Hi everyone. My name is Brooke and I’m an unabashed pantster. Whew. I’ve finally come out of my panster closet and told the world.

Actually, my process is more like that of a quilter. When I envision a scene, I jump in and write it. My characters take control of the story and go in unexpected directions. “If you can’t surprise yourself, you can’t surprise the reader” is my mantra.

The only problem with these twists and turns is that occasionally they put my story in a dead-end alley. I’m not the first nor will I be the last author to paint themselves into a corner of a room without any windows or doors. Escape seems impossible at first. Is it time to find a hidden trapdoor or for a ladder to drop down from a helicopter, which appears out of nowhere? As tempting as these options are, I’d rather reign in my unruly characters and replot.

These are examples of deus ex machina, one of the most convenient, but laziest, ways out of a plot conundrum. It’s also the oldest trick in the writer’s handbook. Literally translated as “god from the machine,” the term derives from Greek and Roman dramas. Stage machinery would lower a god to rescue the protagonist from an otherwise intractable predicament.

Today the term refers to “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.” We’ve seen this device used in old cowboy movies where the cavalry appears from thin air at the last minute to rescue our heroes or a dead character suddenly resurrects to save the day.

So, what’s wrong with using deus ex machina? It can be effective for comic relief or a surprise happy ending. Some of literature’s greatest writers have resolved a plot problem with this device. In THE LORD OF THE FLIES, critics charge that the appearance of the naval vessel to rescue the boys is an example. However, William Golding did drop a few hints that ships were passing the island, and the boys did build a fire to attract their attention.

The lesson I take from this is to play fair with the reader. If the cavalry is coming to the rescue, insert some hints—not too many to spoil a dramatic rescue from an unexpected source, but enough to be believable.

Now I’m off to rescue my protagonist, who fell off a cliff. Where’s a helicopter when I need one?