"One must not put a loaded rifle on the stage if no one is thinking of firing it."
--- Anton Chekhov

Chekov's Gun is one of those devices that always works. It is tied to the "promise" a writer makes to her readers in a scene. Presenting the "gun" suggests it will be used -- that's the promise. If it isn't, then it's a promise not kept. There has to be a "payoff". So, as frequently used as this device is, its necessity overrides its over-use.

Cliffhanger: Ah, the classics... The cliffhanger or cliffhanger ending is a plot device in which a scene, chapter or even the novel itself contains an abrupt ending, often leaving the main characters in a precarious or difficult situation. This type of ending is used to ensure that the reader will "stay tuned" or return to find out how the cliffhanger is resolved. The phrase comes from the classical end-of-episode situation in silent film days, with the protagonist left hanging from the edge of a cliff. Although it's gotten a lot of flack over the years due to misuse and/or over-use, the cliffhanger is still effective in storytelling. My advice? Never use it for its own sake. Find a good reason for using it, and the cliffhanger will seem consistent with the story and the plot.

A rather popular use for the cliffhanger in more "artsy" novels and cinema is the thought-provoking ending, where either the reader puts things together herself (having been given enough information to do so) or is left to ponder or choose her own ending. It can be done effectively. I suggest reading Memnoch the Devil by Anne Rice for an example of leaving the audience to their own, er, devices.

Deathtrap: A deathtrap is a literary and dramatic plot device in which a villain, who has captured the hero or another sympathetic character, attempts to use an elaborate and usually sadistic method of murdering him/her. Now, this is also one of those hackneyed plot devices, since the first argument against them is that the "brilliant" villain would have been better off shooting the hero outright or something. If done creatively, however, the deathtrap can convince an audience of its necessity and therefore justify its place in the novel. In one tale whose name escapes me, the villain planted a bomb. When the hero arrives and is captured, the villain simply ties the hero up and leaves him to die in the blast. It's a deathtrap, sure. It isn't very elaborate or creative. But it is believable. After all, he was going to blow the building up anyway...

The film Saw and its sequels are all about deathtraps, and the suspense and horror stems from knowing these characters can, and usually do, die. So there is some hope for the old deathtrap plot device.

Deus Ex Machina: Deus ex machina is a Latin phrase that is used to describe an unexpected, artificial, or improbable character, device, or event introduced suddenly in a work of fiction or drama to resolve a situation or untangle a plot (e.g., having the protagonist wake up and realize it was all a dream, or an angel suddenly appearing to solve problems). The phrase has been extended to refer to any resolution to a story which does not pay due regard to the story's internal logic and is so unlikely that it challenges suspension of disbelief, allowing the author to conclude the story with an unlikely, though more palatable, ending. In modern terms the deus ex machina has also come to describe a being, object or event that suddenly appears and solves a seemingly insoluble difficulty, where the author has "painted the characters into a box" that they cannot easily be extricated from (e.g., the cavalry coming to the rescue). A classic example of the use of this type of deus ex machina is in Homer's Odyssey; a more contemporary example is in Michael Crichton's The Andromeda Strain. The device is a type of twist ending.

Okay, here's the skinny: No one ever expects to get away with the deus ex machina solution. Even comedies stay away from them. Heck, even bad comedies stay away from them. You might see a familiar pattern here -- bad plot device, my suggestions on re-working them. But the key lies in creating credibility. This is something that has become oxymoronic with regard to many over-used plots and plot devices. The deus ex machina is still a viable tool. Just know you're using one when you use one. If there's a good reason for it, the readers will see it.

Discovery: (Also called Anagnorisis) In Aristotelian definition of tragedy it was the discovery of one's own identity or true character -- or of someone else's identity or true nature -- by the tragic hero. In his Poetics, Aristotle defined it as "a change from ignorance to knowledge, producing love or hate between the persons destined by the poet for good or bad fortune."

Another classic necessity. Who could forget the profound effect Discovery had on Luke Skywalker when he found out Darth Vader was his father? It became his focus, and eventually this little tidbit of information saved the galaxy. Without that knowledge -- both of Vader, Leia and himself -- Luke's actions could have proven catastrophic.

I should note that some newbies will confuse this with information that only appears to be Discovery. For example, Harry Potter discovering his true nature (being a wizard) isn't the same as his discovering how he survived the attack that killed his parents. One was necessary to get the story rolling; the latter is a true Discovery that defines Potter as a hero.

