How to Write a Character-Driven Story

If you google “plot structures” and “how to plot my novel,” you’ll find tons of blog posts and many craft books eager to guide you. However, most of those are aimed at plot-driven stories. Search “how to plot a character-driven story,” and the results yield very little. This creates a quandary for those of us who love character-driven stories. How do we plot and outline a story type that is so ephemeral, abstract, and downright hard to put on paper?

I love reading and writing character-driven stories. They’re wholesome, powerful, and relatable. We all go through difficulties and are changed by them (hopefully for the better), and it can be validating and empowering to read how others handle their struggles, whether that’s in real-life memoir or a fictional story. But how do we capture that process in a story? What structure, if any, can we follow?

What Is a Character-Driven Story?

First, let’s get the definition down. A character-driven story is one in which the character’s internal journey drives the tension and storyline. Rather than relying on an external adventure to push the story along, it is the character’s internal world—their struggles and desires—that acts as the plot.

You’ll find that most literary works and most memoirs fall into this category. Here are some examples: Pride and Prejudice (Austen), Little Women (Alcott), To Kill a Mockingbird (Lee), The Book Thief (Zusak), Hope Was Here (Bauer), Educated (Westover), House Arrest (Holt), and…my novel, Breaking Open.

(My second novel is also character-driven, and for those who read my last blog post, YES, I DID submit it…even though it still needs work.)

The problem with character-driven stories

As we mentioned, the driving force in these kinds of books is the character’s internal journey. And this is where it gets tricky. How are you supposed to plot a book dictated by someone’s internal struggles? How are you supposed to write an engaging, tension-filled story if the character isn’t on a quest or constantly facing new external obstacles? What’s our plot in practical terms? Where’s the action, the adventure? How do you keep the writing exciting if all the action is essentially happening in the character’s head?

How to Plot the Character-Driven Story

There may not be a book dedicated to this topic (yet), but there are some golden bits and pieces I’ve found, and used, in different craft books to tackle this problem. The three main books I’ve used for this are (shocker) Save the Cat! Writes a Novel by Jessica Brody, Inside Story by Dara Marks, and The Emotional Craft of Fiction by Donald Maass (specifically pages 119 to 124—highly recommend!).

Here is the main idea: In a character-driven story, it is the character arc that will inform and guide the events of the story. So the very first thing to get straight is this: Where does my character start off, and where do I want them to end up?

For example, in Breaking Open, my protagonist Zahava starts off with her dreams broken and her self-confidence crushed. She’s grieving and has no idea how to handle it. She puts on a mask to pretend things are fine, while inside she’s falling apart. By the end of the book, she’s in a more balanced place: She’s regained trust with herself and G-d, but more than that, she’s grown in her self-confidence. She’s learned that she can do hard things.

Okay, that’s our beginning and end, slightly similar to Jessica Brody’s “first image” and “final image” story beats. We have an idea of where our character starts off and where they end up. Now the question is how they make that transformation—that will help us pinpoint our main story beats and subsequent scenes.

The “Secret” Ingredients

One of the genres Jessica Brody writes about is called “Rites of Passage,” which is essentially a character-driven genre. She lists three ingredients necessary to make these stories work (p. 104):

1. A life problem

2. A wrong way to attack that problem

3. A solution to the problem that involves acceptance of the hard truth the hero has been avoiding

Number one is usually easy—that often comes with the story idea you had in the first place. It’s number two, and especially number three, that is difficult…until you read Dara Marks’s Inside Story and realize that if you know your theme (another ingredient!), that will inform the kind of conflict and resolution you need for your story.

While Inside Story is directed at scriptwriters, the foundation Marks lays out is crucial for any writer, and especially those who explore character-driven stories. Her book taught me how crucial it is for the theme and character arc to be woven together—not just so it’s a good read, but so it’s easier to write. Once you know your theme, you know what conflict must occur for that theme to surface on the page.

For example, in Breaking Open the main theme is acceptance. Zahava struggles to accept her broken engagement (her life problem). She has difficulty accepting her renewed status as single, her difficult emotions after the break, and really, her own self. She tries to pretend that everything is normal (wrong way to attack the problem), but ultimately has to learn to accept her new situation—and herself.

Here’s a page in my journal that shows a glimpse into what this process looked like:

When plotting my book, I wrote pages and pages—about Zahava’s character, what internal shifts had to happen for her to change, and what characters or events need to occur in order for her character arc to be complete. I broke it into three acts and pretty much followed the fifteen Save the Cat! story beats. I then filled in my outline with scenes that showed her progression from nonacceptance to acceptance.

