What to do with overly plot-heavy or character-heavy scenes
Are your scenes too plot-heavy or character heavy?
A guide to making your plot- and character-driven moments work better
Preface
Tell me if you've been in this situation before:
You are writing a plot-heavy scene, and you're aware that you have to slow things down and have a character-heavy scene. Then you know you have to write a plot-scene again, and then after that another character-scene.
But things aren't feeling quite ... right.
You're conflicted about what to do next. You want to make things progress better, somehow. Faster paced, more intriguing and interesting. You want to cut the slower scenes and get right to the interesting stuff ... but you also know that your hands are tied. You *have* to have slow scenes, scenes where the characters talk about stuff ... but what stuff?
Maybe you fill the talking scenes with conflict. Instead of discussing things, the characters bicker constantly. Or maybe you end everything on cliff-hangers, hanging the tension on higher and higher cliffs. Maybe you cut the slower scenes right down. Maybe you keep the slower scenes, reasoning that people who have a taste for slower stories will like it, at least.
If people don't have an attention span, that's on *them*, right?
You don't like writing the slower scenes because you're stopping all plot movements to have some character time. You need to have character scenes. Those character scenes – more dialogue, slower paced, less plot-focused – are the only spots in the story where the audience gets to learn about the characters, right?
Similarly, when you write your plot-focused scenes, you've paused all the character development. The plot-focused scenes are the only scenes with stuff happening. In a way, it feels like they are the main draw. They’re the reason people like stories. Right?
Writing character scenes and plot scenes feels like the right way to do things. Pausing is just such a hassle. Going from 100% character to 100% plot is the problem. It's the part that drags, wrecks the pacing, kills the tension.
And it's not even necessary.
The trick is to let your characters into the plot scenes, and let your plot into the character scenes in a particular way. Maybe not a 50/50 mix. Maybe more like 80/20, or 70/30. What matters is how you let character stuff into a plot scene, and vice versa.
Here's how you do it.
Introduction
#We think about plot in a limiting way
What comes to mind when I ask you what goes into a good plot?
Pacing? Tension? Set-up and payoff? Conflict?
Surprises and reveals? Resolution? Act structures, beat sheets, Dan Harmon's story circle?
What is a plot, really?
A bunch of stuff that happens in a story. The stuff you mention in a synopsis. Everyone knows that, right?
We tend to draw a box around 'the stuff that happens.' We talk about it as a separate thing from character, setting, and everything else.
The way we talk reveals the way we think. Inevitably, it affects how we write.
Consider a few common problems:
- A difficulty finding the right balance between 'plot scenes' and 'character scenes'
- Cutting scenes that don't contribute
- Slack tension
- Poor payoff
- Too much shoehorned conflict
- Too little conflict
- Twists and reveals that seem cool, but don't work
- Too much "fluff", not enough focus
What if a huge contributor to these problems and more is simply the way we think about plot as a concept?
What if drawing a box around it **is** the mistake?
By isolating plot as a series of things that happen, we might start to think that the remedies for all our plotting problems lies with the stuff. We need to edit the stuff that happens, the pace of it, the tenseness of it. Right?
Often, that's not actually true.
We end up making a thousand little balancing acts out of these problems.
Don't pace too fast or too slow.
Don't have too much conflict or too little.
Don't have bad twists, but also don't be predictable.
Don't blindly follow 3-Act structure, but don't stray too far from it.
The balancing act gets chaotic very quickly. That's a lot of plates to spin. Worst of all, you can tinker with the pacing and twists and everything else for a long time and yet **still** find that the problems have not been fixed.
Where do we go from here?
Body 1 – Redefining Plot
#Define plot in terms of characters and the choices they make.
Here is something people always say: "Your protagonist should be active in the plot"
People also say: "If a scene doesn't advance the story/plot, it should be cut"
People also talk about scene/sequel structures and try/fail cycles. They talk about 'yes, and' vs 'no, but.'
