GREAT THINGS ENTERPRISE
CLAUDE BLACK
REVIEW OF:
Dwight V. Swain
Author
Techniques of the Selling Writer
Chapter 6 – III. How to develop middle segments.
The middle segment of the story, Swain says, is a series of scenes and sequels linked together. Scenes in which focal character searches till he finds a goal that suits him, and then he struggles to attain it. The process is repeated when further difficulties assail him. So, the beginning starts a fight and the end resolves the conflict; therefore, the middle lies between the two—it’s the body of the story, it details the ebb and flow of the battle. The middle carries focal character forward to that climactic moment of decision which marks the beginning of story’s end. How, then, does writer develop the middle?
The key to developing the middle is change, change that forces character to adjust. Some change wreaks more havoc than other changes, but character has to adjust to each change. In each case, character has to figure out what to do next, to search for a goal. Once character has resolved on a goal, he has to figure out how to carry it through. Then there will be another change, another resolution, another change, etc. The process is repeated for as many times as the space or word limit allows.
Some rules-of-thumb for middle development.
Swain then offers some rules-of-thumb to help writer construct the middle segments of his story.
(a) Don’t stand still. The difference between the beginning and the end of the story depends on the amount of information reader and hero have at their disposal. The story begins when character becomes aware of a crisis and decides to become involved. He responds as more information comes, and he behaves appropriately—or inappropriately. The lengthy process of story development represents change—change from one state of affairs to another, and from one state of mind to another. Change in the story takes place well-nigh continuously because each change moves the story closer and closer to its conclusion. If a change doesn’t move the story toward the conclusion, it’s the wrong change.
Swain points out that no story unit—a paragraph, a scene, or a sequel—should begin or end with the state of affairs and state of mind of each person involved exactly the same. With each story, there must be some new fact or thought existential, or implied, brought into focus; some subtle variation of feeling tone that it engenders; some fresh development; some growth of insight, implied or stated; some hint of fluctuation in the story. One way or another, great or small, change must take place to help or hinder character.
Change is necessary because the story needs to drive ahead, straight toward its conclusion. What is more, reader needs these facts about change, these insights, in order to properly share character’s experience. If reader doesn’t get them, the story grows static and boring, and reader quits reading.
A static scene may even bore writer, and when that happens, it becomes hard to write because the only thing writer has to write about is change. When there isn’t any change worth noting, motivation sags—words won’t come; the creative mind goes on strike. When that happens, there are some questions writer might ask to stimulate the creative process:
1. Where’s the scene and story going? Maybe it’s time to re-read the story goal, refine it, refresh it, rethink it.
2. What change will help story achieve story goal? In what way might the paragraph, chapter, scene, or sequel be different? Could the weather change? A colleague weakened? A physical injury? A new character enter? A sudden windfall or loss of resources?
3. How will each character react to such a change? Please him? Anger him? Cause him to recalibrate? Force a change of plans?
(b) Do maintain unity. The writer needs some sort of yardstick to help him decide what to put into story and what to leave out. According to Swain, the yardstick is the story question; therefore, anything that helps or hinders character’s efforts should go into story, anything that doesn’t should be left out.
Trouble arises with this simple formula because in order to achieve the story goal, character must achieve a whole series of scene goals. The distance between beginning and climax may involve an infinite series of events—waking, shaving, dressing, eating, driving to work, etc., on and on. Writer can’t cover every event, so he must select bits, bits important enough to become scenes. Each scene must be sufficiently different from its predecessor to hold reader’s attention, going over and over the same ground isn’t unity, Swain says that it’s disaster.
Trouble arises at precisely this point, for in making individual scenes different, writer may bring in characters, locales, or actions that have little or no bearing on character’s goal and efforts—they should be left out. No matter how interesting, how intriguing, how appealing an incident may be, leave it out unless it ties tightly to the story question. Alternatively, Swain adds, if writer is so overwhelmed with the scene that he can’t leave it out, he must find a way to forge some sort of bond between it and the story question.
On the other hand, some scenes just must be included, even though writer has no yearning to write them. Yet, because they have a vital bearing on the story question, they must be written. If character has a physical handicap, an objectionable relationship, dangerous associations, or historical commitments which reader needs to know, they must be written. Swain summarizes: “So there’s the heart of this particular do… Include whatever influences the outcome of the story question. Leave out those things that don’t. Not to do so will destroy the unity of your story.”
