BIG SCENES: Touch Blue (Post #1)

Dear Allyson,

I’m so happy to be back to StorySleuths after our hiatus this fall. I hope your writing has been going well.

This month, we’re reading Touch Blue by Cynthia Lord, which starts when Tess Brooks and her family bring a foster child named Aaron into their home on the island of Bethsaida, Maine. This is a story about belonging, family, community, and luck.

Speaking of luck, the timing for me to dig into this month’s book couldn’t be more perfect. Touch Blue features several “big scenes” similar to the scene I’m currently writing in my novel.

What is a big scene? Sandra Scofield, author of The Scene Book, describes big scenes as “scenes that have many characters.” These would include parties, weddings, holidays, and other gatherings.

These scenes are difficult to write, even for masters. Here, Scofield shares a snippet from a letter by Gustave Flaubert describing his challenge in creating a scene in Madame Bovary:

“Never in my life have I written anything more difficult than what I am doing now—trivial dialogue. I have to portray, simultaneously and in the same conversation, five or six characters who speak, several others who are spoken about, the scene, and the whole town… and in the midst of all that, I have to show a man and a woman who are beginning… to fall in love with each other…” (Scofield, p. 156). 

A lot to accomplish!

Scofield says that big scenes take as much planning as “the preparation of a huge Christmas dinner, a school play, or any other event that has many components.” Who is there? Where are they? Why have they gathered? What are they doing?

Chapter Two of Touch Blue, Aaron’s arrival on the island, is an ambitious big scene. Let’s step through the scene beat by beat to see how Lord introduces the reader to the characters, the situation, and the island.

1.     Libby and Tess arrive at the crowded wharf.

a.     In a broad stroke, Lord shows us that the entire town is waiting.

b.     Reaction: Tess is annoyed that Eben Calder is there. We get a quick introduction to the antagonist.

2.     While Tess looks through the crowd, she hears snippets of conversation.

a.     We get details about the boat (setting).

b.     The unattributed conversation snippets give the impression of the crowd, plus they provide details about what is happening.

c.     Reaction: Tess reflects on the Hamiltons’ move and its implications.

d.     Her reflection leads her into a flashback that reveals background information about the plan to bring foster children to the island.

3.     Jenna Ross says hi to Tess and they talk.

a.     We meet a potential new friend for Tess.

b.     The conversation reveals more details about the foster children.

c.     Reaction: Tess doesn’t really like Jenna. (Introduction of a story layer)

4.     The passengers disembark. Tess waits. She sees Aaron at last.

a.     Great sensory and setting details emerge from the descriptions of the ferry and passengers (p. 12-13).

b.     We get a first glimpse of Aaron through Tess.

c.     Reaction: Tess is disappointed that Aaron has red hair (unlucky) and looks weak.

d.     Mrs. Coombs’ also comments about Aaron’s appearance.

5.     Dad introduces Aaron to Tess and Libby.

a.     Libby throws herself at Aaron, a direct contrast to Tess’s more restrained approach.

b.     Aaron’s response reveals his own hesitations.

c.     Reaction: Tess is worried that this won’t work out.

d.     More setting details come as the family leaves the wharf, passing a lot full of beater cars.

e.     The scene ends with another wish from Tess—connection to the theme of luck.

The tension in the scene comes from Tess as she moves from a state of excited anticipation to disappointment and worry at Aaron’s appearance. The reader finishes the chapter wondering whether the living arrangements will work out for Aaron and the Brooks.

Chapter Two of Touch Blue is a great example of how much a big scene can accomplish. This chapter is nine pages long, and it provides introductions to all the major characters, establishes the setting, connects to several thematic lines (belonging, community, luck), introduces a story layer (Tess becoming friends with Jenna), establishes stakes, and builds tension.

While the scene is complicated, Lord keeps it highly focused, never letting us lose sight of Tess’s actions and reactions. Nothing in the scene is superfluous. Everything works together.

