Dramatic Structure: What Do We DO with It?

I’ve taught dramatic structure many times. Traditional five-act and three-act structures for memoir and novels; a four-act structure for thrillers and mysteries; letter-e structure for memoir, spiral structure for essay collections; circular structure for blog posts and travel writing. In their simplest application, the writer draws the structure and maps their scenes along the graphic path, for a visual representation of building tension, turning points, major narrative moments.

For my own manuscripts, mapping structure has shown me where plot lines intersect, where tension dips instead of accelerating, and what missing scenes I need to write. As an editor, the practice has helped my writer-clients determine which scenes are repetitive, or if the story is told in the most effective order, whether or not that’s chronological.

But in my teaching, I’ve never taken the next step–using the information from the structure map to guide revision.

Last week, I led a bespoke retreat for four writers in Canada. We called it “Finish Your Damn Book Already,” as they’d been working for a few years and are ready to get these stories out the door. Our goal was to clearly map each book, with yet-to-be-written scenes outlined for both action and dramatic purpose: Do we need a small victory here? What will this scene show that we don’t already know? Part of their process was plotting their memoirs on paper–giant post-its on the wall, covered in smaller post-its; huge graph paper on a low table; a binder with pages that endlessly folded out, covered in re-positionable scene-stickers like the world’s nerdiest centerfold.

Our breakthrough came on the last day (as it so often does!), when we tackled five-act structure. Gathered around the low table, we used a different colored pencil for each writer, and started from the end.

Do it with us:

What are the 3 closing moments of your book? There’s probably an action scene, followed by reflection on how you got to this point, and a final image or action (possibly an epilogue) that is “stepping into the next story.” Whether or not you write a sequel, the reader needs to see you open the door to the next world and step into the light shining through. We don’t need to know what’s actually going to happen next, just that you’re moving forward into your new life, with all the knowledge you’ve gained in the past 70,000 or so words (here’s a classic example). These three elements are the last three points on a five-act structure: I Won; Reflection; Forward.

Starting with the destination is more powerful than starting with the beginning; it’s too easy to shoehorn in scenes that don’t belong when we start mapping from the front.

What’s the midpoint of your story? This is literally the middle of the book (or close to it). There’s a renewal of action for the reader and a direction change for the narrator: “Everything I thought I knew was wrong” or “In hindsight, everything that happened meant something different than I thought.” Think of the middle of Gone Girl, where we discover that Amy’s journals about her husband’s sketchy behavior are all lies; she’s staged her own kidnapping and she’s very much still alive.

By knowing what this major change is, and knowing that it belongs in the middle, it’s easier to place scenes on either side, evaluating how they help build the dramatic action.

Fill in scenes in the second half of the book. Starting from the Midpoint the simplest turning points are:

Midpoint/Yay! The narrator and the reader have made a completely new discovery and changed direction.

But… Oh no this new direction is not working out the way I hoped

Wait! This is the turn from Act Three into Act Four. The narrator is trying a new action or making a new discovery, and things are looking up again.

Yikes! Oh no, that went poorly and now things are even worse.

I Won. That closing action scene, followed by Reflection and Forward.

Additional scenes happen between those key points; it’s possible for two key moments to be in the same scene, too.

For today, we’re skipping the first half of the book, but you would start with the beginning, then fill in between beginning and midpoint.

How does this help us revise? By looking at a scene’s location on the map, we can adjust the tone or narrative emphasis. One of the challenges of memoir is that it’s reflective–we already know what happened. With the benefit of hindsight, it can be difficult to create suspense for the reader. But if we know “this scene falls before the big Yikes,” then we can emphasize our hope at the time that things would be better, and make our misgivings more subtle on the page, for a stronger contrast with the negative outcome. When the reader hopes with us, they feel our disappointment; when the reader feels our continuous despair, the downfall loses impact, because it was expected.

Notice the peaks and valleys of the pictured structure. This doesn’t mean something great happens at every apex or something terrible at every nadir. The ups and downs of the dramatic arc depend on the narrator’s journey, not the innate negativity or positivity of the event itself. For example, perhaps the midpoint is the death of a parent. Essentially, a negative event, usually sad. But this can be a peak for the narrator because the event allows a strong change of direction or the start of a brand-new action in their life. Knowing which scenes are peaks or valleys, revise with those elements in mind. Emphasize change more. Remove excess reflection that slows down turning-point scenes. Look for images, details and settings that give the tone of the scene more weight.

Do you have to use a traditional dramatic structure? Of course not. Write your book as you wish! But humans know archetypal story structures. The farther you veer from an expected structure, the better your writing craft must be, the more compelling your story. Structure is a tool to make an innate connection for the reader–and help you finish the damn book already.

Give this a try, and let me know what you discover, in the comments!

*Originally published on the Brevity blog - https://brevity.wordpress.com/2024/09/26/dramatic-structure-what-do-we-do-with-it/