#Scene Writing

[nanowrimo]

5 Essential Tips for Mastering Scene Writing in Your Novel

There's many parts involved when writing a scene. Knowing how these different pieces work together may help you move forward in your novel. NaNo Participant Amy de la Force offers some tips on brushing up your scene writing knowledge. Scenes are the building blocks of a novel, the stages where characters spring to life, conflicts brew and emotions run high. Mastering the art of scene writing is crucial for any aspiring writer, especially in the lead-up to NaNoWriMo. But what is a scene, and how do you effectively craft one? 

What is a Scene? 

A scene is a short period of time — in a set place — that moves the story forward with dramatic conflict that reveals character, generally through dialogue or action. Think of writing a scene as a mini-story with a beginning, middle and end, all contributing to the narrative. 

Why Scene Writing is Your Secret Weapon in Storytelling

Well-crafted scenes enhance your story to develop characters, advance the plot, and engage readers through tension and emotion. Whether you're writing a novel, short story or even non-fiction, scenes weave the threads of your story together.

Tip #1: Scenes vs. Sequels

According to university lecturer Dwight Swain in Techniques of the Selling Writer, narrative time can be broken down into not just scenes, but sequels. 

Scene

The 3 parts of a scene are:

Goal: The protagonist or point-of-view (POV) character’s objective at the start of the scene.

Conflict: For dramatic conflict, this is an equally strong combination of the character’s ‘want + obstacle’ to their goal. 

Disaster: When the obstacle wins, it forces the character’s hand to act, ratcheting up tension. 

Sequel 

Similarly, Swain’s sequels have 3 parts:

Reaction: This is the POV character’s emotional follow-up to the previous scene’s disaster. 

Dilemma: If the dramatic conflict is strong enough, each possible next step seems worse than anything the character has faced.  

Decision: The scene’s goal may still apply, but the choice of action to meet it will be difficult. 

Tip #2: Questions to Ask Yourself Before Writing a Scene

In Story Genius, story coach and ex–literary agent Lisa Cron lists 4 questions to guide you in scene writing:

What does my POV character go into the scene believing?

Why do they believe it?

What is my character’s goal in the scene?

What does my character expect will happen in this scene?

Tip #3: Writing Opening and Closing Scenes

Now that we know more about scene structure and character considerations, it’s time to open with a bang, or more to the point, a hook. Forget warming up and write a scene in the middle of the action or a conversation. Don’t forget to set the place and time with a vivid description or a little world-building. To end the scene, go for something that resolves the current tension, or a cliffhanger to make your scene or chapter ‘unputdownable’. 

Tip #4: Mastering Tension and Pacing 

A benefit to Swain’s scenes and sequels is that introspective sequels tend to balance the pace by slowing it, building tension. This pacing variation, which you can help by alternating dialogue with action or sentence lengths, offers readers the mental quiet space to rest and digest any action-packed scenes. 

Tip #5: Scene Writing for Emotional Impact

For writing a scene, the top tips from master editor Sol Stein in Stein on Writing are:

Fiction evokes emotion, so make a list of the emotion(s) you want readers to feel in your scenes and work to that list.

For editing, cut scenes that don’t serve a purpose (ideally, several purposes), or make you feel bored. If you are, your reader is too. 

Conclusion

From understanding the anatomy of a scene to writing your own, these tips will help elevate your scenes from good to unforgettable, so you can resonate with readers.

Amy de la Force is a YA and adult speculative fiction writer, alumna of Curtis Brown Creative's selective novel-writing program and Society of Authors member. The novel she’s querying longlisted for Voyage YA’s Spring First Chapters Contest in 2021. An Aussie expat, Amy lives in London. Check her out on Twitter, Bluesky, and on her website! Her books can be found on Amazon. Photo by cottonbro studio

[vivsinkpot]

Hi, Vivienne! I am trying to write a story with a four-person rock band, but I am having a lot of trouble writing about how they converse/interact with each other when writing their songs. They are all in the same room coming up with the music, but I can't figure out how they would talk to each other. Any advice on this?

Thanks!

