Monday, August 25, 2025

Does My Character Have to Arc Out of Their Want?


Last week, I taught a class at WorldShift: The Speculative Fiction Writers' Summit on raising the stakes, and I got a few questions and comments that spoke to some complex concepts, which I couldn't thoroughly address because it was a < 1-hour presentation, and they went beyond the scope of the class. These related to the concept of "want vs. need," and implicit in them was this question: What if my character arcs (or doesn't arc) out of their want? And in a sense, by extension: Does my character have to arc out of their want?

The answer to that is, it depends.

It depends on the story, the character arc, and the want.

But first, let me quickly lay out some groundwork so we are all starting on the same page.

If you've followed me for a while, you may know about (what I call) the "abstract want." Most recently, I wrote about it when I did this post on misaligned character wants and plot goals. But in case you are new here, or need a reminder . . . 

Every protagonist (or really, any lead character) should have an abstract want, a motive, behind his or her plot goals. 

The protagonist tries to fulfill this want in concrete ways, and this is what makes up the plot (or it should). 

Friday, August 15, 2025

✨ Your Free Ticket to the Speculative Fiction Writers Summit!


Hey writers! 

Maybe you read my latest writing tip on plot goals . . . or maybe not. But if you did, you may have seen me mention WorldShift: The Speculative Fiction Writers' Summit. This is a free, 4-day online event happening August 20–23 (next week!).

And I have a free ticket for you!

If you are ready to learn from some of the best, and get that novel written, then I have good news: This summit can help you.

Whether you write speculative fiction or not, you will learn loads from experts in the industry.

This free, 4-day online event brings together 30+ brilliant minds to help you:

Monday, August 11, 2025

Goals: the REAL Framework of Plot


Often in the writing community, people define plot by conflict. "Story = conflict"--or so they say. In reality, goals, not conflict, are the true foundation and framework of plot. It's by changing and evolving the protagonist's goal that you truly progress the plot, not by how much or how little conflict you have.

This isn't to say conflict isn't important; it most certainly is. I still consider it a critical element (most of the time). But more important than that, is actually the goal, which is where true plot starts, anyway.

You can't have conflict, until you have an antagonistic force. The antagonistic force is a form of opposition--it's something in the way of the protagonist's pathway. In other words, it's something in the way of the goal. So, you can't have a real antagonist, until the protagonist has a goal.

Okay, already some of you who are new around here, are chomping at the bit to tell me I'm wrong. You want to tell me you can think of great stories where the protagonist wasn't pursuing a goal. She was just enjoying her life, until something interesting happened.

And that's one of the problems with talking about goals in the writing community: most of us have a narrow idea of what a goal is. Too many of us envision big or aspirational goals, but that's actually only one type of goal.

At the most basic level, there are, in fact, three types of goals: to obtain something, to avoid (or stop) something, or to maintain something.

Monday, July 28, 2025

How to Make a Character's Inaction & Indecision Work


Inaction is an action. Indecision is a decision. 

It's often a terrible idea to write a truly passive protagonist, when it comes to the plot. You can have a characteristically passive protagonist--a character who wants to be the laziest person in the entire world, but feels she can't, because she needs to stop the antagonist. This sort of thing often creates a reluctant hero, where the protagonist hopes to quickly defeat the antagonist to get the status quo back, to return to her ordinary, passive lifestyle. 

But when it comes to the plot itself, the protagonist must be an active problem-solver. At least, she should be, if she's going to be a true protagonist. (And if she's not, there is a good chance she isn't the true protagonist, and she's just the viewpoint character of the story.)

With all that said, though, there are times when passivity can work, for a short while, when inaction is an action, and when indecision is a decision.

These moments are certainly exceptions, and not rules.

Monday, July 14, 2025

Writing 2 Distinct Turns at the End of an Act


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.


2 Distinct Turns at the End of an Act

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.

This changes Hamilton's objective. His focus for the second quarter is to win the war by helping Washington (specifically, he wants to do this by being in command). 

