Tag Archives: story-structure

Story-Structure Checklist

Ticked off items

Story Checklist:

A story checklist helps to concentrate our attention on important aspects of story construction. Here is one on story structure, once more, gleaned from Michael Hauge’s book, Writing Screenplays that Sell.

1. Does each scene, event, and character contribute to the protagonist’s outer motivation.
The beginning of the story poses an overall question in the viewer’s/reader’s mind that will be answered by the end of the story. In The Matrix, for example, the overall story question is; Is Neo The One?

2. Is each hurdle and obstacle in the protagonist’s path to her goal, greater than the last one? In The Matrix, Neo’s journey is strewn with obstacles—from not knowing how to fight, from a lack of self-belief, to finally being shot in the chest by agent Smith.

3. Does the pace of your story accelerate to the climax? In the third act of the The Karate Kid, the scenes are spaced closer and closer together—reconciling with Ali, being admitted to the tournament, participating in the initial matches, suffering a broken knee, and taking part in the final match.

4. Is the emotional through line made up of peaks and valleys? In The Karate Kid, the tournament scenes are interspersed with quieter scenes of plotting by the Cobras, coaching, and fixing Daniel’s leg.

5. Is your story chock-full of anticipation? The karate tournament, which we know about from the start, the fights with Johnny, the anticipated attacks after the party, all add to the overall sense of anticipation in The Karate Kid.

6. Are there surprises and reversals to our anticipation? In The Matrix, our expectation that Neo is indeed, The One, undergoes several reversals when he fails to jump across buildings, or when his meeting with the Oracle seems to indicate the contrary.

7. Does the story create curiosity? In The Karate Kid, we wonder how on earth Mr. Miyagi will manage to teach Daniel the requisite skills to stand up to his brutal opponent.

8. Are your characters, timing, and situation credible? The three month period provides enough time for Daniel to acquire fighting skills under the expert tutelage of Mr. Miyagi, but the time is adroitly condensed by the screenwriter so that the audience can stay involved.

9. Are the events in the story sufficiently foreshadowed? Q. How can we possibly believe that a boy with a broken knee and three months training can win a tough tournament? A. By introducing a secret weapon in the form of the Crane Stance and Mr. Miyagi’s healing abilities.

10. Does your story have an effective opening and ending? The Karate Kid uses a new arrival opening from New Jersey to Van Nuys to introduce Daniel, which is appropriate to the slow build up of the story. The final match, a do-or-die confrontation between the protagonist and antagonist, is an appropriate climax which settles the overall question established early in the story: Can Daniel win against all odds?


The story-structure checklist focuses the writer’s attention on important aspects of story construction. Familiarity with such a list makes the task of troubleshooting one’s tale that much easier.


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Image: Oliver Tacke

Writing is Rewriting

Hand writing


In his book, Screenwriting, Raymond G Frensham, talks about six types of focus associated with rewriting a screenplay: comprehension, structure, characters, dialogue, style, and polishing. Although opinions differ on the exact number and order of rewrites, Frensham’s view offers some useful insights.

In this first post in the series I examine the first stage of the rewriting process and offer some suggestions for piloting the process. I will be looking at some of the other stages in follow-up posts.

The First Rewrite: Enhancing Comprehension

In seeking to make your story as understandable as possible, ask yourself the following questions and seek remedies if the answers are less than ideal:

1. Is my particular story the best vehicle for expressing my dramatic and emotive intent? Would changing the setting or characters or genre improve the impact and effectiveness of my tale?

2. What information does the audience need to know in order to understand the story? Is the information revealed at the appropriate stages?

3. Can I strengthen the story by more strongly referencing its genre, for example, does my action film contain enough action, my love story enough love (or hate), etc.?

4. Are my characters’ actions motivated by their situation, background, and personality type?

5. Have I chosen the right structure for the type of story I’m writing? Is a three-act structure the best vehicle for my particular tale, or would a two, four, or five act-structure be better?

6. Whose story is it? In other words, through whose eyes is the audience experiencing the story?


The process of completing a screenplay involves several stages, each with its own focus and task. This post has examined the first stage—enhancing story comprehension.


