A to B-story: How to Deepen the Story by Adding Another Story Layer
By Tori Leigh Kelley
One way to make a story go from a flat, one-note operation, is to create a B-story for another character that mirrors or contrasts the goals and conflicts of the main character. If a story’s main character is the only person in the story’s world with a goal, the story will not come alive in the minds of readers. The goal of this essay is to examine good examples of creating a B-story that advances the A-story. This essay will show exactly how a B-story deepens the plot and how much would be missing without it. Writing a novel is the most complex written activity as it contains so many moving parts. In order to get it right, it takes many passes, slowly adding layers to make a story feel real. The more connections we can make in a novel, the more we can feel the breath of life by its characters.
In life, two friends are the main characters of their own’s life’s journey; each having desires, goals, and needs of their own. Weaving both of these into a story can create 3D results on the page. In Story Genius, Cron warns that, “…focusing on the main storyline as you develop your story [soon] becomes predictable and surprisingly flat” (223). Cron goes on to compare a novel to a musical track in which each instrument is recorded separately, and laid on top of the last one, ending with the voice, which is what we hear the most and brings the whole thing to life. She made the point that novels operate on the same level, with each layer “laid down one by one” (224). The goal is to “advance multiple subplots, deepen characters, and foreshadow the future” (224). When readers read carelessly thrown in details, the reader believes there is deeper meaning to that detail and will make guesses and wait to see if they’re right. But if that detail actually serves no purpose other than the writer’s creativity, the reader will become frustrated, because their guesses were futile, and they never receive closure or that good feeling of being right about something.
In Writing the Breakout Novel Workbook, Maass refers to these subplot connections as “nodes of conjunction” (104). He maintains that “nodes of conjunction give a novel texture, a feeling of being woven together” (104). The more connections an author can make, the more real a story will feel, because just as in life, we have much more than just one thing going on at any given time. People are complex creatures. We must make our characters just as complex. When we weave different connections together by playing one character off another, we reveal their true nature, and thus deepen the reader’s understanding of that character, sometimes to the point of understanding the character better than the character understands themselves.
These “nodes” that Maass refers to come alive in an excellent example by Suzanne Collins’ The Hunger Games. Collins employs A to B-story plotting to sink the reader deeper into the mind of her main character, Katniss Everdeen. The main plot, or the A-story is about a girl, Katniss Everdeen, who has to participate in a brutal battle to the death, after she volunteers herself as tribute to save her sister’s life. That is a compelling and endearing plot by itself, but Collins doesn’t stop there. She gifts Peeta Mellark a desire line of his own to drive the B-story. What does Peeta desire? Katniss Everdeen.
It is Peeta’s love for Katniss that saves them both in the end. If the novel had begun and ended just with Katniss killing everyone in sight at the Hunger Games, we still would have cheered her on all the way through until she had to kill her district partner, Peeta. However, it is hard to cheer on a lone person who has to kill everyone. How do you make a reader root for a killer?
Partners bring a deeper layer. And love brings yet another. Katniss is not interested in a love relationship with Peeta. She can’t afford it in her life or death situation. But Collins put love in the story just the same. The Hunger Games is not a typical romance book—in fact, it’s not a romance book at all. Peeta’s unrequited love for Katniss is not there for romance, it’s a B-Story layering technique that pays off. Why?
In the opening of the novel, we see Katniss hunting illegally. She does this to take care of her family that is literally suffering from starvation like many others in their district. The burden of feeding her family appears to be resting on her own young shoulders. That is the main storyline, how Katniss takes care of her family—to the point of sacrificing her own life when she “volunteer[s] as tribute” (21). But then we see the B-story emerge when Katniss recalls that she had been looking inside the baker’s trash bin for a scrap of bread to eat, she was so desperate. The baker’s wife catches her, insults her and shoos her away, all while the baker’s son, Peeta Mellark, looks on. Peeta then burns some bread on purpose and at great punishment to himself by his mother who tells him to throw the burned bread to the pigs. For once, Katniss gets to experience someone taking care of her. Katniss tells us that Peeta “threw a loaf of bread in my direction” (30). The A-story is Katniss taking care of her family. The B-story is Peeta taking care of Katniss. The more a subplot can mirror itself the more depth the story will have.
