You spent weeks planning your first story. Now you’re ready to write, which you do with great confidence. And then after months of strenuous effort, you share it with others, but as soon as you get that feedback, your entire bubble bursts just like that. The story isn’t well-received and you feel totally ruined. How could this be when you spent so much time and effort on it? What happened?
It’s likely a whole number of things, the main one being not having practiced enough. 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 scenes is like a brain surgeon not knowing how to properly cut a skull open. It’s literally the potatoes to your meat. You have to know how to build your scenes. So how do you write a scene that’s effective for telling a story? What are the steps to accomplish this, and what are the primary things we should consider?
Well…These are all excellent questions, so let's dive into this by breaking down everything we need to know about creating a scene from start to finish, and by the end, hopefully, your next draft will be better. Maybe not perfect, but you know…Baby steps!
Now, before we get into the nuts and bolts, if you haven’t already I’d consider reading the Anatomy of Script Formatting so you know how and why we format scenes the way that we do. This will make the rest of the article clearer. But for those who have a good understanding already, let’s continue.
Beginning, Middle, and End
The first thing to know when constructing a scene is that it’s typically broken up into a beginning, middle, and an end or a 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 of resolution to the conflict. Here’s a good example of what I mean by 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 shown that the name it was delivered to is not the name of either of them. As they complain, the conflict rises after the clerk informs them that he’s about to close. This leads to an argument, which spirals into an unexpected altercation, and it’s resolved when the clerk, who turns out to be a disabled vet, kicks their asses. Beginning, middle, and end.
Also, notice the cause and effect relationship. 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 their asses getting kicked. So setting and setup lead to a cause or a conflict, which creates an effect or a 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 beginnings and ends, others have beginnings and middles but no ends, some start with middles and then end with beginnings, and so on. There are a lot of different ways you can do it but ultimately most scenes have some variation of a beginning, middle, and an end with cause and effect elements incorporated so the story is able to have a sense of movement.
That’s the basic flow structure of a scene. Now, how do you create the tempo within that structure?
Rising and Falling Tension
Ever notice that when you listen to a song it seems to either start off simple and grow in complexity or it starts off with complexity and diminishes to simplicity? Maybe a song will start with a single voice or an instrument before incorporating the other instruments. Or perhaps it will start with a bang and use all the instruments before dropping to a single voice or instrument only to rise back to 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, and it more or less defines the tempo of our scenes and how they build, which if done well, can make your story much more compelling.
This is a fine example of rising tension from the famous apartment scene in, “Pulp Fiction”. If you notice at the very beginning, everything is pretty calm, right? Jules and Vincent knock on the door and enter a room where they encounter three men eating lunch. Jules begins a casual conversation with them, acting very kind and cheery. As viewers, we get a sense of ease, but this is juxtaposed by the terrified expressions on all the men’s faces. So we also get this underlying sense that we should be afraid, but we don’t exactly know why we should be.
That is until the scene unfolds and we realize that Jules and Vincent work for a very powerful man that these guys stole from, and Jules and Vincent are here to collect it. What makes this scene so interesting, though, is its slow rise in tension. They didn’t just burst through the door and threaten them with guns. They were invited in and converse with the thieves before slowly turning violent on them.
As the whole thing unfolds you see this rise and fall in the tension. Everything is fine, then it gets a little tense before amplifying more and more, and just as it reaches its maxim, we see a complete fall in tension only to experience an immediate rise at the 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. You can literally set your scenes up in a whole number of ways because there isn’t a right answer.
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 the tension at an unexpected moment before rising the tension once more. Play the scene as you would a musical instrument and create that melodic tempo that best matches what you’re looking to achieve. Do this and your scenes will come out way more interesting.
Show Don’t Tell
So now we know how to control the structure and tempo for our scenes, but what about the information in the action lines? Specifically, what exactly do you put into them and what do you keep out? You’re writing for an audience, which means you’re also writing for a crew to create something for that audience to see. So this means, first and foremost, show don’t tell. Now, what the hell does that cliche-sounding phrase mean?
A common mistake made by first-time writers is describing what’s happening instead of describing what we’re seeing. That is, writing things in your action lines that explain what’s happening rather than describing what is being shown to explain what is happening.
For example, let’s say you’re describing someone shopping at a store that’s about to close. If you simply write, “He scans the aisles knowing they’re about to close.” how exactly do we know the store is about to close?
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, an announcement being made, or we see someone collecting the registers (all things that can be utilized to maximize the tempo in your scene). So as a writer you want to describe these things instead of just explaining that the store is about to close. At the end of the day, assuming all goes well, a bunch of people will come together and make this into a film, and if none of those things are written then the crew has to do more work and think about them.
An experienced director and crew can certainly pick up on these logistical unknowns that are major. But sometimes, even if they are experienced, it might be missed and if that happens, you’re looking at a very stressful moment on set because suddenly everyone has to think on their feet and improvise to make it known that something like a store is about to close.
It’s annoying, but if you plan on writing scripts I would reduce the amount of explaining and lean way more on describing what is literally shown so that it’s easier for everyone to turn it into a film. This also makes it easier to rely less on dialogue because if you think about it, a film is telling the story with the environment, action, and dialogue. Utilize all and find a good balance between them.
The Right Amount of Description
Now, in terms of how much is too much description versus how much is too little? Well, that’s where it can be a little tricky. I try to factor in what all key members of the crew need to know so they can do their jobs. That isn’t necessary, but personally, I find it’s easier to communicate and coordinate with a crew when you cover all your primary bases. Specifically, I like to add in:
General description of the space using keywords to suggest overall aesthetics and tone (i.e dark, messy room, bright and empty office, etc.)
