‘Fession Time. Did you do your homework? Come on, hands in the air, don’t be shy.

Just kidding! I don’t really expect you to drop what you’re reading just because I recommended a book. However, I hope you will add it to your TBR list and pick it up at some point. It really does have a lot to teach about how to craft a novel.

Last time, we talked about learning from books that are commercially successful even if the writing lags behind the storytelling. Today, I want to talk about a book where both the storytelling and the craft of writing are stellar: The Virgin of Small Plains by Nancy Pickard.

Small Plains is a book I couldn’t put down, not even on rereads. Sure, Pickard does a lot of things right. The characters are fascinating, and I can relate to them. Each scene is well constructed both to move forward and to push the reader into the next scene. She gives just enough information to tease your curiosity but leaves other questions unanswered until the end. Etc.

But she also breaks a lot of rules. She has a bunch of different POV characters, one of whom is a very minor character involved only in a subplot. She opens with a great scene already in action, but the next five chapters are technically backstory to the main conflict. And yet, it works splendidly.

Why? I keep rereading the book, trying to figure out exactly how she did it, but I get caught up in the story and forget I’m supposed to be analyzing the writing. Still, I think a lot of the power comes from Pickard’s scene structure, and the cause-and-effect lines that tie the scenes together.

I’ve written about one of the opening scenes in Small Plains before (Seriously, What Does She Want?).

Let’s analyze another scene, using the checklist from This Must Be Scene to be Believed. This is the first scene in the book (the scene I analyzed before is the earliest scene chronologically, but it’s Chapter 2 in the book). POV character Abby Reynolds is driving in a nasty snowstorm. She sees a woman in a bathrobe struggling through snowdrifts and recognizes her as the judge’s wife, who suffers from Alzheimer’s. Shocked, she steps on the break, and her truck begins to skid on the icy asphalt. All this takes place in the first paragraph, and the rest of the scene is slow-motion.

Here’s the checklist:

1. Can you tell where one scene ends, and another begins? Yes. It helps that Pickard uses chapter breaks or *** between each.
2. Does it have only one point-of-view character, from beginning to end? Yes, the scene is clearly in Abby’s POV.
3. What event earlier in the book set things in motion, so this scene would occur? This question brings up a very interesting technique Pickard uses: the event that sets this scene in motion is VERY clear, but the reader doesn’t learn it until the end of the book. I won’t spoil it for you.
4. What does the POV character want? Abby has one goal, stated clearly: she wants to warn the judge that his wife is wandering in the snow. Because her truck is skidding, she has a very short and clear deadline. She has to make a call on her cell phone before impact, or she may be unable to do so. Exciting, no?!
5. What keeps your character from reaching her goal? The skidding truck, and when she finally gets her cell phone and dials, she only gets voice mail.
6. Does your character get what she wants at the end of the scene? No.
7. What event will happen later specifically because the events in this scene took place? I can’t answer this one without spoiling the book for you, but suffice to say, an entire chain of events springs from Abby’s failure to make the call.

As you can see, Pickard follows scene structure to the letter, and this is true for every scene I examined. Every POV character goes into the scene wanting something, and it’s always clearly stated. And yet, as I’m reading through the book, I don’t think to myself, “Oh, right! There’s the character’s goal in this scene.” I can only see the structure when I go back and study one scene at a time.

Small Plains also does something else very well, so well, in fact, that über-agent Donald Maass has named the technique after this book. The Tornado Effect is an enormous event that takes place halfway through the book and shakes up everything. It doesn’t have to be related to the primary plot, but it should effect most or all of the main characters, certainly all the POV characters. No sagging middle can survive the Tornado Effect ripping through.

I’ve probably learned more from analyzing Virgin of Small Plains than any other book, but you can learn how to craft from studying any well-written piece of fiction. Of course, if Small Plains is typical, you might have to read it many times before you can keep yourself from getting swept into the story.

I’d love to hear which books have taught you the most about how to write. And what did you learn from them?

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Katrina Stonoff: Fiction for Women

Stone Soup Blog