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Hopefully by now you’ve spent some time considering your premise, story world, your character’s basic actions and, most importantly, their weakness and moral choice. Because now we’ll define some of the last few steps to fleshing out your character’s emotional and physical story arc. Settle in: this one is a bit longer than the last two.
Just a reminder: This series is not an Outline How-to; this is more appropriately looked at as a version of the Character Q&A. Some writers like to ask their characters twenty questions. Some like to jump right in to the story. This series is just one method of character and premise development.
So, with that in mind, let’s jump into the last section of this series!
Now, I’ve saved this chunk for last because structurally, your book should answer these “questions”, as I’ll call them, in a linear fashion.
To recap a bit, you’ve already determined your character’s weakness, what they look like as a changed person, and the moral choice they must make at the end. Now we must determine just how the character gets to that moral choice.
It begins with a desire. What your character wants, what propels the plot and provides a catalyst for the entire story. Maybe your character wants to save a friend/a lover/a parent from an evil dictator. Maybe your character wants a degree in Astronomy from a prestigious university. Maybe your character wants to confess his love for the girl of his dreams.
Note: This is called a desire because it’s not necessarily the same as what your character need. The desire is the superficial goal. It’s what your character thinks he or she needs more than anything else, what will ultimately make them happy. It’s often the clash between desire and need that makes for interesting internal conflict.
Your character’s need should be reflective of your character’s weakness. If, as I proposed last time, your character’s weakness is a fear of doing anything risky due to a loved one’s death, but her desire is to visit a friend who lives halfway across the world in a strange country, then your character needs to overcome her fear of doing anything that might be considered a risk to get there. This is, hopefully, much easier said than done.
So to fulfill her desire, your character now needs a plan. Maybe getting across the world is easy, but finding her friend once she’s landed in the foreign country is where things get tricky, and she must hire a guide, or negotiate a method of transportation that could go horribly wrong. Her plan is the catalyst – employing it is where things will ultimately test your character’s weakness, and force her to confront it.
And plans often go wrong because of the opponents that stand in your character’s way. Determine your character’s opponent by asking: who are the people who are making your characters’ life difficult? Who is testing your character’s weakness and emotional limits? How do they make the plan next to impossible to follow through?
Note: I’m intentionally not using the word antagonist here because, while antagonists are always opponents (when they’re human), opponents are not always antagonists. An Antogonist could be considered an active opponent – someone who actively opposes your character and sabotages the plan intentionally, whereas some opponents don’t even realize they’re in the way. They just exist. For example: your Main Character wants to date Person A, but Person A is dating Person B. Person B is an opponent. Even if he or she never does more than act as a really great romantic partner to Person A – even if he or she never actively opposes the MC, they are in the way of the MC’s goal, and therefore an opponent. The Antagonist in that scenario is actually Person A – because she actively wants the opposite thing to the MC, and rebuffs the MC’s advances because of that opposing desire.
Whew. Still with me? Okay, let’s move on.
Your character is enacting her plan. She’s facing her opponent(s). Now comes the battle: the moment when her desire and her weakness come head to head and she is forced to overcome her weakness or fail at everything she’s overcome to get this far. Yes, this is the climax. But it’s also an internal battle for your character where she’s forced to face these things about her that have been holding her back, emotionally and physically.
This should spark an internalrevelation: things are not how they’ve always seemed to your character. Now that she has finally reached her friend on the other side of the world, your character realizes the world is, in fact, beautiful. That she is, in fact, capable of taking and overcoming risks. Your character gains an understanding of herself and her surroundings due to overcoming her weakness – she has found a new balance to her previously unbalanced life.
Now that you’ve determined your character’s desire, her plan for achieving it, and everything in between, sit back and admire your handiwork. As a bonus, ask yourself, what does it all mean? I know my premise, I know what my character is trying to achieve. Now what’s the theme of my story? The theme for the story above could be something along the lines of “Taking risks results in a more fulfilled quality of life” or something to that effect.
It’s up to you to take everything I’ve talked about in the last three posts (linked at the top of this post, important concepts in bold) and assemble your own worksheet. You might find some things I’ve talked about particularly enlightening, and some of them not so much. Take what you need! Create a development worksheet that works for you. That’s the beauty of story development and storytelling. There are lots of methods, but only you can determine the right method for you and your writing. This one just happens to be mine.
I hope this has been useful! As always, I love hearing what you guys think and if posts like this are helpful to your process. Now, go forth, and conquer (your story)!
If the writer’s closet of useful tools could be likened to Carrie Bradshaw’s fabu walk-in, masterful accessories such as simile and metaphor would equate to exquisite Louboutin’s and Jimmy Choo’s footwear… exotic word choices would sparkle like Tiffany’s finest… and you would most likely find three-act structure in the drawer labeled: Spanx!
