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. 😊

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Mastering Motifs for Thematic Power

Today I want to talk about a topic that for much of my life I could care less about--no really, I could care less about motifs. From me, they always got the metaphorical shoulder shrug. Like, who cares when there are so many other more important things to focus on in writing?

Turns out (as what often happens) I didn't care about them because I didn't fully understand them.

I also feel that part of this stems from the fact that I don't think we do a very good job teaching theme in our society.

It was only when I started really understanding theme, that I started caring about motifs.

Because no one told me growing up (unless I was asleep during that class somehow) that motifs are used in conjunction with theme.

I was only ever told that a motif was a recurring . . . thing in a story. The "thing" can be an object, an action, a word or phrase, a concept, a sound, a color, a--I think you get why I use the word "thing." But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Instead, let's first start with a topic we are all familiar with: symbolism.

What Symbolism Actually is

I sometimes dislike the word "symbolism" because I feel like it implies the need to "decode" something, as if it's a secret message that you can only get if you are smart or "in the know."

I won't say it's never such a thing, but I will say that often that is not the actual point of symbolism.

Mostly, at its heart, I feel that symbolism is a means to communicate something abstract in a more concrete way (which as writers, is something many of us will be all too familiar with). . . .

(Register for The Triarchy Method for full information)

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Writing the Influence Character

Much has been written about the protagonist, but few talk about what's called the "influence character." This is a character whose power comes from his or her influence/impact on the protagonist. The influence character has a different worldview than the protagonist, which helps explore the story's theme. This is often who the protagonist is in an important relationship with, in the B story, or perhaps, viewed as a lead role in the B story. It might be a love interest, mentor, friend, sibling, rival, ally, parent, classmate--almost anything. It's someone who has power based on impact. They will challenge the protagonist's perspective, directly or indirectly, either testing the protagonist's resolve or getting them to change. Typically the influence character and protagonist are linked together, usually by a similar goal.

Here are some examples.

In Moana, Moana is the protagonist, and Maui is the influence character.

In The Hunger Games, Katniss is the protagonist, and Peeta is the influence character.

In The Greatest Showman, P. T. Barnum is the protagonist, and Charity is the influence character.

In Hamilton, Hamilton is the protagonist, and Eliza is the influence character.

In Songbirds and Snakes, Coriolanus is the protagonist, and Sejanus is the influence character.

In Legally Blonde, Elle is the protagonist, and Paulette is the influence character.

This doesn't mean the protagonist isn't influenced by other characters, of course, but these are the (or rather, "primary") influence characters--their relationship with the protagonist influences the outcome of the story in significant ways, and for at least part of the story (if not the whole thing), these two people are usually bound together on a similar course or by a similar end goal. This creates a "we" perspective within the audience. We are trying to do X. We are stuck in the same situation. We need to work together. We need each other.

But this relationship is about more than . . . well . . . just being in a relationship. The protagonist and influence character mirror and foil each other in key ways. Often by the time a writer finishes a professional-level story, he or she will have done this (to some extent), even if he or she isn't aware of it.

Let's talk about the key components of this relationship (concepts courtesy of Dramatica).

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Implementing Theme into Your Story

Recently I was asked to talk more about how to actually implement theme. So today I'm sharing what has been working for me as both a writer and an editor. I hope it helps others too.

1 - Pick a Theme that Fits the Story.

To some, this may sound obvious, but once in a while writers try to fit in a theme that doesn’t actually naturally fit into the story they want to tell, which can make it feel off and wooden in the text. It’s like a puzzle piece in the wrong puzzle box.

A lot of stories will actually naturally hint at a theme just in their premise. More on that here. 

Some stories have more wiggle room, but since theme needs to come out of the story, not be forced on it, the contents of the story need to suit it.

2 - Utilize this Robert McKee Exercise.

One of the problems with addressing theme, is that often teachers teach us the end result/conclusion of the theme, instead of all the other moving parts.

They teach us the thematic statement. But theme itself is broader. It explores a theme topic.

Thematic statement: Love conquers all.

Theme topic: Love

Once you have a topic, you can do this exercise that Robert McKee came up with (you can learn about it and how to do it here.)

