Chekhov’s Gun and Double Duty

Another in my Friday Fiction series highlighting thoughts around writing, focusing on the fantasy genre. This one from the “you already know this” file.

Every writer knows (or should know) the dramatic principle of Chekhov’ Gun. That is, as the playwright Anton Chekhov put it, “If in the first act you have hung a pistol on the wall, then in the following one it should be fired. Otherwise don’t put it there” (Simmons, 1962: 190). Every element in a story must be necessary, and irrelevancies should be removed.

Sounds good, yes? But I mistrust the rigidity of this principle. So-called ‘irrelevancies’ can add colour and backstory to a novel, and even exist for their own sake. Why not? There are no rules for story-telling. As long as the branch spur doesn’t dominate the main line, why not do a little exploring?

That said, Chekhov’s Gun is a good principle to keep in mind. Although I’d alter its intent a little, to something I call the Principle of Double Duty. That is, every element of a story should do two things, not just the obvious thing it’s in the story for at that moment.

I can illustrate this with reference to J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter novels. Rowling is superb at Double Duty: the incident when young Harry encounters the Brazilian snake at the zoo, before he knows he’s a wizard, serves to establish his magical power. It’s a delightful little episode both in the book and in the movie. Rowling stores it away and brings it back out in the second novel, when we discover Harry’s ability to talk to snakes (Parseltongue) is uncommon and associated with evil. Harry’s Parseltongue enables him to enter the Chamber of Secrets and leads to his eventual victory over a pseudo-Voldemort.

And there’s Triple-Duty when we discover, many books on, that Harry is a Parseltongue because he’s one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes, imbued with a piece of Voldemort himself – which is why, in order to kill Voldemort, Harry has to die. All foreshadowed by the incident in the zoo back at the beginning of the first book.

This is plotting brilliance, and we should not be afraid to experiment with it as writers. Creating this sort of complexity both echoes the cascade of life and pleases the reader greatly. The Harry Potter books thrill children and adults alike because of their intricate, puzzle-like nature.

Of course, you can’t write like this unless you either plan ahead or have a very strong sense of your story (and a good memory). It’s said that Rowling knew how her series was going to end even as she started. While such meticulous planning can be restrictive, it’s also immensely satisfying to read. Chekhov’s Gun? Don’t know I’d follow it as a hard-and-fast rule. But Double Duty? I try to use this principle whenever I can.