Later, when Katniss and Peeta are preparing for the Games and are being interviewed to win crowd approval and hopefully sponsors. Peeta Mellark reveals a secret that was capitalized on as a gimmick for them to have an advantage at the games, but that ends up saving their lives in the end. But the reason this sub-plot is so compelling is that Peeta is sincere in his feelings for Katniss—ripping out the readers hearts in a most satisfactory way. During Peeta’s interview he’s asked about having a special girl. Peeta replies there is someone special but that he doesn’t have a chance with her. The person interviewing him, Caesar, encourages him that once she sees him win the Games, she won’t be able to turn him down. But Peeta says winning won’t help and when Caesar asks why not, Peeta says, “Because she came here with me” (132). Game. Set. Match. Now readers understand that if Peeta wins, it means Katniss is dead. And if Katniss is alive, then Peeta is dead. Perfect symmetry. They can never be together. Peeta can never have what he desires. But readers will hope for him anyway, because he is good, honest and true.
It doesn’t matter that Katniss didn’t ask for Peeta’s help. Peeta loves Katniss. He takes risks for her. To protect her. Defeating all of the tributes by herself would not have been as satisfying and honestly, not as realistic, as when Katniss receives help from Peeta. During the Games, Katniss has belted herself into a tree. She would’ve been discovered by dome opposing tributes had Peeta not covered for her by directing their attention elsewhere. He does this once again at great cost to himself. We see this when the other tribute asks the group leader, “Why don’t we just kill him now and get it over with” (161). But he’s good with a knife, so they let him stay. Plus, they say, “…he’s our best chance of finding her” (161), meaning Katniss. They think Peeta will lead them to Katniss, but actually Peeta is keeping them away from Katniss and only the reader can see this, which is always a treat for a reader when they know things the characters don’t. This scene shows us how far Peeta is willing to go for Katniss.
For Katniss, being in the games is an act of bravery to save her sister, Prim. But for Peeta, being a tribute in the games has taken on a sense of heroism of his own for Katniss. Peeta’s character so far has been one of sweetness, despite being a tribute and what is expected of him. To kill. We get a deeper look at his character when he finally does this. The leader boy from District 2 asks if the girl they discovered, not Katniss but another tribute, is dead. Peeta went back to check on her, and when he comes back he replies, “She is now” (162). Then we hear the cannons, which means he really did kill her. This scene is chilling, but it shows us what Peeta is capable of, because up to now, he was just a baker’s boy who was good with a knife.
Peeta’s B-story intertwines with Katniss’ A-story at end of the Games when they are the only two left and there can be only one winner. Throughout the Games, Collins planted these poisonous berries that kill a very sympathetic character, Rue. Katniss has kept some of these berries on her. Now, faced with the impossible choice of how to end this nightmare for them both, Peeta sticks to his heroism, removing the bandage that Katniss wrapped around his leg earlier to save him. His plan is literally to let his blood pour out of him in order to save Katniss.
Peeta reminds Katniss that they have to have a victor and it can only be one of them. But she won’t let him kill himself. She gets an idea to satisfy the Capitol, she hopes. She ponders what would happen if they had no victor. Would the whole system blow up? They’ve never had two winners. They’ve never had no winners. She plans for them to both take the deadly berries. Peeta is so in love with her that he’s willing to do it. The story harkens a Romeo and Juliet plot—if we can’t live together, we’ll die together. Katniss is hoping this angle will work with the Capitol. Katniss tells us, “Peeta leans down and kisses me once, very gently” (344). Then the reader holds their breath when Peeta says, “The count of three” (344).
It works. The Capitol makes an announcement to end the games, pronouncing Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark the victors. Plural. An unpredictable ending, sort of, in that it’s an end to the Hunger Games that has never been seen before among the Districts. A clever reader will have made predictions that both Peeta and Katniss should get out alive and beat the Games somehow. They will be overjoyed to read that they predicted correctly and that the how—berries threatening dual suicide—is a fresh and unexpected solution. Unless they also guessed that answer in which case the reader will feel very smart and triumphant—which is a good author’s goal.
