
In the last post of this series, I told you that plot was a causally connected sequence of beats and events. That still holds true. But it’s time, I think, to dig a little deeper.
There’s something really elusive about defining plot – about finding the common denominator between all stories. I’ve looked at quite a few attempts to define it – dictionaries, theory books and more. I probably should mention Story by Robert McKee, because my definition builds mainly on his theories.
One more thing, before we go into it: When I talk about plot on this blog, I talk about plot in Western stories. I’m sadly not too well versed in other cultural forms of storytelling, and even though I read quite a lot by non-Western authors, these stories have mostly assimilated to Western tastes. So, please, let me know in the comments if something in your culture differs. I can’t wait to learn more.
Plot (as found in Western stories) is the movement from one point by a purposeful character, who overcomes a central conflict, to another different point, following expected narrative conventions, obeying the rules of the narrated world and being held together by an overarching theme.
Or, put visually:

There has to be movement in a plot, or else nothing happens. Movement means change: Most likely, your protagonists will cross the border from their comfort zone into the unknown. Think Bilbo Baggins leaving the shire for the first time, or Vianna Rocher deciding to settle down in the village of Lansquenet-sous-Tannes.
Movement doesn’t necessarily mean that your heroes need to physically move. It simply says that there needs to be a shift in values, world view (and sometimes location). The plot of The Hobbit follows Bilbo’s travels from the shire and back. But it also follows his travels from hesitating no-one to hero in his own right.
Plot needs movement to keep readers invested. As soon as it becomes static, there is nothing to read about.
If we talk about plot, we invariably talk about character as well. There can be no movement, after all, without someone who moves. Oftentimes, stories are filtered through the eyes of our main character, but that needn’t be the case to qualify as plot.
A good plot, however, will have a main character with purpose. With a goal. Someone who thinks he knows what he wants. This goal can be bold and proactive: Someone wants to save the world. Someone wants to get the love interest. Someone wants to challenge fate. But it can also be passive and quiet: Someone wants to be left alone.
This goal is what gets a character going. It gives him a direction to move in. That doesn’t mean that the goal will always be the (metaphorical) place, in which a protagonist ends up. It’s merely a starting point. In some awfully good stories, the denial of the hero’s goal is exactly the thing that is so satisfying: The heros doesn’t get what they want, but they might get what they need. Or they get their goal but realise, another route would have been better for them.
Bilbo Baggins sets out to experience adventure and he reaches that goal, becoming a true hero. Romeo and Juliet’s goal is to be able to love each other unashamedly – they die before they reach it, but thereby mend their family feud. Having a goal propels all of them into their story, no matter where they end up.
If there were no conflict, there would be no plot to tell. Someone would just want something and get it. Think of this story: Katniss Everdeen wanted to live a life surrounded by her friends and family, without ever having to worry. All was good. – Doesn’t quite read like a bestseller, does it?
But if we write it like this: Katniss Everdeen wanted to live a life surrounded by her friends and family, without ever having to worry. But the Panem government was set on killing her sister and everyone she loved. So, she overcame many an adventure and finally faced her oppressor face to face. After peace was restored, finally all was good. Now, we have something I’d call a plot.
Bear in mind, that there will be more than one conflict in your story. Having a villain, a force of nature, or self-doubt as the main conflict is great. But you will need micro-goals and micro-conflicts along the way.
You may interject that not every protagonist is able to overcome the conflict they’re presented with. I referenced Romeo and Juliet earlier. They certainly didn’t “win” in their plot. But, in my opinion, they still overcame the conflict by escaping it. If a hero is defeated by the forces that go against him, the conflict is still overcome, if in this defeat the conflict ceases to exist for the hero.
Narrative conventions in Western storytelling are quite simply put everything you might find in “How To”-books on writing. They’re the inciting incident, the climax and the denouement – the beginning, middle and end. They’re the classic meet-cutes and third act misunderstanding in rom-coms, or the villain speech in spy thrillers: They’re what we expect to get when reading a certain story.
But they’re more than that: They’re being able to trust a narrator. Being told the story in somehow chronological (or at least causally motivated) order. Receiving all the information necessary in order to solve a murder in a crime thriller. Narrative convention is an unwritten agreement between writers and readers. If you decide to break any of it, you should have a good reason to do so.
This one is quite simple: When you begin a story, you set up a world with certain rules and limitations. Be it a facsimile of our own reality (as in Romeo and Juliet), something totally fantastical (as in The Hobbit) or something in between (as in The Hunger Games). Once established, you have to follow these rules.
Romeo and Juliet wouldn’t have been a real plot if Friar Tuck revealed in the fifth act that he had magic powers to revive the two lovers, or even if the families ceased to feud just because their children asked them to. The rules of the world are clear: This is a reality without magic, and these families will fight until something horrible happens. Anything else would be a broken promise.
Theme sounds pretentious, I know. But it doesn’t have to be so high and mighty; it can be a real and tangible thing: “Love vs hatred” in Romeo and Juliet. “The power of the oppressed” in The Hunger Games. Responsibility for one’s actions in Frankenstein. A theme holds together a plot and stops it from seeming random and contrived.
But don’t worry. Most of the time, you don’t have to decide on a theme. You’ll find it while writing and can adjust afterwards.
My definition of plot is one that applies to the most universal stories, or at least to the most commercial ones. You can break these rules. Just now, that the farther you stray from them, the more you’ll find yourself in the territory of literary fiction.
Here’s a list of ways you could deviate from commercial storytelling, mainly taken from Robert McKee’s Story as well:

And here are some famous stories that break the mold:
Do you know any more rule-breaking stories? Let me know in the comments below.
Story is the (highly) selective retelling of a plot.
But, and herein lies some fun of writing: Not all of the plot needs to be in story. Not everything needs to be in chronological order. And every bit of plot can be told as often as you want to.
Some brilliantly written films tell the same event from different viewpoints, e.g. Rashomon by Akira Kurosawa. Some stories begin close to the end and fill in the blanks by flashbacks, e.g. Beloved by Toni Morrison. Some skip around in time to create the illusion that everything is connected, e.g. The Midnight Circus by Erin Morgenstern.
In story, every treatment of plot is possible. You (or rather your narrator) can tell it straightforward, lie about it, or play with it in front of your readers’ eyes. Just have fun with it.
Also: A story isn’t confined to a single plot. In most novels, movies, and TV shows you a main plot and several smaller ones. They can share their protagonists or they don’t.
In Angels & Demons by Dan Brown, the main plot concerns the unveiling of the mystery with Robert Langdon as the protagonist. Langdon is also the protagonist of the romantic sub-plot. In Cloud Atlas, there are several groups of protagonists, each with their own plots that are all connected throughout history. Both are effective examples of story.
The main thing to remember while converting plot to story is my favourite motto: Content dictates form. If you let the character of the narrator guide you in how to structure plot into story, nothing should go wrong.
I always set out to write a short and sweet blog post, but somehow I always end up with these monstrous masses of words. But don’t fret, I’ll summarise the most important points for you:
Happy writing,
F.G.
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