We
watch dumbfounded as a heroine descends into a spooky cellar where there’s no
means of escape when she could just as easily have run through the front door
to her car.
Or
our heroine sees her fiancé kiss another woman and assumes he’s having an
affair without bothering to ask him if the cute chick might be his
cousin/sister/transvestite roommate.
Miscalculations,
mistakes, misunderstandings. All play key roles in creating the dramatic
situations, personal conflict, mystery and suspense that make for
thrill-a-minute movies or fast-paced reads. BUT it’s the author’s job to make
certain readers see a rationale for any action (or failure to act) that’s
totally off-the-wall. Fortunately, such rationales come in a variety of
flavors.
CLOSED-OFF
OPTIONS.
If you need your heroine to run into the woods in her bare feet or descend
those creaky stairs to the basement, show us that her decision is the only one
she can make due to circumstances beyond her control. Let her think of the best
solution to the danger she faces, then have her realize that option’s been
closed off. Have her test a window and find it’s nailed shut. Make her run to a
back door only to see a snarling pit bull on the porch. Allow her to phone for
help, only to discover her cell phone’s dead. (I might add here that the dead
battery and/or lost signal may now border on cliché. Perhaps it’s time for the
cell phone to fall in the toilet bowl?)
RISK-REWARD. Another approach
might have a heroine fully realize her course of action is filled with
frightening risks, yet believe a potential reward makes the risks worthwhile.
For example, a woman fleeing a killer might be a tad more inclined to whisk
away cobwebs to reach a dank cellar if she happens to recall that her
grandfather hid a shotgun and shells in the dungeon-like darkness.
SELF-SACRIFICE.
Sometimes
we do things that would be described as stupid—such as intentionally put
ourselves in the line of fire—in order to save a loved one. When this motive is
clear, the action becomes heroic rather than dumb.
PHOBIAS.
This
option has been popular for a LONG time and needs to be used judiciously. A
prime example is the fear of heights that prevents James Stewart from racing up
the tower stairs in the movie Vertigo. I’m none too fond of heights
myself (and neither is my heroine, Marley) but both of us can force ourselves
to soldier upward if we’re given sufficient reason—like a killer with a gun.
Nonetheless, a phobia that’s a well-developed part of a heroine’s personality
can give her a reason to choose what might otherwise be the greater of two
evils. For instance, someone with claustrophobia might choose to run rather
than hide in a tiny cupboard.
PRIOR
EXPERIENCE. A
heroine’s past experiences also can prompt her to react in less than logical
ways. A woman who divorced a cheating spouse who lied through his teeth about
an affair may be less likely to give a new fiancé a chance to explain an
innocent kiss.
TIME SHIFTS. The rapid
pace of technology makes it increasingly difficult for authors to create
situations in which heroines can’t simply let their fingers do the walking—with
smart phones, burglar alarms, stun guns, etc.—to escape danger. Time shifts
offer both high-tech and low-tech solutions to the problem. You can plunk your
heroine in an era before cell phones came on the scene (a la Sue Grafton) or
you can set your heroine in an apocalyptic future where technology has been
wiped out. Then there’s also the
high-tech alternative—create a future world in which your heroine and villains
have weapons and defense options undreamed of today.
I’ve only touched on a
few of the rationales authors can tap to help readers suspend disbelief.
However, I believe an author’s best bet to avoid TSTL (too-stupid-to-live)
traps is to have some beady-eyed critique partners read your manuscript. I know
my crit partners always call me on the carpet when I allow my heroine or hero
to venture into bozo land.
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