When life seems hard, the courageous do not lie down and accept defeat; instead, they are all the more determined to struggle for a better future. –  Queen Elizabeth II

I struggle with story structure, and therefore I am fascinated by it. Most writers rely on some form of the 3 (or 4 or 5) Act Structure or the Hero’s Journey to get their novel from point A to Z, but there are many other choices.

In Meander, Spiral, Explode: Design and Pattern in Narrative, Jane Allison examines a number of novels that take a different path, including stories that spiral, those that mimic the patterns of nature, and nonlinear stories. A popular story structure in Japanese literature, Kishōtenketsu features a third act surprise or twist, rather than a confrontation or traditional climax. The structure focuses less on conflict and achievement than journey and learning.

I like seeing how various structures work within successful stories. I occasionally have that a-ha! moment where my story problems resolve when I lay my plot over an alternative structure.

I also like studying story structure because I hate formula. When I hear the words “Save the Cat”, I know I can safely close the browser window or podcast. A trendy formula might work for some stories some of the time, but no single structure is a panacea for every writing ill. Plus, it’s boring. Plus, how can a writer ever improve their craft if they are stuck writing to percentages?

Every story has different needs, from structure to tone to language to voice. While stories need a sense of flow – because we need to pull our readers along with us – the idea that I have to write specific scenes and place them at dedicated spots in my story makes me a bit wiggy.

I recently stumbled across yet another approach to story structure. To introduce the concept, it might be helpful to touch on the Hero’s Journey.

The Hero’s Journey originated with Joseph Campbell’s assertion of the monomyth, which contained 17 points, including a few that focused on the intervention of the Gods and some Freudian slips. Christopher Vogler refined the list to the twelve steps below. In Anatomy of Story, John Truby suggests a 7-step process that can be expanded to incorporate a number of sub-steps, depending on the lengths and demands of your story. Truby’s approach is more oriented towards character than plot, but each of these approaches describe essentially the same story structure.

The Hero’s Journey

  • Ordinary World
  • Call to Adventure
  • Refusal of the Call
  • Meeting with the Mentor
  • Crossing the First Threshold
  • Tests, Allies, and Enemies
  • Approach to the Inmost Cave
  • The Ordeal
  • Reward
  • The Road Back
  • The Resurrection
  • Return with the Elixir

You can lay nearly any popular novel or film over this lattice work and see how it works. While popular – and especially helpful to a beginning writer working on structure – the Hero’s Journey doesn’t work for every story.

You might first notice that the journey is premised on the hero’s success. You could alter the journey to write a tragedy or relate the descent of a villain, but essentially, you’d be utilizing a distinct story structure that branches off the Hero’s Journey. The structure also assumes that a journey will be complicated by enemies and conflict. While some writers may have an expansive approach to conflict, most will interpret the Hero’s Journey as including violence or the threat of violence, or at minimum, metaphysical death.

In a recent article for Writer’s Digest, Stacey Simmons also suggests the Hero’s Journey is structured with a male protagonist in mind. Why is that? Can’t women be cast as heroes?

They can, but Simmons notes that the Hero’s Journey, as structured, doesn’t accommodate the reality of most women’s lives. When men answer the Call to Adventure, they don’t have to worry that their children will starve in their absence or that an adventurer’s reputation will render them unmarriageable. Women (historically, particularly in art) are given the choice between being Good (acceptable, supportive) and Bad (active, unacceptable). A woman with agency is often portrayed as “bad” – an outsider or outcast – even when her only transgression is wanting what society believes she shouldn’t have.

“No one asks Clark Kent if he thinks his job as a journalist at The Daily Planet is going to interfere with his desire to have a family,” Simmons writes. “Frodo isn’t concerned that Samwise is secretly hoping to score a sexual favor on the road to Mordor. Atticus Finch doesn’t hear that he should smile more so that the jury doesn’t think he’s a bitch.”

And yet, despite historically limited options, women do have adventures, even in myth and pre-modern writing. During her research, Simmons discovered a parallel but distinct story journey, that she calls the Queen’s Path.

“The Queen’s Path is marked by a woman finding herself in the Divide [the choice between being “good” or “bad”] and then having to navigate through the perils of being a woman until she arrives at the experience of reclaiming her embodiment,” Simmons explains. “From this place, she can claim full ownership of herself and achieve sovereignty. Where freedom is something granted by someone else, (a government, or a spouse), sovereignty is the full knowledge that you own yourself—body, mind, and soul.”

Simmons sets out the structure this way:

The Queen’s Path

  • Once Upon a Time—The woman arrives in the world and is invited to the Path.
  • Cursed & Marked—She receives a curse, and a mark of that curse.
  • Blind—She can’t see what’s coming, even when it’s obvious.
  • Cleaved—She is separated from herself, and finds herself on one of two tracks: destined to marry or isolated and powerful.
  • Mirror—She faces the part of herself she has been divided from, either in herself or symbolically in someone else.
  • Commit—The woman commits to her role, trying to fit the expectations of everyone around her.
  • The Hunt—She is chased, sometimes towards marriage or sex. Sometimes she is hunting for something. This keeps her in a state of stress.
  • Abjection—She denies the parts of herself that can make her a full human being. In a Happily Ever After tale, the story ends here.
  • Choice—The woman confronts the danger of Abjection. She must choose to embrace her lost self.
  • Embodiment—She realizes that her power and identity are BECAUSE she is a woman. She finds power within.
  • Claim the Territory—The woman stakes a claim on those things that are uniquely hers—her abilities, land, powers, and values.
  • Gather the Tribe—She gathers like-minded women (and men) around her. She realizes that her world is made up of people she loves, and who love her.
  • Crowned—She takes the crown, the throne, or other symbol of her sovereignty. She owns herself.

I love this concept. Again, this structure is not relevant to every story, but it provides an interesting contrast to the Hero’s Journey and another way to view goals, conflict, and achievement. Notably, the path is more internalized and focused on self-actualization, even if the story itself contains significant external conflict and tangible goals. While the Queen’s triumph may benefit others, her true success is claiming her true self.

 

Who am I?