This is more of a footnote, I suppose, but when I'm working with a relatively small cast of characters I like each character to inform and be a presence in the scene even if they are not physically there. This scene may have nothing on the surface to do with Character A but you can imagine how Character A has influenced the actions, the words, the direction of that scene. A nice little colony of narrative organisms working together.

12 Angry Men (1957) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TUzp2XUhskY In this scene, it's Juror Eight (Henry Fonda) as the holdout while the rest of the jury is convinced of the guilt of the accused murderer. It begins with Juror Four (E. G. Marshall) driving by expressing the belief of the other jurors that Juror Eight is simply being illogical, ignoring the obvious (to them) evidence. What the rest don't know is what Juror Eight holds in his pocket. When the matching switchblade knife is dramatically driven into the table next to its clone, Juror Eight suddenly moves into the driver's seat, but it doesn't last long. Disbelief among the others is too strong still, although Juror Two (John Fiedler) shows the first signs of being swayed. What's interesting about this story is that every juror (except Eight) has a reason, a motivation to believe in the accused boy's guilt. Eleven different characters, eleven different reasons. Over the course of the story each character gets a chance to be in the driver's seat, some on both sides of the "guilty" argument. Since the film, for the most part, takes place in a single location (the jury room), and, so, in a way is just one long scene, it shows that really any number of characters can dominate, or drive, a scene.

I think this is a very important observation. Even if characters don't necessarily change one another, they still influence or affect each other, perhaps in only subtle ways. Scenes don't happen in a vacuum if what came before is to have any weight or effect on the overall plot's progress. It's good to think about what effect those offstage are having on the moment before the lens. "A nice little colony of narrative organisms working together." I like that. I'm gonna keep that on a Post-It note.

Will's 12 angry men is a great example of this dynamic. Put it in your scrapbook kids. I'll throw in this one from A Few Good Men (1992), writing by Aaron Sorkin. Some writers call theses 'reversal scenes' where a character walks into a room with the firm expectation that one thing will happen but leaves the room with the exact opposite having happened. The idea that two characters are wrestling for control of a scene is equally appealing. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e8W6wNI77ng Up to this point Dawson has been a military issued, salute wearing, permission asking, barrell chested marine. He has had little real involvement in any scene. Beginning - Kaffee enters the room high fiveing himself because he got the manslaughter charges dropped in exchange for pleading guilty to conduct unbecoming and 6 months prison time. Dawson: We did nothing wrong. If that has consequences we'll accept that. Kaffee: You and your code can go to jail for life. 6 months is nothing. It's a hockey season. Middle - Dawson: But what do we do then? We'll be dishonorably discharged. You're asking us to sign a piece of paper saying we have no honor. I can accept a court's punishment but I will not dishonor myself or the Core. Kaffee: Gets Dawson alone and makes the 'Are you going to let this happen to Downey because of a code' play. Dawson: Do you think we were right? Kaffee: I think you'd lose. End - Dawson: You're such a coward. I can't believe they'd let you wear a uniform. Ends with Kaffee unable to even get a salute from Dawson. It's all there in the structure folks.

Every scene is a playlet, with top, pivot and tail—and something at risk—or else why's it there? For my money, Paul Abbott (who created STATE OF PLAY for the BBC and co-wrote Jimmy McGovern's CRACKER for Robbie Coltrane back in the day) owns this. He grew up in a completely dysfunctional, parent-free household where *everybody argued all the time.* Spend ten minutes w/BBC DVD or MP4 and you'll see instantly how this works for Abbott. So, point is: if there's an objective to the scene and an argument (I had 12 years as a criminal courts journalist to tune my ear), you're almost there. I interviewed Elmore Leonard about this once: it's absolutely how he worked. Take any exchange of dialogue in Shakespeare or Chekhov and the same pattern emerges. Lajos Egri's first coupla chapters nail how to do this. For episodic TV, the scenework architecture gets even more interesting to work out, because the scene is also driving a character web (the story engine) that's changing as time clicks away. Thanks all for this: good learnings...

Concur, Will, with your take riffing off Frederick's excellent point. This whole discussion highlights the importance of asking this question of every scene: What is the point of the scene? That point will almost invariably involve something changing. Whether it's specific to the plot, twisting it in a new direction, or characters altered in their perspectives, either big or small, the cumulative effect of most scenes is to enter with one state of affairs and exit having altered things to another state of affairs, again to a greater or lesser degree. “A nice little colony of narrative organisms working together.” That's certainly what we aspire to, so that a reader will experience the story as an organic whole, not the machinations of the writer manipulating events and characters. Good stuff, both of you, Frederick and Will.

Great example, Will. As you note, every juror gets an opportunity to 'take the wheel' and 'drive' the scene.

Reversals like this are great for a number of reasons, perhaps the biggest is the surprise element, both for the characters involved, and by extension the reader. Another example: The interrogation scene in The Dark Knight. Batman drives that scene, at least in terms of his physical domination of Joker, but incrementally over the course of the scene, Batman's inability to get what he wants from Joker -- where Rachel and Harvey Dent are -- and Joker pushing and pushing Batman to get violent leads to a big reversal: Where Joker actually is in charge. Indeed, when he gives the addresses to Batman, even though it seems like Batman has succeeded in his goal, the fact is (1) Joker switched addresses so Rachel would die and Dent would live, and (2) by sending Batman and others away from police HQ, this allows Joker to escape. This whole discussion has put into my mind a good question to be asking as I write a scene: At any given moment, who has the wheel? Indeed, we can use that little metaphor to provoke ourselves to push characters to try to wrest control of the wheel and drive the scene, back and forth, a test of wills. Good basis of conflict. This is turning into a really great discussion!

iceboxlogic, you win the day here at GITS because you interviewed Elmore Leonard! One item on Bucket List checked off, yes?! "Every scene is a playlet, with top, pivot and tail—and something at risk—or else why’s it there?" Exactly. I can't tell you how many times I ask my university students when going through their pages, "Why is this scene in this story? It's lying there, doing nothing, going nowhere." For whatever reason, we as human beings are fascinated with conflict. We may not want it in our lives, but we want it in our entertainment. So if a scene has characters with differing goals and, as you say ice, there is "something at risk" within the context of a scene, right there we have the foundation of a good scene. Then work in this idea that characters are all grabbing at the 'wheel' to 'drive' the scene, now we've got the makings of a GREAT scene. I used to describe this dynamic as two tennis players in a rally, volleying the ball back and forth. That can work, but I like this 'driving' / 'wheel' analogy better. Thanks all for a fantastic discussion! I'll have to do a blog post out of this.