Plot vs. Character

A group of men crashes in the Sahara. The radio’s dead. They’re too far off course to be found. There’s a limited supply of food and barely enough water to last. Survival seems impossible. Then one man proposes something insane: build a new plane from the wreckage.

What follows isn’t just about survival. It’s a collision of ego, fear, intellect, and pride. It brings out the worst in each of them – and the best.

So why does a teenage girl connect to a story about a group of stranded men?

The relationships.

I teach screenwriting at the University of Southern California, which has produced luminaries such as John Wells, for whom the department is named, and the creator of shows like ER and The West Wing; Shonda Rhimes (Grey’s Anatomy); Ryan Coogler (Sinners). Their work illustrates my point. The philosophy of our writing division is that relationships drive the narrative. Plot comes from character.

The advice I give every writer, whether they’re a student at USC or an adult in my Storytelling Lab class: start with character. Who are they? What do they want? How do they respond when tested? Once you know that, the plot reveals itself.

The Shawshank Redemption is a perfect example. It’s set in a brutal prison, but what endures is the relationship between Red and Andy. On paper, Red, a convicted murderer, isn’t the type of person we’d naturally gravitate toward. But we connect with him because we see his humanity. That matters more than the crime.

Writers often get stuck trying to prove how clever they are with plot. But clever plots don’t make stories memorable. Characters do. Their differences drive the story. Put four people in the same situation – a car crash, for example, and you get four different stories. One refuses to drive again. One brings a lawsuit. One shrugs it off. One spirals into a deep depression. Same experience, totally different reactions.

The plot is the crash.
The story is about the people inside the car.

Thelma & Louise are two women on the run after killing a man. That’s the plot. But what we remember are those two women. Their relationship.

Character and plot are in constant conversation. Change the character, and the story changes. Shift the plot, and the character must adapt.

Novels are no different. When we’re reading a novel that captures us, we turn pages obsessively to find out what happens next. This might seem like an interest in the plot, but that obsession actually stems from a strong connection with the main character. The author has made us care.

Character is at the heart of all fiction, regardless of the genre. When you’re reading a book, and you discover you don’t care what happens in the end, it’s not a failure of plot: it’s a failure of character. The novel is peopled by cardboard or stereotypical figures. They don’t live on the page.

Little Women is, on paper, about four sisters coming of age during the Civil War. But the war is in the background. We keep reading for the women.

A Gentleman in Moscow follows an aristocrat sentenced to house arrest in a grand hotel. Through his eyes, his wit, and resilience, we experience decades of Russian history. Because we’re emotionally invested in him, we’re interested in the history that unfolds around him.

UNDER THE RADAR FILM OF THE WEEK: Half Nelson

Half Nelson is a great example of how character and relationships drive the plot.

Ryan Gosling’s character teaches history and coaches the girls’ basketball team at a Brooklyn high school that is primarily black and Hispanic. To the chagrin of his superiors, Dan bucks the outlined curriculum of historical facts in favor of the philosophy of historical events, generally discussing the concept of dialectics. As a result, he captures his students' imagination.

We meet Ryan in the classroom. We see how he reacts to the students and they to him. He’s the ideal role model and inspiration. After class, one of his students finds him passed out in a bathroom with a heroin syringe beside him. I’ve seen Half Nelson several times. I couldn’t tell you the plot. But the relationship between teacher and student is one I won’t forget.

Story isn’t what happens. It’s who it happens to and how they respond.