WHERE DOES IT GO? 20% to 50% (This beat spans the entire first half of Act 2.)
The Fun and Games beat is probably the reason your reader picked up this book in the first place.
It’s also called the promise of the premise. Because when a reader starts reading a book, they were most likely told something about this particular beat—either from the summary on the back of the book, a book review, or a fellow reader.
They were promised an astronaut figuring out how to survive on a lifeless planet (The Martian by Andy Weir), a school for witches and wizards (Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone), a boy stuck on a lifeboat with a tiger (Life of Pi), a tattooed punk girl working to solve a forty-year-old mystery of a girl’s disappearance (The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson), a man with a perfect memory solving the murder of his family (Memory Man), or a directionless girl acting as caretaker to an acerbic quadriplegic man in a wheelchair (Me Before You).
So now you, the author, must deliver on that promise. Right here. Right now.
I see a lot of writers get confused by the name of this beat. They look at the Fun and Games beat of novels like The Hunger Games and think, Twenty-four teens killing each other in an arena? That doesn’t sound like a lot of fun for Katniss!
The key to figuring out the Fun and Games beat is realizing that this part of the story might be fun only for the reader. Not necessarily for the hero.
Yes, Harry Potter has a blast when he first gets to Hogwarts. He is having fun in his upside-down magic world. Katniss Everdeen in The Hunger Games? Not so much.
Readers, though, are loving it. Not because they’re sadistic and evil and wish they too were in that arena killing people. But because reading about Katniss’s struggle is interesting and engaging. It’s an Act 1 hero living in an Act 2 world. And if you’ve built your Act 1 and Act 2 worlds to be as different as possible (like I told you to do!), this is automatically fun.
Plus, Katniss fighting in the arena delivers on the premise of the book. Heck, it even delivers on the title of the book!
So to avoid confusion, let’s define the Fun and Games beat like this: a multi-scene beat in which your hero either shines in their new upside-down world or flounders in it.
Because those are your only two options. They’re either loving it or hating it. They’re either grateful they made this leap of faith and went on this adventure, or they’re severely missing their old way of life.
Think about who your hero is. Think about how they’re feeling as they step into their Act 2 world. Are they happy to be there? Or are they miserable? Are they excelling in their new way of life? Or are they struggling?
Now, that doesn’t mean your entire Fun and Games beat has to be all struggle or all success. In fact, I recommend it not be. The Fun and Games is nearly 30 percent of your novel. You have to vary the action.
I call this the bouncing ball narrative. Your hero is up, your hero is down. Things are going swimmingly, things are going horribly. The hero succeeds at something, then fails at something. The girl gets the boy, the girl loses the boy. The detective makes a breakthrough on the case, only to discover it’s a false lead. The king wins a battle, then loses a battle. Up, down, up, down, and so on and so forth. This unpredictable dynamic is how you make your Fun and Games rich, engaging, and most of all, fun!
But despite how many times your ball bounces, in the end there should be a general direction in which the beat is heading: success or failure. This is something you must decide. Is this beat an upward path (the general direction heading toward success) or a downward path (the general direction heading toward failure)?
Once Louisa in Me Before You accepts the job as Will’s companion and decides to convince him not to take his own life, it’s a generally upward path toward the Midpoint. Louisa is making a good wage (wants), and is having a positive effect on Will, which is evident from his improved mood and appearance. The two even share an (ambiguously) romantic night at the symphony together.
Same goes for Mark Watney in The Martian. Despite the Catalyst being catastrophic (Mark Watney is stuck on Mars with no crew and no way home), Mark’s Fun and Games beat is a decidedly upward path as he successfully figures out how to communicate with NASA and grow potatoes in the Hab. So far, it seems as though he’ll actually survive until the next Mars mission arrives.
On the other hand, the Fun and Games beat in The Hunger Games is a decidedly downward path. As the Hunger Games kick off, Katniss is hit from all sides by challenges including dehydration, fire, and tracker jackers (genetically engineered wasps), not to mention twenty-three other teenagers trying to kill her.
