Sequels and Scene Pacing

I just read Alicia's last Q&A post and have to chime in. You can add me to the "not a big fan of sequels" column.

I have two additional points to make on this topic. These don't contradict what Alicia has said, but are mere elaborations.

First, a mechanical application of Bickham's rule for scene, then sequel often results in a too-introspective story. Not all actions require analysis. As a general rule, I think we need this kind of analysis when the motivation for the character's next action requires some set-up. In other words -- not sequel, but prequel. And the amount of prequel should be in proportion to how much the character must change and grow in order to take that next step.

In other words, stop thinking about what just happened. It's over. Been there, done that. The only thing that matters now is what happens next, and you have to lead the reader to it without either boring them or undercutting the conflict.

So that's my first thought. My second has to do with Dan Brown. (Stop groaning, all you purists. There's a good technique lesson here.)

When The DaVinci Code hit big, everyone I knew who'd read it -- including people who read, on average, one book every decade or so -- made the same comment. "I couldn't stop reading. I kept thinking, one more section, one more chapter, but then I'd read the next part and still couldn't put the book down."

Hmm, thinks I. What's behind all this frantic page-turning?

I asked my writer friends who had read the book, and got a range of answers related to the short length of the scenes and chapters, the constant sense of danger to the characters, and the plot itself. But when I finally read the book myself, I noticed that Brown breaks the convention of treating scenes like self-contained units which begin and end in predictable places.

A complete scene unit usually follows this basic pattern:

• scene goal
• character action in furtherance of the goal
• character meets obstacle
• obstacle creates complications
• complications force decisions
• decisions lead to new scene goal

And then repeats itself, over and over, with minor variations, until the large scale conflict is resolved. Goal, action, obstacle, complication, decion, goal, action, obstacle, complication, decision, goal, action, obstacle, complication, decision, goal, and so on....

Under the Bickham model, a lot of emphasis is put on the moment of decision, enough so that he seems to recommend treating it as a standalone unit, perhaps in conjunction with the next goal. So the actions are clumped:

• action, obstacle, complication
• decision, goal

And repeat themselves in this fashion until the end of the book.

Because most people appear to think of scenes as some group of actions beginning with a goal and ending after that goal has been attempted (with whatever result), this Bickham model makes some intuitive sense. Put the active things together in one unit, and the analytical things together in a separate unit. Scene cuts and chapter breaks can fall naturally either before or after one of these units.

But if you're Dan Brown, you know that the moment when things are worst is the moment when readers are most interested. And when are things at their worst? During the obstacle, or maybe the complication. So he places his scene cuts and chapter breaks in the obstacle, or sometimes in the early part of the complication. His pattern, then, is:

• complication, decision, goal, action, obstacle

Or,

• finish previous complication, decision, goal, action, obstacle, start of complication

Which means that all the boring head stuff, the slower paced stuff, is buried in the middle of his scenes, and all the fast, OMG-what-now stuff falls right at the moment where a reader would normally put the book down -- the scene cuts and chapter breaks -- but in this case, must keep reading. Because really, who can put the book down when bullets are flying and the hero is trapped in an upside down sarcophagus and the bad guys are right!! there!! --

-- and what? we're cutting away from this scene now? Holy crap, the reader thinks, don't leave me hanging --

-- so we read the next line, which takes us to the other good guys, the authority figures or semi-good guys. (Brown triangulates his storylines -- good guys, semi-good guys, bad guys.) And damn it all if we didn't leave the semi-good guys this--><-- close to some disaster at the last scene cut. Which Brown kindly reminds us of, and then races us through to the next obstacle, before leaving us hanging -- leaving us hanging again! Are you freaking kidding me?--

-- And now we're with the bad guy, who is going to do what? No way! He can't possibly be so evil as to-- cut again! Leave it hanging! What exactly is that bad guy doing?--

-- But the first line of the next scene reminds us of the last disaster to the hero, and the bullets are still flying, and the hero is discovering he has a very dry roommate in the sarcophagus, and how the hell can anyone ever put a bookmark in the book? One more page, just one more page, and then we'll put the book down and go to sleep.

Yeah. I stayed up all night reading it, too. And yes, I agree with all the criticisms -- in particular, the women characters are badly drawn -- yet I still had to read it through in one big gulp.

All of which is to say, play with your sequel material. Minimize it where possible, bury it in unlikely places if you want the emphasis to remain on the action, and never forget to save the Dan Brown books for a night when you can skip sleeping.

Theresa

Question about scene and sequel

Shauna asks--

A lot of my scenes don't have sequels or incorporate that material into the last couple of paragraphs. Perhaps I don't understand the power of the scene-sequel combo; to me it seems to interrupt and slow the action to have a chunk of introspection, discussion, and decisionmaking after every scene. What's your take on structuring a book as a series of scenes and sequels?

--

I agree with you, actually! Often a sequel does slow the action, and I don't think all scenes, or all characters, or all books, need sequels. They seem best suited with a more contemplative character who faces a problem that he/she thinks thinking or deciding will help resolve (whether he/she is right or not). Sequels probably don't work as well (at least in the first half of the book) with a character who always defaults to action instead of contemplation. Some writers say a sequel CAN be action, but to me, that just means more, uh, action, thus scene, not sequel.

As for putting the sequel at the end of the scene-- I prefer important scenes especially to end on conflict, and the trouble with sequel is it tends to be more resolution of conflict (she figures out what she's going to do, for example). Conflict is what causes anxiety in the reader, and thus, page turning.

