What is a turning point in a story and how to write great ones

When you’re just starting to write stories, structure can feel like a four-letter word. You might picture a rigid outline, some math-y beat sheet, or a formula that drains all the joy out of writing.

But story structure isn’t about rules—it’s about rhythm. And one of the biggest rhythm changers in any story? Turning points.

Recently, someone using my WIP Notebook emailed me with a great question:

“What exactly is a turning point—and how do I know if I’ve hit one?”

It’s a simple question with a layered answer. Because turning points aren’t just about what happens. They’re about what changes—especially for your character.

Let’s dig in.

So, What Is a Turning Point?

A turning point in storytelling is the moment everything changes. It’s the event, decision, or revelation that forces the character into new territory—emotionally, physically, or both. It’s a point of no return. Even if they wanted to go back to the way things were, they couldn’t. They’ve seen too much. Felt too much. Changed too much.

According to Jericho Writers, a turning point “[reshapes] the trajectory of the narrative” by escalating stakes, creating conflict, or pushing the character toward an inevitable confrontation. It’s not just plot for plot’s sake—it’s movement with consequence.

And it’s personal.

I often think about storytelling like the Maypole dances we did in elementary school—each of us holding a streamer, weaving in and out, wrapping a long pole in this messy, beautiful braid. It’s chaos in motion. But every streamer matters. Every one is tied to a moment of choice, a moment of change. The turning points are the places where the pattern shifts—and once you’ve wrapped that part of the pole, you can’t undo it.

The Anatomy of a Turning Point

Years ago, I attended a workshop by Jenny Crusie that outlined key turning points in a story’s structure. Her breakdown stuck with me, and it still shows up in how I build arcs:

• Turning Point #1 – The First Complication (~30%)
  Stakes rise. New information arrives. The goal gets harder or more personal.
• Turning Point #2 – The Point of No Return (~55%)
  The protagonist changes in a way that makes going back impossible.
• Turning Point #3 – The Dark Moment (~80%)
  Everything falls apart. The emotional low point. The “all is lost” beat.
• Turning Point #4 – The Climax (~90–95%)
  The final choice. The last push. The action that defines the end.

But beyond percentages and plot math, turning points have to feel earned. They need to mean something. They have to crack something open in your character—or in the reader.

Let me show you what I mean.

Let’s Talk About Jane

Say your protagonist, Jane Heroine, wants to buy back her childhood home. That’s her goal. Her external “win.”

Enter Turning Point #1: She finds out the new owner is her ex-boyfriend, Jake—the one who ghosted her when she needed him most. Oh, and he’s now the CEO of the big, soulless corporation that bought the house. Cute.

She now has two options:

1. Give up and protect her emotional scar tissue.
2. Face him, face the corporation, and risk reopening old wounds.

She chooses to fight. And the story changes.

From here, the external plot (get the house back) is now tangled with the emotional one (get over, or maybe through, Jake). The goal is the same, but the cost of achieving it just skyrocketed.

What Makes It a True Turning Point?

The decision alone doesn’t qualify. What matters is what that decision causes next—and how it rewires the character. A turning point is only as good as the change it demands.

If Jane tells Jake her big secret—that she had his child and gave it up for adoption—then the fallout from that reveal has to shake the ground beneath her. If it doesn’t? It’s just a plot twist. A turning point isn’t about shock. It’s about shift.

The biggest turning point in Jane’s story might be when she finally realizes the house was never the point. It was safety. Nostalgia. A symbol. And once she understands that, she stops chasing the house and starts pursuing something real.

That’s the heart of a turning point: when the story isn’t just about what’s happening, but about what it’s revealing.

When a Turning Point… Doesn’t Turn

Let me borrow from soap operas for a second. (Yes, I watch General Hospital. No regrets.)

There’s a character named Jason Morgan who’s been through the emotional wringer—love, loss, betrayal, redemption. And yet, years later, he’s right back where he started. The relationships, the choices, the heartbreak… none of it seems to change him. He just resets.

That’s not a turning point. That’s a loop. And for a reader—or viewer—it starts to feel hollow. Like none of it mattered.

But here’s the thing: if you’ve ever written a story where your character didn’t change much, or didn’t react the way you hoped—they just sort of… kept going—you’re not doing anything wrong. You’re just still learning how to recognize when a moment should matter.

How to Know It’s a Turning Point

Ask yourself:

• What does this event force my character to confront?
• What will never be the same after this?
• What belief, behavior, or coping mechanism is no longer working?

If you can point to a shift in how your character thinks, feels, or moves through the world—congrats. You’ve found your turning point.

It’s okay if you’re still practicing. It’s okay if your draft doesn’t have all the pieces yet. The fact that you’re even asking “what should this change?” means you’re on the right track.

Final Thought

Turning points aren’t just about action. They’re about meaning. They’re the places your story insists on becoming something more.

So as you write—or revise—try asking this:

What does this moment change for my character… for good?

Because strong stories don’t always have perfect arcs or clean answers. But they always leave their characters (and readers) a little changed.

And that’s where the magic happens.