As we get to the middle, the midpoint, there are two separate and distinct key moments.

Hamilton successfully leads men to win the war--completing that objective--in "Yorktown."

This "ends" that quarter.


But his new goal for the third quarter doesn't show up until "Non-stop," where Washington asks him to be the Secretary of the Treasury--this kicks off the next quarter. Hamilton will be focused on doing this job, while Jefferson and Madison act as his (act-level) antagonists.

One moment ends the previous quarter.

And two songs later, another moment starts the next.

Lin-Manuel Miranda decided to slice the play after "Non-stop" for the intermission. Notice this is in contrast to my Hunger Games example, where Collins sliced it at Plot Point 1. (But it's similar to where she sliced it after Plot Point 2.) See below:



VS.



It's simply a matter of where the writer chose to put in the break (and I'm betting percentages had something to do with it 😉).

In these examples, both Katniss and Hamilton have completed their objectives, and there is a space, an "interlude" (the falling action in these cases) before their new objectives form. In these examples, these spaces are rather noticeable--as they have scenes in between.

In other stories, this sort of thing can still happen, but they just happen more closely together, and less obviously.

At the midpoint of Star Wars: A New Hope, Obi-Wan and Luke go to Alderaan. But it's gone.

This arguably officially ends the second quarter. The goal is abandoned, because the planet no longer exists.

A tractor beam pulls the Millennium Falcon onto the Death Star, and Luke learns the princess is here.

This kicks off the next quarter. Luke's goal for the third quarter is to rescue Leia.

The space between these moments in A New Hope is more intense and exciting, so it's easier to lump them together when talking about the midpoint--and I don't think that is a problem at all.

But I want to point out these are two different moments.

In contrast, Plot Point 1 of Hamilton happens in one moment, in one scene.

Both approaches are acceptable. 

Often when there are two distinct moments, spread apart by scenes, what's actually happening is this: a falling action is getting extra attention as it splits up these moments. (As shown in my diagrams above.)

And it's worth keeping in mind, that the falling action is often where character reactions happen. The character reacts to whatever major moment happened that shifted her current objective.

In my first example, Katniss's--well, and Peeta's--crowning moment of preparation is their interviews.

After this, Katniss reacts to what just happened, then she gets ready to enter the Games.

The bloodbath kicks us off.

At the end of Act II, the Careers' supplies have been attacked, and Katniss is unable to save Rue--this is that peak "climax." In the falling action, she reacts. She mourns Rue.

The announcement about two victors is made, and this snaps her out of it, giving her a new objective--this kicks off the next rising action.

The midpoint of Hamilton is the same way.

Hamilton leads his men to victory--the revolution is a success.

Then characters react. There are church bells ringing, people singing drinking songs, King George gets his own song with his reaction, followed by Hamilton and Burr singing about building a new country to their children--this is all falling action. The "valley," so to speak.

"Non-stop" has the turn that primes us for the next climb.



It may not always map out perfectly this way.

Luke and Obi-Wan barely have a moment to react to Alderaan (and the Death Star), before the tractor beam hits. This leads to a more intense "interlude," that works just as well. So I'm not necessarily saying we always need "downtime" between these two distinct moments.


Where This Most Commonly Happens

Some of these concepts may sound vaguely familiar to some of you. . . .

This is because many approaches teach writers to give Plot Point 2 a noticeable falling action, frequently referred to as "The Dark Night of the Soul" (courtesy of Save the Cat!). They remark that Plot Point 2 is a major loss, and that the character then reacts to it for at least a scene, if not longer. Then something comes along and snaps the character back into action (leading to a new objective)(In Save the Cat! this is called "Break into Three").

This is often such a noticeable "interlude," that on some level, people recognize or even name these moments. So in Save the Cat! it looks like this . . . 

"All is Lost" is the climactic peak.

"Dark Night of the Soul" is the falling action.

"Break into Three" is the kickoff that starts Act III.


