It’s happened to everyone: you start reading a story. You find yourself liking the characters, the prose, the setting but somehow around ten or so pages in you suddenly find yourself… bored. And you can’t figure out why. You’re really inside the character’s head, with him for every thought he has as he goes about his day as a librarian. You know how he feels about cheese, literature, his mother. And still you’re bored. And so you skim ahead. You finally find some dialogue. Aha! You say. But the dialogue, insofar as you can tell, only covers his backstory—things that happened in the past. And while that backstory is interesting, it’s still unsatisfying.
Why?
Because no events are unfolding in real time.
It’s difficult to overstate the importance of real time scenes in a story. Dramatized scenes are what propel a reader through the plot. Nobody ever wonders, “what will the character be thinking about at the end of this book?” The question is, “what will happen at the end of this book?” And yet many writers shy away from writing fully dramatized scenes in favor of narrative summary or backstory. Why?
Over the years I’ve theorized as to how some writers get so real time scene-averse.
At first I thought perhaps the emotional intensity of dramatizing scenes was difficult to manage—that writing a fight scene, for example, might be upsetting due to sympathetic emotion generated by imagining oneself as the character, experiencing the fear, anger and adrenaline of being in a real battle. And I think for some people, this might be true, but it couldn’t be true of the vast majority, could it?
Then I wondered if it were a matter of inexperience. Authors, being people who mainly sit quietly in rooms typing, just hadn’t done much of anything and therefore couldn’t manage to project their imaginations outward into the minds of characters who were more proactive. But that didn’t seem quite right either.
Recently, I’ve started to think the answer might be much more simple: writing scenes is hard. Really hard. It’s so hard that rather than engage the planning and execution of a difficult scene, writers will often choose to bury the best parts of a story in narrative summary. For example, rather than writing out that big argument our librarian (let’s call him Mike) has with his mother, the author will write something like this:
Mike saw his mother’s name on the caller ID. He didn’t want to talk to her and yet he knew she’d just keep calling if he didn’t answer. With a heavy heart, he hit the talk button.
One hour and twenty-five minutes later he was spent. His ear had gone numb from listening to her talk about how she wanted just one grandchild before she died. Why couldn’t she just accept that he was gay and that as a gay man the likelihood of procreation was pretty much zero?
I don’t know about you, but I would prefer to be a fly on the wall witnessing that argument myself:
Mike saw his mother’s name on the caller ID. He didn’t want to talk to her and yet he knew she’d just keep calling if he didn’t answer. With a heavy heart, he hit the talk button.
“Hello? Mike, are you there?”
Mike winced. His mom couldn’t even wait for him to say hello before she started talking. Apparently, she had a lot to say today.
“Hi, mom.” He settled himself down on the couch and cracked a beer. He sensed he’d need it. “What’s up?”
“Well, Cecile had her baby I thought I’d call you and let you know.”
“Thanks, I’ll call Cecile and congratulate her,” Mike said. He and his cousin hadn’t been close since they were in grade school, but his mother had never stopped thinking they were still best friends.
“That makes your Aunt Elizabeth a grandma for the sixth time, you know.”
“Are you two keeping score or something?” As soon as Mike heard the flippancy of his own tone, he realized the mistake he’d made. His mother and her twin, Aunt Elizabeth had competed over anything and everything since they’d shared cradle fifty-eight years prior. He was in for an earful now.
And so on.
If I were to keep writing this scene it would go on for about two more pages, with the argument between Mike and his mom focusing on the competition between her and Aunt Elizabeth and only briefly hitting on the fact that Mike was gay and therefore unlikely to produce the grandchild that his mom so desperately needs to stay in the game. More than likely I would then have Cecile turn out to be a no-account who dumps this very same baby on Mike and disappears, making the love interest some guy who Mike goes to for help. Let’s call the love interest Leon.
But the theoretical plot is not really the point of this essay. The main thing is that whatever story I told, I would tell it in scenes. I would make it clear, by dramatizing scenes where events occur in real time, that the story is progressing forward.
Writing scenes that actually advance a story efficiently toward a climax is almost mind-bogglingly difficult for all but the most naturally gifted of storytellers.
But not all of us are lucky enough to be naturals so how can the rest of us hope to improve?
Here are some tips:
Something should occur in every scene.
