“The enemy of art is the absence of limitations.” ‒ Orson Welles (pictured above)
It’s a fascinating artistic paradox. Total freedom inhibits creativity, whereas strategic limits generate creativity.
Strategic limits? you ask.
Let me give you an example of the concept. If I say to you, “Write five pages about anything you want” you might tense up, floundering in that sea of vagueness, thinking: Where the heck do I begin?
But if I say, “Write about one thing that made you belly-laugh as a child, one friend you envied as a teenager, and one time you saw your father cry,” I guarantee those specifics would strike sparks in your mind and you would charge into writing.
Imposed limits force creative ideas from the writer the way champagne is freed from its bottle.
Three-Act Structure
Three-act structure epitomizes the freeing power of strategic limits.
From the beginning of human society, stories have been told in three parts: an inciting incident, complications, and climax. In our time, thanks to centuries of theater and, more recently, film, this has become known as three-act structure.
I believe that three-act structure is how our brains understand story: beginning, middle, end. And I believe that story is how we understand life: we comprehend each event we experience as having a beginning, a middle, and an end.
This goes very deep. Many experiences we value most, or consider the most profound, occur in three acts.
- People meet, fall in love, marry.
- Enemies confront each other, fight, then win or lose.
- A journey is three acts: you set out, you travel, you arrive.
- A meal is three acts: appetizer, main course, dessert.
- Lovemaking? Foreplay, intercourse, climax.
- The scientific method has three acts: hypothesis, experiment, proof.
- We measure time in three stages: past, present, future.
- And we measure our very time on earth in three acts: birth, life, death.
Three is a magical number that occurs over and over in myths and fairy tales, and it carries magic because sensing three parts to every experience is how we understand our lives: beginning, middle, end.
So in story, which is a metaphor for life, three-act structure is fundamental. Inciting incident. Complications. Climax. The wise writer will apply this potent principle to shape and focus their story.
You’ll find a detailed examination of 3-act structure, and of every essential aspect of writing a successful novel, in my book Page-Turner: Your Path to Writing a Novel that Publishers Want and Readers Buy.
Happy writing!
All my best,
Barbara Kyle
Hi Barbara,
I enjoyed your blog post and I agree that the three-act structure makes sense. In fact, I love a well-structured story. But I’d be curious to know how you’d define the three act structure in Citizen Kane since your blog features the marvelous Orson Welles. And I’d also be curious to know how you feel the Newsreel fits into the three-act structure.
For me, I think it depends partly on deciding what the actual story is about. If the story is about Kane’s search for love then I could see breaking down the various scenes to fit that theme even though the story is told out of sequence. We have the loss of love in Act One – the search for love in Act Two – and the final Act – Kane dies alone with all those who loved him far away. Essentially a tragedy.
James
James, thanks for your comments about Citizen Kane. Your breakdown of that script’s 3-act structure regarding Kane’s “search for love” is most perceptive and, I’d say, accurate. Yet I’ve often wondered why Welles titled the film as he did, since it seems to emphasize, instead, Kane’s (Hearst’s?) role in shaping his country’s power nexus. Sadly, I think Welles backed off this crucial aspect of the powerful media capitalist who was his subject, even while reaping the weight of the resonance of the film’s title.