Last week, I shared the analogy of your story being like a canoe ride down a river. In the opening of your story, your character is paddling down a river they’ve traveled for a long time. This is their normal world. Out of the blue, they’re surprised by a waterfall (the inciting incident) and down they go. They’re thrown out of the canoe, and the canoe breaks. While they’re still dealing with this, the river divides into multiple routes and they have to make a choice, which represents the entering of act two.

The first part of act two is your character trying to get his or herself back into the canoe. They’re still reacting to what happened at the waterfall. But the midpoint–today’s topic–is what provides them with the opportunity (or motivation) to finally get in the boat and start steering.

(A note for new novel writers: If you haven’t written many novels, you may have no idea if this scene you’re writing is falling at the 50% mark or the 30% mark or the 75% mark of your manuscript. That’s okay. For now, just write. We’ll worry about placement later!)

I didn’t learn about the benefits of creating a big middle scene for novels until after I was published, so this isn’t one of those story elements that I’ll claim, “all published books have this,” or, “you must learn how to do this before your book will be any good.”

Even if this idea is new to you, I bet you’ve subconsciously picked up on big middle scenes. You’ll notice that most books and movies you love have a scene right in the middle that feels bigger or heavier than the other scenes around it. It’s a highest high or lowest low for the main character. Let’s look at a few examples of midpoints from popular books and movies:

• The Hunger Games novel: Katniss forms her alliance with Rue.
• Twilight novel: Bella sees Edward in the sunlight for the first time.
• Pride and Prejudice: Lizzy rejects Mr. Darcy’s proposal.
• Tangled: Rapunzel and Flynn find themselves trapped and about to drown in the cave.
• Frozen: Anna arrives as Elsa’s ice castle and sees what her sister is truly capable of.

Now that I’m aware of big midpoint scenes, it’s interesting to me how often I create one instinctively when I’m writing. That happened with The Lost Girl of Astor Street, where I have Piper discovering something critical about her missing friend right in the middle. I didn’t work hard for that perfect 50% placement. It just happened. You might also find yourself creating critical midpoint scenes instinctively thanks to your years of absorbing stories.

Other times, I’m purposeful when structuring my midpoint scene. When I wrote Within These Lines, I knew I wanted Evalina to visit Taichi in Manzanar, and I decided early on that this would be my midpoint because it satisfies so many of the elements of a strong middle scene. Let’s talk about what those are.

(Last time I looked, the ebook for The Lost Girl of Astor Street and Within These Lines were both $1.99. Not sure how long that’ll go on so double-check before you click “buy.”)

Characteristics of Strong Story Midpoints

Whatever happens EXTERNALLY must be challenging enough to cause change INTERNALLY (and vice versa)

As I covered in my post last week, during Act II Part A, your character is still reacting to what happened to them in the inciting incident. They’re active, but they’re still focused on getting back in that troublesome canoe, not necessarily where this river is heading.

Whatever you choose for your midpoint, the external action needs to be strong enough to break your character out of their reactionary state and cause them to proactively work for change.

For Within These Lines, Evalina visiting Taichi at Manzanar worked well for my midpoint because when they were communicating via letters, they could both ignore important realities. But once they saw each other face-to-face, that became impossible. This causes them both to stop merely reacting to the evacuation of Japanese Americans (the inciting incident) and start pushing back.

The external conflict should create a “look in the mirror” moment

This concept comes from James Scott Bell’s brilliant and affordable Write Your Novel From The Middle. Here’s how Bell puts it:

At this point in the story, the character looks at himself. He takes stock of where he is in the conflict and—depending on the type of story—has either of two basic thoughts. In a character-driven story, he looks at himself and wonders what kind of person he is. What is he becoming? … What will he have to do to overcome his inner challenges? … The second type of look is more for plot-driven fiction. It’s where the character looks at himself and considers the odds against him. At this point the forces seem so vast that there is virtually no way to go on and not face certain death.

The book is full of great insights like that and is a really worthwhile read.

What happens in the external action of the middle scene should cause your main character to see himself in a different light. This discovery is critical to the action moving forward.

Your Main Character Must Re-calibrate

Staying with our river analogy, depending on the type of story you’re telling, the midpoint should feel like some white water rapids, with a whirlpool in the middle, and a few more rapids before they’re spit out on the other side. They’ve had a lot thrown at them, they’re really not sure how the boat fared through that section of the river, and their sense of direction might even be a bit off after that whirlpool.

Whatever just happened, your main character can’t un-see that. He can’t un-hear those words, can’t un-feel those feelings, can’t un-speak what was said.

After this scene, he has no choice but to bravely push forward because there’s no un-doing what just happened. Instead, the character must shed something—a belief, a love, a person, a security blanket—and grasp hold of something truer, scarier, or stronger. He must re-calibrate. This new thing he has discovered will fuel him through the next leg of his journey.

The Various Story Threads Must Weave Together Through The Midpoint

Most modern stories have a main plot, possibly a subplot or two, and then a handful of story threads.

The definition of a subplot varies depending on the teacher, but I think of subplots as mini-plots that have their own turning points/whiff of death/climactic moment.

And then story threads are things like the main character’s relationship with his best friend, the hobby he’s improving, the university he’s trying to get into, etc. While good story threads serve the main plot, they often don’t connect with each other until later in the novel.

But a strong midpoint should pull in a variety of your story threads. Maybe not all of them, but many. 

Going back to The Lost Girl of Astor Street as an example, in the midpoint when Piper makes her discovery about Lydia (which is the main story goal), other threads that work their way into this scene are:

• The romantic thread with Mariano
• Her evolving friendship with Walter
• Piper’s decaying relationship with her brother and father

All of these story threads are moved forward by what happens in the middle scene.

Try picking a few of your favorite books off your shelf, turn to the middle, and see what’s happening. Even if it isn’t exactly at the 50% mark, can you identify a big midpoint scene? What can you learn from it?

Do you have a big middle scene in your novel?