Modeling the Three-Act Plot Formula

Plotting a story is often difficult for many (most?) writers. This post may make the job a bit easier.

According to Aristotle's analysis, a plot consists of three interrelated parts, among which there is a series of cause-and-effect relationships. Every story (or play, which is what he was analyzing in Poetics) has a beginning, a middle, and an end. (The ancient Greek plays he watched were three-act plays.)

With this structure in mind, the basic plot formula of 1. CAUSE, 2. ACTION, and 3. OUTCOME can be used to generate many specific plot models. Any of the models can produce either a comedic or a tragic outcome, depending on its development.

Here are a few such models, some with an example from a book, a short story, or a movie.

1. Problem
2. Solution
3. Outcome
   
   

Example: As Good as It Gets

1. Seduction
2. Sex
3. Outcome
   
   

Example: Fatal Attraction

1. Masquerade
2. Unmasking
3. Outcome

Example: The Crying Game

1. Victimization
2. Vengeance
3. Outcome

Example: Sudden Impact

1. Stalking
2. Assault 
3. Outcome

Example: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV series)

1. Temptation 
2. Resistance 
3. Outcome

Example: Joan of Arc (LeeLee Sobieski)

1. Options
2. Selection
3. Outcome

1. Submission
2. Dominance
3. Outcome

Example: The Story of O

1. Dominance
2. Submission
3. Outcome

Example: The Collector

1. Role
2. Reversal
3. Outcome

Example: The Final Girl

1. Curiosity
2. Experiment
3. Outcome

Example: The Moviegoer

1. Anxiety
2. Confession
3. Outcome
   
   

1. Opportunity
2. Pact
3. Outcome

Example: Faust

1. Twins
2. Swap
3. Outcome
   
   

Example: The Parent Trap

1. Twins
2. Share
3. Outcome

1. Dissatisfaction
2. Novelty
3. Outcome

Example: The Wizard of Oz

1. Change
2. Adaptation
3. Outcome

 

Example: King Henry IV, Part II

1. Threat
2. Response
3. Outcome

 

Example: Alien

1. Isolation
2. Challenge
3. Outcome
   
   

1. Novelty
2. Trial
3. Outcome
   

 

1. Process
2. Change
3. Outcome

 

Example: The Fly

1. Perspective
2. Violence
3. Outcome

 

Example: Death Wish

Plotting by Phrase

Copyright 2019 by Gary L. Pullman

Language is the chief connection between our minds and the world at large. It is the means by which we perceive and conceive ideas, interpret experience, and communicate our attitudes, beliefs, emotions, thoughts, and values. In civilized society, it takes the place (at times) of assault and warfare in which not discussion of differences, but might, makes right.

In addition, language contains nuggets of wisdom, encapsulated knowledge, hard-won understanding, good advice. Often in the form of clever or pithy phrases, language is a reminder of what has been found to be true or useful, and, with some thought and imagination, offers a treasure trove for writers in search of ideas. Since Chillers and Thrillers is devoted to horror fiction and to, well, thrillers, this post considers a few of the phrases that could inspire plots for stories in these genres.

The first is “Nantucket sleigh ride,” which is defined as:

An obsolete and dangerous method of whale hunting in which a small boat manned by rowers and a harpooner, or a series of small boats tied together, would be attached to a whale by means of a harpoon and would then be towed by the creature at high speed across the water's surface, until the whale eventually became exhausted.

Although it's unlikely that such a technique is used today, it (or something similar to it) could be used, with a gargantuan monster of some kind substituting for the whale. Think of a group of sledges, instead of boats, fastened together and attached, perhaps by a harpoon, to a Tyrannosaur rampaging across eastern Alaska, western Canada, Washington, Idaho, Oregon, California, Arizona, or western Mexico (areas all once part of the island of Laramidia).

The object of such an enterprise might be the same as the Nantucket sleigh ride of yesteryear: to tire one's prey so that it could be killed (or captured, perhaps). How'd the T Rex come to reside in modern-day western North America? That's a matter for a different post, although the cloning of dinosaur DNA in Jurassic Park certainly might point the way, as could the discovery of a live specimen tucked away in the corner of some as-yet undiscovered niche of Canada, Alaska, or Mexico (id such a place still exists).

