The Significance of Plot Structures

In "Save the Cat! Writes a Novel," the premise is that crafting a novel revolves around structure. It suggests segmenting the narrative into acts, breaking those down into detailed beats, and further dividing them into scenes. It even specifies the ideal word count for each beat.

You could easily create an outline using a spreadsheet.

While this structured approach is undeniably crucial, mastering these principles is vital so that you can confidently choose to disregard them later.

The book claims to be “the last book on novel writing you’ll ever need.” I can’t help but be skeptical. If your aim is to write a book like an architect constructs a building, then by all means, follow the blueprint. However, let’s challenge that notion—there are countless story structures to explore.

More than I could detail in this article.

A quick search on Google will reveal a plethora of frameworks, ranging from fundamental structures to some quite intricate ones. Depending on whom you ask, you might receive entirely different responses.

Gardeners vs. Architects

The choice of an act structure largely hinges on your writing style and how you approach your novel.

Outliners will develop their structure before they start writing, while discovery writers will figure it out as they go.

As an outliner, selecting a structure from the outset allows you to craft a comprehensive blueprint of your story. Knowing the common beats can be incredibly advantageous. The best bridges are designed by engineers and architects with precise plans, while the poorly constructed ones are often just a hodgepodge of materials.

Having a solid plan is beneficial.

On the other hand, as a discovery writer, I find the thought of adhering to a strict structure quite frustrating. My approach is more spontaneous—I write freely and revise later, much like Stephen King and George R. R. Martin, who both embrace this method.

I trust that a natural narrative flow will eventually emerge, and I might discover that my story naturally falls into a certain structure after the fact. I may then tweak it to enhance coherence. As I’ve mentioned in previous articles, my initial draft serves as my outline, though I do keep a separate outline that often ends up being a repository for discarded ideas.

Bear in mind that some established beats may not align with your narrative, and forcing your story into a predefined mold can be detrimental. For instance, "Star Wars" draws from various narrative inspirations, but some elements, like a virgin birth, can feel out of place within the broader context.

Sticking rigidly to established norms can lead to frustration when your creative ideas don’t fit, resulting in outcomes akin to “The Phantom Menace.”

If you’re an outliner, consider drafting your outline starting with the climax and working backward. Since stories typically build toward a climax, knowing your endpoint beforehand can be incredibly useful. Conversely, if you’re a discovery writer, this method may not resonate with you—focus on writing until your story feels complete, as Stephen King aptly puts it, “it’s boss.”

Let’s delve into some of the most recognized structures, starting with the 15 beats from "Save the Cat."

Three-Act Structure

We owe this framework to Aristotle, who articulated:

“A whole is what has a beginning, middle, and end. A beginning is that which is not a necessary consequence of anything else, but after which something else exists or occurs as a natural result. An end is that which is usually the natural result of something else but does not lead to anything further; a middle follows something else, and something follows from it. Well-constructed plots, therefore, must not begin and end arbitrarily, but must embody the formula we have stated.”

— Aristotle in 23 Volumes, Vol. 23, transl. W.H. Fyfe.

Thanks, Aristotle. Beginning, middle, end—got it. This has been the foundation for many writers, including Syd Field, Larry Brooks, Blake Snyder, and Jessica Brody.

However, the three-act structure has often been overemphasized. Any structure can be segmented into three acts, which can then be broken down into various beats and scenes, with scenes further dissected if desired. Yet, at its core, every narrative retains a beginning, middle, and end. Thus, nearly every story structure can be articulated as a three-act structure.

Let’s outline its three core components.

Act I

This section introduces the story, including the main characters and setting, and presents an inciting incident—the catalyst that propels the narrative forward. Here, the primary conflict arises, and the protagonist is compelled to take action. Following this, a plot point introduces new elements, launching us into the main story.

Act II

This is where significant events unfold. It encompasses the main body of the narrative, marked by escalating tension and a confrontation that ultimately fails, leading to a crisis. Often referred to as the “story graveyard,” this act is notorious for ideas that falter. It’s akin to “getting lost in the woods,” where, instead of advancing the plot, authors may pad the narrative with filler content. Within this act, another plot point typically drives the characters toward the final showdown.

Act III

At this stage, tension peaks. The crisis reaches a breaking point, where protagonists either achieve their desires or do not. The conflict reaches resolution, concluding the narrative.

As illustrated, the three-act structure is quite broad, which is why writers continuously seek new ways to dissect it.

Four-Act Structure

The four-act structure takes the three-act format and splits the middle act into two.

Here’s a visual representation:

This method emphasizes the inclusion of pinch points—moments where the antagonist obstructs the protagonist's goals, shifts the conflict, and introduces new information.

Seven-Point Structure

I’ve chosen to present the seven-point structure after the four-act framework due to their similarities.

1. Hook: Setup and inciting incident.
2. Plot Turn 1: The protagonist is compelled to act.
3. Pinch: Adversaries attempt to thwart them.
4. Midpoint: The characters gain insights that propel the narrative forward, resulting in a shift in their resolve.
5. Pinch 2: Antagonists retaliate.
6. Plot Turn 2: The protagonists take a proactive stance, often with a definitive plan.
7. Resolution: The climax occurs, leading to the resolution of the conflict and the narrative's conclusion.

