Catalysts often come in the form of bad news (a letter in the mail, a phone call, a death, getting fired, being diagnosed with a deadly disease). Not always, but often. Why? Because most people won’t change their ways until something bad happens. Bad news often paves the way to good things. Without any bad news, your hero would be perfectly content just going about their flawed little life, being their flawed little self. Maybe even forever! But would your reader be just as content? No. Your reader wants to see something happen. They want action. They want a twist. They want drama.
Whether they realize it or not, they want a Catalyst.
The Catalyst is a single-scene beat in which something happens to the hero to send their life in an entirely new direction. Notice that I emphasize the word “to.” The Catalyst always happens to your hero. It’s something active that will bust through the status quo and send them on the road toward change.
Essentially, it’s a wake-up call. Or a call to action. Time to open your eyes and start looking at the world in a new way. The Catalyst should be BIG. Don’t wimp out on me with a weak little Catalyst. I see this happen all the time in my workshops. Students will pitch a Catalyst for their story and the rest of us will go, “Yeah? So?”
Conflict is what makes for good fiction. It’s what makes for good story. Without it, you run the risk of your readers saying, Yeah? So? And that’s the last thing you want your reader to say. Your reader’s response to your Catalyst should be Whoa! I didn’t see that coming! How are they ever going to recover from that?
Now that sounds like an effective Catalyst.
So how do you know if your Catalyst is big enough? Ask yourself the following question: Can my hero easily return to their normal life and continue doing what they were doing after this happens?
If your answer is yes, your Catalyst isn’t big enough.
If your answer is Heck no! then you’re on the right track.
5. DEBATE
WHAT DOES IT DO? Shows how resistant your hero is to change and/or prepares your hero for the break into Act 2.
WHERE DOES IT GO? 10% to 20% (This beat takes us from Catalyst to the end of Act 1.)
For every action, there is a reaction. And for every Catalyst, there is a Debate. For every breakup, firing, disease diagnosis, arrest, dead body, and phone call with bad news, there is a period in which the hero of the story sits down with a huge sigh and goes, What now?
It is a reaction beat, and it usually comes in the form of a question.
Like What do I do? Should I go? Should I stay? How will I survive? What happens next?
And along with the hero, readers will be asking the same Debate questions: “Will Robert Langdon help solve the murder of the museum curator?” (The Da Vinci Code). “Was the marriage to the king real or just a ploy to sleep with Elizabeth?” (The White Queen). “How will Phoebe handle the football team’s head coach?” (It Had to Be You). “Will Hazel and Augustus get together?” (The Fault in Our Stars). “What will Decker do now that someone has confessed to the murder of his family?” (Memory Man). “Can Louisa do this job?” (Me Before You). “Will Opal keep the dog?” (Because of Winn-Dixie). “Will Starr speak up about what she saw on the night Khalil was shot?” (The Hate U Give).
The Debate is the time in your story for your hero to take a step back and decide how they’re going to proceed after this life-altering Catalyst has knocked them down.
But why do heroes debate? Why can’t they just get their life-changing news and move on? Because it’s not realistic. Pondering and weighing options and gathering more information is what we do as humans and heroes. Remember, no one accepts change right away. No one goes, Oh well, I guess my status quo life didn’t work out after all; time to change my ways!
Nope. Heroes drag their feet. They hem and haw.
They debate.
It’s a multi-scene beat in which you visibly show us how resistant your hero is to accept the change that’s been thrown at them. An effective way to do this is to take your hero back to home, work, and play. Show them struggling to decide what to do next in all aspects of their life. Because if they decide too quickly, you risk losing credibility with your reader.
Now, I should note, the Debate doesn’t always have to be a decision. Sometimes it’s not a matter of whether or not your hero will go or stay, act or not act. Sometimes that part is obvious. Like in The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. Katniss is clearly not going to change her mind after volunteering to take her sister’s place in the reaping. Or in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. After learning he’s a wizard and has been accepted to Hogwarts, Harry doesn’t have to think that hard about whether to go.
So, what does your hero do in these situations? They prepare for the big journey. They gather supplies. They train. They prep mentally, physically, and emotionally. The question in this type of Debate is usually something like, I know I’m going, but am I ready?
Whether your Debate is a decision or a preparation, all Debates are designed to do one thing: get your hero and your reader ready for what they’re about to encounter in Act 2.
Because trust me, it’s going to be unlike anything they’ve ever seen before.
Act 2
You need to know one very important thing about Act 2, arguably the most important thing to know about the entire beat sheet:
Act 2 is the opposite of Act 1.
If Act 1 is the thesis—the status quo world—then Act 2 is the upside-down version of that. The polar opposite. The inverse. The antithesis.
I can’t overstress this. I see so many fantastic, beautifully written, promising novels fall apart in Act 2 because the author forgot to build this simple, yet crucial element into the blueprint of their story. Act 2 needs to be as different as possible from Act 1. So, let’s see what we’re dealing with in this upside-down world.
6. BREAK INTO 2
WHAT DOES IT DO? Brings the hero into the upside-down world of Act 2, where they will fix things the wrong way.