The term “miner's canary,” referring to “a caged bird kept caged in mines because its demise provided a warning of dangerous levels of toxic gases,” also suggests so,me plot possibilities. In a horror story or a thriller, the canary, of course, wouldn't be a canary; it would be a person or even a group of people, maybe a whole town of people. Unknown to them, their community might be located at the edge of a dangerous area, perhaps one that is radioactive; perhaps one in which a group of hostile extraterrestrial creatures are held captive; perhaps one in which the portal to another dimension exists, leaving he earth at risk of invasion by the bizarre, but highly developed, inhabitants of this otherworldly plane—or whatever other scenario one's imagination develops.

“My spider sense is tingling,” a phrase that has entered the language courtesy of Marvel Comics's The Amazing Spider-Man, also suggests a possibility or two—for me, alas, just one: suppose a person had a “spider sense,” an intuitive perception that danger was nigh and that this sense had a physical way of conveying its impressions, such as causing—I don't know—say, a tingling sensation?

But then, this person develops paranoia (backstory needed; see the video clip, above), which sets his or “spider sense” tingling for any, all, and no reason, so that he or she constantly perceives him- or herself to be in imminent danger. If this person is also a highly trained assassin or warrior, danger might well ensue—but because of his or her paranoia; in other words, this character becomes the source of danger he or she perceives.

Plenty of the other phrases listed on the Phrases website, mixed with a bit of imagination, can produce similar ideas for plots. Visit the site, and dig in!

Plotting Board, Part 8

Copyright 2019 by Gary L. Pullman

Although there are several patterns of plots, one is the three-part structure described by Aristotle in his Poetics: beginning, middle, and end. We can think of this three-part structure as consisting of a cause of an action by which action an effect is produced:

1. Cause
2. Action
3. Effect

Every effect, or outcome, can be either comic (end well for the protagonist) or tragic (end poorly for the protagonist).

With this in mind, many varieties of plots can thus be developed:

The Problem-Solution Plot

1. Problem
2. Solution
3. Effect (Outcome)

As Good As It Gets (1997) uses this plot:

1. Problem: Misanthropic Melvin Udall suffers from an obsessive-compulsive disorder
2. Solution: Melvin falls in love with Carol Connelly, a server.
3. Outcome: Through his relationship with Carol, Melvin reaches the point at which he can overcome his obsessive-compulsive disorder.

The Sex-Violence Plot

1. Sex
2. Violence
3. Outcome

Fatal Attraction (1987) uses this plot:

1. Sex: Dan Gallagher has an affair with Alexandra "Alex" Forrest.
2. Violence: Unstable and possessive, Alex refuses to end the affair, attacking Dan's wife, Beth.
3. Outcome: Dan rescues Beth, who shoots Alex, preventing her from killing her husband.

The Masquerade-Unmasking Plot

1. Masquerade
2. Unmasking
3. Outcome

The Crying Game (1992) uses this plot:

1. Masquerade: Dil, a transvestite, masquerades as a woman.
2. Unmasking: Dil's true sex is revealed as she is about to have sex with Fergus.
3. Outcome: Fergus and Dil remain close friends.

The Victimization-Vengeance Plot

1. Victimization
2. Vengeance
3. Outcome
   
   
   
   
   
   

Sudden Impact (1983) uses this plot:

1. Victimization: Jennifer Spencer and her sister are raped.
2. Vengeance: One by one, Jennifer kills the rapists.
3. Outcome: Detective “Dirty Harry” Callahan learns the serial killer's identity, but lets Jennifer walk.

The Temptation-Sin Plot

1. Temptation
2. Sin
3. Outcome

Joan of Arc (1999) uses this plot:

1. Joan of Arc is tempted to commit the sin of pride.
2. Joan arrogantly insists on attacking Paris.
3. Joan repents and receives God's forgiveness.

The Status Change-Adaptation Plot

1. Status Change
2. Adaptation
3. Outcome

Shakespeare's King Henry IV, Part II uses this plot:

1. Status Change: Prince Hal becomes King Henry IV.
2. Adaptation: Henry IV adapts to his new status, becoming responsible and wise.
3. Outcome: Henry IV defeats his enemies and rules well.