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How to Improve your Outline

Hand drawing

Improving Your Outline:

So, you’ve come up with a logline for your story and proceeded to generate an outline from it (see earlier posts). How do you go about improving your outline, prior to commencing the actual writing of your script or novel? Here are some suggestions, chosen for their effectiveness from a myriad of others, to help you with this very important step:

Improving your Logline

Consider your logline carefully:

Is it as unique and intriguing as it can be?
Does it contain a set-up and pay-off that is the best as it can be?

If not, seek to improve it by brainstorming the ideas behind it.

Getting the Story Structure Right

Examine the basic structure of your story. Consider whether you can improve any of the events and actions that occur specifically at the main structural junctions:

The opening
The inciting incident
Do we know what the story is about by the first third of the Act I
The first turning point at the end of Act I
The mid-point
The second turning point at the end of Act II
The crisis
The climax
The resolution

Identify Weaknesses in your Story

Search for sections that seem weak, flat, or uninteresting. Specifically, consider:

Is your setup and payoff sharp and unique enough?
Are there enough twists and surprises in between the main structural beats to hold our attention?
Is the mislead and reveal as surprising and fitting as it can be?

Focusing on specific structural and pivotal junctions allows you to target your improvements where they counts the most.


Seek to better your outline by lifting the overall standard of your logline and the actions and events that occur at the main structural junction points of your story. Also improve the quality of your setup and payoff, the various story twists, and your mislead and reveal.


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How to Write Decision and Action Scenes

The Decision Scene in a story usually follows the Realisation Scene – the subject of last week’s post. The Action Scene, in turn, is most often preceded by the Decision Scene, forming a realisation-decision-action structure. Although this structure varies greatly in stories – other material might intervene – the scenes are causally connected.



The Decision Scene

In her book, Advanced Screenwriting, Linda Seger cautions that if the Relisation Scene leads directly into action without first showing its motivation, what follows can appear abrupt and forced. Sandwiching a Decision Scene between realisation and action, avoids this error:

In Unforgiven, William Munny (Clint Eastwood) decides to accept the Schofield Kid’s (Jaimz Woolvette) job offer, before embarking on a journey to fulfill the contract. In The Matrix, Neo (Keano Reeves) decides to swallow the red pill, then confronts the world of Agent Smith and the machines. Decision Scenes typically show a character observing, noticing – checking things out, before deciding to act as a result of new information and insight garnered by the Realisation Scene.



The Action Scene

Action Scenes propel the story forward by showing a character engaging in a range of actions: chasing a criminal, climbing a mountain, caring for a family member. In The Matrix, Neo learns how to fight by allowing Morpheus to download a kung-fu program directly into his brain. But in a character-driven film such as You Can Count On Me, the action may be as subdued as showing Samantha (Laura Linney) allowing her brother to stay with her, or having an affair. In each case, however, we notice that character action is a direct result of the decision to act.


Realisation, Decision, and Action Scenes form a tight dramatic unit that explains, motivates, and directs character action. A character realises a truth about his or her situation, decides to act on it, and does so. Understanding and utilising such patterns in your own writing is a useful way of weaving a tight and cohesive story.


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How to Use Theme to Orchestrate Your Story

A story typically comprises of a sequence of linked events, centering on a protagonist who pursues a difficult goal against a rising tide of obstacles orchestrated by the antagonist, (or antagonistic forces). In achieving the goal, the protagonist has to overcome an inner weakness or limitation, which results in his/her becoming a wiser and more accomplished person.


Shaping the Art

But how do we, as writers, select the most appropriate incidents to relate? Certainly, verisimilitude, suspense, drama, excitement, and uniqueness play a role. But how do we choose between two actions of equal weight, in terms of this list? One way is to let the theme or controlling idea guide us.

In his book, Story, Robert McKee defines the theme, or controlling idea, as he prefers to call it, as a statement expressed in a single sentence that describes how and why life undergoes a change in value by the end of a story.

McKee explains that the controlling idea has two components: value and cause. The controlling idea identifies the change from a positive to a negative value (or, vice versa) at the story-climax as a result of the protagonist’s final action, and provides the main reason for this change. Value plus cause, McKee informs us, captures the meaning of the story.


Value is the positive or negative charge found at the end of the story. In an up-ending, good triumphs, as in Groundhog Day, where cynicism and selfishness give way to love and selflessness; in a down-ending, negative values prevail. In Dangerous Liaisons, passion turns into self-loathing, resulting in hatred that destroys.