Where people are within that space and where they go
How people look and how they are dressed (i.e homely with messy hair, well-groomed with a nice suit, etc).
Primary objects that are used or are important for telling the story (i.e photo of dead wife, dusty guitar in the background, knife on the counter, etc).
The key is to describe everything in the order that we’re seeing it and use as few words as possible to describe all these things. What words should be used? Words in the present tense, of course, but also words that can suggest a whole slew of other things that your crew can infer and make choices on.
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 a lot to infer from. So you just need to describe enough to paint the picture for your crew to do the rest of the work.
But keep in mind. This isn’t fundamental when writing a scene. A lot of great writers are vague in their descriptions because, often, it’s passed off to a production company and director who add in those details. But it does make your script look a lot more professional when handing it off, and it makes their jobs a hell of a lot easier!
Deciding How to Break Up Your Action Lines
Okay now how about breaking up your action lines? I’m sure most of you have read a script by now and can see that action lines are broken up into chunks. This is called the utilization of white space.
White space, in the literal sense, is just the space in between your action lines, but they’re more than just that. They are representations of cuts in your shots. So your action lines represent the shots and your white space represents the cuts that are taking place in between the shots. It isn’t exactly 1:1, though. You can obviously have a few sentences or more in your action line, and that entire block of action could represent 1 or 3 shots because, really, it’s up to the director and cinematographer on how it’s shot.
But typically it’s good to try and keep it close to 1:1 as in, one or two action lines equals one or two shots. And when you describe what is happening in the shots, while it’s okay to use technical direction, too much can diminish the flow. Saying things like, “ANGLE ON” every time we start a new action line is ridiculous and totally 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 perfectly fine to incorporate those words even if it doesn’t end up in the final cut because those are motivated shots that have significance to 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 good to add them in. Just make sure to use the correct terminology and only do it when it makes sense.
Bad Time for Dialogue
Alright, now let’s get into dialogue, something we know is necessary if not, the most important part of a scene. But when should dialogue be used? Or rather, when should it not be used because most of the time it can be pretty straightforward knowing when to use it. But it isn’t so easy to know when it should be withheld.
A good way to know is to write it the first time as you think it should be, and then when you look back over what you’ve written, stop and 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 as long as you’re utilizing your action lines appropriately and using the right kind of subtext to fill the audience in.
So let's go back to the person shopping at a grocery store and say that we want the audience to know that this person is overwhelmingly tired from a long day’s work and has just gotten off. 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 the hell is he talking to? Second, if we see in the action lines that he has bags under his eyes, is walking wearily, has messy hair, a uniform from another store, and all these other things 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.
So when you write your scenes and have dialogue, always question whether this needs to be said because oftentimes you can take advantage of the environment, action, and what the characters look like to explain things. And if it does need to be said, just make sure you say it once, succinct, and as natural as possible. Less is not better. It is your godfather.
Scenes That Matter/Don’t Matter
We’re at the final stretch! We wrote our scenes with a beginning, middle, and an end, incorporated rising and falling tension, showed more than we told, described just the right amount that needed to be described, utilized white space properly, and chopped out all the 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 writing each scene, the thought of simply deleting them feels analogous to killing your own child. But sometimes it has to be done because every moment in a story costs money and a lot of it! So you need to trim the fat and get rid of the excess, which won’t just save you money but will also help your story flow better.
To determine what should be cut and what should be left in, ask yourself, “Does this scene need to exist for people 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 into the store or can we just show him shopping at the store?
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 was the Joker and we wanted to start the story at the very beginning where it was all about a build-up to this heist, 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 scenes that are important are the ones that give context and understanding to the story. This can be challenging to discern, but when you take a second stab at your draft, always question whether this is vital or supplemental to the story. If it’s vital, keep it. But if it’s supplemental, then yeah, maybe you can keep it in if it serves to enhance the emotional engagement. But oftentimes you can get rid of these and still keep it emotionally engaging.
Then there might be scenes that can’t be deleted but need to be modified to meet your budget. This is why going beyond the writing and making films can be really powerful for your career because it can help you understand the logistical challenges in creating a scene, and that can help you better design them to meet your budget.
For instance, maybe you have a chase scene that involves cars. Does the chase scene have to happen in cars in order to serve the story, or is it just something preferable because it’s more exciting? Most of the time, a chase occurring on foot versus cars 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 re-write your scene as a chase on foot if your budget is tight.
There are a bunch of common things you might write 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 the logistics that go into making films, and second, try to develop alternatives to say the same thing in ways that are cheaper and easier to do.
Conclusion
So that is how you write effective scenes for your stories. The more you do it, the more you’ll realize that it’s more form than rules, similar to photography. If you ever held a DSLR camera you’ll find it’s full of buttons and dials that do all sorts of things. And while there aren’t any rules to how those buttons should be used, learning what they do can help you form the right image that you want, which isn’t always the standard, well-lit, shallow depth-of-field look. There are many different ways you can photograph something, perhaps an infinite number of ways, and more perplexing is that there isn’t one single right answer.
Sounds a lot like writing, huh? If you think about it, everything from rising and falling tension to character engines are really just mental buttons we’ve created for ourselves to dial in on what we are aiming to produce, just as we use buttons and dials 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 in a variety of different ways and 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!
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Story Prism, LLC