was like sleeping with a fat girl—her. In The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, Katniss’s beloved younger sister, Prim, is randomly chosen to participate in a televised fight to the death.
I am one of those authors. In my novel The Far End of Happy, a woman who is at the end of her rope in trying to help her husband end the destructive behaviors threatening their family, prepares for the day that he promises to leave—all the while adding up the disturbing clues that this is the day he plans to die.
When a character butts up against an unexpected horror, it’s easy to see why life might never be the same for them.
But what about when life provides an unexpected turn of good fortune? The world is full of entitled leaders and suicidal celebrities to serve as examples: when we suffer a windfall, we don’t always negotiate it well. Such “be careful what you wish for” tales can be equally as compelling, and yet in preparing this post, I noted I have very few on my overstuffed shelves. (“Woman Killed by Tipping Bookshelf”—did she suffer a horror, or a windfall?)
That’s one reason why reading The Overdue Life of Amy Byler by Kelly Harms was such an unexpected delight. Amy is a librarian and mother of two teens, and though overworked and stressed, has been managing as a single mom the past three years after her husband went abroad on a business trip, “forgot to come home, and has been living with a much-younger Korean woman. In the opening, she bumps into her husband in her local drug store. As she cowers behind an end-cap display of Q-tips, she struggles to pull herself together:
One time, only a few weeks after he left us, I thought I saw a John-shaped man in the back of a car with a ride-sharing label on it turning onto our street, and I got this absolutely certain feeling, the feeling of just knowing, and my blood began to race through my veins, and I felt like, I don’t know, lie I had been trapped in a canyon without food or water, and now someone was coming with a rope ladder to save me.I pulled over and water for the car to pull into the driveway. But it didn’t. It passed right by while I sat there staring at it in my rearview, watching it drive past without slowing. I took it so hard I couldn’t see to drive for twenty minutes.
This is not that. This is not a drill. He is back, and I would rather die of thirst that take any rope he has to offer me now.
John tells her he wants to see the kids. In fact, he wants to step up and care for them to give her a break—first for a week, and when that goes well, the summer.
All of her anger towards him is piqued afresh as she notes he is standing beside all of the gauze, ointments and icepacks he’d need should she attack him. Her first thought is no—she will not indulge this whimsy. And yet, isn’t this what she was ostensibly wanting, in not pursuing divorce all these years? Isn’t it what all overburdened moms, whose husbands go missing for the military or work or a religious pursuit of golf want—for their husbands to show up and give them a break?
When Amy is offered a reprieve from her martyred life, she loses her definition of self. What would she even do if she could design her own days—and with her husband’s credit card, to boot? She goes to a school librarian conference In New York City, of course. Wouldn’t you? The move is more rewarding than it may sound, especially when new and old friends exert an influence. The story of how Amy Byler reawakens to self is so engaging that its hashtags, #momspringa and #hotlibrarian, bring a smile from its many knowing fans.
Harms’ twist on an inciting incident brought to mind another beloved title on my shelf, Lottery, by Patricia Wood. The main character is 32-year-old Perry L. Crandall, the dedicated employee of a marine supply store in the harbor city of Everett, Wash. With an IQ one point higher than “retarded,” and the grandmother who loved him deceased, Perry hasn’t enjoyed the enduring interest of the rest of his extended family—that is, until he wins a $12-million lottery jackpot. The reader might reasonably assume Perry is unequal to the task of sorting through the avalanche of unwanted, self-serving advice from his “loved ones,” and of course drama ensues—but in the end, you might believe that the “L” in Perry L. Crandall stands for “Lucky,” just like his dearly departed Gram said.
A wayward husband comes home, wondering if he made a big mistake. A mentally challenged man wins a lottery jackpot. These inciting incidents do not necessarily inspire the reader to say “How horrible!” But they do beg the question, “What will s/he do now?”—and that is the point.
Not every character needs to be hit by a train to be knocked off her rails. Sometimes, you can come up with a story that is just as involving and memorable by making something unexpectedly good happen.
Have you ever read or written a novel with a seemingly “good” inciting incident? Did you find it engaging? Or, have you personally suffered from the discombobulating effect of a sudden windfall? Let’s rack up some more examples and discuss!
