Scenes And Sequels: The Writer’s Guide To Stronger Story Structure
Scenes and sequels are tools that help writers control the pace and flow of a story. If you master this technique, you will give your readers a story they won’t want to put down.
Scenes And Sequels: The Writer’s Guide To Stronger Story Structure
Scenes and sequels are tools that help writers control the pace and flow of a story. If you master this technique, you will give your readers a story they won’t want to put down.
by September C. Fawkes
Kishotenketsu is a 4-part narrative structure from East Asia, and over the years, it has slowly been making its way into Western writing communities. From Studio Ghibli's Spirited Away, to the award-winning horror film Parasite, to anime and manga like Demon Slayer topping the charts, and the climbing craze for k-dramas,many Westerners have fallen head over heels for the kishotenketsu (pronounced "kee-show-ten-ketsu") storytelling approach (whether they know it or not). Unfortunately, though, there have also been quite a few misunderstandings about what kishotenketsu actually is, and how it works, on its way to the West.
Lincoln Michel:
Before I could write my first novel, I had to teach myself plot. More or less from scratch. Despite several years of creative writing courses and many years of literature classes—in which I was introduced to many excellent authors and learned many useful things—I had been taught almost nothing about plotting and structure. Perhaps a vague notion that characters should “end in a different place than they start” and occasional references to Freytag’s Pyramid, but that’s about it.
Partly, this comes from the literary world’s aversion to plot, which is thought of as lowbrow or in opposition to more weighty matters like character and theme. Plot is sometimes envisioned as an artificial constraint on what should be an “organic story” (whatever that would mean).
[...]
These ideas are all well and good, although I find them somewhat limiting. A lot of interesting fiction doesn’t really fit this model unless you really stretch the definitions. And anyway, you don’t need me to repeat Freytag’s Pyramid or the Three-Act Structure.
I try to synthesize all of the above. To balance the extreme prescriptivism of Hollywood guides or Hero’s Journey-type maps with the freeing yet vague advice of the literary world. For me, this takes the shape of what I’ll call story principles. Principles are not rules. They are not saying X must happen between beats Y and Z. And principles are flexible, applying to a wide variety of stories across styles and genres (though never, of course, covering everything). But principles also give you something more tangible to think about than “find your voice,” which may leave most writers shrugging their shoulders instead.
[...]
I identify as a Snowflake Methodist on the long run. Glad to know there was a name for my type of writing, tbh
More info about each here
Tag your fellow writer/storymaker/lorebuilder/OC tale developer pals!
I tag for starters: @ultfreakme and @janethepegasus!
by guest poster Oliver Fox
Hang around enough writing craft blogs, and eventually you’ll run across someone bemoaning the lack of diversity in contemporary narrative structure—particularly in contrast to models like Kishōtenketsu story structure. To some, it seems like the Monomyth (or some variant of it) is the only game in town, and it’s a game they’ve grown tired of through overfamiliarity: the characters want something, they leave behind their ordinary lives to go looking for said thing, face obstacles, obtain (or fail to obtain) their object of desire, and return home, changed by their journey.
Several months ago, I wrote an article on "Writing with 3 Equal-sized Acts," where I used The Hunger Games as an example, since Suzanne Collins writes all of these books with that structure. In it, I said this:
I was originally going to avoid bringing this up, but since we are here. . . . Sometimes . . . act-turns can be broken down into two parts--one major moment that ends the previous act, and another that starts the next act. I'll probably do a post breaking that idea down later.
Guess what? Today is that day!
And this isn't something that only applies to working with three equal-sized acts. It applies to any type of structure that is long enough to use acts, including the most common approach, which divides the story into quarters, like this:
One of the reasons I've put off writing this post, is because you have to have a bit of an understanding of story structure and specifically acts. So if you are new here, I'll very briefly catch you up to speed (doesn't hurt for the rest of us to review this either, so we start this explanation with the right mindset (but if you want, you can skip to the next section)).
