IV. Plot

“So what's next, unnie?” Byulyi asked. She held her notes up proudly. “I have my character and my setting, sort of. Can we start writing now?”

“The story?” Yongsun said with a sly smile.

“Well, yeah, what else?”

“Sure! How do we go about doing that?”

Byulyi frowned. “This is what you're supposed to be telling me.”

Yongsun chuckled. “Aish, our Byulkong is so cheeky today. Okay, let me ask you this. What is the most important part about the story?”

“That’s a big question, unnie.”

“There is a single big idea that makes stories exciting. It's something that drives our characters forward, motivates them, and keeps us reading. For lots of people, I think it’s why we read in the first place since everybody experiences this at some point.”

“Uh, love?”

“That can be a part of it. Think bigger than that.”

“The...purpose? I don't know. Emotions? The journey?”

“Bigger still.”

Byulyi sighed. “This is too vague. I can't read your mind, unnie. People must read for so many reasons. I don't see how you can have just one.”

“Byul-ah, try harder, because you're probably going to hate me when I tell you,” Yongsun said with a wide smile. “It's very obvious.”

Byulyi rolled her eyes. “Just tell me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Jeez, unnie, stop it with the suspense!”

“It's conflict.”

Byulyi said nothing and first, though her knit brows spoke volumes. “Hmm,” she began slowly, “I mean, I think I agree with you that conflict drives characters forward and stuff, but do you really think people read books because of the conflict?”

“Yes. I think we all suffer from all sorts of conflicts in our everyday lives, and it's the ability to identify with the characters in their conflicts and the way they overcome these conflicts. Emotional attachment is everything when it comes to keeping readers wanting more. Even if it’s some cheesy romance, it’s the little looks and the uncertainty that we love.”

Byulyi reached forward toward Yongsun’s pile of dramas, and picked off the first box. She held up the cover, depicting a beautiful couple, distressed side characters, and a hospital in the background. “Let me ask you then,” she said, “why did you watch this drama?”

Yongsun blushed. “You know why.”

“I do,” Byulyi replied with a chuckle. “You watched all of it even though you said it was bad. Even though I told you it was bad from the beginning! But for the sake of argument, why did you keep going?”

“Because...emotional attachment? I was invested in the characters, okay!”

Byulyi held up a hand. “First of all, not true. You told me you hated everyone and I have your millions of SMS messages to prove it. Second, I'm going to pretend you were being honest and ask where the investment came from.”

“It's the conflict, Byul,” Yongsun said, crossing her arms. “The trials and tribulations that the characters go through makes the success in the end more satisfying.”

“So you didn't spend all 25 episodes yelling, ‘Just kiss already!’ at the TV,” Byulyi said. The corner of her lip curled into a victorious smirk when Yongsun simply gaped. “My point is, unnie, that maybe sometimes you just want to watch ty dramas because you want to. Maybe it comes from your own conflicts that help you identify with the characters or whatever, but I don't know if everyone would agree with the same reasoning. Besides, would you say you watch all of these dramas for the same reason? Some of these were actually really good for different reasons. Or maybe you just watched this because the actors are good looking.”

“Hey! That's not...well they are...but that's not—”

“It's okay, unnie, I get it,” she said, smirking once more.

Yongsun sighed, and shook her head with a resigned smile. “You're right. Jeez, when did you get so clever?”

“I've always been clever,” Byulyi huffed. “But praise me some more. I don't mind, unnie.”

Yongsun laughed, and leaned over to ruffle her bangs. “Who’s the smartest little Byul,” she cooed. “Aish, you're becoming more and more like Daebakkie every day.”

“Hey!”

“Let me change my original statement then,” Yongsun continued, ignoring her, “the driving force of stories and characters is conflict. I think there is a big difference between writing and reading a story too. For a writer, conflict is one of the most important elements in a story. For a reader, like you said, this might not be the case. Conflict might be a part of the emotional attachment, and it might even be the reason why someone reads your story, but not always. Ah, sorry, getting off track. Well, let's just say that we shouldn't assume how readers will react. The author is dead once someone reads your work. But as the author, I think conflict is very important.

“So bear with me for a little bit,” Yongsun said with a sheepish smile, “I just want to break it down a bit. There are two main types of conflicts: interpersonal and intrapersonal. Outside versus inside. They’re the broadest categories, and they kind of sum up our everyday conflicts in life too. When I stole your chicken earlier, you didn’t like that--that’s a minor example of interpersonal conflict because it’s between two or more people. If you are sitting here right now, thinking about your life and struggling to understand why you’re putting yourself through all of this, then that’s an example of intrapersonal conflict.”

Yongsun ripped out a third piece of paper from her notebook, and wrote out a list. “Man versus man,” she read, “man versus self, man versus society, man versus nature, man versus supernatural cosmic super robots. Whatever your character, in this case Hyejin, is facing, it will go under these two broad categories. And, yes, before you ask, she can be fighting against more than one thing. Maybe she’s fighting super robots in the middle of a hurricane while a bunch of misogynists are attacking her self-esteem. It would be a pretty…complicated story, but in a storyline, there tends to be one main struggle that comes with a main goal that the character will achieve. Even if we had that ridiculous scenario with the robots, there might be a big overarching conflict.”

