The Hero's Doubt about Another Is Dispelled

THE HERO who doubts the love, loyalty, fidelity, etc., of a
friend or dear one is the subject of a slick story-type which
is quite unique. Most popular fiction problems are resolved
through a good deal of talk and/or action between characters.
But, because of the nature of his problem, the doubting
hero is isolated-at least as far as his problem itself is
concerned. Oftentimes, the doubting hero's problem is
born, flourishes, and dies without another character in
the story having been aware that any problem existed.
From nowhere-or better, from everywhere, a dark doubt
gathers in the mind of a recently married young man that the
child his wife has just borne him is not his own. From the
start of his marriage, the hero had suspicions that his bride
was not so much in love with him as with her former sweetheart.
And, now, the other man's name is always on her lips.
The ex-lover pays the couple frequent visits and professes
friendship for the husband which the husband feels is feigned
so that the fellow may be near his wife.
To make matters worse, the child was born in its eighth
month. If actually the child was not premature, it was conceived
in the husband's absence. All these factors prey on the
husband's mind, each adding weight to the other. The husband has worked himself into such a state that he lies awake
nights listening for whatever evidence his wife might let slip
in her sleep. And when she is awake, he lays subtle verbal
traps for her. But always her answers are ambiguous. He is
waiting only for a trifle stronger proof to confront her with
her infidelity.
One matter bothers him particularly. The infant is about
to be christened, and the wife has been unable to decide upon
a name for the child. The husband feels certain that this indecision
reflects guilt on the wife's part. The day for the
christening arrives. Because all the attention is being focused
on the infant, the husband's anguish reaches its peak. The
family goes to the church. Then, at the very last moment,
just as the minister asks for the chosen name, the wife realizes
what it should be: the same as the husband's. Instantly, the
husband's doubts dissolve. The fact that his wife has chosen
his name for the infant reassures him completely.
The christening, of course, is the gimmick. As unlikely
as this resolution sounds in outline form, it nevertheless
was original. And originality in gimmicks can often compensate
nicely, not only for an otherwise ordinary story
but for actual logical weaknesses in the gimmick itself.
A cute twist was used in this one.
A young husband at last receives the important business
promotion he and his wife had so long been anticipating. On
his way home from the office on the day he first has learned of
the promotion, the husband decides to see how his wife would
act if she thought he didn't get the promotion. He fears that
she might well show herself to be quite a different person if
he were to fail to go ahead in the business world.
He arrives home and sits down to dinner without telling his
wife a thing about the promotion, only to find that she has
prepared a very special meal. He wonders if she somehow
could have learned the good news from some other source than
himself, but still he does not tell her-until she caps the feast
with a bottle of champagne. After he has made the announcement,
the wife fishes into one of the two pockets of her apron,
takes out a card and attaches it to the champagne bottle. It
reads: "For the winner-with all my love." Later on in the
evening, he sees her surreptitiously dispose of another card
from the other apron pocket. He recovers the card from the
garbage. It reads: "For the loser-better luck next time-
with all my love."
When the writer has as tricky a gimmick as this at hand,
he can relax. In fact, he should strive to otherwise plot
the story simply. The writing should be as plain as bread.
It's safest to work in no gratuitous tricks as the story
progresses; they would only lessen the effect of the main
trick, assuming it's a good one, of course. Conversely, when
the gimmick in a story-form demanding gimmicks is flimsy,
the writer must fill in with warm sentimental touches,
impressive writing, "pseudo-psychological" insights or any
of the other dodges that serve to hide the weakness. Here
is an example of such a lamely plotted piece.
A young woman is married to an architect who has recently
been forced to spend a good many evenings away from home
working on plans for a house he is designing for a local, very
wealthy divorcee. During his continued absences, she allows
herself to imagine that all sorts of intricate cunning schemes
are being fashioned by the divorcee to win her husband away
from her.
One evening she works herself into a frantic state. Finally,
though, the architect-husband gets home, and just because
her doubt and suspicion has reached such a high pitch she
finds herself watching every expression and listening to every
word of his with the greatest care. And as she observes him,
she begins to appreciate what a calm, level-headed, loyal fellow
he really is-quite incapable of falling for the tricks of any
woman as unscrupulous and flighty as the divorcee. She then
looks into her heart and discovers that her suspicions have
arisen because she has been too dependent on him, too dependent
on his fidelity. A more self-reliant wife could never have so
mistaken her husband's character, she feels.
This kind of thing is "pseudo-psychological " insight. A
more sophisticated (although perhaps no truer) explanation
for unfounded jealousy is the tricky mental phenomenon
Freudians call "projection." The mechanics of
guilt-projection are interesting. It seems that the suspicious
party feels himself guilty of the vice or failing he ascribes
to the suspected party, but he is unwilling to accept the
guilt consciously. So, instead of acknowledging the aggression
his conscience is directing toward himself, he will
redirect it toward the party he feels has been injured by
his vice.
To put the thing concretely, an unfaithful husband
(unfaithful in either wish or deed) is quite likely to feel
that his wife has been unfaithful to him, although the
suspicion has no basis in fact. Now, whether mechanics of
Freudian psychology as subtle as this can be sold to a
slick audience is an open question. I 've never seen it
accomplished. So, perhaps it is wiser for the writer to stay
with the more facile interpretations of human behavior
exemplified in the above story-if the writer cares to go
into the matter of motivation at all.
category:plot lines
Category:romance 
Category:information