Fiction Writer’s Toolshed · Practical Tools for Authors
People argue. Someone flirts. There’s a sword fight on top of a castle. A lot happens in your scene, but when it ends, you still have the feeling that nothing really happened. Why?
Activity isn’t always meaningful change. My current best approach is to think of a scene as a container for meaningful change. Something important should usually be different when we leave than it was when we entered.
That gives me a way to decide why a scene exists, what to put in it, and whether it did its job. It also leaves room for scenes that deliberately hold something steady. I’m offering a tool for working on your fiction -- a way to investigate what the reader experiences while they’re there.
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Fiction Writer’s Toolshed
How to Write a Scene That Earns Its Place | ep 025
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What this episode covers
- Why an active scene can still feel like nothing changed.
- How to choose a “change target” and track it with a qualitative dial.
- Two possible garage-band scenes built from the same characters and situation.
- How outliners and discovery writers can use the tool.
- When deliberate stillness can establish something the reader needs to feel.
Activity gives you something to watch. What does the scene do?
I like slow burns and realistic interactions. Sometimes I look back at my writing and realize I spent three scenes approaching the scene where something finally changed.
That doesn’t automatically mean I need to cut all three. Taking my time might be part of the experience I want to create. But it gives me a useful question: Am I deliberately taking my time, or am I avoiding letting something meaningfully change?
An argument, a fight, or an explanation of a magic system can give a scene plenty of activity. I still want to know what that activity does. What’s different because I spent the reader’s time here?
Think of meaningful change as a dial
Reading Robert McKee’s Story helped sharpen this for me. He looks at values or conditions in a character’s life and how their charge changes within a scene: positive to negative, or negative to positive.
I found that useful, but wanted a simpler handle I could keep in my head while working. In my approach, the useful change doesn’t always need to go all the way from one opposite to the other.
Trust might become a little less trust. Someone who knows nothing might begin to suspect something. Someone who already feels suspicious might become more suspicious.
So I imagine putting a dial on the important thing I’m tracking. The dial can move without flipping completely. It’s a feel for the condition, like turning a guitar’s volume knob. I’m not assigning Steve a trust score of 6.7.
Choose a change target
A change target is the main thing you’re tracking in the scene. What are you putting the dial on?
Start with what you want the reader to feel or experience, then work backward. You don’t have to know every detail before you begin.
Sometimes it’s like figuring out dinner. You don’t know the exact recipe yet, but you think you want pasta. Great. Lean in that direction and see what you can make. These are tools and toolsets, rather than rules you have to satisfy before you’re allowed to write.
Garage-band example: letting other people into the song
Here’s a hypothetical scene I’ve been considering for something I’m developing. Eli plays guitar and sings. Josephine plays bass. Milo plays drums. They’re rehearsing in a garage, and I want the reader to meet them.
Band practice gives me the activity. But what might meaningfully change?
Let’s say Eli wrote the song. He cares about the lyrics and what it means to him. He also has some discomfort about his tastes and whether he’s a little weird. One possible target is how much he lets the others into the song.
Put “Eli’s art” at one end of the dial and “co-written band song” at the other. At the beginning, it sits pretty far toward Eli’s art.
Now I can explore choices that affect it. Maybe Josephine suggests a change and Eli refuses. Milo asks them to at least try it, plays her version anyway, and Eli has to admit something about it sounds better.
Josephine might push too hard and make a snide comment. Eli might get defensive. Milo might become the mediator. Or Josephine might be timid about suggesting anything. Those possibilities show different things about the characters, but they’re focused on the same target.
Maybe Eli eventually says, “That actually sounds pretty great. Let’s try it from the top.” The song hasn’t become a fully co-written band song. But he’s more open to their contribution. The dial moved, and that’s the change I want the reader to feel.
Same garage, different change target
Keep the garage, the three musicians, and the song. Now put the dial on how well they play together. At one end, they’re three people playing out of sync. At the other, they’re locked in as a band.
Maybe they start rough. Eli thinks Josephine is dragging. Josephine thinks Milo is rushing. Milo thinks Eli needs to step it up. They stop and start again.
Which way do I want the dial to go? That question helps me choose what happens next. Maybe they get irritated. Maybe someone breaks a string, or Milo changes the beat in a way that isn’t working.
Then Josephine locks in. Eli feels it and starts playing along, making a nasty riff face. Suddenly, they’re making music together. They feel like a band.
The setup is the same, but the target changes what I explore.
Change target: Eli opening his song to the others
Possible beginning: He protects it as his own art.
Possible ending: He’s willing to try their contribution.
Change target: the musicians playing together
Possible beginning: They’re out of sync.
Possible ending: They lock in as a band.
Use the dial with an outline or while discovering
If you outline, you might decide where you want the dial to end and work toward it through the characters’ choices.
If you discovery write, you can put the dial on something and explore. See which direction it moves as you try things.
Either way, choosing something meaningful to track helps me select what belongs in the scene. It gives the exploration a direction without requiring me to know every ingredient in advance.
Sometimes you deliberately hold the dial
Most of the time, I think something should change. Occasionally, deliberate stillness can be powerful.
Think about a raw ingredient in a dish. It’s different if it’s raw because you forgot to cook it or because you wanted it that way.
Maybe the band starts the scene incredibly close. They’ve played together for years, and I want the reader to feel how they anticipate one another. A snide remark, some tension, or Milo speeding up doesn’t change that closeness. The dial holds.
That doesn’t automatically make it a failed scene. The condition I’m holding gives the reader an experience and establishes a baseline. If that closeness changes later, the loss may hurt more because the reader has experienced what was lost.
For me, that’s the useful distinction: did I deliberately hold something steady for a reason, or did I simply forget to let anything change?
What did the reader’s time make possible?
When I’m working on a scene, I come back to the container: what will be different because I spent the reader’s time here?
Choose something meaningful to track. Explore what affects it. If you’re deliberately holding it steady, know what you want the reader to experience and why that matters.
Resource: Robert McKee’s scene discussion
McKee’s Story helped me put language around the change I was looking for. His official site shares an excerpt about value changes and the difference between activity and a scene that turns.
Read Do Your Scenes Turn? on Robert McKee’s site (opens in new tab).
A related tool for linking scenes
This episode asks how a scene earns its place. The Trey Parker and Matt Stone episode looks at how scenes connect: what happens because of something else, and what gets in the way.
Listen to and read Trey Parker & Matt Stone’s Writing Rule: How to Fix an “And Then” Plot.
Fiction Writer’s Toolshed: Practical Tools for Authors is a Make Exist podcast hosted by Tim Kearney. It offers hands-on training for fiction writers to diagnose writing problems, build their skills, and finish more work.