Even if two characters are just having a conversation that conversation needs to advance the reader’s knowledge in at least one, preferably two or more meaningful directions. And whatever happens in the scene needs to advance the character forward in the plot as well. I don’t mean that the character should make some major personality change, but he needs to be either closer to or farther from his goal than he was when the scene started.
A writer should be able to name their scenes.
For example one should be able to say, this is the “fight with mom” scene or the “getting stuck with the baby” scene or the “Mike has to give up the baby” scene. If, after writing or reading a scene, no obvious name comes to mind it means the scene has no focus and should be sharpened toward a specific primary goal.
Once the primary goal is established, secondary goals should be considered.
Is it possible to reveal some backstory during the “fight with Mom” scene? What about the “Mike gets stuck with the baby “scene? Can we introduce a new character during either of these scenes, either in person or by reference?
Scenes should be scrutinized for repetitiveness and then possibly combined to create maximum forward motion.
Has there already been a “Mike tries to accomplish some task but is held back by having to care for the baby” scene? If so, do you really need another one? If there has already been a “Mike realizes that he really loves this baby” scene, is a second scene establishing this same fact necessary? Or should it be converted to a “Mike decides that he will fight to keep this baby” scene. Better still, could these two scenes be combined into a “Mike realizes that he loves and therefore will fight to keep this baby” scene?
So lets go farther into this theoretical plot. Let’s say that Mike discovers that his cousin has ditched the baby with him because she is in fact running for her life. The baby’s father is a complete psycho, bent on killing both Cecile and her daughter, Tessa. Once the psycho is dispatched (with the crucial intervention of Mike and/or Leon of course) Mike will have to return his cousin Cecile’s baby, who he has come to love—easily the most emotional scene in the book.
Any discussion of scenes naturally leads to a discussion of point of view. Let’s say that this story is actually told from two points of view: Mike’s and Leon’s. The author might be tempted to, when writing the “Mike has to give up the baby” scene, choose to tell the scene from Leon’s POV. Why? Well, Leon’s POV is easier to write isn’t it? He can describe Mike’s reactions sympathetically in his role as observer. But choosing Leon as the POV in a scene where Mike’s heart is breaking, is a real mistake, in terms of sustaining the drama of the story.
Here’s a snippet from Leon’s observer POV:
Mike’s hands were trembling. Leon could see that even from the kitchen. As Mike handed the child to Camille, Leon saw him falter, then recover, force a brave smile and relinquish Tessa to her mother.
And here we see the same action through Mike’s eyes:
It should have been easy to let go of Tessa. Hadn’t that been his sole objective for the last seven days? But as Mike extended his hands he found them trembling. A tenderness akin to pain knifed through his chest. What would happen to Tessa now? How could he keep protecting her once Camille walked out that door?
No, he couldn’t do it. It would break his heart to relinquish Tessa now, after all he’d been through. And yet he had to. This was not his daughter. He had been trusted with her care, but she was not his. She belonged with Cecile.
Unshed tears pricked behind his eyes, but he forced himself to smile as he let Tessa go.
How much harder was that scene to write from Mike’s POV? A lot. But I think most readers would concur that his is definitely the more interesting point of view for this particular scene.
I’m sure that I haven’t covered even a tenth of the secrets of what makes a great scene, but I’d love to hear from readers. What are some things that make or break a scene for you? And writers: have you got any tricks up your sleeve that you’d like to share?
Oh my goodness – so very true. Nothing happens in the story in real time is definitely one of the reasons I get bored and fast. I do not mind character’s introspection at all, but when all character does is talking to himself in his head it is getting tiresome for me and fast. Thank you for this post.
You’re welcome!
Great article Nicole. I find it much easier to write dialog and often fear what I write is too dialog heavy at times. I think I’m too afraid it will be boring otherwise because I hate reading as someone sits there and navel gazes and thinks about life/past for 3 days. DO SOMETHING!!! But if the dialog is too much, I worry it will be boring and people will be screaming for them to just shut up and DO SOMETHING!!! 😕
I liked your idea of naming scenes and if you can’t, maybe it needs to be fixed in some ways. I’ll definitely keep that in mind, especially when I seem to be stalling.
Hi Tam,
Well, you’re right to be suspicious of the urge to write any sort of scene just because it’s easy.