This is my way of saying Three-Act Structure may not be sexy, but once you try it, you’ll wonder how you ever lived without it. What exactly can Three-act structure do for you? I’m glad you asked.
Simply organizing the main points of your manuscript into a structured beginning, middle and end will give you a comfortably shaped body of character, narrative and pace. (Spanx, baby!)
Three-act structure streamlines the creative process, allowing you to focus on great dialog and important story points, not the organization of them. (When you’re busy being brilliant who wants to organize?)
Which part of your story belongs in each act can be defined in enough detail that, once you learn it, you will never forget it. (Can you just give me the crib version? Yes. Read on!)
There are plenty of whole books, which define Three-Act structure and demonstrate how it works. For the purpose of this blog I’m just going to give you the basics. Three-Act structure is a specific way to balance and pace your story. The breakdown is simple:
Each Act encompasses a certain number of pages. This is the pacing part. Each act also plays a specific role in telling your story. This is the structure part.
In Act 1 the purpose is to introduce your characters and orient your reader to the setting and world you imagine.
Act 2 is where your story develops; this explains why it’s twice as long as Act 1 and Act 3.
Act 3 should be reserved for the exciting climax and conclusion of your story.
Act 1: Think of a Knight on a Quest…
Act 1 should answer WHO, WHAT, WHEN and WHERE… but not why. It should install your character in his world in a way that quickly orients your reader. Use Act 1 to identify your main character’s problems and introduce us to his friends and foes. Establish his goals and make us care about him.
If you’ve done your job, Act 1 is when your reader develops empathy with your main character. You need for this to happen… don’t blow it. The transition at the end of Act 1 is the point where your character commits to a course of action and your reader settles into her chair and thinks, “okay, here we go.”
Act 2: Facing the Two-Headed Dragon…
If Act 1 is a Quest, then Act 2 is a series of challenges… sort of like facing a two-headed dragon! In Act 1 your reader has learned WHO, WHAT, WHEN and WHERE. By the time she reaches Act 2 she wants to know WHY.
In Act-1 your job was to establish your character’s goal.
In Act 2.1, your job is to play keep away with that goal.
Just like in real life, adversity creates character. The goal of the first half of Act 2 is to throw a series of try/fail obstacles into your character’s path. With each test your character’s commitment becomes apparant. Each time he fails, you deepen his character and reveal more about him… this is how readers find out what he wants and needs and especially how invested he is in his goal.
Not only will your character come alive through these challenges, but as you raise the stakes your reader will become more involved, intrigued and invested in your story.
The length of the trial and error portion of your story is dictated by Three-Act structure. In the first half of Act 2 you are writing toward the mid-point, which is a mere 25% of your total story.
The Mid-point: It Changes Everything…
The Mid-point can be a down moment – the catastrophic end of your character’s goal. Or, it can be an up moment – a moment of shaky success that’s so tenuous and delicate your reader will be worried that this is just one more thing for the main character to lose.
Just remember, the purpose of the Mid-point is that it changes everything.
The Second Half of Act 2: Rebuild the Character’s Goal…
Depending on your Mid-point you have either destroyed your main character’s goal or you have pushed it to such a pinnacle that it is in jeopardy. In either case, the second half of Act 2 asks “now what” or “what now.” This is where you begin to rebuild your main character’s goal. To keep the reader intrigued you must keep the pressure on your main character. Achieving his goals should be hard and take real grit and determination. This is what keeps a reader in their seat.
You also want to begin to bring your storylines together in the last half of Act 2 so that you won’t crowd the climax and conclusion of your story with loose ends.
The End of Act 2: Your Character’s Darkest Moment
Pull out all the stops and really make this moment count. This is the low point your reader has been worried about for your entire novel. And now you must give it to them. Slam your story down on your main character with all the brutality you can muster and I guarantee your reader won’t be able to stop reading.
If you have built your story to this moment, the hopes and dreams that your reader has for your main character will carry them over the end of Act 2 and straight into the climax and conclusion. They won’t be able to put down your book.
Act 3: The Unexpected and Long-Anticipated…
“Act 3 begins with the unexpected and ends with the long-anticipated.“
Author, Ridley Pearson
What this means, is as you conclude your story, you want to make the ending as exciting and unexpected as possible… and yet you want to fulfill your promise to the reader and wrap up the story they expected you would tell. In most cases, your main character will achieve a satisfying goal – maybe not the goal he started out with, but one the reader will accept as a good conclusion to your story.
