Scenes are the building blocks of stories.
Every scene in a novel contributes to the story in some way, whether through characterization,
atmosphere, or plot progression.
In examining the anatomy of a scene, we’re going to start with the big-picture skeleton,
then dive into the essential organs, and end with the skin—the outward appearance of
the writing itself.
Although scenes can take an infinite number of forms, the underlying skeleton largely
remains the same: the character has a goal, but they encounter an obstacle, so they respond
by formulating a new plan of action or experiencing a moment of change.
This has been called the ABT formula—and, but, therefore.
Trey Parker, co-creator of South Park, has explained this technique in detail: “Every
story can be reduced to this single structure.
I can tell you the story of a little girl living on a farm in Kansas AND her life is
boring, BUT one day a tornado sweeps her away to the land of Oz, THEREFORE she must undertake
a journey to find her way home.”
That example describes the larger plot set-up, but this formula can be used on a micro scale
as well, such as in the scene where Dorothy finally meets the Wizard.
Dorothy’s goal at this point is to ask the Wizard to grant their wishes, BUT the Wizard
says that, in order to grant their wishes, they must bring him the Witch of the West’s
broomstick, THEREFORE Dorothy & Co. go off to kill the witch.
In the next scene, they travel through the Haunted Forest, BUT the witch attacks them
with winged monkeys and captures Dorothy, THEREFORE Dorothy’s friends must rescue
her.
This formula provides a series of actions and reactions—and that’s the very essence
of story.
Think of your scenes as miniature narrative arcs.
Sometimes the “THEREFORE” of a scene doesn’t involve the main character planning their
next move, but rather it indicates a change in their mindset or relationships.
For instance, at the start of a scene, a character may be excited to start their new job, BUT
then they hear that their boss is a jerk, THEREFORE the scene ends with them wondering
if they’d made a mistake in changing careers.
Another scene might involve the protagonist apologizing to their best friend, BUT they
accidentally insult their friend’s mom, THEREFORE the scene ends with the two of them
on bad terms.
Good scenes often end with the promise of future conflict, whether external or internal.
They leave the reader with a question, making them wonder what will happen next.
The short chapters in Somerset Maugham’s 1925 novel The Painted Veil show how scenes
can build upon each other.
Let’s take a brief look at the first three scenes using the formula; I’ll omit the
“AND” component for simplicity’s sake.
In scene one, the protagonist, Kitty, is in her bedroom, having an affair with her lover,
BUT someone tries to open the door—and Kitty thinks it’s her husband, THEREFORE she fears
her husband has caught her in the act.
Because of this fear, in scene two, Kitty asks her lover what they should do if her
husband confronts them, BUT her lover keeps telling her not to worry and he leaves, THEREFORE
Kitty is left alone to self-reflect.
Scene three has Kitty reflecting on her desire to be free of her husband, BUT she knows that
her lover is also married, and to a woman of high status at that, THEREFORE Kitty gets
to thinking about her own social position and how she came to marry her husband, which
is what the next scenes are about.
There’s not much outward plot progression happening, but rather Kitty’s emotions and
thoughts are what have shifted from scene to scene.
You can create these mini outlines for every scene or chapter of your novel.
In each scene, your character needs a goal, an obstacle, and a source of conflict for
the next scene.
So that’s the skeleton of a scene, the bone structure you can use as a base.
But now let’s look at the delicious insides, how different parts work together to create
a functioning system.
Like the various organs of the body, scenes can and should accomplish multiple objectives.
Author Michael Hauge said it best:
“In each successive scene, something must happen that has never happened before: a new
situation for the hero; a new secret to reveal; a new ally to join; a new enemy to confront;
a new lover to pursue; a new (even bigger) problem to solve; a new tool for solving it.
If scenes are interchangeable, or if nothing of significance changes from one scene to
the next, you’re treading water.”
Let’s take a look at a scene from Matthew Fitzsimmons best-selling thriller novel The
Short Drop.
The protagonist, legendary hacker Gibson Vaughn, is hired to investigate a missing persons case.
In Chapter 15, George Abe, the leader of the investigation, makes a surprise visit to Gibson.
Here’s how it opens:
George was waiting for him in a black M-Class Mercedes.
A long rectangular box wrapped in bright-red paper with little white unicorns on it lay
in the passenger seat.
“What’s with the box?”
Gibson asked.
“It’s not for you.”
“Well, now you’re just hurting my feelings.”
George chuckled and put the gift in the backseat and handed Gibson a sports jacket.
“Put that on.
We’ve got an appointment.”
Immediately in this scene, there’s a sense of anticipation.
The unicorn wrapping paper and the promise of an “appointment” create questions in
the reader’s mind, just as they do for the main character.
The answers to those questions are slightly delayed in order to create suspense.
We soon discover that in order for Gibson to officially join the team, he first needs
to meet and prove himself to the investigation’s benefactor, Calista.
The unicorn present is for the birthday party of Calista’s niece, a character who becomes
significant to the plot later on.
As the chapter continues, a number of objectives are accomplished:
In terms of plot, Abe updates Gibson on the status of the investigation.
In terms of character, Calista and her niece are introduced.
In terms of reveals, Gibson learns what really happened to his father.
In terms of foreshadowing, details that become important for the story’s grand reveal at
the end are provided in this scene.
The chapter ends with Calista saying this: “It was nice to see you again, Mr. Vaughn.
Good luck in Pennsylvania.”
The next step for Gibson is clearly laid out for the reader—he’s going to Pennsylvania
to continue the investigation.
To reiterate: scenes can and should accomplish multiple objectives.
When planning out a scene or chapter, you need to determine what you as a writer want
to convey to your readers.
What vital organs will give life and purpose to this scene?
How are you moving the story forward in terms of character and plot?
Then we need to go a step further.
We need to explore the “but” of a scene.
The last thing you want readers to think while they’re reading is that a scene is slow,
or boring, or pointless.
You can avoid predictability by adding obstacles.
Don’t let your character get comfortable.
To create more tension, you could add:
• A ticking time bomb • A threat of violence
• An uncomfortable setting or situation • Disagreement between characters
• Clashing goals • Unexpected arrival of another character
• Heightened stakes • Any kind of surprise
I’ll discuss each of these in more detail in a separate video.
You don’t want to add all of these obstacles into a single scene, of course—just one
additional element will do wonders.
Now we arrive at the actual construction of words on the page—the appetizing flesh that
covers your skeleton and organs.
How should a scene look, style-wise?
You can manage the pace of a scene by blending dialogue with description, action, and the
protagonist’s thoughts.
Crack open a novel, any novel, and examine two random pages.
I picked The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton,
and here’s how I dissected it: At the beginning of this scene, we have a summary
of what’s happened since the previous scene.
Then we’re back in the present moment, with some character movement.
Then there’s dialogue, and in the middle of the conversation, we have the character
doing some internal reflection, then back to dialogue, interwoven with more visuals.
Some writers use dense paragraphs of description; some writers rely heavily on dialogue.
It usually depends on what the scene requires and what the writer is trying to accomplish.
When reading, stop to think about the reasoning behind the writer’s choices, and pay attention
to how the writer transitions from internal thoughts to outward action.
Once you have your scenes in mind, you may want to turn them into chapters.
Authors have wildly different styles when it comes to chapter length.
In The Painted Veil, for example, the chapters are often less than 1,000 words and seem to
be divided based on the small moments of conflict—the mysterious visitor, a discussion between lovers,
Kitty’s reflection on her lover’s wife, and so on.
The average chapter length of a high fantasy novel, on the other hand, is 5,000 words or
more.
In longer chapters, there may be several scene breaks, so a single chapter may contain three
separate scenes.
A scene can be as long as a single sentence or fifty pages, but 750 to 2,500 words is
a good range.
Most writers use chapters to mark a setting change or time jump, even if it’s only a
small one (for example, in Chapter 1, the character plans to go to the bank, so Chapter
2 opens with them already at the bank, skipping over the whole “getting there” process).
Of course, another reason for chapter breaks is to shift to a different character’s perspective,
if you’re writing a novel with multiple points of view.
Some writers don’t use chapter breaks at all; some writers don’t even use scene breaks.
It’s all a matter of preference, but personally, I think that chapter breaks give the reader
a mental rest and help to better organize the story.
With all these body parts in mind, you can see the steps it takes to create a scene:
+ Open with a status update.
What progress (or lack thereof) has your protagonist made since the previous scene?
Where are your characters and who are they with?
+ Heighten the tension and the stakes.
(That’s the “But” in the formula.)
How can you make your character’s life harder?
+ End with a promise about the future.
(That’s the “Therefore” component.)
What conflicts will the character be facing in the next scene?
So, for a writing prompt, here’s what I’d like you to do:
Think of a scene from the middle of your story that you haven’t yet put to paper.
Write a one-paragraph summary of what you want to happen, including how the scenes ends.
Write the scene.
Don’t worry about making it publisher-ready; just write.
Wait a week.
One whole week.
Then go back and revise the scene.
Consider adding another source of tension.
What questions does this scene answer and what new ones does it create?
What else could this scene accomplish that it’s not already doing in terms of introducing
important people, places, things, backstory, or other plot elements?
In the comments, tell me what scene you’re most looking forward to creating.
Whatever you do, keep writing.