Wired for Story: The Writer's Guide to Using Brain Science to Hook Readers from the Very First Sentence by Lisa Cron Read Free Book Online Page B

action when she doesn’t get what she wants. Take action? Ah yes, the plot.
THE PROTAGONIST’S ISSUE VERSUS THE PLOT
     
    As we know, it’s the plot that puts the protagonist through his paces, presenting increasingly difficult obstacles that must be overcome if he’s to get within grabbing distance of the brass ring.
    But the plot’s goal isn’t simply to find out whether he snags that brass ring or not; rather, it’s to force him to confront the internal issue that’s keeping him from it in the first place. This issue is sometimes called the protagonist’s “fatal flaw,” and whether a deep-rooted fear, a stubborn misperception, or a dubious character trait, it’s what he’s been battling throughout and what he must finally overcome to have a clear shot at the last remaining obstacle. Ironically, once he overcomes it, he often realizes true success is vastly different from what, up to that verysecond, he thought it was. This is frequently the case in romantic comedies and is usually the moment when the big lug finally realizes that the beautiful, stuck-up, rich, thin girl he’s been hell-bent on winning since the opening credits isn’t
nearly
as loveable as the cute, cuddly, beautiful, thin middle-class girl next door.
    Not so with Scarlett.
    Scarlett’s fatal flaw is self-absorption, which when harnessed to her unstoppable gumption, makes her vulnerable in a way she cannot see. But we can. And so we’re rooting for her not only to survive, but also to gain enough self-awareness to keep herself from throwing out the baby with the bathwater. Does she? Almost, but she’s a day late and a dollar short. Which is why when the book ends, unlike Rhett, we do give a damn.
SCARLETT’S SPECIFIC GOAL—WHAT DOES
SCARLETT REALLY WANT?
     
    But wait; it still feels like something’s missing in our description of the novel. Sure, fatal flaw or not, Scarlett wants to survive. But don’t we all? Indeed we do, which makes survival, in and of itself, generic—one of those abstract universals. In other words, the same would be true of everyone, so it doesn’t tell us a thing about Scarlett herself and adds nothing to the story. The question is:
What does survival mean to Scarlett?
Plot-wise (that is, on the corporeal plane where the action unfolds) this translates to:
What does Scarlett need in order to feel she’s survived what life has thrown at her?
The answer is her family’s plantation, Tara. Meaning,
land
. As her father tells her early on, “Land is the only thing in the world that amounts to anything.…” Land is what ties you to your past and makes you who you are. Without it, you are nothing. This becomes Scarlett’s benchmark, the thing that she’s sure will prove she’s survived.
    Is she right?
Is
land what ties you to your past and makes you who you are? God, let’s hope not. This is why Scarlett emerges both a successful and a tragic figure. And why her blindness to what she trulywants—caused by her fatal flaw—is understandable, rather than annoying or, worse, hair-pullingly frustrating to the reader. Readers are a surprisingly accepting lot when it comes to willfully blind protagonists, provided they understand the reason for their blindness. This is often exactly what such stories are about: why
would
a person work overtime to stay blind to something that is painfully clear to everyone else? In fact, sometimes the “aha!” moment belongs to the reader rather than the protagonist. It’s the epiphany that comes of realization that not only isn’t the protagonist going to change, but for the first time we grasp the full weight of what the self-imposed blindness is protecting her from.
    So, getting back to Scarlett, let’s add a clause to our description:
    Gone with the Wind
is about a headstrong southern belle whose unflinching gumption causes her to spurn the only man who is her equal, as she ruthlessly bucks crumbling social norms in order to survive during the Civil War by keeping the