Save the Cat! Writes a Novel

by Jessica Brody

Because despite what you might think, this book is about so much more than just plot. The word “plot” on its own is pretty useless. It’s just a series of events that happen in a story. But structure is the order in which those events happen and, maybe even more importantly, the timing of when they happen. Then you add in a character who needs to change and does change by the end, and presto! You’ve got a story worth telling.

A problem (or flaw that needs fixing) A want (or goal that the hero is pursuing) A need (or life lesson to be learned)

And that brings us to a great tip for writing flawed heroes: Don’t let the problem stay contained to just one area of your hero’s life. Let the problem(s) manifest and spread and infect! Your hero’s problem(s) should be affecting their entire world: their work, their home life, and their relationships. When someone starts reading your novel, they should be thinking something along the lines of, Whoa, what a mess this person’s life is! That’s how you know you’ve done your job.

We turn to story to watch characters fix their problems, better their lives, improve upon their flaws. Great novels take deeply imperfect characters and make them a little less imperfect.

Readers keep reading because they want to know if your hero is going to get what they want.

The most effective character goals or wants are concrete and tangible. The reader should be able to know if and when your hero gets what they want.

Almost every want or goal has an equal and opposite force holding the hero back from achieving it. This force is often presented as a “conflict” or “nemesis.” What is standing in the hero’s way?

Now, it’s important to note two things about wants (or goals). First, they can change as the novel goes on.

the second important thing to note is that not all characters actually get what they want.

Because in the end, the want is only half the story. Heroes aren’t complete until they also have a need. Heroes are often wrong about what will inevitably lead to their own happiness.

it’s easier to yearn for a quick fix than to actually do the real life-changing, soul-searching work.

the truth is, plotting a compelling and engaging novel and crafting a story-worthy hero is a lot like playing psychologist. It’s your job to not only diagnose the real problem in your hero’s life, but cure it as well.

We call that real problem the shard of glass. It’s a psychological wound that has been festering beneath the surface of your hero for a long time. The skin has grown over it, leaving behind an unsightly scar that causes your hero to act the way they act and make the mistakes that they do (flaws!). You, as the author and creator of this world, have to decide how that shard of glass got there.

And most important, what will really fix your hero’s life? What does your hero actually need? This is the third and biggest question you’ll have to ask yourself as you start to develop your novel. This is the crux of your story.

Your hero’s want or goal is an integral part of what’s called the A Story. The A Story is the external story. It’s the stuff that happens on the surface. Car chases; wars; fights in the school hallway; new jobs; casting magic spells; taking on an evil, dystopian government; poisoning the king. Essentially, it’s the exciting stuff. The “cool” stuff. Or what’s also referred to as the premise. On the other hand, the B Story is the internal story. It’s the story that’s intricately linked to what your hero needs to learn in order to change their life, complete their transformation, and enter the hall of fame of story-worthiness. The B Story/internal story/need is what your novel is really about.

The life lesson is the inner journey that your hero didn’t even know they were on, that will eventually lead them to the answer they never expected.

almost every novel throughout time has an internal goal or need that is in some way a derivative of one of the following ten universal lessons: Forgiveness: of self or of others Love: includes self-love, family love, romantic love Acceptance: of self, of circumstances, of reality Faith: in oneself, in others, in the world, in God Fear: overcoming it, conquering it, finding courage Trust: in oneself, in others, in the unknown Survival: including the will to live Selflessness: including sacrifice, altruism, heroism, and overcoming greed Responsibility: including duty, standing up for a cause, accepting one’s destiny Redemption: including atonement, accepting blame, remorse, and salvation

Writing about a hero who transforms—who comes out of the story a different person than who they started as—is the secret sauce of best-selling novels.

And when you can resonate with a reader, that’s when you become a true storyteller.

He was more worthy of an entire plot because he had more changing to do.

The marriage between plot and hero is essential.

Who has the furthest to go? Who has the most to gain from being the hero of this novel? And who is the most resistant to the change?

