Writing a Scene Part I: What Does Every Scene Have?
Every scene has an arc; every scene you write should end in a different place than it started. You can think of any scene as three basic parts: its beginning, its middle, and its end (this sounds very duh, Shelby, but bare with me). This includes both the plot arc and the emotional arc of a scene.
Imagine your scene like a subway ride. The beginning of your scene is you on the platform, the established and clear place that you are coming from. The end of your scene is the destination, or place you want to go. The middle of your scene is the ride, basically whatever has to happen to get you from the platform to the destination.
If the beginning of your scene fully lays the foundation for what’s to come (by establishing a clearly defined starting place for your character), and you have a clear picture of where you want the character to end (physically and emotionally), then the middle will often fall into place almost by itself. If you find yourself struggling to shoehorn in plot to the middle of your scene, you may want to reevaluate where you’ve chosen to begin and end it.
I know this sounds nebulous and/or dumb. But while the beginning, middle, and end to a larger story can seem so obvious, it’s just as important to find the beginning, middle, and end on the small scale too. Every scene is a microcosm; it needs to take us somewhere new, no matter how minuscule the distance. If you’re having a hard time and feel like your scene is becoming muddled or repetitive, just refer back to your roadmap to get us where we need to go.
Every scene has a point, in that every scene needs a reason for existing, both plotwise and emotionally. Of course, the degree to which each point is being made can vary – some scenes will be more about plot, some will be more about emotion – but they should always include both.
Everything that happens or is said in a scene needs to be there for a reason. Physical elements that are showcased on screen are expected to factor into the plot; everything someone does or says should reveal or reinforce something about their character.
Audiences are smart, and they know they’re being told a story – so if you throw something up on screen that has absolutely no significance, it creates a kind of cognitive dissonance in your viewer that will take them out of the scene. (This can be its own kind of tool to wield, but even scenes that break the rules have an understanding of, and reason for breaking, said rules.)
If you find yourself repeating beats over and over in your scene, or feel that it’s one-note, try to go back and remember WHY you are writing the scene you’re writing, then find the quickest, cleanest way to express it.
Example of a Scene (aka Let’s Put All This Shit Together)
Let’s look at a short scene, then run it by our scene checklist. We’re looking for a clearly defined:
The start of the scene is Shelby, satisfied, working. The end of the scene is Shelby, sad and regretful, trying to fix something she’s broken.
The plot arc of this scene is:
Shelby’s writing something
Shelby knocks papers off her desk
Shelby reaches down for the papers
Shelby notices a birthday card from someone wedged behind her desk
Shelby tears the card and throws it in the trash
Shelby fishes out the scraps and tries to tape them back together
While the emotional arc of the same scene is:
Shelby feels GOOD doing her work
Shelby feels SHOCKED finding the card
Shelby feels ANGRY reading the card
Shelby feels REGRET after throwing the card away
The plot point of the scene would be that Shelby had someone very close to her who is no longer very close to her. The emotional point is that this past relationship makes Shelby feel upset, and – when Shelby is upset – she can be impulsive in ways she later regrets. From this short, ½ page scene, we now know more about both the relationship between Shelby and this character, as well as more about who Shelby is as a person.
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