[coffee]
Kathryn Craft (she/her) is the author of two novels from Sourcebooks, The Art of Falling and The Far End of Happy. Her forthcoming book, Crafting Story Movement: Techniques to Engage Readers and Drive Your Novel Forward, draws from decades of experience as both a story consultant and a movement specialist/dance critic. Learn more on Kathryn’s website.
What a great observation, KC! Honestly, I’d never thought about how many novels start off with some sort of tragedy (big or small).
Seems to me there are a lot more tragic events that incite story than windfalls. Sort of makes me want to try one…
Love this fresh take on the “inciting incident!” We do tend to assume that some sort of unforeseen loss, tragedy, danger, or dire event is The Thing That Launches the Story. But why? What if the protagonist finds herself offered the chance of a lifetime or an unexpected inheritance? Wouldn’t we be just as interested in finding out what happens next as we would be if we’d learned that she’d been diagnosed with a fatal disease? Just because the news pays more attention to negative events than positive ones doesn’t mean that we—as writers and readers—need to do the same. Thanks, Kathryn!
Funny you mention the news, Barbara, because I was just thinking while writing this of how a lot of people are sick to death of what they find there. It makes a “positive” inciting incident a bit of a draw just now, doesn’t it?
Kathryn–Here’s why I like your post so much: You are making and illustrating the argument for inciting events that don’t rely on extreme melodrama (houses dropped on witches, learning sis has to fight to the death, etc).
I admire stories that create a sense of meaning and drama by relying on fully realized, real-world crises or nexus points, not standard gimmicks. The illustrations you offer make your point very well, and the idea of a windfall as an inciting incident is especially good.
Developing successful novels, including those that rely on extreme circumstances is not easy. But what’s a lot more difficult–and in my view more worthy of respect–are novels in which the writer’s skill and perception are what make the ordinary anything but.
Love this Barry, about nexus points and this: “But what’s a lot more difficult—and in my view more worthy of respect–are novels in which the writer’s skill and perception are what make the ordinary anything but.” I agree. Thanks so much for adding to the discussion!
Thank you for a post that opened a door I hadn’t noticed. I write crime stories and have used inciting incidents that – briefly – appeared positive but none that stayed that way. It would be an interesting change of pace. I’m thinking….
Okay Patricia you have pushed my brain into overdrive with how to apply this to crime fiction! Would the crime at hand have to be, say, the murder of a Charles Manson-level bad guy, that seems good at first, but creates other problems later?
Good point, Kathryn. Crime demands a body, but yes, a Manson-level body might be categorized as a windfall for the police, the governor, the victims’ families….
What a wonderful post! My head is buzzing with ‘positive’ possibilities. :-)
I’m so happy, Rebecca! Thanks for stopping by.
Another excellent article Kathryn!
Thanks Sheri!
Thanks for this post. I sometimes, well often, weary of those stories where something bad happens to the MC, then something worse, and then worse. It’s exhausting. When did we decide that stories and people for that matter, can’t be interesting without constant increasing tragedy?
Shelley, your comment brings to mind the children’s book by Judith Viorst, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. Every story my younger son wrote for school was of the sort: things were bad, they got worse, then got even worse, and THEN you’re not going to believe how bad it got! It’s a running joke in our family but I know what you mean—it sometimes seems that authors are trying to outdo each other with horror, instead of as Barry said above, creating truly dramatic situations. Thanks so much for stopping by to lend your perspective!
I have an “inciting incident” of my own that I’m thinking of making into a novel of my own. But I’m very worried about discombobulating … maybe that’s why I haven’t gotten that far with writing it.
Pitfalls abound in writing a novel based on true events, Davida, as I know from the writing/rewriting of The Far End of Happy. The story will benefit from allowing yourself the distance from your own inciting incident so that you can have true compassion for all of the characters who put pressure on your main character to change, for it is their story too. For me, that was 16 years, but of course your mileage may vary. Once you gain the perspective needed to tell the story, you’ll be burning to write it—and then, while discombobulating your character, you-as-author will be patching together meaning.
This is so enlightening as I think about some of the books I enjoy reading. I’m thinking of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. The inciting incident? A wealthy new bachelor moves into a neighborhood. Or Elinor Lipinsky’s The Family Man’s inciting incident–a gay man’s sympathy card to his ex-wife on her husband’s death, which deluges him in relational conundrums including the search for his beloved but estranged adult stepdaughter.
Thought provoking words, Kathryn, for my own work-in-progress. Thank you!