This structure is straightforward and comprehensible. It offers clarity without the complexity of numerous specific beats, making it a practical compromise.

Five-Act Structure

The five-act structure allows for the narrative to extend beyond the climax, exploring the aftermath of the central conflict. Acts IV and V, termed counterplay, mirror the earlier acts.

Shakespeare frequently employed this structure, as seen in "The Godfather."

To clarify, consider this example: Act 1—Desire for a fish tank. Act 2—Challenges faced in acquiring one. Act 3—Success in obtaining and setting it up. Act 4—Introducing fish and initial stability. Act 5—A catastrophic failure ensues, leading to dire consequences.

Points on the Map

This structure serves well for road trip narratives, where characters journey from location A to G, with intermediary stops at B, C, E, and F.

However, one must be cautious; if characters linger too long in one spot, it can stall the plot. Progress is defined by these locations, and stagnation can lead to a lack of narrative momentum.

Interestingly, this structure can be combined with others. For instance, in a three-act narrative, the second or third act might function as a Points on the Map sequence. John Green’s "Paper Towns" exemplifies this.

A notable example of this structure is Neil Gaiman’s "American Gods," which he noted was challenging to organize.

"Save the Cat" 15 Beats

As I explored "Save the Cat's" 15 beats, I initially resisted, as I dislike rigid templates. However, even if you’re not inclined toward preset formats, understanding these beats can help you navigate narrative stagnation.

1. Opening Image: Establishes the protagonist's context.
2. Theme Stated: Hints at the overarching narrative theme.
3. Setup: Introduces the protagonist's life before the inciting events.
4. Catalyst: An abrupt incident that thrusts the protagonist into the story.
5. Debate: The protagonist wrestles with the decision to act.
6. Break into Two: The protagonist leaves their comfort zone.
7. B Story: New characters emerge, influencing the protagonist's journey.
8. Fun and Games: The protagonist navigates their new world, facing successes and failures.
9. Midpoint: Stakes are raised significantly.
10. Bad Guys Close In: Conflicts intensify, and the protagonist's flaws worsen the situation.
11. All is Lost: The protagonist faces dire circumstances, often feeling hopeless.
12. Dark Night of the Soul: Reflection on recent events and strategizing the next move.
13. The Break Into: The protagonist realizes what must be done to resolve the conflict.
14. Finale: The climax unfolds, determining the protagonist's fate.
15. Final Image: Concludes with a glimpse of the protagonist's evolution.

For further insight, Larry Brooks’ "Story Engineering" offers 13 beats within the three-act structure.

Hero’s Journey

The Hero’s Journey, prevalent in science fiction and fantasy, typically consists of three acts and 17 steps.

The three acts are called Departure, Initiation, and Return.

Departure: The protagonist is called to action, though they may initially resist.

Initiation: They enter a new realm filled with challenges, eventually gaining wisdom.

Return: Upon returning, the protagonist is transformed by their experiences.

The Hero’s 17 Steps: 1. Call to Adventure: A challenge arises. 2. Refusal of the Call: Initial hesitation. 3. Supernatural Aid: A mentor appears. 4. Crossing the Threshold: The journey begins. 5. Belly of the Whale: No turning back. 6. Road of Trials: The protagonist faces multiple challenges. 7. Meeting with the Goddess: Allies are found. 8. Woman as Temptress: Temptations arise. 9. Atonement with the Father: Confronting inner doubts. 10. Apotheosis: Acceptance of purpose. 11. Ultimate Boon: The protagonist achieves their goal. 12. Refusal to Return: Hesitation to go back to normal life. 13. Magic Flight: The protagonist escapes with their prize. 14. Rescue from Without: Help arrives at a critical moment. 15. Crossing the Return Threshold: The return home. 16. Master of Two Worlds: Balance is achieved. 17. Freedom to Live: The story concludes with the protagonist enjoying life.

And There’s More. Much More

For deeper exploration of structures, seek out "Plot Embryo" or "27-chapters," which breaks down acts into precise segments.

I prefer not to dwell on rigid structures. A useful tip is to analyze a similar narrative once you have an idea and outline from there.

The structures discussed are widely recognized in Western storytelling, but they are not exhaustive.

Kick the Puppy and Build Shoddy Bridges

This is my advice.

I write this not just as a writer but as a reader and consumer of stories.

Books aren’t bridges; their failure won’t lead to disaster. Thus, while it's essential to understand storytelling principles, don't shy away from pushing boundaries.

These structures should be seen as guidelines rather than strict rules.

While templates may simplify the writing process, they can also inadvertently stifle creativity.

Adhering too rigidly to structures can produce a contrived narrative that lacks authenticity. Readers can sense this and often shy away from such works.

Creative writing thrives on surprise, flavor, and artistic expression.

While resources like "Save the Cat" claim to provide a formula for success, storytelling is not one-size-fits-all. Each story demands its own structure and rhythm.

If every architect adhered strictly to the same principles, we would miss out on iconic masterpieces like La Sagrada Familia.

I’ve encountered numerous books that feel rushed or awkwardly constructed, likely due to a rigid adherence to templates.

Ultimately, it boils down to your unique voice and aspirations. These structures may resonate with you, but if they don’t, consider forging your own path.

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