Story Structure as a Fractal

Structure is critical to every story. And it’s highly likely that if you are reading this article, you are familiar with the most basic shape of story structure. This one:

Rising Action: A character starts with a goal, runs into an antagonist, and struggles through conflict.  

Climax: Eventually that conflict hits a peak, where the protagonist will succeed or fail definitively.

Falling Action: With the conflict resolved, the tension dissipates into falling action, and a new normal is usually established.

This is story’s foundational, basic structure. Nearly every satisfying story follows this structure. But this is still rather simplistic, and you can get more complex and detailed than this.

For one, it’s helpful to know that the climax is also what’s called a “turning point”–it turns the direction of the plot. Notice how the story’s “line” in the diagram quite literally, visually turns, from rising action, to falling action at the climax. The plot was going one direction and then wham–it’s now going a different direction. 

A turning point is also known as a “plot point” or a “plot turn.” So we have three different terms for more or less the same thing. One of the quickest ways to gauge if a turning point has happened, is to ask if the character’s current goal or plan has shifted in some way. If the answer is yes, you likely hit a turning point.

The climax is the biggest, most recognizable turning point in a story, and it most definitely shifts the protagonist’s goal–because he will either definitively achieve (or fail to get) that goal. You can learn more about turning points here.

The climax, however, isn’t the only turning point in a story.

In reality, this basic structural shape works as a fractal or a Russian nesting doll.  There are smaller versions of it that exist within the big one.

Just below the narrative arc as a whole, we have another structural unit: acts.

Most commonly, we see stories with three acts. We may view these as beginning, middle, and end.

Frequently, Act II (the middle) will be split in half, because it’s the longest–often taking up 50% of the story. So we have Act II, Part I, and Act II, Part II.

This means, generally speaking, we can divide most stories into quarters.
Act I (Beginning) takes up ~1 – 25% of the story.
Act II, Part I (Middle) takes up ~ 26 – 50%
Act II, Part II (Middle) takes up ~ 51 – 75%
Act III (End) takes up ~76 – 100%

I’m well aware that some writers dislike percentages, but percentages are the quickest way to explain when something should typically happen in a story, and they are just guidelines. Not all stories break down like this, and there is certainly room for variation.

Still, generally speaking, each of these quarters, follows this same shape–it’s just smaller and less pronounced than that of the whole narrative arc.

Each quarter should have a climb, hit a peak, and then have some falling action (which is usually made up of the character’s reaction to what happened at the peak). That peak is a turning point.

For example, in Act I of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, the rising action is Harry dealing with the Dursleys and then trying to get the mysterious letter. It hits its peak when Hagrid arrives and reveals “Yer a wizard, Harry.” That’s the major turning point the beginning has been building toward. Notice it shifts Harry’s goal: Now he wants to go to Hogwarts to learn magic (which will take us into Act II).

Commonly, act-level turning points are called “plot points,” so you may have heard of them referred to as “Plot Point 1,” “Plot Point 2,” or the “Midpoint.” 

However, in other approaches, they may go by different names. For example, Save the Cat! breaks down like this:

Each one is the major “climactic” plot turn of that quarter.

But this shape goes even smaller.

Inside of acts, we have scenes.

Most scenes should also have the rising action of conflict, the peak of a turning point, and the falling action of the character’s reaction.

Most scenes should also have an antagonist and goal.

The difference is that these things will be even smaller and less pronounced–because they fit inside acts.

For example, in Harry Potter, we have the scene where Harry is trying to find Platform 9 3/4 at King’s Cross–that’s his goal. But he’s met with obstacles: he can’t find the platform, he can’t find anyone to help him, he has to run at a barrier. The turn is Harry successfully getting through that barrier; notice it shifts his goal–because he achieved his scene-level desire. The falling action is him reacting to and taking in the platform.

This basic shape can go even smaller, fitting within passages of scenes, or it can be expanded into something bigger, creating a nice structure for a book series.

This basic shape permeates just about everything.