I've tried a lot of plotting methods over the years. The three-act structure. Save the Cat. The snowflake method. Story grids and beat sheets and index cards scattered across my floor like evidence from a crime scene.
Most of them helped a little. Some of them helped a lot with specific problems. But almost all of them shared the same fatal flaw.
They told me how to start my story. They told me how to end it. And then they waved vaguely at the vast wasteland in between and said something like "this is where the conflict develops" as if that explained anything at all.
The middle of a novel is where dreams go to die. It's where I'd lose momentum around chapter eight, start questioning every decision I'd made, and eventually abandon the project for something shinier. Sound familiar?
Then I stumbled across Derek Murphy's 24 chapter outline, and something finally clicked.
Murphy is an author and academic who got his PhD studying literature from Harry Potter to Paradise Lost. He was frustrated by the same thing I was. Existing plotting structures left massive gaps right where writers needed the most guidance. So he built something better.
The 24 chapter outline doesn't just tell you where to start and where to land. It gives you a specific destination for every single chapter. Not in a restrictive way that kills creativity, but in a way that answers the question every stuck writer asks themselves at 2 AM. What the hell is supposed to happen next?
I'm going to walk you through the entire framework, chapter by chapter. By the end, you'll have a complete roadmap for your novel that actually addresses that saggy middle everyone warns you about.
Why Most Plotting Advice Leaves You Stranded in the Middle
Here's the dirty secret about the traditional three-act structure. It's not wrong. It's just incomplete.
Act one is setup. Act three is resolution. Act two is... everything else. And "everything else" typically accounts for about half your entire book.
That's like giving someone directions that say "start at your house, end at the beach, and somewhere in the middle you'll drive for a while." Technically accurate. Completely useless for navigation.
The middle is where novels collapse. It's where pacing falls apart, where characters seem to wander aimlessly, where readers put the book down and never pick it back up. Most writers know this instinctively because they've felt it. That creeping dread around the 30,000 word mark when you realize you have no idea what's supposed to happen for the next 40,000 words.
Derek Murphy's key insight was recognizing that act two isn't one thing. It's two completely different movements with different purposes and different energy.
The first half of the middle is reactive. Your hero has been thrown into a new situation and they're scrambling to understand the rules. They're making mistakes. They're meeting allies and enemies. They're learning.
The second half of the middle is proactive. Your hero has figured out enough to take action. They're making plans. They're fighting back. And things are getting worse despite their best efforts.
These two phases require different approaches to writing. Different pacing. Different emotional beats. Treating them as one undifferentiated blob is why so many middles feel muddy and directionless.
The 24 chapter outline splits your story into four acts instead of three. It gives each act a clear purpose. And it tells you exactly what each chapter should accomplish so you're never staring at a blank page wondering where to go.
The Architecture of the 24 Chapter Outline
Before we dive into the chapter-by-chapter breakdown, let's look at the overall structure. Think of this as the map before we start examining individual streets.
The framework divides your novel into four distinct acts.
Act 1 (Chapters 1-6): The Hero in the Ordinary World. This is setup. Who is your protagonist, what do they want, what's holding them back, and what event forces them out of their comfort zone?
Act 2A (Chapters 7-12): Exploring the New World. Your hero is a fish out of water. They're reacting, learning, struggling, and slowly figuring out the rules of this new situation. This act ends at the midpoint, where the hero transforms from passive victim to active warrior.
Act 2B (Chapters 13-18): Bad Guys Close In. Your hero is now fighting back, but so is the antagonist. Plans are made and executed. Stakes escalate. Everything builds toward a catastrophic failure that leaves your hero at their lowest point.
Act 3 (Chapters 19-24): Defeat and Victory. The finale. Your hero must claw their way back from total defeat, confront their deepest flaw, and either triumph or fail in a way that feels earned.
Here's a quick reference you can come back to.
- Chapter 1: The Really Bad Day
- Chapter 2: Something Peculiar
- Chapter 3: Grasping at Straws
- Chapter 4: Call to Adventure
- Chapter 5: Head in Sand
- Chapter 6: Pull Out the Rug
- Chapter 7: Enemies and Allies
- Chapter 8: Games and Trials
- Chapter 9: Earning Respect
- Chapter 10: Forces of Evil
- Chapter 11: Problem Revealed
- Chapter 12: Truth and Ultimatum
- Chapter 13: The Mirror Stage
- Chapter 14: Plan of Attack
- Chapter 15: Crucial Role
- Chapter 16: Direct Conflict
- Chapter 17: Surprise Failure
- Chapter 18: Shocking Revelation
- Chapter 19: Giving Up
- Chapter 20: Pep Talk
- Chapter 21: Seizing the Sword
- Chapter 22: Ultimate Defeat
- Chapter 23: Unexpected Victory
- Chapter 24: Bittersweet Reflection
There's also an optional Chapter 25 for series setup or thematic closure, but we'll get to that later.
