In the preface to their recently published writing guide, Writer's Companion, Carlos J Cortés and Renée Miller state, “we set out to compile everything a creative writer needs to write well into a single reference volume.” Open Book is posting , “The Nuts & Bolts," the first chapter of the guide, in sections from December 2011 to February 2012.
Check out Carlos and Renée's online writing community, On Fiction Writing, a website that is “dedicated to writers who are serious about improving their craft and helping other writers to do the same.”
CONTEST: To enter our contest to win an e-copy of Writer's Companion, send an email to clelia@openbookontario.com with the subject line “Writer's Companion.” A winner's name will be selected in a draw each month.
Read Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six and Part Seven of "The Nuts and Bolts."
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STRUCTURE / PARTS (continued)
1.5.3 Preface
The preface is an introduction (short) written before the body of the book by the work’s writer, to provide the reader with significant information, background, or explanatory remarks about its contents.
The term “preface” can also mean any preliminary or introductory statement to cover the story of how the book came into being, or how the idea for the book developed.
In Mahdi, Carlos J. Cortes faced the problem of acquainting the readers with the meaning of an unfamiliar title.
“Although the Qur’an doesn’t mention the Mahdi, the ‘Guided One’ is a well-known figure in Islamic cultures. According to tradition, the Mahdi will appear at the end of time to combat unbelievers and the forces of evil. Islamic scholars have posited the Mahdi is a myth. Yet, most Muslims throughout history have accepted the idea of an eschatological deliverer known as the Mahdi.”
Prefaces are often followed by thanks and acknowledgments to people who were helpful to the author during the time of writing.
1.5.3.1 Preface Development
A preface should feature background, preliminary, or historical content, the book’s scope, and/or the intentions of the author, by answering one or more of the following questions: Why this book? Why now? What is the context? Who is this person? Why this author?
This is the space to explain how the writer acquired the information or provide a framework for what’s to follow, or deliver, in brief, the main argument or point of view about the subject.
If there are conclusions to be made, viewpoints, or caveats, it’s advisable to express them with more detail in a postscript.
1.5.4 Scene
As discussed in the opening to this section, the scene is the building block of fiction writing. Rather than tackling a gargantuan task — often spanning hundreds of pages, or even several books in sagas and sequels — most writers concentrate on one scene at a time, a manageable piece of prose that is subject to the unforgiving rules of structure.
Beginning writers have many doubts about scenes, most of them legitimate. Let’s open with a few:
Q. What is a scene?
A. A unit of action or event in a set environment and with a set number of characters.
Q. How long is a scene?
A. As long as necessary, from one or two lines to many pages.
Q. How many characters in a scene?
A. As few as possible.
Q. How many scenes in a novel-length manuscript?
A. How long is a piece of string? Banter aside, between 150 and 300 on average.
Q. Do scenes have structure?
A. They do, and the rest of this section will attempt to answer this question more fully.
Q. What is a good scene?
A. One that moves the plot forward.
Q. And a bad scene?
A. Filler.
A brick wall is made from bricks. We know this sounds trite, but great truths are. Height, breadth, length, color, design, and embellishments (such as coping pieces) are physical characteristics and features of a wall. But the unit of reference, the element craftsmen use to build walls, is the brick.
Often, when we appraise a brick wall, we ignore the bricks. Instead, our eye takes in its features, and abstract sensations like strength or security. And yet, regardless of its scope, the builder started his wall with a single brick, followed by another, and another....
Good writers write scenes; scenes are the units of fiction writing as bricks are units of masonry.
We have concluded that a significant difference between professional writers and hobbyists is their understanding of the scene’s role in fiction.
Though we’ll cover the finer points of scene structure in the following sections, we must stress a single detail before we go any further: every scene must have a goal.
Before writing a single word, answer the question: what’s this scene’s role?
If the answers are to describe, to set the scene, to explain or (horror of horrors) because I like it, the scene should never be written. Of course, description, setting, color, explanation, and back-story belong in scenes, but only if the scene has the definite goal to advance the plot.
