How many times have you heard something along the lines of this? Our heroes are in a tough spot! Whatever will they do? But wait! Our hero is going to harness the POWER OF FRIENDSHIP and gain powers they didn’t have before! Or a convenient army arrives and saves them. Or their enemies that are on the verge of raising the DARK LORD have to take a convenient lunch break. These kinds of convenient happenings are known as deus ex machinas, meaning “god from the machine.” It is called that because in a Greek plays, a guy dressed as a literal god would be lowered down onto the stage using a machine, and neatly wrap everything up. A deus ex machina usually happens when an author writes himself or herself into a corner. Above: an example of deus ex machina being used badly. Image found on tvtropes.org. As the comic above illustrates, deus ex machina used badly can make a story’s conclusion somewhat unsatisfying, as it makes the conclusion feel unearned. For an example, I’ll write a quick fantasy story to illustrate my point. Our hero, Sebastian, is on an epic quest to save the world. He has fought his way through hordes of orcs, kobolds, and other such vicious monstrosities to stop the demonic ritual of the evil dark lord, Mordrath the Accursed. When Sebastian faces Mordrath, the foul demon is too powerful, and Sebastian simply cannot defeat him. As Mordrath raises his sword to perform the killing blow, however, he suddenly comes down with the flu and has to take a break. This kind of ending is unsatisfying, because no one earned anything. You, the reader, get no proper conclusion to the conflict. No one loses anything, and no one gains anything. The characters don’t get any development. This deus ex machina is an example of lazy or badly planned writing. However, we can rewrite this conclusion to make it more satisfying. Perhaps, before the fight, Sebastian coated his blade with venom to incapacitate Mordrath. Or, maybe he intentionally sent plague-infected rats into the dark lord’s castle to give him a disease. These examples establish Sebastian as a clever fighter who identifies his enemies’ weaknesses. It also makes it so that his salvation is earned, and not just a coincidence. Avoiding a Deus Ex Machina In my experience, the best way to avoid a deus ex machina is to plan out your writing. If you start writing without a plan, you may find yourself being trapped in a corner. Maybe the evil mad scientist destroyed all of reality. Maybe your hero got his spine ripped out and got buried alive, but you still want him to win. Both of these situations warrant a deus ex machina. The best way to avoid these dilemmas is to plan ahead. Figure out the climax and denouement beforehand. As long as you pay attention to these things, you can avoid writing a deus ex machina in the future.
writing
Writing Activity: inspiration from science-based common expressions
There are a lot of science-based ideas expressed in everyday speech. This activity challenges you to identify some of those expressions, think about what they mean, research them to find out the science behind them, and then write about some characters experiencing those phenomena or expressing the emotions they describe. You might literally put a character in a situation governed by a scientific effect, or you might use the science as a metaphor for the person’s behavior. We often speak of people “having chemistry.” When you get to the stage in life where you start falling in love you may tell your best friend about this new love in your life that “I felt this chemistry!” They mean, they felt a strong reaction to the person, like bubbling chemicals in a test tube. People say of some couples that they are “so different,” but “opposites attract.” This is a reference to magnets. The plus and minus sides of the magnet are tightly drawn together, whereas you cannot get either plus/plus or minus/minus combinations to attach however hard you try. They “repell” one another. People will say of someone who shows big emotions that they “erupted like a volcano.” When an audience is sitting waiting for a speaker who they really want to hear they might say, “there was electricity in the room,” or “the atmosphere was electric”. This is the idea that the room feels full of pent up electrical energy—like everyone’s hair is standing up on end, or the pressure is high, as if there is about to be an electrical storm with all the drama of thunder and lightning. I want you to think of other expressions, like, “they don’t mix, they are like oil and water” and then do some research into the science behind the expression. Why don’t oil and water mix? What is really happening in a volcano? How do storms work, and what stages do they go through? Choose your science-based expression, gain a clearer idea about what the science is through some research, and then use these details to inform how you set your scene and portray the motivations behind your characters’ actions. As an example, under a volcano (which might look like a big silent hunk of rock most of the time) there is a molten pool of magma. You might think of this as a pool of tumultuous emotions. You will learn that before an eruption there is usually an increase in earthquakes in the surrounding area as the ground starts to shift. We usually can’t feel these shifts, but they are important to the science of volcanos, and helpful to a writer using volcanic activity as a metaphor. What is the role of the these earthquakes, what do they mean, and how might you show characters or a situation that is about to erupt like a volcano experiencing or displaying these more or less silent signs? To see an example of writing informed by well-researched knowledge of woodland animals and weather, read “Autumn Thunder”; or another, “The Highest Football,” that uses the idea “opposites attract” as a springboard for the rest of the story.
