A Plot With Purpose
How to Meaningfully Take Your Story From A to Z
After weeks of shaping your nebulous idea into a solid narrative, you trimmed your logline, refined the central message, and fleshed out the ensemble. You even crafted an opener that immediately set the tone and hooked your reader. Awesome. Now, with all that information, you should be able to dive right into your story…right?
Well, perhaps. Some writers can figure it out as they go along, but many, like me, need a map to guide them. So how do you chart one for yourself? Where do you start your story? Where do you take it, and how do you end it?
You can design your plot in various ways and even reinvent the rules as you experiment. But doing so in a way that gets others to read your work is extremely hard, which is why most people start and often stick with the 3-act structure. It’s easier and generally works for most ideas. Additionally, having a good understanding of this framework can help you break away from it. This way, you can explore other structures that may better suit your stories, like Freytag’s Pyramid or the Fitchean Curve.
To get you started with plot design, let's dive into the three-act structure and everything you need to know about it. Plot design is not all that complicated. The real challenge is using allegories to drive the narrative meaningfully.
This means creating events, character actions, and decisions in your story that connect to your central message. For instance, if your character is a king who is blindly pursuing power, that is a physical trait that reflects the deeper meaning or central message of the story. In this case, your central message might be, “Blind ambition leads to ruin.” The King’s pursuit of power illustrates the moral lesson without stating it outright.
This is why storytelling can be difficult. It’s not just about connecting scenes to build emotional or narrative tension; it’s also about making those scenes, actions, and dialogue sequences allegorical to the deeper meaning of the narrative.
So that’s what this piece is about, annnd. Yeah. Period. Done. Okay, cool. I’m happy with that introduction. I hope you are too. Let’s go!
The Three-Act Structure:
This is a three-act structure template I created long ago. It’s short and simple, which makes it more challenging. Limiting how much you can include forces you to distill your main points. It’s tough, but it can help you gain clarity on your story’s structure, pacing, and key character arcs. Let's walk through a simple example and then review a complete template from start to finish.
Act I: The Setup
This is likely the easiest part of plotting, as it involves introducing your main character at the start of the story. You're not yet entangled in Act II's complexity. No, Act I is much more straightforward. Basically, it’s just establishing the following:
Setting: This is the world your character lives in and where you establish time, place, and anything relevant about the environment surrounding the protagonist, like geopolitical or environmental issues. You can be as specific or general as needed, but when it comes to setting, a high level of specificity often creates a more immersive and believable world.
Don’t say something like “New York.” That could refer to either the state or the city. And if it’s the city—well, the area is densely populated, economically varied, and culturally rich. It helps to know if your main lead is living in downtown Manhattan or Tremont. Even simply noting 'inner city,' 'downtown,' or 'suburbs' can be sufficient, depending on how important the area is. So let’s start our example by introducing the setting and keeping it simple: Washington D.C. suburbs, present day.
Characters: This is where the ensemble is listed, which doesn’t include every character. It’s just the main character, the antagonist (if any), and the secondary characters—like close friends, sidekicks, or important supporting roles. At this point, I like to name my characters, but it’s okay if you don’t have names yet. Use a placeholder if necessary. I also like to state the relationship of each character to either the protagonist or antagonist. None of this is essential—it’s just helpful to have.
Let’s use an example with two characters. Dave is the main character, while his brother Jon is a fake opponent who ultimately proves to be a real ally—essentially, the secondary character. Maybe Dave is cautious and conservative, while Jon is bold and unpredictable.
Situation: Introduce the main character’s everyday life. Who is your main character? What are they doing job-wise, if any? What about in their personal life? What are the physical weaknesses that hold them back? What false belief do they cling to that justifies staying stuck?
If you haven't already, read my Character Engines piece to better understand “physical weakness” and “the lie they tell themselves.” A physical weakness is something a character does that indirectly expresses a deeper reason for their choices.
Let's return to the example. Dave is a risk-averse accountant living a quiet, solitary life—emotionally distant and without close relationships. Dave shows signs of shyness and reluctance to leave his comfort zone. This fear of risk leaves him stuck.
These physical weaknesses he exhibits early in the story reveal what this character believes deep down inside, which is the character’s Moral Weakness. But they rarely admit these flawed beliefs and instead lie to themselves.
Introducing your character’s external flaw and self-deception in the first act lays the groundwork for their internal conflict. The first act should reveal their flaws and the lies they use to justify them. These lies blind them to the fact that their worldview (moral weakness) causes their external struggles. You can reveal the moral weakness early, but it’s often more satisfying when the character uncovers it gradually.