In the final wrap-up scenes, the A-story and B-story make one final connection. Katniss and Peeta are getting ready to leave the train and re-enter their district. The world expects them to be a couple, so much in love that they would commit suicide rather than outlive the other. But acting desperately in love” (357) was a device developed by Katniss and Haymitch to get out of the Games alive. Katniss worries about returning to her life, “When I poured out those berries, I was only thinking of outsmarting the Gamemakers, not how my actions would reflect on the Capitol” (357).
Katniss goes on to consider how “Peeta will suffer, too” (357). Katniss cares for Peeta, but Peeta loves Katniss. These two differences of feelings will never align, creating tension for their relationship, even though it saved both their lives. This is evidenced by Katniss’ recollection of a conversation she had with District 12’s mentor, Haymitch. Katniss asked him if he told Peeta that “he had to pretend to be desperately in love” (357). Haymitch replied, “Don’t have to. He’s already there” (357). Katniss wondered if he’s already “aware of the danger” and needed to pretend to get out alive, or if he’s “already desperately in love. I don’t know” (358). Having Katniss not know is delicious for the reader, because the reader knows Peeta truly loves Katniss, and readers enjoy figuring things out for themselves and seeing the proof that they were right later in the story.
Threading A-stories with B-stories gives a reader a richer experience than if they had followed just one character through their singular desire line. Had Peeta not been in love with Katniss and not pledged himself to save her, this story would look very different. Katniss would methodically go through the paces of the Games, killing each tribute as they appeared. In the end, I believe it would have still come down to Peeta and Katniss, but Katniss would have continued on in her hardened and necessary way to eliminate Peeta and be declared the winner. While she would have absolutely met her desire line: save her family, protect her little sister, and survive the Games, the attainment of that goal would have been too flat. Adding the tension of Peeta’s feelings, his desire line for Katniss to return his affections, adds a rich symphony to a story that risked being one note had Katniss gone through and killed all the tributes herself without partnering with Peeta, without his love for her.
We see the end of Peeta’s B-story on the final pages when he and Katniss arrive back at District 12 and are about to face their families and community again. Katniss lists her complicated feelings about how she cannot return his love because what kind of life could they have together, married and with children? She doesn’t plan on marrying and wants to spare him the pain now rather than later of allowing him to pine after her. She does her best to explain her feelings to him as honestly as she is able. When they prepare to re-enter their District, Peeta offers his hand and says, “One more time? For the audience” (373)? She senses his “hollow” voice, which causes her pain because “the boy with the bread is slipping away from me” (373). She takes his hand and dreads “the moment when I will finally have to let go” (374). We know she has feelings for him, too. We also know she has feelings for Gale, her hunting partner and the boy she left behind when she volunteered as tribute, another messy and complicated relationship. The last line of having to “let go,” is important because it refers not just to Peeta’s hand, but letting go of the pain of the Games also. Letting go of the experience of living in a society where the government has so much control over her, she has to pretend to love a boy to save herself and him. The B-story of Peeta Mellark matched with the A-story of Katniss Everdeen is so ripe with tension and deep thought that it creates a multilayered 3D reading experience. Their stories layer over each other in a way that works because they mirror each other—each of them saving someone—and they advance the plot while enhancing reader interest.
Collins’ story gives a writer much food for thought in how to layer a story and give it texture by choosing mirroring themes to create symmetry. If an author can accomplish this, the reader will feel complete immersion in the story. The Hunger Games provides a good example of how this effect is accomplished.
Another strong example of how a B-story can enhance plot is in Melina Marchetta’s novel, Saving Francesca. In this case, the B-story is what makes this book come alive. The title implies that there is a girl in need of saving. This is true. Francesca is disappointed with her life, her school, her family. She is visibly depressed. The author shows us her depression through Francesca’s judgmental voice, inability to appreciate anything, and distain of her life’s events, especially at her new and mostly all-boys school.
Francesca complains about many things but does so with a biting humor that doesn’t drag the reader down even though this book’s A and B-stories tackle depression. “These guys fart a lot as well” (11). Francesca’s depression and loss of her friends from her previous all-girls school is the A-story. On its own, it’s entertaining, but it would never hold for the entire novel as a satisfying story. It would feel meandering like Angus, Thongs and Full-Frontal Snogging and Francesca would come off as an unlikable whiner who criticizes everyone including her friends like Georgia.