Some of you may have seen my recent rendition of it for Songbirds and Snakes:

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Save the Cat! Explained: Beginning

Save the Cat! is one of the most popular modern story structures, used by filmmakers and novelists alike. I admit, out of the most popular story structures, this approach has not been my favorite, even though it's very effective and very famous. But the more time goes on, the more I've come to appreciate it.

Like all the other story structures, I feel like Save the Cat! has both strengths and weaknesses. As I explain the structure, I'll also be sharing my opinions on any concepts I feel could be refined and improved upon. Who am I to think I can do this? Well, I certainly don't have the same credentials of the creator of it, Blake Snyder! But I can back up everything I say, and you'll have to decide for yourself what you think.

But this structure is a great one to learn, in part because it works for so many writers and in part because it includes elements that other structures do not. Also, I know I have friends and followers who have probably had years more experience with it than I have, so I'd like to invite anyone who can refine our understanding of this structure to leave comments, should they so desire.

Again, I'll be referring to Spider-verse--not because I'm obsessed with it, but because I want to again show how the same story actually fits multiple structures--not one, as so many tend to believe. (If I had known I was going to do all this story structure stuff, I probably would have picked a different story, but hey, it won an Academy Award, so yeah!) There is also a bigger point all these structure posts are building up to, which will eventually be on my blog, once I get all the groundwork done. If you are sick of this example, feel free to skip the Spider-verse sections, as you can still get the definitions of the structure.

This structure was developed by a screenwriter, and the title comes from a screenwriting method, where you show the hero saving a cat to make them more likeable, although the method is never in the structure itself (I think it stuck, because that's the title of the book it comes from). The numbers next to the terms represent what scene that term takes place in. If you are writing a novel, you often have more wiggle room. But I've left them as a guideline.

Is Save the Cat! really the last story structure you'll ever need (as the book claims)? I question that sometimes. But I'll let you decide for yourself. For now, let's appreciate and dig into this wonderful thing Blake Snyder created and decided to share to help all of us writers.

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Understanding the Thematic Pendulum

Several months ago, I was introduced (somewhat indirectly) to the idea that the theme in a story is like a pendulum, swinging from one extreme to the other. I wondered about that. And I questioned if it was true.

As a structure, I often picture the thematic thread the same as any plot thread, mainly:

The theme topic is introduced early in the story. Typically, the protagonist starts with a false thematic statement (or a "misbelief" or "The Lie the Character Believes"--all different terms floating around in the writing world for the same concept). And through the course of the story, as they encounter conflicts and characters that explore the theme topic, that false belief is brought into question. Near plot point 2, or The Ordeal (depending on what story structure terminology you use), typically the true thematic statement is revealed and then proven true in the story's ending. In some cases, the true thematic statement may come during the ending instead.

This is usually all manifested through the protagonist's character arc.

But the character arc doesn't seem like a pendulum to me.

I mean, it seems more like an arc, or at least a triangle, like above.

Well, also several months ago, I was using a whiteboard to diagram story structure, but I ran out of room to properly draw the thematic thread line, so, I just decided to draw it like this:

With the zig-zags symbolizing the in-between state where things are being explored and questioned.

A little after running into the pendulum concept, I looked at my whiteboard and kind of laughed because I did seem to unintentional diagram a pendulum effect--a back and forth and back and forth swing.

Okay, hang with me, so prior to all this, I did a couple of posts not directly writing related. One was about exactly why failure is key to becoming exceptional and the other was about how we develop discernment and wisdom as human beings. In order to develop wisdom, we have to have a level of discernment. Discernment can only take place when we encounter opposites. Why? Because wisdom comes from learning how to reconcile these opposites. Now, the opposites may not be direct opposites, but rather, something that varies in degrees from something else (for example, the colors pewter gray vs. steel gray--they are both gray, but we can see the difference).

As more time has gone on, I've thought more and more about how storytelling at its finest is really about imparting wisdom (generally speaking, because there are always exceptions). In some stories, that may be wisdom we already know, but we need to re-hear or have validated to us: Never give up! Love conquers everything! You matter! Other times, it may be new concepts we've never put together before, like how language affects our thinking and cognitive abilities (Arrival) or (for some of us) how when you feed and entertain a nation, they lose their political power (The Hunger Games). Sometimes, the wisdom reconciles things we personally, or our society as a whole, has been struggling to reconcile, such as balancing loyalty to another when it's at odds with our own personal morals.