If you’re writing a story with multiple main characters and/or multiple points of view and you’re still having problems figuring out who the hero is, or whose arc is the biggest, try asking yourself, Which of my main characters is most like my reader?

As readers, we can relate to these people more.

Original is not an achievable goal in novel-writing. So just throw that word out the window right now. What is achievable is fresh.

Basically, readers want the same thing…only different. Readers want to read something they know they will like, told in a way they’ve never heard before.

you are going to use what the publishing industry calls “comparable titles,” or “comps” for short.

Because regardless of whether your Whydunit detective is an amateur who’s never solved a mystery or a private eye who’s “seen it all,” in the end the reader is your true gumshoe. It’s the reader you have to wow with each shocking turn of the cards—clues and reveals set to detonate like bombs at just the right moment, stopping the story in its tracks and sending the mystery in a new direction. And it’s the reader who must be forever changed by what you ultimately reveal about human nature.

the fundamental question behind every good mystery: Why?

three key ingredients to ensure its success: (1) a detective, (2) a secret, and (3) a dark turn.

What all detectives have in common, however, is that they are not prepared for this case, regardless of how many cases they’ve solved before.

This secret is why we search for the truth to begin with. It’s the heart of the Whydunit. It’s what we find in the last dark room. It’s not just the who and the why. It’s the what, where, and when, too! It’s what keeps the reader guessing until the very end.

The dark turn is the moment when the hero breaks or abandons the rules (either their own or society’s) in pursuit of the secret or the truth.

The point of the wrong way ingredient is twofold: it illustrates your hero’s resistance to change and gives your story a purpose. If your hero approached their life problem with grace, humility, acceptance, and gratitude, what would be the point of the book?

we can’t expect life to change, so we’d better change instead.

These are the novels that spotlight groups of people and the ultimate choice whether to be a card-carrying member of the group or go it alone.

The number one indicator of an Institutionalized novel is that the story is about the many. Not necessarily the one.

Can we really trust others to have our best interests at heart? Or does there come a point when we must rely on ourselves? And which one is crazier? The group? Or me for leaving it?

So you, the author of an Institutionalized story, have a fairly tricky task on your hands: honoring the institution you’ve introduced to us, while at the same time exposing the problems of losing one’s identity to it.

the naif is usually introduced to the institution by someone more experienced.

it’s not easy being special, as all the great Superhero novels show us. Being different and bestowed with greatness often comes with a price. And that price is usually some variation of being misunderstood by the rest of the world. Because, let’s face it, we don’t always revere those who are different.

we’ve all experienced the curse of being different, feeling different, or being misunderstood.

The nemesis lacks the one quality that makes for every great superhero: Faith.

Man, that guy must be tired!

Taking our heroes down a peg—giving them a handicap, so to speak (especially at the beginning of the novel or series)—is what makes these stories work.

Getting the reader on your superhero’s side is a constant balancing act. We can’t pity them to the point where we just give up. And we can’t dislike them to the point where we roll our eyes, shut the book, and go searching for something we can relate to. In the end, most of us will never truly understand what it’s like to be a superhero, but we can understand what it’s like to be singled out, ridiculed, and misunderstood.

the bigger the problem, the better the story! But remember, problems are relative. You gotta match your problem with the right dude (or dudette), taking into account your dude’s given background, characteristics, and skill set.

The badder the bad guy, the greater the heroics, the better the story. So make ’em bad. Better yet, make them progressively badder as the story goes on.

It’s important to give your dude the abilities they’ll need to conquer their problem up front, abilities baked right into their character DNA. But it’s equally important that your dude (and your reader) not fully realize their potential and how they can use these skills until the time is right and the ultimate challenge is upon them.

If you want to know whether your problem is big enough, try pitching your story to someone else. Their reaction should be something along the lines of “Dude, that’s a huge problem.” And hopefully their next thought is, What would I do in that situation?