Cause, on the other hand, provides the reason why the protagonist’s world has been transformed into a positive or negative value. In writing a story, we work back from the end value, to the beginning, and trace the causes within the character, society, or environment that has brought about this change.

Theme as a Scene Creation Tool

In Peter Falk’s Columbo, for example, we track back from the theme or controlling idea — Justice is done because the protagonist is cleverer than the criminal — selecting for inclusion only those story beats that serve the theme. Sherlock Holmes style scenes in which Columbo uses deductive reasoning to corner the criminal are appropriate for a man of superior intelligence and observation skills. Reaching under his raincoat for a .44 Magnum in order to frighten the criminal into confessing, or beating the daylights out of him, is not, although it is a fitting action for Clint Eastwood’s Dirty Harry.


The theme or controlling idea encompasses a change in value plus the reasons for it. Keeping the theme foremost in our minds assists us in writing appropriate scenes that stay on track.


If you enjoyed this post, or have a suggestion for a future one, kindly leave a comment and let’s get chatting. You may subscribe to this blog by clicking on the “subscribe” or “profile” link on the right-hand side of this article. I post new material every Monday.

How to Write Story Twists: The Craft of the Dramatic Beat

In these posts, I often talk about the large structural elements that make up the overall infrastructure of a story — the turning points, the mid point, and so on. These structures, important as they are, in that they steer and turn the narrative at crucial junctions, however, do not constitute the bulk of your story. The brick and mortar of your story lies in the details — in the large number of dramatic beats that makes up your scenes.

Dramatic beats

Dramatic beats

Dramatic beats, we are reminded, are small but significant actions that make up a scene. In a scene in which a murder occurs, for example, a character ambling around the room doesn’t constitute a dramatic beat; his spotting the gun under the table, which is to be used in the murder, does.

The question now arises: what sorts of dramatic beats keep our readers glued to the page, and how can we best structure such beats?

For one, we can fashion them in a way which creates suspense, as has been mentioned in a previous post. For another, we can introduce the element of surprise. Or, we can do both.

Twists to Keep your Readers/Audience Interested.

A twist, by definition, contains an element of surprise. It is an event or action that the reader does not see coming, rendering it fresh and unpredictable. Plan your scenes to contain at least some beats in which one or more of the following occurs:

1. A betrayal of trust.
2. A loss of resources.
3. A lie is uncovered.
4. A new problem arises.
5. Unforeseen consequences of past actions arise.
6. A new character is introduced.
7. Trust is betrayed.
8. A character swaps sides.
9. A plan goes wrong.
10.A new motive is revealed.

In Inglorious Basterds, written and directed by Quentin Tarantino, Colonel Hans Landa’s (Christoph Waltz) reputation of ruthlessness drives one of the longest and most suspenseful scenes in the entire movie. At the start of the film, Landa arrives at a dairy farm in the French countryside in search of the Dreyfuses, a missing Jewish family, who he suspects is being sheltered in the area. Landa insists on being introduced to each of the dairy farmer’s daughters individually, heightening the sense of implied threat. Although LaPadite (Denis Menochet) at first resists admitting that the Dreyfuses are, in fact, hiding beneath the floorboards of his house, Landa eventually ferrets the truth out of him through a series of compliments, threats, and innuendoes.

The scene utilises some of the techniques mentioned above: a new motive is revealed — Landa did not come to LaPadite’s farm house to close the book on the case as he, at first, claims but to torture him and catch him out; a lie is uncovered — Landa is able to ferret the truth out of LaPadite; a new problem arises — LaPadite knows that if he continues hiding the Dreyfuses, his own family will be executed; a trust is betrayed and a character swaps sides — LaPadite is forced to betray the Dreyfuses; a plan goes wrong — LaPadite’s plan to hide the Dreyfuses under his floorboard misfires.

In Summary

Organising your scenes’ dramatic beats according to some of the above-mentioned suggestions is an effective way of ensuring that each scene contains enough twists to keep your readers and audience interested.