Similarly in The Grapes of Wrath, Tom Joad and his family are faced with nothing but failures as they set off for California in search of work in the Fun and Games beat. The family unit even starts to unravel when Grandpa dies and Noah, Tom’s older brother, abandons the group. It’s a clear downward path to the Midpoint.
The general direction of your Fun and Games is a critical decision to be made as you structure your novel. Because as you’ll soon see, whichever path you choose for this beat—upward or downward—will ultimately define not only the next beat (the Midpoint) but the rest of the second act.
9. MIDPOINT
WHAT DOES IT DO? Marks the middle of the novel with either a false defeat or a false victory while at the same time raising the stakes of the story.
WHERE DOES IT GO? 50%
Huzzah! We’ve reached the Midpoint! The very aptly named middle of the book.
The Midpoint is a crossroads of things. Many things.
It’s the middle of the book, yes, but it’s also the middle of the second act, which is a crucial middle of the hero’s transformation.
Wow! That’s a lot of middles!
I’ve heard many authors refer to the middle of a novel as the muddle. Meaning, it’s a messy thing to write. It’s hard to slog through. It feels cumbersome and sloppy. It lacks focus.
When I read a manuscript (or even a published novel), I can tell instantly whether the author understands the function and purpose of the Midpoint. If it feels unfocused and clunky, then they’ve missed a golden opportunity.
The Midpoint is magic. It’s the pivot point in the story. The nail in the wall on which all other beats hang. It is precisely the center of the hero’s transformative arc, and we must use that to our advantage and make the middle as dynamic and exciting as possible.
So what exactly is the Midpoint?
Basically it’s a single-scene beat in which three very essential things happen:
The hero experiences either a false victory or a false defeat.
The stakes of the story are raised.
The A and B stories intersect in some way.
First things first: false victories and false defeats.
Remember when we were in the Fun and Games, and I asked you if your hero was on an upward path or a downward path? Well, if you’ve answered that question, then the good news is, you’re already well on your way to figuring out your Midpoint. See how sneaky I was about that?
The Midpoint is the culmination of whatever path you chose for your Fun and Games. Because essentially, the whole goal of the Fun and Games is to drive the story toward the Midpoint, and to give the Midpoint definition.
If your hero is shining in their upside-down world, if things are generally working out well for them (aside from a few bouncing balls), and Act 2 is proving to be a pretty decent place, then you ultimately have a false victory in your Midpoint. Your upward path has reached a peak. Your hero has seemingly won. Yay for them!
Why is it called a false victory? Because the novel is only halfway finished. If your hero were to really win here, the book would be over at the Midpoint.
Why else is it a false victory? Why haven’t they really, truly won?
Because your hero still h
asn’t learned the theme.
In false victory Midpoints, heroes are usually feeling fairly good about themselves. Maybe they’ve gotten what they want (that external goal you set up in Act 1), or maybe they’re getting close. But unbeknownst to them, their victory is incomplete. Because they have not yet changed the right way. They still have those pesky flaws that have been dragging them down their whole life. They still haven’t dealt with the big issues. And by giving the hero exactly what they want at the Midpoint, you, the author, are essentially shining a spotlight on those bigger issues. You’re showing the reader that the victory was false and that the hero’s wants were superficial because (1) the book isn’t over yet and (2) your hero is still the same flawed person they were in Act 1.
In Me Before You, Louisa’s Midpoint is a false victory. She has a job (her initial goal) and she seems to be making great strides in helping Will live his life to the fullest (her new goal). But has she done anything to live her own life to the fullest (theme)? Not really. Which is evident at the Midpoint (a birthday party at Louisa’s house, which Will attends) when her long-term boyfriend (whom she’s clearly not meant to be with) gives her a gift that proves that, after years of dating, he still doesn’t understand her. Whereas Will, whom she’s known for only a few months, clearly does.