The B-story in Saving Francesca is what saves Saving Francesca. “This morning, my mother didn’t get out of bed” (1). She continues by admitting her gratefulness to have escaped her mother, Mia’s, pep talks and her music choices that are supposed to be inspirational. Francesca paints a picture of a mother who sounds vibrantly engaged in her daughter’s life, even though Francesca finds it annoying. Until the day, her mother doesn’t get out of bed in the very first sentence of this book. Francesca’s mother’s silence is at first a curiosity, but then her mother’s silence becomes even worse than the “motivational messages stuck on my mirror urging me to do something that scares me every day” (1). Francesca misses her mother’s invasiveness because from page one of the story, Francesca’s mother stops doing everything.
As the reader turns the pages, the B-story unfolds as a mystery. There are clues of what could be ailing her mother. Symptoms of depression. But they could also be symptoms of another illness. Cancer. Or a pregnancy by all the vomiting Francesca hears her do and how she never touches the food Francesca brings to her on a tray in bed. The reader has to keep reading to figure it out.
Francesca recalls her mother saying to her while bra shopping, “A piece of me is gone” (8). This is a clue that her mother feels empty and was on her way to a breakdown, but Francesca can’t piece it together yet. All these clues build the B-story and keep the reader turning the pages. They also give texture to what Francesca experiences as her own A-story. She needs to find her place among the other thirty girls and seven hundred and fifty boys at St. Sebastian’s, a place where the boys would “be very happy if we never opened our mouths at all” (3).
Francesca tries to keep up her relationships “with the ex-Stella girls” (27), these are the girls from her previous all-girl school that she believes are her friends even though they are indifferent and catty towards her. They reprimand her when she is too vocal. She likes them because “they’ve always been good at fitting in” (27), which is something Francesca values as opposed to her mother who, until her depression, was vocal about her daughter standing out, being herself, and standing up for herself.
One theme of Saving Francesca’s A-story is Francesca learning to stand up for herself. When her mother stops mothering, Francesca’s father takes over childcare. He makes Francesca and her brother, Luca, eggs for breakfast. It’s a loving gesture, but Francesca hates it, because she and Luca hate eggs, and their mother knows it, but their father doesn’t, revealing a disconnect he has with his children. After several of these egg breakfasts, Francesca finally says, “We don’t like eggs, Papa” (51). She is “pissed-off at him [because he] can’t fix things up” (51). Her anger over her mother’s depression, and Francesca’s own depressed feelings, plus her fear that she could someday become incapacitated by depression like her mother, fuels her voice in this small act of courage, which Marchetta parcels out from small triumphs to larger ones throughout the story to show Francesca’s growing strength and character arc.
Marchetta reveals and deepens the A-story of Francesca learning to save herself by developing the B-story of her mother’s depression. The mother in this story is painted as assertive, analytical and focused before her depression—all traits that Francesca actively detests as she continues to value fitting-in like the Stella girls while the author drops clues that Mia is naturally outspoken like her mother when she isn’t so afraid. During a conversation with a St. Sebastian boy she reveals “dread[ing] next year, when [she’ll] be asked one hundred times” (87) what she wants to become. Marchetta depicts a character who is unclear on who she is and what she wants to be when she grows up. This exchange shows her difficulty defining her identity separate from her mother, who is outspoken, or from her Stella friends, who don’t rock the boat, and belittle her.
But Francesca shows us she can be outspoken when a boy, Will, asks her what was meant by “Stalag 17 is a travesty of co-educational drama” (87). Francesca explains that this item on the list made by her more outspoken classmate, Tara, refers to the school’s problem of not including the girls in their offerings of activities. That there aren’t any female parts in Stalag 17. Francesca says, “They didn’t even audition us for drama, debating or anything” (87). This conversation is a small step forward in getting Francesca to claim her powerful voice. It is both the mother and daughter’s voice, using them to effectively assert what is troubling them, that is the saving grace for them both.
