Tips Writing Life

Avoiding the Arbitrary (Part I): Beginnings and Endings

This month, I’m talking all about Aristotle’s 8 Rules of storytelling from his masterwork on dramatic writing, the Poetics. The Poetics is the LBD of writing principles: simple, elegant, and timeless.

You can read my take on why writers working in any medium should study this text over on the Stage32 blog here, but I wanted to dig deeper into this material, because the text is quite literally a goldmine!

There are two major cautions against arbitrariness in Aristotle’s Rules. (By the way, did you grab your free one-page desk reference yet? Head here if you don’t have your copy!)

Rule 5a: “Well-constructed plots should neither begin nor end at an arbitrary point.”

Rule 6b: Characters should do and say what is necessary or probable.

Today, I’m focused on the first of these principles. Let’s explore what he means by “arbitrary” and then I’ll give you three ways to make sure your beginning and ending pass this test.

What does “arbitrary” mean, anyway?

Aristotle’s counsel about arbitrariness comes right in the middle of two crucial moments in the Poetics: his incredible explanation of the power of plot and his description of narrative beauty.

First, he defines what he means by the terms “beginning”, “middle”, and “ending”:

Beginning: “that which does not itself follow necessarily from something else, but after which a further event or process naturally occurs.”

Middle: “that which both follows a preceding event and has further consequences.”

Ending: “that which itself naturally occurs, whether necessarily or usually, after a preceding event but need not be followed by anything else.”

Aristotle. Poetics. Trans. by Doreen C. Innes. Loeb Classical Library edition.
Think of plot like a bridge…

After these definitions, he makes this observation about beauty:

a beautiful object, whether an animal or anything else with a structure of parts, should have not only its parts ordered but also an appropriate magnitude: beauty consists in magnitude and order…

He concludes by saying that the most beautiful plot will best fit its material: it’s just long enough to allow for transformation to occur through a necessary or probable sequence of events. In a word: it’s proportional.

So now that we understand the context, the meaning of “arbitrary” becomes clear: it’s disconnected from the necessary events of the story.

So…putting it all together:

  • The optimal beginning of a story is the one that sets up best for the sequence of events that must take place for the transformation to occur.
  • The successful ending is the one that follows naturally (and almost inexorably) from that sequence and which offers a sense of closure to the events.

So how can you make sure that your beginnings and endings work properly? Here are three tips to help you nail these critical moments.

Tip #1: Be a plotter.

This one might make me some enemies…but let’s junk the pantser/plotter dichotomy for a second.

Know where you’re headed before you start the journey!

Being a plotter doesn’t mean that you craft an outline and then worship it as a god for the rest of the project. I personally believe that the best writing process blends a healthy dose of prewriting and a creative flow that taps fully into the process of emergence.

Take time to lay out the major elements you need for your premise statement. If you’re not sure what those are, I highly recommend this interview with Larry Brooks on The Creative Penn Podcast.

Once you have these elements roughly in mind, you need a rough idea of the middle build. Remember, the beginning and the ending set up and resolve this progression of necessary events, so you need a working sense of the narrative weave to do this effectively.

Tip #2: Write nonlinearly.

This follows from #1. If you have a rough sketch of the whole story, you can jump into the writing at any point. We have a natural tendency to want to start where the blinky cursor puts us: at the beginning.

Ready to begin?

But this is largely ineffective. As the great medieval writers knew well, prologues (and beginnings generally) were written last, even though they’re intended to be read first. The reason for this is simple: you usually don’t know how to set up what you’re saying until you’ve said it.

Your first 10 pages has to carry a lot of weight. The whole setup of your world, character, and story needs to take place in these initial pages. And if they don’t work, there’s no chance a busy reader will give the rest of the story a chance. (Want some help supercharging your first 10 pages? I have a FREE 3-day rewrite class that’s designed to do exactly that!)

The advantage of waiting to write these crucial pages until later in the process is that you know with fair certainty what elements need to be established — and that’s the surest guarantee against an arbitrary beginning.

If you’re going to write nonlinearly, you have to have some kind of working outline. I recommend using the beat board function in Final Draft or the notecard feature in Scrivener (my two favorite writing software programs) to lay out your story. Or you can go old school and use notecards, highlighters and pens! Whatever works for you!

BONUS TIP: Writing scenes you’re passionate about instead of just plodding through whatever “comes next” will boost your productivity.

If you really want to level up your nonlinear game, get a working outline together and then start by writing the ending first. This is really challenging, but there’s no better or more efficient way to establish everything that needs to be set up and paid off.

Tip #3: Target Your Rewrites.

Use this rule about beginnings and endings to evaluate your draft after it’s done. Do you pay off everything you set up in the beginning? Does your character undergo a believable transformation that allows them to defeat the antagonist? Does the ending flow from the progression of events so that there’s a sense that the story couldn’t end any other way?

If you find that your opening and/or the ending aren’t doing the heavy lifting in any of these areas, then you can target your rewrites to address those issues.

That’s the beautiful thing about Aristotle’s rulebook: it can be used not just as a guide before you begin, but also as a tool to evaluate your work when you’re finished.

Next time, we’ll explore the second caution against arbitrariness: character dialogue and action.

Happy writing!

Shannon

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