Writing Stellar Scenes: Part 8—Scene Resolutions
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Welcome to part eight of my series on scene writing!
If you’re just joining in, here’s a quick recap of where we’ve been: I started with an introduction to the basics of scene writing. You can read that here. Now, I’m working through the eight essential elements of a scene. So far, I’ve covered five: character, setting, character goals, the event/situation, the action, and the reactions.
For a quick review, here are all eight elements of a scene:
1. Character – who will be there?
2. Setting – where are they?
3. Goal – what do the characters want to accomplish?
4. Event or Situation – what is happening?
5. Action – What will each character do or say?
6. Emotion (Reaction) – How will each character react to what is done/said? Why?
7. (Incomplete) Resolution – How will the event/situation end? What will make readers want to keep reading onward?
8. Purpose – How does this scene move the story forward, develop characters, and/or add to the conflict?
Today is all about element #7—the (incomplete) resolution!
Cheesy motivational poster? Maybe. But, in this case, it’s true. The end of one scene is the beginning of another. Every time a situation ends, make sure you set us up for the beginning of the next plot event!
Essential Scene Element #7: Scene Resolutions
Each of your scenes has to end somehow. The trick is to ensure that your ending pulls readers along into the next chapter.
Most often, it’s best to get out sooner than you think you should. Don’t let the characters sit around beating a dead horse. Have them stomp off, walk away, or move on before the scene grows tedious and readers get bored. Then, plant a seed of intrigue or conflict or danger (or all three). Drop a question that readers need to have answered now so that they’ll keep reading long past their bedtime. Sometimes writers think that every scene or chapter needs to end with a literal cliffhanger—some kind of life or death situation that ends ambiguously—but that is not the case. You can have a quieter ending, full of interpersonal conflict, and still have readers dying to know what happens next.
But what does that look like in practice? What kinds of questions should we be ending with?
Let’s look at an example:
Photo source: Amazon
From The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon
The stranger came out of the sea like a water ghost, barefoot and wearing the scars of his journey. He walked as if drunk through the haze of mist that clung like spidersilk to Seikki.
The stories of old said water ghosts were doomed to live in silence. That their tongues had shrivelled, along with their skin, and that all had dressed their bones was seaweed. That they would lurk in the shallows, waiting to drag the unwary to the heart of the Abyss.
Tane had not feared those tales since she was a small child. Now her dagger gleamed behind her, its curve like a smile, and she fixed her gaze on the figure in the night.
When it called to her, she flinched.
The clouds released the moonlight they had hidden. Enough for her to see him as he was. And for him to see her.
This was no ghost. It was an outsider. She had seen him, and he could not be unseen.
He was sunburnt, with hair like straw and a dripping beard. The smugglers must have abandoned him to the water and told him to swim the rest of the way. It was clear that he knew nothing of her language, but she understood enough of his to know that he was asking for help. That he wanted to see the Warlord of Seikki.
Her heart was a fistful of thunder. She dared not speak, for to show she knew his language was to forge a link between them, and to betray herself. To betray the fact that just as she was now a witness to his crime, he was a witness to hers.
She should have been in seclusion. Safe behind the walls of the South House, ready to rise, purified, for the most important day of her life. Now she was tainted. Soiled beyond redemption. All because she had wanted to immerse herself in the sea once more before Choosing Day. There were rumours that the great Kwiriki would favour those with the mettle to slip out and seek the waves during seclusion. Instead he had sent this nightmare.
All her life, she had been too fortunate.
This was her punishment.
She held the outsider at bay with the dagger. Faced with death, he began to shake.
Her mind became a whirlpool of possibilities, each more terrible than the last. If she turned this outsider over to the authorities, she would have to reveal that she had broken seclusion.
Choosing Day might not proceed. The honourable Governor of Cape Hisan—this province of Seikki—would never allow the gods into a place that might be fouled with the red sickness. It could be weeks before the city was pronounced safe, and by then it would have been decided that the stranger arriving had been an ill omen, and that the next generation of apprentices, not hers, must be given the chance to be riders. It would cost her everything.
She could not report him. Neither could she abandon him. If he did have the red sickness, letting him roam unchecked would endanger the entire island.
There was only one choice.
Are you hooked?
I was. I’m even tempted to reread the whole book after revisiting this scene for the post.
Shannon does such a beautiful job setting the stakes. We know exactly what Tane could lose. We know exactly how dangerous saving this stranger is for her and for the rest of her community. She’s stuck in an impossible situation—she shouldn’t help him, but she can’t leave him either. She has one choice. And I absolutely want to know that that choice is.
The scene also leaves us with all kinds of other questions. Will she actually get him to safety? Will she get caught? Will she lose her one and only chance to become a dragon rider? Wait, this world has dragons!! Where are the dragons??
I want to know! No, I need to know!
You’ll notice that this scene ends quietly. Nothing major happens. There isn’t a fight scene. No explosion, no car chase, no one hanging off the side of a cliff. And yet, the stakes are made clear and we’re left with a question: What will Tane do with the strange man?
It’s enough to make us curious and keep us flipping pages to find out.
You’ll also notice that the scene ends quite abruptly. In the hands of a less experienced writer, this scene might have dragged on. We might have followed Tane and the stranger as they walked up the shore, snuck into the city, and found the person that Tane eventually drops him with. Do we need to see all those things happen?
Not at all.
Shannon cuts out at the best possible moment. We understand the situation. We know what’s at stake. Our curiosity is piqued. We’re not bored yet. And that’s the key here! We’ve skipped the parts that might get tedious and cut out at the perfect moment to keep reader engagement high.
That’s the kind of scene ending that keeps readers turning pages.
With this in mind, take a scene from your work in progress and ask yourself the following questions:
Are you lingering too long?
Are you taking us through tedious movement or an unneeded conversation?
Could you cut out a little earlier so that you leave readers with a question instead of an answer?
I hope you’ve learned a trick or two that can help you end your scenes on a high note. And, if you’re desperate to find out what happens to Tane and the stranger, you can buy Shannon’s book right here!
Thanks for joining me for another installment of the writing stellar scenes series! Come back next week for an exploration of the final element—the scene’s purpose!
In the meantime, happy writing!
Are your scene resolutions hooking readers or pushing them toward a DNF?
Not even sure how to begin to answer that question?
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FYI: This post contains affiliate links. If you use these links to buy something we may earn a commission. For more information click here and thanks, as always, for your support!