WHERE DOES IT GO? 20% (Before you get one-quarter of the way through your novel, there should be a clear Act break.)
The game is afoot! The challenge is accepted! The adventure is upon us! The new way of life has begun! The Debate is over, our hero knows what they have to do, and now it’s time to do it.
This is our clear and defined break into the upside-down world of Act 2. Ta-da!
If you’ve designed your Act 2 world well (that is, different from Act 1!), then the transition should seem very obvious to the reader. There’s no doubt about it. We are not in Kansas anymore.
Katniss Everdeen enters the Capitol (The Hunger Games), Auggie Pullman starts middle school (Wonder by R. J. Palacio), Robert Langdon is now on the run from the French police (The Da Vinci Code), Jack escapes Room (Room by Emma Donoghue), Elizabeth moves into the castle in London (The White Queen), Jane sets out for Thornfield to be the new governess (Jane Eyre), Hazel and Augustus start a relationship (The Fault in Our Stars).
It’s important to note that heroes don’t have to physically go anywhere in order to Break Into 2. But they do have to try something new. A new relationship, a new way of approaching life, a new job, a new persona at school. Regardless of whether your hero goes on a literal journey or a metaphorical one, the Break Into 2 is the moment when we leave the old world and old way of thinking behind and step into a new world and new way of thinking. It’s a single-scene beat. You get one scene or chapter to break your hero into Act 2. That’s it. So make it a good, effective break.
How do you do that?
You make sure the choice to Break Into 2 belongs to your hero.
They must be proactive about it. The decision can be put before them by someone else, but the actual choice to act must be theirs and theirs alone.
Regardless of the flaws you’ve set up in Act 1—regardless if your hero is meek or indecisive, or foolish, or selfi
sh, or cowardly—this is where all heroes prove they have something in them worth rooting for. Something worth reading about. This is where all heroes show they’re at least somewhat willing to try something new.
No one wants to read about a lazy hero who sits around all day doing nothing about their imperfect life (well, at least not beyond Act 1). If, in the Debate, the hero asks, “What should I do?” then the Break Into 2 is the hero saying, “I should do this! And I will!”
Does this mean that your hero has learned the theme and has finally figured out how to fix their life? Not quite.
Let’s briefly return to the wants and needs. Remember those external and internal goals we set up in the last chapter? If you asked your hero, “What do you think will fix your life?” they would probably answer with something external, like “A better job!” “A new girlfriend!” “To win the world championship!” “To kill the evil queen who murdered my whole family!”
If you’ve set up your wants and needs correctly, your hero’s external goal (want) is not what will inevitably fix their life. They think it is. They’d bet their life on it! But in the end, it’s their internal or spiritual goal (need) that will make them a better person.
At this point in the story, as our hero is making their proactive decision to Break Into 2, they are still being motivated by what they want. They’re still chasing after that external goal. Maybe they’ll get it, maybe they won’t. But by the end of the novel, it won’t matter, because they’ll have gotten what they need. They’ll have learned their life lesson. They’ll have learned the theme.
That’s why I like to call Act 2 fixing things the wrong way.
Louisa Clark starts working for the Traynors in Me Before You only because she wants a job so she can help provide for her working-class family. Eventually, yes, that job will help her learn her life lesson of independence (needs), but that’s not why she’s doing it now.
Opal Buloni adopts Winn-Dixie in Because of Winn-Dixie because she wants a friend. And eventually, yes, that dog will bring her and her father together (needs), but again, that’s not her reason for adopting the dog.
And Tom Joad is setting off for California with his family because he wants work, not because he knows he’s destined to become an advocate for the migrant working community (needs). That comes later.
At this point in the story, your hero is making an effort. They’re getting off their butt. They’re rallying. They’re doing what they think has to be done to solve whatever problems you’ve set up in Act 1, and we have to give them credit for that. They’re trying.
But they’re making uninformed decisions. They’re still motivated by those wants. They’re fueled by the A Story (the external story). So yeah, in Act 2 they might be slaying dragons and solving clues and kissing boys and flying spaceships in intergalactic wars, but these things, while übercool, are not the answer. They won’t fix what needs to be fixed in the long run.
Don’t get me wrong. We want to see this stuff. This is what great books are made of. You can’t write a story that’s all theme and life lessons. (Yawn!) You need the fun stuff too. You need the A Story.
But whatever decision your hero makes when they Break Into 2 is a temporary solution. It’s the Band-Aid they’re slapping on to hide the wound underneath. It’s not true healing. Because those flaws are still in there, wreaking havoc. That shard of glass, which has made them who they are, is still buried. And so, at the Break Into 2, your hero is not yet solving anything on a deeper, spiritual level. Ergo, they’re fixing things the wrong way.
That’s not an insult to your hero. It’s just part of the master plot manipulation. Because you can’t figure out the right way until you’ve first tried the wrong way.
And trust me, the wrong way can be a lot of fun, as you’ll soon see in the Fun and Games beat.
