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Workshop: The Art of Composition

(essay written by Jacqueline Lichtenberg for Writer's Workshop at Worldcon 1998)

Workshoppers:

OK, now I've read all 3 of the ms's submitted for the section I'm doing at
Buccaneer.  And two of them are DIFFERENT from the usual submissions.

And they're different from each other, yet similar. All three writers need
to learn how to chain plot-events together.  One of them needs to tame the
"everything and the kitchen sink" plotting tendency so common on this
workshop.  And one needs to learn pacing, and the dramatic adage that "less
is more" when it comes to comedy.  Both of these writers seem to cram too
much into too little space.  But I don't think it's really a problem of
"too much" but rather of which things are crammed together.

When it comes to cramming too much into too little space, the lesson shifts
from my favorite hobby horse of "structure" to a far more difficult subject,
COMPOSITION.

Fiction is an artform often defined as a "Selective Recreation of
eality"  -- and as such it should not resemble "reality's" tendency to be a
mixed up jumble of competing interests and affairs.

Fiction as an artform should sift out of the background noise of "real" life
some single, innate, PATTERN, and reveal that pattern to the reader in a
graceful and gradual way that makes a point about Reality.

Part of the satisfaction of a "good read" lies in the "aftertaste" that
lingers -- a sense of, "Now I Understand" something about everyday life
which leaves an increasing sense of security amidst the mad tumble of daily
events.

All artists use their art to REVEAL something about Life that might
otherwise be hard to see.

And to succeed, the artist has to be able to see the jumbled mess that real
life is, and then discern the shadow of a pattern underlying that jumble.
And then extract that pattern, emphasize it and show it to the reader.   It
isn't "art" when it simply records the jumble.

So, an artist looks at Reality as a gardener might look at a rain forest.
Then the artist selects certain flowers or plants to take home and lay out
on the workbench.  From that selected mess of flowers, the artist then
creates a Composition -- an Arrangement -- that reveals the beauty of the
flowers.  Or, put another way, the Gardener Selects a few plants from the
forrest and builds a Formal Garden as a setting for a Royal Palace.

That "Composition" generally consists of one or two DOMINANT elements, and
several smaller elements that enhance, echo or support that dominant
element.  This is true of flower arranging, photography, painting, and even
music.  And it's true of fiction also.

In painting or any graphic art, artists study about how to "lead the eye"
toward and away from certain focci in the composition.  Writers do the same
thing using the tool called POINT OF VIEW.

But before you can learn to "lead the eye" you have to have something to
lead the eye to, and something to lead the eye away from.

In graphic arts, you do this by establishing an object and a perspective.

In fiction, you do the same thing by choosing one of the 4 basic elements of
a fictional composition to start with:  Theme, Character, Situation,
Conflict

Once you have ONE of those 4 elements nailed in your mind, you then create
the other three TO MATCH -- to go with that one element you've identified.

You do NOT simply reach blindly into a grab-bag and pick out other elements
and cram them together and call it a story.  You do not just PICK something
that you've always been interested in, or something that someone suggested
that sounds commercially saleable, to go with the one thing you've decided
on.  You DERIVE all the other three from the one you know.  Each of these
four elements holistically contains the other three -- and the artist has to
tease them apart to display them to their best advantage for the
art-consumer.

Think of those 4 elements as a "still life" painting -- a bowl of fruit.
You select them for color, shape, texture, size.  You sprinkle water on them
for sparkle.  You arrange them for composition.  You choose the bowl that
will contain them (the plot contains these 4 elements and must be chosen
according to the nature of the elements to set them off and display them
well).  Each choice is limited by the preceding choices.  It's not a
science.  It's an art.  What goes with what is something you must learn to
FEEL.

So, you choose one of your elements for your story -- the large, dominant,
important element.  And then you SELECT all the other componenets of the
story to flatter, display, support, and enhance that one important element.

For example, if you're going to have a character who's an AI (artificial
intelligence), then you CHOOSE your human characters, your robots or
peripherals for the AI, your protagonist, antagonist, and walk-on characters
specifically to display or enhance the inner conflicts of the AI individual.

Artistically, if you choose to put -- say a giant Cyclops, an AI, and a
Vampire -- all into the same story,  these elements will tend to compete
with each other for the 'space' available.  Each of these elements is a
POWERFUL, and DOMINANT element.  They clash.  They fight each other for the
reader's attention.

Now a truly accomplished artist who understands composition and has fully
internalized it can produce a true work of art that contains several such
dominant elements.  But beginners generally mess it up by putting the
dominant elements too close together, or making them "the wrong colors" or
allowing them to detract from the clarity of the thematic statement.

As a rule of thumb, it is much better for a writer to master the Artform of
One single dominant element placed in the Center of the "bowl of fruit" and
then "supported" by sub-dominant elements carefully chosen to enhance the
one dominant element.  With practice, it may then be possible to master
something harder.  One writer who did have that mastery of composition who
instantly springs to mind is Tolkien.  He used an ensemble caste of major
dominant players -- but then look at the size of his books.  And note how
the characters dovetailed perfectly together.  The man was an artist, and he
had strong control over his material.

In a novel, you can have one DOMINANT theme -- and as many as two, possibly
three, sub-themes each derived FROM the dominant theme (not competing with
it).   Each sub-theme must illuminate some part of the major theme.  It
takes approximately 100,000 words to reticulate a single theme.  So such a
4-themed novel would need about 300,000 to 400,000 words.  We're talking WAR
AND PEACE here.

