by Ally Carter
In terms of the three-act structure, it would look kind of like this:
The next line on my storyboard is going to be Maddie trying to track Logan and the kidnapper down, trying to get ahead of them, outsmart them, save Logan. But it’s not that easy, is it? Nope. Eventually, Maddie is going to hit a roadblock or make a mistake. Or two. Or seven. And then that is another plot point. And we go down to the next line on my storyboard.
And so on.
And so on.
Until we reach the MIDPOINT.
There’s a story consultant named Michael Hauge who talks a lot about story structure, and I love his way of looking at the midpoint of a story. Think about it like this: Imagine you’re on a plane flying from Hawaii to Los Angeles, and you’re out over the ocean when the plane begins to have mechanical problems. If you’re closer to Hawaii, you’ll probably turn back. But if you’ve crossed the midpoint of the trip—if you’re closer to LA than Hawaii—then you have no choice but to keep going forward.
It’s not just the midpoint, you see. It’s also the point of no return, and for your story, that really, really matters.
Because maybe up until that point, all your character has wanted is to go home, turn back, return to the way life was. But eventually your characters have to cross that point of no return and know that the only way out is through.
I love this construct so much that at the midpoint of Not If I Save You First they literally burn a bridge.
From this point forward, stakes will be higher. Things will feel more personal. The bad guys are going to be closing in, and the tension will start to boil. There will be more ups and downs after the midpoint, oftentimes with your characters putting some kind of plan in action. (Which, by the way, is my next row of Post-its or line on the chart.)
And then something terrible happens. Because let’s face it, something terrible always needs to be happening. But this something needs to be especially terrible.
Toward the end of act 2 (or the middle section), your characters need to experience a setback so major that people often refer to it as the ALL IS LOST. Or the DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL. But it doesn’t matter what you call it, the key is that your characters have been brought to their lowest point and it doesn’t seem like there’s a way in the world they can crawl their way out of it.
(Spoiler alert: The last act is them crawling their way out of it.)
The break into the last act may be your characters rallying the troops for one last fight. Or it might be your heroine finally asking her former best friend for help. Whatever the case, your characters have been brought to their lowest point—they no longer have anything left to lose—so they decide to risk everything on one last try to achieve their goal.
The final act will usually have two parts. The first—and longest/most significant—will be your character taking action to achieve their goal. In Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, it’s Harry battling all alone, trying to keep the stone away from Voldemort/Quirrell.
This is the climax of your story—the big finish. And in a way, your whole book has been building toward this moment.
After the big finish, you’ll usually want to have a quieter scene or two to show the reader what your characters’ “after” picture looks like. Exactly how much have the people and the world changed via this story? This could take place in an epilogue or not, but whatever the case, make sure you give your reader that sense of exactly how everything turned out.
Maybe your story will fit this model exactly. Or maybe not at all. By no means do all stories have to fit this formula, but that doesn’t mean that formula is a dirty word. Stories in every genre imaginable have followed a structure much like this since the dawn of time.
The bad news is that you still have to decide exactly how your characters and your plot and your world will all come together to fill out this framework. But the good news is you don’t actually have to start from scratch.
DEAR JENNIFER LYNN BARNES,
Are there any plotting rules that you live (and write) by?
When I first started writing, I sometimes tended to forget about plot. I wanted to frolic in character and world, and I’d get so distracted by how much fun that was that I occasionally found myself just waiting for the plot to show up. After doing this for far too many first drafts in a row, I adopted what I call the CHAPTER THREE RULE. In my first draft, the plot has to show up no later than chapter 3. If I start writing chapter 4 and realize that I don’t have anything resembling a plot yet, I backtrack and rewrite the first three chapters so that it does.
Another rule that I live by when I’m coming up with the plots for my book is to MAKE IT PERSONAL. I write mysteries, thrillers, and paranormal, so my plots often revolve around finding a killer, solving a mystery, or preventing the apocalypse (you know, normal teen stuff). But regardless of what genre I’m writing, I want the overall plot to be really personal to my character(s). Having to catch a serial killer works well as a plot, but having to catch the serial killer who killed your mother? That’s better.
My final plotting tip is to think of a book as a series of BIG TWISTS and REVEALS. You don’t need a ton of them. Over the course of an entire book, I aim to shake things up eight times. For each of my BIG MOMENTS, my character realizes something or something big happens that completely changes the direction of the plot. Everything that follows one of these big moments is because of this moment, as my characters grapple with the consequences, right up until the next big twist or moment happens. When I start writing, I usually know three to five of the big moments, and the others I figure out along the way. It’s intimidating to plot a whole book. But thinking of a few big twists? That’s fun!
VERY.
Set a story in a different time or place (or world) and you will likely get a very different story. Can you imagine Harry Potter without Hogwarts, or Black Panther without Wakanda? Can you even begin to picture Katniss Everdeen growing up anywhere other than District Twelve?
Most fantasy/sci-fi/dystopian novels are firmly rooted in their otherworldly settings. But what about contemporary fiction?
