My
novel writing professor a few years ago defined structure as the backbone, the skeleton,
the blueprint of my novel where every scene must advance the plot, develop my
characters, and ground my reader in the story and the world. Scenes must be
essential to the story; every scene must trigger another and give the reader
information they’re hungry to hear, like “dramatic dominos”, in the words of
Elizabeth George in Write Away. According
to Jeff Vandermeer, author of Wonderbook,
every story conforms to some kind of pattern, some sense of organization by
which the writer decides what to emphasize and what not to emphasize in building the story’s structure. This is key. A
story in a dentist’s office should be more than just a character going in for a
cleaning: man visits dentist not for his routine cleaning, but to kill his
hygienist, his young blonde secret lover. Does the reader need to see the
hygienist and man meet weekly at the bar? Should the reader see a scene where
the man plans her murder? What about a scene of the man growing up with an
alcoholic father? It’s up the writer to make these decisions: what makes the
page and what doesn’t? What is the most effective way of telling the story? The
writer’s answer to these questions builds structure. Vandermeer describes
structure as, “the body of the beast, the bones and organs inside; plot is what
the beast looks like in motion, from the outside, going somewhere, and scenes
are high-level organic systems: the way the blood flows within the story
creature, the way it breathes” (Vandermeer pg. 137). In other words, the series
of events in a story, the plot, cannot exist without some kind of foundational
structure through the strategic placement of scenes, the blood line of story.
So what is a scene and how should I arrange scenes to tell my story?
“A
scene usually dramatizes interactions between characters and gives the reader
the impression of being shown, not told, the story” (Vandermeer pg. 154). I
think of scene as a camera following my characters, providing readers a “live”
action experience. Summary, on the other hand, describes or “tells” the readers
what happened and does not give readers that “live” experience. “Most fiction
consists of scenes with intermittent or linking summary” (Vandermeer pg. 155). It
would be impossible, and extremely redundant, to show every single event in a
character’s life “live”. For one, the novel would drag and be well over word
count. Two, not every action directly impacts character, conflict, or drives
the story forward. Therefore, I as the writer must decide what to show, what to
summarize, and what to leave out, to best support my story. I think this is one
of the most challenging aspects of writing because it demands I know my story.
Really know it. And to be honest, sometimes I’m still not clear what my story
should be, what makes for the most fascinating, most suspenseful, most thought
provoking tale? And I’m finding that it often takes several re-writes,
brainstorming and writing several alternatives, a trial and error of sorts,
until I know the version of the story most deserving of the page, and the best
mode (structure) of telling it.
It
is also important when deciding and arranging scenes, that I vary the types of
scenes I use. Even three action packed chapters of the same thing (a chase, a
battle, a death, whatever it may be), loses its excitement. Vandermeer says,
“Once you have dramatized a particular type of act or action or scene more than
once—sometimes as little as two or three times—it begins to give diminishing
returns to the reader, especially if presented back-to-back” (Vandermeer pg.
162). In other words, the scene no longer sparks the reader’s interest. I have
a feeling this is why my mentor asked me to trim Cache’s race sequence in the
Jumpers. Too much of the same thing actually hurt my story. It’s better to have
quality over quantity, make sure the scenes I create are purposeful and
special, so they jump out and not become invisible.
Writers
are basically a one man (or woman) show who are responsible for every single
aspect of their story: structure, plot, word choice, characters, etc. No
pressure. But I’m realizing the integral role characters play. Having a firm
foundation built around my characters is crucial. After all, they guide the
story.
“Skilled writers
know that what you're supposed to do is continually open up your story.
You do this by creating scenes in which you lay down -- but do not answer!
-- dramatic questions. You do this by making sure that if you do answer a
dramatic question in a scene as the novel progresses, you've already laid down
another. You do this by making partial disclosure instead of giving out all the
information you possess. Most important, you do this by creating suspense…, the
state of wanting to know what's going to happen to the characters. Really,
that's the key. Create characters who are real to the reader, who evoke an
emotional response within the reader, and you create suspense because
the reader will want to know what's going to happen to these people once the
status quo is shattered by the primary event” (George, pg. 43).