The Pearl, Reviewed by Vandana Ravi, 12
Does bad always follow good? Where does one cross the line between pursuing a dream and being consumed by greed? And how much influence can a small decision have in the world? The novella The Pearl by John Steinbeck explores the answers to these questions to their limits, slowly revealing a portrait of the world which is both terrifying and comforting at once. Through a twisting tale of loss, gain, greed, and – ultimately – death, a beacon of human hope and perseverance shines, making this one of the most memorable books I’ve ever read. The lives of Kino, an impoverished pearl fisherman, and his wife, Juana, are transformed forever when he discovers a perfect pearl, the “Pearl of the World.” Kino dreams of using the money it will make to improve his life in drastic ways; most importantly, sending his infant son, Coyotito, to school. However, he is unwilling to sell the pearl for any sum too small to accomplish his dreams, and the buyers are unwilling to buy it for any sum high enough to do so. The buyers have money and power to steal or kill in order to get the pearl. Kino only has his own strength, knife, and unbending will, and he little realizes how many people are all set on claiming his treasure for their own. Bit by bit, instead of symbolizing invigorating hope for the future, the pearl becomes a painful reminder of the humiliation of the past and the injustice of the present world. One thing that struck me when I was reading The Pearl was how small, everyday actions worked together to play a surprisingly significant part in the tragic resolution of the book. One might not think that things like a doctor’s refusal to treat a poverty-stricken patient with a scorpion bite, or a furious pearl fisherman’s diving deeper than usual to burn off his anger, would indirectly cause the death of a child. But, strangely, they do: independently, these actions are only foolish; together, they are fatal. This aspect of the plot lends an unsettling – almost ominous – feel to the story. The thought It’s only going to get worse was ubiquitous in my mind as I read, and even as I could not put down the book, I didn’t want to read another page. One of the joys of reading is watching someone else’s story unfold in front of you, sympathizing with their losses and triumphs. But, aside from the discovery of the pearl, Kino and his family did not have any triumphs. As I read, their lives went from contented to unhappy to terrified to remorseful and grieved. At the resolution, there was a sense of helplessness and disappointment, of pure human weakness against the forces of ill luck and nature. One of the reasons I love to read is that it uplifts me. Watching good win over evil again and again, in scenario after scenario, inspires me. But what about when good doesn’t win over evil? What about when a sad ending is not diluted by even one small triumph? Does that mean the point of reading the book is lost? On reading the resolution of this novella – and the parts which led up to it – a second time, I think I have an answer. The utter despondency of The Pearl’s plot tends to overpower another element: an underlying thread of hope and shared goals which binds Kino’s family together. Whenever they receive a particularly heavy blow, they are able to rebound because – according to the narrator – Juana, Kino and Coyotito are “one thing and one purpose.” The family has suffered the same hardships and rejoiced at the same successes, and they are all working, together, toward the accomplishment of one ambition: a better life, as much for each other as for themselves. Only when Kino begins to push Juana aside does their life really begin to go downhill. In one scene, rather than give up the pearl or even hear Juana’s opinion, Kino shoves Juana down onto the boulders near the sea. He walks away, holding the pearl which she had advised him to destroy, and is attacked by thieves and almost killed. Eventually, when they flee from the village, Juana walks behind Kino. She is following him because she cares about him, and knows that she cannot change his mind; but she also knows that they are no longer working together toward the same goal, that they are no longer “one thing and one purpose.” When Kino and Juana come back to their tiny hut at the ending, they walk side by side instead of one behind the other: equal again – perhaps more equal than before – and sharing one last bitter loss. Their quiet acceptance of defeat as they walk into the village, heads down, seems like the most incredibly sad ending possible. But when one dries one’s tears and more closely examines the image, a second thing, showing itself even in the way they walk, comes to light: equality and love have been restored between Kino and Juana. Even more importantly, they have learned the importance of what they had lost and have now regained – and how much it can positively influence their lives. In a way, good has won over evil: the anger and greed which had torn their family apart is gone, and though the couple has lost much, they are rich in the things which matter most. The Pearl by John Steinbeck. Penguin Random House, 1947. Buy the book here and support Stone Soup in the process! Have you read this book? Or do you plan on reading it? Let us know in the comments below!
