A visitor in a high school English class, an author. He’s working on his nineteenth book. He gives a little autobiographical info, begins talking about how stories are constructed. The students are cautiously interested. They stay cool. They are teenagers.

On the screen there’s a projection of the 3-act story structure. After the first fourth of the story you get to a point of no return, the main character has made irreversible choices, there’s a thorny problem that has to be resolved. On we go, building tension, the story urges itself forward. And just when it seems that the worst imaginable disaster is looming large, that all is lost, the hero is, well, a hero. Bam! Climax and denouement, a nice loan word I’ve always admired. Why just end something when you can denoue? 

But before any of that there’s something really interesting about a story, he says. “And after we talk about this you are going to notice it in almost any movie you watch, any novel you read.” The students look at him expectantly. “It’s the ‘Save the Cat’ scene. The scene at the beginning that makes you care about the main character because they do something admirable.”

I can’t help but do a quick bit of research. Sure enough, it’s a phrase in screenwriting invented by Blake Snyder. Snyder died in Beverly Hills in 2009. His memory lives on in plenty of videos and web pages – and his book – explaining Save the Cat. 

The students are asked to pull out a notebook and something to write with. They are going to come up with an opening to a story, their own Save the Cat scene. I’m thrilled as their creativity kicks in and they start brainstorming possible scenes. Who is the main character? What metaphorical cat is being saved? Can they imagine how the story might continue?

Our author gets their attention again after about ten minutes. “Does anyone want to share?” Here’s a few of their scenes:

Lucas, from Philadelphia, is a wealthy twenty-year-old studying maritime law in London. One night he’s in an alley in South Kensington after a late night in the club. The tube station was closed, he’s on foot. He hears what might be a call for help. He hesitates, debating whether to ignore it, but then retraces his steps, listening. He eventually identifies the cellar window where the voice is coming from. He bends down and wrenches the window open …

Juan, a boy from Mexico, has been stealing money. The opening scene shows his technique. He’s sly and quick, obviously an expert pickpocket. We see him rounding a corner and pulling bills from a wallet. Then hands them to a woman in rags, huddled on the sidewalk on a piece of cardboard …

Equavius Johnson is a star basketball player taking steroids to be bigger, stronger. A teammate approaches him in the locker room after the rest of the players have left. The teammate wants to buy steroids, wants to bulk up. Equavius invites his teammate to sit down on the bench. He tells him he doesn’t want to risk his career. 

Katheryn, a saleswoman in a jewelry store, has been replacing jewelry with fakes and selling them for years. Not too often, nothing too expensive. But when a new boss sexually harasses her, she decides to take her thieving to a new level. The exposition scheduled for the following week is her target. If she can steal that, her boss will be ruined …

Not bad, I think, as I listen to the students share their scenes. I bet our visiting author is impressed. Thank goodness he didn’t just read a chapter, he didn’t just lecture about the arc of a story, he didn’t just talk.