The Threat-Response Plot

1. Threat
2. Response
3. Outcome

Alien (1979) uses this plot:

1. Threat: An alien aboard the Nostromo space tug threatens Warrant Officer Ripley and the rest of the vessel's crew.
2. Response: Ripley fights the alien.
3. Outcome: Using her wits, Ripley defeats the alien, opening an airlock, which causes the creature to be sucked from the vessel, and blasts it with Nostromo's engine exhausts.

The Role-Reversal Plot

1. Role
2. Reversal
3. Outcome

The Final Girl (2015) uses this plot:

1. Role: Veronica poses as a helpless young woman, allowing four teenager serial killers to “lure” her into a forest as their next intended victim.
2. Reversal: Actually a highly trained assassin, Veronica, the boys' intended prey, becomes the predator.
3. Outcome: One by one, veronica kills her would-be killers.

There are plenty of other variations on this basic plot pattern. Perhaps we will consider others in a future post.

Plotting Board, Part 7

Plotting Board, Part 7

In this post, I offer a few tips on plotting, many of which are implied, if not directly stated in Monsters of the Week: The Complete Critical Companion to the X-Files by Zach Handlen and Todd VanDerWerff.

Problem-Solution Plotting

One of the X-Files's enduring plot devices is the introduction of a problem and its eventual solution. The problem-solution dynamic has built-in suspense: once a problem is posed, we want—maybe we even ache—for it to be solved. In The X-Files, the central problem, as set forth in the series's “mythology” about a possible alien invasion preceding possible alien colonization, becomes, more or less continually, more and more complicated, so the solution, which is put off again and again, has a much greater and more intense emotional payoff when it does come—or should have, at any rate.

According to VanDerWerff, episode 16 of season nine, “Release,” finally “wraps up one of the [show's] major [remaining] mysteries” (419). This mystery is “What happened to Doggett's son when he was murdered?” (410) Although this episode “answers that question,” VanDerWerff says, the answer is anything but clear. Perhaps bringing clarity and closure would make a problem-solution plot much stronger, as readers have invested much time and emotion in the ongoing, long-term, increasingly complex problem. After the tease, it's only fair to deliver.

Techno Thrills

Technology is constantly changing and developing. My father's life encompassed by the Model T and the landing of an astronaut on the moon. My own includes black-and-white television which featured, on tiny, thick screens, programming from ABC, CBS, NBC, and a local affiliate, WTTG, to drones, DARPA's robotic wonders, and self-driving cars (and there's still much more to come—or, at least, I hope there will be.)

That's the point that VanDerWerff makes about storytelling when he writes:

. . . Video software and image manipulation programs are getting so good that it will soon be incredibly difficult to ascertain when footage that seems too good (or too bad) to be true has been faked. We won't always know who's dead and who's alive, and all it will take for those in power to introduce suspicion around a certain set of facts is to stand up in front of all of us and shrug and say, “Nobody knows for sure” (469).

As always, the possibilities are only as limited as our imaginations.

Backfield in Motion

A way of developing plots while characterizing characters is to build a character's backstory. Of course, too much of a good thing is generally a bad thing, so writers have to be careful not to include too much backstory and, when they do build such a history, the character's past should be delivered piecemeal over a number of episodes or, if we're talking book series, a number of volumes.

A case in point is “Kitten,” the sixth episode of The X-Files's season eleven. This episode is unusual, VanDerWerff thinks, because it “takes what was already a serviceable character backstory (specifically that of Water Skinner) and attempts a direct dramatization of it” (474). The character's “Vietnam background” was presented in previous episodes (“One Breath,” [season two, episode eight] and “Avatar” [season three, episode twenty one]. In “Kitten,” viewers learn about Skinner's sacrifice of his own “career to support Mulder and Scully” based on Skinner's belief that their “mission to expose the truth of what the country was doing to some of its most vulnerable citizens was more important than his personal advancement” (475).