An act follows the same basic shape as the whole narrative arc. This shape:
The "climax" is also called a "plot turn," "turning point," or "plot point." Because it turns the direction of the story. It's just that an act's "climax" is going to be smaller than the actual climax of the whole narrative arc (overarching story).
At that turn, the character's goal and/or plan to get the goal somehow changes; this helps create the turn--it's what "progresses the plot."
An obvious example of this is the story's climax itself. At the climax, the protagonist and antagonist face off, and the protagonist either gets or doesn't get what she wants, then we hit the falling action.
If you are familiar with other story structure approaches, you may know the act-level turns by other names:
In 7 Point Story Structure, they are Plot Point 1, Midpoint, Plot Point 2, and Climax (or "Resolution" (or part of Resolution, anyway)).
In Save the Cat!, they are Break into Two, Midpoint, All is Lost, and Finale (or part of it).
In the Hero's Journey, they are Crossing the Threshold, unstated, The Ordeal, and Resurrection.
(But if you aren't familiar with any of those names, that's okay too.)
Whether or not you are aware of it, most of the stories you consume follow this basic structure.
Let's talk more about goals. A character should have a concrete goal, of which there are three basic types: obtain something, avoid (or stop) something, or maintain something as is.
An antagonistic force of some sort will come along and oppose that, creating obstacles. The character dealing with those, creates the rising action of conflict.
At a turning point (or plot point, or plot turn--whatever term you prefer), the goal or plan to get the goal, will somehow shift.
There are several ways that can happen.
Goal Shifts:
- The character gets the goal (and therefore soon needs a new one)
- The character gains an additional goal (he can have more than one)
- The character abandons the current goal (maybe he fails or quits)
- The character swaps goals (this could be a change in priorities)
- The character gets part of the goal (some goals can be broken down into pieces)
- The character's goal gets more detailed and specific (ex. he wanted to graduate, but now he wants to graduate with honors)
Plan Shifts:
- The character forms a new plan
- The character abandons the current plan
- The character changes or swaps out the plan
- The character's plan gets more detailed and specific
Let's quickly look at some of my go-to examples.
In The Hunger Games (book version), Katniss's overarching goal is to win (or survive) the Games. But her specific plan (or route) of how to do that, shifts with each act. (And we may even argue, these are smaller goals that fit within the big goal.) For Act I, she's focused on preparing for the Games. In the first half of Act II, she focused on basic survival--find water and food sources, shelter, etc. After the midpoint, that shifts, and her focus is working with Rue to strike at the Careers. For Act III, she wants to win with Peeta.
Some characters don't have one overarching goal for the story, but their goal changes with each act.
So in contrast to Katniss, we have Luke Skywalker, whose goal simply changes for each quarter in A New Hope. First, he aims to get off the farm and go to academy. Then he wants to go with Obi-Wan and become a Jedi (which entails going to Alderaan), then he wants to rescue Leia, and finally, in Act III, he aims to destroy the Death Star.
In both stories, between each of these shifts, is a plot point. For example, the reason Luke's goal changes at the end of Act I, is because stormtroopers attack the farm, killing his aunt and uncle. This is Plot Point 1, and it leads him to choose to go with Obi-Wan.
When the plot point happens--that act's "climax"--the goal or plan shift.
Sometimes, an act's plot point is essentially made up of two separate, distinct, significant moments, not one.
One moment closes the previous act.
And another moment kicks off the next act.
Let's start with the example I used originally, when I first brought this up. Here is what I said:
In Act I, [Katniss's] current plan or "route" is to prepare for the Games. This makes up the rising action.
The crowning moment of preparation is when Caesar Flickerman interviews Katniss and Peeta. This is the last major moment to "prepare." It clearly ends that phase. It is Katniss's last chance to make an impression before going into the arena.
Based on the actual act break in the book, Suzanne Collins views this as Plot Point 1, essentially (that first peak of the story).
However, I want to point out that the start of the next chapter is the Cornucopia bloodbath, which kicks off the Games. This kicks off Katniss's new focus, which is basic survival in the arena.