But in order to arrive at wisdom, you must have oppositions of some sort in play. Otherwise it's not wisdom. It's just knowledge or common sense. The wisdom imparted to the audience is the thematic statement.

Back to the pendulum idea.

As I was looking around, I didn't really see this pendulum idea at work--until I realized I needed to widen my scope from the character arc.

See, when I think of diagramming theme, I think of diagramming character arc. Absolutely the character arc almost always illustrates the theme. But remember what we have been talking about? . . . through the course of the story, as they encounter conflicts and characters that explore the theme topic, that false belief is brought into question.

That's when I realized, it's not a pendulum necessarily within the character (though it can be); it's a pendulum throughout the story as a whole. After that, it all started to fit together.

See, the theme topic will be explored by conflict and by other characters.

Often, thematically speaking, there will be a character at odds with what the protagonist believes, comes to believe, or represents

Jean Valjean vs. Javert
Hamilton vs. Burr
Harry vs. Voldemort
Elsa vs. Anna
The Tortoise vs. The Hare
Shrek vs. Donkey
Dr. Jekyll vs. Mr. Hyde

A lot of times, this may be the antagonist. If not the antagonist, it may be someone who is buddied up with the protagonist.

Interestingly, these characters may sometimes start on the same false thematic statement (Harry vs. Voldemort, Jean Valjean vs. Javert), but by say, plot point one, they start deviating. And by the end, they will be completely different. (Harry and Voldemort both start believing hatred and fear is the most powerful force, but by the end, Harry knows love is the most powerful force; Valjean and Javert both believe justice is the most powerful force, but by the end, Valjean learns and proves mercy is more powerful than justice (a reality Javert literally can't live with).)

HOWEVER, notice that pairings that start this way still have the opposite quality manifested in the story. Harry starts completely unloved, but he is tied to Dudley, who is so loved and doted upon that he is spoiled. Justice has made Jean Valjean cold, but the Bishop shows him mercy.

Because there are more characters in the cast and most of the key players should be interacting with the theme topic in some way, you may have more going on than direct opposites. You may have the theme topic represented by three or even four extremes (In the Hunger Games, for example, it's often Katniss vs. Peeta vs. Gale). Or maybe it's illustrated less in character and more in conflict (although, those seem to go hand-in-hand most of the time).

But the point is that early on, the audience is swinging between extremes.

It's the audience that experiences the pendulum, not necessarily the characters.

Now, what naturally happens in real life (and hopefully in the story), is that before we've gained wisdom on the topic, we do swing between extremes. This is the equivalent of a little kid who is trying to "test the boundaries"--it's not because they are a bad kid! It's because they are trying to figure out where the boundaries are. The same thing happens with us.

So near the beginning of the story, the theme topic may seem to be illustrated in extremes, to the audience. (Don't forget, this is the audience's experience!)

But as the characters have different experiences with the theme topic, they explore it, and we show to the audience that the theme topic is actually multi-faceted and rather complicated when it comes into contact with the "real" world.

Again, as I talked about in those two other posts, imagine this process as learning to discern white from black and then gray.

The starting of the story may seem more back and white, because of these extremes.

But as the characters struggle with the theme topic through the middle, we are struggling to come to a better understanding of it ourselves.

Naturally, we start seeing gray.

And more of it.

And still . . .

Our ability to discern is becoming more fine-tuned. It's less about wide-ranging extremes, but more about subtle differences.

To show this a different way, this happens:

Until eventually we reach that critical moment where the true thematic statement is discovered (often as an epiphany by the protagonist).

This is the moment of wisdom.

Which we then must take and validate through the climax of the story.

In some stories, the true thematic statement may not be accurate of either of the original character pairings. For example, Hamilton tries to control his legacy by never throwing away an opportunity, while Burr tries to control his by saying no to any opportunity that doesn't seem safe. But the true thematic statement is that, actually, in the end, none of us have full control over how we are remembered. Because neither character fully grasps and utilizes this information after plot point 2/The Ordeal, it creates a tragedy in the climax.

Once we validate the true thematic statement, we impart wisdom to the audience, enabling them to better navigate this thing called the human experience.

I still feel the thematic thread follows the typical basic story structure. But maybe now, I'd draw it like this.