The beauty of this framework is that each chapter has a job. You always know what you're trying to accomplish. That doesn't mean every chapter has to be exactly the same length or that you can't combine or expand beats as needed. It means you have a target for every writing session instead of vaguely hoping the story will figure itself out.
Act 1: The Hero in the Ordinary World
The first six chapters establish everything readers need to understand before you blow up your protagonist's life. This is where you make them care.
Chapter 1: The Really Bad Day
Do not start with your character waking up and going through their morning routine. I'm begging you. Start with them in their normal world on a day when they really want something and can't get it.
This accomplishes several things at once. It reveals character through action instead of explanation. It shows their fatal flaw in operation. It demonstrates their deepest desire. And it hooks the reader with immediate conflict.
The key word here is "want." Your protagonist needs to be actively pursuing something in chapter one, even if it's small. A promotion. A date. Respect from a parent. Something they can reach for and fail to grasp, which reveals who they are when they don't get what they want.
Chapter 2: Something Peculiar
Something weird happens. It's a hint of the main conflict coming, but your hero dismisses it. They're too caught up in their really bad day to notice the storm clouds.
This is foreshadowing that doesn't feel like foreshadowing to the character. They rationalize it away or simply don't have the context to understand what it means. But the reader knows something is brewing.
Maybe it's a stranger who asks an odd question. A news report playing in the background. A small detail that seems out of place. Plant the seed without making it obvious.
Chapter 3: Grasping at Straws
Your hero's normal methods of control stop working. Whatever strategies they've used to keep their life together are failing. Setbacks multiply.
This chapter increases the pressure on the ordinary world. The cracks are showing. Your protagonist feels their grip slipping even though they don't yet understand why. The sense of impending change builds.
Chapter 4: Call to Adventure
This is the big event. The inciting incident. Something happens that the character cannot ignore, and it makes clear that the ordinary world is officially broken.
Notice we're in chapter four before the call to adventure arrives. That's intentional. The first three chapters earn this moment by making us understand what's being disrupted. A call to adventure means nothing if we don't first understand what the hero is being called away from.
Chapter 5: Head in Sand
The hero refuses the call. They want their old life back, unsatisfying as it was, because at least it was familiar.
This is a moment of very human fear and reluctance. Your protagonist isn't stupid for hesitating. Leaving everything you know is terrifying. Let them resist. Let them try to pretend the problem doesn't exist or that someone else will handle it.
This beat often gets skipped by eager writers who want to get to the action. Don't skip it. The refusal makes the acceptance meaningful.
Chapter 6: Pull Out the Rug
Something forces the hero to accept the adventure whether they want to or not. The choice is made for them through an event that's usually deeply personal.
Maybe their home is destroyed. Maybe someone they love is taken. Maybe the thing they were trying to protect is now gone. Whatever it is, staying put becomes impossible.
This is liftoff. Your hero crosses the threshold into a new world, whether that's a literal new location or simply a new situation that changes everything about how they have to operate.
Act 2A: Fish Out of Water
Chapters 7 through 12 cover the first half of your middle. This is the reactive phase. Your hero has entered unfamiliar territory and they're scrambling to adapt.
Chapter 7: Enemies and Allies
As your protagonist explores this strange new landscape, they start meeting the people who will define their journey. Friends, mentors, rivals, and enemies begin to emerge.
Don't just dump a bunch of characters at once. Introduce them through meaningful interactions that reveal something about both the new character and your protagonist. Every relationship should create either possibility or tension.
Chapter 8: Games and Trials
Your hero struggles. They try to fit in and mostly fail. They attempt new skills and fall short. They misread situations and pay for it.
This is the training montage, except it's filled with frustration and self-doubt rather than triumphant music. Your protagonist is learning the rules of this new world the hard way. Let them stumble. Let them feel incompetent. Growth requires starting from a place of inadequacy.
Chapter 9: Earning Respect
After all that struggling, your hero scores a small but significant victory. It proves they might have what it takes. It earns them some grudging respect from the people around them.
This isn't the big win. It's a taste of competence. A moment where the hero surprises themselves and others. It's enough to keep them going and to make the reader believe they might actually be able to handle what's coming.
Chapter 10: Forces of Evil
Now we see the antagonist in full. Whatever they're up to, its scope and danger become clear. Your hero realizes just how serious this situation actually is.
Up until now, the threat might have been abstract or partially hidden. Chapter 10 removes the ambiguity. The stakes get raised dramatically. Your protagonist understands they're in over their head.
