Save Me, Save the Cat: Part Two

We left our hypothetical hero on the horns of a massive dilemma.  [If you’re confused, I’m showing how easily Chapter Four of Blake Snyder’s screenwriting manualSave the Cat can be made to work as a novel outlining template. Read Part One.]  Let’s see what happens with our three act hero next:

6. Break into Two (25):  This is what we’ve been building to.  This is the cataclysmic moment that pushes the hero to decide, once and for all, to undertake the quest, to leave all that he or she knows behind.  Note that the hero does the deciding.

7. B Story (30):  Snyder describes this part as a small breather for the audience.  The B story often covers the hero’s love interest.  But it can also be an aside with a mentor or a trickster that attacks the novel’s hero on a spiritual level.  It’s a good place for the writer to explore the themes of the story.

8. Fun and Games (30-55):  This is tough section of the novel for me.  It’s the muddle in the middle where I always despair.  Snyder says to give the audience a little something of what they came to see, a scene that might not have a lot to do with the main story line but that completes “the promise of the premise.” (Snyder 81)  The book’s cover art may very well come from this section of the book.

9. Midpoint (55):  This is where the hero either hits what feels like their highpoint (but it turns out to be a lie), or the moment that his or her world collapses.  Everything changes for the hero and nothing can ever be the same. Snyder’s very clear about this happening dead center in a screenplay.  As I said in Part One, I don’t know that a novelist needs to be so rigid with the order and size of each Beat.

10. Bad Guys Close In (55-75):  Trusted allies turn out to be traitors in this part.  The enemy “regroups” (Snyder 85).  Things may still appear okay, but the veneer is cracking.

11. All Is Lost (75): “All aspects of the hero’s life are in a shambles.  Wreckage abounds.  No hope.” (Snyder 86) If any of the hero’s allies are going to die they’ll do it in this part of the story.

12. Dark Night of the Soul (75-85):  The hero digs down deep and finds a way to press on.  He or she miraculously digs up out of the despair that the audience has seen almost kill them.

13. Break into Three (85):  A and B stories meet and join up.  The B story proves to have been a useful classroom or laboratory for the hero. In both story lines he or she has learned what’s needed to win.  It’s time to apply that knowledge.

14. Finale (85-110):  This is the plot of every first-person-shooter video game, ever.  The hero takes out the bad guys “in ascending order” (Snyder 90) of difficulty until he or she beats the big boss.  All is saved, the hero has changed in a fundamental way directly related to the ordeals he or she just went through.

15. Final Image (110):  This “is the opposite of the opening image. It is your proof that change has occurred and that it’s real.” (Snyder 90)

These excerpts and notes only touch on small part of Snyder’s book.  No matter what kind of story you’re telling, he’s got an insight into how to do it in a more appealing and satisfying way.  Is it a formula? Maybe.  Or maybe it’s a useful framework for getting out of a hole.  Either way, it’s just one chapter in one book.  If Snyder could read what I’ve done here, he would probably say I’m wrong, you can’t skip or rearrange any of these steps or interpret them as broadly as I have.  Of course he’d probably also point out that he wrote his book for screenwriters, not novelists.  Not to hypothetically speak ill of the dead, but I think he’d be mistaken if said either of those things.  Storytelling is storytelling, no matter how you choose to do it.  The basic rules don’t change. Even when I ignore them they remain.

Save Me, Save the Cat!

I am taking the revolutionary step of planning the next draft of my manuscript.  I’m making a complete outline before I start the rewrite.  I’ve never done a long fiction outline before. I usually just wing it, with mixed results.  Most days it feels like I’m pulling the pieces of my outline out of parts of myself I’d rather not mention.  By the way, when I say ‘latest draft’ I mean I’ve decided the novel is a complete tear-down.  I’m starting over, essentially writing a sequel to the first one.  It’s a long story; email me for the link if you’d like to read about it.

The main problem with my first blind stabs at outlining seems to be that I suck at outlining.  So I went back to a classic screen writing manual to find a nice template.  Blake Snyder’s Save the Cat lists and thoroughly explains the “Fifteen Beats” that can be found in pretty much all successful Hollywood movies.  If you haven’t read it, you really should. Snyder wrote it in a bossy, don’t-argue-with-me style that makes it great fun. And it’s a nice starting point for a three act outline. His Beats occasionally require a bit of liberal interpretation to make them work in novel-ese, but they can be used as a basic road map for making any kind of three act story.

Find Snyder’s Fifteen Beats below, along with my brief interpretations of each of them. But don’t trust me.  Do your own translating.  The source is easy to find.  It’s Chapter Four of Save the Cat.

According to the late, great Blake Snyder, these Beats have to be followed precisely in this order to make a good three act movie.  I’m still not sure where I come down on that part of his theory.  Planning scares me.  But the Fifteen Beats intrigue me enough to want to see if I can use them to make a novel. 

The parenthetical numbers just after the title of each Beat are the pages in Snyder’s model screenplay where they must take place.  I left them in because he’s quite rigid in his views on proper screenplay page counts, part of his overall crotchetiness that gives the book a lot of its readability. Plus, the numbers give you an idea of Snyder’s ideas about the relative size of each Beat.

