Writers: Act 1, Decoded
These pieces on the elements of storytelling are not meant to be a ‘system’ or ‘technique’ for writing, but an explanation of story ‘parts’, the ‘what’ and ‘why’ of them, and how they relate to one another. If you understand their necessity and purpose, you can then adapt them to suit your tale rather than the other way around.
Ever found yourself twenty minutes into a movie or fifty pages into a book thinking, ‘I’m lost?
Me too.
So, the protagonist is off on his journey, facing obstacles and failing, only to regroup and try again, but there’s something missing — you don’t get ‘why.’ If you’re watching on television, you might rewind and replay for clarity, but in a theatre, you’re more likely to believe your confusion is of your own making. And then, of course, are you willing to lose face and ask whoever you’re with to explain?
Regardless, your confusion disconnects you from the story, inevitably reducing your enjoyment, and, worse, re-acquiring your ‘suspension of disbelief’ is akin to boarding a moving train.
It’s not you (or me). The writer failed to reveal enough information in the opening act in their haste to get to the chase of Act 2 and their brilliant climax in Act 3.
Act 1 is the neglected child of storytelling.
The first act is often overlooked or perceived as something to be rushed through to get to the meat of the tale. It seems quite passive, boring even, that place the protagonist is escaping — it must be, right, if they’re searching for something different?
Wrong. Act 1 is your story’s foundation, and everyone knows how vital a solid foundation is to build upon.
Nor does your opening act need to be static and bland. Think of it as the coiled potential in your stance before you dive into a pool and the release of that energy into your launch. There’s power there.
Nothing passive or boring in that, right? Good. Now we’re on the same page.
So, then, where to start? What should Act 1 reveal?
> Where is a great place to start? Are we Earthbound or in another galaxy? Are there any twists in terms of how the world works?
> When must immediately follow. Is it past, present, or future?
Set the rules — and keep them in mind henceforth.
> Genre comes next. Reveal whether your story will be funny, scary, thrilling, romantic, or some of this and some of that. Be careful if you choose to blend genres. You should have a primary genre and a secondary, but the primary must always infuse the secondary. ‘Sean of the Dead is not a funny horror movie, it’s a scary comedy — there’s a difference.
> Your Protagonist is more than just a name and occupation. ‘Who’ is he — we should know enough about him by the end of the act that we won’t be surprised later. So many stories fail here — if he is a pacifist in Act 1, he will — not — make that Hail Mary shot in Act 3 that cuts the shipping strap for the oil drums behind the antagonist. Think it through. And since you’ve already choreographed the climax, it’s not that difficult to plan — even a Boy Scout Marksmanship Certificate sticking out of a box — but give your audience some clue or risk their wrath (with their wallets)
> Setting is different from ‘Where’ above. By setting, I mean the specific location you use to show your hero in a way that is relevant to his nature and his need.
> Your antagonist, or bad guy, must show up here, too, in a way that shows just how badass he is. If you can devise a way to put him together with your hero and foreshadow their conflict, all the better.
> Hero Helpers should show up in Act 1, especially the key ones. These are the characters who the hero needs to help him succeed. Introduce these characters where they make the most sense, anywhere in Act 1.
Still here? Excellent. Now to show you by example.
As I wrote earlier, ‘The Curse of Barton Hall’ is a horror story — kind of. I can’t quite decide, so feel free to have your say. It is my twist on a haunted house story, my theme is ‘connection’ and my lead roles reflect my theme. For reference, that information is in a 3-piece series titled ‘Story: the Lego Way’ (lousy title, but at the time I was a newb, here).
Note: If your story needs a flashback or historical reference, try and open with it, particularly if it has tension — and it should. If it reveals too much, then pick the best part of the flashback (particularly if it makes the audience go, ‘wtf’?) and then insert the rest in longer and longer bits, not necessarily in the right order.
Act 1 of Barton Hall has five scenes, the fifth containing the Inciting Incident.
SCENE 1: BARTON HALL, MORNING.
Twenty years before our tale. A father and son break into the mansion armed with crowbars and high-power flashlights. The young teen, Bruce Tipping, has heard the stories about this place, but his father calls him a sissy, then we see Bruce has a limp when he follows dad into the three-storey foyer. The older Tipping decides he would keep his treasure close at hand away from prying eyes, which means it is most likely in a part of the mansion out-of-bounds to guests, in the private quarters.
Dad nearly races up the stairway, awash in adrenaline, but Bruce’s disability forces him to climb more slowly, his fear growing with each step he falls behind. And the portraits lining the wall are staring at him. His father shouts from the third foor landing and Bruce picks up his pace. A few steps below the landing he last saw his father on, there is a scream — Bruce is too late. His father lies dead in the hallway and the teen can only run.