Mic Drops & Mood Swings: Bringing Your Band’s Songwriting to Life

First of all I want to extend a huge thanks to you for sending in my very first inbox request — you made my day! 🎉 I absolutely love answering questions and diving into all the creative stuff you’re curious about, so please don’t be shy. If you’ve got a burning writing question, story idea, or just want some advice, slide into my inbox anytime. Can’t wait to hear from more of you! 💌✨

Songwriting scenes can be super powerful because they reveal not just the creative process, but the personalities, tensions, and bonds within a band. When writing how band members interact while creating songs, consider these key points:

1. Showcase Individual Roles & Strengths

Each member brings something unique—whether it’s lyrics, melodies, rhythms, or ideas. Portray how they naturally take on these roles. For example, one might be the lyricist, another the melody maker, while another focuses on arrangement or beats. Their strengths shape how they communicate and collaborate.

Example:

Jax tapped out a beat on the drum pad while Mira hummed a melody. “This chorus needs your voice to lift it,” Jax said, nodding at Mira. She smiled, fingers ready on the keys.

2. Use Dialogue to Reveal Personality

Songwriting sessions often bubble with playful teasing, frustration, encouragement, or inspiration. Use realistic, casual dialogue to capture this — like interruptions, unfinished ideas, disagreements about style or direction, and moments of “aha!” discovery. This makes the scene feel lived-in and dynamic.

Example:

“That lyric’s too cheesy,” Leo teased, smirking. “No, it’s poetic!” Eva shot back, rolling her eyes.“Alright, how about we rewrite it together?”

3. Highlight Creative Tension & Compromise

Bands rarely agree on everything. Conflicts—whether subtle or heated—add depth. Maybe one wants to keep a song raw, another wants it polished. Showing their negotiation, occasional stubbornness, or compromise mirrors real-life artistic struggles.

Example:

“I want it raw, unpolished,” said Ash. “But we need something radio-friendly,” replied Sam. They stared at each other, then Sam grinned, “Okay, raw energy with a catchy hook?”

4. Describe the Atmosphere & Setting

Whether it’s a cramped garage, a cozy studio, or a sunlit living room, set the scene with sensory details — guitars tuning, coffee cups clinking, scribbled notes, late-night fatigue. This grounds readers in the space where creation happens, which is equally as important to break up dialogue.

Example:

The cramped basement smelled of old pizza boxes and sweat. Strings hummed under trembling fingers as sunlight filtered through dusty blinds.

5. Incorporate Nonverbal Communication

Bandmates often understand each other without words—exchanging glances, nods, riffs played quietly under breath, or smiles at a good line. These moments show trust and connection, or sometimes frustration and distance.

Example:

Without a word, Nina raised an eyebrow, and Max grinned back, fingers flying over the guitar strings.

6. Show Progress in Small Steps

Songwriting is rarely instant magic. Portray the gradual build—messing with chords, repeated lines, scraps of lyrics on napkins, reworking a chorus. This process mirrors real life and makes the final song feel earned.

Example:

The chorus still felt off. They rewrote the second line for the fifth time, laughter mixing with frustration.

7. Tie the Song to Emotions & Relationships

Songs often reflect what’s going on between band members or in their personal lives. Use the songwriting process to subtly explore these emotional undercurrents — unspoken feelings, unresolved tension, shared dreams.

Example:

As the melody swelled, so did the unspoken tension between them — notes filled with everything they couldn’t say aloud.

In conclusion…remember, while dialogue is a fantastic way to reveal character and drive the songwriting scene, don’t forget to balance it with unspoken moments—glances, gestures, silences, and the small details in the room. These quieter beats add depth, showing the emotions beneath the words and the unique connections (or tensions) between bandmates. It’s in the space between the lines that a scene truly comes alive.

By layering personalities, conflicts, and atmosphere, your songwriting scenes will come alive and reveal the heart of the band, not just their music.

[riinawriter]

📣 NEW PROJECT ALERT – Chapter Editing is HERE! ✨✍️

Hey writers!! I’m so excited to finally launch something I’ve been working on for a while—Personal Chapter Editing for all my paid Patreon members!

If you’ve ever wanted someone to go line-by-line through your work and give you feedback on emotion, pacing, prose, dialogue, or just help you tighten your chapter—this is for YOU. 💛

Here’s how it works:

📝 You submit a chapter (up to 2,000 words)

🖋 I’ll edit it with detailed feedback on what’s working, what needs more depth, and how to make it stronger

⏳ You get it back within 7–10 days!

