A story where the protagonist's own flaws or choices drive them toward downfall, leaving the audience moved through pity and fear.
Tragedy is one of the oldest story structures in existence, stretching back to ancient Greek theater. At its core, it follows a protagonist who starts in a position of relative strength or promise but is brought low by some combination of their own character flaws and the forces working against them. The key ingredient is that the fall feels inevitable in hindsight, not random. The audience watches someone make choices they understand, maybe even sympathize with, and those choices still lead to ruin.
Understanding tragic structure helps you write stories that hit readers on a gut level. When you know how to build a character whose strengths and flaws are the same trait, you create the kind of story people stay up until 3 a.m. finishing. Even if you never write a full tragedy, the mechanics of tragic structure (escalating stakes, irreversible choices, earned consequences) will make any story more powerful.
Macbeth's ambition, once sparked by the witches' prophecy, spirals beyond his control. Each murder demands another, and by the end he's hollowed out everything that once made him admirable.
Gatsby's obsessive idealism about Daisy and what she represents makes his downfall feel both heartbreaking and inevitable. He can't stop reaching for that green light.
Walter White's pride, the very quality that makes him a brilliant chemist, is exactly what turns him into a monster. A textbook modern tragedy told across five seasons.
Jude's story is a slow-burn tragedy where trauma, self-destruction, and the limits of love converge into something almost unbearably sad.
The tragedy should stem from the protagonist's own choices or character, not just bad luck. If a meteor kills your hero in the final chapter, that's not tragedy. That's just cruel plotting.
We need to care about this person before they fall. Show us what's admirable about them, what makes them human. The deeper the reader's attachment, the harder the fall hits.
Tragedy isn't just a bummer. It's a specific structure where the fall feels inevitable because of who the character is. A sad ending without that causal chain is just a downer.
Give the audience time to see the cracks forming. The best tragedies let you watch the protagonist pass point after point of no return, each time thinking they can still pull back.
Write a one-page character sketch of someone whose greatest strength is also their greatest weakness. Maybe they're so loyal it blinds them, or so honest it alienates everyone. Then outline three key decisions this person would make, each one logical from their perspective, that together lead to their undoing. Focus on making each choice feel reasonable in the moment.