So one moment ends Act I (the interview), and another event starts Act II (the bloodbath).
The interview completed that "plan." The bloodbath leads to Katniss's new plan. Once she checks what she's got from the cornucopia, she needs to move forward with the next phase: basic survival.
A similar thing happens at the end of Act II.
Katniss successfully blows up the Careers' stash, but Rue dies.
This ends her current plan/route (or we could say, smaller goal). She no longer needs to strike at the Careers with Rue, because she got that goal (though it came with a high cost--Rue's life).
She mourns Rue.
And then an additional turn gives her a new plan/route for Act III: the Gamemakers announce there can be two victors if they are from the same district. New plan: win the Games with Peeta.
I've been listening to Hamilton lately, and a similar thing happens at the midpoint.
But let's back up a sec.
At Plot Point 1, "Right Hand Man," Washington asks Hamilton to be his right-hand man during the war, and Hamilton quickly accepts. This is the major turn of the first quarter, and it takes us into the second quarter.
Notice this is one key moment: Washington asks, and Hamilton accepts.
Here are some of my best tips for writing a Novels Series.
✏︎ Characters: backstory, goals+motivations, personality traits, relationships, appearance, changes across books, character arcs...
✏︎ Worldbuilding: Geography+Maps, Culture, religion, customs, political systems, factions, magic/power rules, technology, weapons, transportation, important locations, historical events, mythology...
✏︎ Plot: Series-long arc, arcs for each book, subplots, foreshadowing, Chekhov's gun(things you must pay off later)
✏︎ Timeline: Chronological events, character birthdays/ages, travel durations, flashbacks, book-to-book continuity
✏ Digital: Notion, Scrivener, Obsidian, Google Docs, Milanote
✏ Physical: 3-ring binder, master binder, notebooks, index cards, sticky notes(for small details), or a corkboard if you're feeling like a detective
“The secret to a powerful series is simple: remember what matters, forget what doesn’t, and let every book sharpen the next.”—QOTD
↓↓↓↓↓↓↓ open for a surprise ↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓
When it's done well, I think one of the coolest things in books is when the structure or framework or style of the story matches or enhances the story itself.
One of the best examples I can give is Harrow the Ninth, and I won't talk about the specifics to avoid spoilers, but the use of second person is not simply a stylistic choice but a functional one within the story itself.
You can think also of epistolaries where the fact that they are writing letters is part of the plot (not simply that they are exchanging information from a distance but that letters are physical things that can get lost or damaged and that take time to arrive or can be intercepted). An epistolary where, because the characters must encode information due to the risk of interception, the reader must decode that information to fully understand the plot would be an example of this.
This can also be done by playing with things like timeline--a story is non-linear not simply because it is a way to reveal information but because the POV character is not experiencing time fully linearly (either due to something like dementia/Alzheimer's or to something like magic).
There are lots of opportunities to think of how your story's structure or style can be an integral part of not only the reader's experience but of the plot itself.
Sources: 1 2 ⚜ Writing Notes & References
ACT ONE: SETUP
1. Opening Image: A snapshot of your story’s world and tone. Who are we following? What’s at stake?
2. Theme Stated: A subtle hint about the story’s deeper meaning or lesson, often posed as a question or challenge.
3. Setup: Introduce your protagonist, their ordinary world, supporting characters, and the status quo. Show us what needs to change.
4. Catalyst: The inciting incident that flips the protagonist’s world upside down. This is the point of no return.
5. Debate: Your protagonist hesitates. Should they step forward into the unknown or retreat? This beat builds anticipation.
ACT TWO: CONFRONTATION
6. Break Into Two: The protagonist makes a decision and steps into a new world (literal or figurative). The adventure begins.
7. B Story: The subplot kicks in—often a relationship or secondary goal that supports the main story’s theme.
8. Fun and Games: The “heart” of the story. Deliver on the premise and explore the stakes through action, conflict, and character growth.
9. Midpoint: A major turning point where everything changes. Stakes are raised. Success feels closer—or failure looms larger.