THE BLAKE SNYDER BEAT SHEET

PROJECT TITLE:

GENRE:

DATE:

1. Opening Image (1):  This corresponds to the hook in a novel.  It’s the thing that makes the reader turn past page one.  It should be jam-packed with thematic symbolism, but in a subtle way.
2. Theme Stated (5):  Snyder describes this one just fine for either genre. Within the first few pages “someone (usually not the main character) will pose a question or make a statement (usually to the main character) that is the theme of the [story].” (Snyder 73)
3. Set-Up (1-10):  Even if the exact placement and length of the Set-Up Beat gets adjusted, a story must very quickly establish the characters and setting, as well as the hero’s and the villain’s stakes.  This section wraps up with the hero starting to form his or her external goal in a concrete way.
4. Catalyst (12):  The event that changes everything and leads to the hero onto the path of his/her quest. The catalyst, or inciting event to fiction writers, starts the rest of the story into motion, even if the hero’s still not 100% committed to the cause. A lot of time this gets pushed up to the very first page for a novel.
5. Debate (12-25):  The hero must hesitate and wrestle with his/her choice (the one triggered by the catalyst).  He or she may even try to get out of doing what’s right, which is always more interesting than completely sticking with any life-changing decision that occurred in Beat Four.

I’m certain that Snyder would have a few choice words for the following statement: A lot of times these Beats can be rearranged or possibly omitted if you’re more experimental with structure. On the other hand, I think Snyder would approve of why I’m desecrating his words.  It’s because I want to write a book that I can sell for money. That means writing a story that scratches that primal three-act-itch we all seem to have.

I’m going to wrap up here at the end of act one.  Look for my translations of Beats Six through Fifteen in the next couple of days.

To Outline or Not

Austin-based novelist and educator Brian Yansky has a wonderful blog that I recently discovered.  His most recent post from June 4th grabbed me because he explores some of the downsides of working from a rigid outline.  Here’s the link:

http://brianyansky.blogspot.com/

You should read it for yourself, but I’ll tell you he seems to be in the non-outliner camp.  As am I; though, I must admit that I am currently struggling through an outline for the novel I’m working on.  I have begun to suspect that my manuscript’s problems may lie, at least in part, in the way that I created it.  I’m confident I’ll have more to say on this in later posts.  In the meantime, I want to put the question out there for discussion:

Are you an outliner or not?  Why or why not?  Post a comment here and let’s talk about it.

Want to be a good editor? Be a stupid reader.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve done all the things my fourth grade teacher told me not to do. I skim. I skip over boring parts. I speed up, rather than slow down, when I’m confused. And when I see a word I don’t understand, I most definitely don’t stop to look it up in the dictionary. In short, I’m a fourth-grade failure.

So how did I wind up here, editing novels and memoirs for a living? The truth is quite simple. Over the years, I’ve learned that my bad reading behaviors are actually some of the same attributes that make me a good editor.

Below are three rules of thumb for editing fiction—whether your own, or a friend’s. You might just be surprised.

1. Be impatient

If you read a manuscript too slowly, you can actually fool yourself into thinking it’s good. The real test is whether it will hold up in the face of a quick-read, which is how potential literary agents and editors (and their assistants and interns) will approach it, given the sheer volume of material they consider every day.

So when you read a manuscript for the first time, don’t stop to analyze every sentence. Don’t pause to parse each densely packed paragraph. Don’t pore over the imagery, waiting for hidden symbolism to manifest itself. Instead, read hungrily, like you’re devouring a slice of chocolate cake. The inedible pieces will quickly become apparent.

2. Be unforgiving

Inevitably, you will stumble upon something in the manuscript that doesn’t make sense. Let’s call this a “huh?” moment. In the face of a “huh?” moment, you might be tempted to re-read the confusing passage multiple times until you experience an “ah-ha!” moment. Once you have that “ah-ha!” moment, you might think, “OK, it makes sense after all. I was just being stupid.”

But, no! You weren’t. It was the manuscript that was confusing. And if you were confused, chances are someone else will be, too. In order to be a good editor, you must be unforgiving. You must not tolerate even a single ounce of confusion.

3. Be stupid

Authors are tricky people. I know because I am one. We sometimes try to sneak in clever metaphors, literary allusions, witty analogies, and other little nuggets that don’t quite fit with the story but are simply too brilliant not to use.

When you take off your writer’s hat and put on your editor’s hat, you can go ahead and forget about all that so-called brilliance. Instead, be as stupid as you can allow yourself to be. Do you still follow the metaphor? Still get the joke? Then it can stay.

Who Are We?

We are a team of authors, editors, and writing coaches based in Austin, Texas. With over thirty years of combined freelance experience, we formed Yellow Bird to pool our expertise and offer a range of professional editorial services for writers of fiction, nonfiction, and children’s books.

When you hire a Yellow Bird editor or writing coach, you get all the convenience, attention, and flexibility of working directly with a freelancer—plus peace of mind. All our editors and coaches are vetted professionals who will treat you and your work with the respect you deserve.

As published authors, industry professionals, and former employees at major publishing houses, we have our fingers on the pulse of today’s market and what sells. From memoirs to sci-fi novels, from picture books to biographies, we can help you polish your manuscript and guide you along the path to publication.

Perhaps most importantly, we are writers ourselves. We understand the nail-biting, hair-pulling frustration. We know what it’s like to face rejection and keep striving against the odds. We have felt first-hand the power of kind encouragement and unexpected praise. Books are big, messy, complicated creatures, and they require a lot of TLC. At the end of the day, we are more than editors. We are teachers, mentors, motivators, and lovers of words.