As the story progresses and the mother remains in bed, Francesca is provided with opportunities to use her voice. Her drama teacher asks her if she’s okay. He notes that she “look[s] better than last term” (146). Francesca finds the courage to tell him what’s bothering her in his class. “Henry IV only has one good female role” (146). The brilliance of Marchetta’s creation is using not only a B-story but having a drama component that mirrors a theme of the story. Drama roles and gender roles. Assertiveness. Finding your role in life. These parallels are clever and move the story forward in a cohesive way.
There is a big scene told in flashback that reveals the relationship between Mia and her daughter Francesca. Her old school, Stella, is going to audition girls for the musical, Les Misérables. Francesca excitedly reports this news to her mother. “I’m going to tell you something, but I don’t want you to get excited” (180). The way this is phrased, shows how their relationship used to be. Francesca trying to downplay everything and her mother having passionate reactions to her daughter’s good news. Her mother says she “can’t promise lack of excitement” (180). Francesca reveals the big news of the musical. Her mother says, “interesting” (180). Francesca’s inner thought informs us that she “was crushed” (180). When she presses her mother to explain why she isn’t more excited, her mother reminds her that she told her “not to get excited” (180). Francesca laments, “You’ve ruined my moment” (181).
This set up and let down pattern is repeated throughout the book. Francesca has a flaw of wanting something, of being passionate like her mother, but of constantly fighting against that natural urge because she is afraid she will become her mother.
The next day at auditions, the reader knows how much getting a part in this play means to Francesca and how prepared she is, “I…know all the songs by heart” (181.) We also learn that she has inherited “good voices from my mum’s side of the family” (182). But “As I watched the competition, the pit in my stomach grew bigger. I was better than these girls and I was going to get that part” (182). The reader now is nervous for her but is sure as she is in her abilities. Then, the turn that no one expects. “So I walked out” (183). This action shows us Francesca’s inner battle. Marchetta masterfully weaves in tension and elements of surprise into this story.
Francesca’s sadness is then mirrored by her mother, Mia’s, in the following scene when her mom picks her up from school. Francesca says she “lied to her and told her that I didn’t get the part, but I don’t think she was listening” (183). Her mom isn’t listening. For once, her mother is wrapped up in her own stuff and not nosing into her daughter’s life. Her mother tells her, “I’m going to take the university job” (183). Next comes a shift of Francesca taking care of Mia. “You don’t seem happy” (183). Mia confides that she is sad, too. The two cry “all the way home” (183). Francesca tells us she knows why she herself was crying, but she couldn’t “work out what her [mom’s] reason was” (183).
The mystery of Mia’s depression is still unclear, even on page 183, but now we know about the death of her father, Francesca’s nonno a little while back. The scene follows where Francesca’s father forgets to pick up the kids and they have a fight. Francesca says, “Luca and I are sick of pretending” (186.) She accuses her father of not caring. It’s the first time they are shouting in the house. Still, the mother doesn’t get out of bed or react. Francesca wonders if her father is really shouting at her or if his anger is actually meant for her mother. “And I hate him and love him and curse him and feel sorry for him, all at the same time” (186). This scene moves the story forward and brings the father into the picture. His role is meant to reveal the B-story and be another mirror for the reader to understand Francesca’s emotional state. Having one character remain depressed throughout the book, can feel very one-note. Marchetta addresses this by revealing the mother’s emotional range in flashbacks, and in scenes like this one where another character does the heavy lifting. When the father and Francesca shout at each other, it gives Francesca a chance to do what she needs to, use her voice, without the burden of taking care of her mother. This is a successful key scene that provides Francesca with an opportunity for growth.
Francesca glides on that growth into the next key scene where her drama department has reconsidered their choice of play and changes it from Stalag 17 to Macbeth. “I throw myself into drama. I’ve decided […] I want to be an actor (189). This is the first time we see Francesca make a choice for herself, separate from her mother and her friends. She also uses her voice in class to ask the drama teacher a direct question, another sign of growth and inner strength. “Are we going to do a musical next year” (189)? Francesca pines for a raincheck of Les Misérables where she sabotaged herself by walking out of the audition. But her teacher responds that they are a drama department. She doesn’t get what she wants, but she gets what she needs. She speaks up for what she wants. She demonstrates assertiveness.
