It’s been said that there are only seven basic plots in the world, and that all storylines follow one or other of them. They are:
- Rags to Riches
- Overcoming the Monster
- The Quest
- Voyage and Return
- Comedy
- Tragedies
- Rebirth
Each, as you will see in the explanations and examples that follow, offers a reflection on life; a glimpse into what makes us human; a perception – sometimes wry, sometimes sad, sometimes good, sometimes bad – on the wonders of human nature and behaviour; the courage and cowardice, endeavour and despair, honour and betrayal – all the elements of mind and emotion that make life the fascinating journey that it is.
1. BEST KNOWN: THE RAGS TO RICHES STORY
Perhaps the best known of the seven plotsis the Rags to Riches story. This, after all, is the basis of many of our favourite nursery rhymes, fairystories and romances: Cinderella, and Jack and the Beanstalk, for instance. In one the despised and downtrodden youngest sister gets her Prince Charming; in the other, the poverty-stricken Jack and his mother procure the goose that lays the golden egg. These Rags to Riches stories, like many of their kind, are centuries old.
Travelling further back in time, another rich source of stories is the Bible. One particular Old Testament tale, which I’ve used on many occasions to illustrate various aspects of story-telling,is that of a widow and a jug of oil. It depicts a woman – a mother – newly bereaved and fallen on hard times. Saddled with debt and threatened with the loss of her son as collateral, she follows the advice of her dead husband’s colleague. Borrowing flagons from her neighbours, she fills them with oil, which she then sells to pay off her debts. That, in itself, fulfils the Rags to Riches plot. However, the flow of oil is miraculously unending! And with her debts repaid, she finds she has more than enough to live on.
This story has trust as its theme: confidence in a person, which translates into action – the belief that doing something seemingly impossible, will redeem a seemingly unsolvable problem.
For a classic tale of a family whose fortunes have gone from Rags to Riches (and back again for some of them) we need look no further than Charles Dickens’ novelLittle Dorrit. A satire on the shortcomings of the government and society of the time, it shows the unremitting poverty of those whose circumstances have taken a bad turn. Because of her father’s history, the main character, Amy, has lived in a Victorian debtors’ prison from birth. Yet her kindness and humility make her a much-loved contender for a reversal of fortune which, in the Rags to Riches tradition, she eventually experiences.
The modern equivalent, the film Pretty Woman, starring Julia Roberts, is a typical, if amoral portrayal. A poor student, who becomes a prostitute to fundthe education that is to improve her lot in life,she ultimately gets her man – and his millions!
2. OVERCOMING THE MONSTER
Sometimes, stories interweave more than one of the seven plot lines. Hence in Jack and the Beanstalk, above, the main plot may be a Rags to Riches story, but in accomplishing its denouement, it takes in the basic plot of Overcoming the Monster. Quite literally, the giant has to be slain before the golden egg-laying goose becomes Jack’s.
Overcoming the Monster in this case is literal and physical. There are, however, other ways of overcoming the monster, as in Oscar Wilde’s classical story The Selfish Giant. This was one of my favourite childhood bedtime stories, and is still guaranteed to bring tears to my eyes.
Refusing access to the underprivileged children who had played in his garden during his absence, the selfish giantrebuilds the fallen section of wall by which they had entered, and erectsa notice declaring that ‘Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted’. Summer, which had previously blossomed in his garden whilst the children were present, isnow replaced by unending winter. Desolation and despair descend upon the giant - but he is unable to see that he has brought this situation upon himself.
Until, one day, the birds and blossomreturn, brought by the children who have crept in through a hole in the wall. Only in one corner of the garden, winter remains. Softly, the giant hastens from his castle and there discovers a tiny child crying beneath a tree,which is still shrouded in frost and snow. Try as he might, the child cannot climb the tree.
Winter returns as the terrified children flee from the garden, leaving only the giant and the little boy. The giant’s heart melts; he acknowledges his selfishness, knocks down the wall and lifts the child into the tree. “And the little boy stretched out his two arms and flung them round the Giant’s neck and kissed him.”
Years go by, the children and the seasons return, and the giant’s kindness and joy prevail. But the little boy is never seen again – until one winter’s day, when the giant is old and feeble, spring returns unseasonably to the far corner of the garden. Again, the giant hastens from his castle and finds the child once more. He draws closer, and his face grows red with anger.
“For on the palms of the child's hands were the prints of two nails, and the prints of two nails were on the little feet.
‘Who hath dared to wound thee?’cried the Giant.‘Tell me that I may slay him.’
‘Nay!’ answered the child; ‘but these are the wounds of Love.’
‘Who art thou?’ said the Giant, and a strange awe fell on him, and he knelt before the little child.
And the child smiled on the Giant, and said to him, ‘You let me play once in your garden, to-day you shall come with me to my garden, which is Paradise.’