Example: staying with my Knight on a Quest theme, the end of my story should involve rescuing the Princess – or in my case – The Prince.
But don’t forget to keep an element of surprise… your reader will be working with you to create a successful conclusion to your story.
My surprise that my Knight was really my Princess will be all the more delicious to my reader.
Three-Act structure is writing with purpose!
For more information, check out some of these books that do a good job explaining Three-Act structure:
King, Vicki. How to Write a Movie in 21 Days. HarperCollins Publishers, 1993. Print.
McKee, Robert. Story: Substance, Structure, Style and the Principles of Screenwriting. New York: ReganBooks, 1997. Print.
Sheryl Scarborough learned Three-Act structure during her 20 year stint as an Award-winning writer for children’s television. Now, a recent graduate of the Vermont College of Fine Arts MFA program in writing for children and young adults, Sheryl has turned her creative attention on writing young adult mystery/thrillers.
If the writer’s closet of useful tools could be likened to Carrie Bradshaw’s fabu walk-in, masterful accessories such as simile and metaphor would equate to exquisite Louboutin’s and Jimmy Choo’s footwear… exotic word choices would sparkle like Tiffany’s finest… and you would most likely find three-act structure in the drawer labeled: Spanx!
This is my way of saying Three-Act Structure may not be sexy, but once you try it, you’ll wonder how you ever lived without it. What exactly can Three-act structure do for you? I’m glad you asked.
Simply organizing the main points of your manuscript into a structured beginning, middle and end will give you a comfortably shaped body of character, narrative and pace. (Spanx, baby!)
Three-act structure streamlines the creative process, allowing you to focus on great dialog and important story points, not the organization of them. (When you’re busy being brilliant who wants to organize?)
Which part of your story belongs in each act can be defined in enough detail that, once you learn it, you will never forget it. (Can you just give me the crib version? Yes. Read on!)
There are plenty of whole books, which define Three-Act structure and demonstrate how it works. For the purpose of this blog I’m just going to give you the basics. Three-Act structure is a specific way to balance and pace your story. The breakdown is simple:
Each Act encompasses a certain number of pages. This is the pacing part. Each act also plays a specific role in telling your story. This is the structure part.
In Act 1 the purpose is to introduce your characters and orient your reader to the setting and world you imagine.
Act 2 is where your story develops; this explains why it’s twice as long as Act 1 and Act 3.
Act 3 should be reserved for the exciting climax and conclusion of your story.
Act 1: Think of a Knight on a Quest…
Act 1 should answer WHO, WHAT, WHEN and WHERE… but not why. It should install your character in his world in a way that quickly orients your reader. Use Act 1 to identify your main character’s problems and introduce us to his friends and foes. Establish his goals and make us care about him.
If you’ve done your job, Act 1 is when your reader develops empathy with your main character. You need for this to happen… don’t blow it. The transition at the end of Act 1 is the point where your character commits to a course of action and your reader settles into her chair and thinks, “okay, here we go.”
Act 2: Facing the Two-Headed Dragon…
If Act 1 is a Quest, then Act 2 is a series of challenges… sort of like facing a two-headed dragon! In Act 1 your reader has learned WHO, WHAT, WHEN and WHERE. By the time she reaches Act 2 she wants to know WHY.
In Act-1 your job was to establish your character’s goal.
In Act 2.1, your job is to play keep away with that goal.
Just like in real life, adversity creates character. The goal of the first half of Act 2 is to throw a series of try/fail obstacles into your character’s path. With each test your character’s commitment becomes apparant. Each time he fails, you deepen his character and reveal more about him… this is how readers find out what he wants and needs and especially how invested he is in his goal.
Not only will your character come alive through these challenges, but as you raise the stakes your reader will become more involved, intrigued and invested in your story.
The length of the trial and error portion of your story is dictated by Three-Act structure. In the first half of Act 2 you are writing toward the mid-point, which is a mere 25% of your total story.
The Mid-point: It Changes Everything…
The Mid-point can be a down moment – the catastrophic end of your character’s goal. Or, it can be an up moment – a moment of shaky success that’s so tenuous and delicate your reader will be worried that this is just one more thing for the main character to lose.
Just remember, the purpose of the Mid-point is that it changes everything.
The Second Half of Act 2: Rebuild the Character’s Goal…
Depending on your Mid-point you have either destroyed your main character’s goal or you have pushed it to such a pinnacle that it is in jeopardy. In either case, the second half of Act 2 asks “now what” or “what now.” This is where you begin to rebuild your main character’s goal. To keep the reader intrigued you must keep the pressure on your main character. Achieving his goals should be hard and take real grit and determination. This is what keeps a reader in their seat.