This isn't to say, though, that you can't distinctly split these moments elsewhere, in a different act. Obviously The Hunger Games and Hamilton show you can. 

This also obviously doesn't mean it always has to hit a peak with a major loss. Hamilton helps win the war, which is a major victory at the midpoint. 

Often these "interludes" show up when an objective is achieved or abandoned, and the character doesn't yet have a new, major plot goal to act on.

This also isn't to say that you have to distinctly split these moments up to have a noticeable falling action. A character may get a new plan or objective at the peak, then still take a moment to react, before officially starting the next climb (and running into an antagonistic force). 

With that said, though, often something will still come along that refines or reframes their current goal or plan.

For example, at the midpoint of The Lion King, Scar kills Mufasa and blames it on Simba. Simba's goal shifts in one moment; Scar suggests he runs away and never return, and Simba aims to do just that. Simba hits the bottom of his "valley" when he is lying unconscious in the desert. Timon and Pumba are the "something" that comes along and refines his current objective. Not only is Simba going to run away from home, but he's going to turn his back on it and live the Hakuna Matata lifestyle.


But to be honest, some of these moments can start to blur together . . . which is why they are so often lumped together.

I wouldn't stress too much about perfectly slicing, dicing, and categorizing the pieces.

What's usually really a problem is if there isn't any kind of major turn at the end of an act, and no clear goal for the next act.

Rather than worry if you have too many turns at the end of an act, it's more of a concern if you don't have any.

Still, I've been wanting to do this post and point out that in some cases, these are two, distinct, significant moments. And that's okay. And it's still worth covering and looking at them, because it may help you better understand and write your own story (as well as understand other stories better).

That's pretty much it. 😊


Monday, June 23, 2025

The Importance of Conveying Character Plans


Character plans may sound like kind of a boring topic to cover; they aren't as exciting as character goals, antagonists, conflicts, or stakes, but they are often still critical to communicate to your audience. In fact, conveying a character's plans will reinforce many of those exciting plot elements and help them show up in more impactful ways.

I consider the primary plot elements to be goals, antagonists, conflicts, and consequences.

And I consider the secondary plot elements to be progress, setbacks, costs, and turning points.

And the tertiary plot elements are plans, gaps, and crises.

Plans reinforce goals and help create a sense of progress.

If a character wants to achieve a goal, but has no plan, then the goal feels more like a wish. It's what the character wishes would happen, but the character isn't trying to make it happen herself. She isn't making plans for how to make it happen.

Monday, June 9, 2025

How Long Should the Denouement be? (Short vs. Long Falling Actions)



The denouement, also known as the "falling action" or, potentially, "resolution" (depending on what approach you use), is everything that happens after the climax. It's where any remaining conflict or tension gets addressed and dissipated, where important loose ends get tied up, and where change (or the lack thereof) gets validated. It's also usually where a new "normal" is established, or at least hinted at.

People mistakenly think denouements are all about ending the story quickly. While some writers certainly approach them that way, it's more important to address what I just mentioned if you want a satisfying denouement.

Recently, a commenter asked me about the length of denouements, and even though I responded, my mind has still been mulling over the topic. Generally, my rule of thumb is this: Keep them short enough to stay interesting but long enough to cover the important parts. (The important parts being what I listed in the first paragraph.)

Monday, May 26, 2025

Misaligned Character Wants & Plot Goals


Over the last several months, I've been writing on and off again about the internal plotline, and I've mentioned how one of its major components is the character's abstract want, which many in the writing world don't really talk about. Many of us were discouraged from focusing on the abstract, and for good reason, but the truth is, some of the most important components of your character are abstract--they exist within the character's mind and soul. 

In order to be effective though, these things have to show up concretely. A character who wants to be free, but then never takes any action toward that, doesn't do much for a story. It also calls into question whether that character actually wants freedom that bad.

If someone wants something bad enough, he will take action to get it. If he doesn't, it's just wishful thinking.