🔗 Submit your chapter HERE

📌 Join my Patreon to access HERE

This is ONLY available to paid members, so if you’re not already in, now’s the time to join! Can’t wait to dive into your stories and help you grow as a writer! ✨📚

[ajwardens]

Death of the Dragonflies, Story Snippet

Fallon crouched low, her muscles coiled like springs, ready to bolt. Nestled in the tangled arms of the lilac bush, where bright, downy leaves fluttered in a dance, she eyed the makeshift starting line she had carved into the grass. The breeze whispered secrets, warm and thick, carrying hints of crushed grass and sunbaked earth. Clouds waltzed across the sky’s endless blue, as if drawn by an unseen hand. On her signal, the race of their lives would start.

A group of children gathered around Fallon. Their breaths held tight, and bodies coiled with a shared anticipation that hummed in the roots beneath them. Adults on the sidewalk murmured to themselves. Their disapproving tones clear indicators of their loss of joy and mischief.

The hill sloped before them, green and wild, sweeping down toward the group home’s backyard—a slope both untamed and inviting, daring them to test its heights and race its steep descent. For Fallon, the hill was a path woven with possibility, alive with the thrill of the chase that lay waiting just beyond the brush.

“Do you see Hank?” Fallon asked over her shoulder.

Half-hidden by the bush, Henry leaned forward, his tall, wiry frame catching the slant of afternoon light. He stood still, but there was a quiet readiness in the line of his shoulders, the kind of focus that made him appear a part of the landscape—he was alert, waiting for something just beyond the edge of sight.

His thumbs were tucked into his pockets, hands steady, relaxed—a contrast to the hungry look in his face, where sharp cheekbones cut the soft breeze. A tousled mop of dark hair fell over his brow, hiding the blue eyes that tracked every shift on the hill, sharp as flint.

Henry’s lips curved, a faint, crooked smile that flickered like a shadow in sunlight.

“I don’t see him,” he said, words rolling out low and quiet, no more than a breath. The smile lingered in his eyes for a heartbeat, then vanished like the flick of a barn mouse’s tail disappearing into the hay.

Fallon turned to the sea of bright eyes and restless limbs; a dozen little sparks held in place by thin string. “Alright, you know the rules,” Fallon said. “Fast and quick. Don’t let Hank catch you. First one down the hill, dry as a bone, wins.”

A thrill rippled through the group, spreading like lightning in a summer storm. Tiny hands gripped fists of grass, feet shuffled, and muffled giggles escaped like bubbles rising from a hidden spring.

The hillside hummed in answer, buzzing with their anticipation, each child a live wire, breath held, ready to release the energy coiled in their small, eager frames.

“On your mark,” Fallon whispered, knees hovering just above the earth. Her weight shifted to the edge of her toes, coiled and ready. Her fingers splayed, pressing deep into the cool dampness of soil, nails scraping the dirt, seeking a grip on something steady.

“Get set.”

Henry crouched low, muscles taut, tension coiled like a spring about to release. He pulled his hands from his pockets, expanding his fingers on the concrete sidewalk. His eyes locked forward, unwavering, tracing the path down the hill with a focus sharpened by silence.

A spark flared deep in her chest, fanning into a fierce thrill—a drive not just to win, but to give the kids a race that would burst open the quiet spaces of their small-town lives. She wanted them to feel it, that reckless, wild freedom that pulsed in her veins.

In a town like Stone Brook, excitement didn’t come served up but had to be dug out of dusty corners and hidden places. This was the sort of race they’d talk about later, voices breathless, eyes wide, reliving each heartbeat as if it were happening all over again.

The distant green door, chipped and faded, filled her sight—every scratch and flake of paint pulled her closer, the world narrowing until only the door remained—a singular, unwavering goal. Fallon’s muscles tightened, every part of her aligned toward that weathered frame at the end of the hill.

In the space between safety and recklessness, nothing else existed—not the laughter behind, nor the hum of leaves, just the door, steady and inviting, waiting for the burst of movement that would bridge the space between them.

“Go!”

