Have you ever heard the phrase ‘scene and sequel’, and wondered what it meant?

Scene

A scene is a unit of action. Something happens. A scene isn’t a person thinking about other characters, it isn’t a group of people sitting around talking about what did happen (or what might happen), and it isn’t a long passage of description following a character through a range of actions.

KM Weiland says each scene will have three parts:

• Goal: what your viewpoint character wants
• Conflict: why he or she can’t achieve their goal
• Outcome: the build-up to the next scene

Sol Stein gives a useful list of questions to review for each scene:

• Is the scene described in terms of the action that takes place? If there is no action, there is no scene.
• Is each scene visible throughout so that the reader can see what is happening before his eyes? If the action is not visible, you are probably sliding into narrative summary of past events or offstage events.
• Which character in the scene do you have the most affection for? How can you make the reader feel affection or compassion for that character in this scene?
• Is there a character in this scene who threatens the protagonist subtly or openly, psychologically or physically?

Each scene should be from the point of view of a single character, the character who has the most at risk in the scene.

Sequel

Sequel follows scene, and also has three components:

• Reaction: to the disaster in the preceding scene
• Dilemma: what to do?
• Decision: Determine a solution to the dilemma. This will formulate a goal for the next scene (or the next scene where this is the POV character)

There is some controversy over sequel. Some say:

The sequel—the second half of the Scene—sometimes gets shortchanged. But it is every bit as important as the scene, since it allows characters to process the events of the scene and figure out their next move. (KM Weiland)

Others say:

If you’ve used the ‘Scene & Sequel’ method of structuring, shrink the sequels. Most sequels need to be no longer than a paragraph. Often, a single sentence is enough. (Rayne Hall)

I’ve read novels with too much introspection, to the point that it brings the plot to a grinding halt. I’ve also read novels where it’s all go-go-go! action scenes, and no one ever stops to think about anything (acting without thinking is as stupid in fiction as in real life). So here is my entirely unsubstantiated view as a prolific fiction reader:

• If it feels like there is too much sequel, cut some.
• If it doesn’t feel like there is enough, add some.

The first quarter of the novel is introducing the reader to the characters. Deep point of view is a good way of helping the reader get to know and empathise with the character, and a way of providing us with necessary backstory. However, introspection should not be at the expense of getting the plot moving. The second quarter of the novel is the main character reacting to the first major plot point. Reacting. It therefore makes sense that they have a level of introspection, probably more than in the first quarter.

The third quarter of the novel, is when the main character starts to act rather than react, so there is probably less introspection. The final quarter of the novel is building up to the climax. The pace of the novel should be increasing: shorter sentences, more action—and less introspection. We want the heroine to defuse the bomb, catch the villain and get her man. We don’t want to bring the tension to a grinding halt a with a detailed and descriptive interior monologue about whether she should have chosen Plum Seduction nail polish rather than Cherry Crush and what might that symbolise. We. Just. Don’t. Care.

Summary

Narrative summary is telling, not showing, and telling should be kept to a minimum. We don’t need to know every detail, for example, of leaving the house, locking the front door, walking to the car, unlocking the driver’s side door, climbing in, then starting the car—unless the villain has hooked a bomb to the ignition, in which case giving this level of detail would ramp up the tension. But if it’s just a part of the everyday routine, we don’t need to know the details. Summarise, then move on to the next action sequence.

The key is to show the intense scenes and tell the less important transitions (the narrative summary) between important scenes. As a guide, if what you are writing has the possibility of present-moment dialogue, it is a scene and should be written as such. If not, you’re in summary. (James Scott Bell)

However, there are times when summary is useful. A short passage of narrative summary will slow the plot down, which can provide a welcome break for the reader if there have been a number of high-action sequences. Summary can also be useful when you have a lot of repetitive action (e.g. household chores, or routine actions at work). Show the action the first time, then use summary. 

This brings me to the end of this series on plot and structure. Next week we will start a series on publishing options. Sign up to follow by email to ensure you don’t miss any posts.

KM Weiland is the author of two books on writing (Outlining Your Novel and Structuring Your Novel), and several works of fiction, including Behold the Dawn and Dreamlander. This post is based on the information in  Structuring Your Novel, available on Kindle, and which I highly recommend for Weiland’s understandable and no-nonsense way of explaining structure in ten steps:

The First Act

1. The Hook

The Hook will always be a question (perhaps explicit, but probably implicit), piquing your readers’ curiosity, urging them to read on and find out, “What happens next?”. This needs to be as close as possible to the beginning of the book—ideally on the first page, if not in the first line.

Your opening also needs to set the tone of your book (is it light, dark, funny, sad, deep …), and perform several other vital functions:

• Introduce your hero and heroine
• Establish the time and setting
• Open with movement
• Establish conflict

Weiland cautions against using prologues (because they force the reader to begin the story twice), dream sequences (considered Freudian), flashbacks, flashforwards or too much backstory in the opening chapters. Done well, these techniques can form compelling fiction, but they are usually not done well.

2. The Inciting Event

The Inciting Event (which may also be called the Inciting Incident) is the conflict which sets the story’s action in motion. It is most often found in the opening chapter, but sometimes the Inciting Event occurs before the story itself actually starts, and sometimes it won’t happen until late in the first quarter of the book. Be aware that if the Inciting Event doesn’t occur quickly, the story may begin to drag (and remember, if a story feels as if it is dragging, it is probably because the structure is off).