Sometimes, this abstract want is referred to as the motive, but to me, a character can have a lot of motives from one scene to the next. This abstract want I speak of, is something the character wants deeply and desperately, something the character will go to great lengths to get or, in some cases, keep. It's the driving force for almost all of the character's major decisions (and even many minor decisions.)

For example, in The Office, Michael Scott wants to be liked. This is what drives him to hold his bizarre conferences, to do a fun run to try to win Meredith's (and everyone's) respect back, to put "golden tickets" in their paper supply, and to even attempt jumping off a roof. When Michael thinks he's liked and admired, he feels his best, and when he thinks he's hated or rejected, he feels his worst.

A character can have more than one abstract want, but they're usually limited to one or two, sometimes three.

In The Hunger Games, Katniss has two driving wants, which are frequently in conflict with each other--to survive and to save others (particularly the innocent). This is why she volunteers to take Prim's place, why she wants to win the Games, why she teams up with Rue, why she destroys the Careers' supply, why she looks for and saves Peeta . . . and the list goes on, through the series.

Monday, May 12, 2025

Working with Relationship-driven Scenes


As I've covered previously, most successful stories have at least three different types of plotlines, and most commonly they are the external, internal, and relationship plotlines. Often these plotlines overlap, and almost always they interweave, at least to some degree. There are some exceptions to this; for example, you may have a relationship plotline with characters other than the protagonist, and it may even be, basically, a separate story (a topic for another day).

Many of your scenes will likely interweave these plotlines.

A lot of us have learned how to handle the external plotline. The character has a concrete, external goal, and faces antagonism, which leads to conflict. This conflict escalates and escalates in rising action, until eventually the character and antagonist face off in a defining way at the climax, where one or the other comes out the victor (simplistically speaking). Consequences take effect, and we fall into the falling action.


This is (essentially) the plot structure of the external plotline. For the narrative arc. For the acts. And for the scenes. Because story structure is a fractal.

Monday, April 21, 2025

Why You Should Avoid Bored Protagonists (& When Not to)


It's usually a bad idea to have a bored protagonist (or viewpoint character). Often a bored protagonist means a bored reader, and perhaps even more often than that, it means that the writer didn't take the time to think about what the character should be doing. It's lazy writing.

It's also just problematic because it means there is no active, present goal. And/or there is no active, present antagonist. Which usually leads to scenes "flatlining" (no rising action). This will slow the pacing down (and not in the good way), and if it takes up a lot of word count, will bring the story to a grinding halt. A lack of goals and antagonists creates a domino effect that usually results in a lack of everything else related to a strong plot--a lack of conflict, a lack of progress, a lack of crises, a lack of tension.

Perhaps just as bad, is often the character's boredom segues into terrible play-by-plays, where nothing meaningful happens.

Boredom in a protagonist is typically a lost opportunity. Even if nothing "important" is happening in the plotlines (which is something that should give you pause in and of itself), the protagonist could still be doing something minor that is important to him or someone he cares about. This reveals character, and is therefore more interesting than him wasting time doing mundane things or doing nothing. Something as simple as giving him a hobby he loves, is better than boredom.

9/10 you do not want a bored protagonist.

But . . . as always, there are exceptions. These are the 1/10 situations.

So let's go over those.

Monday, April 7, 2025

What is a Play-by-Play? And Why are They a Problem?


What is a Play-by-Play? 

In writing, a "play-by-play" happens when the author simply follows the character around while the character does unimportant things, like get dressed, eat, and do homework. It's like getting a narrative version of the character's schedule. For example:

Jared woke up and took a shower, thinking about the last baseball game he watched until the water turned cold. In the kitchen, he made waffles and eggs for breakfast, while the rest of the household slept. Then, he went to the grocery store to pick up some deli meats for lunch later. He and John were planning on a hike that afternoon, so Jared also gassed up--it was a bit of a drive to get to the trailhead. Back at home he unloaded the dishwasher and emptied the trash. He decided to watch another game to pass the time. John called to make sure they were still hiking, because he'd heard it might rain. Jared said he was still up for it. They decided to leave earlier.

