What makes Game of Thrones, and all really compelling stories, so great?

Everyone in that book and show, every single solitary person, named or unnamed, ongoing players or incidental  walk-ons, is passionately advancing their own self-interest.  They know what they want and they bite and scream, kill, plot, manipulate, and die for it.

96748a784dfb2c9e87dd7d1f39b4f09fOne character through the first few books, and only one, was known for her passivity. She was a young girl in a dream world, thinking the sadistic Joffrey was her true-love prince, then that a handsome knight would rescue her, etc. That was Sansa, and until recently (when her attitude changed) she was the most unpopular person in the books. She did nothing really wrong but she didn’t fight for what she wanted. Not fighting seemed to be what she wanted–the Cinderella complex in Westeros.

Readers despised her. Proves my point, huh?

Good detective stories start with someone who wants something very badly. Badly enough to kill for it? would be the cliché comeback. The inheritance. The beautiful woman. To not be exposed. Unless they’re willing to kill for it, there’s not much of a story. And the detective wants something too, which drives their pursuit of the evildoer.

Think about the classic detective stories. There’s the nobleman who wants the compromising picture of himself with an adventuress. The drug kingpin who wants more money and influence, the flunkies who will maim to rise up in the organization, and the detectives with heartbreaking backstories which slowly emerge. A good plot brings out all these passions.

Thrillers: Secret societies with devotees who give their lives, over centuries, to protect their treasure. Bad guys want riches and both sides throw an endless stream of operatives into the fray, all willing to kill or be killed. Ivy League professors with physical stamina want to save the world, kiss the girl, and get back to the classroom.

rexfeatures-1998559dWar stories revolve around that kill or be killed mentality. Romances revolve around passion and sexual tension. Westerns throw misogynists and misfits into a setting with no rules and lots of guns. Fantasy? The topic is broad, but does anyone doubt what Katniss wants? As well as any character in the Hunger Games? That’s another series in which even the incidental folks are clearly driven by specific needs.

Every story worth reading makes you root for the hero,  and you can’t really do that if he or she has no deep desires, no wish to fulfill, no purpose.  That is the problem of one book I’m reading now: it started out with a bang, a woman leaves her husband for a disastrous affair. But once that ends, about a fifth of the way into the book, readers become mired in everyday angst and unimportant encounters. I don’t care about the hero or her dates and emails anymore.  I don’t see where this story is going.

In contrast, Gone Girl started with a missing wife and a narrator who flat out told us he was lying to the police. Who could put the book down? We had to find out what he had to find out: who took her? Or did he know? He wanted passionately to clear himself. Gone Girl presents a small cast but each person was willing to destroy the others to get what they wanted.

Ramp up the stakes and desires, and you’ve got Game of Thrones.

If you’ve read any advice on writing fiction, you’ve probably come across the excellent idea that every book or scene start with our hero wanting something, even something mundane. A glass of water that gets them up in the middle of the night. To forget their awful mess of a life, so they spin fantasies about the people they pass while riding a train to nowhere.  A new job for a little extra money that leads them into adventure.

Yes! I can put two and two together!

moby_dick_by_alexiussHerman Melville in Moby Dick used a brilliant twist to hone and sharpen everyone’s desires: he put them all on a ship in the Atlantic, where all anyone could truly desire was a successful voyage. That meant they all wanted to slaughter whales and make bucks. Then, led by their obsessed captain, they all wanted the white whale.

In Uncle Tom’s Cabin, the slaves dream of freedom, while the varied cast of white characters enjoy the lives that they’ve chosen – either with slaves facilitating their lifestyles, or by venting their cruelty on said slaves, making commerce of slaves, etc.

The title character in The Great Gatsby was driven to spend years building himself into someone Daisy would love, but his world was populated by shallow, lesser souls who wanted desperately to stay drunk and convince themselves they were having fun. Tom wanted to hold onto what was his. Daisy wanted it all, but like Sansa, she wanted the men to make up her mind for her. Their passions drove them all, and Nick, bless him, wanted none of it in the end.

250px-masha_heddle_hboI want to find the man who killed my father and duel with him. I want true love and will break hearts and marriages to get it.

The best books manage to imbue desires and motivations into every character. I don’t need to know each innkeeper’s backstory, though occasionally it’s given. And later, when one’s dead body is hung up by vengeful brigands, her story becomes complete, even though, in the vast scheme of George R.R. Martin’s world, she didn’t matter at all, wasn’t even a plot point. I’m not sure she even had a name, but I remember her.

The nice thing about living the Los Angeles area is that there are so many meetings–both social and instructive–for writers there. **

oldtypewriterRecently, I listened to a wonderful editor of many years’ experience talk about writing. She said that the most important choices writers make is what to put in, and what to leave out.

Yes! And I would guess that no one gets that exactly correct, because each reader is a little different. Some wish for more detail, while others are impatient to get to the end.

Time changes our preferences too. I just read Middlesex: A Novel that won the Pulitzer Prize twelve years ago. Guess what? Much as I loved  it–loved it, truly madly deeply loved it–there were a few parts where I thought the author went on a little too long. Did he? The Pulitzer committee didn’t think so. I am sure the reason I did is that in the last twelve years, we’vecome to want more and more trimmed from our stories.

Remember when Joe Friday used to say “Just the facts, ma’am,” whenever someone started to ramble? Who knew he was prognosticating?

Manylintes

Really?

Anyway, back to Editor Aviva’s talk. What to put in and what to leave out?

She used the image of a stage, so picture your story on an empty stage, scene by scene:

  • Where does the spotlight go?
  • How many people are on the stage? Do they all need to be there?
  • Really?

OnelightTo start setting the stage at the beginning, you must be clear for the reader about who the protagonist is and what the story is about. Every detail should contribute to that.

She put this in another way: Think of your story as a magnet. Everything in that story must adhere to the magnet. Little asides and scenes that don’t adhere to the story should be dropped.

In all the areas Aviva the Editor talked about–voice, point of view, structure, etc.–the main advice she had to impart was CONSISTENCY. Always be consistent.

  • Point of View: once you establish a point of view, stay with it!  If you’re omniscient, jumping into everyone’s head, you have to stay with that. If you’re telling one person’s story through their eyes, stay with that.  If you tell a story from one person’s standing for 150 pages, please don’t suddenly switch to another person for a chapter. That’s so jarring it can ruin the story.
  • World Building: Even in SciFi and Fantasy, where you create the world, you must be consistent. If you create a world where the sun rises in the west, make sure it rises in the west throughout the novel. If the world is a burned-out wasteland, that world could not suddenly have a garden in it, right?
  • Characters: These must be consistent too. They must feel real, and they can be complicated, but the annoying girl with a whiny voice will not suddenly turn into a mothering, gentle soul. Now, people should and do change in the novel, but you have to lay the groundwork for that. You just don’t have people changing for no reason, or doing things randomly.
  • Style: If you’re writing in a tough-guy, 1940s voice, stay with it. Don’t change in the middle of the book! Don’t ‘forget’ to use it for a chapter or two!
  •  Stay consistent to the end. The reader must feel that the story is DONE. Folks have changed. Issues are resolved.

One other word of advice. In a book, you are opening the door for the reader to see another world. You have to kick it open!  You can’t just nudge it a little. Plunge in, and bring the reader with you.

** Rather than bore you with a recitation of all the opps a writer in LA has to be entertained, instructed, and befriended, I’ll just mention that said opps inspired me to create the Writers Calendar LA.  If you’re in the Los Angeles area, please check it out. And if you like, scroll to the bottom of the calendar and treat me to a virtual cuppa coffee to keep me chugging along.