Story Structure Tips for Pantsing-- and Plotting-- Your Way to a Better Novel

I've been yammering a lot lately about the amazingness of plotting/outlining. Most of this yammering comes because, after hearing Larry Brooks speak at the LDStorymakers conference, I read his book Story Engineering and it changed my life. I kid you not. Best writing craft book I have EVER read. I highly recommend you go buy the book for yourself.

Today, let's talk about how learning the story structure mentioned in this book can change your life even if you're a pantser. I know, it seems at odds-- structure? Pantsing? Never these twain have met. Or have they? In essence, pantsing is a way to create a long, rambling outline for your book. I was a pantser for quite a while, and found this to be true. And whether you plot or pants your novel, in the end, we're all striving for the same thing: an engaging, fabulous story.

One of the best ways to do this is using the three-act structure. In order to achieve that story and structure, there are certain plot points you MUST hit. Go watch your favorite movie, and you'll find all of these points exactly where they're supposed to be. Being aware of them can help you either outline beforehand, or guide you as you pants, so your novel can be more satisfying to readers. I'll do a post on Friday outlining all of these points in a well-known book, but for today, let's look at the basics.

There are FOUR PARTS to a story separated by THREE POINTS, and they fit roughly into the typical three-act structure.

Part 1 (Act 1): The setup. This is where you explore what the character's life and world is like before the story starts. You set the stakes-- what does the character have to loose? Obviously, you don't want to ramble on about the random nothings of their life. You want a HOOK-- a compelling moment that hints at the inciting incident and the first plot point. You want an inciting incident-- a moment that can help launch the story. You want specially chosen moments and details that lead up to the point where they get a full-frontal view of how their life will change. And that point is called...

Plot Point 1. Plot Point 1 is where the goal, the journey, and the conflict all become clear-- the first full-frontal view of the conflict, stakes, and opposition. This can be, but doesn't have to be, the inciting incident. The inciting incident is more often earlier in Part 1. The key here to determining that is to look at what the character learns when the inciting incident takes place. If the inciting incident is an intriguing moment that sets the character on a new path that they and the reader don't quite understand, then it is NOT Plot Point 1.

Also keep in mind that PP1 come approximately 1/4 of the way through the story-- about page 100 in a 400 page novel. And yes, the timing is important. If it comes too early or too late, your reader, who has unconscious expectations of when certain moments will come, will either be confused or bored. Moving on, PP1 launches the beginning of

Part 2 (Act 2): The Response/Wanderer. It's important to remember that this is a reactive, not proactive stage. This is where the hero is running, or floundering in some way as he or she responds to what they learned at PP1. It generally covers about half of Act 2, and transitions to the next stage at the

Midpoint. The midpoint is, predictably, right in the middle of the story (about page 200 in a 400 page book). This is where the hero learns something new and empowering in the context of the story. This new thing gives them what they need to start fighting against the antagonist, therefore launching

Part 3 (Act 2): The Attack/Warrior. The character can now jump in, guns blazing, and start attacking, acting the warrior. Here's the thing, though-- they can't win yet. They don't have enough information to defeat the antagonist. They can try, but inevitably they fail simply because they are missing a vital piece of information. And that moment comes at

Plot Point 2. This is where the hero learns that vital piece of information that will allow them to triumph over the villain. It's the moment that launches the final conflict, which takes place in

Part 4 (Act 3): Climax and Resolution. At this point, no new information can enter the story-- it all must have been hinted or foreshadowed at previously. The hero can now take everything he/she has learned and meet the villain for the final showdown. Because of what he/she has learned and how he/she has changed, they are now able to triumph. After the triumph, they have a short resolution time to tie up loose ends, and then their story has come to a heroic end.

You'll also notice two smaller pinchpoints. These are moments right in the middle of Part 2 and Part 3 that remind the reader and the hero of the threat of the villain. They can be small or large, but they also are important to the flow of the story.