To be honest, I'm not sure at this point if I came up with the term "play-by-play" or if I heard it somewhere. I could only find two sources that use the term, and my usage predates those sources by a lot . . . though I've never done a post exclusively on the topic. Some of my clients also now use the term.

But in any case, can you see or sense a problem here? This isn't story. It's lazy writing. So let's get into why such passages are problematic (and then when they aren't).

Friday, March 21, 2025

Registration Now Open for The Triarchy Method


Hi friends! 

Registration for my live online writing course is now open. 

- Sign-ups are first come, first serve

- I only take 10 students for the course (however, auditing is available for additional writers)

- Classes start April 29th at 5 pm Mountain Time and end on July 17th (all classes are recorded, so if you miss, you can watch later. You can also rewatch the course however many times you want to in the future)

The Triarchy Method is a developmental writing course that is all about strengthening the "bones" of your story (character, plot, and theme)--and you may have heard me reference it in my posts . . . or seen me share some slides and diagrams from it recently. Like these . . . 






In this course, you will learn approaches that will not only help you with your work-in-progress, but with every story you write after--all while receiving personalized feedback on your assignments straight from me. 

Here are what two of my students said about the course:

I have done many courses . . . and I found this course going well beyond most of the others. September has a clear teaching style, and she gave a huge amount of time and effort helping us to work through any issues, and the weekly assignments are fantastic. I appreciated this so much as often writing courses are simply ‘set and forget’ videos with little or no feedback. The Triarchy Method was nothing like that.”

- Sharon M.

"I was hesitant with the cost, but it was worth every cent. Every class brought new epiphanies for me. September is a brilliant teacher and the Triarchy Method is an essential course for anyone wanting a better understanding of story. She will take you on a journey through character, plot and theme that will deepen your understanding of the bones of your story, the three-act structure, and the trajectory of different plotlines across different arcs. I cannot recommend this course enough."

- Kelly W.

This course is offered in partnership with MyStoryDoctor.com, and is $1,747 to take. (If you want to split that up into multiple payments, that option is available.) Prices increase April 15th. You can register here! For more details, see below, or go to this page.

**UPDATE: The class is now full**

If you would like to be notified when registration opens again, send me an email at SeptemberCFawkes[at]gmail.com (or join my mailing list)

Monday, March 10, 2025

Alternative Views of Basic Story Structure


Basic story structure is, well, the foundation of story structure. 

Rising action. 

Climax. 

Falling action. 

You've heard me talk about it all before. 

And if you've followed me for a while, you likely know how I view this shape as a fractal, with smaller versions that exist inside it. One for each act, one for almost every scene. 

Monday, February 24, 2025

If the Relationship is the Primary Plot (A Story), What is the Secondary (B Story)?


As I've talked about several times on here, most stories are made up of three different dominating plotlines, and most commonly, they are these: 

External--this is the character's outer journey. The character has a concrete goal, encounters an external antagonist, and struggles with the conflict to get the goal.

Internal--this is the character's inner journey. The character has an abstract want, and in pursuing that, completes a character arc. The antagonist is the self.

Relationship--this is a relationship journey. The character either aims to draw close to or increase distance from another person (or maintain the relationship as is). The antagonistic force is what is upsetting that. How it is resolved completes a relationship arc.

In the writing community (specifically in screenwriting), typically the external and internal weave together to make up what people call the "A Story." The A Story is seen as the primary plot.

The B Story is the secondary plot. It's most commonly a relationship. In fact, it's so commonly a relationship, that the term often gets used to mean a relationship plot, but in reality, not all B Stories are relationship stories.

Like the B Story, I have some qualms about the term "A Story," since not every book and film has an internal plotline.

And as this post suggests, in reality, the A Story isn't always the external plotline either. Yes, it almost always is, but not always.

Sometimes the relationship plotline is the A Story.

Sometimes the relationship arc is the primary plot.