A good scene is one of the beauties of great fiction. Ideally, it pulls readers in with a hook (which can be a soft hook, based on what came before). The protagonist’s purpose is clear. There’s hope and disaster with escalating jeopardy throughout. And, at the ending, there is a clear indication of how the purpose pursued turned out. (Usually, not well.)
In other words, a good scene is a good story, all by itself.
When a scene opens, it could be a continuation of what happened before (particularly if there was a cliffhanger), but it’s more likely to be occurring in a different place at a different time. And who is present matters, too. If it becomes unintentionally confusing to a reader, it’s likely they are disoriented.
This is all essential information, but it tends to drag the story down if it is pure narration. This can be dodged if an arresting image (a prison wall, the Emerald City) or action (plane crash, kiss) is used to carry valuable orienting information. Poetic language and quotes can also be used to make the information more palatable (less easily in the 21st century than it was in the more patient 19th century).
The most common and one of the best ways to orient a reader or an audience is through the eyes of a character (especially the protagonist). Whatever the character notices, responds to emotionally, and sees as important becomes valuable to the reader. So, adding humanity to the job of specifying time and place makes the information difficult to skip by or ignore.
Mastery of Story Scene 1: Orient the reader as efficiently as possible.
Practice: Find a way to get the point of view character emotionally involved in the setting. Looking for danger. Being flooded with memories. Feeling awe at the beauty of a palace. Setting a scene outdoors can make this exercise easier because most of us have a relationship with Nature. If the main character pauses to enjoy the setting of the sun behind snow capped mountains, a lot of orientation is done. If the hero slows his pace as he steps off the path to enter a dark forest and listens to catch the growls of predators over the pounding of his heart, the reader is there with him, and not skipping ahead.
- what the task is,
- what success would look like,
- what the obstacles are,
- what the current risks and consequences of failure might be, and
- what the price of achieving (or failing) the task is expected to be.
My favorite example is the Cliffs of Insanity scene in The Princess Bride. Vizinni and his gang have the goal of leaving their pursuer (Westley) behind. The task is climbing the Cliffs. Vizzini imagines Wesley losing time finding a port, ensuring an escape (and using the Princess to achieve their major goal, starting a war). No such luck. He follows them up the cliff. Westley could catch up and stop them. Fezzik is berated and directly threatened with losing his job. But there is more than a hint that Westley might be personally, physically dangerous to all of them (except the Princess) because he seems to be a force of nature.
So, Vizinni’s almost-monologue narrates the need for success and the consequences. Also, Vizzini shows his desperation with the tone of his remarks and the speed with which he cuts the rope (beginning even before Fezzik is safely off the cliff face). The visuals of the Cliffs and Westley pursuing and gaining on them shows the obstacles and implies risks (failing, being slain, falling). The presence of the Princess is a reminder of the larger goal.
Of course, a real dialogue can occur (including warnings and premature fantasies about success). Things can be set up in a previous scene. (“Tomorrow, we rob the bank.” The next scene begins with the banker opening the door.) Reactions of multiple characters (usually with differences) can be good indicators. (“This will be easy.” His partner frowns.) Irony can be used. Think of the ending of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid where they have no idea that they are up against, not a posse, but an army.
Mastery of Story Scene 2: Make it clear why this scene matters.
Practice: Find three scenes you love. See when and how that task is presented. (It may be that part of this was presented at the end of the previous scene. If all your chosen scenes use the same devices, try to find a scene that uses a different approach.
To begin to develop your skill, write the beginning of a scene from your story in at least two different ways that communicate the purpose of the scene within the larger context.
Since you know the purpose of a scene in terms of information presented and how things will end up plot-wise, it’s easy to get that down and feel like the job is done. No. Not true. A joke fails if the punchline is revealed before the end. Scenes need to be journeys, not destinations. The pacing matters. The energy matters. The moments matter. The tension matters.
Fundamentally, a scene is built up of beats (even in prose, where a scene and sequel structure may be used). The meaning of beat has been blurred and used for a variety of purposes, but I find it useful in this context to refer to power shifts. Throughout a scene, there are points where power moves from one character to another or the powerful person becomes relatively more powerful.
Imagine a fight. The hero gets clocked and staggers backward (opponent has more power). But when the opponent charges, the hero slips to the side and trips him so he’s flat on the ground (hero has more power). As the hero goes to finish him off, the opponent pulls a knife and slashes his Achilles tendon (opponent has more power. When the hero falls, the opponent slides over and holds his blade against the hero’s neck (opponent has even more power).
Of course, a battle does not need to be physical. And it need not involve intrinsically bad things happening. Humiliation, threats, and dark revelations can shift power, but so can bribes and flattery. Even advice and warnings can shift power, with Iago’s lie-filled counsel to Othello being a horrifying example.
A good rule of thumb is to have three to five beats in a scene. Too few can make a scene feel trivial or incomplete (recognizing having things unresolved may be good at times). Too many can make it feel redundant or static.
While beats are the primary means for managing the energy in a scene, there can be more than power shifts. The reader can be brought in personally (and not just exploiting empathy with a character) through raising questions and exciting curiosity. The main character may reveal a secret that explains and even twists what came earlier (Vader: “No, I am your father.”)
Set pieces, like car chases, may intrude (real risks to managing energy). Comic relief may interrupt tension, allowing for greater emotional impact in what follows. French scenes, where another character enters, can dramatically shift some elements or everything about a scene. Or they can add excruciating delays as when one character asks a vital question and someone who can’t or shouldn’t hear the answer breaks in. And we wait.
Generally, a scene grows in intensity by escalating in terms of risk or what’s at stake. I always end up shifting scenes in a story to avoid plateauing, but it’s sometimes necessary for me to stack beats so they escalate.
Most scenes begin with a hook (or an answer to a previous scene) and end with a cliffhanger (to keep the reader or audience engaged and eager for the next scene. These may modulate the energy of the scene or reach past the single scene to shape tension of the larger work. Story logic reflects the larger work as well, but the scene beats can’t violate that. One thing leads to another.
Mastery of Story Scene 3: Manage the energy of the scene.
Practice: Explore scenes in stories you love and identify the beats (power shifts). Note your emotional response to each beat. Do the beats escalate? Are they interrupted by comic relief, set pieces, or French scenes? Do the beats in the scenes you love or your favorite genre come at predictable intervals? Now see if you can find beats in a scene you’ve written and use what you’ve learned to better manage the energy.
Scenes require so much to be successful, that a good test, during revision, is seeing what parts fail to do more than one thing. Dialogue with subtext reveals the on-the-face concern while indicating the real concern inside. Exposition in dialogue is used to battle an opponent. (As Robert McKee says, exposition as ammunition.) A character handing over the map to the expedition’s leader may do so eagerly or with great reluctance.
Readers and audiences can absorb more than they’re given credit for. In addition to doing more than one thing at a time, there may be opportunities to skip moments, condense, and direct focus. Don’t strive to reflect reality as it is. Make choices. Degas said, “Art is not what you see, but what you make others see.”
Note: The more challenging the scene is for readers and audiences, the greater the likelihood of confusion. Write complex scenes with confidence anyway. Begin by trusting the audience and yourself. Clarity is king, but it’s much easier to add clarity than it is to make a scene more elegant.
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