[derangedthots]

i have a particular fondness for scenes in media that read like sex scenes even tho no sex is actually happening...which is also why the last jacemond scene in ch1 of CTF is one of my fav things i've ever written😶‍🌫️🥰

[andrewmfriday]

One Way to Write a Scene

Try Layering in Each Fiction Element

Photo by Janelle Welch

So, I’m doing this thing where I am writing the rough draft in a special way: pseudo screenplay.

I recommend doing this if you are having trouble getting the scene started. Otherwise, I recommend writing the scene in a normal fashion, a linear development. If that does not work, try to layer in each fiction element one at a time.

Just for preview: Start with dialogue. Add some action. Add a setting description at the beginning. Sprinkle in the sensory details. Add some body language and facial details. Add some inner dialogue. Add some internal sensations. Add some backstory if necessary.

I’m start off by writing just dialogue between characters. Just begin anywhere in the scene, especially a part where you know what is going to happen. It can even be smack in the middle — the idea is to just get it going. You don’t have to write the entire conversation of the scene unless you want to. You can go back and add more later if needed. This is to just prime the pump. 

It looks like this (not my real project; it’s just a corny example):

Tessa: I can’t believe you would betray me like this. You’re my sister.

Nita: Oh, please. You’ve done worse to me over the years.

Next, I’ll add some action (new stuff in italic):

Tessa picked up a knife from the counter and pointed it at Nita.

Tessa: I can’t believe you would betray me like this. You’re my sister.

She gestured the knife toward Nita to emphasize each word.

Nita shaked her head and smirked at her older sister.

Nita: Oh, please. You’ve done worse to me over the years.

Nita picked up the baseball base leaning against the wall. It was her son’s.

I add in some description of the setting at the beginning of the scene, so the readers feel anchored. I also add more action and dialogue as necessary:

The seven o’clock shadows of the Monday evening stretched through the window and the screen door of Nita’s kitchen. She sat at the table, snarfing down the sugar free chocolate striped cookies.

The kitchen’s screen door flew open and banged against the wall. Nita dropped her cookie onto the tabletop. 

Tessa: You hussy.

Tessa picked up a knife from the counter and pointed it at Nita. 

Tessa: I can’t believe you would betray me like this. You’re my sister.

She gestured the knife toward Nita to emphasize each word.

Nita shaked her head and smirked at her older sister. 

Nita: Oh, please. You’ve done worse to me over the years.

Nita picked up the baseball base leaning against the wall. It was her son’s. 

Be sure to add in examples of the five senses. I’ve already done a little of this (i.e. ‘banged’) This helps the reader feel like they are there as the scene unfolds:

The seven o’clock shadows of the Monday evening stretched through the window and the screen door of Nita’s kitchen. The smell of the neighbor’s cut grass permeated the air. In the distance, she heard Mrs. Allen’s pomeranian yipping to be let back in.

Nita sat at the table, snarfing down the sugar free chocolate striped cookies. The munching and groan of pleasure from Nita filled the kitchen and the entire house.

The kitchen’s screen door flew open and banged against the wall. Nita screeched and dropped her cookie onto the tabletop. 

Tessa stood for several seconds just panting. She reached up a hand and pointed at her sister.

Tessa: You hussy.

Tessa picked up a knife from the counter and pointed it at Nita. The expression on her face is almost agony. 

Tessa: I can’t believe you would betray me like this. You’re my sister.

She gestured the knife toward Nita to emphasize each word.

Nita shaked her head and smirked at her older sister. 

Nita: Oh, please. You’ve done worse to me over the years.

With a clank, Nita picked up the metal baseball base leaning against the wall. It was her son’s. 

Next, I focus on body language and facial expressions. I’ve already done a little bit of this, but I look for more opportunities:

The seven o’clock shadows of the Monday evening stretched through the window and the screen door of Nita’s kitchen. The smell of the neighbor’s cut grass permeated the air. In the distance, she heard Mrs. Allen’s pomeranian yipping to be let back in.

Nita sat at the table, snarfing down the sugar free chocolate striped cookies. She closed her eyes. The munching and groan of pleasure from Nita filled the kitchen and the entire house.

