🧟‍♂️ Bringing a scene back to life

Happy Tuesday writers.

If you’re a new subscriber, I’d encourage you to scan the “Nice To Meet You” post on the homepage to learn a little more about who I am and what I’m doing here.

Some of you received it last week, and I haven’t figured out how to send it to the rest of you yet (there’s a reason this isn’t a tech newsletter).

I was planning to write an article on the mindset of a professional writer, but that’ll have to wait for now (if you want me to cue it up for next week, hit reply and let me know).

Because this week I fell into a common trap. I was struck down by something that I pretty much never see mentioned in screenwriting tutorials. And I wanted to get it down while it was fresh in my mind.

As far as I’m concerned this is the whole point of The Script. To shine a light on insights and issues that only ever come up when you’re a working screenwriter at the coalface of the job.

So here we go.

Last week one of my projects hit a milestone - I delivered a draft of the script to the producers.

They’re fast readers, and in anticipation of a notes call I read the script back a few days later.

The first forty pages rattled along as I remembered they had. Then I hit a long scene that felt like wading through treacle. It was just so…flat.

For too long I could not for the life of me diagnose what was wrong with this scene.

Then it hit me. In fact, the answer was staring me in the face - literally (I’ll explain why at the end).

In the Herculean effort of getting a first draft delivered on time, I’d committed one of my own original sins...a surefire sign of an unseasoned writer - right there in a draft I was being paid a fair whack of money to write.

The scene was nothing more than an exchange of information. Not exactly exposition. But nevertheless the passing back and forth of plot and character info with nothing else going on underneath.

There were no dynamics between the characters.

What do I mean by dynamics? I’m talking about the texture, tension, and power gaps that exist in any relationship between any two people on earth.

In real life, two people are never just exchanging information. There’s always something - no matter how subtle, no matter how deeply buried - going on under the surface.

Let’s play this out.

Imagine a scene where a young man is about to meet his father-in-law for the first time. The younger man is coming round for dinner.

We might need to learn basic information about these two characters in this interaction for the plot to move forward. But how we feel, the dynamics we’re picking up on between them, would really be the point of the scene.

Immediately we can imagine the dynamics at play here. The young man might be a little nervous, eager to please. Hesitant to offer opinions of any kind. We’re waiting for him to do or say the wrong thing.

While the older man is silent, forbidding. Quietly judgemental while overtly going through the superficial gestures to welcome his son-in-law.

The dialogue might be simple, banal even. The usual greetings, questions, small talk, etc. But the dynamic between them will punch through all that and bring the scene alive.

Now lets switch up the power gap.

The father-in-law has been unemployed for 9 months. The son-in-law is VP of a major local company in the FIL’s industry, after his wealthy father bought the warehouse last year.

Now it would be the father-in-law eager to please, trying to make a good impression. Perhaps the son-in-law is being quietly judgemental.

The exact same information could be exchanged in this scene, but the scene itself would be completely different. The entire purpose of the scene in the structure of your story will have changed.

In fact, you could pull a really smart move and start with one dynamic, then switch to another mid-scene.

The father-in-law is in the position of power as the polite young man makes his first impressions. Then in his interrogation, the old man learns exactly who his new son-in-law is: VP of a major company hiring in his sector.

In a blink, the power gap flips. Not only does the FIL have to now impress the SIL, but he has to backpedal on his imperious attitude at the start of the scene.

Now it’s starting to feel like it belongs in a movie.

You can always apply dynamics to any scene. Even ones you’ve already written. It just takes some tweaking of character and scenario. And it’s often as simple as finding a little power gap to exploit.

This power gap could come about due to:

Or a combination of several factors.

Here’s a fun exercise. Take the straight forward scenario below and apply one of the suggested scene dynamics. See how it turns out.

A long-married couple having breakfast on their wedding anniversary.

And another to try.

Two estranged sisters meet at a funeral.

Here’s another fun exercise. Try applying interesting and unexpected scene dynamics to the following generic scenarios:

How can you get across all the plot information, and also bring the scene alive with a specific and intriguing power gap?

If you’ve no time for horseplay, go through your current (or latest) script scene by scene and figure out whether the dynamic between the characters is clear and present in every beat.

You’ll be able to tell, because those scenes will be much more interesting.

Back to the scene in my script. The two characters had only recently met. One had plenty of questions about what was going on and the scale of the problem. The other was all too happy to answer them.

No texture. No subtext. No dynamic. But now I know what’s wrong with it. And as a screenwriter, that’s most of the job.

My fix was to change the experience of character A - the one asking questions. I altered her backstory so that in this scene she now knows more than she’s letting on, due to past experience.

Her questions take on a different quality. Not just seeking superficial information, probing whether Character B knows she’s withholding information from him.

Character B - the one with the answers - gradually realises that the power gap between them isn’t what he thought it was at the beginning of the scene. She’s not naïvely asking questions; she’s testing him.

We get all the information we need as the dynamic shifts between them. And the scene is significantly more impactful.

And why was the answer staring me in the face?

I’ve recently moved house. We’re in the phase of getting everything out of boxes and up on walls and shelves. Literally earlier that day I’d hung a picture.

And was reminded…I wrote an entire movie all about scene dynamics.

MONDAY follows a couple across five Mondays as they fall in and out of love. Each time we meet them, the dynamic between them has shifted dramatically. That is, in essence, the whole story.

You’d think the notion of dynamics would’ve stuck in my mind.

Screenwriting, if nothing else, is a great humbler. You’re always learning - and relearning.

That’s it for this week. Except to say that I’ve added step three to the “beginner to pro” ten step process on my website.

Under discussion: loglines

Disclaimer - you won’t turn pro just by following the ten steps. They’re more about meeting you where you’re at on your journey. But they’ll certainly help.

As will, I hope, next week’s newsletter.

Till then, go get after it.

Thanks for reading.

Rob