By the Midpoint in The Martian, Mark’s harvesting his potato crops, it looks like he will have enough food to last until he can be rescued, and he’s able to communicate with NASA and even receive emails from his family. All things considered, Mark’s outlook is pretty good. He’s achieved all of his smaller goals from the first half of the book (grow food, communicate with Earth). But his larger external goal of getting off the planet is still yet to be realized, as is his internal goal (theme) of conquering his fears.
On the other hand, if your hero has been floundering like a fish out of water in the Fun and Games beat, then your Midpoint will inversely be a false defeat. The downward path has reached a low point. Your hero has seemingly lost. Maybe they haven’t gotten what they want, or maybe they have and quickly realize it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. They might even feel like giving up at this point.
Why is it a false defeat? For the exact same reasons it was a false victory. The book isn’t over! And your hero still hasn’t learned what you put them into this story to learn.
By creating a Midpoint in which your hero fails to get what they want (fails to achieve their external goal), you are also shining a giant spotlight on the bigger issues. You’re saying to the reader, “Hey! Look! My hero thinks their life is over because they didn’t get this thing that they thought would fix everything.” But obviously that thing wasn’t that important if there’s still half a novel to go. Obviously, there’s a bigger story here.
By the Midpoint in The Hunger Games, Katniss is dealing with dehydration and painful flesh burns. And she’s recently discovered that Peeta (her B Story character) has teamed up with the Career tributes (the teenagers who train all their lives to compete in the Games). After she drops a tracker jacker nest on the Careers, they come after her, ready for revenge. Things are looking pretty grim for Katniss at this point. Her external goal of surviving the Games seems further away than ever, as does her internal goal or theme (of defying the Capitol).
The Grapes of Wrath also features a false defeat Midpoint when the Joad family reaches their destination of California (external goal) only to find that they’ve been deceived. California does not offer the prosperity and jobs they expected. And Tom Joad hasn’t yet fulfilled his thematic destiny to help organize workers and fight for equality (internal goal).
We writers set up these false victories and false defeats so we can do one very crucial thing (the second essential Midpoint element): to raise the stakes of the story.
Up until this point, your flawed hero has been given an opportunity to change their ways and fix those flaws (via the upside-down world of Act 2), but they really haven’t taken advantage of that opportunity yet. As we said, they’re still being piloted by what they want, not by what they need. By raising the stakes of the story at the Midpoint, we’re essentially saying, “Time’s almost up, buddy! No more messing around.” We’re forcing the hero into a new course of action that will inevitably lead to the change they so desperately require.
For this reason, I like to call the Midpoint the “sh*t just got real” beat. In other words, it’s no longer Fun and Games (literally). It’s time to get serious.
So, how do we raise the stakes? Well, that’s up to you. But here are some common stakes-raising methods that you’ll often find in popular novels:
LOVE STORIES RAMP UP: This usually happens in the form of a kiss (or more!), a declaration of love, a marriage, a proposal, anything that ups the ante of a relationship and makes it even more difficult for the hero to go back to their old way of life. Once you’re in love, you’re in love. And even though your hero can still screw it up (and they probably will!), they can’t simply walk away and pretend it never happened. At the Midpoint of The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas, Starr and her boyfriend, Chris, exchange “I love yous” for the very first time. Up until this moment, Starr has been hiding her true self from Chris (by not telling him that she was the key witness in the police shooting of Khalil), effectively still keeping her home world and her school world separate (just as she was doing at the beginning). By upping the stakes of their relationship, author Thomas is essentially saying, “You can’t stay hidden forever, Starr. Things are getting very real, very fast.”