As long as a character's backstory doesn't start to take over the current story, as it does, for example, in Arrow and verges upon doing in Punisher, building a character's background to show how it has helped to shape him or her, how it has, in part, made him or her the person he or she is today, is a good way to add to a narrative's plot.

Monsters of the Week: The Complete Critical Companion to the X-Files has much to recommend it, not the least of which is its even-handed balance of praise and condemnation for the series it evaluates. Both Handlen and VanDerWerff point out what they believe is right and what they believe is wrong with the series's episodes. Mostly, in reviewing their book, while tossing in a few of my own observations, I've concentrated on what these critics state and imply about the plotting of the sci fi-horror series. However, depending on one's purpose, on how one reads the book, Monsters of the Week can provide a good many more—and different—insights.

And, remember: the truth is out there!

Sounding Board, Part 4

Copyright 2019 by Gary L. Pullman

In this post, I offer a few tips on plotting, many of which are implied, if not directly stated in Monsters of the Week: The Complete Critical Companion to the X-Files by Zach Handlen and Todd VanDerWerff.

 Role Playing

To generate plots, the writers of The X-Files sometimes have a character adopt the role of another literary figure. For example,
VanDerWerff notes that "The X-Files seems heavily influenced by the doubting apostle Thomas," (114) especially in regard to Scully, the series's skeptic who is, paradoxically, also a practicing Catholic.

In addition, in the "731" episode, Handlen explains, Mulder plays a Don-Quixote-like figure who must accept that the "answers" he finds on his "quest" differ from those he'd expected to learn. There are no aliens; his sister, therefore, was not abducted by extraterrestrial beings. Instead, "the government has been kidnapping and running tests on humans and hiding it under the cover of 'alien abductions'" (114-115).

By adopting roles played by earlier characters of other stories, which roles are thematically appropriate to the plight of their own characters, The X-Files writers not only enrich the series's storytelling through allusions, but they also acquire vehicles for advancing their narrative's own plot in a meaningful way.

"Assume" Makes an . . . .

Among the many other plot-generating devices employed by The X-Files writers is that of having a character (often Mulder) make wrong assumptions, which then produce "bad decisions," which, in turn, tend to result in potentially fatal situations (117). For example, Handlen reminds his readers, in the episode "War of the Coprophages," although Mulder and other characters believe "a bunch of bugs from outer space" have come "to earth to mess with our minds," skeptical Scully is right again; the insects "are only cockroaches," just as she'd supposed (116-118). Thanks to the false assumption of the citizens of Miller's Grove, where the roaches land (and to Mulder, of course), quite a bit of the episode's plot is generated, demonstrating the truth of the idea that false assumptions can be effective plot generators.

Either-or Premise

As VanDerWerff notes, The X-Files plays with two alternative explanations as to the causes of the series's strange events: (1) "The government did bad things, and now it's trying to keep them covered up" (Scully's point of view) and (2) "yes, aliens . . . have been visiting our world and, yes, they intend to colonize it" (Mulder's perspective) (124). This either-or premise maintains the series's fantastic character ("fantastic" in Tzvetan Todorov's sense of the word), its mystery, and its suspense, while offering a dual approach to plotting.

Memory Sucks

One way of advancing the plot while examining the human condition is to offer a definition of what it means to be a human being and then, after eliminating this identifying quality, character, or state, explore whether the character from whom the essence of humanity has been stripped is still a person, still a human being. If, VanDerWerff asks, "we are our memories," and those "memories are sucked out," do we still exist as human beings or, as X-Files writer Darin Morgan puts it, "If someone has the ability to manipulate your memory--all your memory--then, what are you, if, say, your happiest memory or your most depressing memory are [sic] all fiction?" (133-135). 

Of course, other writers might posit other characteristics or abilities as essential to human existence as such: intelligence, compassion, the ability to effect cause, religious belief, etc. However, the story would still follow the same avenue: by eliminating this characteristic or ability (or whatever else is considered essential to human existence), it would explore whether the character who lost it remains human at all, and if not, why not. By exploring what it means to be human, writers can generate plots. This approach is most suited, perhaps, to stories of fantasy, but it could inform almost any genre.

We Are What We Choose to Be

Another way to investigate the human condition is to ask not what makes people human, but whether a person is who he or she is because of the way that he or she chooses to live or because of how other people treat him or her.

