by Sacha Black
The inner goal is almost always inextricably linked to the inner demon (sometimes the soul scar). Dusty the plane, from the earlier Disney movie example Planes, wants to be more than he was built for (his inner goal). But he can’t until he rids himself of his flaw — his fear of heights, derived from his scar, or the anti-theme — thinking you can only be what you were designed to be.
Elaborating on the motive
We’ve talked about the inner and outer goals, but there’s another way to deepen your hero's motive and personality. The more detail you add around his motive, the more believable it becomes.
But that doesn’t mean you need to take an exposition dump in the middle of your chapter. Just knowing the source of your hero’s motive can often be enough for your subconscious to weave in aspects of backstory without slapping your reader across the chops with it.
Ask yourself:
Where does her motive come from?
What wound in her past is the catalyst behind her drive?
How can you flip the motive to make your protagonist’s reaction unexpected?
Example: Eli Ever in the novel Vicious by V.E. Schwab. Eli wanted to study Extraordinary (EO) powers — so much so, he was willing to try and kill himself to gain those powers. When Eli successfully gained his power, he sought out other EOs but no longer to study them; he wanted to kill them because he decided they were an abomination.
Connect motive to history
Think back to the soul scars mentioned in STEP 2 — the wound carved out in your hero’s past that’s led them to the flawed, sensitive mess they’re in. This is one of those infinitely sexy web of connectivity moments. It makes sense for your hero’s current motive to be derived from his soul scar. The soul scar is a gaping hole, screaming out for your hero to fill it with cotton candy and cherub shavings. If your web is fully connected then:
The theme will manifest in a question that your hero needs to answer.
Your hero’s flaw will be derived from the theme and its creation will originate in a soul scar.
Whatever it is your hero wants, he won’t be able to achieve his goal until he’s healed the wound from the soul scar.
Thus he overcomes his flaw.
Your hero’s inner conflict stems from his goal and the turmoil created when he tries to overcome his flaw and the soul scar from his past. External conflict stems from your story goal, i.e. the plot.
STEP 5 – Cutting To The Core Summary
Humans have a ‘why’ for everything. Why is your motive, and your hero needs bucket loads of it.
There should be no coincidences that get your protagonist out of trouble. Using a coincidence to get him into trouble is fine.
A character’s core motive is unlikely to change, but his motive should increase as the plot progresses.
While we’ve established that the core motive doesn’t change, goals often do.
There’s another way to deepen your hero’s motive and personality. The more detail you add around his motive, the more believable it becomes.
The inner goal is almost always inextricably linked to an inner demon.
Your hero won’t always be consciously aware of either his inner goal or his inner demon. But the reader can be if you show them enough memories and scenes demonstrating how your hero developed his wound.
Connect motive to your hero’s history. Know the cause and the reason for their motive, and show readers how they reached this point through backstory and memories. Don’t use blatant exposition.
Questions to think about
What event or experience from your hero’s past is linked to his motive in your story?
What plot points or experiences increase his motive?
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STEP 6 – Arcing On A Journey
We’ve talked about how our stories start in one state, usually with your hero in the dark, flawed and unable to reach their goal. Through the plot and the obstacles your hero faces, she changes to achieve her goal, meaning your story ends in a different, more omniscient state. Story is change.
The change your protagonist undergoes is called a character arc.
A character arc is an inner journey a character goes on during your plot. The arc represents the change in your character, where they begin your story as one person and end it as a different version of themselves because of the experiences they have in your novel.
Character arcs are a vast topic, and this is just one chapter. If you want a more detailed analysis of how to create character arcs, I’d recommend K.M. Weiland’s Creating Character Arcs.
The Arcs
The shape of your protagonist’s character arc will be dependent on your story’s ending. A character with a bad ending — such as where they lose something, descend into villainy or don’t change at all — will have a different arc compared to a character who manages to overcome their flaw. Character arcs come in three forms: positive, negative and flat.
Positive Arc - A positive arc is the most commonly found character arc in both genre fiction and film. The protagonist will start the story in the dark, flawed and unable to defeat the villain. But, through the story, she will encounter obstacles that will change her for the better, enlighten her and give her the strength she needs to defeat her villains. She will end the story in a better place than she started it. A positive arc can take many forms from growth, healing and self-discovery, and usually results in happy story endings. Which is why they are commonly found in romance, Young Adult and children’s stories.
Negative Arc - A negative arc is simply the inverse of a positive character arc. The hero will end the novel in a worse position than she started. Instead of experiencing a journey of change and enlightenment, she will experience a sliding descent into villainy or darkness in whatever form that takes. Like the positive arc, the negative one can come in many forms from being corrupted to being disillusioned. While there are always examples of villains with negative arcs, there are fewer heroes with this arc. Michael Corleone from The Godfather by Mario Puzo, Dorian from The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde and Cersei Lannister from A Song of Fire and Ice by George R.R. Martin.
