In the comments section of Tuesday’s post, Rachel asked:

Somehow I’ve missed your discussion on dividing the plot into four acts. But I’m fascinated. Do you think that would work for…say…the fourth book in a series, if the previous three were not divided into acts? At least consciously? The longer I do this, the clearer it becomes just how little I actually know.

Rachel, honey, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. And you, Miss USA Today bestseller, don’t have it broke. Confession: Here’s where I feel all guilty. Even though I bought Stray the week it came out, it’s still on the TBR pile. Sorry! It’s been a crazy summer!

Anyway, what’s interesting is that, despite the fact that I’m a very dedicated plotter, I don’t think too much about structure until I reach the rewrite phase. As I said in the other post, 4-act structure comes pretty naturally to me. I think that some of this is what writing instructors are talking about when they say that writers need to read a lot. You need to absorb the building blocks of story like conflict and rising action and climax and resolution through reading of a gazillion other stories. So when I first read about the 4 acts, I just went, “Oh, I do that.” But I don’t usually know what an act climax is until I’ve written it. Sometimes I don’t even know what an act climax is until I’ve written the whole book and am looking at it as a complete piece.

So I tend to use the idea of structure post-writing to see where I might be letting my tension lag, or where I can punch up a scene because I now realize it’s an act climax, etc. But I do usually find that, without thinking about it on a conscious level, most of the ducks are already in a row. I’m just organically using the building blocks of story to craft my own.

And I’d put money on the fact that you are too. Now, here’s the point where, if I’d read Stray, I could email you and go, “You’re fine. Your act breaks are here, here and here.” But I haven’t. (Catch me in September?) However, I bet if you do go through your books, thinking about structure, you’ll find them just fine and that will help you see where they need to be for your fourth book.

The other thing to keep in mind is that we’re not always going to be looking at the acts in the same way, because each act can have mini-climaxes as well. I might come up with entirely different act breaks than another person would for the same book. It depends on what you think is the real conflict or crisis or etc. For instance, I was having a structure discussion with someone and one of us argued that the end of the first act of SSG is when Amy accepts the Tap, and another one of us said the end of the first act was when she’s completely initiated into the society. Both arguments have merit.

This is how the acts work:
Act One: Ordinary world and inciting incident
Act Two: Complications leading to a crisis.
Act Three: Consequences of that crisis leading to a climax.
Act Four: Climax and resolution.

So for SSG it might be (whited out for spoilers, highlight to view):
Act One: Amy’s ordinary world until she is initiated into Rose & Grave at the end of chapter five (pg 94).
Act Two: Complications of being a newly-initiated member of the society, dealing with her barbarian friends, the new secrets she has, her new society brothers, the patriarchs, up to the point where (crisis) the tomb is padlocked and the patriarchs threaten Amy and the others (pg 181).
Act Three: Consequences rapidly pile up, including Amy and others losing their jobs, Malcolm getting threatened, Amy starting to question whether or not she really wants to be involved until she makes a decision to fight back (pg 249).
Act Four: Climax and resolution (through pg 291).

And then for UTR, it might be (again, whited out for spoilers):
Act One: Amy’s ordinary world in the society, leading up to the point where they are directly threatened by the website (pg 103).
Act Two: Complications of that threat leading to the crisis of Jenny’s disappearance (pg 168).
Act Three: Consequences of her disappearance (Amy’s alienation from her brothers, her forced association with an enemy) leading to a climax where Amy discovers that she can’t trust anyone she’s been counting on throughout the book, including Poe and George (pg 274).
Act Four: Climax and resolution (through pg 352).

Theoretically, you could re-break all those acts with the focus on the romantic plotline instead of the suspense plotline. And that works too. (By the way, I am available for workshops, conference coordinators!) I find it fascinating that subplots will follow the same pattern as the main plot, and I personally like it best when all the subplots simultaneously climax, so to speak. I loved it when I was putting together my subplot workshop and realized just how many subplots of Pride & Prejudice climaxed at the Netherfield Ball. And Jane Austen never took a screenwriting class, so it IS something that just happens naturally.

At its core, all this is just jargon. It’s just people who analyze this stuff for a living trying to put a name to what they’ve seen work. So if it works to say that your third act climax is a little sloppy, fine. Or maybe it works for you to say that you’ve got a sagging middle. Or that the purple moon quadrant is imposing itself on the golden tulip sector. Seriously, whatever works. Just because a certain theory doesn’t parse for you doesn’t mean you aren’t doing it, or aren’t doing it right. It’s just not the way your brain has decided to recognize a particular storytelling technique.

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This entry was posted on 08.22.07 at 11:24 pm by Diana | PRINT