Eavesdropping: Not a nice thing to do, but it does work wonders for John McLain in the Die Hard movies. It's a way to disseminate information without "dumping it" on your audience, and typically allows the characters to find out information vital to the story. It's been done to perfection in the aforementioned films, wherein John immediately finds a radio and listens in on the villain as he barks orders to his henchmen. Over-used? Yes. But I wouldn't say it's implausible. Anyone would try to get more information, and simply asking the villain for it is even less plausible. I think this device simply gets a bad rap.

Frame Story: A frame story (also frame tale, frame narrative, etc.) is a narrative technique whereby a main story is composed, at least in part, for the purpose of organizing a set of shorter stories, each of which is a story within a story—or for surrounding a single story within a story. Frame stories are often organized as a gathering of people in one place for the exchange of stories. Each character tells his or her tale, and the frame tale progresses in that manner. Historically famous frame stories include Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, about a group of pilgrims who tell stories on their journey to Canterbury. Another series of examples is Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles, wherein the Vampire Lestat almost invariably winds up having someone's tale told to him. Mary Shelley's novel Frankenstein is another good example of a book with multiple framed narratives. In the book, Robert Walton writes letters to his sister describing the story told to him by Victor Frankenstein; Frankenstein's story contains the monster's story.

MacGuffin: The element that distinguishes a MacGuffin from other types of plot devices is that it is not important what the object specifically is. Anything that serves as a motivation will do. The MacGuffin might even be ambiguous. Its importance is accepted by the story's characters, but it does not actually have any effect on the story. It can be generic or left open to interpretation.

Because a MacGuffin is, by definition, basically unimportant to the story, its use can challenge the audience's suspension of disbelief. Well-done works will compensate for this with a good story, interesting characters, talented acting/writing, and so on. In the case of an ambiguous MacGuffin, audiences can imagine what it is or ignore it and just go along with the story.

My favorite MacGuffin is the Briefcase in Pulp Fiction. All we shall ever know about it is that it had a golden glow inside and people were willing to do a great deal to keep it or get it. Another good one was used in Mission Impossible II, called the "Rabbit's Foot". When Ethan (Tom Cruise) asks what it is, he's never given an answer. This leaves something memorable without leaving anything specific. Pure genius, really.

Plot Coupon/Voucher: A plot coupon is an object whose possession or use is necessary in order to resolve the conflict upon which the plot hangs, when this necessity clearly springs from the arbitrary decision of the author to make it so necessary. (The name is derived from a joke: When the characters have collected enough plot coupons, they can trade them in for the denouement.) For example, if the main plot of a novel concerns an ancient artifact that was broken into several pieces, and which must now be collected, reassembled, and activated in order to defeat the villains, the separate pieces of the artifact are surely plot coupons. The second Tomb Raider movie uses this exact concept.

My favorite device! Yes, there is the risk of making one a Deus Ex Machina (see above), and there are ways to abuse them, but I'm a plot voucher nut. I almost named this entire section "Q Branch", since the most notorious user of plot vouchers is James Bond, as created by "Q". Ever notice that Bond loses most of his gadgets just after using them? This is because they only existed to get him out of the situation. To keep them would mean having the chance to use them again, which doesn't raise the suspense. Vouchers are used during the course of the story, where coupons are typically used to resolve the primary conflict.

Predestination: A predestination paradox, also called either a causal loop, or a causality loop and (less frequently) either a closed loop or closed time loop, is a paradox of time travel that is often used as a convention in science fiction. It exists when a time traveller is caught in a loop of events that "predestines" him or her to travel back in time. This paradox is in some ways the opposite of the grandfather paradox, the famous example of the traveller killing his own grandfather before his parent is born, thereby precluding his own travel to the past by canceling his own existence.

Because of the possibility of influencing the past while time travelling, one way of explaining why history does not change is by saying that whatever has happened was meant to happen. A time traveller attempting to alter the past in this model, intentionally or not, would only be fulfilling his role in creating history as we know it, not changing it.

In physics, the Novikov self-consistency principle proposes that contradictory causal loops cannot form, but that consistent ones can. In a physical sense, a self-consistent causal loop of this kind is not actually a paradox because it produces a logically consistent result rather than a contradictory one. It is only perceived as a paradox because it goes against conventional expectations and assumptions about causality.

Red Herring: In literature, a red herring is a plot device intended to distract the reader from a more important event in the plot, usually a twist ending. The term "red herring" originates from the tradition whereby young hunting dogs in Britain were trained to follow a scent with the use of a "red" (salted and smoked) herring. This pungent fish would be dragged across a trail until the puppy learned to follow the scent. Later, when the dog was being trained to follow the faint odor of a fox or a badger, the trainer would drag a red herring (which has a much stronger odor) across the animal's trail at right angles. The dog would eventually learn to follow the original scent rather than the stronger scent.