A good way to tell when characters need to take action might be if during the dialogue the characters keep talking about the possibility of doing something or planning something that they might to do later.
Then they should probably just go ahead and do it!
Great post, Nicole. I find using Scrivener software to write with really helps me to think in scenes – they all get labelled and have a little summary, making me focus on what actually happens in them.
I do know I cop out of writing difficult conversations in the first draft, sometimes. Luckily my betas hit me with a stick until I write the damn things 😉
Hi Josephine,
We all try to squirm out of writing hard scenes, I think. The trick is to eventually realize that you’re squirming out, rather than convincing yourself that the squirminating is some sort of valid, high-flying artistic choice. I once tried to weasel out of writing the entire climactic scene of a novella just because I didn’t want to figure out the blocking for a scene with hundreds of people.
As you said, it’s why we have writer’s groups–to tell us when we’re just being lazy. 🙂
Interesting article. For both reader and writer.
I never gave much thought to what it is that ruins a scene for me. I admit to sometimes finding the story I’m reading isn’t working but I’m unable to put my finger on exactly why that is.
I do know that for me the “wrong” POV can ruin a scene. Which is why I tend to prefer 3rd instead of 1st person story telling. (Unless it’s multiple POV, for some reason I don’t have a problem with that.) While there are 1st person stories I love, in plenty of cases I find myself thinking I’d like to know what the other person is feeling/thinking during a particular scene.
Also, when it comes to mystery/suspense, and fantasy works it’s the little things like the author not keeping track of established clues, rules or just the world building can ruin a scene for me. And then we have a character being in two or three places at the same time, or things that were supposed to be impossible are suddenly happening.
And in the romance (or even erotica) having a sex scene come out of nowhere is a no-no in my book. I mean come on, the bad guys are after you, you’re running for your lives, there are important things/secrets about your pasts/abilities you have to share and I’m dying to find them out, but no. First you have to have sex. And lots of it. In various places and positions. While the plot is stagnating for pages on end.
For me as an editor, sex scenes that come out of nowhere are generally an indicator that an author doesn’t know where to go with their characters, so rather than giving them some strong goals or motivation the author will put them into a kind of sex limbo where pages go by but the plot doesn’t progress. Very dull indeed.
Just for the record, I call this sort of tactic the Extended Car Chase because it serves the same purpose that an extensive and ultimately fruitless car chase does in film. Takes up minutes with something that seems exciting, but ultimately does not push the plot forward.
May I just say that I love “The extended Car Chase” name and may I please borrow it sometimes? Sooo spot on 🙂
Go right ahead. 🙂
Thank you for spelling out why I find some books/scenes boring. I never could put my finger on it, but this is exactly what it is. I get frustrated sometimes being “left out” of a pivotal conversation or scene. I’ve come across books where we’re in a character’s head so much, it felt like I was reading a memoir instead of a novel.
I find it funny that during my morning commute today I finished reading a book which left me out of what was supposed to be one the most pivotal scenes in the story. In the nut shell and avoiding spoilers it went something like this – good guys come up with this elaborate plan to fight the bad guys. They worry whether the plan will suceed or not, but when they approach bad guys’ place, boom chapter stops and in the next chapter a *week* passed already and we hear various retellings of what occurred. Needless to say I was really frustrated.
Yes, the classic, “break the chapter then tell the climactic scene as backstory because writing the action is too hard.” It’s a common, tragic flaw.
Hey Daanquai,
Yes, that feeling of being left out can be really frustrating, I think fundamentally on the “we are all social animals” level we want to be right in the action–a participant, even if only vicariously.
Spot on Nicole! As a reader, narrated stories/scenes drive me bugnuts :dead: I don’t want the author to ‘tell’ me about the story, I want to be IN the story.
Excellent article.
Thank you very much!
I second everything Eva just said. 😀
The more I read, the more I prefer both main characters to have a third-person viewpoint so I have an insight on their feelings.
I get totally impatient when characters don’t ask the obvious, immediate questions (e.g., they have sex first) and it feels like a contrived way to delay giving information to the reader/audience. I get even more impatient when it happens in tv or movies. The X-Files used to drive me crazy over this. 🙂
Great article, Nicole! Thank you for this.