“Like…maybe she’s trying to prove herself? Or maybe she wants to save Wheein?”

“Yeah, maybe she’s going on a journey to redeem herself in some way. Or she’s on a mission to punch all the misogynists in the world. Or maybe there are simply a bunch of robots invading earth that are threatening to destroy the planet.”

Byulyi snickered. “Ahn Hyejin. Misogynist Puncher in a Furry Loincloth. Saving the world, one punch at a time.”

“Yep, she’ll kill us.”

“Are you kidding?” Byulyi leapt out of her seat and grabbed her phone from the dining table. “She’d love it! Wait, I have to tell Wheein. I need her to draw this.” Within a second, her phone beeped, and Byulyi burst into laughter. “She’s on it, unnie.”

“Well, I guess it’s her birthday soon. You’ll have a month to write this novel, Byul, and I really wish you would.”

Byulyi shook her head. “I told you, unnie, I’m writing for a friend.”

Yongsun scooted closer to Byulyi’s resumed seat, and leaned in close. “Who is it, anyway?” she whispered.

“Eh, I’m not telling.”

“Byul-ah! Why are you so secretive? Your unnie is helping you so much!”

“Nope,” she said, shaking vigorously, “it’s a secret.”

“Byul-aaaaah.”

Yongsun puffed out her cheeks. Byulyi laughed and gently poked her right cheek, “I’m allowed to have secrets, unnie. You can stop pouting now. Your mochi cheeks are going to explode.”

Yongsun whined and shook Byulyi’s arm with increasing vigor, but Byulyi only shook her head, steadfast. Yongsun crossed her arms and continued to pout. Finally, with brows raised and eyes wide, she asked, “Is this…a crush?”

Byulyi reddened. “Yah! You’re making this weird!”

“Oh my god, you’re writing for a crush. Who is this? Do I know this person?” Yongsun cried with renewed energy, pawing the sleeve of Byulyi’s sweater.

“Stop being weird!”

“Byulkong, Byulkong, you can tell your unnie,” Yongsun continued. She picked up Byulyi’s sleeve and swung it back and forth.

“Now you're being gross,” Byulyi said, frowning deeply to hide her smile. She made no move to pull her arm back, even when Yongsun seemed bent on dislocating her shoulder. “Yongkong, Yongkong, you're being really gross right now.”

Yongsun leaned in and hugged her arm. Byulyi could barely hear her pleas when she felt the press of Yongsun’s chest against her.

“Unnie,” Byulyi said, quietly. She turned to meet Yongsun’s eyes, her lips pressed tightly into a thin line. “I’m feeling a lot of interpersonal conflict right now.”

Yongsun sighed, and leaned back. “I hate you. You don’t tell me anything,” she mumbled. “I don’t want to help you anymore.”

“Unnie, noooo,” Byulyi whined, “I’ll tell you later, but you have to help me.” She pushed back against Yongsun and threw her arms around her waist, then buried her face into her collarbone once more. Yongsun pulled back at the unexpected affection, and fell backwards into the couch, pulling Byulyi with her. She groaned and lifted herself from Yongsun’s chest. “What are you doing, yeba? That was a very strong reaction,” she cried.  

Yongsun rubbed the back of her head where it hit the armrest. “I’m feeling a lot of intrapersonal conflict right now,” she muttered, absentmindedly pressing a palm over where Byulyi’s face had been.  

“What?”

“Nothing. I said nothing.”

Byulyi sighed, and, with the grace of a newborn deer, untangled herself from Yongsun with her heart pounding in her ears. Finally, she stood, and said, “I don't know why you're being weird, unnie, but I’ll tell you later, okay? I’ll get us some water, and then we can continue.”

When Byulyi returned, Yongsun was stretched out across the couch, her head on Byulyi’s armrest as she appraised the notes in her hands.  Byulyi placed the glasses down on the coffee table and motioned for Yongsun to move. Yongsun sat up just long enough for her to settle in, before reclining back to her original position, this time with her head in Byulyi’s lap. They did not exchange a word for a long time. Yongsun stared at the piece of paper in deep concentration, periodically scribbling something down, while Byulyi her hair and watched her work. The silence, though long, was comfortable.

“Byul-ah, have you seen this?” She said, raising the piece of paper above her head, nearly slapping the sheet against Byulyi’s face. Byulyi flinched back at the close call, and quickly reached up to receive it. She squinted down at the long, curved line across the page.

“Is this a plot diagram?” She asked. “Do people really use these?”

“Mm, I don't really, but I like to picture this in my head before I write anything down. It's simple, I think, and sometimes you need a bit of simplicity so you can have a big picture before you expand on details.” She scribbled several lines across the page with varying lengths and curves turning at varying points. “See?” She said, “These diagrams can be so different. Maybe the exposition doesn't even exist. Maybe you want to start with the . Maybe the falling action is your whole story. I don't know. But for me, in any story, I like to start with a very general version of this diagram where I simply think about three things: beginning, middle, and end. And I sort of think about what kind of line I want to represent the those three things.”

