Now, a plot is much like a drama, and should have a beginning, a middle, and an end; answering roughly to premiss, argument, and conclusion. There is no better training in plot-study than the reading of such a book as Professor Moulton's "Shakespeare as a Dramatic Artist," in which the author, with rare critical skill, exhibits the construction of plots that are an object of never-ceasing wonder. I will dare to reiterate what I have said before. Take your stand at the end of the story, and work it out backwards. For an excellent illustration see Edgar Allan Poe's account of how he came to write "The Raven" ([Appendix I.]). Perhaps you object to this kind of literary dissection? You think it spoils the effect of a work of art to be too familiar with its physiology? I do not grant these points; but even if they are true, that is no reason why you yourself should be offended by the sight of ropes and pulleys behind the scenes. No; work out the details from the end, and not from the beginning. No character and no action should find a place if it contributes nothing towards the dénouement.
Characters first: Plot afterwards
It must not be supposed that a plot always comes first in the constructing of a novel. Very often the characters suggest themselves long before the story is even vaguely outlined. Nor is there any reason why such a story should be any worse because it did not originate in the usual way. In fact, the probabilities are that it will be all the better, on account of its stress upon character, and the reaction of various characters on each other. I imagine "Jude the Obscure" grew in this fashion. There is no very striking plot in the book; at any rate not the plot we have in mind when we think of "The Moonstone." But if plot means the inevitable evolution of certain men and women in given circumstances, then there is plot of a high order. In the usual acceptation of the term, however, "Jude the Obscure" is a novel of character; and most probably Jude existed as a creature of imagination months before it was ever thought he would go to Oxford, or have an adventure with Sue. To many men, doubtless, there is far more fascination in conceiving a group of characters in which there are two or three supreme figures, and then setting to work to discover a narrative which will give them the freest action, than in toiling over the bare idea, the subsequent plot, followed by a series of actors and actresses who work out the dénouement. Should you belong to this number, do not hesitate to act accordingly. Nothing wooden in style or method finds a place in these pages, and since some of the finest creations have arisen in the order indicated at the head of this section, perhaps you are to be congratulated that the work before you will be a living growth rather than a mechanical contrivance.
The Natural Background
Since your story will presumably be located somewhere on this planet, the next thing to do is to obtain a thorough knowledge of the places where your characters will display themselves. If the scenes are laid in a district which you know by heart, you are not likely to go astray; but more often than not, the scenes are largely imaginative, especially in reference to smaller items such as roads, rivers, trees, and woods. The best plan is to follow the example of Thomas Hardy, and draw a map—both geographical and topographical—of the country and the towns in which your hero and heroine, and subordinate characters, will appear for the interest of the reader. That individual does not care to be puzzled with semi-miraculous transmittances through space. I read a novel some time ago, where on one page the heroine was busy shopping in London, and on the next page was—an hour afterwards—quietly having tea with her beloved somewhere in the Midlands. But the drawing of a map, and using it closely, will not merely render such negative assistance as to avoid mistakes of this kind, it will act positively as a stimulus to creative suggestion. You can follow the lover's jealous rival along the road that leads to the meeting-place with increased imaginative power. That measure of realism which makes the ideal both possible and interesting will come all the more easily, because the map aids you in following the movements of your characters; in fact, if you take this second step with serious resolution, it will go far to add that piquant something which renders your story a series of life-like happenings. The result will be equally beneficial to the reader. It may be a moot question as to how far the map in Stevenson's "Treasure Island" deepens the interest of those who read this exciting story, but in my humble opinion it adds an actuality to the events which is most convincing. Mr Maurice Hewlett has followed suit in his "Forest Lovers." I do not say publish your map, but draw one and use it. A poor story accompanied by a good map would be too ridiculous; so you had better give all your attention to the narrative, and leave the publication of maps until later days.
FOOTNOTES:
[33:A] "Hints to Novelists," in To-Day, May 8, 1897.
[35:A] Fortnightly Review, vol. lvii. N.S. p. 187.
[43:A] Besant, "On the Writing of Novels," Atalanta, vol i. p. 372.