Appendix B: Glossary
Sympathetic character A character-driven story, by definition, is telling one person’s story. Thus, when analyzing (or creating) a story, the first question to ask is: “Whose story are we telling?” To answer that question, another question must be asked: “Who is the sympathetic character?” Character sympathy is the mechanism that invites the viewer to form an intimate attachment to a main character. This is done by introducing the character at a power disadvantage. They are shown being unjustly persecuted, abandoned, betrayed, humiliated or somehow disempowered. Because human nature is such that we can’t help being drawn to an underdog and wanting them to succeed, the sympathy-creating moment helps the viewer get on board with the main character and root for them through all their tests and trials. For a video illustrating sympathetic character, go here: http://www.screentakes.com/sympathetic-doesnt-mean-likable/
Return to pageExposition A way of using dialogue to provide the viewer with necessary background information, ideally without the viewer being aware they are being informed. Dialogue in which it is obvious that the character is speaking for the viewer’s benefit rather than for the benefit of the other character in the scene is called “bad exposition.” The classic method for sneaking background exposition out without the viewer being aware they are being informed is through an argument: “Where were you?! You were supposed to meet me at 6:00!” “I’m sorry! I couldn’t get away from work!” “I can’t believe you’re still giving in to that jerk after he screwed you out of your comp time. When are you going to stand up to him?!” “When I hit the lottery and can afford to lose my job.” We learn something about Character B’s situation at work through Character A’s frustration at being stood up once again.
Return to pageCause and effect Dramatic stories are driven forward through the energy created by relationships between scenes, aka cause and effect. The events of scene 1 (cause) naturally lead to the events of scene 2 (effect). Then those same events of scene 2 become a cause that leads to the events of scene 3, and so on. While it is not always necessary for the scene of effect to immediately follow the causative scene, it is important to remember that in order for a cause and effect relationship to be apparent, and thus have its driving force, the scenes do need to be in some proximity to each other. If scene 2 follows at too great a distance from scene 1, the cause and effect impact will be lost.
Return to pageParallel action Cutting back and forth between two scenes that are going on simultaneously is an effective way to create tension in the buildup of a sequence, or simply create contrast between characters and situations. Here’s an example of parallel action: A couple of amateur thieves stealthily approach a house. Cut to the family having a lively dinner at a restaurant. The thieves manage to jimmy open a window and get inside. The father pays the bill and the kids noisily pile into the car. The thieves tiptoe through the living room to the den. The family drives through a suburban neighborhood. Just as the family pulls into the driveway, the thieves open a cupboard and find their treasure. They grab the popcorn maker and charge out the back door as the front door opens and the family spills into the house. That’s parallel action.
Return to pagePlant and payoff The “plant” is a prop or piece of information established early in the story that will come back later to play a significant role. The “payoff” is that moment when the plant has its impact. A typical example of plant and payoff is if a gun is going to be used by a character later in a story, it is planted earlier to establish it as being in that character’s possession.
Return to pageFirst act In the first quarter of the film, about 20 to 30 minutes for a feature, there are a few basic tasks that need to be accomplished to bring the viewer into the story and get them oriented – main characters are introduced, some background information is provided, the tone and style of the film are established and then the plot is set in motion. There are two key structural points to the first act – the point of attack and the end of the first act.
Return to pageSetup First, the viewer needs to get a sense of what “normal” is for the main character. This is done in the sequence of opening scenes taking up the first half of the first act before the point of attack comes in and throws everything out of balance.
Return to pagePoint of attack In plot terms, the point of attack (also commonly called the inciting incident, catalyst or hook) is the event that begins the actual story we have been brought in to see, usually an external event in the main character's life that throws his or her world out of balance. But the function of the point of attack in a character transformation story is to confront the main character with a serious challenge to his or her bedrock assumptions about life.
We all operate under certain assumptions. The sun will rise in the morning; your partner will be there when you wake up. But, once in awhile, our assumptions are challenged. For example, let’s say you live under the assumption that if you do good work, you won’t lose your job.