The more I read, the more I prefer both main characters to have a third-person viewpoint so I have an insight on their feelings.
You know this is an interesting comment. A good writer should be able to make a reader aware of a non-POV character’s feelings clear without actually having to write their POV. (Think Jake in Josh Lanyon’s Adrien English Series.)
But this comment gets me thinking…
Recently I’ve been seeing a lot of MS that have 4, 5, 7 or even, in one MS, a whopping 12 POVs and I’ve been wondering why authors think this is a good idea, because it isn’t, because each POV character needs to have a substantial developmental arc and most new writers don’t make plots complex enough to sustain even 2 POVs let alone 12.
Your comment completely cleared this zillion POV trend up for me–the authors who seem addicted to switching POV want to show several character’s emotional states, but aren’t skilled enough writers to pull this off while using only one POV.
The more I read, the more I prefer both main characters to have a third-person viewpoint so I have an insight on their feelings.
I am actually goin in more the opposite direction. If done well, a 1st POV narrative is really exciting because then the other MC’s are like mysteries that you’re trying to figure out. Jake in AE is such a person. Amber Greens 2 latest novels (Turncoat and Kybher Run) are also excellent examples of this, two VERY different first person POV’s, but so exciting trying to figure out how other people see them and how the other characters really are…
I remember Trinity Pass being in 1st POV too? I know I tried to figure out the motive of the lawyer guy.
Thank you for this (the entire post, but also this particular comment). POV is one of my personal pet peeves. The complaint, “I wish the author had written the other character’s POV” is one that drives me crazy. To me it suggests either that the story required showing multiple characters’ emotional states in order to succeed but the author was unable to do this while limiting herself to a single POV, or that the reader simply wants a story in which she knows all the answers to all the questions from the very beginning.
And the idea held by many readers and writers of this genre that multiple POVs are required in order to convey each character’s thoughts/feelings/emotional states is another that drives me crazy. I’ve seen authors justify their random or frequent POV-switching on these grounds, but usually those who do this seem to be the ones who aren’t adept at conveying emotional states through their writing in any event (as opposed to “telling” me those states outright, clumsily and through what amounts essentially to narration). Piling on the POVs doesn’t magically endow them with this ability – a good author (see, e.g., Josh and Jake) can tell me more about more characters’ emotional states using a single first person POV than such an author could with twenty.
Plus, it seems to me that a well planned story shouldn’t require us to know every character’s every thought and feeling. Too often, doesn’t that just serves to eliminate much of the tension and conflict, leaving a book that might be pleasant enough, but is still unsatisfying – like the type you describe in the beginning of your post? And sometimes it’s nice to get to know one character really, really well, instead of lots of characters superficially (because, as you say, each of those twelve POV characters isn’t going to have his own arc).
Anyway – POV aside, I absolutely love this post and have bookmarked it for future re-reading (not for my own writing, since I’m not an author, but for personal interest and for amateur beta/editing efforts). I am one reader who wishes that more authors – and editors!! – would read it and take it to heart, since I think it is almost always a fundamental of good (fiction? genre?) writing – though I think some readers, and writers, truly don’t see it that way or see it as a writing shortcoming, but instead view it simply as a stylistic difference.
it seems to me that a well planned story shouldn’t require us to know every character’s every thought and feeling. Too often, doesn’t that just serves to eliminate much of the tension and conflict, leaving a book that might be pleasant enough, but is still unsatisfying
In a word, Justacat, yes. Tension can only be built if there are questions about what will happen. Romantic tension especially, relies on characters not being exactly certain about the other character’s feelings, plans or intentions.
But I would like to stress that I am not inherently against multiple POVs. I’ve written a book with 3 POVs (Ghost Star Night). But since each POV character needs to have his own character arc and climax for a book to seem satisfying, every time you add a POV the complexity of the story has to increase by another whole dimension.
In addition to that, the weight of each POV characters throughline has to be equal. So, to use our librarian, Mike, if he essentially saves Baby Tessa, the other POV character, Mike’s boyfriend Leon, must do something equally difficult and important. He might be the one to subdue Baby Tessa’s crazy dad, for example.
And Leon’s motivation to subdue Baby Tessa’s crazy dad has to come from inside his own history without relation to Mike, which would require the revelation of Leon’s own personal history, wherein his own crazy dad committed some atrocity.
