My continuing passion is to part a curtain, that invisible shadow that falls between people, the veil of indifference to each other's presence, each other's wonder, each other's human plight.
Eudora Welty

Memoirs, cinematic in nature, tend to move through scenes. And these dramatic scenes, together with effective dialog and introspection, support a story’s structure. A scene should answer the questions who, where, when, and what. Unlike a newspaper article, in which information must be explicit, a dramatic scene can contain implicit information.

Who is almost always implicit in autobiographic narrative: it is you and anyone else in the scene.
Where is the scene’s location, which can be specific or general.

When can also be specific or general.

What is an interaction—most often between you (the writer) and another individual or individuals. But it can be between you and some aspect of yourself—or between you and the natural world.

A scene list can help you find your story structure. Visualize your story as a film script; then imagine the life events that a movie director might film. If you can’t come up with a scene for a specific event, you can fill in with narrative summary.

A story, however, does not usually proceed with a regular alternation of scene-narrative, scene-narrative. Sometimes two or more scenes will follow one another, with no transitional narrative between them. Scene and narrative can also merge—a scene may contain some short narrative summary. Or a long summary passage may contain a few lines of quoted conversation, which creates a tiny scene.

So, the writing task is to string together “scene pearls” and anchor them in place with transitional narrative summary—while providing who, where, when, and what information. Let’s look at the anatomy of a scene.

A scene is built around three basic components: description, internal responses, and dialog.

Description

Description is usually used to introduce a place or a person—or to show action. Your first task is to select the details that will convey an impression. In assembling these details, you will call on both your specific recollections and your emotional memory of an experience.

As you begin to develop a scene, you will probably first recall the emotional charge that accompanied and event or experience. As you continue to reflect, you may find that you’ve gathered more details than you want or need. So, choose carefully. It’s impossible to say everything about everything—and a mistake to try.

The reader doesn’t want all the facts. The reader wants the sense impressions that convey a feeling or attitude. Description, however, must further the story. Modern readers have a low tolerance for long, poetic descriptions. Strive to get to the heart of the scene—to the dramatic action or interaction.

Inner responses

Description captures the outer world. Inner responses give the reader access to your thoughts and feelings—your inner world. Descriptions of your emotions and insights resemble the close up shots in a film. They help the reader connect to the story. Ask yourself these questions: How did I feel? What did I think? How did I react?

In autobiographic writing, a beat is the unit of your state of being. One beat leads to the next beat. Each beat is a micro realization of your state of awareness, of your feelings and thoughts—all of which move forward beat by beat by beat. Make a list.

Make a feelings outline. Your emotional states at a given time may seem like a chaotic jumble. But an outline will help you pinpoint and delineate feelings. Some writers outline the beats of a scene before they begin writing. Others (like musical composers) are able to sense beats as they describe a scene. All scenes are composed of beats. Once you get the hang of writing in beats, you will write more effective scenes.

Dialog

Beginners often assume that they must recall conversations word for word. But no one perfectly remembers conversations. Most often you will remember that a conversation occurred—you won’t recall the exact words or their sequence. All the better. You can then imagine the conversation—the way a novelist imagines one.

Strive always to make dialog sound natural. Strive to capture the natural rhythms of speech. Avoid letting characters make long speeches. Avoid “dead” dialog that doesn’t further the story line (“Hello, how are you?” “Fine, how are you?” “I’m fine.”) Edit carefully, eliminating every extraneous word, while striving always to maintain a natural quality.

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Good scenes can contain all three modes of expression: description, inner responses, and dialog. But keep in mind that a scene can be all description or all reflection or all dialog—and still be a scene. Descriptions set the stage. Inner responses keep the reader involved. Dialog reveals character and subtle exchanges of power.

The end of a scene should point to another scene—should move the story forward. Awkward transitions will make the story’s movement seem shaky.

Try to balance narrative and scenes harmoniously. Too much narration is dull. Too many scenes undermine the story structure. A scene may be quiet or dramatic, but it must have a purpose—it must advance the plot.

Scenes reveal character and conflict. They describe a locale, convey a time, and express a specific emotion. Summary narrative gives the reader background and new information. It prepares readers for upcoming scenes. Imagine your scenes. Then paint a picture—using a good blend of description, reflection, and dialog.

Orlo J. Otteson
651-278-4824
otteson@aol.com