You also want to begin to bring your storylines together in the last half of Act 2 so that you won’t crowd the climax and conclusion of your story with loose ends.
The End of Act 2: Your Character’s Darkest Moment
Pull out all the stops and really make this moment count. This is the low point your reader has been worried about for your entire novel. And now you must give it to them. Slam your story down on your main character with all the brutality you can muster and I guarantee your reader won’t be able to stop reading.
If you have built your story to this moment, the hopes and dreams that your reader has for your main character will carry them over the end of Act 2 and straight into the climax and conclusion. They won’t be able to put down your book.
Act 3: The Unexpected and Long-Anticipated…
“Act 3 begins with the unexpected and ends with the long-anticipated.“
Author, Ridley Pearson
What this means, is as you conclude your story, you want to make the ending as exciting and unexpected as possible… and yet you want to fulfill your promise to the reader and wrap up the story they expected you would tell. In most cases, your main character will achieve a satisfying goal – maybe not the goal he started out with, but one the reader will accept as a good conclusion to your story.
Example: staying with my Knight on a Quest theme, the end of my story should involve rescuing the Princess – or in my case – The Prince.
But don’t forget to keep an element of surprise… your reader will be working with you to create a successful conclusion to your story.
My surprise that my Knight was really my Princess will be all the more delicious to my reader.
Three-Act structure is writing with purpose!
For more information, check out some of these books that do a good job explaining Three-Act structure:
King, Vicki. How to Write a Movie in 21 Days. HarperCollins Publishers, 1993. Print.
McKee, Robert. Story: Substance, Structure, Style and the Principles of Screenwriting. New York: ReganBooks, 1997. Print.
Sheryl Scarborough learned Three-Act structure during her 20 year stint as an Award-winning writer for children’s television. Now, a recent graduate of the Vermont College of Fine Arts MFA program in writing for children and young adults, Sheryl has turned her creative attention on writing young adult mystery/thrillers.
Organization of a nonfiction piece of writing is paramount. Ideas and/or should build upon each other is an inevitable progression that leads to understanding. For fiction, the outline is the plot structure, events unfolding in an inevitable progression that lead to entertainment. When you use a narrative structure for creative nonfiction, with the curious blend of information and entertainment, the structure is doubly important. Just as the purpose of fiction and nonfiction differ, so do our organization methods.
Yet, I still find that outlining is an effective revision strategy for fiction. I don’t use it to plan fiction, but to revise. And maybe the word “outline” is wrong. Because what I do is record what I have already done.
The problem is the disconnect between what we intend–a fantastic story–and what we produce–a disappointing draft. What is in our heads is always better, and therefore, it is what we remember when we look at at draft. But it is not what is on the paper. We need some way of forcing ourselves to look, really look, at what is on the paper. Did you really make yourself crystal clear at all points? No, you did not. The connecting bits are still in your head, I guarantee it.
At this point, two things might help: feedback from astute readers or outlining, or careful observation of words on the page. Doesn’t matter to me which you use first, but you should use both methods. Today, I’m assuming that you’re going to do the outlining.
You’ll find many methods to outline a narrative structure. To use outlining as a revision strategy for a novel, I like to print out a single-spaced copy and just read through. You must base this outline on what you wrote, not on what you thought you wrote. Read your story!
Most writers have their story divided into chapters, but you can work with scenes or any other natural division. Write one sentence about what happened in each chapter. One and only one. Outlines look at the top level of organization, not the fine details. If you find that you can’t describe a chapter in one sentence, then it’s probably not focused enough yet, it’s a muddy telling of the story.
Once you have the sentence outline written, you can look through:
Inevitable progression: Is there an inevitable progression of some sort? Do things become increasingly difficult for your main character?
Main story v. subplot: Does the main story dominate the sentence outline? Do subplots integrate into the story, creating more tension and interest?
This is the place to make sweeping changes, move chapters, omit chapters, add chapters. This top-level look at your story can reveal structural problems for you to resolve in the next revision.
We’ve determined that plot structure is a type of story structure. Similarly, story structure is a type of narrative structure. However, narrative structure does not have to include either a plot or a story. In essence it’s a kind of umbrella term for any structure related to narrative (which is something pertaining to the semblance of a story).