Show their external flaws and self-deception early to reveal the internal struggle. Keep in mind that all of this should be allegorical. So you shouldn’t have the characters explain it outright. Use metaphorical scenes that build toward the story’s deeper meaning. Fill those events with character-defining choices that show who they are without overt explanation.
So, in this example, Dave gets invited out for drinks with friends he hasn’t seen in years. But he turns it down, saying he has to wake up early for a business meeting. This action shows he’s hesitant to leave his comfort zone. Then, the next day, Dave finds out that he’s being let go. He never switched jobs even though the signs of trouble were clear months ago, and now he’s paying the price.
Of course, you want to sprinkle in other physical actions to really paint the idea that he’s afraid of taking risks. But these are the primary beats that reveal the main character’s flaws while pushing the story toward his turning point. Not knowing what to do, Dave sinks deeper into hopelessness until he receives a phone call one day, which leads us to…
Plot Point #1
Also known as the inciting incident, plot point #1 is the event that propels your character from their ordinary, everyday routine in the first act to a journey toward discovery that unfolds in the second act. Understand that the character’s path is also the audience’s journey. So you don't need them to discover anything about themselves or change. You just need the audience to experience the character’s lesson for change. And plot point #1 is the entrance to that journey.
More specifically, plot point #1 consists of two important parts:
The Opportunity: This is the moment when your character is given a chance to do something or go somewhere. It’s this opportunity that will propel them toward a clear, tangible goal.
Let’s go back to Dave and create an opportunity for him.
He gets a phone call from his wild brother. Their mother has died, and she wants them to travel to England and spread her ashes. Dave is hesitant—conflicted between grief and the hassle of travel—but ultimately gives in when Jon offers to pay. Curiosity edges out guilt as he agrees to go. Dave is pulled out of his routine and into a journey of unresolved emotions. His goal becomes clear: fulfill his mother's request and reconnect with his brother.
The New Situation: The new situation begins once the character accepts the call to action. Now, Dave finds himself navigating unfamiliar emotional territory as he embarks on a voyage that forces him to face his strained relationship with Jon. So, in our example, the new situation might be having Dave and Jon travel by boat because Jon, the wild brother, never traveled that way and thought they could use the time to bond. Dave grimaces at the idea, imagining the cramped quarters and forced heart-to-hearts.
It may sound formulaic, but it needn’t be. You can adapt the inciting incident to suit the needs of your story. For instance, with the opportunity, the character’s goal doesn’t need to be obvious, like winning a competition or reaching a destination. It could be a story about someone finding happiness and meaning in a life that feels unfulfilling. Or with the new situation, it doesn’t have to be something that radically alters their daily routine, like getting on a boat and traveling across the world. Sometimes, it’s as simple as a small decision, like choosing to order out instead of cooking.
There are endless ways to do this, and honestly, you could scrap the whole thing, wing it, and still make it work somehow.
Act II: The Confrontation
We’ve made it this far without losing our minds— Great—now we have to survive the craziest part: Act II. Act II is the longest and most complex part, with many moving pieces building toward a powerful payoff. Not an easy task. It's usually broken into three major conflicts, each driving the story forward.
Conflict #1: Change of Plans and Progress:
Change of Plans: Your character is placed in a new situation—one that forces them out of their comfort zone and disrupts their original objective. This could be anything from a betrayal, a change in location, an obstacle, or a revelation that flips their understanding of the world. When a complication destroys their plan, they must pivot and take new action to reach their goal. This is also when the goal itself may shift, and a new one can emerge.
Let’s say the two brothers are traveling on a boat to spread their mother’s ashes. Then the boat sinks, and they end up stranded in the middle of the ocean. That original intention has been completely upended. Now, the goal has shifted from spreading the ashes to staying alive. On top of that, Dave must now take risks to survive, which makes this a journey that tests him and ultimately leads to personal growth through learning the importance of taking risks.
Progress: After introducing the first major conflict that disrupts the initial plan, you want to give your character some leeway so they can progress. Let's say Dave and Jon manage to get on a life raft with a few remaining survivors.
Things are calm—they might survive another day and reach land. But since this is a story, the calm can't last. Take something from your characters, give them something, then take again. Torture your characters with obstacles that grow harder.
So maybe it starts with extreme thirst, then a storm nearly wipes them out—but they survive and now have plenty of water. And remember, the story’s meaning should emerge through their actions. Dave is risk-averse, often relying on his more capable brother to rescue him from danger.
Conflict #2: The Point of No Return
This is when the character must choose to continue or quit. If they choose to stop, the story is over. But we’re writers, and the last thing we want to do is wrap things up too abruptly, so the character will always choose to continue.