10. Bad Guys Close In: External and internal pressures mount. Allies falter. Enemies strike. Doubts creep in.
11. All Is Lost: The darkest moment. The protagonist experiences a significant loss or setback.
12. Dark Night of the Soul: A pause for reflection. Your protagonist processes their failure and digs deep to find the courage to move forward.
ACT THREE: RESOLUTION
13. Break Into Three: Armed with new insight or strength, the protagonist takes decisive action to face the story’s central conflict.
14. Finale: The climax. Everything comes to a head in a final showdown or resolution. Your protagonist proves they’ve changed—or failed to.
15. Closing Image: A mirror of the opening image, showing how the world—and your protagonist—has transformed.
A while ago, a follower read my article "Variations on Story Structure: A List," and asked me to elaborate on how The Hunger Games (book) doesn't follow the typical beat percentages, and they wondered if I could maybe go over how to pull that off. I wasn't sure when/if I'd get to it, but . . . here we are!
Now, because I know we have a lot of new followers, I want to make sure we are all starting with the same foundation, first. (If you've been following me for a while though and don't want the review, feel free to skip to the section after this next one.)
Most stories follow 3-act structure, with the middle of the story taking up about 50% of the book. Because the middle is so long, most people will split it into two. So, typical stories look like this:
We could argue that because there are four major turns (or "peaks") that this is really a 4-act structure, but to keep with the language most commonly used, we'll call it a 3-act structure, with Act II split into "Part I" and "Part II."
This typically breaks the story down into quarters (more or less). Each section takes up about 25% of the story.
Yes, some writers hate percentages, but percentages are the quickest, easiest way to communicate when something usually happens in a book, so, we'll use them.
Like pretty much anything in writing, though, the percentages are just guidelines. It's what usually works for most audiences. It's what the audience is used to seeing.
The four peaks are plot turns--they turn the direction of the story. A year or so ago, I realized that this also means they shift the protagonist's goal, or their plan to get the goal in some way (for an explanation of that go here.) When a plot turn happens, the goal or plan has changed (at least somewhat).
These plot turns are also called turning points or plot points, and depending on what approach you use, you may know them by other, more specific, names.
In 7 Point Story Structure, they are Plot Point 1, Midpoint, Plot Point 2, and Climax (or "Resolution" (or part of Resolution, anyway)).
In Save the Cat!, they are Break into Two, Midpoint, All is Lost, and Finale (or part of it).
In the Hero's Journey, they are Crossing the Threshold, unstated, The Ordeal, and Resurrection.
(But if you aren't familiar with any of those names, that's okay too.)
Whether or not you are aware of it, most of the stories you consume follow this basic structure.
To take it a step further, there are usually medium turns in between each of these major peaks (which I didn't draw in that image). These are frequently what people refer to as Pinch Point 1 and Pinch Point 2 (and the inciting incident for Act I, depending on how you view it). Act III's doesn't have one common name, but that doesn't mean it doesn't exist--it's usually the turn that takes us into the climax.
This means that most stories have a turn every ~12% of the story--a big turn every quarter, and a medium turn in between those.
You can learn more about all that in "The 12% Rule of Story Structure."
But of course, while this is by far the most common way to structure a great story, it isn't the only way to structure a story.
In The Hunger Games series, Suzanne Collins instead works with three equal-sized acts. The beginning, middle, and end all take up about 33% of the book.
So it looks more like this.
And when I was learning structure, this really confused me.
I could not figure out what she was doing structurally, because it didn't seem to fit what I was learning. And yet, the story was a huge success.
On the surface though, it's actually a little obvious, because Collins literally separates each book into three parts. I was mainly confused because I didn't know you could write with three equal-sized acts and make it work.
To add to my confusion, the film adaptation of the first book, took the same plot, but restructured it to fit what's typical. And it worked well for the movie.
But let's talk about the book first.
Pretty much whenever you encounter a successful variation, the story has the same pieces, but rearranged.
This is true for The Hunger Games.
The same pieces are there.
They just show up differently.