Chapter 11: Problem Revealed
Shaken by what they've learned about the threat, your hero demands answers. They turn to their allies, who may have been holding back information to protect them.
This is a moment of confrontation within the hero's own team. Secrets come out. Context is provided. The protagonist realizes they've been operating with incomplete information, and they need the full picture if they're going to survive.
Chapter 12: Truth and Ultimatum
A piece of information changes everything. Some truth is revealed that transforms your hero's understanding of the situation, themselves, or both.
This truth forces them to a crossroads. They must make a choice that will define everything that follows.
The midpoint is where your hero stops being a victim and becomes a warrior. They're no longer just reacting to events. They're choosing to fight back. This shift in stance is what separates the first half of the middle from the second half.
If your midpoint doesn't contain this transformation, your second half will feel like more of the same. The energy needs to change here. Your protagonist needs to change here.
Act 2B: When Everything Goes Wrong
Chapters 13 through 18 cover the second half of your middle. This is the proactive phase. Your hero is no longer just surviving. They're on the offensive. Unfortunately, so is the antagonist.
Chapter 13: The Mirror Stage
Your hero takes a moment to reflect on who they're becoming. They've changed since chapter one. They accept their new role and purpose.
This is often a quieter beat after the intensity of the midpoint revelation. It's a moment of integration before the action escalates. Your protagonist looks in the mirror, literally or figuratively, and acknowledges the person looking back.
Chapter 14: Plan of Attack
Fully committed to the fight, your protagonist formulates a plan. They're done reacting. They're going to take the battle to the antagonist.
This plan should feel achievable based on what the hero has learned. It should use the skills and alliances they've developed. And it should have a fatal flaw that the hero doesn't see but the reader might suspect.
Chapter 15: Crucial Role
The hero's allies entrust them with a vital role in the plan. Without the protagonist's specific skills, knowledge, or abilities, the whole thing falls apart.
This beat reinforces that your hero isn't just along for the ride. They're essential. The weight of responsibility settles on their shoulders. They can't afford to fail because everyone is counting on them.
Chapter 16: Direct Conflict
The plan is executed. Your hero and their allies engage directly with the antagonist's forces. For a moment, it might even look like they're winning.
This is action. This is confrontation. This is everything they've been building toward finally clashing. Let it feel like triumph is possible.
Chapter 17: Surprise Failure
Then everything goes wrong.
The plan fails catastrophically. An ally might die. A key advantage is lost. The hero suffers a major setback that changes the equation entirely. The consequences are real, permanent, and devastating.
This isn't a minor speedbump. Something should break that cannot be unbroken. The cost of failure needs to be paid in blood, literally or metaphorically.
Chapter 18: Shocking Revelation
As if the failure weren't enough, the antagonist's true identity or full plan is revealed. The scope of the threat becomes clear in a way that makes everything worse.
Your hero is hit with guilt and anger. They realize they've underestimated the enemy at every turn. Everything they thought they knew was wrong, or at least incomplete.
This is your protagonist's lowest point. The end of act two leaves them broken, defeated, and apparently hopeless.
Act 3: The Final Push
The last six chapters are where everything pays off. Your hero must climb back from total defeat and face the ultimate confrontation.
Chapter 19: Giving Up
After the catastrophic failure, your hero loses all confidence. They've been beaten and they know it. Hope feels like a luxury they can no longer afford.
Let this moment breathe. Don't rush past the despair. Your protagonist needs to genuinely give up before they can choose to get back up. The depth of the hole determines the impressiveness of the climb.
Chapter 20: Pep Talk
Just when everything seems lost, help arrives. An ally offers encouragement, a new perspective, or a crucial piece of information. Something gives the hero a reason to try again.
This isn't the hero pulling themselves up by their bootstraps through sheer willpower. It's a moment of connection. A reminder that they're not alone. The support system they built in act two now returns that investment.
Chapter 21: Seizing the Sword
The hero makes a deliberate choice to try again despite the odds. They confront their fatal flaw directly. They gather whatever resources remain for one final attempt.
This is different from chapter 6, where the choice was forced on them. Here, they choose freely. Knowing the cost. Knowing the risk. Choosing to fight anyway.
Chapter 22: Ultimate Defeat
Your hero faces the villain and gets crushed one more time.
Wait, what?
Yeah. One more defeat. The hero thinks they understand what to do, but their hubris or remaining blind spots lead to a final crushing loss. The villain has won, or appears to have won.
This beat is what makes the victory feel earned. If the hero just walked in and succeeded after the pep talk, the ending would feel too easy. They need to fail at the moment of truth before finding the real answer.
Chapter 23: Unexpected Victory
At their absolute lowest point, with apparently no options left, the hero has a breakthrough. They finally understand their flaw completely. They let go of what they want in favor of what they need to do. They use some ability, knowledge, or alliance in an unexpected way.