But there's a way to fix that rather easily while adding a sequel-- put the sequel not at the end of Scene A, but at the beginning of the next scene (even better if the next scene starts a new chapter). That way Scene A can end with conflict (a dilemma without a solution yet), and the reader is impelled to turn the page to see what happens-- and then is treated to a bit of the POV character's contemplation in Scene B.

As with all "rules," sequel only works when it works, and when it doesn't, try something else. :)

Alicia

Redlines Four: Avoiding the Need for "Sequels"

Last month, we structured some interior monologue (IM) so that action framed the IM and oriented the reader. That technique is effective in “sequels” -- narrative bits in which we pause for reflection, planning, and the like. IMand its weaker cousin, exposition, can also be used in scenes. This month, we’ll braid interpetive bits into a scene where plot information is conveyed through dialogue.

One of the primary differences between a scene and a sequel is the narrative emphasis. In a scene, the narrative focuses on events -- action or dialogue moving the plot forward. Anything that detracts from the events will slow the pacing of the scene.

By contrast, a sequel focuses on the internal reaction of the point of view character to a prior scene or scene sequence. The character will literally be exploring thoughts and feelings, which means that sequels are generally heavy in exposition.

Some writing teachers advocate a one-to-one ratio of scenes and sequels. But even where a lot of internal landscaping is necessary -- as in romance -- following every scene with a sequel can slow the pace and create a mechanical narrative. This is true even when the sequels are shorter than the scenes.

One alternative is to weave small pieces of IM and/or exposition into scenes. For this to work, the IM/expo and the scene action must remain in balance. Knowing how to balance these elements requires analysis and judgment, because the balance will vary depending on the plot and characters.

Think, for example, of a dialogue scene in which Tex tells Kate that his mother doesn’t like her. If this is a major plot element -- if, for example, Tex will lose his inheritance if his mother does not approve of his bride -- then the reader might need Kate’s emotional reactions in the scene, plus a sequel. Balance is the key. Big movements in plot action require bigger amounts of character reaction.

In that case, the sequence might look like this:
“My mother doesn’t like you,” Tex said.
*Kate has an internal reaction.*
*Kate responds to Tex directly.*
*The scene concludes.*
*IM-heavy sequel where Kate reflects and decides how to proceed.*

But maybe Tex’s mother’s feelings are not outcome-determinative. The reader will still want Kate’s reaction. The question becomes, how much information is needed for Kate’s reaction to make sense? If a lot of information is necessary -- for example, backstory about Kate’s dealings with the mother, things that happened outside the narrative timeline -- then the scene may need to be briefly interrupted to convey that information.

Then the sequence might look like this:
“My mother doesn’t like you,” Tex said.
*Kate starts to react, but pauses.*
*Exposition: Kate reflects on backstory that explains her reaction.*
*Kate returns to her reaction and more dialogue ensues.*
*The scene concludes.*

In that case, no sequel would be needed. Here’s another option:
“My mother doesn’t like you,” Tex said.
“But we’ve sat on committees together, and she’s never acted like she hates me,” Kate said. (introduce backstory)
*Conclude scene quickly.*
*Sequel to fully develop backstory and Kate’s IM.*

But maybe Tex’s revelation is not outcome-determinative and any backstory has already been revealed. In that case, you can avoid interrupting the scene and/or providing a sequel. In order for this to work, the bits of reaction must be succinct and understandable.

One way to do this requires dialogue beats. Beats are little drops of action that fall outside the quotation marks and let the reader know who is speaking and what they are doing. For example:

“My mother doesn’t like you.” Tex folded his arms across his broad chest.

The beat is the second sentence. It replaces the dialogue tag (Tex said) with a stage gesture that provides insight into Tex’s internal dynamics. It’s not true IM because we’re not in Tex’s point of view, but it is a clue into what his IM might be, and provides something more for Kate to react to.

Now let’s add Kate’s reaction:
“My mother doesn’t like you.” Tex folded his arms across his broad chest.
His gesture was at odds with his casual tone. All right, then, he didn’t want her to take it too hard, even though he clearly felt a need to brace himself for her response. But Kate was not about to let his mother stand between them.
“She’ll change her mind once she knows me better.” Kate spread her hands wide, a gesture of openness, and was relieved to see that he dropped his arms to his sides.
“If anyone can win her over, it’s you.”

The IM comes through in Kate’s analysis of his gesture, her planned responsive gesture, and her relief when he relaxes. If we map it, it looks something like this:

*dialogue* *beat*
*her IM in three sentences*
*dialogue*
*she mirrors his gesture* *his new gesture*
*dialogue*

The dialogue acts like touchstones, framing the gestures and bridging his changing responses. The IM acts like a fulcrum, balancing Tex’s first action with his changed reaction.

Now we don’t need a sequel that explains Kate’s or Tex’s state of mind, because it should be clear from the scene. The reader not only sees the characters’ gestures, but why the gestures are important. But it takes a lot of narrative to load the gestures with meaning -- three sentences in Kate’s IM to qualify what they’re doing with their arms. This goes beyond the scope of a typical beat in a dialogue exchange, which is usually much shorter.

And that’s the danger in weaving IM or exposition into an active scene. Dialogue is fast-paced, but exposition in particular feels slow. The key, again, is balance. If the dialogue is important, more qualifying details can be braided in without grinding the pace down too much. But if the dialogue is relatively unimportant, the interpretive details should be confined to pieces no longer than typical beats -- or even eliminated altogether.

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This is the third in the series of my dusty old Redlines column.
Redlines One (on paragraph logic faults) can be found here.
Redlines Two (on dialoge sequencing) can be found here.
Redlines Three (on using frames within scenes) can be found here.

Theresa