Day 358: The Easy Way Out

There's a trap I find myself falling into all too often. It happens while writing new short stories. While editing my novel. Even while simply plotting out new stuff, not even writing in earnest yet. It's not just me who falls for it either. I see it in plenty of new writers like myself, but what's worse is I see it happen in mature studios too, people who should really know better by now. I saw it in a very popular novel I read, "The Fourth Wing," written by a veteran of more than a decade. It's not just a modern problem, because I've seen it in classics like "Dracula" too. It's rampant across TV and movies. Disney in particular seems to have it the worst. It's a terrible problem because it's really quite an insidious trap, one that takes constant vigilance to stave off. The results are always the same. Incoherent, or worse, pointless plot arcs. Inconsistent characters that no longer feel like legitimate people. Fan outrage at the bastardization of once beloved characters. Put simply, it's scourge on good writing. It happens when writers take the easy way out.

Taking the easy way out in writing is different from other crafts because the easy way out is actually something you have to keep in mind all the time too. An athlete can focus on nothing but the hard way, the path of most resistance, to achieve great things. Visual artists can tackle intricate pieces, extremely difficult from the very start without having to worry that they might stumble into cutting corners without realizing it. Most people in general can avoid taking the easy way out by simply paying proper attention to details, and refusing to take shortcuts. When you start to slip, it's immediately obvious. The quality declines, the mood all changes. Always doing things right is never easy, but at least it's simple. Not so in writing. When working on a story, the writer has to make sure that the easiest way out is precisely what ends up happening, most of the time. It means the writer has to keep in mind what they could do to make their job ten times as easy, every second that they spend on the story. It's more than just a constant temptation. It's the difference between putting the ice cream away in the fridge, and leaving it staring you in the face on your desk, slowly melting until it's no longer worth eating. Then, if you want to continue, you must go get more ice cream, fill the bowl back up, and watch it melt all over again.

How can this be? The problem stems from the separation between the writer and their characters. The characters will be looking for easy outs. The writer must make sure they don't get to have them. The difficult way out will be the most character building, or have the richest conflict, but it has to be the only option. Nobody is going to do something the hard way if they don't get something out of it. And if they do, that's called a plot hole. No writer wants their story to be full of holes, hence, tempting ice cream. Have your character take the easy out, and don't even bother to put obstacles in their way. It'll be more boring now, but at least their won't be any holes. And when the story really picks up fifty chapters in, that's when I'll earn my Pulitzer ... Of course, this won't work. The issue is, that ice cream will always be sitting there. And the more work you put into make a more interesting solution, the closer it will get to fully melted.

I think this requires an example to really sink in. Let's say a character needs to get to work on time as part of a larger story. The stakes are pretty high. They've been late a few times already, and now their job is on the line. The character is actively thinking about this on the way to their car before work, when, oops. Their battery is dead. Now the story really begins. The conflict is set, and the character has to solve it, or lose their job, which could throw off the rest of the story. This is just one piece of it. The writer has something bigger planned. They want this same character to eventually become CEO of the very company that's on the verge of firing their main character. The writer has taken the time to set up this hard situation, but it could be so hard that it throws off future plans. If the character doesn't make it to work on time, it will be much, much harder for the writer to achieve what they originally wanted. Here is where the traps lie in wait.

What if our character, let's call him Joe, does something simple, and asks his stay-at-home neighbor if he can borrow their car this morning? The neighbor gives him their car, and he goes off to work, barely making it on time. He keeps his job, and the overarching story may continue.

Isn't that convenient? In fact, doesn't it even feel a little pointless? And worse, maybe Joe has already demonstrated that he has terrible social anxiety, or maybe the neighbor has already demonstrated that they hate Joe. It doesn't fit with established character traits at all. It would be weird if this worked so well. Ah, so avoid this easy out, and now the outcome will be less contrived, right? Wrong. If the writer simply ignores this obvious solution, now it will seem like Joe is an idiot for not considering the possibility. Joe needs to become CEO later. Joe cannot be an idiot, or the same character problems occur in reverse.

The writer not only has to imagine the easy way out, they have to dodge the easy way out, while simultaneously having their character fantasize about taking the easy way out themselves, only to point out why it won't work. It's evil. Pure torture, I'm telling you.

Maybe one could salvage the situation by working in a subplot where Joe owes the neighbor a favor. This is hard work. Not easy at all. Fail to follow up properly, and the plot hole becomes even more egregious. All that's been done here is kick the can down the road, and unless the neighbor is supposed to play a part later, it could just be an unfired Chekhov's gun, hanging around in the back of everyone's mind. It's easier right now though, and isn't that what a shortcut always is?

How about we skip the neighbor entirely by having Joe remember how much the neighbor despises him? That solves the character issues, but now he's still stuck. Ok, he takes the bus then. How often have you taken a bus and ended up where you needed to be exactly on time as fast as a car could have gotten you there? I'm willing to bet the answer is never. Fail to address this, and now it seems like the writer has no idea how a bus system works. Now Joe isn't the idiot, I am. This cannot stand.

Maybe the solution needs to be even more drastic. What if Joe decides he has to steal a car? Hey, now that could make for a really interesting plot line. Poor Joe, so desperate to succeed that he ends up being investigated for auto theft while simultaneously trying to become CEO of a big company. It could work, but it'll be a huge hassle for the writer to integrate a new crime subplot just because they wanted add a little conflict by having Joe almost be late to work. It's so much extra it may even detract from the original intent of the story. It may surprise you but this too is an easy way out. A direct, but ill-considered solution to a relatively simple problem leads to a terribly incoherent story later on. It doesn't even look like the easy way out, does it? It's more work, in fact. But the like the neighbor owing him a favor, it's more work later.

So what to do? Well, the issue lies in the original easy out that the writer took before all this even began. Lazily generating meaningless conflict by having Joe be late for work for no good reason. A simple shortcut to draw the reader's interest threw the entire plot into shambles. The real solution is to focus on more important matters. If the story is about conflict at work, then introduce the conflict where the work is. Let Joe be late and deal with his boss. Let Joe get fired. Let Joe have to figure out how to get his job back, if this late-for-work plot is where the writer desperately wants to go. Or better yet, introduce more interesting (but more complex) conflict. This is hard work. The writer will likely have to create a bunch of characters, preexisting relationships, and workplace drama. It'll be so much harder to do that than to force Joe to deal with a straightforward problem like being late to work. But it won't be meaningless. These relationships will form the basis of the company that Joe rises through the ranks of. He will use the workplace drama to his favor to get what he wants. These characters will last through the whole story without even having to shoehorn them in, quite unlike that stay-at-home neighbor. In the end, it'll probably be much better writing to take the difficult path of establishing good characters immediately, rather than trying to grasp a reader with straightforward, yet inauthentic conflict. This is the insidious nature of the easy way out in writing. It's always lurking, even when you least expect it, even when you actually are working so dang hard. One slip up, and the rest of the story goes completely off the rails. But as long as it's kept at bay, the writing will always be better off without the easy way out.

Thank you for reading,

Benjamin Hawley