The climax being the thematic climax, which, in most stories, will happen around plot point 2 or The Ordeal. But again, it can happen during the ending.

So what can we take away from this?

- Look for character pairings (or groupings) where the theme topic is rendered in extreme, opposing perspectives.

- Illustrate extreme oppositions early on.

- Through the middle, question and test extreme perspectives to help with discernment and refinement. Any characters who embody an extreme perspective will be asked/invited/confronted with things that buck against that worldview, that misbelief. Characters with less extreme perspectives will share and show that perspective to the main players.

- Prove the thematic statement true by the end of the climax, and validate it thereafter.

Keep in mind that everything in this post is a guideline and tool meant to help you and your story. There are successful stories that don't follow this, of course. But, knowing this may prove helpful to you.



Related Posts:
How to Write Your Story's Theme
How Theme and False Theme Affect Your Protagonist (Amanda Rawson Hill) 
How to Add Dimension to Your Story's Theme  
Exactly Why Failure is Key to Exceptional Success 
How to Develop Discernment and Wisdom

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How to Write Your Story's Theme

Theme is one of those elusive words that people often use but don't fully understand in storytelling. Worse yet, there are actually a lot of misunderstandings in the writing industry and community about it.

Here's the deal: Whatever we write communicates or teaches something to the audience, whether or not we intend it to.

During His ministry, Jesus Christ used parables (aka, stories) to teach people lessons, morals, new ideas, and change culture and ideology. Whether or not you are Christian, you've likely heard of the parable of the Good Samaritan. What is the point of that story? What is it teaching? It's teaching that we should love, be kind to, and serve everyone--regardless of nationality, religious background, culture, or whatever. Everyone is our "neighbor."

A thematic statement is essentially the teaching of a story. So for the Good Samaritan, the thematic statement is, "We should love, be kind to, and serve everyone."

Let's look at some other famous stories and their thematic statements (teachings).

The Little Red Hen: If you don't contribute or work, you don't get the rewards of those efforts.

The Ant and the Grasshopper: If all we do is have fun and entertain ourselves, we won't be prepared for difficult times.

The Tortoise and the Hare: It's better to move forward at a steady pace than go so fast we burn ourselves out.

These are old, famous fables with seemingly obvious thematic statements. Often in children stories, the theme is stated more directly. For adult fiction, it may be much more subtle.

Here are some more modern examples.

The Greatest Showman: You don't need to be accepted and loved by the world, only by a few people who become your family

Spider-verse: If you get up every time you get knocked down, you'll accomplish more than you thought possible

Harry Potter: Love is the most powerful force in the world

Zootopia: To change biases in society, you first must evaluate and work on your own biases.

Les Miserables: Mercy is more powerful than justice

Legally Blonde: Someone who is beautiful, blond, and ultra-feminine can be smart and taken seriously.

Hamilton: We have no control over our legacy.

(By the way, I realize a reuse a lot of the same examples on my blog, but it's just faster and easier than grabbing something new. What matters is that you understand the concept, regardless of example.)

Thematic statement: You don't need to be accepted and loved by the world, only by a few people who become your family

Okay, so when we take English, language arts, and literature classes, we are usually just taught about thematic statements.

Which makes it difficult when you are trying to create stories, because if that's the only thing we understand about theme, and we try to write with that in mind, we often come off as sounding "preachy." As a result, many seasoned writers have actually told themselves and others not to write with any theme in mind (which has its own potential problems that I'll talk about later).

A good portion of this next section is information that comes from Amanda Rawson Hill and K. M. Weiland, because they are the two people who got me to have a clearer, conscious understanding of theme.

Okay, so we have the thematic statement, but on a broader scope, we have a theme topic. The subject or topic about which something is taught. It's the concept, without the teaching attached. It's what the theme or story is "about," in an abstract sense.

Here are the theme topics of those stories:

The Little Red Hen: Contribution and work

The Ant and the Grasshopper: Preparation

The Tortoise and the Hare: Pacing

The Greatest Showman: Acceptance

Spider-verse: Perseverance

Harry Potter: Love

Zootopia: Bias

Les Miserables: Mercy (and justice)

Legally Blonde: Being respected/taken seriously

Hamilton: Legacy


The theme topic is broader than the statement. The thematic statement is the specific teaching about that topic.

