Structuring Character Change
‘What exactly does she believe she should be doing in this sequence?’
‘What emotional response to the problem is she processing right now?’
I’m currently drafting the second act of a new screenplay with my co-writer and these are the questions we check in with at the start of each writing session. The story shape has been carefully planned. We know all our turning points and the rough plot that will carry us through each sequence. We know the distance our character has to travel from where she starts out to where we’ll leave her at fade out. We know what deeply entrenched false belief she will have to surrender and we’ve defined the progressive key story beats and shifting relationships that will force her to do so.
As we bring those sketched out scenes to life we’re in the most joyous part of the writing process: discovering new layers to the characters’ interwoven lives; trying out smarter, fresher plot ideas; finding everyone’s voice.
The framework we have in place gives us freedom to explore. Nothing is necessarily sacred. Apart from this:
Knowing exactly where our protagonist is on her transformation journey and testing every story choice against it.
I’ve learnt the hard way. Previous projects have stalled because the change my character needed to go through was simply too obvious from the start and I failed to convincingly plot why it took so long for them to reach that understanding. Other stories have stumbled because the shift I wanted to chart was too subtle and nuanced with only enough change of heart for a meaty conversation not a ninety-minute cinematic story. Mostly, I’ve wanted to champion my central character and baulked at making them start out wrong in their approach to the central conflict. Or I’ve messed up the arc by needing the protagonist to handle a subplot with wisdom they haven’t yet gained in the core storyline.
But, after spending multiple drafts untangling undisciplined character arcs and battling with knotty subplots that refused to keep in step with the main drama, I finally succumbed and set myself the task of figuring out exactly what the character believes about themselves and believes they need to do in each distinct sequence of the script.
The 8-Sequence Approach To Character Change
I now work with the 8-sequence structure for a feature screenplay. I cannot overstate how much it’s transformed both my own writing and my work as a script developer. I promise you - learning to organise both your story plot and your character’s arc into distinct sequences is going to save you so much time and so much brain ache.
In addition to my own character-arc failings, one very common problem in many scripts I read is that characters are continually circling the same arguments and not really shifting their position until the end of the film. For most of the story the characters are acting in a state of constant tension between the way they have always messed up and the way they are trying to do better; but it’s the same emotional conflict on repeat without any movement until the third act. A stubborn stalemate until an 11th hour surrender.
Breaking down a character’s transformation into incremental steps allows each sequence to have its own distinct emotional landscape, delivering newly understood truths, fresh perspectives, slow awakenings and shifting relationship dynamics to navigate. Adding up to a surprising and satisfying journey.
This is my personal break down of the function of each of the 8 sequences in a feature screenplay.
Sequence 1: Fade in to Inciting Incident / First half of Act 1
The character pursues what matters to them in their immediate future, revealing what they want and why. Their want is based on a flawed belief which nonetheless presents as convincing enough for an audience to buy into for now.
Sequence 2: Inciting Incident to Posing The Dramatic Question
The character forms a plan in response to the disruption. Remaining true to what they want and what matters to them.
Sequence 3: First half of Act 2a
The character pursues the plan and encounters the first curveball. It’s going to be harder than they thought and they double-down defensively on their false belief.
Sequence 4: Lead-up to the Mid-Point
The character rises to the difficulty of their task and receives the first real blow to what they believe about themselves. A glimpse of a different truth that they can’t ignore. (Often an ‘Am I being the dick here?’ moment)
Sequence 5: First half of Act 2b
The shift in power at the midpoint forces the character to make a superficial attempt to change. They DO things differently, whilst still clinging on to their flawed belief. The flawed belief now causes real problems that can’t be ignored.
Sequence 6: The build up to the crisis
The character is confronted with undeniable truths and loses everything that they think matters most to them.
Sequence 7: From the crisis to the final test
The character processes the surrender of their false beliefs, and forms a new plan.
Sequence 8: The final test to the end
The character confirms new truths about themselves as they tackle the problem in the way they now understand they need to. What really matters most to them is restored (though it’s not necessarily an improvement!).
It might sound formulaic (and if structure like this scares you, book a consultation and we’ll work it through together) but what really surprises me every time I apply this approach to a story, is how much it opens up the emotional range that can be explored. Each aspect of the character’s emotional conflict gets its own dedicated 12 pages of attention during which it determines the character’s choices and colours their mood. But when that emotional beat is spent we properly move on.
Which means rather than lugging the same bags stuffed with a tangled mess of emotions through each and every story event, there is space in the story design to really dig deeper on the less obvious layers, secret fears and hidden truths. And that becomes a journey worth going on.
(And here’s George Clooney as Ryan Bingham embarking on one of my favourite character journeys in Up In The Air)