StorySleuths Tip #98: Sandra Scofield suggests breaking down a big scene into the same elements of a story: beginning-middle-end, with growing tension, a setting, and a shift at the end. Use beats to break the scene down into parts. Make sure that every element contributes something.

Interview with Karen Cushman: Alchemy and Meggy Swann (Post # 7)

We StorySleuths are delighted that Karen Cushman, in addition to being a gifted and prolific writer, is an articulate speaker about her own writing process. Having heard her present at the SCBWI Western Washington SCBWI May meeting, we—along with many others—hope that at some point she will write a book about writing for children. In the meantime, we asked her to respond to some questions about writing Alchemy and Meggy Swann, and she graciously agreed.

1. In your May presentation, you described your writing process as “getting the character from here to there.” You mentioned that on occasion you go back and add action to liven the story up, and we are wondering if you can think of an example where you added action to the story of Meggy to “liven it up.”

The scene in the print shop where the fine gentleman talks to Meggy about the baron and her ballad was at first a short, straightforward give-and-take, but there was no tension or drama in it. Adding more confrontational dialogue and a few actions and gestures heightened the sense of danger and Meggy's anxiety and made the scene much more lively.

2. In the webcast about your writing that was recorded at TOPS school in Seattle in May [NOTE to StorySleuths readers—unfortunately the interview is no longer available online], you mentioned that you find the names of your characters in many sources, including your imagination. One source you mentioned is a book about a queen’s expenses and the names of the trades people recorded there. As a “Meg myself, I’m wondering if Meggy had any special connotations for you? I also wonder if her surname intentionally echoes the image of the ugly ducking who becomes a beautiful swan?

Here's the first answer I wrote to this question: "I wish had thought of the duckling to swan metaphor. I might have made more of it. But I didn't. I played around with ideas for the main characters name to see what sounded and fit her best. She was Bessie Blount at first and progressed through many alterations until I hit upon Meggy Swann. I

liked the sound of it, and Meggy was born." But then I found this comment in an interview I gave about a year ago: "She was Bessie Blunt and then Meggy Blunt and then as I wrote about her, the idea of an ugly duckling growing to be a swan led me to Swann." So there you are. You cannot trust a fiction writer. We make up stories even when we're trying to tell the truth. So which is truth and which the story? Ah, that's another question.

3. You have done a fantastic job of creating characters that are memorable and distinct. Did you have a clear picture of Meggy before you started writing, or did she evolve as the story unfolded?

Meggy definitely grew and changed as the story unfolded. Somewhere about a year into it, I titled a draft "Feisty Meggy," and it was there that I began to make her less meek and pliable and more like the Meggy we know.



And her wabbling came about because she had to have a big, serious, important reason to want to be transformed. I began to research types of disabilities. I had to know exactly what was wrong with Meggy, even though she didn't. I decided she had bilateral hip dysplasia, looked into the effects of that, and practiced walking the way she might have in order to describe it as accurately as I could.

4. What changes and revisions in the text did your editor suggest? Were there changes that your editor suggested that you both decided, after considering them, not to make in the final text?

Dinah thought there should be more focus on romantic feelings between Meggy and Roger. "After all," she said, "Juliet was only 13." Ah, said I, but Juliet is fiction. And I quoted extensively from academic sources that estimated the average age of marriage in the Elizabethan era at 26 for men and 23 for women. Men, after all, had to be able to support a wife and family. And celibacy was the only truly effective means of birth control. So Dinah, with a sigh, gave in.



But she prevailed in her suggestion that I cut some of the description. I wanted to use rollicking, roiling words to describe every house, person, business, piece of flotsam or jetsam in the crazy, chaotic city. She convinced me that enough was enough.



And see also the answer to question 7.

5. There are such rich details in Alchemy and Meggy Swann that set the character very firmly in Elizabethan London. We are curious about the kind of research you did to accomplish this. Did the story change in any way as a direct result of the research you did?