So, my friends, questions? Comments? Concerns? Did that help you understand story structure? Is there a structure you yourself like to use that's different than this one? Are you opposed to structure and want to explain why?

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Turn an Idea into a Killer Story Concept: Go Big or Go Home

We all get great ideas for stories. Even people who never write the book have ideas they think will become the next bestseller. And while writers sometimes get asked, "Where do you get your ideas?" the truth is that ideas are a dime a dozen. What really matters is creating a fabulous STORY out of your fabulous idea.

So why am I telling you this? Most writers already know this is true. But while reading Story Engineering (again, I say, READ THIS DARN BOOK!), I realized there's an essential step between getting the idea and turning it into a story. First, we have to turn that idea into a compelling concept.

Uh, isn't a concept the same thing as an idea? Yes and no. Concept takes the idea to the next level. From my understanding of what Larry Brooks said about it, a concept is an idea that asks a question that implies conflict. The answer to that question is what gives you your story, and it often works best if framed as a "what if" question.

For example, the basic idea that got me started on Devolutionaries was this: What if telepathy were a form of devolution-- that when a person with certain pre-conditions cut back their verbal communication, their brain began to change back into an animalistic form of mind-to-mind communication?

There it is, right? The concept! Actually, NO. That was a fascinating idea, but where's the conflict? A concept needs to be a window into the story. It's not going to tell you the whole story, but it will show you the big picture. The idea of telepathy as devolution is cool, but it doesn't hint at a story. How about this:

What if a boy can stop a Government experiment in thought control with his own telepathy skills- saving his own grandfather- but must sacrifice his speech to do so?

Now there is the concept. Let's look at what is included that hints at the story enough to turn it from an idea to a concept. (You may notice these are the same elements I brought up to help you write your query-- a concept statement is a lot like a logline!)

1. Character. We know almost nothing about him. Some concepts will need a bit more, but not much. Not here in the concept statement, anyway. But he must be there-- a person to carry the story.

2. Conflict. He can stop a Government experiment in thought control. Whamo. You've got him versus the Big Baddie, with a goal the Big Baddie is trying to stop. There's just a hint, but can you see all the possibilities of conflict there?

3. Choice. There is a choice the character must make: stop the Government with his telepathy, or keep his ability to speak.

4. Consequences. Again, the stakes are only hinted at-- losing his grandfather, his power of speech, and even control of his own mind (Government mind control, remember?). But they ARE there.

In that one "what if" question, we find all the basics of creating a story. Now you have to ask another question-- is it fresh? Original? A new take on a familiar premise or theme? Here's the thing I've learned about creating a killer concept while writing my next book: Go big or go home. If your concept is like an almost-fresh head of lettuce-- still green, but a little limp and brown around the edges-- peel back those first few layers of "what if" to find the good crisp ideas underneath.

A good "what if" concept will inspire more "what ifs." If your original concept is sort of fresh, but not quite killer, start asking more "what ifs." Dig deep. How could it contain more conflict? How could things be WORSE? How could it be twisted in a different, more compelling direction? You'll find a more compelling concept if you go beneath the surface of your basic idea.

So, my friends, what is your story concept? What do you think makes a concept original and compelling? How can you take your next idea and frame it as a concept before you even start writing? Do you have any tips that helped you turn your idea into a killer concept?

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How to Write Three-dimensional Characters, with a little help from Doctor Who

Okay, folkses, in case you haven't noticed, I recently hit 300 followers! Thank you all! I'll be doing a giveaway of some kind soon. In the meantime, if you're giveaway-hungry, check out Afterglow Book Reviews for the beginning of summer giveaway!

