| The story you want to tell in your novel has to | | | | 'Wait a minute!' Henry exploded. 'Is that it?' |
| be broken down into plot segments, in other | | | | Mr Jessup's features tightened. 'Please allow me to |
| words scenes. There should be continuity of | | | | continue reading your uncle's will, Mr Penrose.' |
| scenes, each following logically from the one | | | | 'Yes, shut up, Henry,' Aunt Beatrice said. 'You're |
| before. This makes up the plot as a whole. | | | | upsetting poor dear Alice who has just lost her |
| You have your basic working outline to follow, but | | | | beloved husband.' |
| this is just a guideline. As you come to write each | | | | 'But...' Henry spluttered. 'I mean to say! Uncle Sam |
| scene you should decide beforehand what that | | | | promised...' |
| scene will contain i.e. what kind of action will | | | | 'Be quiet!' |
| happen, what information will be passed to the | | | | Visibly shaken by the outburst Mr Jessup cleared |
| reader. It is best to make notes at this stage, | | | | his throat again. 'To Gregory Penrose I leave this |
| just before starting to write, fleshing out the | | | | house and the rest of my estate, in the sum of |
| structure of the scene just a little. The meat and | | | | five hundred thousand pounds.' |
| fat is put on the bones when you come to the | | | | There was dead silence and Greg felt all eyes on |
| actual writing of it. | | | | him. |
| In the very first scene, where the hook should | | | | 'I didn't know!' he exclaimed. 'Honest, I didn't.' |
| be, under no circumstances begin it with | | | | 'A likely story,' Henry growled. |
| information on the backstory i.e. the past history | | | | 'I get nothing from my brother's estate?' Aunt |
| and background of the key character. That will kill | | | | Beatrice wailed. 'I mean poor dear Alice gets |
| pace stone-dead. At this stage the reader could | | | | nothing?' |
| not care less about the key character as he does | | | | Mr Jessup mopped his brow with a handkerchief. |
| not know him and hasn't had time to empathize. | | | | 'There is a codicil,' he said faintly. 'He left you the |
| When the reader knows the character and begins | | | | chiffonier from the breakfast room, the one you |
| to like him that is when he starts to care and | | | | have always admired.' |
| must read on. | | | | 'Oh!' |
| Backstory information can be spoon fed to the | | | | Mr Jessup looked furtively at Alice who had sat |
| reader gradually through the novel by brief | | | | silent all through the proceedings. 'To my widow...' |
| snatches of introspection by the character himself | | | | Mr Jessup gulped. 'I leave nothing as that is |
| and by dialogue with other characters. That is | | | | exactly what she brought to our marriage.' |
| why dialogue is such a dynamic device. The | | | | Here we have some introspection from the |
| character's inner thoughts i.e. the device, | | | | point-of-view (POV) character, snappy dialogue |
| Introspect, is best used in brief passages because | | | | which has helped with characterisation, and |
| it is not dynamic and will endanger pace if these | | | | several bits of business. |
| passages are too long. | | | | One of the most important points to note about |
| Although dynamic, dialogue too can cause slowing | | | | writing action scenes is that the scene should not |
| of pace if the writer does not break it up with | | | | end before the action has ended. If writer tries to |
| some action or physical movement; what can be | | | | follow the example of current scriptwriters of |
| termed as 'bits of business'. This happens when | | | | television shows he may find himself in difficulty. |
| one character has a long speech to do. There | | | | Take the scripts of popular soaps. Soap scenes |
| may be various reasons in the plot why he needs | | | | last a matter of seconds, the camera flashing |
| to do this; an explanation to the key character | | | | from one confrontation to another. For example in |
| for instance. To prevent the speech turning into a | | | | one scene a couple might be having a furious |
| mere block of text over which the reader's eye | | | | argument. While they are in full voice of this, the |
| stumbles, the writer interjects snatches of such | | | | camera switches to another scene elsewhere, |
| bits of business. The reading of a will for instance | | | | remains there a few seconds and then switches |
| (little more than a list of names) could become | | | | back to the argument. This technique works fine |
| monotonous for the reader if read in one block. | | | | for television but not for the novel. |
| Here is an example of how it can be broken up | | | | A scene of action in the novel must be played |
| to maintain pace. | | | | out to the end. A switch to another location and |
| Greg sat with the others in a small semi-circle | | | | another set of characters cannot occur in the |
| before the solicitor's desk where Mr Jessup sat, | | | | same scene. Remember one point-of-view |
| shuffling some papers. Greg could feel the tension | | | | character per scene. Another good reason for not |
| in the room. This is what they all had been waiting | | | | breaking off in the middle of an action sequence is |
| for for so long; Uncle Sam's money. | | | | that the reader's expectation and satisfaction of |
| Mr Jessup cleared his throat and glanced at the | | | | the outcome of the action is thwarted. This alone |
| papers. 'This is the last will and testament of...' | | | | can push him out of his enthrallment and stop him |
| 'Cut that bit,' Henry said curtly. 'Get on with it.' | | | | turning pages. Some writers try this with the last |
| Mr Jessup made a sound of outrage in his throat. | | | | scene in a chapter to force the reader to turn |
| 'To my housekeep, Mrs Parsons,' he continued | | | | immediately to the next chapter, but if he has |
| huffily. 'I leave one thousand pounds. To my | | | | fallen out of thrall he may in disappointment close |
| chauffeur, Ben, I leave the same amount. To my | | | | the book and put it aside. Once you have hold on |
| nephew Henry...' | | | | your reader never let him go. Give him the |
| Mr Jessup paused and glanced in Henry's direction. | | | | satisfaction of seeing the outcome of, say, a fight |
| He seemed nervous, Greg thought. | | | | scene, blood and all. With this satisfaction in his |
| 'To my nephew Henry Penrose,' he went on. 'I | | | | mind he will probably very eagerly and without |
| leave my collection of stamps.' Mr Jessup took a | | | | prompting, turn to the next chapter. |
| quick breath and hurried on. 'This house and the | | | | In the next article we will look at further aspects |
| remainder of my estate I leave to...' | | | | of plotting the novel. |