In one of the books I was reading about Elizabethan England, I found references to the vagabond laws. I did more research on them and discovered that even players might be considered vagabonds or outlaws if they did not have some noble patron. And so Grimm and Merryman's troubles were born.



And in another book I found the term "dancing house." More research. I decided to add such a place to the narrative and that led eventually to Meggy's desire to dance and, at the very end, Meggy dancing.



6. Was there is a particular element of writing craft that you struggled with, and if so, how did you overcome it?



Plot. Always plot. I read about writing graphs and narrative arcs and such tools for enlivening a plot. They never seem to fit the story I am trying to tell. I seem to wallow in character and setting and struggle with a plot, with telling versus withholding, with hero versus adversary. I don't think I ever really overcome it. I take my characters and put them into a setting, lay out the trajectory of the story, and go.

7. As writers ourselves we often find ourselves going down a path in the story only to find out that it is not a place that enriches the story as we had hoped and so we cut it. Were there any scenes you wrote that you really loved, but they just didn't fit into the story?

I cut, not without a few tears, the first two chapters, which dealt with Meggy at her village home, the ride into London with her kindly Uncle Ott, and her first impressions of the town. Like this, when they begin to cross the bridge into London: [quote]

What woke her was the stink, a sour stew of fish, sewage, horses, and sweat. Short of Hell, she wondered, what kind of place would smell like this?

Or was it the cursing coming from her uncle on the wagon seat beside her...The wheels as they turned churned the mud and cow droppings on the bridge into a great mucky sludge.

No, it was the muck that woke her, she thought. Certes it was the muck, a wad of which flew up and hit her cheek. Yes, definitely the muck. She wiped her face with her skirt and looked around at the people, animals, and wagons crowded about me. “Is this London then, Uncle?” she asked.

“Ah, no, Meggy, my heart’s love, my lily-faced poppet,” said my uncle. “’Tis but the bridge, the gateway to the wonders that are London.”

“Somewhat unwholesome wonders belike, Uncle,” she said as the turning wheels splashed more muck onto her.[end quote]

Dinah convinced me this all was backstory and the story really started with Meggy in the little house in London bemoaning her fate,

8. Could you share one Writing Tip that you learned in the process of writing Alchemy and Meggy Swann?

Bring action to description. Don't just paint a picture of a scene but put someone doing something into it. Early on, for example, I had many paragraphs describing peddlers on the crowded streets of London. It was great description but lifeless. When I lessened the number of peddlers and had them move and shout and interact with Meggy, they came to life.

Thank you, Karen. For more information about Karen and her books, visit her website.

StorySleuths Tip # 91: With thanks to Karen Cushman: “Bring action to description. Don’t just paint a picture of a scene but put someone doing something into it.”

SCENE ANALYSIS: Where the Mountain Meets the Moon

Dear Heather and Meg,

Among other amazing friends and writers, I saw Julie Larios and Susan Fletcher at a Vermont College reunion yesterday at Golden Gardens in Seattle, and thanked them both again for their luscious contributions to the StorySleuths blog. Anyone who is new to the blog and has not checked them out really should take a peek at Susan’s post on fantasy and Julie’s on poetry in picture books.

Onward to today’s post, which is inspired by a recent critique group session where Cora Grubbs shared with us her approach to figuring out her current novel. She is going scene by scene, looking at how things are flowing and working, and mentioned that, in addition to other things, she is interested in ensuring that there is a value change in each scene.

Value change? She said it was something she’d learned in Robert McKee’s book, Story. Written for screenwriters and filmmakers, it is a craft book with enormous application to the writing of novels. I decided to check it out, and soon found the tidbit Cora had referred to.

On pages 257 – 260 in his book, McKee describes “The Technique of Scene Analysis.” While Cora is applying this five-step process to her own work-in-progress, I decided to apply it to Grace Lin’s marvelous book in an effort to understand more about Lin’s magic, while at the same time learning a technique I might try applying to my own writing.