Today, I want to talk about how to avoid flat characters. It's something we hear a lot, but after attending his master class at LDStorymakers, I recently read Story Engineering by Larry Brooks and he had a great take on it. As a sidenote, READ THIS DANG BOOK!! It is absolutely the most concrete, helpful, insightful craft book I've ever read. It kind of made me go like this:

Three-dimensional characters are complicated and conflicted. Whether we like them or not, we root for them to win. In order to have a three-dimensional character, we must look at three levels of characterization. And we're going to do it with a little help from the Doctor. As in Doctor Who.

And yes, I did include a picture of the previous (tenth) Doctor. Because David Tennant is the TV equivalent of smothering something in chocolate. Mmm.

In Doctor Who, for those who haven't seen this masterpiece of sci-fi television, the Doctor is a time-traveling alien. He is now on his 11th incarnation as a character-- you see, whenever the Doctor is close to death, his alien anatomy allows him to regenerate into a new body with a slightly different personality. When I first learned this, I thought the writers were crazy. That means we have to get used to a WHOLE NEW CHARACTER. Right?

Kind of. The Doctor is a multi-layered character, and we're going to explore how that works well for re-incarnating him. Let's take a look at those three levels I mentioned earlier.

Level 1: The mask- what you see

This is the basic level of characterization-- and for some people, it's the only level they get to. It's made up of all the surface traits, quirks, habits, and personality of a character. It's the level the world sees, and therefore it's very important. This is what we see of almost everybody in the real world, too.

This is the stuff most characterization sheets are made of. What they look like, what are their likes and dislikes, what are their quirks, what are their talents and flaws. In Doctor Who, this is the level of the Doctor that changes with each new incarnation. He has a new favorite outfit, new favorite foods, new quirks, and a new personality. There are some little things that carry over, but it's fun to see what a new Doctor will bring to the show.

Like I said, this level is only the first, but it IS tres importante. Without it, you have nothing to base the rest of your character on! But if you want to take it to the next level, you have to explore...

Level 2: The inner landscape- why you see it

All those first-dimensional characteristics are nothing until you assign MEANING to them. Why does a character portray those first dimension traits? What makes him love one thing and hate another? Why does he act a certain way? What is his backstory and agenda?

This level takes things deeper-- it's what allows readers to empathize with your character. If they just see a character turn away from helping someone who's gotten mugged, they will have no sympathy for the guy. But if they learn that he turned away because he himself was mugged and spent three weeks in the hospital because he fought back, and now he's terrified just to be out on the streets alone...well, now your reader gets it. They understand the why behind the surface reaction to run away.

In Doctor Who, this level doesn't change from Doctor to Doctor. He is the last of the Time Lords. He has lost everything, and in a lot of ways, it's his own fault. There is a reason why the ninth Doctor is so hateful and cruel toward an alien creature that's being held captive-- it's a member of the race that helped destroy his own people. Because this level never changes in each incarnation, we still have the same empathy and connection to the Doctor each time he regenerates.

Level 3: The true character-- who they really are behind the what and the why

A character shows his true self through his choices when there is something at stake. This is the level where your character will really take on life. In fact, it is usually the level where the character arc appears-- a character may take certain actions at the beginning of the book that are weak in some way, due to the demons in his backstory (level 2). But by the end, he must conquer those inner backstory demons to show a stronger self by the end of the story. Who that character is-- the actions he takes when all is at stake-- has changed (or perhaps not, depending on the arc), and that's the making of a truly deep character.

Again, in Doctor Who, this is something that stays consistent. Or at least, consistently changes. It was particularly strong in the growth from the ninth Doctor to the tenth Doctor. His true character-- who he is at the core of his being-- is always the same. Or rather, it stays at the same place as it was when we left off, allowing the next Doctor to grow and change from a familiar place as we watch him.

And that's why, despite the fact that there have been ELEVEN different Doctors, he is still just ONE Doctor to those who have watched. His outside may change, but inside, he is always the same person we love and relate to and empathize with.

So, my friends, are your characters three-dimensional? What are some of your tips for deepening characterization? Who are some of your favorite 3-D characters? Do you love Doctor Who as much as I do?

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