Flat Arc - A flat arc means your protagonist starts your novel more or less fully formed. Your story is less about the change she undergoes and more about the change she invokes in the story or world. Unlike the other arcs where the story acts upon the hero, in this arc the hero doesn’t change, and so the novel is more plot driven and driven by the changes the hero creates. This structure is most often seen with anti-heroes or serial stories like crime novels or mysteries — think Sherlock Holmes. Also, Katniss Everdeen from The Hunger Games arguably has a flat arc as she doesn’t change herself so much as change the dystopian world around her.
No matter the type of arc, one thing’s fer-shizzle: you do need a change in your story, even if your character’s change is flat and the change happens to your story world.
Start at the end
Most writing advice tells you, when creating your plot, to start at the end. And for good reason. If you know where you want to end up, you can plan a route, create a map and hot foot it to the magical mountain of story greatness.
If it makes sense to start at the end when creating your story structure, then why not when creating your hero, too? Logic with me for a second. If you know what state your hero ends the book in, then you know the type of person she needs to be to defeat the villain. If you know that, then you know she has to start the story in the opposite state. For example, if you know she needs to learn to trust others and build a team around her to win, then she must start alone and arrogant.
The start and end of your book are like north and south for your character arc — they represent polar opposite character states.
Let’s work through a real example.
Example: Protagonist Andy Dufresne, from The Shawshank Redemption by Stephen King. In this story, Andy finishes the story a free man, which mean he must start trapped and imprisoned. These polar states are ofte
n on multiple levels. For example, Andy is trapped physically in prison, but he is also trapped in the psychological torture of being wrongfully convicted as well as the betrayal of his wife. But, by the end of the book, the opposite is true — Andy is psychologically, financially and physically free, but also guilty of committing a crime to get there.
And those two juicy nuggets, dear wordsmithers, give you the bones of a character arc.
You say tomAto, I say tomAHto - arcs and structure
Character arcs and story structure should reflect each other and follow the same ebbs and flows. Where ‘character arcs’ are specific just to your protagonist, story structure reflects the wider shape of your novel. Think of story structure as the foundations upon which your character change is built. That means your character change should be embedded within the structure of your novel, which is why we’re going to frame this chapter using story structure.
Story Structure - character arc’s soul mate
You’d think that story structure would be story structure. One structure in which the myriad of stories could be laid over. But no. Nothing creative is ever simple. There are a crazy number of theories and models proposed for story structure — more structures than bunnies in ol’ Hefner’s mansion.
But, essentially, they all cover the rise and fall of tension and conflict stories progress on as they edge towards the inevitable climax and resolution. For that reason, I’m going to cover three brief but different examples of structure. But first I want to highlight why I’m talking about story structure alongside character arcs.
The hero is the embodiment of your story. His arc is internal, the story arc is external. The rises and falls of both arcs should move together. Which means you can’t talk about one without talking about the other.
“Structure and character are interlocked. The event structure of a story is created out of the choices that characters make under pressure and the actions they choose to take, while characters are the creatures who are revealed and changed by how they choose to act under pressure. If you change one, you change the other. If you change event design, you have also changed character.” Robert McKee, Story, p. 106.
The three models we’ll cover are Christopher Vogler’s twelve-point story structure because I think it provides a deeper level of detail than the other two. But, because I favor simplicity, we’ll look in more detail at both Dan Well’s seven-point plot structure and John Truby’s seven stages of story structure. If you want to read more on this topic, check the Further Reading section in the back of this book for more details and recommendations.
Vogler’s 12 story structure steps
The ordinary world - Vogler argues that before your hero can undertake her journey of change, you must first establish what she is changing from - i.e. what her ordinary, day-to-day world is. In the first Harry Potter book, we meet Harry living with his aunt and uncle under the stairs. While it’s a far cry from where he ends up, it is his ‘ordinary world’ and one he returns to in the summer (when the academic year — and, therefore, story — is over).
The call to adventure - This is the moment the hero is given a problem or challenge she cannot ignore and knows that she cannot remain in her ordinary world. For example, when a dead body arrives for Kay Scarpetta in Patricia Cornwell’s Scarpetta crime series, she knows she must take the case and investigate the murder. For your character’s arc, this is the first moment your hero is presented with an opportunity to change.