Remember, at the basic level, an act looks like this:
Because The Hunger Games has three equal-sized acts (more or less), its structure looks more like this.
But because the middle still has a strong midpoint, we could actually view it like this.
Because Act I, Act II, and Act III are the same size, Act II gets smooshed like an accordion (in comparison to what is typical).
But don't take my word for it, let's start breaking this down.
The first thing I want to address is Katniss's goal. In The Hunger Games Katniss's goal stays essentially the same throughout the book: survive the Hunger Games.
This means that what changes are her plans, or perhaps we may say, the route she is currently taking to get that goal. The route is going to somehow shift with each act.
Let's look at those acts and see how everything plays out.
Act I (~1-33%)
In Act I, Collins uses the inciting incident as the hook to the whole story: Prim's name getting called at the reaping. Katniss volunteers and her goal to survive the Hunger Games solidifies. In Act I, her current plan or "route" is to prepare for the Games. This makes up the rising action.
The crowning moment of preparation is when Caesar Flickerman interviews Katniss and Peeta. This is the last moment to "prepare." It clearly ends that phase. It is Katniss's last chance to make an impression before going into the arena.
Based on the actual act break in the book, Suzanne Collins views this as Plot Point 1, essentially (that first peak of the story).
However, I want to point out that the start of the next chapter is the Cornucopia bloodbath, which kicks off the Games. This kicks off Katniss's new focus, which is basic survival in the arena.
Okay, by now you've nailed down how you want your plot, characters, and worldbuilding to be. If you haven't by now, it's a good time to format your document into manuscript format if you plan to move forward to publish in any form.
When it comes to structure, what you're really focusing on is readability. If the format of your book is a slog to get through, if your paragraphs are too long or your sentences are all the same. This will lose readers otherwise in love with your plot.
Dialogue heavy scenes are very fun to write, but pages of dialogue with no action can also be exhausting. Break up your dialogue heavy scenes with actions and descriptions. How does the character's body language reflect their feelings on the discussion? Can you give them a task (picking a lock, chopping onions) that allow you to add to the scene (fumbling when frustrated, dicing harder when angry)?
One mistake (that I've made plenty of times) is to have characters doing things for the sake of doing them. But this is an opportunity to add details that add to your plot (the normally awful cafeteria green beans are delicious, a clue to solving the murder!), character (an alien crewmember is trying to copy human expressions to seem more personable, but his many teeth just freak people out), and world-building and setting (Laura is ranting about her ex, but Tara is distracted by how soulless her rich mother's house seems).
Are your scenes running too long? Do they start in the wrong place? (Two paragraphs on making coffee instead of "She was making coffee when George burst in.") Tightening up your scenes will do a great deal to make your book better.
This is easy advice to give and harder to picture doing, I've found. Everything often feels essential to a scene. Try to tackle scenes with the following questions:
Pull back and look at your pages. Are all the paragraphs the same length? Do you fall into using the same pattern of sentences over and over? (Guilty) Have you used the same word four times in a single paragraph to describe something? (Double guilty) Break those chunks up, what for those repeat words, and vary your sentences. This is going to help so much with issues you weren't aware of.
There are many ways to do chapters, but you want to keep an eye out for chapters that are going too long (giving your reader a visual break of a chapter ending can help shift the setting and tone) or too short (have you accomplished everything you need?) This is not a knock on either structure done on purpose - this is to catch something you may have overlooked.
When it comes to word count, industry standards are always a good baseline to go with. Your audience often approaches a genre with certain expectations, and while you can make a doorstopper of a romance, you will find more readers by sticking to the 80-100k range.
When lecturing on plot, New York Times best-selling author Brandon Sanderson often breaks structure down into three parts: promise, progress, and payoff. These fit beginning, middle, and end, respectively.
While I find this approach too simplistic for what I need to write a great story (hey, I'm not Brandon Sanderson!), it is an excellent foundation to build on. Without these things in place, your story will always be lacking. Without these things in place, you'll run into problems that will lead to bored (or even annoyed) readers.