When it comes time to give up the baby, Leon might also be reluctant to give her back to her mom, but if Leon feels this way it will be for reasons of his own that are substantially different from Mike’s.
From Leon’s POV, during the “Must give up the baby” scene:
One thing Leon knew from personal experience, that a woman who makes that bad a choice for her baby daddy will probably go on and make the same damn mistake again.
And again.
And again.
Sure, she was traumatized now, but a couple months from now, who knew what deadbeat dogs Cecile would be dragging home? He’d be keeping an eye on Cecile.
So this dual POV setup must serve some purpose beyond just letting us know various characters feel about the events in the story firsthand. Each POV character must have their on narrative that interlocks with every other POV character.
That’s why when I receive MS submissions the first thing I do is go through and count how many POVs I can find in the first 20 pages or so. It gives a really good indicator of an author’s skill level.
I was about to write how much I hate multiple POVs and agree that it makes me dizzy when I am reading a book with 12 POV and yes, I have read one book with about this number of POV and another one with maybe ten. Both books gave me a headache after I was finished with them and left me very not eager to try anything else written by those authors. However, however after I thought about it, I realized that truly gifted writer can pull of any number of POV, really. “War and peace” by Tolstoy has A LOT of POVs. And every time I bring this book up I feel a need to apologize, I do not bring it up to drop big names, but because this one is truly one of my favorite books in the world. Having said that, this is a true epic and as you said, every character who has a POV brings something to the table, has a pretty developed emotional arc. I really really do not think that novellas or even novels in the mm genre has a page length to maintain anything more than two POVs. Also I agree that talented writer can show me the emotional state of other guy even if there is only one POV. Josh’s Andrien and Jake were mentioned, some other examples which come to mind are Vic and Jacob from Psycop, I could be wrong, but I do not believe we are ever in Jacob’s head throughout the series? Although I have not read sixth book yet, so maybe I should say with the exception of sixth book. I feel that I know Jacob *without* ever being in his head and I was totally fine with it. Who else? I do not think that in the “Note in the margin” by Isabelle Rowan we are ever in John’s head? And again I felt as if I knew him very well.
So, I suppose what I am trying to say that I am agreeing with you Nicole, just that there are some exceptions, which only confirm the rule, since War and peace is such a long book.
In ‘The only gold” by Tamara Allen we are never in Reid’s head, and even though it is done because whatever in his head could not be revealed earlier than certain plot point, I still felt that I knew his emotional state very well, if not the facts that he was hiding.
So, I suppose what I am trying to say that I am agreeing with you Nicole, just that there are some exceptions, which only confirm the rule, since War and peace is such a long book.
Well, yeah. It has to be because there are more than 150 named characters and many, many of them are well-developed POV characters. But that is truly a masterwork that took (ahem) way longer than a couple of months to knock out, you know? 😉
Like I said, it’s not that merely using more than one POV is a bad idea, but I do think that a novel’s got to have a LOT of plot to make it worthwhile. (W&P definitely qualifies in the “a lot of plot” category.)
Definitely took more than a couple of months to write and definitely qualifies for “a lot of plot”, I agree 🙂
Really insightful article, Nicole.
I think you’re very right that the hardest scenes to write are often the most important–maybe it’s their very importance that makes them so intimidating to us authors.
You mean, like there’s an element of stage fright? Fear of wrecking the pivotal scene that leads to avoiding writing it?
You tread into deep psychological waters, Ginn. 🙂
But I think there’s an element of truth to that. It’s really possible to psyche yourself out, avoid writing a hard scene and then invent an explanation for why avoiding writing the scene is actually the better/more artistic/innovative decision.
Part of the fun in reading for me comes from trying to figure out the characters through the on page details.
In RL, I get to know people by listening to what they say, watching what they do. I employ the same logic when I read. I rely on, and trust, the author to point out the important clues. I love to ponder the details to figure out what they say about the character/situation. 💡 It really takes away my enjoyment when the narrator repeats the obvious or when there are no clues, only narration. 😥
It’s my form of a mystery, but the goal is getting to know these characters and their world. The Humor and car chases are fun too of course! :yes:
Hey Reggie!
