I recently came across Amazon’s “100 Science Fiction and Fantasy Books to Read in a Lifetime.”
As a fantasy writer myself, I decided to spend the next few years reading every book on this list and record the lessons I learned from each volume on how to be a great writer.
PLOT: According to The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch (the world’s only completely accurate book of prophecies, written in 1655, before she exploded), the world will end on a Saturday. Next Saturday, in fact. Just before dinner.
So the armies of Good and Evil are amassing, Atlantis is rising, frogs are falling, tempers are flaring. Everything appears to be going according to Divine Plan. Except a somewhat fussy angel and a fast-living demon—both of whom have lived amongst Earth’s mortals since The Beginning and have grown rather fond of the lifestyle—are not actually looking forward to the coming Rapture. – goodreads.com
WHAT WE CAN LEARN: A while back I wrote a post on how A Wrinkle in Time contains the perfect opening few pages. Later I wrote about how American Gods has an incredible midpoint twist. Now I’m going to focus on the climax, and who could ask for a better climax than Armageddon? So let’s talk about Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.
*It should go without saying that the following contains spoilers.*
Good Omens is a delightfully convoluted book with countless characters and storylines that (mostly) come together in a military base just moments before a nuclear war is about to break out. One member of the massive cast is Newt Pulsifer, a terminally befuddled young man who is clearly out of his depths in any situation, especially the apocalypse. There is a running joke throughout the novel that he is hopelessly inept when it comes to technology. If he turns on a computer the whole city’s network shuts down.
Just as the earth is about to be reduced to ash, Newt and Anathema Device (a witch he has hopelessly fallen in love with) rush into a room containing the machines that are about to unleash unholy destruction upon the world. Newt admits to Anathema, who is well out of his league, that he is not a computer engineer as he claimed but is in fact so horrible with technology he breaks anything he tries to fix. Anathema runs with this logic and suggests that he “fix” the machines. Newt tries his hardest to make the machines run better. The entire system shuts down, the missiles aren’t launched and the world is saved!
Admittedly, this isn’t the novel’s true climactic moment. The characters still have to deal with the hosts of Heaven and Hell (both of whom REALLY want to see this whole apocalypse thing through to the end), but it is the scene I think writers can learn the most from.
Gaiman and Pratchett take a very typical climactic scene and turn it on its head. Is there anything more basic than a book or movie ending with a ticking clock counting down to when the building/city/planet is about to explode? And that’s fine. Just because it’s been done before doesn’t mean you can’t do it again, just as long as you give it your own unique little twist.
So how do G&P make it “unique?” First of all they fill Newt’s storyline with foreshadowing, showing us just how horrible he is with technology. It’s the best kind of foreshadowing because we don’t even know they’re doing it. On the surface it just seems like we’re being given the character’s hilariously tragic backstory and a handful of side jokes. Newt is exactly the type of character who would be so inept he couldn’t work a toaster. (For the record, J.K. Rowling is the master of providing foreshadowing in the form of funny asides. Read the early Harry Potter books for a master class in this.)
Typically G&P would have Newt show up at the military base and let him prove himself a hero. He’d pull himself together, crawl into the machine, cut the red wire and save the day. Fortunately, G&P didn’t take the easy way out. Newt shows up and literally does the opposite of what you’d expect. Instead of trying to break the system, he tries to fix it and therefore breaks it more effectively. And the fact that he reacts in an opposite manner is what’s key to making the scene so memorable.
Look at the dramatic moments throughout your novel (especially the climactic scene) and ask yourself, “What if the hero does the opposite of what we’re expecting?”
Let’s say you have a scene where the main character is dumped. We expect them to burst into tears, that is a typical reaction. But what if they burst out laughing? Laughter is the opposite of what we’re expecting, but it might not be out of character. People laugh all the time when they’re under stress. Therefore the reader might be surprised, but still accept this as a believable response.
What if when the Private Investigator catches the murderer instead of arresting them, they hug them and say, “I understand.” What if when the knight faces the dragon he tries to befriend/train it? What if when the data processor realizes she is stranded on a deserted island her initial reaction is relief that she will never have to go to work again? Obviously, the heroes might then go on and do what is expected. The murderer will (most likely) be arrested and the data processor will start to panic but giving us just a hint of an alternative response will add a great deal of flavor to the story. And if you’re writing a book like Good Omens it will add a whole lot of comedy.
It goes without saying that it isn’t always appropriate to have your hero give the opposite response, and if you do it too much it can become predictable. You’ll want to be certain that the response fits the tone of the story and your character’s personality. Also, you will most likely have to go back to earlier moments to sprinkle foreshadowing so the response makes sense. This technique can add a little extra time to the editing process, but you’ll end up with a scene that’s a whole lost more interesting than just having your character cut the red wire.