She flipped the piece of paper so that it laid horizontally over her palms above her face, her head nestled comfortably between Byulyi’s thighs. The two edges of the paper were then pushed up to create a curve in the middle. “Maybe for Hyejin’s story, the main storyline will look like this,” she said, “a simple curve from beginning to end. She discovers a problem maybe, perhaps in meeting Wheegolas, and she goes on trying to overcome the problem. At the peak here, is the . Maybe she fights off the robots and saves the world. The other side of the slope, then, is when the story begins to wrap up. Maybe Barbarian Hyejin tries to adjust to a normal life?”

“This is like a little fairytale. But better.”

“So maybe you want to write something a little different,” Yongsun said. She straightened out the piece of paper and tilted it at a 45 degree angle. “Maybe we start right in the middle of the battle, right at the . Point is, there isn't just one way to build a storyline. You can have a ton of different ones interconnecting, or parallel lines, or maybe even a bunch of disjointed lines under a big, broad slope.”

“And this is something you do in your head?”

“Yeah, but I think a lot of people like to write it down so they can piece it all together. I guess I like exploring too much. It’s like...as you go along, all these paths open up and you want to know which one to take so you explore a little bit of each on.” As Yongsun rambled on, Byulyi’s fingers fluttered across her forehead and through her hair. She closed her eyes and sighed into her absent touch. “S-so let's go back to this storyline. What do you think our little story should look like?”

Byulyi, who had been nodding along as she listened, froze in mid- across Yongsun’s hair and nervously withdrew her hand. She cleared . “W-well, she meets Wheegolas,” Byulyi said. She took the piece of paper from Yongsun, straightened it out, and circled the leftmost edge of the diagram with her finger. “Over here. Their relationship builds up this line, until the big robot battle up here on this point.”

Yongsun sat up, and leaned into Byulyi’s side. “So what does that relationship-building look like? This part,” she said, gently holding Byulyi’s hand and guiding her finger up the slope, “is often the longest. We call it the rising action, and in this simple model, it's where we challenge our characters over and over until we reach the tipping point, where a dramatic change happens.”

Yongsun’s hand lingered on Byulyi’s just a moment longer than either expected, and Byulyi instantly missed the warmth when Yongsun dropped her hand onto her knee. She pretended to focus on the drawing while her hand crept down to cover Yongsun’s. “The events throughout this long line,” she said smoothly, “aren’t they changing the story over and over in different ways? Aren’t all of these technically dramatic changes? How would you know when you’ve hit the ?”

Yongsun’s gaze flickered down to Byulyi’s hand, then over her face, settling briefly on her lips before returning to her eyes. “You just do,” she said in a low whisper. At the surprise taking over Byulyi’s  features, and the blush that came with it, Yongsun cleared . “I-I don’t mean it like that.”

“Like what?” Byulyi asked with a smirk.

“Aigo, nevermind. You’re going to make it weird. What I meant to say is that a dramatic change usually changes the protagonist in a significant way.”

“Which,” Byulyi supplied, “can happen several times, couldn’t it? Even though there’s only one spike here. Some people can have multiple es, you know.” She finished with a waggle of her brows, immediately earning a strong, sharp shove, sending her sideways against the armrest.

“Yah! Stop making it weird!” Yongsun cried.

“But it’s true!” Byulyi laughed.

Yongsun blushed bright pink, but did not deny the facts. “You can have...one clmax, or two, or however many you want, but I think in a lot of stories, there is one big defining moment that changes the character and the world around the character. I guess. Yeah. In our example, I think we said that our is when Hyejin fights off the robots?”

“And saves the world.”

“Right. So after however many pages it takes for Hyejin to achieve this goal, she will have to think about her life afterward. It’s a pretty big change, right?”

“Maybe she finally gets the girl.”

“Or maybe she doesn’t.”

Byulyi shot Yongsun a look. “She finally gets the girl,” Yongsun repeated, patting Byulyi’s knee in assurance.

“So now she has to adjust her whole life and get used to this world without robots,” Byulyi said. “Her goals change, and she’s a different person now. But she could just be the same person. Maybe these robots were just an insignificant nuisance to her, and saving the world is nothing?”

Yongsun raised a brow. “So Hyejin is a superhero with a furry loincloth now?”

“Hyejin can do anything, unnie. Believe in our capable maknae.”

“Even if saving the world means nothing to her, she will probably have some sort of big revelation with Wheegolas. Otherwise, your story might turn into a genre like realism, where a lot of the plot is modelled after everyday life. It’s not bad, but I don’t know if that’s what you want to accomplish. But,” she paused for a moment to chew her lower lip, “to be honest...sometimes I don’t think about this at all. I just write what feels right.”

Byulyi sighed into Yongsun’s side, and lightly tapped the side of her head against Yongsun’s. “That’s the best thing you’ve said all day,”

“Oh, but we’re not done yet.”