Note: People often use the word "theme" to mean either "thematic statement" OR "theme topic," which is why it can be confusing. I've done this multiple times myself, but am trying to stop. (Plus the fact my ideas on storytelling are regularly evolving, probably doesn't always help with ambiguity on my blog either)

Theme topic: Perseverance

In a strong story, the theme topic will be explored during the narrative, through plot or character or both. The story will ask (directly or indirectly) questions about the theme topic. This can happen through main characters and main plots, or side characters and subplots, or all of the above.

Let's look at some examples to illustrate what I mean.

In The Little Red Hen the theme topics of contribution and work are explored by having the red hen ask multiple characters for help (or, in other words, for contribution and work) and by having the red hen work alone. She herself is asking questions related to the topic.

In The Tortoise and the Hare, the theme topic of pacing is explored and questioned by comparing a slow character to a fast character, and as the plot unfolds, we see the choices each one makes.

In Zootopia, the theme topic of bias is explored, as a prey animal cop (the rabbit) has to interact and team up with a predator criminal (the fox), and each have biases against the other. But the theme topic is also explored in the society as a whole. Officer Hopps is told by society that she can never be a cop. Nick is told by society that because he's a fox, he must be untrustworthy. In one scenario, Hopps is trying to overcome her society's bias. In the other, Nick has given into society's bias--he will only ever be seen as a fox. Side characters and subplots explore the topic of bias as well, whether it's pitting crime on predators or dealing with nudist communities. Everywhere, the theme topic of bias is being touched on. By exploring the topic from all these different sources and perspectives, the audience is naturally confronted with questions (whether or not they are consciously aware of this). Can you succeed in a biased society, or will a biased society keep you from ever becoming what you want? In our efforts to create an unbiased society, do we criticize others' biases while remaining blind to our own? How can we create a safe, unbiased community? Are we prejudice ourselves?

Pretty deep stuff to be asking in a kid show, right? Disney is a pro at handling theme in their animated movies, so they are definitely one I'd recommend for people who want to study well done examples.

In The Greatest Showman, the theme topic of acceptance via love is explored in a similar way. As a child, P. T. Barnum is never accepted or loved by his society. His goal in life is to give the girl he loves an extravagant lifestyle, to prove to her parents, nay, to the whole world that he's worth something. Through the course of the story, he tries to do this in multiple ways: at his job, he approaches his boss with a new idea; he tries to start a museum; he starts a circus; he wants to present an opera singer to the world so that he can gain notoriety. Everywhere, the protagonist is asking for love and acceptance, and it's never enough.

But side characters and subplots explore this topic as well. Charles doesn't want to be laughed at for being small, Lettie doesn't want to be a freak for having a beard, Anne doesn't like being treated differently for being black, Phillip wants to leave high society but will be shunned, Jenny Lind never feels good enough because she comes from a low class. As we see these characters collide with other characters, and society, we are confronted with questions. Can these people ever find love and acceptance? Will they ever feel fulfilled? How can they overcome society's hate and prejudices? Are they willing to sacrifice family, income, security, personal weaknesses to get there? And furthermore, it seems that as you are finally accepted by one group of people, your are only rejected by another--can you be accepted by all circles? And does it matter if you aren't?

Often when writers fail at theme it is because they are only focused on the thematic statement. And they are therefore not fairly exploring and questioning the theme topic.

But the theme statement is the answer to the exploration and questioning, and should not be fully realized until the end. 

The theme topic of pacing is explored by comparing two characters

Let's take this a step further. We have the thematic statement. We have the theme topic. But in most stories, the beginning will have or illustrate a false thematic statement. (Alternatively, K. M. Weiland calls this "The Lie Your Character Believes.") This is almost always manifested through the protagonist in some way.

The false thematic statement is typically opposite of the thematic statement.

The Ant and the Grasshopper: The grasshopper believes that all he needs to do is have fun and entertain himself, and he doesn't need to work or prepare--that's a waste of time. OR "Having fun is more important than preparing."

The Tortoise and the Hare: The hare believes if he runs as fast as he can, he will easily win the tortoise.  OR "If I go as fast as I can, I'll be most successful."

The Greatest Showman: P. T. Barnum believes if he shows the world how amazing and successful he can be, he'll be loved and accepted by all society. OR "Once you prove you are amazing, all of society will love and accept you."