I am absolutely not against humor… or really even car chases, although nowadays a car chase really has to be good for me to not choose that moment to leave the theater to buy more popcorn. 🙂
What an excellent post.
“Nobody ever wonders, “what will the character be thinking about at the end of this book?””
That made me laugh out loud.
Hey, thanks man. I tried hard! (Speaking of things that are difficult to write–making up a whole new fake book to write examples from every time I do write a guest blog is kinda… well, time-consuming, but I can’t think of any other way to do it. 🙂 )
Nic
This is, as everyone said, a great article. We all learned why some books/characters don’t resonate, and it’s because the authors cop out on pivotal scenes.
Don’t you dare give us that excuse as to why you can’t write the next post …. 😆
I wasn’t! I was just thinking that I should just make up one iconic “example fake book” that I kept adding onto.
That’s a great idea Nic. A book of fake stories – then you can publish them at some point in the future. 😎
Nicole, a very wise editor/writer once told me that I should write a facsimile of the scene/novel I want to write. I’ve been trying to do that since, and one of the many things it’s helped me with is writing those scenes I don’t wanna write ’cause it’s too haaaaard. If I just write the facsimile, I’m not writing the actual scene, right? I’m writing the directions for writing the scene (or something like that). Then later when I go back I realize I wrote the scene. I may have to flesh it out, but I wrote the damn thing.
(FYI, Nicole is the one who said I should write the facsimile of what I want to write. Freaking brilliant).
Hey Anne,
Ah, if only that insight was actually mine. As I said before, I heard it from an author at Clarion and I cannot for the life of me remember who.
I should probably stop attributing that to you, shouldn’t I? It’s easier to say I heard it from you than to say, “Nicole Kimberling heard it from an author at Clarion, but she can’t remember who.”
Thank you for the post, BTW, it was inspiring, and I needed that.
Hey no problem. I love to encourage authors.
I remember loving the first book in Stephen Kings the Dark Tower (except that the kid died) but being totally bored by the sequels because they were mostly written in flashbacks. Pages after pages with flashbacks. Ughhhhh.
I generally skim whenever a book is too descriptive. I love dialogue and I like authors that can help me create a strong inner picture of the world of the story without endless descriptions and explanations.
Untight stories (rambling) also bores me and I really appreiate authors that start a book by just throwing you right in the middle of things.
I really appreiate authors that start a book by just throwing you right in the middle of things.
First scenes, or hooks as they are sometimes called are a special sort of scene all in themselves. In terms of degree of difficulty they’re definitely Olympic-qualifying…if writing were somehow ever to become an Olympic sport. 😀
Thank you, Nicole, for the insightful post! It cleared up some questionmarks for me. 💡
I didn’t use to wonder why I liked this book but not that. Since I started reading m/m, though, the question came up again and again. Maybe it’s because the good, not-so-good and excellent books live so close together on my virtual shelf and I read so many more of them in the same time than I used to with other genres that comparing them becomes unavoidable. You mentioned points that explain a lot in this regard.
Nicole said: “Recently I’ve been seeing a lot of MS that have 4, 5, 7 or even, in one MS, a whopping 12 POVs and I’ve been wondering why authors think this is a good idea, because it isn’t, because each POV character needs to have a substantial developmental arc and most new writers don’t make plots complex enough to sustain even 2 POVs let alone 12.”
I wonder if this using different POVs is typical for m/m. I didn’t notice it in this amount anywhere else. And maybe I only noticed it because I prefer to read a book with one POV, regardless wich one. The hopping from one MC’s head to the next, often even within the same chapter, makes my head spin and doesn’t increase my reading experience.
I didn’t use to wonder why I liked this book but not that. Since I started reading m/m, though, the question came up again and again. Maybe it’s because the good, not-so-good and excellent books live so close together on my virtual shelf
Hey there Calathea. I think you’ve got it spot on. I would also suggest its because the setups for so many books are so similar that comparison is easy. If you’ve got one romance story (We’ll call it LONE STAR LOVE) that’s got a guy who owns a ranch paired with a Texas ranger and another romance story (Let’s call this one LONE STAR FIRE) that’s got a guy who owns a ranch paired with the local deputy you’re bound to compare them. And if you love one and hate the other you’re bound to wonder by what criteria you are unconsciously judging the merits of each book.