The kitchen’s screen door flew open and banged against the wall. Nita screeched and  dropped her cookie onto the tabletop. Eyes wide, she grit her teeth.

Tessa stood for several seconds just panting. She reached up a hand and pointed at her sister. The expression on her face was almost agony. 

Tessa: You hussy.

Tessa picked up a knife from the counter and pointed it at Nita. The expression on her face is almost agony. 

Tessa: I can’t believe you would betray me like this. You’re my sister.

She gestured the knife toward Nita to emphasize each word.

Nita shaked her head and smirked at her older sister. 

Nita: Oh, please. You’ve done worse to me over the years.

With a clank, Nita picked up the metal baseball base leaning against the wall. It was her son’s. She raised the bat and jutted out her chin in defiance.

So far, I've layered in external fiction elements. They show what is happening on the surface. Now it’s time to start layering internal ingredients like inner monologue. Inner monologue should only belong to the point-of-view character of the scene.

The seven o’clock shadows of the Monday evening stretched through the window and the screen door of Nita’s kitchen. The smell of the neighbor’s cut grass permeated the air. In the distance, she heard Mrs. Allen’s Pomeranian yipping to be let back in.

Stupid dog, thought Nita. But I’m not going to let it spoil my evening. I have three or four hours to myself and mama is going to enjoy them.

Nita sat at the table, snarfing down the sugar free chocolate striped cookies. She closed her eyes. The munching and groan of pleasure from Nita filled the kitchen and the entire house.

The kitchen’s screen door flew open and banged against the wall. Nita screeched and  dropped her cookie onto the tabletop. Eyes wide, she grit her teeth.

Oh, no. She found out. But, who told her?

Tessa stood for several seconds just panting. She reached up a hand and pointed at her sister.

Tessa: You hussy.

Tessa picked up a knife from the counter and pointed it at Nita. The expression on her face was almost agony. 

Tessa: I can’t believe you would betray me like this. You’re my sister.

She gestured the knife toward Nita to emphasize each word.

Such the drama queen. No surprise there. Just keep your cool.

Nita shaked her head and smirked at her older sister. 

Nita: Oh, please. You’ve done worse to me over the years.

She doesn’t mean it with that knife. But just in case.

With a clank, Nita picked up the metal baseball base leaning against the wall. It was her son’s. She raised the bat and jutted out her chin in defiance.

Now, adds internal sensations only the point-of-view character would feel:

The seven o’clock shadows of the Monday evening stretched through the window and the screen door of Nita’s kitchen. The smell of the neighbor’s cut grass permeated the air. In the distance, she heard Mrs. Allen’s pomeranian yipping to be let back in.

Stupid dog, thought Nita. But I’m not going to let it spoil my evening. I have three or four hours to myself and mama is going to enjoy them.

Nita sat at the table, snarfing down the sugar free chocolate striped cookies. She closed her eyes. The munching and groan of pleasure from Nita filled the kitchen and the entire house.

The kitchen’s screen door flew open and banged against the wall. Nita screeched and  dropped her cookie onto the tabletop. Eyes wide, she grit her teeth.

Oh, no. She found out. But, who told her?

Tessa stood for several seconds just panting. She reached up a hand and pointed at her sister.

Tessa: You hussy.

Tessa picked up a knife from the counter and pointed it at Nita. The expression on her face was almost agony. 

Tessa: I can’t believe you would betray me like this. You’re my sister.

She gestured the knife toward Nita to emphasize each word.

Such the drama queen. No surprise there. Just keep your cool.

Nita shaked her head and smirked at her older sister. Her head started to pound.

Nita: Oh, please. You’ve done worse to me over the years.

She doesn’t mean it with that knife. But just in case. An icy sensation splashed. Nita’s stomach.

With a clank, Nita picked up the metal baseball base leaning against the wall. It was her son’s. She raised the bat and jutted out her chin in defiance.

Finally, add in some backstory if the opportunity allows it. Backstory is most effective if it helps further the reader’s understanding of what’s currently going on. Also, it doesn’t have to be a bunch of paragraphs of history about the character. Sometimes, one or two sentences layered in can be effective:

The seven o’clock shadows of the Monday evening stretched through the window and the screen door of Nita’s kitchen. The smell of the neighbor’s cut grass permeated the air. In the distance, she heard Mrs. Allen’s Pomeranian yipping to be let back in.