IV. Build to a climax. Swain says that the middle should increase pressure on character, increase tension and excitement for reader, and see that the changes introduce complications—new developments that make focal character’s situation worse, anything that endangers his chances of attaining the story goal.
It can follow this course: Focal character selects a goal that he believes will move him toward the story goal and he takes action to attain that intermediate goal. However, conflict follows with assorted struggles, strivings, and maneuverings. Finally, Swain says, the fight comes to a climax. And then—disaster. This description is obviously a scene, which is also a complication because character has not just failed to win, but his efforts have thrown him even further behind than before—behind the eight-ball.
Writer must string together a series of such episodes, each ending with focal character in more trouble than before. This makes for a continuing rise in tension, until eventually writer reaches the climactic peak he seeks.
To increase the process of creating complications, intensifying tension, and building to a climax, Swain offers some tools:
(1’) Build with scenes. Scenes are instances when character is in conflict, and conflict builds tension.
(2’) Don’t confuse delay with complication. Delay is any thumb-twiddling, cursory descriptions, environmental descriptions, or character descriptions. While important, they can be strategically useful, these are not complications—they merely delay action. They don’t make character’s situation worse, so they don’t increase reader’s tension. Of course, delay can plunge character into trouble, create a new problem for him to cope with, and shape and influence his future. But delay in and of itself is a subordinate element, not at all on a level with or fit to substitute for complication.
(3’) Tie character to story. Reader’s tension sags if he wonders why character doesn’t just shuck the whole affair and leave. Therefore, writer must, at every scene, offer solid reasons for character’s continued striving. Character’s continued striving could be based on his physical situation—financial, geographic, logistical, or personal. Continued striving may also be based on emotional involvement—abandonment, pride, loyalty, or commitment. Writer, then, must devise integrating situations and involvements, using brains and imagination to think them up.
(5’) Have enough at stake. The more character has at stake, the greater will be the pressure on him to fight. The greater the pressure, the higher the tension, the stronger the chances are of building to a powerful climax. The importance of a high stake applies to everyone in the story—something for which he is willing to fight desperately.
(6’) Force continuing adjustments. Hero and villain must continue to play dynamic roles throughout the story. Neither must become static. Each must adjust as the story progresses. Each move must evoke a countermove—a clear-cut motivation-response pattern. When one side seems to be making progress, it should be a signal for the other side to put forth renewed effort.
(7’) Keep the action rising. Scenes should be arranged in a series of ascending order of intensity because the line of story’s development must continually increase reader’s tension. If story holds at the same level, reader’s attention sags. Therefore, it will help, Swain says, to think of story as a series of peaks and valleys. Peaks are climaxes that carry reader to a higher level of tension than the one before. If writer can decide in advance which moments in the story will be peaks, then separate those big moments, planning appropriate build-up for each one. Crowding peaks too close together will drain the punch from both. On the other hand, if the issue is too few peaks versus too many, Swain says to choose too few and give each one importance.
(8’) Box in the hero. In the beginning, hero has freedom of choice, but as story develops, when character decides, his choices narrow. The decision then blocks off the number of choices open to him. True, he may betray himself and others, but this will confuse reader. So his decision boxes character in—narrows his range of action, and this will increase tension. Step by step, character is boxed in, forced into a bottleneck, a funnel. There are fewer and fewer directions in which character can turn. This will also have the consequence of boxing in villain. This is a process for the middle of the story. Holes need to be plugged. Character needs to be boxed in.
(9’) Drop a corpse through the roof. In this instance, Swain says, “corpse” refers to the unanticipated, disastrously unanticipated, or unanticipatedly disastrous. Injection of the unanticipated is a major function of disaster in the scene pattern; therefore, keep the disasters disastrous. One way writer may accomplish this is to throw in the least likely development, a startling twist. Don’t be afraid to shock or hurt your hero, Swain says, because reader will thrive on such abuse.
d. Do strive for balance.
Swain uses the metaphor of a mountain to illustrate the need for story’s balance. A mountain is a series of peaks and valleys. So writer doesn’t present all the story in the same manner or at the same pace. Here and there will be a pause in tension—here strong and vibrant; there, more relaxed. While the main line of story rises from climax to climax, peak to peak, putting character in greater and greater danger, maintaining that same high level of excitement between peaks will exhaust reader and he loses his sense of proportion, and quite possibly quits reading out of sheer fatigue. So, give him a chance to rest a bit along the way between peaks.