You now have a new set of assumptions: No matter how good you are, you can lose your job at any time, but you will survive and, possibly, be better off for it.
This example is a generic story. It could happen to anyone. In an individual character’s story of internal transformation, the point of attack presents a specific challenge that will impact that character in a very individual way.
Return to pageSubtext In an emotionally charged situation, a well crafted line of dialogue will not directly speak the intended meaning. What the character really wants to say will be implied or unspoken. The meaning that lurks under the surface of what is actually said is called the subtext.
Return to pageEnd of the first act I am continually surprised, with each new film I analyze, at the consistency with which the first act comes to a close. As I search for an event around 25 to 30 minutes into the film that launches the second act, suddenly, there it is again: A decision on the part of the main character. I won’t say always, but often, most often, very, very often, in fact, almost all the time, I will find a moment where the main character either makes a decision or chooses a course of action that is in response to the unbalancing events of the point of attack and launches the narrative drive of the second act.
Return to pageSecond act In the middle portion of the film, about half its total length, the main character grapples with the problem and endeavors to overcome it while confronting setbacks, reversals, complications, obstacles and ticking clocks presented through parallel action, cause and effect, plant and payoff and every other dramatic device available to increase tension, raise stakes and push the story forward.
Return to pageMidpoint In my view, the midpoint – a scene or event about halfway through that prompts a significant change in direction – is one of the most interesting structural markers and, potentially, the most helpful. When you chart out the basic components of story structure on a timeline, you see a cluster of activity at the beginning that is designed to get us invested in the characters, get oriented to what’s going on and understand what’s at stake.

Then at the end, there is another bunch of activity designed to resolve the story, provide a sense that something has happened and give an idea of where the characters will go from here.

Then there’s that loooooonnnnnggggg stretch in the middle when you’re pretty much on your own.

To be sure, there is much opportunity for creativity in the second act, but the challenge is in how to organize it. This is the source of that oft-heard lament among screenwriters, “My second act is killing me!” Well, the good news is that screenwriters can gain the help of a very useful guidepost if they develop an understanding of how the Midpoint functions.

The standard, plot-based view of the Midpoint is that it is the first culmination of the second act, where there is an initial attempt to solve the problem that either partially succeeds or fails. This is highly effective for the action-driven story. But a character story needs to go a little deeper. So what you will typically find in a character-centered midpoint is a nearly cataclysmic external event that causes an internal shift in the main character and differentiates the narrative drive of the first half of the second act from the second half. It is important to note that this is not the moment that makes the character’s ultimate transformation inevitable. Rather, it is the moment that makes that transformation possible.
Return to pageEnd of the second act/climax In a plot-based structure, the end of the second act is the point when external events, such as a point of no return or a confrontation with the darkest hour, have pushed the main character far afield from their normal world and things become just about as bad as they can be. Then, at the climax, things get worse, stretching the tension to the highest possible intensity before the big release that provides a resolution.

But in a character-based story, a release of tension is not the only thing we’re going for. We’re also working toward an internal transformation. Thus, in character structure, the difference between these two points is that at the end of the second act, the main character, with his or her back up against a wall, makes a statement of transformation. Then at the climax that statement is put to a test.
A quick example to illustrate: Let’s say you have a friend with an irritating habit of making big promises and then not coming through.

So, while life circumstances, such as the possibility of losing a friend, might motivate a person to declare an intention to change, the transformation is not complete until that statement has been tested. And a viewer watching a film, on some deep level, knows this.
They may not be able to articulate what was missing in the film, since it is an unconscious knowledge, but at the water cooler at work the next day, they will give the film a thumbs-down. And you don’t want that.
Conveniently, these “statement” and “test” character functions fit nicely with the plot functions. In order to motivate the statement “I’ve changed!” at the end of the second act, things, indeed, have to be about as bad as they can be. Then, for the climax to present an effective test, things will surely have become worse.
Return to pageResolution In the final scene or scenes, we are given a sense of how the main character's life has been changed and where he or she will go from here.
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