Lately I’ve been thinking about a funny story that has to do with the writing of Ivanhoe — a novel I just finished reading. “Funny” isn’t really a word usually associated with Ivanhoe, but the book does have its moments and one of its most reliable sources of levity is a character named Athelstane.

Athelstane was a really minor character who had a major impact on the plot. He didn’t do much, but his existence provided one of the key sources of conflict that drove the story. In order for the plot to work, he needed to be around until the climax, and then die. Simple, straightforward storytelling.

The problem Scott ran into was keeping Athelstane around — giving his character a purpose, scene to scene, so that he could continue driving the plot without boring the readers. Scott solved that problem using one of our go-to writing tools.

Athelstane became the comic relief.

He was a funny guy, too. Laid back, cool to a fault, a little bit slow but always willing to weigh in on the fiery events going on around him. He really started to shine when, kidnapped and thrown in a dungeon to be held for ransom, his cool finally shattered — not at the danger or the physical abuse or even the indignity to his person, but at having to miss his lunch.

Shortly after that came his moment of glory, his plot-essential role. Freed from his cell, the castle under assault and vicious battle all around him, he finally found his courage and rushed into the fray. He faced down the story’s villain wearing just his nightclothes, a busted chair leg his only weapon.

And, as had to happen, he was cut down. Scott wasn’t subtle about it, either. The villain, a knight in full armor and mounted on a warhorse, charged the hapless Athelstane and swung a battle axe at his naked head. It connected. The blade split Athelstane’s head from the top, cleaving it through to the teeth. That’s dead.

When he sent that chapter to his editor, it became a big problem. Turns out Scott had done such a good job with the comic relief that Athelstane was his editor’s favorite character. Scott went right on telling his story as it needed to unfold, but he started getting letters from his editor demanding that he undo Athelstane’s death scene.

In the end, his editor won out. Three chapters later Scott finally swallowed his pride, retconned like the best of them, and gave his readers a classic soap opera resurrection scene.

He found ways to explain it away (if awkwardly). He patched together his plot so it still worked. And, most importantly, he told a really great story start to finish, even if it did stumble a bit at places.

The History of Serial Publication

That sort of flexibility is an important trait in writers. I’ve had to exercise it more than once in my own writing career, and the number one thing that’s helped me develop it is my experience with several serial fiction projects.

With its special challenges and unique experience, serial publication teaches lessons like that, often in ways you can’t get elsewhere. Writers have known that for a long time, too. In fact, some of the great classics of Western Literature were written and published as serial novels.

This week I’d like to talk a little bit about the difficulties and the benefits of writing serial fiction, and encourage you to try it for yourself. So come back tomorrow for an introduction to serial fiction, and Saturday for some advice on actually writing serial fiction (and dealing with the worst of its pitfalls).

Photo credit pete-astn.