It has been posited that in all literature there are only thirty-six basic plots; and that all narratives are, of necessity, based upon one or another of them. Another view contends that there are only seven; another, three. Yet another insists that there is only one basic plot: Exposition, Rising Action, Climax, Falling Action, Denouement.
If there are, in fact, thirty-six plots, then this story is number twenty-eight: Obstacles to Love. On the other hard, if there’s just the one plot, then this part of the story would be the exposition.
Then again, this story could be number twenty-five, Adultery, or more likely, number six, Disaster, or even number sixteen, Madness. Love’s like that sometimes. Pretty often, actually. This may or may not be foreshadowing, in which a story hints at events to occur later.
Foreshadowing sometimes isn’t discernable, though, until the climax or even the denouement.
In the exposition, usually a story sets out an outline of who the characters are and how the story begins. It’s important not to give the whole plot away at once, because then the story will, in fact, have moved past the exposition already, into the rising action, and then the other parts, in rapid succession, and will be over too soon. This story wants to be a little longer than that. Not like a novel, or even a novella; this is a modest story, but it’s not entirely self-effacing. Plus, it’s early in this particular story, so it’s still trying to get its feet under it, still trying to get its confidence and figure out what, exactly, it is.
This story knows it’s not a novel, as it mentioned earlier; and it’s pretty sure it’s not a poem, although there’s a chance that it could be one of those experimental poems written in free verse.
So, in this story, story number twenty-eight, there are two characters, Boy and Girl, and what usually happens in the rising action is that Boy meets Girl. Boy is a shepherd, warrior, investment broker, doctor, or minor deity, as the case may be. Girl is possibly one of those things as well or perhaps is an airplane pilot, migrant farm worker, astronaut, chef, or ninja, or what have you.
There are probably other characters too, but this story hasn’t figured out who they are yet, exactly. In some stories there are families, who provide the Obstacles to Love; in other stories, the various obstacles and impediments are provided by fate or circumstance.
This story isn’t sure which of those it will be, but it’s leaning towards circumstance. It seems that every story after Romeo and Juliet in which the families create the Obstacles to Love has been a bit of a letdown. There’s still time to go in a different direction, though, as it’s still early. Sometimes having a change like that will surprise the reader; this is likely to amuse this story considerably.
This story suddenly realizes that it might not even exist without a reader. There is now a moment of existential angst in this story, story number twenty-eight. This passes, though. If, in fact, there’s just the one story after all, the one-plot model doesn’t require the participation of others, either readers or characters; it’s simply a structure, existing on its own, outside of everything, perfect and unchanging. There is now a bit of an epiphany in this story, in the contemplation of the beautiful spiritual wholeness of the one-plot model and how all stories are created in its image.
This story is wandering a bit; it was about to start into the rising action; but then it wandered back into the exposition some more. It’s time for this story to really get going.
When Boy meets Girl, it obviously has to happen somewhere, in some location, a cornfield, smithy, spaceship, hospital, or auto-repair shop that’s generally an important part of the plot. Sometime the location is just an excuse for a lot of poorly written, excessively florid, descriptive prose, though, unless the story’s Hamlet, or something like that. That story had a lot of beautifully vivid imagery that wasn’t just obnoxious bloviating.
Hamlet was a real feather in story number sixteen’s cap.
Some stories use a lot of big obscure words, like “bloviating.” This story is modest, but not entirely self-effacing, so there probably will be just a few, here and there, scattered about randomly like the chips in a chocolate chip cookie, which is a simile, and not a particularly good one at that.
This story, story number twenty-eight, is wandering again, so it’s time to really get into the rising action.
In this story, Boy meets Girl in a location that is of some importance.
Sometimes in story number twenty-eight, Boy and Girl meet randomly; other times, they have known each other for quite a while, perhaps all their lives; but their relationship develops from there in what is hopefully a surprising and/or interesting fashion. That’s what is going to happen this time.
This time, Boy and Girl had previously been strangers to each other, as they had come from two different locations far apart. Then, through circumstances about which some explanation may or may not be offered, Boy and Girl find themselves in each other’s company and find themselves engaging in some particular activity, exploring the moon, writing insurance policies, making pizza, or slaughtering demons, as the case may be. The particulars are quite important, as the activity can provide for a good amount of the action and interest in the rising action part of the plot.