Here it goes. McKee says, “To analyze a scene, you must slice into its pattern of behaviors at the levels of both text and subtext.” Text, in this case, means what is going on at the surface--what our characters see, hear, say and do. Subtext is what is going on beneath the surface—the character’s true desire, which is something he or she may not be aware of. McKee says, “There’s always a subtext, an inner life that contrasts or contradicts the text.” He points out that in a poorly written scene the author relies on dialogue to show the subtext instead of letting the subtext unfold organically through the characters' actions. He refers to this mistake as writing “on the nose.”

Here is McKee’s five-step process applied to a scene in Where the Mountain Meets the Moon. Note that in Lin’s books the chapters are very short, and are often just a single scene. For this exercise I am looking at Chapter 22. In the previous chapter Minli has discovered that a street beggar is actually the king. Here, she chases after him, finally catching up with, and confronting, him.

Step One: Define Conflict. In this step we examine the character driving the scene (character in this case could be a person, an inanimate object, a force of nature) and ask what that character wants in this scene. Next, look at the source of antagonism in the scene and ask the same question. McKee says, “If the scene is well written, when you compare the . . . desires from each side, you’ll see that they’re in direct conflict—not tangential.”

Now, looking at how this applies to Chapter 22:

The character driving the scene is Minli, and what she wants is to connect with the king so that she can seek his help in accomplishing her quest. The king is the antagonist. He does not wish to have his undercover identity as a street beggar uncovered. The protagonist’s and the antagonist’s desires are in direct conflict.

Step Two: Note Opening Value. Here we are looking at what is the value at stake in this scene. Values could be things like happiness, friendship, freedom, justice. Once we have identified the value at stake, we determine whether that value is in a positive or a negative state.

Naming a value is a challenge for me, and I resorted to looking online for a list of values. Perusing that list I came upon discovery. And I would say that in this scene, discovery for Minli is at a negative state. She wants to meet the king and get his help, but he is eluding her.

Step Three: Break the Scene into Beats. In a scene there are actions, which cause reactions. McKee says, “This exchange of action and reaction is a beat.”

1. In a panic, Minli chases the king—action. The king runs--reaction. Several times she thinks she loses him, but stays on his trail. He disappears behind a hidden door which leads to the palace garden.

2. Minli discovers the king cleaning himself of his beggar disguise. Minli drops to her knees – action. The king responds with kindness – reaction.

3. A parade of servants descend upon them. The king panics and insists that Minli hides – action. Minli hides, making herself as small as possible – reaction.

4. The king is confronted by the hoard. He insists that he has been in the garden the entire time that they were looking for him and demands that this evening they bring him dinner for two in the garden—action. Counselor Chu agrees to comply with the king’s wishes—reaction.

5. When the king insists on dinner for two he glances toward Minli—action. Minli catches his eye and shrinks out of sight—reaction.

6. The crowd leaves. The King invites Minli to come out of hiding—action. Minli crawls out—reaction.

Step Four: Note Closing Value and Compare with Opening Value. Here we move to the end of the scene, and determine whether the charge of the value identified in Step Two has changed or remained the same. If it has stayed the same, the scene has likely fallen flat.

In Chapter 22, discovery has moved to a positive state. As the scene has played out Minli has determined that the beggar is indeed the king, she has made contact with him, and he has invited her to join him in a meal and a conversation.

Step Five: Survey Beats and Locate Turning Point. Look at the beats identified in Step Three to trace the arc of the scene. McKee says, “Within the arc locate the moment when the major gap opens between expectation and result, turning the scene to its changed end values. This precise moment is the Turning Point.”

Beat 4, when the king suggests that Counselor Chu bring two evening meals, is a Turning Point. Minli’s expectation is that she should get to have a conversation with the king to plea her case. Here, the king indicates that he is going to be taking a meal with her, opening the way for her to tell him what she is after.

In summary, McKee says, “Ill-written scenes may lack conflict because desires are not opposed, may be antiprogressive because they’re repetitious or circular, lopsided because their Turning Points come too early or too late, or lacking because dialogue and action are 'on the nose.' But analysis of a problematic scene that tests beats against scene objectives, altering behavior to fit desire or desire to fit behavior, will lead to a rewrite that brings the scene to life.”

