Using the three-act structure to write your novel

If you struggle, as many of us do on occasion, to write that novel that’s been bubbling inside your brain for a long time, you might want to consider using a technique that I stumbled across some years ago—structure your novel in three acts. Unsure what I’m talking about? Allow me to explain.

Whether you’re a plotter (someone who maps out your story in detail before starting to write) or a pantser (you just sit down and start writing)—and, I’m somewhere between these two extremes—using the three-act format common to stage plays will help you create a good story.

Here’s how it works.

Act 1. This is roughly 25% of your story, and it’s where you introduce characters and situations. Somewhere near the end of this act, you introduce the change in the status quo that your character must deal with.

Act 2. The second act is the meat of your story, about 50% of the total. In act 2, the main character starts to make some progress, to commit to moving in a certain direction until he or she reaches a point of no return (roughly halfway through the act), whereupon you introduce serious obstacles to the character accomplishing the desired goals. I often say, in a novel, you put your character up a tree, throw rocks at him, and then let him climb down. Well, it’s in act 2 that you start throwing rocks. It is in this part of the story that the fear that your character might fail in her quest is introduced. Will the murderer get away? Will the heroine enter the basement where the axe murderer awaits? Make your reader think this is a distinct possibility.

Act 3. Now, we come to the final 25%, and unless you’re writing dark fiction where bad things happen to good people and there’s nothing they can do about it, this is where your character undergoes transformation, finds a way out (make sure it’s logical and not deus ex machina, preferably foreshadowed by some subtle clue you’ve planted in act 2 somewhere, or even in act 1) and reaches her goal. The last one or two percent or so of the story, the last few pages of act 3, should tie up loose ends and leave the reader satisfied that all is right, in your fictional world.

Now, the percentages I give are just approximations, I sometimes have a very short act 1, or act 2, and put most of the meat of my story into act 2, but the three-act structure remains more or less intact. As a reminder, I keep a chart over my desk, that looks something like this:
                                                                 Plot Timeline
                                      Act 1                              Act 2                             Act 3
                                I———————I——————————————-I———————I
                                 Introduction                Meat                               Solution

There you have it. That’s how I write. It just might work for you as well. Worth a shot, don’t you think?

How I Write: Roll with the Flow

We humans love to label things. Writers are no exception, either. Take writing habits, for example, we label writers as either those who diligently map out their stories, plotters, or those who just start writing and go with whatever comes, sort of writing by the ‘seat of the pants, or, pantsers.
The problem with this is that a lot of writers don’t fall neatly into either category. Take me, for instance. I usually start my books in one of the following ways:
1. I list the chapters, and the main action in each, knowing generally how I want the story to end. As I write, though, I will often change action, or add chapters as some interesting action or event is suggested by the flow of the story.
2. I know generally how I want the story to end, and I plan the first chapter or two, and then start writing, going with the flow.
You will notice a common thread here; I always go with the natural flow of the story. Certain things just seem to logically follow other things.
Take, for example, my current work in progress, another in my Al Pennyback mystery series, featuring a retired army officer turned private detective in the Washington, DC area. Al is on retainer to a law firm, but the work they give him doesn’t take up too much of his time, so he takes cases involving people who are being put upon by the system, or who have no one else to turn to. Al is something of a knight errant, or a samurai without a master—otherwise known as a Ronin—and, he is always on the side of the downtrodden. In the current story, A Deal to Die For, his client is a spoiled rich girl, who he dislikes at first, but takes the case because she’s being falsely accused of murder.
Generally, my plan for this one was for him to prove her innocence after several false starts and a lot of time spent following red herrings. I decided that this one would be really complex, with several of the things that push Al’s buttons, like the presence of militia, and some play on 9/11, with a possible terrorist in the mix for interest. I mapped out the first nineteen chapters and began writing. The murder has already happened two days before the story begins, and Al’s task is to find the killer.
He begins working his way through the initial list of potential suspects, eliminating them one by one through diligent detective work, until he’s left with what he thinks is the most likely bad guy—only, I decided that he would really hit a wall when he learns that the most likely suspect is not what he first thought he was, and his nemeses, the militia bad guys start to crank up the heat and put his life in danger.
Now, if the militia guys are the real killers, the story’s about over, so I decided that this was too pat. In chapter 19, I have Al’s client fearing she’s about to be arrested, and unidentified bad buys tailing Al all over town. The clock’s ticking, and the stakes are cranked up to the max. I’ve kind of decided who the real murder is already, and now I’m just sending Al down a few false trails, so that when the killer is finally unveiled, readers will be surprised.
I’m now in the home stretch, and I’m planning a few confrontation scenes and some real nail-biting action just before Al finally finds the key clue that tells him where to look.
That, in a nutshell, is how I write. I go with the flow, and if the flow seems to be veering away from the rough sketch map I started with, I simply draw a new map. That is neither plotting, nor pantsing, but a combination of the two, which, being human, I will call plantsing.
So, having shared that bit of trivia with you, I will go back to my plantsing, and see what sprouts. Happy reading, and a glorious New Year to one and all.

%d bloggers like this: