rim, little old maid" is a surprise,
but it is a very common thing for ladies to walk upon a public
highway. Any surprise must be natural,--the result of causes at work
in the story, or of circumstances which are always occurring and by
themselves no surprises. If the story be a tangled web of incidents
culminating in some horror, as the death of the beautiful young wife
in Hawthorne's "Birthmark," all the events must be told that are
necessary to carry the reader from the first time he beholds her
beauty until he sees her again, her life ebbing away as the fairy hand
fades from her cheek. In "Baa, Baa, Black Sheep" it would be
impossible to pass directly from the sweet boy of the first chapter to
the little liar of the last; something must be told of those miserable
days that intervene, and their telling effect on the little fellow. So
a reader could not harmonize his idea of old Scrooge gained in the
first chapter with generous Mr. Scrooge of the last without the
intermediate chapters. Keeping the main incident in mind, include all
that is necessary to make it possible.
Consistency.
This same rule more than any other will make a story consistent. If
incidents are chosen with relation to the one main incident, they will
all have a common quality; they can scarcely be inconsistent. It is
much more essential that a story be consistent than that it be a fact.
Indeed, facts are not necessary in stories, and they are dangerous.
Ian Maclaren says that the only part of his stories that has been
severely criticised is a drowning episode, which was a fact, and the
only one he ever used. Yet to those who have read "The Bonnie Brier
Bush," the old doctor is as well known as any person who lives across
the street; he is real to us, though he never lived. "Old Scrooge" and
"Brom Bones" are better known than John Adams is. A good character or
a good story need not be drawn from facts. Indeed, in literature as in
actual life, facts are stubborn things, and will not accommodate
themselves to new surroundings. Make the story consistent; be not too
careful about the facts.
A story may be good and be entirely contrary to all known facts. "The
Ugly Duckling" is as true as Fiske's "History of the United States,"
and every whit as consistent. "Alice in Wonderland" is an excellent
story; yet it contains no facts. The introduction of a single fact
would ruin the story; for between the realm of fact and the region of
fancy is a great
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