3. The Key Event

The Key Event is related to the Inciting Event. It is that moment or action when the lead character becomes engaged by the Inciting Event. If the Inciting Event is the start of a war, the Key Event is when the protagonist becomes personally involved in the war.

4. The First Plot Point

The First Plot Point is an event that changes everything for the protagonist.

The first quarter of your book lays the foundation of your entire story. Everything that is important at the end of the story must have been introduced in the First Act (equally, everything that is introduced in the First Act should have relevance and importance later in the story). Laying this foundation for future conflict is the most important function of the First Act.

The second function is to give your readers the opportunity to learn about your characters, about their goals and motivations. This is best done through the use of deep point of view.

The Second Act

5. The First Half of the Second Act

The protagonist is now reacting to the events around them. There must be no choice: they have to react to what has now become the status quo. There is no way back to ‘normal’.

6. The Midpoint

The Midpoint is your story’s second major plot point (or, as Randy Ingermanson says, your second disaster). The difference is that now your character is more equipped to handle what happens.

7. The Second Half of the Second Act

Now your protagonist is ready to go on the offensive, to take action against the antagonistic force. This Midpoint has changed the way your protagonist sees the world, so this is also where we will start to see change in their character arc (because character change, like conflict, is one of the hallmarks of good fiction).

The Third Act

8. The Third Plot Point

This is, once again, going to change everything. Whatever happens here is going to force your character to a low place. He’s going to finally have to analyze his actions and his motivations and get down to the core of his own personal character arc.

9. The Climax

Your Climax is the point of the whole story. This is where the conflict must finally be resolved, one way or the other. It will

probably start at around the 90% mark of the story, and finish only a few pages before The End.

10. The Resolution

The Resolution is the one final scene that shows how your character will react to the events of the Climax. These closing paragraphs have dual purpose: to leave your reader with warm feelings about this book, and to sell your next book.
The three-act structure, the Snowflake method, the ten-point method … What method of plotting do you use? One of these, or something different?

GMC: Goals, Motivation, Conflict was first published in 1996, is now available as a Kindle edition, and is recommended reading. Authors who use the methodology tell me it’s changed their writing (yes, they mean for the better), and I believe them. I see too many manuscripts (or self-published books) with insufficient conflict.

The basic premise of GMC is that each character must have a goal—something they must achieve at any cost. They are motivated to achieve this goal, but some form of conflict gets in the way. The best characters have internal and external GMC.

Dixon envisages the GMC method being useful for several aspects of writing:

– plotting

– characterisation

– revision

Dixon says:

There is no right or wrong way to approach your manuscript, story idea, or revision. Seek first to understand the concept of GMC, and only then ask yourself how you can use GMC in your own work.

Commercial fiction readers expect your characters to have goals, to be motivated, and to face conflict. They expect you to answer four simple questions:

Who = character
What = goal
Why = motivation
Why not = conflict

The GMC for a character can be encapsulated in a single sentence:

[Goal] because [Motivation] but [Conflict]

This can be illustrated by Dorothy, from The Wizard of Oz: Dorothy wants to get home to Kansas (goal) because her Auntie Em is sick (motivation) but she must fight a witch on her way to the Emerald City to see the Wizard (conflict) who has the power to send her home.

Dixon recommends authors create a GMC chart for each character, then examine where the internal or external goals or motivations of each character product conflict with another character:

Each character should have an internal and an external goal, motivation and conflict, and it is these conflicting character GMCs which give a novel its overall plot arc.

Goal

Important points to remember:

1. Goals must be important and urgent. Failure will create consequences for the character.
2. Multi-layered characters have both external and internal goals.
3. The large central goal of a character is often accompanied by a series of smaller goals, which drive the action of the book.
4. Characters goals can change over the course of a book.
5. All the characters in your book should have GMC.
6. Character decisions drive the plot.
7. Goals are not always achieved by the characters. If you choose this structure, you must satisfy the reader in other ways.
8. Multiple goals are like meteors. They should crash into each other and have impact on your character—forcing him to make decisions.

Motivation

Proper motivation is the missing component for many authors. In fiction we have to have our characters do things they wouldn’t normally do.

When someone tells you that your story is not believable, it isn’t because you sent the characters to a space planet. It’s not because your character cured cancer. It’s because your GMC wasn’t logical. Your GMC wasn’t appropriate to your characters. What the reader is telling you is, “I didn’t believe these people would find themselves in this situation or make these decisions.”

Conflict

Quick definitions of conflict

1. Conflict is a struggle against someone or something in which the outcome is in doubt.
2. Conflict is bad things happening to good people.
3. Conflict is bad things happening to bad people.
4. Conflict is friction, tension, opposition.
5. Conflict is two dogs and one bone.

If the conflict could be settled by a short conversation between two adults, it’s a misunderstanding:

Misunderstanding could provide a brief minor conflict, but readers get restless when you try to extend a simple misunderstanding into the book’s central conflict … If your characters in rocky relationships can sit down and resolve some misunderstanding, then you don’t have conflict.

Equally:

Bickering is not conflict. Not only does bickering fail as true conflict, it’s annoying to many readers.

And:

A string of coincidences culminating in character stupidity do not make a believable story.

This will, however, guarantee you reviews commenting on your TSTL heroine (or, less often, TSTL hero). TSTL? Too stupid to live. In the days before ebooks, these titles were thrown at the nearest wall. Now they are just deleted.

Dixon also explains why I’m an editor, not a novelist:

If conflict makes you uncomfortable or you have difficulty wrecking the lives of your characters, you need to consider another line of work.

Have you used the GMC method? Did it improve your writing? How?