Sequels. In story structure, those rest periods, those valleys, are termed sequels—a reaction to disaster, readjustment to change, search for a new goal or approach, groundwork and build-up, preliminary feints, and thrusts and conflicts. So, writer balances his peaks, or climaxes, with valleys: sequels. The first step in this strategy is to devise ways to build the big moments—climaxes—to the desired heights. To accomplish this, Swain suggests:
(1”) Group as much significant action as possible into each scene. Avoid presenting the story in a loosely connected series of simple, trivial scenes. Writer can take simple scenes, string them together, and likely ramp up tension. While a simple, uncomplicated scene may have its place, for climax purposes writer will get more tension from units in which he arranges and compresses material in a manner designed to achieve maximum effect.
(2”) Make the situation demand action. In general, the more dangerous a situation, the more important it looms in character’s eyes, and the more inclined he is to take action. So, action begets reaction and conflict, and the better writer’s chances, out of it, to build a big scene. Swain says that the inconsequential lacks red blood and vitamins, and it is unlikely to provide a basis for any major climax.
(3”) Increase time pressure. Urgency helps the story move, ever and always, when it’s time to build a climax.
(4”). Foreshadow story’s climax. Reader understands that story’s climax will center on an explosive showdown, so as the story progresses, tension should increase with each new crisis. As story progresses, writer should build up the strength of the opposition and the sense of potential ultimate danger. So each step forward character takes brings him closer to danger or doom.
(5”) Pace the presentation, mechanically, to increase reader’s sense of tension. To increase tension, use some mechanical strategies, so that reader will catch the excitement of the moment through the writing of the scene. So, use short words, harsh words, pointed words, slashing words. Write terse, short sentences, short paragraphs. Swain suggests checking such writing from other authors, imbibing the style deeply enough, that the style exudes from the unconscious mind onto the page.
e. So much for peaks, now for valleys: sequels.
In the space immediately following each peak, each disaster, reduce tension in the sequel. For reducing the tension and giving reader time to breathe, Swain suggests:
1. Pace the presentation to reduce tension. Reverse the strategy suggested earlier for increasing tension, e.g., lengthen sentences and paragraphs, and work more for flow than staccato and punch. However, he cautions, be careful about extremes. Short and long sentences should be balanced in scene and sequel.
2. Make the decision the issue. So, focus less on immediate striving… more on search. The valley—the sequel—provides a place to make decisions. This allows for the passage of time, time to think, time to work things out. Eventually character will make a decision, but in the process, time passes—minutes, hours, or perhaps days. Writer uses this time to reduce tension, giving reader time to breathe. Time is probably writer’s most useful tool, for it can be shrunk or expanded to fit the need.
3. Decrease urgency, and reduce time pressure. Writer puts character in a situation in which he can take no action until tomorrow, next week, or…
4. Develop non-tension factors. In the time between disasters, or peaks, life continues—one travels, eats, sleeps, loves his family. In the process, reader has time to breathe, and tension decreases. These scenes also give reader a chance to get to know character better, to see what makes him tick, to identify closely with him. In addition to slowing down the pace, these moments give dimension to character.
5. Change viewpoints. Changing viewpoints allows tension to drop because reader faces a new situation, and must adjust to change in time, place, and circumstances, and must get inside someone else’s skin. Another character sees the circumstances through different eyes, background, values, goals, and abilities. It takes time to make this new viewpoint clear to reader, and with time and space, tension reduces. There’s an opportunity to pause and rest a while.
f. From peak to valley, scene to sequel, the story continues.
In the balance and pacing of the story, Swain points out that it’s important:
1. To snip off the threads. In a story of any length, a number of issues will arise, developing adjuncts to the story question—will he succeed or fail? There will be life issues, family members, and friends, all of which impinge on character. If these thread their way through the story to the climax, it will be difficult to resolve them without a series of unsatisfying anticlimaxes. Therefore, bring them down to size; snip off the threads before the climax. Eliminating minor issues along the way before the climax shortens resolution, clears the stage for the climax, so character can give his full attention to the big “Will-he-or-won’t-he?” issue at the center of the story question.
2. Not to rehash. Establish the necessary information and move on without having character go through the same undeviating routine again and again, which is sure to bore reader. Change, then, is the cure for repetitiveness. Enter the unanticipated, the new element, the new twist. A story thus created doesn’t stand still. Soundly created scenes and sequels, Swain says, keep reader’s attention.
Previous – How to get a story started
Next – How to build a climax
Directory