by J. Scott Coatsworth
Sometimes we writers get stuck in a boring backwater, with nothing exciting at hand to move the story along. That’s when this little sleight of hand trick comes in handy.
Let’s say your characters are on a quest for the fabled Sword of Bighands.
They’re sitting around a thick iron-banded wooden table at the Borderlands Pub, a dark, seedy, local hangout where you can buy anything from drugs to human slaves. Or a really good guide to get you out of Bordertown and across the great Scorched Desert, to the fabled Treasure Lands on the other side of that hot, dry, shimmering expanse of red sand.
Your characters are talking about the long trek ahead, sharing war stories, and sipping on curiously ice-cold mead. And they’re absolutely bored out of their gourds.
So what can you do to liven things up?
Put a Wolf Under the Table
What would happen when your new pet wolf appeared in the midst of those tangled legs and began to snarl and bite at all the soft body parts within its reach under that beer-soaked table? When someone lost a finger (or worse) and people started to react with screams, falling backward out of their chairs and maybe even fighting back against our poor displaced wolf while the rest of the Pub looks on in startled confusion?
When your plot slows to a crawl, one of the easiest ways to fix it is to throw in an unexpected element that turns everything on its head, and sends the story racing off in a new direction. Just think of the questions this plot bunny raises:
- Why is there a wolf under the table?
- Who put it there?
- Was it there the whole time, and only woke up and snarled when someone stepped on its tail?
- Is it a werewolf?
- Why am I just standing here while said wolf slaughters my fellow questers?
Example:
I had a rather boring scene in one of my novels with several of my characters sitting in carriages, en route from the city to a manor out in the countryside. It was raining, and one of the POV characters was staring out the window, brooding on his life and his fate.
For a paragraph or two, it was fine, but after four or five, even he began to roll his eyes at me.
I needed a wolf:
Aik grabbed hold of the handle above the door, peering out into the falling rain. “I don’t think so. It’s—”
The carriage lurched forward and then down, sending him flying into the front of the cabin.
Aik caught himself with his right hand, saving himself from a probable broken nose. There was a horrid grinding sound, and then everything came to a screeching halt with the carriage laying at an awkward angle.
Boom. Wolf added. Okay, so it’s not a literal wolf. Instead it was an unexpected and sudden event. The carriage had broken a wheel, stranding Aik and his two companions and their driver in the middle of an old iron bridge. They did the sensible thing and started to replace the tire.
Sometimes One Wolf Isn’t Enough
A low rumble quickly grew into a crescendo, and the bridge began to sway crazily under Aik.
“Quake! Hold on!”
Malin dropped the wheel, and it bounced away, rolling down the shaking bridge. He reached for the carriage, but a jolt threw him back against the rail, where he collapsed to the ground.
Wolf number two—an earthquake—is just as unexpected, and immediately complicates the issues caused by wolf number one.
Now our boring riding-in-the-carriage scene has been transformed into a thrilling run-for-your-life one as our characters scramble in a mad dash to get off the bridge before it collapses. And as a bonus, our poor friend Aik still has all his brooding worries going on in the background.
These events also set things up nicely for a reveal of the secret Aik has been hiding from his best friend, which itself sends the story careening off in a new direction.
Plot wolves can take many forms—physical events, surprise arrivals of other characters, secrets revealed, etc. For a master class in this technique, check out the most recent version of Lost in Space. This show regularly releases two or three plot wolves per an episode, creating chaos and plot movement (and making the phrase “Things are not looking good for our heroes” run through my head almost constantly).
Caution
You do have to be careful about overusing this device, though. Wolves are an endangered species, after all. Too many plot wolves, and your readers may start feeling like sheep being fleeced with the same trick, especially if your characters escape unscathed every single time.
Still, the “wolf under the table” is a surefire way to add a little life to a tired plot arc and get things moving again.
And if you need some additional inspiration, I may have a pack of wolves (at a decent discount) to sell you.
While I have modified it, I first ran across this concept in a session given by author Damon Suede.
Have you used the wolf under the table (or similar) plot device?
About Scott
Scott lives with his husband Mark in a little yellow bungalow with two pink flamingoes in Sacramento. He inhabits the space between the here and now and the what could be. Indoctrinated into fantasy and sci fi by his mother at the tender age of nine, he devoured her library. But as he grew up, he wondered where the people like him were.
He decided it was time to create the kinds of stories he couldn’t find at Waldenbooks. If there weren’t queer characters in his favorite genres, he would remake them to his own ends.
His friends say Scott’s brain works a little differently – he sees relationships between things that others miss, and gets more done in a day than most folks manage in a week. He seeks to transform traditional sci fi, fantasy, and contemporary worlds into something unexpected.
A Rainbow Award winning author, he runs Queer Sci Fi, QueeRomance Ink, Liminal Fiction, and Other Worlds Ink with Mark, sites that bring queer people together to promote and celebrate fiction reflecting their own reality. Scott was the committee chair for the Indie Authors Committee at the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA) for almost three years. His author webite is J. Scott Coatsworth.