Stupid dog, thought Nita. But I’m not going to let it spoil my evening. I have three or four hours to myself and mama is going to enjoy them.

Nita sat at the table, snarfing down the sugar free chocolate striped cookies. She closed her eyes. The munching and groan of pleasure from Nita filled the kitchen and the entire house.

The kitchen’s screen door flew open and banged against the wall. Nita screeched and  dropped her cookie onto the tabletop. Eyes wide, she grit her teeth.

Oh, no. She found out. But, who told her?

Tessa stood for several seconds just panting. She reached up a hand and pointed at her sister.

Tessa: You hussy.

Tessa picked up a knife from the counter and pointed it at Nita. The expression on her face was almost agony. 

Tessa: I can’t believe you would betray me like this. You’re my sister.

She gestured the knife toward Nita to emphasize each word.

Such the drama queen. No surprise there.

Seeing Tessa standing there with a knife reminded Nita of years ago. That time when her older sister held her John Meyer poster in both hands, wore the same angry look, and threatened to rip it in half. Over a boy? Nita could not remember. But she remembered that Tessa did not have the guts to actually do it. Mainly because Nita could beat her up. But is Tessa bluffing now?

Just keep your cool.

Nita shaked her head and smirked at her older sister. Her head started to pound.

Nita: Oh, please. You’ve done worse to me over the years.

She doesn’t mean it with that knife. But just in case. An icy sensation splashed. Nita’s stomach.

With a clank, Nita picked up the metal baseball base leaning against the wall. It was her son’s. She raised the bat and jutted out her chin in defiance.

Rinse and repeat. Start over with more dialogue, action and everything else until you feel the scene is finished. 

If you want, you can do some minor cleaning up. I don’t mean editing, but mostly format stuff. Like fixing the dialogue tags so your scene looks less like a screenplay and more like a novel. For example:

Nita: Oh, please. You’ve done worse to me over the years.

“Oh, please,” said Nita. “You’ve done worse to me over the years.”

If your goal is to get a rough draft in a short period of time, even small editing can wait. It depends upon your goals. In the end, the hope is that you have a rough draft of your scene as quickly as possible. It doesn’t have to be perfect, of course. It’s just something for the writer to come back to and improve. We have to start somewhere, right?

Just for review: Start with dialogue. Add some action. Add a setting description at the beginning. Sprinkle in the sensory details. Add some body language and facial details. Add some inner dialogue. Add some internal sensations. Add some backstory if necessary.

[winterlilyswwritings]

Emily is Saved by a Bird

Somewhere in the woods a corpse was lying on the ground.

It was wearing a torn blood soaked white t-shirt. There was a large hole in its chest where someone had left a branch embedded in its chest. Its head was hanging onto its neck by barely an inch of skin and its glassy eyes were staring at the night sky. One of its arms was bent backwards at an angle entirely incompatible with its bones and the other rested by its side.

There was a long golden needle with a golden flower at one end stabbed into the corpse's stomach.

The corpse lay there undisturbed by scavengers and wildlife for a long while. The needle glowed softly in the night, warning the animals the corpse was steeped in evil magic.

Near dusk a magpie flew by and spotted the shiny golden needle. He landed near the corpse and walked in circles around it, steeling itself to brave the scent of unnatural magic and death that still lingered in the area. He hopped up on the corpse and pecked at its stomach, and then pulled the needle out and proudly strut in a circle with the pretty thing in its beak.

Suddenly the corpse twitched, and the magpie immediately hopped back, the needle slipping out of his grasp and landing by the corpse's hand. It slowly raised that hand, and then gently waved at the bird. Then it picked up the needle and held it out for him to take. The magpie cautiously approached the corpse and grabbed the needle, quickly flying away.

Emily watched the magpie fly away and smiled. She wished it well. It was going to be a long night before she could get herself out of this ditch but she wasn't going to die.

She might not be alive, but she wasn't quite dead yet.

[annie-angelp]

Sneak peek into the script of New York Maifa Rats.

[adam-n-dog]

Adam is sitting (Somewhat? He is upside down, with his feet over the back) on the sofa.

He tosses a small ball up and down as Dog watches with interest. He had been writing names, but he was still a teenage boy, and that being said, one who's attention span was not the longest.

Adam looked over the people in the room and frowned. Not a sad frown, but a thoughtful one.

He looked back down at Dog, who cocked his head.

"What even would happen if we brought back dinosaurs?"

[gildedbearediting]

Writing Exercise: Setting = Character

We’re in the last leg of the cue card exercises that I’ve got, and today’s exercise deals with characters and their setting. Specifically, how the character and setting can be intertwined. I’ve previously gone over this in my post, A Look At: Character and Setting. Ethel Wilson, George Bowering, and Sinclair Ross being three authors that tackle characters and their setting. With one character…

[snugglesquiggle]

What Does it Take to (Re)Write a Scene?

new essay's out: Flesh On the Wrong Bone, explaining my new understanding of what it means to render a scene. i've written about scenes at length before, but with about a year's more experience writing (and agonizing about) stories at various levels of fidelity has made the mechanisms and purpose of detail click into place

if you want insight on what you need to turn an outline into a draft, what an unbaked first draft might be missing, or just hone your understanding of what makes scenes tick, i've got you covered.

i was planning to put this up on patreon early access for a bit (and i do need the money lol), but i crave the attention too much rip

[macawthestarwing]

3 Days until HA! DESERVED Animatic!

[The following is a transcript of an event that took place in the hotel 2 hours after Two posts the paper online]

Color-character guide

Two

X

C

Four

One

Cyn

D

*Four walks down the stairs and flops onto the couch*

Oh, look, the great hermit lives!

Haha, very funny, no-arms.

Ouch! He roasted you hard even sleep deprived!

Four, you’ve been locked up in your room for the entire day. Are you okay?

*X stands up to check on Four*

Have you eaten anything? Or drank any water?

I’m fine, X.

You don’t look fine. You look like you just got out of a room full of banshees.

I’m fine, guys. I’m just tired. Been doing everyone’s taxes for the last five hours!

*Two perks up and Cyn wakes up from her sleep*

Wait, we have to pay taxes?

…have you been unknowingly committing tax evasion for the past three months? Because I have too, why was I not told we have taxes?

Probably because I’ve been doing them. I’m good at forging signatures.

That’s…concerning…

Knowledge Witness things! Wooooo…

Four, seriously, you look depressed.

Y-yeah, you lo-lo-look like you wa-a-tched your frie-end died

See, even Cyn’s concerned!

*Four stands up and heads for the stairs*

I’ve gotta do some more taxes, see ya.

Wait! Four, at least tell me if you’ve seen anything…traumatic…

…no…

*Four quickly leaves the room*

F-Fo-Four was l-lying, ri-i-ght?

Most likely… I wonder why he’s not telling us anything…

[former-prince-of-hell]

Beelzebub laid sideways in a plush armchair, hand hung lazily off the side.

They were enjoying their home, a place that was just their’s, them and Gabriel. The home was in the stars, in America, beyond what a human mind could even fathom but somehow within the mind itself. Just like Heaven and Hell are everywhere, so was their home.

Gabriel walked in from the kitchen, a hot mug and a small dish of fruit (Several flies were already enjoying the sweet juice that puddled at the bottom) in his hands.

Beelzebub smiled. They were enjoying their home.

[cepheusgalaxy]

Something I used to do and have No Idea of why I stopped and should totally go back to doing: If I'm stuck on a scene, I pick another PoV, maybe even starting before, and write it from the perspective of another character. Helps diving into the mind of the other characters in the story and gives you more ✨perspective✨. Also, don't be afraid of startign the extra PoV sooner or later than the actual scene. If it helps, it helps!

[notetakingnonsense]

Anyone ever start writing but get distracted by how pretty a character’s name is?

That’s happening to me rn.

[writersbeware]

The Storm

Imagine that it is raining. Not a soft, gentle rain, but a downpour that pounds against the windows and rivers and streams overflow their banks, flooding streets. Many of us like to stay indoors on rainy days, perhaps sitting by the window, watching it happen. We might see leaves torn from trees due to high winds, branches that bend, almost touching the ground. If we’re sitting inside a warm…