What We Can Learn About Plot Writing From Thriller Series, Vigil

Plot is arguably one of the most important elements of fiction writing – from it stems, the characters, the mood, the pace. It sets the scene for the whole tone of a fiction novel, so it’s important to get it right. When you’re writing crime or thriller novels, it is absolutely key, and there are ways of raising the stakes to keep your reader hooked.

Here are a few that I noticed, while watching the BBCs recent new thriller, Vigil. If you haven’t seen it, you can watch it on catch-up. As a writer, it’s difficult not to consider plot, when watching high-tension drama on television and and in Film!

Put your characters in a challenging environment or physical danger.
Introduce vulnerabilities and character flaws.
Create secondary characters to add new tensions to the plot.
Allow tension to ebb and flow.
Create obstacles and conflict between characters.
Keep raising the stakes.
Make the viewer (reader) ask questions.
Create internal and external conflict.
Leave things unresolved until close to the end.
Remind the reader of the stakes.

The plot hinges on a Detective Chief Inspector Amy Silva (played by Suranne Jones). DCI Silva works for the Scottish Police Service and is sent to HMS Vigil, a Trident nuclear submarine, by helicopter for three days, at first, to investigate. Shortly after the mysterious disappearance of a Scottish fishing trawler, a member of the crew on Vigil is murdered, and DCI Silver has been sent to investigate. The series takes viewers on a journey into a world of submarine warfare and security threats.[Skip ahead to the next paragraph to avoid a plot spoiler] Having lost her husband in a car crash, where the car is submerged in water, Amy manages to rescue only her daughter. She suffers from flash-backs, depression and anxiety, for which she is taking medication.

Much like Carrie, in Homeland (a highly-skilled, but bipolar CIA operative), it’s this vulnerability that makes Silver so likeable and her achievements all the more impressive as the plot unfold (see no. 2 in raising the stakes). Finding character flaws and vulnerabilities draws the reader to the character. The human need to connect through vulnerability is best illustrated in Brené Brown’s TEDxHouston Talk, The Power of Vulnerability. In this twenty minute TED talk, she describes vulnerability as uncertainty, risk and emotional exposure, but says that vulnerability is not weakness; it’s our most accurate measure of courage. It’s this courage, despite character flaws and vulnerabilities, that makes the best protagonists so appealing and keeps viewers and readers hooked.

DCI Silver’s investigations, along with her team on land, create conflict between the police, the Royal Navy and MI5 (see no.5 in the list of raising the stakes). She is in a challenging physical environment (see no.1) in a confined space, away from her daughter, her normal routine and recent partner, DS Kirsten Longacre (Rose Leslie), leaving her conflicted.

While there were a few plot holes and inconsistencies in places, it was a gripping series, with tensions ramping up towards the end. The finale provided both the tension and resolution that viewers were hoping for, with some impressive redemptive qualities.

You can find out more about plot, tension and story arcs, from several of my other posts (links below):

Narrative Arc: Shaping Your Story (one of my most read post’s with almost 15,000 views)

Plot, Characters, Homeland, and What You Need to Achieve to Keep Readers Engaged

What we can learn from Beauty and the Beast About Plot, Tension and Obstacles

Narrative Arc: Shaping Your Story

What is a story arc and why is it important?

A story arc is the episodes within a storyline, the narrative structure of a book or a story (or a film, or TV series). It is the rise and fall of tension, as well as the pace and timbre of a plot. Shifts in the actions and behaviours of the characters, as they evolve and are changed by what happens to them, should force changes in tension.

Although an arc suggests a curve, most stories look more jagged. The image above is only one of the many examples of a story arc, with a fairly classic rise and fall of tension, and ending with a denouement, a resolution. Films often use a simplistic three act structure: Setup – Confrontation – Resolution. Short stories also have a story arc, unless you are Lydia Davis! Her short story, Children, is a mere two sentences.

The introduction draws the reader into a setting, the characters, their goal, and any potential. This is where the reader discovers what drives the protagonist and what might stand in their way.

A series of complications will often develop in the core of the text, leading to a crisis or a series of problems. Each of these crises may be temporarily resolved, but the narrative will eventually lead to a climax. There is a rise and fall of tension with each crisis, with an overall rise in tension as the reader approaches the climax.

The denouement ties up the loose ends and resolves the conflict. Tension, at this point, rapidly dissipates, leading towards the ending.

The three act structure was used by Aristotle and in Greek tragedy.

The importance of a story arc lies in the need for structure, however varied. Without it, the reader will meander through the book, invariably getting lost and will want to put the book down. As a writer, you need to hook the reader to keep them turning the pages. Structure is an area of writing that I try to focus on, as I naturally tend not to plan too much of the plot. It depends on your genre and crime thrillers will demand many more plot twists and much higher levels of tension than literary fiction, for example, but the story arc should be such that the reader’s emotions rise and fall throughout the narrative. Too much high tension, and the reader will run out of steam, too little tension and you will lose the reader all together.

I’ll leave you with a humorous video of Kurt Vonnegut on Cinderella and the shapes of stories. It’s highly exaggerated but worth watching.

Kurt Vonnegut on the Shapes of Stories

What Do Authors Have in Common with Orchestra Conductors?

The more I write, the more I am aware of the variety of elements involved in creating a compelling story. These elements are all individual parts but they have to be pulled together to work effectively. Alone, each part would sound musical, lyrical, but together they create a depth of sound which cannot be created alone.

I used to play the clarinet in various orchestras and jazz bands and, while I also enjoyed playing music alone, nothing matches the sound of an entire section, woodwind in my case, or a whole orchestra. Some sections alone sound fragmented, have you ever listened to a double bass playing an orchestra piece without the rest of the string section? Unless it’s a jazz improvisation it might sound staccatoed and uncomfortable.

When you create a book you look at the story arc, the balance of dialogue and narrative, points of view, pace, action, language. When you conduct an orchestra, you need to see the different sections: string, wind, brass and percussion. Within each section are the individual groups of instruments. In the strings you would hear the violins, violas, chellos, double basses, and so the list would go on with each of the other sections. The conductor needs to be able to hear each section and filter out the other sounds as well as to be able to hear the collective sound. He or she needs to pull the instruments in at the right time, control the tempo and the volume, and to be able to create an even balance.

In the same way an author needs to be able to look at the different sections of the book, and to hear the sounds and feel the rhythm of the story; to be able to create balance in pace and point of view, a balance between high emotion and lower points of tension, a balance between dialogue and narrative prose.

The threads within a story weave together in a similar way to the instruments within an orchestra. If anything sounds off it can run the risk of throwing the rest of the story off kilter. There is a delicate balance between the threads, requiring the skill of a competent author or conductor, and at different points in the story and the music there will be certain elements that will be louder and clearer, more dominant, while others subside. The balance can make or break the overall sound and quality.