I’d argue the same is true there as well. In fact, Not If I Save You First came about because I asked the question “What would happen if two kids were kidnapped in the Alaskan wilderness and a storm was moving in?” If you took away the setting, that book literally wouldn’t exist.
There might not be much difference between a suburban high school in Indianapolis and a suburban high school in Minneapolis—but in those instances it’s the suburban-high-school part that matters. If you take that story and move it to a tiny town in rural Oklahoma where there are ten people in your entire grade, then that story is going to change significantly, right? Likewise if you moved it to an army base or an international school in Rome or a gigantic high school in the middle of New York City.
So the setting of your novel is going to have a tremendous impact on your story, particularly as it ties to world building. But I’ve learned settings can also make a huge difference to individual scenes.
Several years ago, I was watching the director’s commentary of the movie Mr. & Mrs. Smith. (Hint: You can sometimes learn incredibly cool things by watching directors’ commentaries!) Near the end of the movie, there’s a scene where the hero and heroine are arguing about whether to fight or run—but they’re doing it while lying in a storm drain. You can see and hear the bad guys overhead—just a few feet away—all while Mr. and Mrs. Smith whisper and bicker and try to decide what to do.
It’s a great scene.
In the commentary, the director talks about how the scene didn’t work for a really long time. The dialogue was good. The scene was necessary. But there’s something inherently boring about watching two people stand in a room, talking. So he changed the location of that scene to a storm drain with the bad guys lurking just inches away. He didn’t change a single word of dialogue. And yet it was a totally different (and vastly improved) scene.
So pay careful attention to whe
re your stories—and your scenes—are set. Settings can provide humor or suspense or conflict. They can practically be another character, driving your plot forward or providing obstacles that stand in your characters’ way.
In a lot of ways, Not If I Save You First was the easiest book I’ve ever written, and I think the setting was a huge reason why. My characters faced constant conflict, from the man who kidnapped them, from each other, from snow and ice, steep mountains and hungry bears. There was absolutely no shortage of things that could go wrong at any minute, and as a result, I never once came close to running out of conflict.
So if you find yourself running out of steam, look at the setting of your story (or of some individual scenes). Maybe the part where the heroine’s boyfriend breaks up with her would be more dramatic if it happened at halftime of a basketball game—and they were on the court. Maybe the part where your hero finds out he has superpowers would be better if he was actually taking the ACT when his powers kicked in.
It’s up to you to use your characters’ environment to make the story as interesting as possible.
DEAR GORDON KORMAN,
What are your favorite plotting tips and tricks?
I’m a sucker for unintended consequences. I love it when characters start something in motion with the best of intentions and everything snowballs out of control.
DEAR KIERSTEN WHITE,
Are you a plotter or a pantser? What’s your process like? (In other words, how do you write so freaking fast?)
I subscribe to the simmer-and-spurt method: I simmer an idea for months (sometimes years!), and then when it’s ready, it sort of spurts out of me in a mad rush. I do some plotting, but my favorite writing experiences are the ones where I can discover the story as I’m writing it.
First, congratulations! It sounds like you’ve already finished some projects, which is a really big deal, and you should be proud of that if nothing else.
Next, know that this is a very common—and incredibly important—question.
In many ways, a novel is only as good as its stakes.
A PERSON WANTS A THING FOR A REASON, AND SOMETHING (OR SOMEONE) STANDS IN THEIR WAY. Boom. That’s it! That’s pretty much every book ever written in a nutshell.
What’s the best writing advice you ever got?
Holly Black Characters need to want things. And the force of their wanting is what propels a story.
When we talk about “stakes,” we’re talking about the reason. Put simply, the stakes are what will happen if the main character fails.
A book about a girl who starts her own business because she wants to … have a business … is less compelling than a book about a girl who starts her own business because her mom just got fired and the bank is going to foreclose on their house if they can’t come up with some cash.
A story about a boy who can’t find his favorite hat is less interesting than a story about a boy who can’t find the hat that gives him superpowers and can start a war if it falls into the wrong hands.
So, in your story, what will happen if the main character fails to achieve their goals?
Is it that she’ll be unhappy? Is it that his day will be ruined? Is it something that the character probably won’t care about after a good night’s sleep? Or is it something that is going to affect their life for years to come—maybe forever?
The really obvious examples of high stakes come from big epic fantasy stories like Lord of the Rings or Percy Jackson: Fail and the world as you know it ends.
But the truth is, having stakes simply means that if you fail, the world as you know it will end.
What if the love letters you wrote with no intention of sending were actually mailed to the boys you used to crush on? (Like in Jenny Han’s To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before?) What if your covert relationship with a boy from town might get you kicked out of spy school? (Like in my novel I’d Tell You I Love You, But Then I’d Have to Kill You?)
Stakes don’t always have to be life or death. What matters is that they feel that way to your character (and to your reader).
