Storytelling for Pantsers by Annalisa Parent

Author:Annalisa Parent [Parent, Annalisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: WRITING
ISBN: 9781947482012
Publisher: Laurel Elite Books
Published: 2017-09-15T04:00:00+00:00

Pattern Disrupt

Stories happen not because of situation normal (BO-RING!), but because something comes and interrupts situation normal. This “something” is the inciting incident. I like to call it the “and then.” (Drawl it out like a drama queen for full effect, and you’ll see what I’m getting at here.)

The “And Then” has to be big; it has to interrupt the pattern this person (your character) has been living for a long time.

Does the character get fed up with situation normal?

Or, in the classic hero’s journey, is he called to the quest?

Does something new come into his or her life to interrupt the pattern?

Whatever it is, we need something to interrupt what’s been going on.

The inciting incident is the kind of thing that disrupts our lives. Consider this:

My name is Emma and I guess I’m like most teens. Some days I hate my mom. (Who thinks yoga pants are cool? So gross.) Some days Mom’s my best friend. (The day Brad dumped me to go to the prom with Loose Lips Lucy and Mom bought me the beautiful beaded dress and took me to Chez Olivier? Well, Mom wasn’t so bad that day.)

But lately Mom has been acting strange. (Even stranger than most moms, which is saying something.) It’s not anything I can put my finger on. Well, there was the Mug Incident, when she dropped that mug in the sink and then broke into tears when it shattered. That was something.

It’s like she’s extra nervous or something. I don’t know. It’s just weird and I want things to go back to normal—if you can call anything about our life normal.

I am the only one in my class who not only isn’t Catholic—in an all girls’ Catholic school—but I’m the only one with a single mom. As if that doesn’t make me weird enough, she’s a single mom by choice. I’ve never even met my dad—and Mom doesn’t talk about it.

Whatever. We’re supposed to go out to dinner tonight and I am so not into it, with the way Mom’s been behaving lately. Besides, she made a reservation at Chez Olivier. It’s not even a special occasion. It’s a Wednesday, for Pete’s sake.

I know there’s no way out, so I head downstairs to get in the car. I’ll just jet as early as I can and play some hoops with Beth and Charlie.

—

Dinner is an absolute nightmare.

If Mom’s had the jitters for the last two weeks, tonight’s an encore performance. She’s dropped her fork so many times, the last time the waiter brought her a new one, he brought two. She’s spilled her water glass and soaked my dress. (I can’t leave at least until it dries because it looks like I’ve peed myself.) And she’s shaking so much, the glasses keep clinking.

If I weren’t enjoying the food so much, I would crawl under the table and hide. I cannot tell you how many times I have thanked my lucky stars that Chez Olivier is not the kind of place my friends frequent on a Wednesday night.

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