TIME CLOCKS APPEAR: Nothing raises stakes and refocuses your story faster than a ticking clock. A bomb is discovered. A kidnapper sends a ransom note with a deadline. A doctor gives someone two weeks to live. A wedding invitation arrives in the mail with a date three months from now. A terrorist threatens to assassinate a politician at an upcoming rally. These are all great ways to give your story a thrilling boost into the second half of the book. Ticking clocks grab the hero’s (and the reader’s) attention and force them to really think about what’s important and what needs to be done. In The Martian, just as things seem to be going well for Mark Watney, BOOM! The airlock on the Hab breaks, and all of his potato crops are destroyed. His ticking clock (to get off Mars before his food runs out) was just put on fast forward. This will eventually force Mark to put his courage to the ultimate test (theme) if he wants to survive.
A MAJOR GAME-CHANGING PLOT TWIST: This is one of my favorite ways to raise the stakes in a novel, because I love writing plot twists. Essentially, a plot twist is you saying to the hero (and the reader), “You don’t even know the half of it yet. Here’s what you’re really dealing with!” I call this the Midpoint twist, and writers of thrillers and mysteries employ it quite often. In Memory Man, just when Decker and his partner Lancaster start to make some headway on the case involving the school shooting and the death of Decker’s family (false victory), suddenly one of the FBI agents on the case turns up dead at Decker’s front door, and the evidence reveals that the cops are dealing with not one suspect, like they originally thought, but two. This is a double whammy stake raiser. First, someone close to the investigation is dead; then Decker discovers a twist that no one saw coming and that completely changes the case: the killer is working with someone else! Both of these events put extra pressure on Decker to solve the case, not only for the families of the school shooting victims (A Story) but for his own personal closure regarding the murder of his family (B Story).
BIG PARTY, CELEBRATION, OR PUBLIC “OUTING”: If you look at some of your favorite novels, you’ll often find that some kind of big party or celebration with lots of people happens right around the middle of the book. I realize a party or celebration may not seem like something that would naturally raise the stakes, but it is. Up until this point, your hero might have been existing in Act 2, but were they really shouting from the rooftops that this is who they are now? Probably not. Because they probably sti
ll had a piece of their heart left in Act 1. But having them attend what I call a Midpoint party (a social gathering or large celebration with tons of people) essentially gives your hero a chance to step out into their Act 2 world and declare themselves a part of it. In front of everyone. It’s a public “outing” of sorts, which is difficult to back away from. The Midpoint of Me Before You (Louisa’s birthday dinner party) is the first time in the book when Louisa’s parents and boyfriend meet Will, the quadriplegic man she’s been hired to take care of (and is slowly falling in love with). This is essentially a collision of her two worlds and a public outing of this new Act 2 version of Louisa. And by putting these two worlds in the same room together, author Moyes shines a spotlight on how different Louisa has become in the few months she’s been spending with Will.
In all of these Midpoint examples, you might have noticed a subtle shift from wants to needs. This is no coincidence. The third essential Midpoint element is the intersection of the A and B stories, when your hero starts to let go of what they want in lieu of figuring out what they need. Now, granted that’s not all going to happen on the very next page or even in the very next chapter. Your hero still has quite a ways to get there. A whole three more beats, to be exact. But it’s at this moment, when the stakes are raised, that your hero begins to realize they can’t keep going the way they’ve been going. Because either it hasn’t worked (false defeat!) or it has worked (false victory!), but they still feel like they’re missing something.
So this subtle shift from the wants to the needs is often illustrated by a crossing (yes, another Midpoint crossroads!) of the A Story and the B Story. Remember, your A Story is the external story—the whole flashy premise of your novel that you’ve been setting up and paying off since Act 1. And the B Story is the internal story, the spiritual journey that’s represented by the B Story character. Often at the Midpoint the A and B stories cross, meaning A Story characters and B Story character(s) intertwine or cross paths in some way. This is done to visually cue the reader that we are shifting from the wants (the external A Story) to the needs (the internal B Story), even if the reader isn’t quite aware that you’re doing it (more writer manipulation).
Save the Cat! Writes a Novel Page 6