Chekhov's Gun

Chekhov's Gun is a literary device, named after the short story writer Anton Chekhov. Chekhov felt that any object put into the story must be used later on, or else there's no point to it. The phrase "Chekhov's Gun" comes from a line from a letter Chekhov sent, "One must not put a loaded rifle on the stage if no one is thinking of firing it."

Chekhov's gun has come to mean a seemingly trivial detail that will be of the utmost importance later on, or an object that the book lingers on just barely, only to later use it to save the day. When properly used, this device can be seen as cunning or inventive, but it can get to predictable levels. In James Bond, for example, all of the gadgets that quartermaster "Q" gives Bond will later be used, with all their described functions, to get Bond out of a specific mess. Due to this happening in every single movie (with the exception of "Goldeneye"), it's become rather stale.

Certain book and TV series are notorious for this; Harry Potter has quite a lot of Chekhov's Guns. In the second book, Dumbledore introduces Fawkes the Phoenix and spends five minutes recounting the many uses of the Phoenix species - heavy lifting, bravery, healing tears - all of which are used in the final scene. Fawkes is something of a Mary Sue that way. Scabbers, Ron's seemingly docile rat, and Dumbledore's "Putter-Outer" are both Chekhov's Guns.

Chekhov's Gun, I find, is best when used in moderation. It's a useful technique, but use it too much and your readers will start poring over every little detail, thinking that everything mentioned will be important later.

A Death to be Remembered

Just as death is a huge part of human life, death is one of the most important tools in a writer's arsenal. Death can be poignant, epic, sad, happy, climactic, anti-climactic, and everything in between, but most of all, death is strong. A message will resonate if accompanied by a death.

Now, death cannot be casually used. If readers feel that a death is mishandled, they could leave the story with a bad taste in their mouths. A meaningless death of a treasured character will leave your reading audience very unhappy.

For death to have an impact, you have to be connected with the one who died. Introduce a character and kill him off the next page. Who cares about him? But once the audience has gotten to know a character, really started to empathize with him/her, that's when it hurts. The bond with the character leads to grief for his/her death, and if well done, leads to strong storytelling.

Sometimes it's the shock of a sudden death that really hits the reader. An unexpected assassination, a sudden and fatal betrayal, will at first stun the reader, then get them searching through the following pages for answers.

Other times, it's the satisfaction of a death well spent: a sacrifice to hold off the enemies just long enough for allies to escape, or a last stand to decimate the enemy's army. If the character dies doing the right thing, it leaves the reader with a sort of melancholy happiness.

Dying the way the character always wanted to go out can leave the reader feeling satisfied too. A barbarian, convinced that the only way to go to Valhalla is to perish in combat, meets his demise battling to the death. A sailor, lover of his ship and the sea, dies happy along with his trusty vessel, sinking slowly to a watery grave.

Sometimes a poorly handled death can kill a story. I've read stories where the best character, the one that really makes the story work, dies halfway through the novel. The rest of the novel feels hollow and a lot less fun as a result.

A villain can go from unlikable cad to despicable devil by killing a character. Consider it a form of villain forming; nothing says evil like cold blood killing.

Death is a fundamental part of human life, and is also a core device in writing. Use it well and use it smartly, and it could transform your story.