Spider-verse: Miles Morales believes that by quitting everything, he won't have to deal with any expectations. OR "If I don't persevere, I don't have to worry about expectations."

Harry Potter: Because his parents are dead, Harry Potter begins as an unloved and powerless person living in a closet. OR "Death and oppression are the most powerful forces in the world."

Zootopia: Judy Hopps believes she will fight society's biases by proving to everyone else that a bunny can be a cop. OR "To change biases in society, you must start by criticizing everyone else's."

Les Miserables: Jean Valjean was thrown in prison for nineteen years for stealing a loaf of bread and when released continues to deal with extreme justice, which leads him to stealing from the church. OR "Justice is more powerful than mercy."

Hamilton: Hamilton believes he will create and build and control his legacy by never throwing away his shot. OR "If I seize every opportunity to be great, then I will leave a powerful legacy after I'm gone."

You'll notice I left out the Little Red Hen. Her story is different. From the beginning, the little red hen believes in the thematic statement--that's why she is working so hard, but the theme topic is still explored and questioned (and tested) through her interactions with the other characters. This can be done in modern stories too, but it's rarer and harder to pull off. Remember, I said writers often fail at theme when they only focus on the thematic statement, without fairly exploring or questioning the topic. In The Little Red Hen, it's all the other characters that embody the false thematic statement. They think they can enjoy the rewards without having done any work. Take note that the red hen herself isn't preachy or snooty. She adheres to her beliefs, even though it requires more of her (because no one will help, she has to do more work).

In order for stories like this to be successful, we need to see the protagonist have to struggle through more adversity to adhere to the true thematic statement. Remember how the maxim goes, "No good deed goes unpunished." These stories are more difficult to write, so I probably wouldn't recommend them to beginners, but I'm not going to say no definitively. If your protagonist starts with the true thematic statement, she still needs to struggle, if not struggle more.

Legally Blonde is similar. Elle Woods fully believes she can get into law school and get her boyfriend Warner back, despite everyone around her saying Harvard won't take someone like her seriously. Throughout the movie, Elle is constantly told she just isn't "serious" enough. However, her story varies from the red hen's, because as the theme gets questioned and explored she eventually reaches a point (at Plot Point 2), where she succumbs to the idea that no one will truly respect her, when she says something along the lines of, "All people will ever see of me is a blonde with big boobs. No one will ever take me seriously. Not even my parents." But once she receives her "final piece to the puzzle," she returns to and proves the thematic statement that someone can be beautiful, ultra-feminine and smart, respected, and taken seriously.

So the Little Red Hen and Legally Blonde are rarer variations, but keep in mind that they still legitimately question, explore, and test the theme topic (this is key).

False theme statement: To change biases in society, you must start by criticizing everyone else's

In most stories, the protagonist starts with the false theme statement and ends with the (true) theme statement, a process that typically comes about through the main character arc. (You can read more about this specifically here).

So here is how the theme may fit in, in story structure.

Beginning:
Protagonist believes or illustrates the false thematic statement.

Middle:
The theme topic is explored through plot and characters having different experiences and providing different outlooks.

This will lead to questioning: It leads to the audience questioning. In most stories, it leads to the protagonist questioning. After all, he believes in the false thematic statement, and maybe after these encounters, he's unsure how true it is.

(Also worth noting, the middle may test and disprove wrong thematic statements other characters have.)

The middle is the "struggle" part of the theme, and on Freytag's Pyramid, the rising action. We are struggling to come to a better understanding of the theme topic.

At the second plot point, the protagonist may have an epiphany (the true thematic statement) or at least a turning point, where they now take on, embody, or demonstrate the true thematic statement.

Note: In some rare stories, the protagonist may not embody the true thematic statement, which will result in a tragic end for them. If the thematic statement is true, then they can't "survive" (literally or figuratively) if they don't learn to adhere to it. (If they "survive," that means that what you thought the true thematic statement was, was probably just another false thematic statement, and you got them mixed up somewhere.)

Note: Also, the true thematic statement may be stated prior to the ending, but the protagonist will not fully realize or embody it until the end.

Ending:

The climax of the story is the ultimate test of the final, true thematic statement--does it hold up to the test? Is it proven to be true? If it's the true thematic statement, it must.

