Plot has long been a contentious subject among writers. Some see it as the skeleton that gives a story its shape, essential for guiding readers through a narrative with coherence and purpose. Others view plot as a constraint, a rigid framework that stifles creativity and the organic flow of a story.
In the world of literary fiction, where character development, language and theme often take precedence, the idea of plot can feel almost reductive. Yet, even those who rebel against traditional plot structures still create something which is concrete in form. I therefore believe in my bones that even if a novel does not embody a traditional plot it still has, by its very nature, a structure – a way you can describe how the writer has approached putting one word after another to construct something tangible. And, ideally, we should be able to pinpoint why an author has made that decision.
A story, in its simplest form, is a sequence of events that unfold over time, typically following the classic structure of a beginning, middle and end. This tripartite structure is fundamental to storytelling, providing a sense of order and progression that helps the audience navigate the narrative.
This framework is not just a mechanical process; it’s a way to make sense of the human experience, reflecting the natural progression of life’s events from inception to conclusion. We are, at the end of the day, storytelling animals.
The writer’s job is to get the main character up a tree, and then once they are up there, throw rocks at them.
Vladimir Nabokov
Plot is what gives shape and meaning to this structure, transforming a mere sequence of events into a cohesive and compelling story. While a story can simply recount events, a plot imposes causality, ensuring that each event leads logically to the next. This causality is what drives the narrative forward, creating a sense of inevitability and purpose.
For instance, in a well-constructed plot, the decisions and actions of characters directly influence the outcome of the story, making the resolution feel earned rather than arbitrary. Plot also introduces the crucial elements of conflict and tension, which are necessary to maintain the audience’s interest. Without plot, a story risks becoming a disjointed series of events with no clear direction or significance.
Moreover, plot serves as a blueprint that helps writers shape their narratives with intentionality. It allows for the careful planning of key moments – such as turning points, climaxes and resolutions – that give the story its emotional and thematic impact. By defining the arc of the story, plot ensures that the narrative has momentum, with each scene contributing to the overall trajectory. This is particularly important in longer works, where maintaining coherence and engagement over hundreds of pages requires a well-thought-out plot.
This intentionality carries over if a writer chooses not to use a traditional plot. The decision should be made for a reason and that choice about plot should still be able to be analysed – for example, we should be able to ask questions such as, ‘What does the arbitrary plot say about, possibly, the arbitrary nature of life?’ The decision not to use a more traditional plot structure should never be merely an act of rebellion.
Ultimately, while the story provides the raw material, it is the plot that organises and elevates this material, turning it into a structured narrative that resonates with readers on both an intellectual and emotional level.
The king died and then the queen died is a story. The king died and then the queen died
of grief is a plot.
E.M. Forster
E.M. Forster famously distinguished between story and plot, defining a story as ‘a narrative of events arranged in their time sequence,’ whereas a plot is ‘also a narrative of events, the emphasis falling on causality’. This distinction is crucial for writers to understand, as it highlights the difference between simply recounting events and weaving them together in a way that gives them meaning and depth.
While some authors, like Virginia Woolf, eschew plot in favour of stream-of-consciousness and character-driven narratives, others, like J.K. Rowling, meticulously plot their stories to ensure every element connects and culminates in a satisfying resolution. No matter where you fall on the spectrum, understanding the various methods and structures available can be invaluable. It provides a toolkit that you can draw from, whether you're plotting every twist and turn in advance or letting your characters lead the way.
I have compiled below a list of various narrative theories and structures, each accompanied by examples. While the summary may not cover every possible approach it serves, hopefully, as a valuable reference to guide you in selecting the best structure for your novel. If you search for any of the below approaches online there is a raft of images, diagrams and explanations.
In part b in two weeks, I will provide a more detailed summary of some of the common approaches to plot.
Three-Act Structure: The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins
Five-Act Structure: Hamlet by William Shakespeare
Hero’s Journey: The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien
Heroine’s Journey: Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë
Freytag's Pyramid: Oedipus Rex by Sophocles
Dan Harmon's Story Circle: The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien
Pixar Story Structure: Charlotte's Web by E.B. White
Disney Model: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis
In Medias Res: The Iliad by Homer
Snowflake Method: The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown
Episodic Structure: A Visit from the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan
Stream of Consciousness: Ulysses by James Joyce
Modular Novel: House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski
Dual Narrative: The Hours by Michael Cunningham
Seven-Point Story Structure: Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone by J.K. Rowling
‘Save the Cat’ Beat Sheet: The Fault in Our Stars by John Green
Fichtean Curve: The Trial by Franz Kafka
Fractal Structure: Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell
Rashomon Effect: As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner
Parallel Narrative: Atonement by Ian McEwan
Puzzle Structure: Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn
Circular Structure: One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Frame Story: Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
Unreliable Narrator: The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Reverse Chronological Structure: The Night Watch by Sarah Waters
Fragmented Narrative: The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner
Braided Narrative: The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver
Mosaic Structure: If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler by Italo Calvino
Subplot Structure: Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
Anthology Structure: Winesburg, Ohio by Sherwood Anderson
Time-Loop Structure: The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August by Claire North
Anti-narrative: Naked Lunch by William S. Burroughs
The beauty of novel writing lies in its diversity. There is no one ‘right’ way to structure a novel – what works for one writer or story might not work for another. Writers might, in fact, use a different approach to plot for each book they write.
Whether you meticulously plan every detail or let the story unfold organically, the important thing is to know why you have chosen to do what you do; to learn about and experiment with different methods so you can understand their strengths and limitations, and to select the one that best serves your story.
As Leo Tolstoy once said, ‘The best stories don’t come from good vs. bad but good vs. good’. This applies to novel structures as well – there are no bad structures, only different tools for different kinds of stories.
Megan x