Thank you for an excellent post, Nicole. I’ve read a few books that have been just like that — well written, engaging characters, but nothing “really” happens.
In addition to making sure something happens in every scene, what do you think about scenes that ebb and flow as they build to the big moment? Kind of like riding a roller coaster. I realize you wouldn’t be able to do that too much before the reader starts to feel exhausted, but a couple spikes and dips leading to the main event. Each spike a little higher and each dip a little less deep. So its still building, but with little gaps to catch your breath as you go. And maybe as they build the dips become shorter so the “speed” of the story feels like its gaining momentum.
Huh. I think I just answered myself. 🙄
Its like those stories that get so intense you can’t put them down and you start feeling frantic to finish and worried how its all going to come together in the end and you write run on sentences without taking a breath because it got away from you and you can’t stop. *sucking in air like a vacuum*
😀
Hey LC,
It’s good to know I’m not the only writer who for some damn reason holds their breath while writing. 😀
So, on to your rollercoaster:
I think what you’re partially talking about here is pacing–a whole other topic in itself. Pacing has to match the plot first. If you don’t have a rollercoaster plot having a rollercoaster pace will just seem weird, you know?
In regard to pacing within scenes: generally it is best to shape the pace around the scene’s function. For example, we might have the “exhausted by trying to spend a day as a working mom, Mike falls asleep with the baby, only to be discovered by Leon who also just climbs into bed beside them goes to sleep” scene. This would be a pretty even scene, maybe even slow and dreamy, with languid, smooth sentences that elongate time.
This would be really different than the pace of the “Leon jumps Baby Tessa’s dad outside the Shangri La Motel” scene, which would be tense, sharp, punchy sentences full of visceral reaction and verbs.
Is that sort of what you mean?
Yes. Basically. It would be pacing then – you have something happening in one scene that slows down a little, then the next scene kicks it up a bit. Both your examples are exactly it. Thank you! I guess I wonder how often you can do that without losing your reader. But then, that would depend on the type of story too.
It really does depend on the type of story. I myself am passably good at pacing but not exceptional. One of the authors I work with, Astrid Amara, is REALLY good at pacing on both the novel and the scene level. She’s got a natural talent for it. If you haven’t read any of Astrid’s stuff I’d suggest trying it out and looking at how she arranges her scenes.
For fantasy, I’d suggest The Archer’s Heart and for contemporary, Carol of the Bellskis or Love Ahead, Expect Delays.
(Or maybe we could convince Wave could get Astrid to guest blog about pacing and then you could ask her questions about it then.)
Oh yes! Wave, get Astrid on for a guest post! 🙂
I have read a few of Astrid’s books. The ones you mentioned except for The Archer’s Heart, as well as Half Pass. I do remember getting all caught up in them, but I’ll have to do some re-reads and pay attention to her craft.
Thanks again, Nicole. 🙂
That’s a great idea Nicole. I’ll write Astrid and see what she says. 🙂
Heh, nobody seems to have mentioned this, so maybe I’m alone here…but I kind of want to ready the story you used as an example. 🙂
I agree with the general sentiment here, that authors tend to “cheat” through scenes to get through a story…whether it’s because they feel a need to get published and get their paycheck, just plain laziness, they’re uncomfortable with writing the “hard” stuff, or some other reason that hasn’t been mentioned…I have no idea. It’s just sometimes frustrating.
The POV issue is one that often frustrates me. I’m one of those people where it really depends on the story. Some stories really need to be told from multiple POVs, and some are best told from one or two, max. Dramatic tension can easily be built from a single POV, since you as a reader (and the POV character) are flying semi-blind…you don’t know what’s going on with the other character(s), in their heads or sometimes otherwise. Think, for instance, of an accident; if you’re with a character who is stressing about whether his boyfriend is okay, unsure of whether he was even in the accident or, if he was, if he’s alive. That kind of tension can go on for pages, and with the added stress of being a gay relationship, the inability to get information can also heighten the stress.
POV issues arise for me more when they’re handled sloppily. Authors sometimes jump with little finesse between POVs, and with no apparent reason to the reader except for “it was easier to tell the story from character X’s POV”. I also loathe POV switches where we keep going back in time and reliving scenes. It’s rare that I’ve seen this done well, and usually just makes me want to throw the book against the wall…or in the trash (digital or otherwise).