And when the children ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant lying dead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms.
This is Overcoming the Monster at its best! Wilde is writing about the human condition of selfishness, and it is this, rather than the giant, himself, which is the monster to be overcome. The giant’s self-centredness is not conquered by violence, however. The child, stretching out “his two arms” and his “wounds of love”symbolise the love of Christ on the cross, giving his life for the wrongs of the world. But his sacrifice, alone, cannot slay the monster of human selfishness; the giant’s response - his repentance as he knocks down the walls of his garden - is required to complete the Overcoming of the Monster.
Twentieth Century Monsters
Cancer, child abuse, poverty and injustice are the real-life monsters of our day. The 1980’s film Cry Freedom, portrayed the monster of apartheid, and showed Steve Biko’s part in the ultimately successful attempts to slay it. The plots of many WW2 stories revolve around overcoming the monster of battle on land, sea and air; or imprisonment in POW camps.
And, of course, sometimes,Overcoming the Monster means no more than simply living with it; managing it; overcoming prejudice and fear. Marti Leimbach’s wonderful novel Daniel Isn’t Talking, tells the story of a woman determined to overcome - first the refusal of her husband to admit that there is something wrong with their son, and then the refusal of the doctors to see what she sees as anything other than neurosis on her part. The eventual discovery that Daniel is autistic is, of course, the ultimate monster to be overcome. And as the mother works through the difficulties she faces, the reader learns, movingly, of her own state of mind if faced with a similar situation.
3. THE QUEST
In my article What Makes A Story A PlotI pointed out that cause, conflict and consequences are crucial to turning a story into a plot. In the two basic plot lines we’ve examined above, it should be abundantly clear that these elements are present. But what about The Quest?
The Quest is the third of the seven plots, and may be described as:
- a mission
- an expedition
- a hunt
- or a search for something.
This may take the form of anjourney to find something lost – perhaps a search for the lost lands of Atlanta, a Will, or buried treasure. Alternatively, it may be a quest for the truth where, perhaps, an injustice has been done and only the uncovering of a lie or misconception will set things right.
I wrote, earlier, of Charles Dickens’ Little Dorrit, and suggested that the plot was based on people who had gone from Rags to Riches. However, I also pointed out that sometimes a story is based on two or more interwoven plots. Little Dorrit is such a tale. Because we see not only the Rags to Riches story, but also TheQuest.
Intent upon seeking the facts behind his father’s dying wish that he ‘put things right’, Arthur Clennam sets out on a road to discovery i.e. a mission, or a quest. Ultimately, that journey leads also to his own reversal of fortune – the Rags to Riches element.
The Quest may also be seen in at least two of the sub-plots. One of these involves Clennam’s partner,who has submitted some of his inventions for patenting to the notoriously, and aptly, named Circumlocution Office. His application goes round and round, from department to department, in an endless and tortuous circle of ‘appraisal’. His quest is, therefore, to secure the patents so that he can market his inventions and make some money! The other sub-plot in which The Quest may be seen, is in John Chivery’s unrequitedpursuitof Amy Dorrit’s love.
The Quest For Truth
The plot of my own novel, A Painful Post Mortem, is an apt example of The Quest for truth. In the following excerpt, Claire comes – but only gradually – to a realisation of her quest to uncover the events that have led to the death of her daughter. Here, she has just taken a telephone call from her ex-husband, Mark, from whom she has received a copy of the Pathology Report.
‘WELL, DID YOU get it?’
There’s no preliminary, no small-talk to lead into conversation with Mark! As always, I have to stifle my frustration; to do otherwise would only provoke dissension.
Rising from the breakfast table, I link the flex through my fingers, take a step to the window to steady my emotions. The dining room faces south, away from the canal, towards the unseen bow of the Thames. Below me is the empty expanse of the adjoining building plot, razed to the ground decades earlier and left that way because of some ownership dispute or other. But, as I often say to Richard, someone else’s loss is our gain. To the left, way, way in the distance, across the low-level sky-line of older buildings, a glimpse of the lower reaches of the river and the unmistakable monolith of CanaryWharf are clearly visible.
I draw air deep into my lungs to still the nervous pounding of my heart, a physical manifestation of the inner turmoil that seems, always, to accompany any encounter with Mark.
‘Yes,’ I reply.
‘And?’ Mark’s voice is brusque.
‘Thanks for sending it,’ I say, in an attempt to mollify him.
‘Is that all?’ he demands.
‘I – I’m sorry, Mark?’
‘Have you read it?
‘Yes.’
‘And?’
‘And,’ I respond, slowly, clarification firing my voice as I go on, ‘I’m not having it!’
Mark swears. ‘Why do you have to be so ruddy aggressive all the time?’
‘That’s rich!’ My fists clench.
