How to Avoid Dumb Moves

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by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

There was a hilarious commercial a few years ago riffing off of horror movie clichés. It has a group of teens running from some unseen threat, wondering where to hide:

Which brings up the subject of dumb moves.

My wife and I enjoy old TV crime shows, like Peter Gunn, Mannix, Hawaii-Five-O, Dragnet.

We watched one the other night. The PI is looking for a sadistic killer of prostitutes. He gets a call from one who is scared, asking him to meet her at a bar. She thinks she knows where the killer is but doesn’t want to tell him over the phone.

So the PI goes to the bar and wisely sits at a table far from the door. The hooker comes in, spots him, sits down. She’s scared she may be next. But she wants money to show the PI where the guy hides out.

PI agrees and off they go walking down—naturally—a dark city street.

At which point my wife says, “It’s a set up. Don’t go there!”

But he does go there. They get to a chain link fence with an opening. Woman tells PI to follow.

“Don’t do it!” Mrs. B says.

He does it.

And, of course, a few feet later the killer and his thug buddy subdue the PI.

Now what? The killer proceeds to tell PI what he’s going to do. He’s going to kill another girl. Then he’s going to kill the PI. “You won’t know when it’s coming,” he says with a smile, then knocks him out.

PI comes to with just a bad headache. And of course nabs the killer at the end.

We’ve talked before about the TSTL (Too Stupid To Live) character. That happens because it violates a rule (yes, I said rule): Every character in every scene should make the best move possible in pursuit of their agenda.

Violation of the rule results in the dumb move, and readers hate that.

In the above scenario, there are two.

First is when the PI goes through the fence. What else could he have done? Well, for starters, how about not going through the fence? Maybe we can buy that he follows the girl this far, but his PI sense should have told him not to enter unknown territory. But the PI walks right into the trap.

The other dumb move is the killer’s. A sensible killer (if I may suppose such a thing, and Sue and Debbie can check me on that) would have offed the PI right there. But he has the idea that making him wait is the better move.

Um…no.

(Need I go into detail about the “chatty villain” who explains his whole scheme while holding a gun on the hero? Or, worse, sets up the hero to die a horrible death then walks out, giving said hero—often named James Bond—the opportunity to use some clever device to get out of harm’s way. “You expect me to talk?” Bond asks Goldfinger, as Bond is about to be sliced in two by a laser. “No, Mr. Bond,” Goldfinger says. “I expect you to die.” And then he walks out!)

Maximum Capacity

So, when you write a scene—which means Objective, Obstacles, and Outcome—give some thought before you begin on the best moves each character can make. This is called “acting with maximum capacity.”

No character should ever be passive, even the minor ones. Give each character a goal, even if it’s as simple as (in Vonnegut’s words) getting a glass of water. Then have the goals clash, which creates conflict.

The tension will rise unless a move proves dumb.

You should also give thought to what the main characters are doing “off screen.” In other words, they aren’t in suspended animation, waiting to come onstage and improvise. While the viewpoint character is dealing with the scene trouble, other characters are planning their next moves, and they should be at maximum capacity, too.

I call this “the shadow story.” If you give this some brainstorming time, you’ll be developing a lot of plot material, as if by magic.

This is not to say that every maximum move is always positive. Indeed, a character flaw can hinder a best move even though—and this is key—the character thinks it’s best at the moment.

Farley Granger in Side Street (1949)

An example would be a familiar noir trope—the nice guy who is struggling to support a family. Such a film is the noir classic Side Street (1949) starring Farley Granger. Granger plays a decent guy named Joe who has a pregnant wife (Cathy O’Donnell) but has found only part-time work as a mailman. He longs to treat his wife to some of the finer things in life.

One day Joe delivers mail to a lawyer’s office and catches glimpse of a guy putting two C notes into an accordion folder, then shoving it into a file drawer.

The next day, Joe brings the mail into the office, but the lawyer has left a note saying he’s in court and will be back soon.

Joe remembers the two hundred bucks. He looks at the filing cabinet. He hesitates…he resists….he starts to leave. But then desire overtakes judgment. He breaks into the filing cabinet and stuffs the folder into his mailbag. He takes it to a rooftop where he won’t be seen.