The "Small Potatoes" episode of The X-Files tests this question, VanDerWerff suggests, by having a shape-shifter become other people--but he always reverts back to his own identity, resigned to being himself. He is who he is because he has adopted the persona (that of a "loser"), based on everyone else's view of him, rather than asserting his own identity through the choices he makes (193-195).

This way of developing plots has the benefit of allowing writers to investigate such heady matters as those which are more ordinarily examined within the sphere of philosophy or psychology,  thereby enriching the more mundane affairs of the typical X-Files story.

In an interesting footnote, as it were, to this question, Handlen suggests that, in fiction, autonomy is represented as an effect of doing; in doing, a character forces others to react to what he or she has done. Mulder, he says, is a doer; therefore, he is autonomous. Scully, on the other hand, more often follows a path set for her by Mulder or someone else; she is more likely to be reactive than active, and she is, therefore, only partially autonomous (224).

NEXT: More of the same! 

Plotting Board

Copyright 2019 by Gary L. Pullman

In this post, I offer a few tips on plotting, many of which are implied, if not directly stated in Monsters of the Week: The Complete Critical Companion to the X-Files by Zach Handlen and Todd VanDerWerff. 

The Truth Is in Here

Characters' motives and goals make a simple story meaningful and significant. Make conduct personal to make it momentous.

Sitdrams Work, Too

Some of the subtitles the authors give to the reviews of X-Files episodes they discuss identify each of the episodes' respective situations; rather than being a situation comedy, or sitcom, The X-Files, it seems, is often something of a situational drama, or sitdram, as it were: “Pilot,” “In which Mulder meets Scully”; “Deep Throat:” “In which a massive conspiracy takes shape”; “Fire”: “In which Mulder faces an old flame”; “Young at Heart”: “In which Mulder has to track down an old foe”; “The Calusari”: “In which there are even more evil twins”; “Piper Maru”: “In which we meet some very strange oil”; and plenty of others.

The Connect-the-Dot Plot

Some X-Files episodes offer a series of images connected by their plots: “Pilot” shows disappearances, Handlen observes, “strange happenings in the woods, . . . little bumps on people's skin [and] . . . a weird, inhuman corpse in a coffin” (4). This connect-the-dots approach to plotting maintains mystery and suspense while providing unity and coherence by delaying the revelation or explanation of the cause of the strange events.

Balancing the Marvelous and the Uncanny

As Tzvetan Todorov points out, the fantastic exists only as long as it is not resolved as either natural (scientifically or rationally explainable) or as supernatural (scientifically or rationally inexplicable). In the former case, the apparently fantastic is uncanny; in the latter, it's marvelous.

Like most other fantastic fiction, The X-Files balances the marvelous and the uncanny, allowing a series of events to be explicable or not, depending upon one's perspective: For Mulder, science or reason can explain little, if any, of the bizarre incidents he observes, while, for Scully, almost everything she witnesses (including most of what Mulder sees) can be explained by science or reason.

For example, as Todd VanDerWerff explains, there is, in episode two of season one, “a spirited argument about whether the phenomenon the two [Mulder and Scully] observed has a paranormal or a scientific explanation” (11). The same is true, pretty much, throughout the series.

Plot Generators

The X-Files uses two plot generators to keep the action coming, episode after episode, week in and week out: “mythology” and the Monster of the Week (MOTW): “The first two episodes of the first season introduced some of the ideas that would power the mythology,” such as “alien abductions, UFO sightings, government conspiracies, and secrets,” while the MOTW provided variety, preventing the series from rehashing these elements and becoming boring an “repetitive” as a result.

As Handlen explains, “The genius of The X-Files as a premise lies in its infinite potential. Centering the show around a department of the FBI devoted exclusively to investigating strange or inexplicable cases means The X-Files can encompass any number of urban legends [and] can cross between science fiction, fantasy, and horror with ease” (11-12). (Later, to this list, the authors add “weird science” and “dramatic stories” of “the personal lives of Mulder and Scully” (14), the latter of which approach sometimes gives the series a soap opera-like character.

MORE next post!