I wince, annoyed with myself; flex my fingers in an attempt to dissipate my defensiveness.
‘Have you read it?’ I ask, more patiently. ‘Bottom of page one. Second line. A known drug addict, it says.’
My voice falters and my eyes sting with unshed tears. ‘She wasn’t, Mark! They’ll write her off at the Inquest as just that: a junkie. An open and shut case. Not worth the time or money –’ My tears are falling freely now, and a sob catches in my throat.
‘Don’t, Luney. Don’t cry.’
The old intimacy takes me by surprise. Mark’s private nickname for me: Luney, pronounced loony, a silly malapropism derived from his interpretation of the poem auclair de la lune (Oh Claire de la loony-bin!) that appeals as much to his embarrassment in showing affection as to his penchant for derogatory humour. He hasn’t called me that for years.
I draw myself up; hold myself stiff so as to withstand the debilitating effects of the breach in my emotions.
‘I don’t know about you,’ I say, my tone of voice and choice of words deliberately formal and distancing, ‘but I can’t let that be the last word on Katya’s life. I have to do whatever I can to refute that allegation. To erase the slur on her memory.’
At the other end of the line, Mark clears his throat.
‘Are you sure – she wasn’t – using drugs?’
‘Quite sure.’
‘Even though it says – ’
‘Whatever it says. It’s wrong. Categorically!’
‘Then I agree. It can’t be allowed to stand. Clearing her name is the only thing – the last thing we can do to help her.’
Rigid behind my shell of self-preservation, I lean my forehead against the window pane. Down below, on the derelict building site, a stray Canada Goose – one of many that populate the canal – leads her family of fluffy goslings towards the chain-mesh perimeter fence. She picks her way carefully across the uneven ground, waddling extravagantly from side to side, head held high, seemingly oblivious to the plight of her offspring who, downy and, therefore, flightless, half-flutter and stumble in their comical attempt to keep up.
Involuntarily, I draw a sharp intake of breath. From behind an abandoned supermarket trolley, a cat has appeared. It lies close to the ground, stealthy, steely-eyed in its observation of the little entourage. The race is on! Ambush seems certain. The perimeter fence lies only a few feet ahead of the avian procession, but progress is slow. The cat has the advantage of speed; the goose of strength and ferocity should they engage.
‘We could do it together –’ says Mark ‘– if that’s alright with you?’
His voice breaks, and my defensiveness with it. Down below, the goslings slip under the fence and the cat slinks away, disappointed.
I turn from the window. I feel, momentarily, a hint of hope. Perhaps Mark and I could work it through? Together! Perhaps, belatedly, we can behave as parents? Other thoughts crowd in: the years of futility, during which the children and I squandered our lives waiting on Mark while he indulged his fantasy of being the life and soul of the pub.
‘Daddy will be home soon, and then we’ll go to the park,’ I’d pledge. Or, ‘I know Daddy promised he’d take you to the pictures to see Bambi this Saturday, but he’s going to be away on business. Next week, perhaps . . .’
The darkness of evening would close in before Daddy’s arrival home deferred the trip to the park, and Bambi would be long gone from the local cinema before the latest series of business jaunts came to an end.
How reliable is Mark’s word now, I wonder? Has Katya’s death changed him in ways that her life – our marriage and divorce – have failed to do? There is no more guarantee, I imagine, than there has ever been. But whatever Mark chooses to do, I realise that this telephone conversation with him has brought clarity to my own thinking. For the first time since Katya’s death and Post Mortem, the path ahead is clear. I shall have to pay a second visit to Molvelly Abbey and Compass Quay to talk first hand with those who knew and befriended Katya. That, I feel sure, offers the only chance of learning who and what she met with in the days leading up to her death.
The sense of self-determination this insight imparts fills me with hope.
This ‘sense of self-determination’ which Claire identifies, forms the plot for all that follows. And this quest for the truth is also the theme. It is what drives her into an unlikely alliance with Mark which, in turn, provides the conflict that drives the plot.
Note, as an aside, the first piece of description, when Claire moves to the window to steady her nerves. This serves not only to inform the reader of the setting but, more importantly, it heightens tension in the reader by delaying the action. What’s more, the wasteland described is also symbolic of Claire’s and Mark’s marriage, and their daughter’s life and death; just as the little scene with the cat and the Canada geese is a figurative portrayal of the ‘cat and mouse’ relationship Mark and Claire now have. You can read more of this type of description in my articles Descriptive Writing Styles: Conveying A Sense Of Place, Person, Personality & Mood and How To Write Description In Novel: Describing Location.
4. VOYAGE & RETURN
Voyage and Return is the fourth of the seven basic plots, and frequently follows not simply a physical journey, but an inner voyage of overcoming something that was previously alien. Thus, faced with something outside your main character’s normal experience, he or she may find that they are challenged in the following areas: