After the Slug Line
How to Maximize Engagement With Your Scenes
You spent weeks planning your first draft. Now, you’re ready to dive into it. You approach the task with great confidence, and after months of effort, you share your story. But as soon as you get that feedback, your entire bubble bursts. It isn’t well-received, and you feel utterly defeated. How could this be when you spent so much time and effort on it? What happened?
It’s likely due to several factors, the main one being a lack of practice. Maybe you had the right idea, plot, and characters, but the execution on the page was poor because you’ve never written scenes before. And not knowing how to write them is like a brain surgeon not understanding how to cut a skull open. It’s the foundation—without it, the rest of your story falls apart. So, how do you write a scene that’s effective for telling a story? What steps should we take, and what should we consider?
Well…These are all excellent questions. Let’s break down how to create a scene from start to finish. By the end, your next draft will hopefully be better. Maybe not perfect, but you know…Baby steps!
Before we dive in, check out the Anatomy of Script Formatting to understand this article better. But if you already know how to format a script, well. I guess you're ready to rock!
Beginning, Middle, and End
The first thing to know when constructing a scene is that it’s typically broken up into three parts: beginning, middle, and end—often aligned with setting/setup, conflict, and resolution. Think of each scene as a mini-plot. There is an establishment that sets everything up, a conflict that occurs, and a resolution—or lack thereof. Here’s a good example from the hilarious comedy Due Date.
We have a beginning, which shows the two characters at a Western Union trying to withdraw money that was wired to them. Then there’s the middle or the conflict, where it’s revealed that the name on the transfer doesn’t match either of their names. As they complain, the conflict rises when the clerk informs them that he’s about to close. This leads to an argument, which spirals into an unexpected altercation. The situation is resolved when the clerk, who turns out to be a disabled vet, kicks their asses. Beginning, middle, and end.
Notice the cause-and-effect relationship at play here: They go to a Western Union to withdraw money, but have the wrong name. This causes a conflict. The effect becomes a fight that ends with them getting beaten up. So, the setup leads to a conflict, which drives the outcome or resolution. Of course, you can have tons of smaller causes and effects within the structure of your scene, and in some cases, you don’t even need them at all.
None of this is formulaic, of course. Writers slice and dice their scenes in millions of different ways. Some have a clear beginning and end. Others start strong but never quite resolve. Some jump right into the middle of the action and circle back to their origins. The variations are endless. Ultimately, though, most scenes include some form of a beginning, middle, and end—often with cause-and-effect elements to keep the story moving.
That’s the basic flow structure of a scene. But once you’ve established that, how do you build a sense of tempo within the scene?
Rising and Falling Tension
Ever notice that when you listen to a song, it starts simple and grows in complexity? Or sometimes it begins with complexity and gradually shifts to simplicity? Maybe a song begins with a single voice before incorporating additional instruments. Or perhaps it will open explosively and use all the instruments before dropping to a single voice, only to rise back in complexity later on.
I don’t know what they call it in music. Maybe progression? But in writing, this is known as rising and falling tension. It helps define the tempo of our scenes and how they build—something that, when done well, can make your story much more compelling.
Let’s look at a clear example of rising tension in the famous apartment scene from Pulp Fiction. If you notice, at the beginning, everything is pretty calm, right? Jules and Vincent enter a room where three men are eating lunch. Jules begins a casual conversation with them, acting very kind and cheery. As viewers, we feel relaxed at first, but the terrified expressions on the men’s faces quickly undercut that calm. So we also get a sense that we should be afraid, but we don’t exactly know why we should be.
That is, until the moment plays out and we realize that Jules and Vincent work for a very powerful man whom these guys stole from, and Jules and Vincent are here to collect it. What makes this scene so interesting, though, is its slow build in suspense. They didn’t just burst through the door and threaten them with guns. They were invited in and conversed with the thieves before slowly turning violent on them.
As the whole thing unfolds, you see this rise and fall in the tension. Everything starts out fine. Then things get a little tense and gradually intensify. Just as the tension peaks, it suddenly drops—only to spike again at the very last second when a fourth guy in the room comes out from hiding and shoots at both Vincent and Jules.
This is what rising and falling tension is. It’s creating actions in your scenes that lead to a rise or fall in the intensity of the conflict. This doesn’t mean that every scene needs to start calm and rise in intensity. You can start with a bang and keep it tense the entire time, drop it off to something calmer at the end, oscillate between the two throughout the whole scene, or just keep it calm and cool the whole way through. There’s no single right way to set up a scene.
So have fun with it! Intensify a scary moment with flattened tension that shoots up at an unexpected moment. Or maybe start with high tension and flatten it at an unexpected moment before raising the tension once more. Play the scene like a musical instrument to match the tempo you want. Do this, and it will come out way more interesting.
Show, Don’t Tell
Controlling the structure and tempo of our scenes is one thing, but what about the information in the action lines? What belongs in them—and what doesn’t? You’re writing for both the audience and the crew creating the visuals. This means show, don’t tell. Now, what the hell does that cliché-sounding phrase mean?
A common mistake made by first-time writers is explaining what’s happening instead of what we’re seeing. That is, writing action lines that explain instead of visually conveying the story.
Say someone’s shopping just before closing. If you simply write, “He scans the aisles knowing they’re about to close,” how do we know that? The line tells us his mindset, but it doesn’t show us anything visually.
As readers, we know because you’re telling us, but as viewers, we won’t know—unless the filmmakers show it somehow, like someone vacuuming, making an announcement, or collecting the registers. So, as a writer, you want to describe these details instead of just explaining that the store is about to close. Eventually, A team will bring your script to life. But if these visual moments aren’t written in, the crew will have to work harder to fill the gaps.
An experienced film director and crew might notice missing visual cues that are critical for story clarity or scene setup. But even experienced teams can miss them. If that happens, you're looking at a stressful moment on set. The crew has to think on their feet and improvise how to communicate that the store is closing.
It’s frustrating, but if you plan on writing scripts, avoid explaining and focus on describing what the viewer sees. This makes it easier to bring the story to life on screen. It also reduces reliance on dialogue. Film tells its story through environment, action, and dialogue. Use all three thoughtfully to create a visually compelling and well-paced story.
The Right Amount of Description
Now, how much description is too much—or too little? Well, that’s where it can be a little tricky. I consider what each crew member needs to know to do their job. You don’t have to include all these details, but covering the basics makes communication with production easier. Specifically, I like to add in:
General description of the space using keywords to suggest overall aesthetics and tone (e.g., a dark, cluttered room; a bright and empty office, etc.)
Where people are within that space and where they go
How people look and are dressed (e.g., disheveled with messy hair, well-groomed with a nice suit, etc.).
Key story objects (e.g., a family photo, a dusty guitar in the background, a knife on the counter, etc.).
The key is to present everything in the order we see it, using as few words as possible. What words should be used? Use present-tense words, of course, but ones that imply mood, timing, or character intention.
You don’t have to state every intimate detail when describing something like a messy room, but if you say a dark, messy room with dirty clothes and half-eaten junk food strewn all about, that can give someone like your set designer and DP plenty from which to infer. So you need to describe just enough for your film crew to fill in the rest.
But keep in mind, this isn’t fundamental when writing a scene. A lot of great writers are vague in their descriptions because, most of the time, the responsibility is handed over to a production company and director who add in those details. But it makes your script look more professional and their jobs much easier.
Deciding How to Break Up Your Action Lines
Let’s talk about how to break up your action lines more effectively. Most scripts break their lines into chunks. This is called "utilizing white space.”
White space is the space between your action lines. But it’s more than that—it represents visual breaks or cuts between shots. So, your action lines represent the shots, and your white space represents the cuts between them. It isn’t exactly 1:1, though. An action line might contain several sentences, which could represent one or multiple shots. Ultimately, it depends on how the director and cinematographer choose to shoot the scene.
But typically, you want to try and aim for one or two action lines per shot. When describing what is happening in the shots, it’s okay to use technical direction. However, using too much of it can diminish the flow. Saying things like “ANGLE ON” every time we start a new action line is unnecessary. But perhaps you want to express the “Hero Shot”, or you really want the scene to start with a close-up of something.
It’s fine to include those words if the shot serves the story. So, if there’s a strong reason to describe a shot, particularly one that isn’t so obvious on the page, then it’s appropriate to include them. Just make sure to use the correct terminology and only include those descriptions when it makes sense.
Bad Time for Dialogue
Alright, now let’s get into dialogue, which is essential to a scene. But when should it be used—or more importantly, when should it not be? Most of the time, it’s fairly straightforward to know when dialogue is appropriate. But it isn’t so easy to know when it should be withheld.
One way to decide is to write the dialogue as you think it should be. Then, when reviewing, ask yourself, “Does this need to be spoken?” A common mistake made by new writers is assuming the audience won’t fully understand unless it’s stated, which is why they’ll spell it out in the dialogue, or worse, they’ll repeat the information multiple times throughout the scene. It’s okay. People will understand what you’re saying if your action lines and subtext are clear.
So, let's go back to the person shopping at a grocery store and show a tired person who has just finished a long shift. If you were to lean on dialogue and have the character say, “Man, I’m so tired from work today,” it would come off awkwardly. First, this person is shopping alone, so who is he talking to? Second, if we see in the action lines that he has bags under his eyes, walks wearily, has messy hair, and wears a uniform from another store—visual cues that show he’s shopping late at night, we can infer that he works at another store and just got off from a long shift.
When writing scenes with dialogue, always ask if it needs to be said. Often, you can use the environment, character behavior, and appearance to convey the same information. If it does need to be said, just make sure you say it once, succinctly and as naturally as possible. Less is not better. It is your king.
Scenes That Matter/Don’t Matter
We’re in the final stretch! We structured our scenes with a clear arc, built tension, showed rather than told, kept descriptions tight, used white space effectively, and cut unnecessary dialogue. Now, we must determine if the scene should even stay.
Yeah, this part might suck because you spent so much time and energy developing each moment. The idea of simply deleting them can feel like abandoning a loved one. But sometimes it has to be done because every moment in a story costs money and a lot of it! So, trim the fat to save money. Plus, it'll strengthen your narrative flow.
Always ask: Does this scene need to exist for the audience to understand the story? For instance, let's say you have your character shopping at a grocery store when it’s about to close. Do we need to see the character drive up to the parking lot and walk inside, or can we just show him shopping?
Or what about the first scene in The Dark Knight, where The Joker and his cronies burst through the bank with a school bus? Do we need to see how they managed to steal the school bus? Perhaps if the main character were the Joker, we might want to start the story at the very beginning. The buildup to the heist could then be the focus, like in the movie Heat. But the story is Batman, so…No. They don’t need to show how the Joker got the school bus because it isn’t important.
The only essential scenes are the ones that give context and understanding to the story. This can be challenging to discern, but when you're revising your draft, ask if it’s vital or supplemental. If it’s important, keep it. But if it’s supplemental, then yeah, maybe you can leave it in if it enhances the emotional engagement. But oftentimes, you can get rid of these and still keep it engaging.
Now, some scenes may need modification rather than removal. This is why going beyond writing and actually making films can be a game-changer for your career—it teaches you about production costs, constraints, and the importance of writing with execution in mind because it helps you understand the logistical challenges of creating a scene and better design it to fit your budget.
For instance, maybe you have a chase scene that involves cars. Does the chase scene have to happen in cars to serve the story, or is it just something preferable because it’s more exciting? Most of the time, a foot chase versus a car chase is irrelevant to the overall story. And since it’s way pricier and logistically harder to do chase scenes in cars, it might be better to rewrite your scene as a chase on foot if your budget is tight.
There are several common elements you might include in a script that have cheaper alternatives like choosing to shoot during the day instead of night, using a knife instead of a gun, having the scene take place in someone’s backyard instead of inside a museum, or making the whole story take place in the present instead of in the past or future.
All of these changes, among others, can still serve the story and keep it just as powerful. So when deciding which scenes to modify and make cheaper, First, understand film logistics. Second, find simpler, more affordable solutions.
Conclusion
So, that's how you write effective scenes. The more you do it, the more you’ll realize it’s about mastering structure and rhythm rather than following strict rules, much like photography. If you’ve ever held a DSLR camera, you’ll find it’s full of buttons and dials that control settings like exposure, focus, and white balance. And while there aren’t strict rules on how to use those controls, learning what they do helps you create the image you envision. That image isn’t always the standard, well-lit, shallow depth-of-field look. There’s no single right way to photograph something.
Sounds a lot like writing, huh? If you think about it, elements like tension and character motivation are conceptual tools that help refine what we want to create, just as we use knobs and settings when operating a DSLR to create an image.
And that’s why learning by doing is so important when it comes to screenwriting, because it’s about experimenting. You’re using those mental buttons and dials to see what works best for you, rather than sticking to some formulaic rulebook
Anywho, I know this was a long one. Apologies, but I hope this helps and as always, best of luck in your writing endeavors!
__________________________________________
Story Prism,