‘Imagine we have a story with the following plot:
Mary awakens, showers, eats breakfast, drives to the office, and plunges into a pile of manuscripts awaiting rejection.
How many scenes are necessary to cover these events? There can be a single scene or a score, and the answer will depend on what is “necessary.”
Mary awakens. Nothing unusual here, everybody does. No scene.
Mary showers. So? No scene.
Mary eats breakfast. A healthy habit but no scene.
Mary drives to the office. Don’t we all? No scene.
Mary plunges into a pile of manuscripts awaiting rejection.
This is better. Her work must be connected with publishing, she’s not the boss (the manuscripts would have been pruned by someone else), and the material awaiting her tender mercies is ghastly. This gives the reader more information about Mary than anything else thus far.
At this point, we hope the manuscript sorting has a bearing to the story or advances it. Otherwise, there’s no reason for it. “But I need to get Mary behind her desk! I can’t make her materialize out of thin air!” the writer cries.
It’s easy. Stitch these events into the opening of the next “real” scene:
Mary runs into the office cursing the traffic, runs the fingers of one hand through her still-damp hair and stifles a belch. “Damn corn-flakes,” before sitting behind her desk to stare cross-eyed at a pile of manuscripts.
Of course, the story (not the writer) may need each of those scenes. Let’s return to the point when the alarm clock goes off.
Mary awakens. “What the...?” Throws the comforter aside. Her legs are covered in two-inch black hairs. Ear-splitting scream. This definitely needs a scene. We would love to write it.
Mary showers. A strawberry blonde, she’s aghast. Hers legs resemble fringed rodeo chaps. She tries plucking, shaving, and trimming with the garden shears to no avail. Nice scene.
Mary eats breakfast. She doesn’t, really. Between bouts of cursing, tears, and trying to encase her leg’s exuberance into the largest pants she can find all she managed was a cup of coffee. But great scene material.
Mary drives to the office. The hair continues to grow, spilling out her trouser bottoms. She almost kills herself when her tresses foul the brake pedal. A hair-raising scene.
Mary plunges into a pile of manuscripts awaiting rejection. A title catches her eye. ‘Mary’s Wild Legs.’
Is a scene absolutely necessary? No? Delete, tear, destroy or, better still (and much less work) don’t write it.
Scenes are like takes on a film. From a static or moving camera, the director follows the action until the characters move away. Perhaps a second unit takes over for continuity but, if the action moves to a different environment, the scene is over.
It’s no coincidence that most novel-writing and structuring software uses scenes as the basic building blocks. Scenes are moved into chapters later in the writing process.
Once the writer has plotted the novel, however loosely, the resulting events or plot points will be written as scenes. Depending on the level of structure chosen by the writer, the number of set scenes at this point may be only a handful. This doesn’t represent a problem because the plot will often provide automatic scenes. If the mad shaman is after the heroine at A and she must flee to B, a scene or two may be required to explain how she managed a trip to Vienna with furry legs and without a cent (the shaman stole her purse).
Every scene in a work of fiction must advance the plot and/or deepen characterization. In other words: stories are written in scenes, not in exposition. A scene must be conceived with a purpose (the goal) and contain conflicts or resolutions that tell us something new about the plot or the characters.
If it doesn’t accomplish its goals, then the scene has no reason to be in a novel. It’s filler.
A scene, singly or in pairs (more about this in the Scene Development section), is a unit of prose. As such, it requires the same internal divisions. A book has a beginning, middle, and end, and so does every scene. Just as we construct chapter ends with cliffhangers, to keep the reader turning pages, the end of a scene should coax the reader into reading the next paragraph or chapter.
A scene has two levels of structure: Macro-structure and Micro-structure.
Think of a car. The Macro-structure in a scene comprises essentials like bodywork, wheels, and engine, and every car has these. A scene’s Micro-structure deals with the elements without which the major components won’t work, like paint, air, or gas. Bodywork without paint doesn’t shine; it’s a rust bucket. Tires without air are flat, and an engine without gas doesn’t run.
"The Nuts & Bolts" is an excerpt from Writer's Companion (2011) by Carlos J Cortés and Renée Miller. Reprinted with permission.
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