Likewise, you need a character to live out in show-don't-tell all the
details of each of these themes.  Thus you have ONE DOMINANT main pov
character, and as many as three sub-characters whose traits are chosen to
COMPLIMENT the main character's traits.  (one of those sub-characters is
your Main Antagonist)  (yes, you don't choose the antagonist just because
he's nifty-mean-nasty.  You generate the antagonist from the internal
conflict of the protagonist.  Or vice versa.  An&Pro-Tagonists are matched
SETS in an artistic composition, like left and right hand gloves.

Likewise, you can have one DOMINANT CONFLICT - to illustrate the dominant
theme - and up to three minor conflicts (one for each of the minor
characters living minor themes).

Each CONFLICT drives a plot.  So you can have one DOMINANT PLOT THREAD
supported by up to three sub-plots, each driven by a conflict derived from a
particular theme.

Likewise, you can have ONE MAJOR setting, and up to three minor ones -- a
"setting" isn't always a geographical location.  (For example, a ship's
bridge is in a ship and moves around geographically, but the bridge is a
setting.  Or the ship as a whole is a setting.)

In general, as with symphony construction, it's a good idea to have the
ENDING return to the setting (or some symbol of it) where the beginning
happened.

PLOT = a sequence of Events tightly linked in a "because-chain."  (this is a
Lichtenberg-original defn. I think)

STORY = a sequence of mental, emotional or psychological states of mind
linked in a because-chain.  (this is a Lichtenberg-original defn.)

Artistically, the PLOT and the STORY have to march hand in hand.  The
feelings that the characters feel have to happen because of the events in
the plot.  And the events in the plot have to happen because of the emotions
that the characters feel.  Break that relationship and you no longer have
ART -- but just a very realistic MESS.

The Plot and Story have Beginning, Middle, and End.

If you need a HAPPY ENDING, then the MIDDLE is the WORST MOMENT OF THE MAIN
POV CHARACTER'S LIFE.

If you need a SAD ENDING or TRAGIC ENDING, then the MIDDLE is the
HAPPIEST/BEST MOMENT OF THE MAIN POV CHARACTER'S LIFE.

In General, the PROTAGONIST experiences the WORST moment of his/her life at
the MIDDLE, while the ANTAGONIST at that same MIDDLE experiences the BEST
MOMENT OF HIS/HER LIFE.

Thus the typical sf/f novel is Heroic Fiction from the Hero's pov, and a
Tragedy from the Villain's pov.   I have always maintained that genre is
only a matter of point of view.

In either event, happy or sad ending, the BEGINNING is where the TWO
ELEMENTS THAT WILL CONFLICT TO GENERATE THE PLOT FIRST COME IN CONTACT.

And the END is the moment when that CONFLICT IS RESOLVED.

So you must know what your DOMINANT CONFLICT is, and you must know HOW IT
WILL RESOLVE (i.e. the Hero Wins -- everyone dies -- only the Villain
dies -- whatever).

If you are working with multiple points of view -- something I've done in
print but never really mastered -- you must always work from the Point of
View of the person who is on the POSITIVE POLE of the transaction in
progress at that point.  That is -- you work from the point of view of the
person whose DECISIONS AND ACTIONS MAKE A DIFFERENCE, the person who is
RESPONSIBLE, the person whose actions change things and who feels the
emotional weight of that responsibility.

If you do that, you will avoid the syndrom known as the "hung hero"  -- the
hero who is in jail and can't get out until someone comes to rescue him.
You stay with the pov of the rescuer until the rescue -- and then switch at
the moment when the rescued hero gets to DO SOMETHING that will make a
difference.

Think of a ping-pong match or tennis game, and the reader as sitting in the
bleechers watching the ball.  They eye follows the ball and focuses on the
person who is about to hit the ball.  The interesting person is the one who
has the POWER to change the COURSE OF THE BALL.  As soon as the ball has
been hit, the ball itself is interesting, and then the other player toward
whom that ball is hurtling becomes vitally interesting.

Never switch point of view in order to convey information that you can't
figure out any other way to TELL THE READER.  That will cause you to divert
attention from the "ball" and will only frustrate the reader, not inform
him.  If there really is no other way for the reader to learn something --
then they shouldn't know it.  That's a very hard lesson -- the reader
doesn't get to know everything the writer knows.  But still, the writer must
know everything (at least by the time the writer is doing the final draft
anyway.  Mostly, we write from the subconscious, so when first-drafting, we
really don't necessarily know what we're actually doing.  After that first
draft, though, one must use one's artistic training to shape the
composition.)

To learn to do this, I always recommend that new writers start with the
simplest structure and simplest composition.  Use one single Point of View,
One Protagonist, One Antagonist, One Theme, One Conflict, and ONE single
resolution.    And as few supporting players as you can possibly get away
with.

When you can write that novel structure literally in your sleep, then move
on to adding complexities.

But it really is very important for an artist in any medium to learn that
Less Is More -- that the highest impact compositions have the fewest lines
(like Japanese Brush Painting ; you can see the swan in three clean brush
strokes).  The most gorgeous gardens are likewise Rock Gardens with an
expanse of white sand and a single rock jutting up.

When you have that artform mastered, you gain the strength to be able to
control elements that would -- in the hands of an ordinary artist -- compete
with each other instead of complementing each other.  You gain the strength
to utilize clashing sounds to create music.