Start Your #$%@! Quest, We're Going on an Adventure!
By Wulf Moon
In my Illustrated Super Secrets of Writing, Volume 1 workbook, I have a chapter titled, "How Driving to the Story Creates Accidents." I teach a workshop at conventions covering this information as well. It's that important. Failure to launch is a critical issue I note in manuscripts I edit for clients. Emerging writers in particular get bogged down in the setup and forget that the reader desperately wants us to get to the story.
So do the editors. You know, those squinty-eyed prospectors just praying to find a golden story from start to finish in their gravel-filled pans.
Surprise! Almost every manuscript I see by writers in the early stage of their apprenticeship fails to launch. What do I mean by this? They spend too much time running around the launching pad making sure they show the reader everything related to their rocket has been correctly installed, and they've got all their engineering blueprints and diagrams and math equations on display in the text to prove it!
If they're a fantasy writer, they'll show us every merlon and crenel in the castle they’ve designed and take us on a tour from dungeon to donjon. Or worse, they'll spend days marching an entourage to their castle where we find out--surprise!--their waif is really a princess, and this is her long-lost home.
Two major violations in that last bit: (1) readers hate it when writers withhold vital information from them (writers think it creates mystery, but all it creates is aggravation), and (2) readers hate it when writers drive to the story. A little setup is necessary, readers know this, but they want you to get to the point--which is the plot of the story where all the action happens--as soon as is reasonably possible.
In short, readers want to go on an adventure. They don’t want to read a Chilton’s manual on your rocket engine. They don’t want your hero’s lineage all the way back to Adam. And, unless they’re hobbitses, readers don’t care what your hero had for breakfast, second breakfast, elevenses, lunch, afternoon tea, dinner, and supper.
Let me ask you. When you go on a road trip, what's the fun part? Making all your lists, getting all your clothes and gear packed, meticulously checking each item off and then carrying all that heavy luggage to the car? Rather, isn't it the part where you've finally loaded it all up and you've checked your map for your first stop and are about to hit the road? Isn't that where the journey truly begins? Because, at last, you're moving. You're finally out of the house and going on an adventure.
Just like those caravans in Westerns, stories need momentum. There's only so much patience you have as characters are introduced and wagons are hitched up--they've got to get moving. True, the load 'em up part is necessary so we know where the story begins and who are these characters going on the journey, but the sooner we hear the leader shout "Move 'em out!" the better. We're supposed to be going on an adventure. Reading all the details of how to stock a chuckwagon gets tedious quickly, even if it's authentic, even if it's for the Donner party.
In Joseph Campbell's Hero's Journey story model, Crossing the First Threshold is where the story truly begins. The Ordinary World where the hero lives (your starting line) has been established, the problem in the form of the Call to Adventure (the Inciting Incident) has taken place, and after a couple of other items are accomplished in that model, the hero commits to the adventure and steps across the threshold from their normal world into the unknown world, what I call the Quest World. That's where the adventure begins.
Here's a good example. I bet you've watched Star Trek: The Next Generation episodes. Or maybe even the subsequent series, Picard. When those original TNG episodes started, do you remember how quickly the writers opened with just another day in the life of the Enterprise, only to have the ship's mission interrupted by an incident that would take them off course and into the unknown where trouble surely awaited? It was fast, because they had to get the crew across the threshold so they could cut to commercials to pay for the show.
Those Starfleet officers would scramble to come up with a plan, Captain Picard would make the final call, and then he'd drop his hand with a finger pointing toward the unknown and say that one word every fan thrilled to hear: Engage. I still get goosebumps when I hear him say that, and I bet you do, too. Why?
Because that's where the adventure truly begins.
So here's the Secret to get your story off to the fastest start possible, while still covering the necessities to establish your story's baseline: who your protagonist is, where this story is taking place, and why we should care. Figure out when that combat boot--the Inciting Incident--drops into the normal life of your protagonist. When does the genesis of the story problem raise its ugly head, doing its darnedest to keep your protagonist from getting their heart's desire (or tries to take it from them)? Got it? Take your time, this is important.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock …. (Playing a little Jeopardy music for you here.)
Got it? Good. Now back up a little and give us a brief picture of your protagonist and their normal life and what's most important to them just before this event occurs. No "driving to the story." Toss away that beginner's wake up scene and get your hero out the door and on to their adventure. Cut all that rocket propulsion research you did out—we’ve watched enough launches now to know that the pointy end goes up. A wave from our heroes, ignition, big baddah boom, and we’re off to the stars!
Start your #$%@! quest, we're on the clock! Load ‘em up. Move ‘em out! We’re going on an adventure!
*This article modified from a chapter first published in How to Write a Howling Good Story by Wulf Moon, copyright 2023 by Wulf Moon Enterprises. All Rights Reserved.