Fandom Wikis: Suspense through Cliffhanger

Copyright 2018 by Gary L. Pullman

Fandom wikis are only as good as the typically anonymous fans who compose the site's articles. For this reason, they shouldn't be used unless one has seen the series—and the particular episode of the series—about which an article comments and knows, therefore, whether the information the fan-writer provides is reliable. (I have found that, in most of the articles I've read, the articles' contents are reliable.)

I mention Fandom wikis because, for writers, these websites can be a gold mine. For example, my wife and I are late to the party in watching Blacklist, a series I suspect I enjoy more than she does. Currently, we're in the middle of season three. One of the features I like about the Blacklist Fandom wiki is the list of questions that appears at the end of many of the articles on the series's episodes. From a writer's point of view, these lists suggest how, whether in writing a stand-alone novel or a series of novels, a writer can maintain suspense by leaving questions he or she has developed open (i. e., unanswered) at the end of a chapter or a section of chapters of a stand-alone novel or at the end of a volume in a series of novels, much as television series leave such questions open at the end of each episode and at the conclusion of each season.

In effect, such open questions are examples of the cliffhanger, a plot device that leaves readers hanging alongside protagonists at the edge of a precipice, literal or figurative. Charles Dickens popularized the cliffhanger, but it's been around since ancient times.

The wiki provides both a synopsis and a detailed summary of each episode, and then lists a series of “Unanswered Questions” that keep viewers in suspense, motivating them to return again next week (or, if one is binge-watching on Netflix, to watch the next episode as soon as possible).

Here is the synopsis of the first episode of season one, “Pilot”:

Ex-government agent and one of the FBI’s Most Wanted fugitives, Raymond "Red" Reddington mysteriously turns himself in to the FBI and offers to give up everyone he has ever worked with including a long-thought-dead terrorist but under one condition – he’ll only talk to newly-minted female FBI profiler, Elizabeth Keen with whom he seemingly has no connection. For Liz, it’s going to be one hell of a first day on the job and what follows is a twisting series of events as the race to stop a terrorist begins.

By clicking on the title, a hotlink, one accesses the page of the site that's dedicated to this particular episode, which offers a detailed summary of the episode and the “Unanswered Questions” it implies. Here are the “Unanswered Questions” that “Pilot” suggests:

1. Why did Red refer to the FBI Ten Most Wanted Fugitives list as a “publicity campaign” and a “popularity contest”? He was/is on the list and deserved the listing.
2. What was in Red’s briefcase?
3. Why did Red surrender his aliases?
4. Why was Donald Ressler, an FBI agent, involved in an operation to assassinate Raymond Reddington? Even for the CIA, the chance of such an illegal operation being exposed would make it risky. Even if the foreign government approved the assassination, why include an FBI agent? Why did Harold Cooper not know of the assassination attempt?
5. How did Ranko Zamani fake his death so that the FBI believed he was dead? Was Eric Trettel involved?
6. How much does Red know about Cooper? He sensed Cooper’s presence because of the “hubris.”
7. Why is Red helping the FBI now?
8. How will Red make Elizabeth Keen famous?
9. What will be the aftermath of the Innkeeper's arrest? Will his network of safe houses be shut down?
10. How many of the Innkeeper's clients will be arrested?
11. How many of the Chemist's clients will be arrested?
12. What number was Zamani on The Blacklist?
13. Why will Red only [sic] talk to Liz?
14. How is Red linked to Tom?
15. Who and/or what is Tom?
16. Why did one of the FBI techs wheeling in the cartons of files on Red have a kippah on?

Some of the questions are complex, others trivial. The answers to the former are likely to unravel over several episodes (if they are answered at all), while the latter may be answered in the next episode (if at all).

The same device, cliffhangers in the form of “unanswered questions,” can work for a novelist just as they do for a screenwriter. Of course, a novelist might have to jog his or her reader's memory from time to time, if the answers to some of the questions are postponed for more than a few chapters or books.

Many TV shows have their own Fandom wikis. By examining them, whether in regard to "unanswered questions" that create and maintain suspense or for other storytelling techniques, writers can continue to hone their own narrative and dramatic skills.