For me, my lack of structure can sometimes lead to stagnation, where I don't know what's going to happen in the plot, or how a character is going to get somewhere or do something. It's like standing at the edge of a canyon and seeing the other side, but not knowing how you'll get across without either falling and snapping your neck, or else getting several tons of steel to build a bridge (and I'm no engineer). That's why sometimes I do something that you're not supposed to do: I paint myself into a corner.
I didn't say it was a good idea, did I? As most people know, when you do any job, you should always leave yourself a way out, or else you wind up stuck with nowhere to go. The phrase "paint yourself into a corner" represents the trapped individual who now is surrounded by wet paint and can't escape. Of course, who paints the floor? Maybe don't tile yourself into a corner? But I digress; my main point is that when it comes to writing, painting yourself into a corner can sometimes be a very good mental exercise, and thankfully is easily reversible if it doesn't work out as intended.
What it comes down to is this: when I have a situation (for example, being inside an enemy compound) and a result (escaping said compound), but no method (bees?), I will introduce factors that make things a little more wild than what would normally be expected (bees with rocket launchers?). In the example of escaping the compound, we know that the good guy is going to sneak around, he's going to shoot some bad guys, and he's going to find a way out. But that's not very compelling, nor does it develop the character in the slightest. You could just as easily gloss over that part of the story and not lose anything in the process. Complications in the plan are what make for good reads. No plan survives contact with the enemy, so apply that to your writing.
So what happens if the good guy is injured or otherwise incapacitated? What if he needs to carry something with him, like a child? He can only use one arm, and the kid won't shut up, giving away his position. That's a start and it adds tension. Now we need to risk something. His girlfriend is trapped one floor up, but he needs to go down to get out. Now he needs to be creative, needs to split up his resources. We're getting some excitement now, but we're not really in the corner yet. Okay, one last thing: he's being hunted by the Predator and several aliens at the same time. Too much? Okay, there's a helicopter gunship tracking his movements throughout the building, and he has no chance of escape. Now we're pretty much in a corner, and now you as a writer get to be creative, to explore options, to find out how deep your character can reach inside himself to pull out an unexpected ace in the hole.
Of course, this doesn't work as well if you already know how it's all going to play out, but in those cases where you're not sure how to proceed, throw something impossible (within reason) at your protagonist, then get crazy with it and see what sticks. The worst that can happen is you laugh at your bad writing, delete the chapter, and lose a day. But when it works, it makes for a gripping read, where the pages fly by as the reader tries to figure out how in the hell Laser McHawkeye will escape the tower of doom while being chased by a crystal dragon, all while playing the magical flute that keeps his heart from stopping.
A.C. Harrison
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