Close to the end, there’s a scene with the Stella Girls on the bus. Francesca shows growth by showing her understanding of their true nature. That looking back, they really aren’t true friends, not like the ones she has made at Saint Sebastian’s. She recognizes that the Stella girls are “…theatrical and affectionate and excited for approximately fifty seconds” (213). This passage shows that she is strong enough to deal with the truth. They are not her friends. They never were. True friends allow you to be your true self. Finding her true friends and letting go of the old fake ones, are one step to Francesca saving herself and resolving her own depression.
Francesca learns that addressing the truth and speaking your truth are powerful allies in fighting the depression she so fears will happen to her, as she does get a taste of it during this school year of her mother’s clinical depression. In a final key scene between Francesca and her father, she confronts him about what he needs to do to help her mom. She has discovered that shortly after her nonno died, her mother had a miscarriage. But because she was dealing with her father’s death, she never was able to grieve either life event. Marchetta demonstrated Mia’s desire to talk about things very well from the beginning. Readers know Mia is an assertive, talkative woman, and this complete shift is highly unusual. A chemical imbalance. Now we know what brought on this imbalance.
Francesca asks her dad, “Did you ever talk about it with her” (220)? Referring to her late father and the miscarriage. But her father replies she always says, “I don’t want to talk about it” (220). Francesca presses the issue, “I bet she wanted to talk about it” (220). Now her father says, “I don’t want to talk about it.” He’s shouting now, but Francesca “[doesn’t] back down” (220). This is a powerful scene because it shows her inner strength that wasn’t there before. It also reveals Francesca’s deep love and affection for her mother, where before there was bitterness and resentment. She accuses her father of “blow[ing] everything off” (221), which is exactly what he does. When he retaliates, she grows even stronger, using a few choice words and then she runs away on a train.
When her father picks Francesca up at a police station safe and sound, he confides in her saying, “I didn’t want the baby” (225). Francesca processes his guilt and sorrow. Now she understands why he didn’t want to talk about the miscarriage with his wife—he felt guilty. This scene gives Francesca a chance to deepen her trust and relationship with her father, which is a reflection on her inner state and her ability to trust herself. All this time, she knew something was off with her mom, with her family, but she couldn’t identify it. It was literally dragging her down into her own depression. Now that she and her family are talking, things improve. The miscarriage aspect of the B-story is what enhances and shines light onto her A-story. One wouldn’t really stand up well without the other. Marchetta skillfully crafted a story where all the moving parts fit together to create one complex and complete picture.
When we finally see Francesca’s mom at the school to pick them up, we know this family will heal and live on in a positive way. It is clear that our hero has learned what she needs to and will thrive from this point on in our minds. The family has learned to communicate better and support each other in a healthy way, even when confronting difficult topics. The first sentence of the first page, “This morning, my mother didn’t get out of bed” (1), is mirrored in reverse on the last page. “This morning, my mother got out of bed” (243). Marchetta shows readers a mother, healed, choosing an inspirational song to play at 6:45 in the morning, and a motivational message awaiting Francesca on her bathroom mirror. These actions that used to irritate Francesca so much now have a different reaction. “…for the first time all year I went to school with hope in my heart” (243). This last sentence of the book shows the emotional journey Francesca has completed. It is a satisfying and hopeful way to end the book.
Adding a B-story is an effective way to enhance and deepen the plot. It is most effective when they mirror each other like Katniss saving Prim and Peeta saving Katniss, or Mia trying to save Francesca but Francesca actually saves Mia and herself in the process. Mirrored plots, where the B-story mirrors the A-story, feel more satisfying to the reader. Just as an actual mirror reflects back what we couldn’t see without it, adding a B-story to one’s plot reveals multiple dimensions that, without it, wouldn’t be accessible. Shine more light into the crevices of stories by adding a B-story.
Works Cited
Cron, Lisa. Story Genius. Ten Speed Press, 2016.
Marchetta, Melina. Saving Francesca. Alfred A Knopf, 2003.
Maass, Donald. Writing the Breakout Novel. Writer’s Digest Books, an imprint of F+W
Publications, Inc., 2004.
Collins, Suzanne. The Hunger Games. Scholastic Press, 2008.