Here, I have looked at a scene that works. The conflict is clear, the beats each have an action and a reaction. The scene has an arc with a clear turning point, and a value, which transitions from negative to positive by the scene’s end. While I do not believe I would feel compelled to do this for every scene in my novel, I can see that it could be very useful in analyzing scenes that fall flat. Thank you, Cora, for turning me on to this!

StorySleuths Tip #73: When a scene is falling flat, consider using Robert McKee’s Technique of Scene Analysis to locate problems and determine how to best fix them.

SUMMARY: Geektastic

Dear Heather and Meg,

I loved Heather’s recent post about scene where, following a terrific quote by Jordan Rosenfeld, Heather made the point:

scenes are moments of action, shown to the reader, not told. Each scene has a purpose (the Goal), conflict (Obstacles) and an ending (the Disaster).

This got me thinking about juxtaposition in a short story or a novel. Is it always scene after scene after scene? Is there any kind of glue that holds those scenes together? While closely reading M.T. Anderson’s story “The King of Pelinesse” in Geektastic I looked at each discrete chunk of story to see whether they met the definition of a scene as described by Rosenfeld and by Heather. Was each a moment of action shown not told to the reader? Was there a clearly discernable purpose? A conflict? An ending?

It became clear to me that a story is more than just a string of scenes. In between those moments taking place in the now I saw that Anderson interspersed bits of summary, telling rather than showing. These summaries felt like an opportunity for the writer to take a breath and either reflect on events that have led to the current moment, or set up what is about to come.

I looked to see what Janet Burroway had to say on the subject, and here is what I found in her book Imaginative Writing: Elements of Craft. Burroway talks about the difference between scene and summary, and the roles each play in a story. She defines these two elements thus:

A summary covers a relatively long period of time in a relatively short compass; a scene deals at length with a relatively short period of time. (p. 276)

This makes sense to me. Scene is in the moment, it is now. It is the actual unfolding of events. Summary, on the other hand, is just that, a summation of what has led to or resulted from moment.

Burroway explains that summary is often necessary, and is useful, but is not essential. Scene, on the other hand, is essential, because it is scene where users have the opportunity to experience the story as it is happening to the character. She points out that an error beginning writers make is to rely too heavily on summary, denying the reader the opportunity to experience significant moments through the characters’ senses.

Anderson uses scene far more than summary (no beginning writer, he!). Even when flashing back, a typical use for summary, he gives just the briefest summary to set the scene, then drops the character into the moment, allowing the reader to be there with him.

Here, on page 118, Anderson uses summary to set up a bit of backstory about how the main character came to be in Boothbay Harbor:

I had looked up the address on a map, and I had drawn a little version of it on a piece of school paper. It didn’t look like it was far. I walked out of the town center, and along a road that led past ridges of some kind of needly tree, like pines or firs or spruce. I don’t know the difference between them. A couple of years ago I tried to find out the difference from a book, but all the pictures looked exactly the same.

Consider the differences between this and a piece of a scene:

I pointed my foot at a wicker chair, and asked if I could please sit down.

He said, ‘Kid, I’ve got Caelwin tied to a pillar, with a pterodactyl shrieking and coming to feast its unholy beak upon his numbles.’

I went over to the wicker chair anyway and sat. I stared at the floor. I felt very weak. (p. 120)

The scene is here and now, we are with him watching things unfold through his eyes and experiencing his emotions. It is showing. The summary covers a greater passing of time—it is telling.

Characters grow and change through the action that takes place in scenes. Summary, on the other hand, is used as a stepping stone between scenes, a mechanism to bring the character to the time and place when those changes will occur, with the reader fully present.

StorySleuths Tip #41: Use scenes to show action and emotion happening in the now, and summary to describe (tell) occurrences that transpired over a longer period of time.