But first, it’s time to meet some new people.
7. B STORY
WHAT DOES IT DO? Introduces the character who will somehow represent the B Story/spiritual story/theme and help your hero learn it.
WHERE DOES IT GO? 22% (Usually happens right after the Break Into 2, but can come earlier. Just make sure it happens in the first 25% of the novel.)
Remember when I said Act 2 is the upside-down version of Act 1? That means everything in Act 2 should be upside-down versions of everything in Act 1. Even the people.
In the Setup, we introduced the A Story characters. These are people who come from the hero’s status quo world. They represent the external story. They don’t necessarily have to go away after the hero enters Act 2, but they will inevitably take a backseat to the person or people we’re going to meet in this new world.
Enter the B Story character!
The B Story character is a helper character—the person who’s ultimately going to somehow help your hero learn the theme. They usually come in the form of a love interest, a new friend, a mentor, or a nemesis. Yes, B Story characters can be enemies! I’ve seen it done well many times.
There are only two criteria for being a successful B Story character (others need not apply):
They must in some way represent the upside-down Act 2 world.
They must in some way help guide the hero toward their life lesson or theme.
The first criterion means that the hero could never have met or noticed this character in Act 1. It was only because of the Catalyst and subsequent Break Into 2 that this B Story character fully came into the hero’s life.
Think about Peeta Mellark in The Hunger Games. Yes, he’s lived in District 12 with Katniss his whole life. And yes, they did have a few brief encounters in the past. But it isn’t until Katniss volunteers as a tribute and gets shipped off to the Capitol that Peeta becomes a major player in her life.
In Jane Eyre, the mysterious and ill-tempered Mr. Rochester very much embodies the equally mysterious residence of Thornfield Hall where Jane kicks off her Act 2 adventure.
And what about Peter Van Houten, the reclusive author that Hazel and Augustus meet in Amsterdam in The Fault in Our Stars? Sure, Hazel was obsessed with him before, but it’s not until after she meets Augustus that Peter enters Hazel’s world in a real way.
All of these B Story characters are, in some way, products of the Act 2 world.
But why should the B Story character be a product of the new world? Because—remember?—the hero can’t learn the theme and complete their transformation in their Act 1, status quo life. That’s why we gave them their Catalyst to kick them into Act 2. Therefore, the person who’s helping them learn that theme should exist in this new world. Otherwise, they could have learned that same theme by staying exactly where they were. And where’s the fun in that?
The B Story character can help guide your hero toward their life lesson in a variety of different ways. For example: Your B Story character can be the embodiment of the theme. Like Peeta Mellark in The Hunger Games. Right before the Games officially begin, Peeta says to Katniss, “I keep wishing I could think of a way to…to show the Capitol they don’t own me. That I’m more than just a piece in their Games” (page 142). This is the ultimate lesson (theme) that Katniss will learn: how to defy the Capitol, instead of just playing by their rules to survive. And it’s Peeta, the B Story character, who helps her get there.
Or your B Story character can be someone who, by their very nature, brings out the theme in the hero. Like Mr. Rochester in Jane Eyre, whose bossy, cantankerous nature actually inspires meek Jane to be bolder and assert herself and her independence more.
Or your B Story character could be someone who suffers from the same flaws as your hero, but in an even more exaggerated way, thus holding up a mirror to your hero’s flaws and allowing them to see the truth for themselves. Think about how sad, bitter, and lonely author Peter Van Houten has become in The Fault in Our Stars. Witnessing this only pushes Hazel to love Augustus more fully, regardless of how badly she
might get hurt.
However you choose to do it, helping the hero learn the theme is the ultimate role of the B Story character. And they’re introduced here, in this single-scene beat, somewhere in the first half of Act 2 (usually during the Fun and Games beat). The B Story character will appear all throughout the second and even third act of the novel, but here’s where they first come into the story. Either in the form of a new love interest, new friend, new mentor, or new enemy. It can really be anyone. Just as long as they can effectively bring out your hero’s flaws, and make them want to change.
So, right now you might be thinking, Wait, I only get to introduce one new character in the second act?
No, you can introduce as many characters as you want in Act 2. But the B Story character will be that special character that fulfills that very special role as the ambassador of the life lesson.
And if you’re having trouble figuring out who that special person will be, good news! You can have more than one B Story character! That’s right. Many great novels have what are called twin B stories. This can happen in the form of a love interest and a mentor. Or a love interest and a new friend. Or even two new friends, as is the case with Because of Winn-Dixie, in which Opal meets her two thematic guides—Gloria Dump and Miss Frannie Block—both because of Winn-Dixie, the dog. And both teach her a valuable lesson about her theme of loneliness.
But if you’re going to have more than one B Story character, make sure both characters are fulfilling their duties in this role. And make sure they’re fulfilling it in different ways. Otherwise, why do we need both?
8. FUN AND GAMES
WHAT DOES IT DO? Delivers on the promise of the premise of the novel and shows us how your hero is faring in the new Act 2 world (either having fun or floundering).
Save the Cat! Writes a Novel Page 5