How to Disrupt Your Character's Ordinary World

This post is part eighteen of a series on story structure for fiction writers—practical, straightforward, and designed to help you build stories that actually work.

Last week we looked at the inciting incident: the event that sets the main story in motion.
But simply having something happen isn't enough.
It has to matter.
More importantly, it has to upset something.
Your protagonist had a life before your story came along and ruined it for them. They had routines, relationships, assumptions and plans. They knew, more or less, what tomorrow would look like.
Then you, the author, interfere.
Quite right too. That's your job.

Start with something worth disrupting
This is one reason the ordinary world matters so much.
If we don't understand what normal life looks like for the protagonist, we won't fully appreciate what has changed.
Suppose Tom lives alone, hates his job and hasn't spoken to his family in years.
Then he loses his job.
That's certainly a problem.
But suppose Tom loves his job, has spent twenty years building his career and is six months away from the promotion he's dreamed about.
Now they sack him.
Same event.
Very different story.
The disruption becomes powerful because we understand what has been lost.

Disruption doesn't mean disaster
This is worth stressing.
Writers sometimes hear "disrupt the ordinary world" and immediately reach for the nearest corpse.
You don't need one.
A disruption can be wonderful.
Someone falls in love.
A woman discovers she's inherited a fortune.
A struggling actor is offered the role of a lifetime.
A scientist makes an extraordinary discovery.
All good news.
Except...
Love creates vulnerability.
Money creates choices.
Success creates pressure.
Discovery creates consequences.
A disruption isn't necessarily something bad.
It's something that makes the old life difficult—or impossible—to continue.

Every genre does this
This is where story structure becomes rather interesting.
The surface events may be completely different, but the underlying movement is remarkably similar.
In a romance, someone enters the protagonist's life and disturbs their emotional equilibrium.
In a mystery, a crime creates questions that can't be ignored.
In horror, something threatens the protagonist's understanding of what is safe or even possible.
In a family drama, an old secret may suddenly surface.
In science fiction, first contact might change humanity's understanding of its place in the universe.
Different genres.
Same basic problem.

Yesterday's rules no longer work.

Make it personal
Imagine that your protagonist hears on the radio that a factory has closed.
That's information.
Now imagine it's the factory where they've worked for thirty years.
That's disruption.
Or perhaps someone announces they're getting married.
Lovely.
Unless it's the protagonist's former partner.
Or the person they've secretly loved for ten years.
The closer the event comes to something your character values, fears or wants, the more powerful it becomes.
This is why knowing your protagonist before plotting the disruption is so useful.
You know where to poke them.
Authors are lovely people.

Attack stability
One useful way of thinking about disruption is to ask:
What does my protagonist currently rely upon?
Perhaps it's:

• money
• marriage
• family
• reputation
• routine
• faith
• career
• independence
• safety
• certainty

Now disturb it.
You don't necessarily have to destroy it.
Sometimes merely threatening it is enough.
A happily married man doesn't need to discover his wife is having an affair.
Perhaps he simply finds a hotel receipt he can't explain.
Suddenly the ordinary world looks different.
Nothing has actually been proved.
But certainty has gone.
And once certainty disappears, stories have a nasty habit of beginning.

The best disruptions create decisions
This is important.
A good disruption doesn't merely give your protagonist something to worry about.
It eventually forces them to choose.
Do they:

• investigate?
• run away?
• accept the offer?
• confront someone?
• keep the secret?
• take the risk?
• pretend nothing happened?

Now your character is participating in the story rather than merely having events thrown at them.
And whatever they choose should create consequences.

Don't solve the problem too quickly
Imagine this:
Sarah loses her job on Monday.
Excellent. Life disrupted.
On Tuesday she finds a better one.
Well, that was unfortunate.
Story over.
The disruption needs consequences that spread.
Perhaps losing the job threatens Sarah's mortgage.
Perhaps she doesn't tell her husband.
Perhaps the only work available is with someone she despises.
Perhaps she discovers why she was really dismissed.
One problem creates another.
That's how stories grow.

Let your protagonist resist
People like stability.
Even when their lives aren't particularly good, the familiar can feel safer than the unknown.
So your protagonist may try to restore normality.
They may:

• deny what's happening
• minimise it
• bargain
• hide
• make excuses
• convince themselves it'll all blow over

That's useful.
Because the harder they try to preserve the old world, the clearer it becomes that the old world is disappearing.
Which leads naturally to an important part of story structure we'll explore soon: resistance.

Don't confuse disruption with noise
A car chase is exciting.
An explosion is dramatic.
A murder is shocking.
But none automatically makes a good inciting disruption.
Ask yourself:
What has actually changed for my protagonist?
If the answer is "not much", all you've created is noise.
Sometimes a whispered sentence across a kitchen table can disrupt a life more thoroughly than blowing up half of London.
And it's considerably cheaper to write.

A simple exercise
Write down three things your protagonist depends upon at the beginning of your story.
Not possessions necessarily.
Think about emotional stability as well.
For example:
My protagonist relies upon:

1. Her marriage.
2. Her reputation in the village.
3. Her belief that her daughter trusts her.

Now ask:
Which one could I disturb?
Then:
What consequences would follow?
If disturbing one thing immediately creates several new problems, you've probably found fertile ground for your story.

Final thought
The inciting incident is the spark.
The disruption is the fire beginning to spread.
Something that mattered yesterday no longer feels secure today.
Your protagonist may desperately want life to return to normal.
Don't let them.
You're a novelist.
Being horrible to imaginary people is practically in the job description.

If you'd like the full guide when it's finished, you can join my email list here. I'll send you a copy when it's ready.

Next week: Why the Inciting Incident Must Matter to Your Hero