So Boy and Girl meet each other in a location and find themselves engaging in an activity together. This involves a considerable amount of dialog, which hopefully is well-written. During this part of the rising action, as is generally the case in story number twenty-eight, Boy and Girl gradually find themselves developing romantic feelings for each other, often in spite of themselves, or in an unexpected way.
This is the part of the story at which the Obstacle to Love appears. As mentioned earlier, it is often either family or circumstance that provides the obstacle. Sometimes the family is represented by co-workers, fellow soldiers, or aliens from outer space, as the case may be. Sometimes these are examples of symbolism. All good stories should have some symbolism.
Hamlet had all kinds of good symbolism.
Story number twenty-eight finds itself wistfully wondering what it would do if it were story number sixteen. Perhaps Boy could go mad. Although that might also be an Obstacle to Love and then story number twenty-eight wouldn’t be story number sixteen after all, but would remain story number-twenty eight.
In a surprising twist, the obstacle in this case is going to be actual family after all: The Husband.
As it happens, Girl has been married to The Husband, who is a race car driver, emperor, butcher, or yoga instructor, as they case may be, for a number of years; although she’s been considering divorce, murder, or adultery. Because of this, Girl and Boy never discuss their rapidly developing feelings for each other, in spite of all the hopefully well-written dialog and in spite of the fact that they find themselves spending rather a bit more time together outside of the confines of the usual activity than seems appropriate.
In fact, they have started engaging in a considerable amount of hopefully well-written dialog at locations other than the location at which they usually engage in the activity together.
There’s another complication: The Other Woman, who may be a coal miner or an exotic dancer or a scrivener or what have you. Story number twenty-eight hasn’t seen a scrivener since Bartleby, who may or may not have been story number-sixteen.
In any case, Boy’s relationship with The Other Woman will create a nice parallel structure to the relationship between Girl and The Husband, although the two relationships are only tangentially similar. Sometimes it’s better that way.
Story number twenty-eight finds this pleasing.
On the other hand, that may be a sub-plot, and story number twenty-eight is then confronted with the question of how many sub-plots may possibly exist. Thirty-six? Just the one? Story number twenty-eight experiences grave doubts about everything it thought it knew, which isn’t much, except possibly on the subject of Obstacles to Love, on which it is allegedly an expert.
Story number twenty-eight isn’t so sure any more. This is starting to drive story number twenty-eight crazy, which would make it story number sixteen, of which story twenty-eight is generally quite enamored.
Story number twenty-eight finds itself thinking of story number sixteen rather a lot of late.
Boy had come to know The Other Woman some time back when the two of them had been engaging in another activity together at a different location. The Other Woman was, of course, extremely attractive, in the way that women are in stories; so of course Boy had gradually fallen in love with her.
The Other Woman did not share his feelings. When he had finally admitted to her how he felt, she had been horrified and rejected him immediately. In all fairness, though, Boy had surprised her with his admission and shouldn’t have really expected a better reaction from her. Boy hadn’t seen her since. This whole thing had, of course, broken Boy’s heart, which was to be expected.
In fact, this broke his heart so badly that he became depressed for a number of months, suicidal even, and spent a considerable amount of time gnashing his teeth and rending his tunic as the saying goes; or he would have, if this were an older story in which people still wore tunics. On a more modern note, he took up smoking again.
The story of Boy and The Other Woman may, actually, have been story number sixteen, Madness. Love is like that sometimes. Pretty often, actually. However, it makes its appearance in this story as one of the several Obstacles to Love. Not that The Other Woman was an impediment in any real way, but Boy’s abortive relationship with her had left him broken and in no way ready to plunge into another potentially painful relationship so soon.
Perhaps the story of Boy and The Other Woman was also story number twenty-eight, but appears as story number sixteen in this particular story number twenty-eight. It’s hard to say. Love’s like that sometimes. Pretty often, actually. This may or may not be foreshadowing, in which a story hints at events to occur later.
So, naturally, Girl and Boy spend much of their time together engaging in hopefully well-written dialog about the various shortcomings of the opposite gender, or rock polishing, or brain surgery, or what have you, as the case may be, time that increasingly came to feel illicit in some way as their feelings blossomed.
The phrase “feelings blossomed” is a bit of a cliché, something to be found in a bodice-ripper, although the phrase “bodice-ripper” is a cliché as well. This story is beginning to suspect that it might be some kind of experimental postmodernist examination of the literary process itself, although it’s not sure yet. This is a modest story, although not entirely self-effacing.