I think some of the problem is not proper planning. I know some authors like to write with little to no planning, but to me that’s a train wreck. POV, in particular, is something that needs to be planned out in advance, and a scene should be looked at from every possible angle to determine who has the most interesting POV, with the most story to tell the reader…or maybe, in the case of dramatic tension, the best way to hide crucial elements from the reader.
Hey Brett,
I hit the wrong box to reply in the normal way, but did reply on comment #16.
Thanks for your thoughtful response, Brett!
Heh, nobody seems to have mentioned this, so maybe I’m alone here…but I kind of want to ready the story you used as an example.
Thanks you. It does seem to have a lot of dramatic potential doesn’t it? Maybe if I get into doing more contemporary stuff I’ll revisit it.
Think, for instance, of an accident; if you’re with a character who is stressing about whether his boyfriend is okay, unsure of whether he was even in the accident or, if he was, if he’s alive. That kind of tension can go on for pages, and with the added stress of being a gay relationship, the inability to get information can also heighten the stress.
Good example.
I also loathe POV switches where we keep going back in time and reliving scenes. It’s rare that I’ve seen this done well
The only example I can think of where going back in time and reliving scenes is warranted is in actual time travel stories. But they are almost always from a singular POV.
I think some of the problem is not proper planning. I know some authors like to write with little to no planning, but to me that’s a train wreck…a scene should be looked at from every possible angle to determine who has the most interesting POV.
I suggest that there are actually 2 ways to go about it, planning in advance or editing after the fact. Editing after the fact usually requires rewriting some scenes, so it can be more time consuming than extensive advance planning, but can achieve the same goals.
Great article Nicole. This is really making me rethink a scene I’m currently working on. I appreciate it! 😀
Happy to be of service!
As someone who only writes dialogue (playwright speaking here), I can tell you that I often LONG for the opportunity to write prose=:) While my profession is admittedly different from novel writing I can tell you that it is extremely difficult to move along the plot through dialogue and keep the whole thing interesting and something people will not only sit through and watch but later actually buy to read. After roughly 180 pages of dialogue the desire to simply write
…And after much discussion with Lana, Matt packed his bags and walked off into the night…once again lost and adrift with nothing and no one but himself to love…(sigh)
But no, I have to script the damn fight scene and eventual break up as well.
As a reader, I am often drawn to well written prose but must admit that I find myself often holding my breath for the next bit of dialogue. So, in turn, I must thank those authors who do take the time (and agony) to write out those scenes that they’d rather leave on the cutting room floor.
It is hard–but oh so worth it to your readers!
Hi Sammy
I used to write plays when I was younger, so I kinda know what you’re talking about–though on a much more amateur level. Its so hard to write in a form that pretty much precludes internal monologue.
Though I’ve just had a thought: if an author is having a hard time breaking out of the quagmire of thinky-ness, try writing the scene as a script where there’s nothing but action and spoken words.
What do you think?
My first editor’s advice was: “write more dialog!” (And more sex, but that’s another matter.) Fortunately, I discovered I enjoy doing it. Dialog is great to show character without going into lengthy description. It’s like those movies that have a lot of talking – Glengarry Glen Ross, classic screwball comedies, etc.
Action scenes are hard to write for multiple reasons. First of all you have to choreograph it, work out who’s doing exactly what the whole time – the more participants, the more complicated it gets. Then you not only have to describe it all, but has to do it in a snappy style that’s in sync with the action. No slowing down, getting boggled down in details. In the movies a couple of minutes of action can take days to set up.
Thanks for writing in Lou.
I concur. Action scenes are the hardest to write. And the most disappointing to skip.
Just curious, do you ever use anything like little green army men to block action scenes? I find it kinda works in terms of assisting with visualization through your POV character’s eyes.
Just as a side note: the one thing I see in action scenes time and time again is authors describing action as though there were a camera filming the POV character, rather than as though the camera was inside the POV character’s eyes. The beauty of the little green army man is that he’s got a face that you can point in the direction he’s supposed to be looking and be like, “Oh, okay, I guess Mike wouldn’t see the stairs now because they are behind him, so Baby Tessa’s crazy dad could certainly come creepin’ up behind him.”