In the denouement, the true thematic statement is further validated. We proved it true in the climax, now we must validate and show its effects. This can be very brief--one example--or it can be validated again and again through multiple examples.


It's worth mentioning, too, that in a lot of highly successful stories, the antagonist embodies THE false theme statement or A false theme statement (which is one of the reasons why they fail). So Voldemort can never understand that love is more powerful than death and oppression (notice that Voldemort and Harry have similar beginnings in life). In Les Mis, Javert ultimately can't live with the fact that mercy is proven to be more powerful than justice (which is why he takes his own life). However, this tactic is not a necessity by any means, just something worth considering.

As the antagonist, Javert can't survive the true thematic statement

Now does everyone who writes successful stories consciously know and adhere to all the things I've talked about so far in this article?

Heck. No.

Remember the first of this, where I said even seasoned writers may believe you should write with no theme in mind?

Lots of people write successful stories without even thinking about a theme.

But.

If you are aware of how theme functions, you can use that to an advantage and write even more powerful stories (and it will help you stand out from those that don't).

There are lots of stories that are good that don't follow through on this element of story structure--but I sometimes wonder: How much better and stronger could they have been if they did?

Theme is what makes a story "timeless." This is exactly why Christ's parables and Aesop's fables have withstood the test of time. Why audiences trust Disney movies for a worthwhile emotional and intellectual experience every new movie. Why classics like Les Mis or Shakespeare are still taught and studied today. Because they aren't just stories. They are perspectives on the human experience and teachings that influence lifestyle and culture. They can touch hearts and minds and shift ideology.

And even if you write a story without caring two cents about theme, it will still have a thematic statement. Because every story is teaching something--if only through action and character. But there are dangers and problems that can happen (especially in today's world), if you don't pay attention to theme at all. Take the famous children's story, The Rainbow Fish. I loved that book as a kid (and if you aren't familiar with the story, you can listen to it here), but it has problematic, unintentional teachings. It teaches that in order to have friends, you must give away personal boundaries; that you can "buy" friends; that if you want to be liked by others, you need to give them things they ask you for. Sure, it conveys that sharing makes you happier, but it has those problematic parts as well.

Did the writer intend to teach those negative things? Probably not. But in the story, they are "proven" as true thematic statements simply because of the outcome of the plot and characters.

Typically the protagonist moves from a false thematic statement to the true thematic statement

This could get all into some really deep stuff, like minority representation, biases, culture control, and censorship, but for today, let's leave that for the university classrooms. (Not to mention, for someone learning the craft of writing, it can sometimes feel super paralyzing.)

I will say that even in stories where the writer doesn't completely care for or understand theme, even if the thematic statement is good, I sometimes find myself wondering if the theme is "underdeveloped." But that doesn't mean I still can't enjoy and support the story.

For most writers, theme isn't going to make or break your ability to get published. It's not something I would tell beginning writers to stress out about straight out of the gate. But it is something that can move you from great to phenomenal.

You don't need to know your theme topic or thematic statement to start writing. I would wager, that the majority of writers don't. Often what happens is that a theme topic or thematic statement will start to naturally emerge. Then in the revision process, you can use this article to check, develop, and strengthen the theme.

You can have more than one theme. As you are writing, you may realize that there is more than one theme topic and thematic statement. Lots of stories have more than one. Like I talked about in my story structure series, Spider-verse also has themes about choice and expectations. Harry Potter is chock-full of themes. Legally Blonde includes thematic statements about having faith in people. In some cases, one theme will relate and play into another or help refine it. With all that said, there is usually one theme that emerge as the main theme.

 And that's pretty much what's worth knowing about writing your story's theme. 

"First impressions aren't always correct. You must always have faith in people. And you must have faith in yourself."

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Creating Mini Character Arcs Within a Scene

Last week I talked about structuring scenes, with a focus on plot. Most scenes should be structured like a mini story:

Hook
Setup
Rising Action
Climax
Denouement

But another element of story that should be in your scene just as it is in the overall novel is how your character changes, or in other words, the character arc.

In a single scene, the character arc may or may not relate to the overall character arc.

But there (usually) needs to be an arc of some kind. Psychologically, the character needs to be in some kind of motion.

For a scene, think of it as a mini character arc.  How your character starts the scene psychologically and then how he or she ends the scene, psychologically. They should be different.