Victory is snatched from the jaws of defeat. Not through luck or convenience, but through everything the hero has learned and become over the course of the story finally clicking into place.
Chapter 24: Bittersweet Reflection
The battle is won. Now comes the aftermath.
This chapter provides resolution. It shows the cost of victory. It reveals the new person your hero has become. Maybe it's celebration. Maybe it's grief. Usually it's some combination of both.
Don't rush this. Readers need time to process what happened. Give them space to sit with the ending before you close the book.
Chapter 25: Death of Self (Optional)
This extra chapter shows your hero fully integrated into their transformed world. They've completely become their new self. The old version of them is gone.
For standalone novels, this can tie up loose ends or provide thematic closure. For series, this is where you plant seeds for future books. It's a grace note, not a requirement, but it can add a satisfying final beat.
How to Use the 24 Chapter Outline Without Losing Your Mind
Here's where I need to add an important caveat. This framework is a guide, not a straitjacket.
Your novel does not have to be exactly 24 chapters. Some of these beats might combine naturally into single chapters. Some might need to be split across multiple chapters depending on your genre and pacing. A thriller might breeze through early chapters and expand the confrontations. A literary novel might do the opposite.
The 24 chapters are waypoints, not prison cells. They tell you what function each part of your story should serve. How you actually structure your chapters is up to you.
I find this framework most useful in three ways.
As a planning tool. Before I start writing, I sketch out what each of these 24 beats might look like in my specific story. Just a sentence or two each. Enough to know where I'm going without locking myself into specifics that might change.
As a diagnostic tool. If I'm reading a draft and something feels off, I can map what I wrote against this structure and see where I deviated. Sometimes deviation is fine. Sometimes it reveals why the pacing feels wrong or why readers lose interest at a specific point.
As an unsticking tool. When I don't know what to write next, I look at where I am in the structure and ask myself what this section is supposed to accomplish. That usually points me toward what needs to happen even if I don't know the exact scene yet.
The outline works best when you hold it loosely. Use it as a conversation partner, not a dictator. Ask yourself why each beat exists and whether your story would benefit from hitting it. If the answer is no, skip it. If the answer is yes, you've got direction.
Where This Outline Works Best (And Where to Adapt)
The 24 chapter outline was designed with commercial fiction in mind. If you're writing fantasy, thriller, romance, mystery, or science fiction, this framework will likely fit your story like a glove.
These genres tend to be plot-forward. They rely on clear story structure to create momentum and satisfy reader expectations. The outline gives you exactly what these stories need.
Literary fiction requires more adaptation. The emphasis on external plot events might not match a story driven primarily by internal change or thematic exploration. The bones of the structure still work, but you'll want to translate beats like "Direct Conflict" into whatever form conflict takes in your specific narrative.
Shorter works need compression. If you're writing a novella or short novel, you might hit multiple beats per chapter or skip some beats entirely. Focus on the essential moments rather than trying to fit everything in.
Series have additional considerations. Each book should have its own complete arc following this structure, but you're also building toward larger series resolutions. Chapter 25 becomes more important for seeding future installments.
The real measure of any plotting framework is whether it helps you finish. That's it. If the 24 chapter outline helps you push through the middle and reach the end, it's done its job. If some other method works better for your brain, use that instead. There's no prize for using the "correct" structure. There's only the book you actually write.
The Goal Isn't a Perfect Outline
I've watched a lot of writers get so caught up in perfecting their outline that they never write the actual book. Don't be that person.
The outline is a tool. It removes the single biggest obstacle most writers face, which is not knowing what comes next. When you have 24 beats mapped out, you always know what you're working toward in the current section. That knowledge creates momentum. Momentum creates finished drafts.
Your outline doesn't have to be perfect before you start writing. It doesn't even have to be complete. Some writers outline the whole book in detail. Others just outline a few chapters ahead and figure out the rest as they go. Both approaches work as long as they result in forward motion.
The thing I like most about the 24 chapter outline is how it demystifies the middle. That terrifying expanse of story between setup and climax becomes manageable when you can see it as two distinct movements with specific goals. Act 2A is learning and reacting. Act 2B is fighting and failing. The midpoint pivots between them. Suddenly the impossible middle becomes navigable.
You might follow this framework exactly for your first novel and then never use it again. You might adapt it heavily from day one. You might come back to it only when you're stuck. All of those are valid approaches.
What matters is that you have something. Some map. Some structure. Some answer to the question of what happens next when you're tired and doubting and the story feels like it's going nowhere.
The 24 chapter outline gave me that answer. Maybe it'll do the same for you.
Now stop reading about writing and go write something.
