Why Your Plot Holes Might Actually Be Character Problems

You're deep into your manuscript when a beta reader asks the question that makes your stomach drop: "Wait, why doesn't your protagonist just call the police?" Or maybe it's "Why would she go into that abandoned warehouse alone?" Suddenly, what seemed like a thrilling plot twist looks more like a glaring logical inconsistency.

Here's the thing: plot holes often aren't really plot problems at all—they're character problems in disguise.

This is where Blake Snyder's "Save the Cat" methodology becomes incredibly useful. While most writers know Save the Cat for its beat sheet, the book's character archetypes offer a powerful diagnostic tool for identifying and fixing those pesky logical gaps that make readers roll their eyes.

Understanding the Core Character Types

Save the Cat identifies several key character archetypes that appear across successful stories. The main ones include:

- The Hero: Your protagonist who drives the action
- The Mentor: The guide who provides wisdom
- The Ally: The supportive friend or sidekick
- The Love Interest: Romantic or deeply personal connection
- The Nemesis: The primary antagonist
- The Trickster: The wild card who disrupts expectations

When plot holes emerge, it's often because one of these archetypes isn't pulling their weight—or worse, they're acting out of character to serve the plot rather than the other way around.

The "Why Didn't They Just..." Problem

Let's tackle the most common plot hole complaint: characters making obviously stupid decisions. Your hero walks into danger without backup. Your brilliant detective overlooks the obvious clue. Your rational protagonist trusts the obviously suspicious stranger.

The archetype solution: These situations usually mean you haven't properly established your character's fundamental type and their specific blind spots.

If you're writing a Golden Fleece story (a quest narrative), your hero should have a compelling personal reason that overrides rational decision-making. Maybe your protagonist goes into that warehouse alone because they're a Wounded Hero archetype who refuses help due to past trauma. Suddenly, that "stupid decision" becomes character-revealing drama.

Similarly, if your detective misses an obvious clue, establish them as a specific type of detective early on. Are they the intuition-over-evidence type? The brilliant-but-scattered type? When you know their archetype, you can plant the seeds of their limitations long before readers need to accept them.

When Secondary Characters Create Plot Holes

Here's a sneaky source of logical inconsistencies: underdeveloped supporting characters who exist only to move the plot forward.

You know this character. They appear exactly when needed, provide crucial information, then disappear. Or they're the friend who acts completely out of character to create conflict. Readers smell this from a mile away.

The archetype framework helps here by demanding that every significant character has a clear function beyond plot convenience:

The Mentor character shouldn't just appear to give your hero information—they should have their own arc and limitations. Maybe they have the knowledge but refuse to share it directly because of their own past failures. Now you've got dramatic tension AND logical consistency.

The Ally character serves as more than comic relief or emotional support. They should have skills or perspectives that complement your hero's weaknesses. When you need to split your characters up (always a plot hole risk), an Ally with their own subplot and motivations will make that separation feel organic rather than contrived.

The Villain's Motivation Gap

Nothing creates plot holes faster than a villain whose plan doesn't actually make sense. Why such an elaborate scheme? Why not just kill the hero when they had the chance? Why this particular target?

Save the Cat's Nemesis archetype demands that your antagonist isn't just evil—they're the dark mirror of your protagonist. They want the same thing but will use opposite methods to get it, or they represent what your hero fears becoming.

When you develop your villain this way, their seemingly illogical choices suddenly snap into focus. They don't kill the hero immediately because they need to prove their superiority first. They choose this specific target because it's symbolically important to their worldview. Their elaborate plan isn't about efficiency—it's about making a statement.

Pro tip: If your villain's plan seems overcomplicated, ask yourself what emotional need it fulfills for them. Logic gaps often disappear when character psychology fills them.

Using Archetypes to Stress-Test Your Plot

Here's a practical exercise for identifying potential plot holes before readers do:

1. List every major decision point in your story (moments where characters choose what happens next)

2. Identify which archetype is driving that decision (Hero, Mentor, Ally, Nemesis, etc.)

3. Ask if that archetype's core traits justify the decision

4. If not, either change the decision or deepen the character

For example, if your Hero makes a sacrifice play in Act 3, trace backward: Have you established them as someone who values others over themselves? If you're writing an Everyman Hero (like in "Die Hard"), that nobility should feel hard-won and desperate, not easy. If you're writing a Chosen One Hero (like in "The Matrix"), that sacrifice might feel more inevitable but should still cost them something personal.

The Romance Plot Hole Exception

Romance subplots are plot-hole factories. Why do these two people fall in love? Why don't they just communicate? Why does this relationship matter to the main plot?

The Love Interest archetype in Save the Cat isn't just about attraction—it's about completion. Your Love Interest should represent something your protagonist needs to become whole. They should challenge your hero's worldview and force growth.

When romance feels tacked-on or illogical, it's usually because the Love Interest is just an archetype without specific function. Make them matter to your hero's internal journey, and suddenly all those romantic complications feel necessary rather than frustrating.

Conclusion: Character Is Logic

The beautiful thing about using character archetypes to fix plot holes is that you're not just patching problems—you're deepening your story. When characters act from clear, established motivations rooted in their archetypal function, the plot follows naturally.

Your readers will forgive nearly any implausible scenario if the characters' reactions feel authentic. They'll even embrace seemingly illogical choices if those choices reveal something true about who the character is.

So the next time someone points out a plot hole, don't immediately restructure your story. First, examine your characters. Make sure each archetype is fully realized, with clear motivations, limitations, and blind spots. More often than not, the solution isn't changing what happens—it's clarifying why it happens and who's making it happen.

Your plot isn't broken. Your characters just need a little more depth.