Let's go back to my examples from last time. I had a scene where a character falls in love. Another where two characters discover who the murderer is via discussion. And finally, I referred to a real scene in a story--Newt going into his suitcase for the first time on screen.

In each of these, you could say the mini character arc is quite simple, since each character ends in a new state or has new information (which relates to the purpose or goal of the scene).

Not in love --> Love
Not knowing the murderer --> Knowing the murderer
Not knowing which animals got loose --> to knowing which got loose

However, not being something is sometimes not enough. It's often not very tangible. As you work with scenes, often the state the character starts the scene comes from a previous scene, after all, in a story, we are dealing over and over again with cause and effect. So in a previous scene, Newt realizes some of his magical beasts got out, therefore, he needs more knowledge in order to catch them--which beasts got out? Between him realizing that, to him actually going in his case to count them, there are a several other scenes, which also contribute to the state he starts in. For one, he has to figure out how to heal Jacob, and that's quite important (especially for the rest of the scene).

I've talked about this on my blog before, but when brainstorming and starting a scene, it's helpful to ask these two questions:

What is being brought to the scene?

and

How can I take advantage of that?


This can relate to the mini arc. What emotions, attitudes, worldviews, and behaviors is the character bringing to the scene? How will the purpose, goals, and conflicts of the scene affect that? How will they change by the end of the scene?

In my love and murder examples, I'd probably sit down and think about my character and what they bring to the scene. Maybe my heroine thinks the guy she's about to fall for is a showoff. Perhaps he has a reputation she doesn't like. And if I'm going off what I said last time, to make matters worse, it's forbidden to love him.

In my murder example, the protagonist might start the scene already thinking he knows who the murderer is. Or maybe he's at least convinced he's narrowed it down to three people. Maybe his own biases and arrogance have clouded his thinking.

As the scene's plot (or mini plot) progresses, the heroine falls in love. The hero realizes during the course of the discussion that he was wrong. Whatever it is, they end the scene in a different state.

Again, this may or may not relate to the overall character arc.

Let's say that the overall arc in our murder novel deals with the protagonist realizing and overcoming his own biases and arrogance. Then the example I just gave deals directly with that.

Let's say that the love example happens in a story where love isn't actually the main conflict or focus. Instead, the story is mainly about a young girl following her dreams to be an actress, and her overall character arc is about moving from being insecure and looking to everyone else for validation to being secure and finding validation within.

Whatever the case, the mini arc relates to the main character of that scene.

But there are also characters that may arc.

For example, in the scene of Newt taking Jacob into his suitcase, Jacob has his own mini arc. How he starts the scene is different from how he ends it. He moves from ignorance to knowledge.

In some scenes, all the characters may arc. In others, only the "main character" of the scene may arc.

In rare cases, maybe not even that. In a few specific scenes, the point is to show that a character doesn't change. In my murder example, perhaps the character is still convinced, even after the discussion, that he is right--he is still so blinded by his own biases and arrogance (even if the audience may not be). Some characters, particularly those with extreme characteristics, may refuse to change.

For example, in the musical Hamilton, Alexander Hamilton is a hard worker to a fault--he's a workaholic. In the number (aptly named) "Non-Stop," Burr, Eliza, George Washington, and even nameless characters, speak to or touch on the idea of him needing to slow down--but he never does. The point of the song is to illustrate how he never slows down. And ultimately the only way to get him to change is to have him wreck havoc upon himself.

However, it should be noted that even though Hamilton doesn't change internally in that song, he still changes as a character externally, climbing career ladder after career ladder. So even if your character doesn't change internally in a scene, they almost always need to change externally at least.

 As I said at the beginning of this article, they almost always need to be in some kind of motion. To what extent and in what way, may be dictated by the point of the scene, or if not, it may be something you need to come up with if only for within that scene.

As with all the other points of a scene I've made so far, remember that you are working on a small scale. It's completely possible for a mini character arc to take up only a few sentences in some scenes.

So dear writers, how do you like to approach character motion in a scene? Let us know in the comments. ^_^

In the future I'll be talking more about how the character's state and the mini plot of a scene work together, defining more points of each.

Also, don't forget that you have until the 19th (Wednesday) to enter our advent calendar for writers! All of the gifts have been revealed, and you can still enter for the chance to win each one, including mine.

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