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How to Strengthen Your Climactic Scene

As has been mentioned in a previous post, scenes are composite clusters of dramatic action, which usually (but not always) occur within a unified spatial and temporal field — within a specific time and place. Each scene has a specific function to perform according to its location within the story. Scenes correspond to the structural units that have been the main subject of these posts — turning points, mid-point, the pinches, etc., but they can also be simpler, less powerful clusters — adjoining units acting as transitional bridges to more important and dramatic scenes. By identifying, naming, and studying the structure of each scene as a type in the films and literature we admire, we are able to apply the insights we gain in our own work.

The Climactic Scene

One example of an important scene type, arguably the most important of all, is the climax, also known as the must-have, or, do-or-die scene. This scene occurs when the protagonist is forced, or, chooses, to face the antagonist in a winner-take-all confrontation towards the end of the story. At the beginning of this scene the stakes are at their highest, the outcome uncertain, as is the theme and moral premise of the story. By the end of the scene good (in the form of the protagonist) either triumphs over or succumbs to evil (in the form of the antagonist), thus settling the theme and moral premise. The question now arises as to how we may ramp up the climactic scene in order to squeeze the most juice from it, knowing that a failed climax inevitably means a failed story. Here are a couple of suggestions.

Ask yourself these two questions:

1. What is the primary strength of your antagonist?
2. What is the primary weakness/fear of your protagonist?

Now create a scene that plays to your protagonist’s chief weakness\fear, while promoting your antagonist’s primary strength. Additionally, ask yourself what setting best enhances the antagonist’s chances of winning, while simultaneously increasing the chances of your protagonist’s failing?

The Matrix

In the film, The Matrix, for example, an important late confrontation between Neo and agent Smith takes place inside virtual space — Smith’s own world — a place where he holds the most advantage. At the end of a sustained fight sequence Smith shoots Neo, who, for all intents and purposes, dies. It is only when Trinity administers the kiss of life/love to him on the Nebuchadnezzar — in the real world — that Neo recovers and is able to defeat Smith inside the matrix.

In Summary

The climactic scene represents the dramatic highlight of your story. It pits the protagonist against the antagonist in a do-or-die confrontation whose outcome determines not only the moral premise and theme of your story but its ultimate success. Improve your writing by exploiting an appropriate setting that strengthens the antagonist while simultaneously weakening the protagonist.

If you enjoyed this post, or have a suggestion for a future one, kindly leave a comment and let’s get chatting. I post every Monday.

Understanding Scene Construction

A scene is a story unit involving one or more dramatic beat(s). Much has been written about scene construction, but in today’s post, I want to highlight two important aspects: general function and function relative to story-position.

The general function of any scene is to provide the reader/audience with essential information in order to progress the story in a manner that is engaging and stylistically consistent with the rest of the work. Each scene, therefore, has a specific purpose. We realize that important scenes are nothing other than the structural units we’ve been referring to as the inciting incident, pinch, turning point, mid-point, climax, resolution, and on on. Hence, the function of the inciting incident scene is to kick-start the story, the first turning point’s function is to turn the story in an unexpected way, etc. Identifying scenes in this way highlights their function (described in numerous books and blogs), tells us where they belong in terms of story sequence, and allows us to map them along a path, which traces a beginning, middle, and end.

Pragmatics & Stylistics

What about the pragmatics of scene construction? A general rule is that most scenes should start late and finish early — meaning that a scene should be devoid of excess fat. It should fulfill its function and finish, allowing the next scene to perform its function and finish, and so on.

Scenes should also adhere to the generic stylistics of the story. Stylistics inform how the scene delivers its information — the climactic scene in a love story, for example, is very different to the climactic scene in the action or thriller genre, in terms of setting, tone, tempo, and protagonist/antagonist interaction. In a love story the antagonist and protagonist might very well end up having sex and getting married; in a thriller, they might end up killing each other, again, in an appropriate setting.

Out of Sight

In the superb comedy/action/crime/love story movie Out of Sight Jack Foley (George Clooney), a failed bank robber, and Karen Sisco (Jennifer Lopez) a US Marshall, share an ostensibly antagonistic relationship, which conceals a growing attraction between them — an attraction usually associated with a full-blown love story. The outer journey — the cop chasing the bank robber — neatly echoes the inner journey — the lover’s chase. The accomplished but disjointed time-line adds to the sense of uncertainty in which the viewer is unsure whether Sisco is out to arrest Jack or make love to him.