Lately, I've been thinking about how these principles not only apply to the story as a whole, but how they are useful for smaller structural units as well--acts and scenes.
As always, I'm not going to say using them is vital to every scene or every act of every story.
But I will say, they can be super helpful if this approach resonates with you, your story, your act, or your scene.
Before I explain all that, though, let me give a brief overview of Sanderson's perspective . . . (though I admit to sprinkling in some of my own thoughts along the way).
Essentially all stories are made up of beginnings, middles, and ends. And as mentioned, Brandon Sanderson assigns these three different purposes (broadly speaking of course). The beginning makes promises to the audience. The middle shows progress toward those promises. And the end illustrates the payoff of the promises and progress.
Beginning--Promise
When the reader opens up the book, they want to know what sort of story this is going to be (and if they want to stick around for it). As a writer, it's your job to make promises that convey that.
Sanderson talks about several promises you need to make:
- Genre (The opening of the book should make it clear the story is science fiction, historical, romance, crime, or whatever it is. However, Sanderson does acknowledge the cover, title, and back cover will likely illustrate this as well.)
- Tone (the feel--will this be comedic? Dark? Whimsical? Cheerful? etc.)
- Plot (Will this be a mystery? Travelogue? A heist? A rivalry? etc.)
- Character (Who is the protagonist and what is he like?)
- There should also be a promise of change or conflict--it's a promise that something will be in motion.
I admit that Sanderson uses the term "promises" a little differently than I have on here in the past, but I think it's fair to call these promises (and Sanderson also admits to wanting the alliteration of three P's: promise, progress, payoff).
I want to mention, too, that you are essentially setting up the story here. You are conveying to the audience where and when the story takes place, who it's about, what's going to happen, and why it matters (the "why" would be the stakes). When you look at Sanderson's list of promises, you see they basically cover all that as well. (But I'm pointing it out for something I will bring up later.)
Middle--Progress
When the reader gets into the middle of the story, you need to keep them reading by showing progress on what you promised. If this story is a mystery, you need to show the characters finding clues. If the story is about traveling to a destination, you need to show the characters traveling. If this story is about a competitive rivalry, you need to show each character striving to outdo the other.
After introducing the protagonist in the beginning, you need to show how she is progressing toward her wants, as well as how that character is progressing through her character arc.
You may also want to show "progression" related to genre. If you introduced a magic system in the beginning, you may want to dig deeper into it in the middle. (And you don't want to introduce magic in the beginning, and then have no magic in the middle (usually).)
End--Payoff
This one is pretty straightforward. As the reader gets to the end, you are going to pay off everything you promised and progressed. The mystery gets solved. The destination gets reached. The rivalry ends with one or the other as the victor.
The character achieves her objective and/or completes her arc.
And you'll probably have the biggest, best illustrations of your genre at the end.
This is all simplistically speaking though. Of course not every story ends with the character reaching her destination or achieving her objective. There are absolutely ways to turn the ending with a surprise, or twist or subvert an expectation, but that's beyond the scope of today's article.
Basically, the ending is about doing a good, satisfying job of completing what you started.
As Brandon Sanderson says, ideally you want to give the audience the expected thing (what you first promised), but in a way that is better (read: bigger, more surprising, more powerful) than expected.
Recently I've been thinking about how these same basic principles can be used to create satisfying acts.
If you've been following me for a long time, you may know that I see basic story structure as fractal.
This basic shape has smaller versions of it that live inside it, like a Russian nesting doll.
Not only does the story as a whole take this shape.
But so does each act.
The Hero's Journey Model:
The stages of the Hero's Journey are a good guide to the steps needed to create a realistic character arc:
Source: Christopher Vogler's The Writer's Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers (3rd Edition)
Writing References: Plot ⚜ Character ⚜ Worldbuilding
A summary of the Master Plot Formula by Lester Dent
It is a guide to writing a 6000-word pulp story divided into four 1500-word parts:
After each part check:
Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Plot ⚜ Character ⚜ Worldbuilding