In any case, now that the Obstacles to Love have made their appearance, it naturally follows that Boy and Girl will fall in love. Otherwise this story will have ended without ever making it to its climax, which would mean that it never even was a story to begin with, regardless of whether there’s a reader or not.
All of this is driving story number twenty-eight crazy. Story number twenty-eight wonders if this is how story number sixteen feels.
Girl feels guilty about her developing feelings for Boy. Love’s like that sometimes. Pretty often, actually. This may or may not be foreshadowing, in which a story hints at events to occur later. She is, after all, married to The Husband; but she has been contemplating divorce, murder, or adultery for some time now. Boy feels that the whole thing is hopeless. Since Boy doesn’t really know about Girl’s feelings for him—although he suspects–Boy attempts to suppress his feelings for Girl. Boy also struggles considerably with the ethical dilemma presented by falling in love with The Husband’s wife. Boy also struggles considerably with the terror of knowing he will get his heart broken yet again if he allows himself to fall in love with Girl.
Although it’s not like he has a choice in the matter. That’s the nature of story number twenty-eight. That’s the nature of all of them, actually. Or just the one, depending.
In any case, this is the most important part of the rising action and leads directly to the climax, which is coming up shortly. Pointing out the impending arrival of the climax is not foreshadowing in this case, merely bad writing.
Hamlet had no bad writing whatsoever, story number twenty-eight finds itself thinking.
Eventually, in story number twenty-eight, it becomes more and more obvious to the two of them that they have, in the course of all of their hopefully well-written dialog up to this point, fallen in love with each other. Madly in love, even, though that’s a cliché; but it might be appropriate here, as it makes reference to the previously mentioned story number sixteen, which story number twenty-eight is finding progressively more intriguing.
Inevitably, Boy and Girl confess their feelings for each other in what is, finally, the climax of the story. Immediately after this, what is commonly referred to as an awkward silence ensues. Girl leaves the place where Boy lives, that is, Boy’s apartment, boat, temple, cave, or spaceship, as the case may be, which had been the location for this particular bit of hopefully well-written dialog, a detail that should have been mentioned a little earlier in this part of the story.
Story number twenty-eight has its faults, just like any other story. Except for Hamlet, that is; but that goes without saying, which is a cliché.
But, of course, story number twenty-eight would end here, and the climax wouldn’t really have been much of a climax were Boy and Girl to part forever at this point. Story number twenty-eight is not quite finished yet. Story number twenty-eight has only two thousand three hundred eighty words so far, up to but not including the words “two thousand three hundred eighty” and it feels like it needs at least a few hundred words more to be a proper short story.
This is a modest story, but it’s not entirely self-effacing.
And there is the fact that they do spend considerable time at the location engaging in the activity together as previously established in the rising action. So, of course, they inevitably find themselves in each other’s company again.
The location at which they regularly engage in the activity affords them little privacy in which to discuss the recent uncomfortable incident between them; so, predictably, they again end up at the place where Boy lives.
After even more of the previously mentioned awkward silence, they finally begin engaging in various sexual activities.
Here’s where things become tricky in story number twenty-eight. Sexual activities present numerous hazards for a story like story number twenty-eight, because the description of sexual activities often will pigeonhole a story into a narrowly defined genre.
Story number twenty-eight isn’t prudish, but if the sexual activities are presented in too graphic a manner, then it is merely pornography; and all that vivid descriptive imagery and hopefully well-written dialog has been wasted. Too lurid and flowery, and it ends up being merely a cheap romance, a fate that story number twenty-eight would just as soon avoid. Too vague, and it won’t serve the purpose of adequately describing this part of the story, which, after all, is the climax.
By now, story number twenty-eight has become rather pleased with the idea that it’s some kind of experimental postmodernist examination of the literary process itself. That has its pitfalls too, though. If the story handles the description of the sexual activities poorly, it may offend the standards of postmodernist feminist critical theory, about which it knows little.
Story number twenty-eight therefore decides that during the sexual activities, Boy and Girl will take turns being on top.