What I find interesting
about the quote above is how suspense doesn’t have to be a huge action sequence
with explosions and bullets. I can build suspense in my scenes by creating
authentic and likeable characters and putting obstacles, big and small in their
way. Small obstacles will have just as much emotional pull on readers as the
big if I design scenes that highlight my characters, raise their stakes, and
keep some questions unanswered. This is profound and definitely challenges my
notion of pacing.
“How
quickly or slowly a scene and, over the span of a story or novel, a series of
scenes seems to play out in the reader’s mind refers to pacing” (Vandermeer pg
155). I tend to keep a fast pace through
action sequences (a lot happening), first person present tense point of view,
quick descriptions, short snappy sentences with sharp verbs, and direct
dialogue. But I’ve heard that a continuous fast pace tires and confuses the
reader whereas slow scenes bore the reader into closing the book. The trick is
to juggle both fast and slow pace. Often the reader (and the character) need a
pause after a climactic scene to process what happened. A slow pace allows for
reflection, description, more relaxed dialogue, longer sentences and
paragraphs, and opportunities to show another dimension to the character.
Two
components of pacing include beats and progressions. “Beats are micro cycles of
ebb and flow, progress and set back playing out within a scene—action/reaction,
cause and effect, stimulus and response” (Vandermeer pg. 156). Think of a beat
as the pulse, the heartbeat of the story. Sometimes for a dramatic moment to be
felt, it needs another beat, more set up for the reader to connect. “A
progression describes the individual ordering of events and deployment of
information in scenes or across different scenes…Progressions should ramp up to
something more exciting than what came before” (Vandermeer pg. 156-157). Events
in the story should build upon one another, provide a sense of rising action. Beats
and progressions are why my mentor asked me to write a Cache pre-race scene.
One, to allow the reader more time to invest in Cache and his stakes. Two, to
build suspense for the race, instead of thrusting the reader into a race they
don’t yet understand or care about.
Vandermeer
argues that structure, “is actually the trickiest, most shape-shifty part of
fiction” (pg. 136). Why? Because each story can have its own unique structure:
the best way to tell my story is not the best way to tell someone else’s. There
are no lines to color inside of, nothing to trace, no exact rules. I should not
be afraid to play with the structure of my story, to try new things. As long as
the results feel organic, are built around character, and do not distract from
the story, the structure could be anything. Currently, I’m alternating scenes,
sometimes every two or three scenes between Zara in Twill and Cache in
Ethandril. I made this choice because I feel it best serves the story I’m
telling: two people living in vastly different worlds, with vastly different
backgrounds and life experiences collide and will learn to appreciate and
respect one another. Each scene allows the reader to see the world through that
character’s eyes which enables readers to be tolerant before my characters are
tolerant of one another. Each contrasting scene also shows readers the extremes
of each setting and the stark differences between the life of a Llure compared
to a Sive. So far I like this structure a lot. Where I think I’m struggling is
more with the arrangement of scenes, their pacing. In an attempt to rid my
story of the dreaded info dump, I’ve started scenes too far ahead. And in my
effort to keep the story moving and free from superfluous description, each
scene reads extremely fast and too much information is divulged at once. I need
to find a balance that fits this story: the right amount of mystery infused
with the right amount of information and backstory. And how do I know I’ve done
it right? Vandermeer doesn’t really give me an answer for this. But I have a
feeling he’d say, if at first you don’t succeed, try, try, try again. And so I
pick up the dominoes, reset them, until they fall in one swift wave.
Works Cited
George,
Elizabeth. "Plotting: It Is the Cause, My Soul." Write Away: One
Novelist's Approach to Fiction and the Writing Life. New York:
HarperCollins, 2004. Print.
VanderMeer,
Jeff. Wonderbook: An Illustrated Guide to Creating Imaginative Fiction.
New York: Abrams Image, 2013. Print.
