If you have to put that space in there, to keep people interested in the flick, so that they’ll hold on long enough to see the central plot get started, give the audience another story to follow, one you can get started on right away. A subplot.

Here’s the thing, though. Don’t just repeat the theme of the central plot. Either contradict it for some delicious irony or do something of a variation on a theme, a common musical devise.

Here’s your character: “This cutie is gonna love my little joke then I’ll buy her a drink and we’ll go home together.” He walks up to her, tells her a joke, and gets slapped. Whoa, he didn’t expect this. What now?

Or: “No one here is interested in me. I shouldn’t have come. I’m gonna go…” Then a beautiful woman walks up and says hi. What now, fool?

These are tame examples. Try big stuff too: “When I point this gun at the clerk, he’ll give me the money, I’ll run away.” What really happens? “When I invade this country, we’ll be welcomed as liberators.” Yeah?

No one’s gonna read this blog.

Come on, show me the gap!

The problem is, I’m chicken about creating conflict in my stories. With most of my experience being poetry, I paint still lives, in a snapshot drawing out all the intricacies I can find.

Rather than change that natural instinct, I’m going to follow through with that skill to see why those intricacies may be there and where they may lead. And, so that there’s some story to follow, what might get in the way of their journeys.

New television comedy “Community” recently aired with a monologues by Joel McHale in which, getting to the heart of how people relate to one another, he holds up a pencil, “This pencil’s name is Steve,” then abruptly snaps Steve in half.

Good case in point.

But then McKee talks about something else, something apparent but that I had never considered before. He says that all characters will take the most minimum, conservative action necessary to get what he/she desires. When a character acts extraordinarily, it is a combination of the protagonist’s willingness to pursue his/her desire and circumstances where the most conservative action is objectively outstanding.

This is a great way to direct the writing process as you sculpt the action in your story. It makes it easier to understand the choices your character will make. Also, if there’s a particular action that you want your character to take, you can sculpt the circumstances of the story to require it of your character. This is liberating to think that any scenario imaginable, subtle or extreme, is acceptable to the audience as long as it is obviously the most conservative choice to make in the given set of circumstances.

So seeing a character lose what he/she thought was the one thing that he/she needed or deny themselves attainment of a thing they’ve striven toward tirelessly, in order to gain something deeper, less tangible, is tremendously satisfying. It feels more authentic than an up-ending or down-ending alone.

And that’s just it. As a writer, it is two endings in one.  Both of them have to be uniquely satisfying without having the effect of cancelling each other out emotionally. Ironic endings are the hardest to write and have the biggest pay off.

A controlling idea is similar to a theme. “Happiness fills your life if you love unconditionally,” or “Crime doesn’t pay when the detective is more clever than the criminal.” Idea vs. counter idea is the back and forth between both sides of your controlling idea: crime pays when the criminal is still free, crime doesn’t pay as the detective gets closer. Crime pays, crime doesn’t pay, pays, doesn’t pay, pays, doesn’t pay. 

I’m excited to experiment and employ this advice. Subdividing the arc of a story into one-upmanship of the protagonist and his/her obstacle, human or otherwise, seems like a manageable writing approach, like laying bricks instead of carving a figure out of stone.

A writer needs to make sure that the antagonist is as strong as the protagonist for this to be a compelling form. If the bad guy is nuts and will probably self destruct, we’re not invested in the conflict.

I think that I’ve been holding myself back in this category, being too defensive of my controlling idea/protagonist, and not allowing the counter idea/antagonist gain any ground.

The climax is the last piece of action, the last of the back and forth, and will determine optimism, pessimism or irony. Irony is when the protagonist doesn’t get what he/she originally wanted, but sacrifices it for something else, something more valuable.

McKee advises that you don’t use your controlling idea to create action, but instead create your actions, and reflect upon the causes to find the controlling action. This self-discovery he suggests is important to truthful stories that will affect and audience.

This too is specifically freeing advice for me. Developing action without consideration to the controlling idea allows one’s imagination to create uninhibitedly.

I started this blog to chronicle books as I read them. Read my log to get the gist of books I read if you don’t want to read them yourself. Or, if you want to read along, consider this a book club.