In this three-minute sequence the where is established, the time period and the horror tone made clear. It also suggests that the rumours of a haunting might be true.
SCENE 2: RESIDENTIAL STREET, EVENING.
Our protagonist, Alex, 21 or so, is cold and his tattered denim jacket no protection against a frigid wind, but his steps are spry as he jogs up a few cement stairs. He double-checks the house number, straightens his shoulders and rings the doorbell. He blows hot breath on his fingers as he waits. Light spills out as the inner door opens but there is hesitation, as if whoever answered does not trust the young man disturbing supper. Alex pulls something from a pocket, a paper, maybe, and holds it up to be seen. The outer door opens; perhaps too much, because it retracts somewhat, as if the unseen person didn’t realize just how cold it is. Despite this, there is no invitation to enter and get warm. Instead, a woman’s arm reaches and grips the object. She raises it near her face for a moment, glances at Alex and must fight her motherly impulse for empathy. Fear obviously wins, because she thrusts the page at him and the outer door makes a solid, non-negotiable ‘click.’ Alex slowly descends to the street and cinches his jacket tight.” **
This short scene from a distance reveals quite a bit about our protagonist, but leaves you with questions, drawing you in. He is obviously searching for something and we want to know what. The late afternoon time reflects our hero’s dogged determination to find some form of family to connect with — that every moment of daylight is precious. He is inadequately dressed, too, a nod to the fact that he should have started South before this. So something important, something to do with the page he showed the housewife is keeping him here. And though we might not see him quite as derelict as the housewife feared, nevertheless our radar’s now up and we’re looking for other clues — tattered jacket, worn sneakers, maybe no socks. He’s poor, but he doesn’t look shifty or wary.
Crucially, though, we get a glimpse that he’s searching for something, his goal, and we see he needs something, we’re just not sure what, yet.
** A note on crafting scenes; we’ll come back to this, but I thought it worth mentioning here just for example. If a scene opens on a high note, up, so to speak, try and close it with a low. Keeping this in the back of your mind often guides how a scene could work best.
Here, Alex jogs up the steps, because there is potential for an answer. There isn’t so he climbs down slowly. Up and down.
SCENE 3: TIPPING CONSTRUCTION OFFICE TRAILER, NIGHT.
Our antagonist, Lee, Foreman at Tipping Construction, has his feet up on the bosses’ desk. He laughs at the mocking limp performed by Doug, a Tipping employee, and unevenly splits the heel of a decent whiskey into two glasses. We see an older, chubbier yet smiling Bruce Tipping appear in the office doorway holding a cardboard tube, but Lee and Doug haven’t yet. The smile vanishes. Lee holds his glass against Doug’s. ‘Drink up, cuz this is probably the only severence pay you’re gonna see.’ Doug sees Bruce and the tube. ‘Maybe, maybe not,’ he says. ‘Is that my whiskey?’ demands Bruce. ‘You get them?’ replies Lee. ‘Is that my whiskey?’ Bruce repeats, louder. Lee waves the empty bottle. ‘Was your whiskey. Got anymore?” He drops his feet to the floor and leans forward, hand out. ‘Is that them?’ Buce realizes he’s not going to win this, so he slumps a little and hands over the tube. He moves around the desk as Lee spreads out some blueprints, but Doug is quicker and Bruce finds himself looking at his blueprints upside down.
We meet our antagonist. How badass are you when even your boss is scared of you? In this brief scene, Lee has shown himself to be disrespectful of his employer’s office, he has stolen whiskey but thinks nothing of it and overides Bruce’s anger. Against this, Alex stands no chance, right? Right? Bruce enters his office smiling, but it doesn’t last. Up and down.
SCENE 4: SHELTER DINING ROOM, NIGHT.
Alex enters an almost empty hall — he’s late, but at least there’s no line. There’s not much left to choose from, but he selects his choices with quick and agile motions that are essential to a homeless youth. He reaches the end to find the drink bin holding only ice. He thrusts his hand into the ice and runs it across the bottom. There. He pulls out a bottle of orange juice.
As Alex walks from the food line, we see three men at one of the tables. Two of the men, Jimmy and Smitty, both around 40 and former cell mates, sit so close that they often touch with arm or shoulder. Jimmy talks to the younger man, Steve, 20s, seated across from him. Smitty watches Alex, a lascivious smirk on his face and a darker lust in his eyes. Neither Jimmy or Steve notice as Smitty rises and walks over to where Alex sits alone.
Alex holds an old, black and white photo in a zip-lock baggie in his left hand while he eats. He looks up when a voice growls, ‘thanks,’ and Smitty snatches the juice bottle and turns away. Alex does nothing.