Back to the example. While fishing, two passengers fight, forcing Jon to intervene, ending up in the water with one of them. One is eaten, and Jon’s leg is bitten before sharks swarm the raft. Dave manages to pull his brother to safety. Now, they must find strength and face the escalating danger.
Conflict #3: Upping the Stakes:
This is where you push your characters with intense, escalating challenges. Give Dave and Jon less while taking more away. Their chance of reaching the goal should steadily shrink.
In this example, the passenger who instigated the fight is losing their mind from guilt, while Jon slowly bleeds to death. Concurrently, they’re out of fresh water from the storm, and they still don’t have food. Then, they find a small leak in the raft. This pushes the other person to a breaking point, leading to a tragic decision to end his life. Because of all the blood, Dave and Jon can’t push him out; it might attract sharks. As a result, his decomposing body remains on board.
Eventually, the raft fails, and now they’re floating in the ocean on their backs, waiting for the sharks to come. Dave falls asleep but quickly wakes up as he sinks, realizing he’s all alone. His brother fell asleep and drowned, or worse, was taken by a shark. Dave must now find the courage to carry on and take the necessary risks to survive.
Plot Point #2:
This is the lowest point for the protagonist. Everything is taken away, and there is seemingly no hope. Typically, they’ll retreat to a safe space and contemplate giving up. But eventually, they’ll get back in the fight and formulate a final plan, putting everything on the table.
In this scenario, stranded alone at sea, Dave isn’t in a safe place where he can retreat. Perhaps he briefly escapes into memories of the past. Either way, Dave seems ready to give up. But then, out on the horizon, a ship slowly emerges, moving past without notice. He has a chance to survive, but he must act fast to catch the ship’s attention.
Act III: The Resolution
The final act, where all threads converge. It's presented in two key parts:
The Final Conflict: Here, your character risks everything to achieve their goal, often feeling overwhelmed. Ideally, it builds up to a climax where they face the biggest obstacle, typically the main opponent who determines whether they fulfill their goal or fail miserably.
Going back to the example, Dave is frantically yelling, trying to get the ship’s attention, but they’re too far out to notice him. It’s passing by, and it seems he won’t be saved. But then he remembers the metal pocket watch his brother gave him before they got on the ship. Miraculously, he still has it (Yeah, I know it’s a bit too coincidental, I’m writing this example on the fly, so cut me some slack!) He then reflects the sunlight from the metal to get the ship to notice, which is a long shot. But at the last second, we see it change course. Now it’s heading towards Dave.
Conclusion: We finally reach the conclusion, typically after the big fight—or maybe not. Remember, there aren’t any rules, so you could just as easily wrap it up right when the character wins or loses, leave it open-ended, or even show their life years later. Just end the damn thing!
In the example, the main character is rescued, and after some time, he makes the trip again to spread his mother’s ashes. As he does, he reflects on the loss of his brother and quietly wishes he had survived. To add meaning, show him returning to his old life. However, this time, instead of blowing off his friends, he decides to meet them for drinks. It’s something he used to avoid out of fear and self-doubt. Now, he’s no longer afraid of taking risks and knows that life is too short to live in constant fear.
Conclusion
That's how you create a meaningful three-act structure for your story. Granted, it's a simple example that could use more emotional nuance to convey Dave’s transformation. Adding specific moments of internal conflict or symbolic choices would also help make the story more compelling and less cliché.
Either way, I hope this at least illustrates plot structuring. Again, crafting the beats is pretty straightforward, but making them meaningful and emotionally resonant is the real challenge. It’s not just about driving the character from point A to Z. It’s about guiding them on a transformative journey where they come to understand the error of their ways and grow from that realization.
Dave learns that taking risks can be necessary to make the most of a short life. In the beginning, he avoids social situations, shies away from confrontation, and prefers routine over spontaneity. Then, he’s suddenly thrust into a life-or-death situation with his brother, who shows him that having the courage to take chances can pay off. The situation shows Dave how fragile life is and how he’s wasted most of it.
So, by the end, after surviving, Dave becomes a changed man. Maybe he’s not quite like his brother, but he’s now willing to venture away from his comfort zone for new opportunities. He’s less afraid of uncertainty and values his time on Earth instead of taking it for granted.
Okay, that’s it for this post. I hope you found this insightful since writing can be overwhelming. That’s why I’m a huge fan of the prewriting process and love sharing this information with you. There are a lot of amazing ideas out there, but unless you know how to bring them to life through writing, they’ll never come to be.
And I like stories more than great ideas, so please keep writing! Also, here’s a link to a breakdown of the example from this post showing the three-act structure. Enjoy, and best of luck in your creative endeavors!
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Story Prism,