In literature, the most commonplace use of a "red herring" is in mystery fiction. One particular character is described or emphasized in a way that seems to throw suspicion upon that character as the person who committed the crime: later, it develops that someone else is the guilty party.

Usually, the new novelist screws this up. The reader expects the red herring now, and the newbie rarely handles it well. One way some mystery writers deal with this is to make everyone appear guilty of the crime, then find the clues that narrow the suspects down to one. Agatha Christie's famous detective Hercule Poirot used a method called induction, where he would accumulate evidence against each suspect. The one with the most evidence against them was obviously the criminal. This lends itself to a reasonable use of red herrings.

Reversal: Reversal (Also called Peripeteia) is a reversal of circumstances, or turning point. The English form of peripeteia is Peripety. Peripety is a sudden reversal dependent on intellect and logic. Peripeteia includes changes of character, but also more external changes. A character who becomes rich and famous from poverty and obscurity has undergone peripeteia, even if his character remains the same.

When a character learns something he had been previously ignorant of, this is normally distinguished from peripeteia as anagnorisis or discovery, a distinction derived from Aristotle's work.

Aristotle considered anagnorisis, leading to peripeteia, the mark of a superior tragedy.

A modern example for Reversal is the film The Empire Strikes Back. There, you have Luke Skywalker soundly defeated by Darth Vader and Han Solo betrayed by a friend and captured. In fact, with Luke discovering Darth Vader is his father, and thereafter acting out of that knowledge, the story adds the anagnorisis to the peripeteia and completes Aristotle's perfect tragedy formula.

Remember how I told you that expert writers can belt out novels in double-quick time? This is one of the methods they use. They begin their story with the Reversal in mind -- they know that, at some point, there will be a Reversal. This leaves the writer with a clear objective until the Reversal occurs.

Sexual Tension: Sexual tension is a plot device employed in works of fiction wherein two or more of the characters sexually long for one another, but the consummation is postponed or never occurs. This longing is often suggested by incidents of intimacy; for instance, when two characters are alone, are physically close, but desire is never explicitly expressed. It also might be suggested in dialogue, as in, for example, a subtle reference to a character's feelings. Sometimes, displays of hostility are used to hide secret attraction, or to deflect true but inconvenient romantic feelings.

The device creates a direction for the plot: toward a resolution. Alternatively, it might create a subplot that may or may not be resolved.

The device, when used by a skilled writer, evokes tension in the audience on account of this private knowledge. In a generic movie, by contrast, sexual tension is often employed and then concluded with a love scene. Soap operas in particular, rely heavily on sexual tension between characters to extend storylines, and maintain interest.

It is important to note that many popular television shows suffered declining ratings and subsequent cancellation, once the sexual tension between the main characters was dissolved. This was usually achieved when the characters married, entered an ongoing sexual relationship or had a child.

Sexual tension can be a normal part of human sexuality in day to day life. It is particularly common in the workplace, where many people work together in close proximity and develop an attraction to each other, but are unable to pursue a connection for any number of reasons.

The VILLAIN: Now, this section is freakin' huge. It's so huge, I had to give it its own page. This is because no other plot device gets used as frequently, as effectively, or as masterfully as the Villain. There's so much to say on the subject, I felt it was important to cover this by itself. To view, simply click here.

Wheel of Fire: In a literary context, the Wheel of Fire may refer to the chain of tortuous or dire consequences that result from a single action. The Wheel of Fire is part of the Aristotlean reading of a tragedy (e.g. plays), which includes the central flaw within a character. In Shakespeare's tragedy Othello, the flaw in Othello himself is his vulnerability to jealousy and his tendency to believe Iago, who is manipulating Othello into believing his wife is unfaithful. As a result of this flaw Othello loses a loyal friend, murders his wife, and is driven insane before eventually committing suicide. In this scenario the Wheel of Fire begins with the action of Othello trusting Iago and consequently the other events occur.

The Wheel of Fire is most commonly applied to the protagonist within a tragedy (i.e. the hero) and may aim to provoke sympathy from the audience when the hero falls from grace (this purging of emotions is known as catharsis), though it also adds dramatic interest to the performance.

One writer put it best: "Give your characters flaws and attack those flaws with plot." Many writers don't separate plot from characterization -- the former is a vehicle for the latter. Others consider the reverse -- that plot occurs as a direct result of the character's actions. For a deep, insightful read of human experience, I think the former serves best. For a "good-time" read, especially for comedy, I believe the latter is best. Having either one in mind before you write will speed things up considerably on your end.