In Summary

Scenes correspond to the structural units discussed in previous posts, and in innumerable books and blogs. Each scene has a specific task to perform and is located at a specific point within the overall story. Generic concerns influence the stylistics of scene creation — such as setting and type of conflict.

If you’ve enjoyed this blog, or have a suggestion for a future one, kindly leave a comment and let’s get chatting. I post on Mondays.

What is “Tone” in Story-Telling?

This post come about as a result of a suggestion by Mark Landen, a regular contributor to this blog, that I say something about tone in story-telling, and its impact on narrative elements such as theme and plot.

First, a brief definition: By “tone” (or the slightly more imprecise, “mood”), I mean the moral, ethical, and aesthetic attitude the writer/narrator adopts towards her material in narrating it. Tone can be satirical, comic, serious, or tragic. It is no coincidence that a description of tone corresponds to the overarching genre in story-telling; it is genre, more that setting, plot, or theme, that determines a story’s tone by inflecting the aforementioned elements. Hence, a similar setting in a musical such as The Rocky Horror Picture Show or a classical horror such as Frankenstein’s Monster (Boris Karloff) can produce a disparate mood of levity and dread respectively, precisely because it is modulated by a difference in genre.


Does tone help to determine the theme of a story? The short answer is: not necessarily. If we take theme to be the (moral) lesson delivered at the end of the story as a result of the final conflict between the protagonist and antagonist, then it is clear that a musical or a comefy can produce as viable, serious, and independent a theme as drama, or tragedy. In this sense, theme tends to be a universal and etherial ordering element, floating above the specific textural concerns of genre.


What about plot? Here again, at the most quintessential level, tonal elements are not fashioned by plot itself, but by genre: The exploration of the going-on at Frankenstein’s castle, for example, may receive a traditional horror treatment, or may be rendered comedic or satirical, as in a musical, giving rise to a different emotional experience. Again, it is genre, not plot, that creates the tonality of the story.

In Summary

Although tone is deeply rooted in the generic demands of the tale, it is inflected by the writer’s moral, ethical, and aesthetic attitude towards her story and her method of narrating it.

If you’ve enjoyed this post or have a suggestion for a future one, kindly leave a comment and let’s get chatting.

I post every Monday.

How to Kick-Start your Story

In a previous post, I mentioned that the inciting incident is an early narrative event intended to get the story rolling. In this post, I want to expand on this important device by highlighting two of its main functions: the inciting incident creates forward momentum by tearing us away from the ordinary world. It also keeps us interested in the story by setting up the 1st turning point as a surprise. The 1st turning point, as Syd Field reminds us, is the moment the plot truly commences — the real start of the story. Expressed in another way, it is the moment the protagonist is issued a new challenge, accepts a new opportunity, formulates a new plan, and embarks on a new journey to achieve it.

The function of the inciting incident, therefore, is to introduce an event which disturbs the status quo and initiates a course of action with unexpected consequences. In this sense, it is an early mislead that prevents the writer from showing her hand too early.

Shutter Island

In the film Shutter Island, Police Marshal Teddy Daniels (Leonardo DiCaprio) and his partner, Chuck Auel (Mark Ruffalo) arrive at the hospital for the criminally insane, which operates under Boston’s jurisdiction, ostensibly to investigate the mysterious disappearance of a patient from the facility. When his request for access to the hospital’s personnel files is refused, Daniels begins to suspect a sinister plot by the doctors to cover up his investigation into possible unethical and illegal medical procedures. Soon, however, Daniels begins to doubt everything around him, including his own sanity.

The inciting incident occurs when Daniels arrives at the island to investigate the patient’s disappearance. The main thrust of the story, however, is to determine what is real and what is merely the insane imaginings of a psychotic mind. The plot starts in earnest at the first turning point — the doctors’ refusal to grant Daniels access to the hospital’s personnel files. This sets up the dramatic question which drives the entire story: what are the doctors hiding from Daniels?

In Summary

The function of the inciting incident is to kick-start the story by ushering the protagonist away from his ordinary world towards the surprise of the 1st turning point. In this sense, this narrative event may be regarded as a sort of mislead.

If you’ve enjoyed this post, or have a request for a future one, kindly leave a comment and let’s get chatting. I post every Monday.