Smitty opens the bottle as he returns to his seat, earning a glance from Steve, who extends his gaze over his shoulder and sees Alex. He stands and in the same motion wraps his hand over Smitty’s, keeping the bottle inches from Smitty’s already open mouth. With his left hand, Steve slides the bottle out of the older man’s grip. ‘Hey,’ says Smitty and tries to grab it back, but Steve swats his arm away so hard that Smitty hits Jimmy. ‘Last warning, asshole,’ Steve says to Smitty. ‘You fuck with Alex, you fuck with me.’
‘This is yours, I think,’ Steve says as he replaces the bottle on Alex’s tray and sits down. Alex puts the photo down because he needs to cut his next bite.‘I’m surprised you haven’t left yet, with this weather,’ Steve says. Alex mumbles something around a mouthful of food. ‘What?’ asks Steve. Alex swallows and tries again. ‘I can’t.’ Steve laughs at this. ‘You’re wearing everything you own and you’re homeless. What’s keeping you, this?’ He picks up the photo. Alex freezes a moment, as if deciding whether to permit it. ‘Who is this?’ After a moment, Alex almost whispers, ‘My mother.’
‘Where is she, Alex? Is she here? Is that why you haven’t left yet?’ ‘Alex meets Steve’s gaze. ‘She’s dead.’
‘Then what are you looking for?’ Again, a hesitation before Alex pulls out a torn sheet of copier paper from a pocket that he scavenged earlier. One side has a partial spreadsheet. On the other, Alex has made a list of names. Some are crossed off, but all share a common feature — every last name is Croft.
Alex crosses off the name matching the house address we saw earlier. One less chance for success.
Steve tries to raise the mood by sharing news of the decent cash-paying, week-long salvage job. Alex could make enough to buy some better clothes or travel south with less stress. Alex indicates the remaining names on the list and insists he has to finish before he leaves. ‘Why?’ asks Steve. ‘Because I do,’ answers Alex.
Here we have firmly established Setting — Alex’s physical and emotional isolation. And we know a lot about Alex and his current situation. An orphan and homeless, searching for family. He has been offered a journey and refused it. Ironically, the salvage job seems like a false start, as it has nothing to do with his search for family, even though it does. We get a glimpse at his need but indirectly — he’s looking for family but needs a human connection, because his flaw, his inability to stand up for himself, indicates how close he is to giving up.
SCENE 5: SHELTER ENTRANCE, EXTERIOR, MORNING.
The door opens and out steps Alex, fitting a mismatched pair of gloves. He is prepared for the day. He has scrounged a better jacket, which he wears over his old one. There is purpose and hope and determination on his face as he looks up, but these vanish. It has snowed. This is the Inciting Incident. Not what you expected, maybe, but it serves its purpose — it forces Alex to accept the job and join the salvage team because it is the only way that will enable him to go South.
Steve exits moments later, claps Alex on the shoulder. ‘Last chance, man.’ Alex follows him to meet Bruce, standing near the driver’s open door of a passenger van. He is introduced. Bruce asks if he has salvage experience. ‘Tons,’ Alex says, and it’s not entirely a lie. Lee, in the front passenger seat, listens to Doug, who can barely hide his excitement. ‘Ain’t never been on a treasure hunt.’ Lee bolts upright, looking around. Alex hears and meets Lee’s gaze — foreshadowing their future conflict. ‘The fuck you lookin’ at, boy? Get in the fuckin’ van.’ With Lee’s question, we have the challenge. With his command, Lee establishes dominance.
WAIT! they hollered. What about the Hero’s Helpers? Well, there’s Louise, who has most of an architectural degree, and Steve, Jimmy and Smitty. And Walt, catching 50, never without food in his always grubby hands, which is inconvenient when Doug tells him to climb into the back row. We know Steve has Alex’s back, we are sure Jimmy and Smitty don’t, we doubt Walt could reach his own back, so Louise has to be a helper, right? We’ll see.
The Inciting Incident doesn’t have to be spectacular — that’s not the point of it. It must be something that forces the hero to face his or her journey. And please, don’t think you couldn’t do this. Don’t forget, this script already exists, so in a way I’m cheating just to show how this stuff is entangled but logical. And the ‘treasure hunt’ bit? I just thought of that, so now I can rework the story and improve it. Alex pursuing clues for a treasure improves everything — you’ll see.
Where
When
Story Tone (genre)
Setting
Meet Hero
Identify Goal & Need
Meet Antagonist
Journey Offer
Hero’s Helpers
Hero’s Refusal
Inciting Incident
And that, boys and girls, is how you rock Act 1 in 15 pages.
I’m sure I left this or that out or didn’t explain something adequately. There might even be continuity errors. If you find something wrong or need a better explanation, just comment and we’ll improve this for others.