Refusal of the call - This is exactly as it sounds. The hero often expresses doubt, fear or a reluctance to leave her ordinary world and undertake the adventure because subconsciously she knows it will involve risk. If they take on the challenge, they will change beyond recognition and some part of them knows this. Just like when we accept a new job, or teeter on the edge of a parachute jump, or venture into the desert, we know those experiences will change our views and perceptions. A fictional example would be when Luke refuses Obi Wan’s request to help Princess Leia and instead returns home to his farmhouse. It’s only when he sees it blown up that he knows without doubt he must take the call and join the fight. And so the story begins ‘proper’.
Meeting the mentor - The mentor role is symbolic of the relationship between parent and child, or doctor and patient. Here, the hero acknowledges that he must change. Through the mentor, the hero becomes aware of his flaw and starts preparing for the adventure the story will bring. Picture Rocky. Eye of The Tiger blaring loudly and a sweaty, boxing, running, stair-climbing montage and you won’t be far off what ‘meeting the mentor’ means.
Crossing the first threshold - The hero accepts the call to adventure and agrees to resolve the challenge or problem posed in the story. As with Luke, this is where your story really begins.
Tests, allies, enemies - To solve the story’s most difficult problem (defeating the villain or resolving the major conflict), your hero will encounter either the villain, his underlings or various mini-conflicts throughout your story. To push your hero through her character arc, these tests/battles/obstacles should make her face her flaw — over and over again, like a nightmarish deja-vu. Of course, to keep your story interesting, each obstacle and encounter needs to be different. But the point is your protagonist should face different aspects of their flaw during these tests. In the movie G.I. Jane, Jordan O’Neill has a perceived weakness: she’s a woman. The soldiers around her, her sergeants and training commanders don’t believe she is strong enough or good enough to be a Navy Seal based purely on the fact she has a womb. During the film, she faces repeated tests based on this flaw — strength exercises, discrimination and bullying — each test pushing her closer and closer to proving herself more than worthy, until the defining moment where, ‘despite’ being a woman, she carries her wounded male sergeant to safety in the middle of a war zone. Thus she earns the respect and position she deserved all along. She also invalidates the perceived ‘female gender’ flaw.
Approach to the inmost cave - After the journey (and tests), be they symbolic or physical, the protagonist will reach a precipice — the edge of her fear — with success in reaching distance. For your character arc, this moment is cause for pause and reflection on the journey and changes your hero has taken to get here. Your readers will be holding their breath, knowing the hero is about to take a leap of faith into the final battle. Often, there’s pause for additional preparation. Think of it as Rocky’s final training session.
The ordeal - This is the first of the big battles. It’s the first serious confrontation with your hero’s fear. In The Matrix, Neo meets the Oracle, and he faces the thing he fears most: the possibility that he is not The One. The audience is on tenterhooks waiting to see whether or not the hero can defeat the villain. Can they face death and win? The villain will usually strike the first heavy blow, knocking your hero down and into the darkest point of his arc. Here, your hero will falter and briefly lose all hope of success.
Reward (seizing the sword) - Having faced an initial battle, the hero will find, discover or receive the final piece of the jigsaw. King Arthur receives Excalibur, Neo (after dying) receives a kiss from Trinity, making him realize he is The One. After a dip in your hero’s arc, this is the catalyst that spurs him over the top of the arc. It’s the epiphany moment when your hero realizes what his flaw is and how to overcome it.
The road back - The hero must deal with the consequences of facing his fear in the first battle, and the knowledge that she must return to the ordinary world. Often ‘the road back’ is the final epic cat and mouse chase scene. Your hero’s arc is almost complete. They understand how to defeat the villain, they have the puzzle pieces and they can see their flaw clearly. Not only do they see it, they know how to defeat it.
Resurrection - And so the hero must face the final symbolic (or actual) confrontation with death. The villain often tries to get one last shot in. For example, in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, after Robin defeats the Sheriff of Nottingham, Mortianna the witch stands and runs at bo
th Robin and Marion with a sword. Azeem (Robin’s friend) throws a sword through the door, striking her down for good.
Return with the Elixir - The hero returns victorious, having defeated the villain, to the ordinary world. However, he returns changed. His arc is complete, but he returns with something additional, whether that’s love, the holy grail or wisdom.
For more on this method of outlining, read The Writer’s Journey Mythic Structure for Writers by Christopher Vogler.
John Truby’s seven stages of story structure
Weakness and need
At the start of your novel, your hero should not be aware of his weakness. Why? Because the flaw is inextricably linked to his character arc. The character arc is the journey your hero takes to overcome his weakness. The villain is usually a symbol or manifestation of the opposite state of the hero’s flaw, which is why defeating the villain enables the hero to overcome his inherent flaw/need.
Desire
This is what the hero wants — the goal of the story. But desire and need are different. Need is internal to the hero, desire is external and connected to the story. Think of them as inner and outer goals, like in STEP 5.