The work of structuralist Roland Barthes is an example of someone who’s developed narrative structures. The structuralism movement was very interested in creating “a model of a universal narrative structure, or a system of recurrent patterns and motifs” (Wikipedia). M.T. Anderson describes their pursuits as follows:
They sought to uncover the unspoken submerged rules of the way we live. In particular, they studied the way smaller units of meaning congregate and form larger units. They tried to break units down and find the smallest particles of meaning. Then attempted to come up with unified theories of how those units related to one another. How they were substituted or exchanged. They tried to define not just the rules of linguistic grammar, but essential grammar, and narrative grammar. (Anderson)
In his work, Barthes developed five Lexia or narrative codes for narrative. These included: the code of action, the code of connotation, the symbolic code, the cultural code, and the code of enigmas. Each of these codes is used to analyze and break down the grammar of a narrative. These codes, however, are used both on the grand “big picture” stage as well as on the smaller word by word, sentence by sentence arena (Anderson). Therefore structuring narrative is not based solely on plot or even story. A structure can be based upon the grammar of imagery (code of connotation) or a pattern of delayed answers (code of enigmas), and could be applied to the small units (without events and thus story) or the larger units of the whole.
As such, we can now see the key differences between narrative, story, and plot structures. Noting that plot does fall under the umbrella of story, and story under the umbrella of narrative, but the terms are not reversible to say all narrative includes stories and all stories include plots.
In Conclusion
It’s important for an author to know the differences between narrative, story, plot, and structure in order to make the best choices for his or her writing. The prevalent myth within film, literature, and storytelling circles that there is one type of structure and one type of plot, and though the details may change the underlying structures are the same. This is not tr
0 Comments on TO PLOT OR NOT TO PLOT: Part 8 – Defining Narrative Structure and Conclusion as of 10/5/2011 12:35:00 PM
When it comes to talking about structure we need to be careful of our wording. The terms narrative structure, story structure, and plot structure seem to be intertwined and often used interchangeably, but they aren’t the same (as we’ve learned with our previous exploration of terms). First, let’s look at the idea of structure alone. The Random House Dictionary defines structure as: “a mode of building, construction, or organization; arrangement of parts, or elements.” In addition, it says “structure is a complex system considered from the point of view of the whole rather than of any single part.” Here we have the two key elements of structure. First, it’s a mode of arrangement and organization, and second, it takes into consideration the whole. Chea explains that “in examining structure, we look for patterns, for the shape that the story as a whole possesses. Plot directs us to the story in motion, structure to the story at rest”(2). Meanwhile, film teacher Judy Lewis adds “structure is the term used to describe the organization of the story, including the order in which a story is told.”
When questions of linear vs. non-linear storytelling arise, it’s important to realize that plot is always linear. But non-linear storytelling can still have a plot, but the non-linear organization is a choice of structure. Ultimately, in a non-linear story the reader will piece together the plot to create the chronological relationships, as Lisa Cowgill states in her essay on non-linear narratives:
The unconventional structure doesn’t mean audiences understand film in a new way. Viewers understand by making cause-and-effect connections between the scenes. Each beat of information must relate to what comes before and after, even if a scene transcends the chronological order of time. In nonlinear films, relationships created between the various time segments form a specific meaning when taken all together.
Additionally, choices of organization and structure also have to do with authorial intent. “Structure is important for another reason: It provides a clue to a story’s meaning… paying attention to repeated elements and recurrent details … repetition signals important connections and relationships in the story” (Chea). After all, why would someone choose to tell a story out of sequence if not to lead the reader to make a connection between the scenes? Therefore structure is form (choices of organization, patterns) with specific intent (meaning) that can be observed as part of the whole.
Structure as authorial intent can also be taken a step further to reveal audience manipulation. Structural choices, as editor Cheryl Klein points out, is “the author orchestrating the emotion.” Author An Na refers to this emotional base as the root-line in her lecture on structuring stories. She elaborates:
It’s all that darker deeper stuff t
2 Comments on TO PLOT OR NOT TO PLOT: Part 5 – Structure and Looking at the Whole, last added: 9/25/2011
Plot is linear, story doesn’t have to be « said, on 9/25/2011 12:50:00 PM
[...] I put a tweet up this morning that’s been causing trouble. I was summarising a point from Ingrid Sundberg’s series on plots. [...]
ingridsundberg said, on 9/25/2011 3:36:00 PM
There’s been some interesting comments on twitter and blogs about my statement that plot is linear and story is not. Here’s a great link to a blog post from “Nail Your Novel” on the topic: http://ht.ly/6EhFu
This was a very entertaining and succinct way to explain the 3-act formula. I’m bookmarking it for future reference. Thanks, Sheryl!
What a fun & informative post! Love this! You rule, Sheryl!
Reblogged this on Wild About Words and commented:
Sheryl Scarborough talks the Three Act Structure on Ingird’s blog.
Excellent and succint! Love the illustrations. This is what I’m following in my WIP. Will retweet!
This is an awesome post. A much need read for me.
I’m hoping to fold this into my pre-novel planning.