Just remember to always make sure something big is riding on your characters achieving their goals. And when possible, make sure that something is as personal as possible. After all “an FBI agent has twenty-four hours to stop a serial killer from striking again” is a high-stakes story. But “an FBI agent has twenty-four hours to stop the serial killer who murdered her son from killing again” takes the stakes to a whole new level.
DEAR KIERSTEN WHITE,
What are your favorite plotting tips/tricks?
The single best trick I have ever discovered is a really simple one. At the end of every writing session, I go to the next blank page and leave instructions for myself. Sometimes it’s only a line or two, sometimes a paragraph or two, but always very bare-bones, “here is what needs to happen in this next section.” That way, the next time I sit down to write, I’m not faced with an intimidating blank page. I’ve already given myself a to-do list, and I can dive right in! It’s one of the best ways to combine plotting and pantsing. Live in the moment, but have your eye on the next section or two so you know where you’re going.
You can’t. Not always. And sometimes you might not want to.
A cliché is a saying or phrase or action that is so commonly used that it’s not original anymore (and people kind of make fun of it).
There are some clichés that every new author is probably going to use. For example, most new authors will have their characters describe themselves while looking in a mirror at least once. Most people will use the phrase deer in the headlights or butterflies in my stomach at some point in their early work.
You can’t avoid all clichés—especially when you’re just starting out! So if you make them, edit them out and keep writing and try to do better next time.
Tropes, however, are a much more complex subject.
A trope is a plotline or story element that is so common it actually becomes a staple of certain genres. (The hero who is a “chosen one.” The heroine on a quest. Enemies who are stuck together for some reason, then fall in love.)
Tropes and clichés became tropes and clichés because they’re so common. Which means they can’t always be avoided. And do you want to know a secret? Sometimes they shouldn’t be.
In the right hands, tropes can be powerful tools.
Avid readers often know what they love, and certain tropes can become “auto buys” for them. For example, I’ll read anything where the heroine has amnesia, and I’ll watch any movie where there’s a prince in disguise.
Neither of those concepts is super original. (Tropes never are.) But the tropes themselves offer a kind of contract with a reader that they can expect certain things to happen. They’re buying a particular reading experience.
Think about it like having a story-in-a-box kit that contains all the elements that are common for whatever trope you’re writing.
If you’re writing a story about a secret prince, then you’re going to have a scene where he and the heroine meet. You’ll probably have a scene or two where he tries to hide he’s a prince. I’m betting there will be a scene where he doesn’t know how to do something that servants usually take care of (like work a coffeepot). You can bet there’ll be a scene where she learns the truth.
Those are all staples of that genre. Don’t worry that every secret prince story has them. That’s okay. Readers expect them. Readers want them. What matters is how you approach the scenes and the rest of the story.
Perhaps the most important thing when using tropes is learning to walk the tightrope between delivering readers the story they signed up for and giving readers a fresh, new take on a story they’ve read a million times.
For example, maybe instead of a down-on-her-luck girl getting to the end of the movie and marrying the prince, we learn instead that she’s a long-lost princess? That would certainly be a twist on a trope that might please a lot of people.
But what if you got to the end and instead
of the prince choosing the down-on-her-luck waitress, he goes ahead and marries the nasty duchess that his mother likes? Well, that’s a terrible twist on the genre!
Why? Because it doesn’t deliver on the contract you had with your reader. It doesn’t deliver the things that fans of that trope love.
The more you read, the more you’ll be able to identify the good from the bad, and the more you’ll know which ones to use and when. Just know that tropes are not intrinsically bad. They’re just common. And as writers, we have to accept that there are no wholly original stories. Everything has been done before (and will be done again). It’s up to us to write our own versions of it and make it as strong as we possibly can.
As a reader, what are your “auto-buy” tropes?
Marie Lu Characters who are extremely good at what they do. In that same vein, a character with notoriety.
Daniel José Older Monsters and complex political wrangling.
Elizabeth Eulberg Anything music-related, boy and girl best friends.
Julie Murphy Childhood friends turned lovers, enemies to lovers, antihero/villain turned hero, exiled royals/a royal who doesn’t know they’re royal, boarding school … I could go on forever!
Marissa Meyer Love/hate romances and secret identities.
Sarah Rees Brennan Fake dating, magic bonding, revenge spree, wicked lady and innocent gentleman, anything with dragons.
Holly Black Enemies to lovers, con artists, the badass who comes out of retirement, monster girls, fancy boys.
Zoraida Córdova Revenge, enemies to lovers, road trips or big trips, chosen ones.
Gordon Korman Underdog comes out on top.
Rachel Caine Historical murder mysteries! Especially with a twist, gender swap, etc.
Dhonielle Clayton Magical games, hate-to-love romance, love triangles.
I understand this worry and question, but the truth of the matter is you’re not going to avoid every potential plot hole. Especially while writing a first draft. My advice would be to set this worry aside in the beginning. Do your best to answer all the questions your book poses and cover all your bases, but know that it probably won’t all get in there the first time through. Which is totally okay.