After the sexual activity, which is the climax of the story, which is a pun, and probably not a particularly good one at that, and certainly not worthy of inclusion in an experimental postmodernist examination of the literary process itself, Boy has a cigarette, as he had taken up smoking during the rising action, as the reader will recall, if, in fact, there is a reader, and if, in fact, this story actually does exist at all.
As the Obstacles to Love seem to have been overcome, story number twenty-eight may have now turned into story number twenty-five, Adultery.
As story number twenty-five continues, Boy and Girl meet regularly, several times a week at the place where Boy lives. They arrange their meetings—story number twenty-five wants to use the word “trysts,” but story number twenty-eight wouldn’t approve—they arrange their meetings after engaging in their usual activity at their regular location at which they had come to know each other during the rising action, or perhaps it was during the exposition; it was over two thousand words ago, and story number twenty-eight, which is now story number twenty-five, is getting confused. Or possibly going mad.
In any case, as story number twenty-five continues, Boy and Girl engage in the Adultery as often as possible. Both of them worry about getting caught, but The Husband, who is still Girl’s husband even though she has been contemplating divorce, murder, or adultery, for some time now, suspects nothing. This is the falling action part of the plot, if, indeed, there is just the one plot.
Story number twenty-five feels cheated that this story only became story number twenty-five in time for the falling action of the plot. However, story number twenty-five has little interest in, or use for, the Obstacles to Love and generally likes to get on with the Adultery as soon as possible. Although Adultery does often involve Obstacles to Love. Sometimes it is an Obstacle to Love.
Story number twenty-five has a moment of existential angst, which, of course, reminds it of story number sixteen. Story number twenty-five wonders whether story number sixteen would like story number twenty-five better than story number twenty-eight. Adultery and Madness would seem to go well together.
During the falling action of the plot, there continues to be a considerable amount of dialog, which hopefully is well-written, in between and during the Adultery.
Eventually, Girl divorces or murders The Husband; and story number twenty-five realizes that it has, in fact, been story number twenty-eight all this time after all. The Other Woman, who hasn’t made an appearance in this story for quite some time, has been completely forgotten by Boy, who continues to be head over heels in love with Girl.
“Head over heels” is a cliché, and best left for story number twenty-five. Story number twenty-eight has always looked down on story number twenty-five, ever since Romeo and Juliet, of which story number-twenty eight is quite proud, but then again, there is Othello, in which story number twenty-five really shone.
Story number twenty-eight has now reached the denoument, if there is, in fact, only the one plot. At this point, there are several possible directions in which story number twenty-eight could go. Story number twenty-eight could simply end with, “and they lived happily ever after,” and be done with it; but that would turn this story into a fairy tale, and all that work becoming some kind of experimental postmodernist examination of the literary process itself would have been wasted. It’s a cliché as well, and story number twenty-eight is still embarrassed by the whole thing with the chocolate chip cookies.
Perhaps Boy and Girl get married and live happily ever after and produce a fine brood of fat smiling children, one of whom grows up to be a genocidal fascist and would it have been better if the child had been aborted? But then story number twenty-eight would merely be a paragraph-long essay question in an introductory course in philosophy or ethics; and story number twenty-eight feels that it is, by now, far too sophisticated for such a fate.
This is a modest story, but it’s not entirely self-effacing
Or, it’s possible that Boy and Girl get married and live happily for a time and then Boy goes mad because of some hitherto unmentioned medical condition and then Girl eventually divorces him, after a considerable amount of hopefully well-written dialog, and who can blame her really?
Story number twenty-eight is intrigued by this idea, but finds that it induces a certain amount of anxiety, worrying about what story number sixteen would think of this. Story number twenty-eight has butterflies in its stomach, which is a cliché and not a particularly good one at that.
No one seems to know what story number sixteen, Madness, actually thinks about all of this.
So perhaps story number twenty-eight should just end at this point and rest on its laurels, even though that’s a cliché; and, in fact, no one has actually worn laurels since roughly the time of Caesar, and it’s highly unlikely that he ever sat, much less rested for any length of time, upon them, except maybe once by accident.
Some stories, of course, end simply with the words, “The End,” but being rather pleased with the fact that it does, indeed, seem to be some kind of experimental postmodernist examination of the literary process itself, story number twenty-eight decides that that would not be in keeping with its image.
Story number twenty-eight decides that it can keep everyone happy by not just baldly sticking the words “The End” at the end.
J. Richard McLaughlin
richard_mclaughlin@hotmail.com