With my second book, I spent hours planning out the beats (and then reworking the entire thing) using cards and stickies:

To be clear, this is NOT easy work. And very often, distilling your story into a chart can only become possible after you write the first draft (or after hours of working at it, like I did). But if you can do at least some prep work before writing, or before revising, then you’ll have a much better idea of what story your writing and what needs to happen to make it great.

The Importance of Subplot

I cannot emphasize enough how much a solid subplot (or two or three) will change your story. If you’re having trouble building up enough meat on your character-driven story, the problem may lie in the subplot.

The subplot (sub as in “beneath,” not “lesser than”) carries a huge amount of your story and your character’s transformation. A simple way to understand the subplot is to see it as the relationship your protagonist forms with a character after the inciting incident. This character will help your protagonist realize the lesson they need to learn (the theme). They’re also called a B story character, and they can be a friend, mentor, rival, or love interest.

In Pride and Prejudice, it’s Mr. Darcy. In A Man Called Ove, it’s Ove’s new neighbors. In The Help, Aibeleen and Skeeter are each other’s B story characters. They help the protagonist transform from that first image to the final image you decided on. Plotting out this relationship and overlaying it with the main character arc will help you start fleshing out the overall plot.

My main B story character in Breaking Open is Zahava’s student. Orah’s problem is finding out she has dyslexia and feeling different from her classmates. Zahava also feels different socially because of her broken engagement. It is through their relationship that they each come to a place of acceptance with their struggles. Another B character I created was Zahava’s grandfather; her time with him shows her how grief is not a linear process, and we all deal with loss in different ways. Once I created several scenes for each of those subplots, the plot as a whole began to take shape.

Your Best Tool in Plotting

Donald Maass has a whole section in The Emotional Craft of Fiction about writing, as he calls it, a “non-plot-driven novel.” This excerpt in particular really helped me, as often the character-driven story is not about what a character is trying to achieve but what they’re trying to leave behind:

When your protagonist has no problem other than being stuck, the action of the novel needs to be about getting unstuck. What gives the non-plot novel its narrative tension is not what needs to get done, but the things that need to change. It’s not to save the world, but to transform the self (p. 120).

Read it again. Read it three times. This is what writers of character-driven stories need to realize: The transformation is the story. And as Maass writes, transformation that only happens in our heads isn’t change. It needs to surface physically in our interactions with people (such as our B story character) and events—and that’s what scenes are for. Start thinking of the major scenes in your character’s arc. And then apply Maass’s advice (p.123):

For each scene in your manuscript, ask the four big questions:

What could my protagonist do—right now—to get what he wants?

What’s getting in the way—right now—of talking things out?

Who—right now—is holding back my protagonist and how?

My character is avoiding herself for what reason—right now?

Focusing on what the obstacle is in this scene will ensure you have tension and conflict in every chapter. It will also help generate ideas for new scenes. When the character is the one propelling the plot, you need to do everything you can to keep the tension running. We don’t have dragons or light sabers helping us out here. But come one—we’ve all lived life. We know how tension-filled it can be. The hard part is writing it in a way that keeps readers engaged.

Your Backup Tool

Now, I don’t know about you, but when someone says “Ask yourself these questions,” I tend to get grumpy. First, because the questions are not easy to answer, and second, because sometimes I can’t even come up with an answer at all. And that stops me from even trying to answer the questions I can.

So here’s my tip: Try answering just one or two questions in the best way you can. And if you’re still struggling, make up the questions. Because the best tool at your disposal in plotting a character-driven story is asking questions. Here’s what this looks like:

My character is in [X condition]. What will get them out of that? What character would motivate them? What character would complicate things for them?

What might happen to send them spiraling? What might happen to pick them back up again?

What internal thoughts would they have? What is their comfort zone, their safe space, that they keep coming back to that might actually be damaging their growth? (This can be an addiction or something less intense, like refusing to meet new people.)

What MUST happen for this character to realize their safe space is harming them, and what will they do to get out of it?

And on and on. Questions allow you to explore possible conflicts and generate scene ideas. And that, quite frankly, can be the hardest part in drafting this kind of story.

In Summary

When plotting your character-driven story, get clear on your story’s theme, your character’s problem, and how your character’s transformation will continue to create conflict until they realize what they need to fix to complete their arc.

When in doubt, ask questions. And if you still find yourself stuck…hey, that’s what I’m here for. 😉 Give a shout, and we’ll get you up and writing again.

What’s your favorite character-driven story? Let me know in the comments below.

About Adina

Adina Edelman is a book editor who works with authors of memoir and fiction, especially historical, mystery, sci-fi/fantasy, literary, and middle-grade fiction. She’s all about mining your message, unearthing the gold in your story—not just the grammar errors.

Adina has worked on over 130 titles in the past five years (and published one of her own). She offers 30-minute coaching sessions alongside her editing services.

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