The plot is the series of events, the twists and turns, if you will, that make up a story. Though there are an infinite number of twists you can give a plot line, there are only so many plots; according to Georges Polti, 36 (he wrote a book illustrating them, giving examples from classical literature; e.g. man sacrifices everything to his ambition and comes to a bad end: Macbeth (this could also apply to Mrs. Macbeth, and perhaps more so, since she pushes her husband into killing the King).

This is really therefore not so much a list of plot lines I've seen too much of in the recent past at Worlds of Fantasy and Horror, as situations that I've seen too much of. As anyone who reads the unsolicited manuscripts (what is termed the slush pile, though it would perhaps be better to consider it a mound of ore with nuggets sprinkled through it -- somewhere) that come into a fiction magazine will realize, there are some storylines that come in with distressing regularity.

Remember, there is nothing wrong with using these storylines and subjects, and indeed they can be used to spin extremely effective, dynamic yarns. However, if you are going to use them, you must be original! In other words, give them new twists, new spins that will catch the editor's eye, make her sit up and say, "Wow!" She'll love you for it and buy the story. If, you don't do this, she won't.

The magazine I work for, Worlds of Fantasy and Horror, is, as its name implies, devoted to fantastic literature. Some of the plot lines we see will never make it to the New Yorker (nor will what the New Yorker gets come to us). However, some situations may be similar. So, keeping that in mind, this is what I have seen too much of lately:

• The Revelation of Wonder: A starry-eyed story in which the protagonist and all the other characters exist merely to reveal a wonderful thing, and show how wonderful it is. For example, some wizard develops a new spell that vanquishes old age, and does away with teenage drunken driving besides. If the story has nothing else other than the wizard developing the spell and casting it, and there is no character development of any sort, we have the revelation of wonder.
  
  
• The Revelation of Horror: The opposite of the above; a story in which the characters exist merely to reveal the existence of an Unthinkable Horror, which eats them by the end (if they're lucky). The prototype of this is the Thing in the Closet, though many attempts at imitating Lovecraft also stumble into this category. Again, there's no real character development; the characters merely exist to be done in.
  
  
• The Scientific Revelation: Science fiction here, not fantasy. The characters exist to reveal the existence of some technological marvel, whose effects can be either good or bad. These were very common in the pulp fiction of the Golden Age, and they still happen. However, unless they're well done, with a very light touch, they feel dated remarkably fast.
  

Some observations about points one, two and three: these can be considered incomplete. The author has had a great idea and presents it without thinking it through. Remember, readers read fiction (especially escape fiction) to see characters get into trouble, and then see how they out of it, or watch them go down swinging. So it's not enough that you have the great idea: What are its implications? And, more importantly, what are its effects on the characters? What do they learn as they battle the negative, or are enlightened by the positive? How does the experience change them? Answer these questions, and you have a story, rather than a Revelation.

• The Biter Bitten: Horror, though this is common in mystery fiction as well. A thoroughly nasty individual who spends the entire story showing us what an unspeakable slug he is, and comes to a well deserved bad end in the last paragraph. This is a storyline that does get printed fairly often, because it gives a certain amount of satisfaction (after all, one of the sad truths of real life is that cruel nasty people often do very well, and it's nice to see them punished, if only in fiction). However, a story in which a bad person's getting his just desserts is all that happens really isn't that satisfying; it leaves the reader with nothing to think about afterwards.
  
  
• The Wallow in Woe: Horror again. A story in which all the characters (frequently teenagers, for some reason) mope about feeling sorry for themselves, or are absolutely dastardly; they may come to a bad end, or they may get nothing done. The general thrust is that the world is an unspeakably horrible place where all is unfair (paranoia, anyone?). We know all this, and we read fiction to get away from it all. So remember, complain to your psychiatrist, not your computer monitor. After all, you're paying her to listen, and we're not going to pay you to be told.
  
  
• The Vampire Story: In the past six months, I have seen literally hundreds of vampire stories. Three were radically different, new ideas that happened to involve vampires, and we bought two of them (the third we turned down with considerable regret, because we were overstocked). The rest were almost all the same: vampires with a horror of garlic and crosses, most of whom chase after slinky ladies (or macho men), and start to smoke at dawn. If you're going to do a vampire story, be original! Think for a long time, and try some angle that hasn't been done yet. It's not easy, but the three stories we liked prove it can be done. (A quick note: homosexual vampires are not new - Carmilla seduced her victims more than a century ago.)
  
  
• The Werewolf Story: Werewolves, perhaps because they're anything but ethereal, attract less attention than vampires. However, we get lots of them, many of which involve the person who becomes a werewolf extracting her revenge upon those who done her wrong, often with a fair amount of gratuitous violence. Again, be original! If Tanith Lee can find a unique angle, so can you.
  
  
• The Tomato Surprise: Not a plot line per se, but a story in which the author withholds information crucial to the resolution of the story until the very end, then springs it upon the reader. This is more common in mystery fiction than fantasy, but we do see it fairly often. It leaves the reader feeling cheated; especially in crime fiction, where half the fun is figuring out who done it before the author.
  
  
• The Descent into Madness: a story in which all the fantastic elements revolve around the point of view character's going or being mad as a March hare. This is immensely frustrating, because in the final analysis there's no way to tell if the fantastic elements are really there, or if they're merely a figment of the deranged character's imagination. What would "A picture of Dorian Grey" be like if in the end we discovered that Dorian just thought the picture was showing the effects of his vices, and he was really going to ruin all along?
  
• The Rollicking Good Romp: Fantasy this, a rollicking journey from here to there with lots of action, that the characters emerge from looking exactly as they did when they started. No character growth, no development, and nothing learned (some of the TV fantasy series follow this pattern, as does Star Trek). What have the characters learned? How have they changed? Frodo emerges immensely changed from his journey into Mordor, and nobody will say that Conan the Barbarian King is the same young lad who emerged from the wastes so many years previously - he's learned a lot during his rise.

Well, these are some of the things I have seen too much off recently; another editor could doubtless suggest others. Remember, the important thing is to be original. Don't do something because everyone else is doing it, or if you feel the need to, give it a new twist. Surprise us!

Editors like surprises.

© Kyle Phillips, 1996. Like what you read? Find out more about me.

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