There he discovers that the folder contains not two hundred, but thirty-thousand dollars.

Now his wife can have a private room for her delivery.

But of course the thirty Gs belongs to a criminal who will soon hunt Joe.

The point is you can have a fundamentally good character make a maximum move for the wrong reason—and for which he will pay the consequences.

So remember, write your scenes to the max so readers don’t do what Dorothy Parker once suggested: “This is not a novel to be lightly tossed aside. It should be thrown with great force.”

What dumb moves annoy you in fiction or film?

32 thoughts on “How to Avoid Dumb Moves”

  1. Your admonition about the “chatty villain” reminded me of a scene from The Incredibles which spoofs that old trope. Syndrome, the bad guy, has captured Mr. Incredible, who butters up Syndrome and even apologizes to him. While Syndrome rambles about his accomplishments, Mr. Incredible attempts to escape, but is caught. Syndrome says, “Oh, ho ho! You sly dog! You got me monologuing! I can’t believe it!”

  2. Somehow those dumb moves seem more acceptable when watching TV then they do when reading a book.

  3. I love it when the bad guy leaves the room where the hero is supposed to die like in the Goldfinger scene you mentioned. But I like it even more when the villain blabs on and on while he has the hero at gunpoint.

    I recently watched a new-to-me TV series where the dogged detective finally solves a cold case and discovers the murderer was a policeman. When he confronts his fellow lawman, the guy just admits the murder and explains it all.

    • That happens a lot. One fix is to get out of the situation somehow and let a minor character explain the whole thing. That’s what happens in Psycho.

      • I always kind of liked that coda where the cop explains why Norman went nuts. Yeah, it’s talky but I can’t think of any other way it could have been handled. Works for me!

  4. “This is not a novel to be lightly tossed aside. It should be thrown with great force.”

    Great quote, and one to be avoided at all costs in our own writing.

    Great post, too, Jim. I guess our stories should be less filled with dumb moves than real life. Got lots of those, but I didn’t write them down…yet!

    Happy Sunday… 🙂

  6. Terrific post, Jim.

    They say confession is good for the soul, but it’s amazing how often soulless murderers on screen or in print will confess their crime to the amateur while preparing to kill them, unwittingly falling for the hero’s sting, which usually feature police hidden nearby. I confess I love the sting scene, but it needs to be handled with care or else the villain ends up merely being an idiot.

    • Well said. I do suppose there’s a place for the villain/narcissist who takes such pleasure in his intricate scheme he wants the hero to know about it first. It would take some thought on how to make that fresh.

  7. I guess this is more in the realm of impossible moves than dumb moves. But, from the medical perspective, I’m amazed at how may times the protagonist suffers a life-threatening injury, but is back in the fray the next day. Maybe not dumb for the character, but “uninformed” for the writer. I guess it’s fiction.

  8. Too many authors/screenwriters go for the setup followed by the solution they want – without considering all the other possibilities, and making sure those couldn’t happen.

    So many times we’ve read/watched something only to ask ourselves, “Why didn’t they just…?”

    You have to JUSTIFY your solution, not just pick it.

  9. When I ca sit there and tell you want is going to happen next, it is not a good movie, TV show, or book. The villain telling the Hero how good he is passe. Make it different.
    Tropes are fine, but you need to make it fresh and yours and add surprise. Dump it on its head. Have fun with it like in the Incredibles.
    I ‘m like Miss Parker–you throw the book with force when it is so predictable you wasted time reading it.

  10. I hate when people split up, search a darken house , and die.

    I’m going at noon, turning on all the lights and having a battle buddy.

    Also turning your back on the enemy, not checking if they our dead, or securing them. Drives me crazy.

  11. The first time I see the victim running for their life to car with the keys in it, and it won’t start or, trying to get through a door that is jammed, while being chased down, or an alligator crawling in through the bathroom window when the victim is desperately trying to get out, (or whatever stupid, nonsensical cliché it may be), I switch it off. Close the book, and head out.
    Please writers, do not degrade yourself.
    Dumb, dumb, dumb.

  12. By the way Scott, thank you for this article. As usual, your information is helpful and welcomed indeed.

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