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lizvogelI think I've figured out a way to make the story of plot device D in location X work after all! It involves a contrivance, yes. But it's one medium-sized contrivance, rather than a dozen or so small contrivances working in concert. Oddly, this is more believable.
Readers expect odd things to happen occasionally in stories. After all, the very fact that it's a story worth telling means that something happens that's outside the norm of everyday life, because that's why people read stories, to get away from boring old everyday life. So let's say Joe needs to drive somewhere to get the plot moving, but he has no car and no money. If Joe wins a drawing for a new car, most readers will be willing to roll with that. Joe's allowed one hit of good luck, even if it's kind of a big one. If Joe's old college buddy unexpectedly arrives, having made a spontaneous road trip, and then gets the news that his mother's in the hospital, and has to fly home right away, and hands Joe his car keys and says "Use the car all you want", and incidentally the car has a full tank of gas because Joe's friend filled up at the station on the corner right before he arrived... well, now your average reader is looking a bit askance at how conveniently all this has fallen together. This despite the fact that many people have gone on road trips, or dropped in on a friend unannounced, or had a family emergency, or lent a car to a friend. I myself have stopped to fill the gas tank just before my destination, so I wouldn't have to deal with it first thing on the trip back. Whereas very few people have won brand new cars. Yet somehow, the thing the reader probably hasn't experienced is more believable than the things they have.
Partly this is simply a question of numbers; one piece of good luck will fly better than a dozen, regardless of relative size. But I wonder if some of it isn't also because the reader is familiar with those dozen small events. And that familiarity tells the reader -- unless they've got a lot better luck than I generally do, anyway! -- that things like that just don't happen when you really need them to. In real life, Joe's friend would show up a week after the crisis, or his mother would demand he drive home to help her move rather than being in the hospital. And the car's never full of gas when you really need to go somewhere right now.
But winning a car is far enough outside most people's experience that they don't have a subconscious calibration for whether it might happen at a convenient time. They're already suspending disbelief for that car to be there at all; as long as you don't stretch the rope too far, you can slip a little good timing into the noose alongside the car itself. And as long as the rest of what happens to Joe is believable, and especially if it's bad (bad luck being inherently more believable in stories (ETA link)), most readers will happily ignore how convenient that car was at the beginning; it's just a part of the scenario they signed up for.
Readers expect odd things to happen occasionally in stories. After all, the very fact that it's a story worth telling means that something happens that's outside the norm of everyday life, because that's why people read stories, to get away from boring old everyday life. So let's say Joe needs to drive somewhere to get the plot moving, but he has no car and no money. If Joe wins a drawing for a new car, most readers will be willing to roll with that. Joe's allowed one hit of good luck, even if it's kind of a big one. If Joe's old college buddy unexpectedly arrives, having made a spontaneous road trip, and then gets the news that his mother's in the hospital, and has to fly home right away, and hands Joe his car keys and says "Use the car all you want", and incidentally the car has a full tank of gas because Joe's friend filled up at the station on the corner right before he arrived... well, now your average reader is looking a bit askance at how conveniently all this has fallen together. This despite the fact that many people have gone on road trips, or dropped in on a friend unannounced, or had a family emergency, or lent a car to a friend. I myself have stopped to fill the gas tank just before my destination, so I wouldn't have to deal with it first thing on the trip back. Whereas very few people have won brand new cars. Yet somehow, the thing the reader probably hasn't experienced is more believable than the things they have.
Partly this is simply a question of numbers; one piece of good luck will fly better than a dozen, regardless of relative size. But I wonder if some of it isn't also because the reader is familiar with those dozen small events. And that familiarity tells the reader -- unless they've got a lot better luck than I generally do, anyway! -- that things like that just don't happen when you really need them to. In real life, Joe's friend would show up a week after the crisis, or his mother would demand he drive home to help her move rather than being in the hospital. And the car's never full of gas when you really need to go somewhere right now.
But winning a car is far enough outside most people's experience that they don't have a subconscious calibration for whether it might happen at a convenient time. They're already suspending disbelief for that car to be there at all; as long as you don't stretch the rope too far, you can slip a little good timing into the noose alongside the car itself. And as long as the rest of what happens to Joe is believable, and especially if it's bad (bad luck being inherently more believable in stories (ETA link)), most readers will happily ignore how convenient that car was at the beginning; it's just a part of the scenario they signed up for.