I find these to be useful ways of looking at things. My main problem is that it's very rare for people to tie these ideas together.
So let’s tie them together.
If you pursue them all separately, I feel like there's too much going on. I also feel like it's possible to do each of these things to your draft and still end up with problems. I've seen it happen. Usually, for example, people write try/fail cycles ... but without any clear idea of **what** to try or **how** to fail.
What's missing is an overall framework, a game plan, something to steer by.
Here is the framework I use:
**Plot: The events which inform, involve, evolve, and result from proactive character choices."
It all hinges around the active choices made by the characters, especially the protagonist/s.
I think this is better than saying that the protagonist has to be active **in** the plot. That sounds like the plot is a separate thing, and the character is just visiting. You can't always keep the plot and edit the character. You can't keep the character and edit the plot, either. Usually, you have to change both. Unite them, merge them, blur the lines between them.
Their involvement in the plot has to be there, deep in the bones of the structure. The structure ought to be built on a foundation of choice.
So, breaking it down piece by piece, here's how the framework can help.
Character Choices
**Character choices**
Characters change the course of the plot when they make choices.
Choices are the moments when the plot and the character blur together.
The simplest type of active choice is proactive. That is seeking a goal, usually facing steep obstacles and resistance. The more they want to pursue their goal, the better. When the character has the freedom of making the next move in an unrestricted way, that is proactive. They will choose the way of doing things that is most comfortable to them, which makes it an ideal way to *show* their usual problem-solving skills.
Another powerful type of choice is a dilemma. Some stories (It's A Wonderful Life) are all about dilemmas. They are powerful when both possible routes are equally desirable -- or unpleasant. The choice the character ends up making demonstrates who they really are.
Another type is reaction. A story cannot hinge totally on reaction, which seems passive. However, sometimes reaction is crucial. When a character needs to face new, unexpected trouble, their reaction can drive the plot forward. It is better if their reaction is unique to them -- some people fire up while others crumble under pressure. Who is your character? Sometimes, being forced into a reaction is the only way a certain character trait or plot point can progress. Usually, pure knee-jerk reaction should be kept out of the climax, unless that is the whole point of the story.
In every case, choices show the audience who the characters are. Not their favourite color or their starsign or their place of birth. *Real* information about them. Who they are on the inside.
Use choices to design the plot, then focus the other elements around it. That way, every scene advances *both* plot and character.
Once that foundation is laid, you can give the character all the fleshing out they need, with details and backstories and quirks and unique dialogue.
But when does this information add to the story and when is it just fluff?
Contextualising the Choices
**Contextualising the Choices**
Imagine an action scene in a blockbuster.
In the scene, our square-jawed hero has to wade through crocodile-infested water to get where he has to go. There are no boats around, no other choices.
Dilemma: Go ahead or turn back?
He takes a moment to steel himself, then wades through. He fights off the crocodiles and makes it through easily. Onto the next scene.
That would be a scene of *almost* pure plot. A bunch of stuff that happens. It can involve perfect pacing, tension, conflict, resolution, etc. The audience might even enjoy watching it.
He made a choice, too! The audience sees that he's uniquely brave. Most people wouldn't try that. Character is inescapable, it seems.
The thing is, I don't think it really deserves its place in the story. Think about it: the whole scene could be cut and the plot would be unaffected. Especially if other scenes have proved that he's brave. What would it be adding, other than padding out length?
Let's involve character a bit more, now.
My recommendation is to always use quieter, slower, or dialogue-heavy scenes to serve as *context for choices.*
If you know what conflict is up ahead, and you know what choices need to be made, you should use your 'set up time' to make the plot and character mesh together. (Or, write the conflict scenes and go back to edit earlier stuff)
First, let's make the scene character-specific. That involves using the unique personality of the characters.
I'll design a better character.
This action hero has a particular fear of crocodiles and the water. They certainly don't like swimming, either. They've also been shown to be resourceful, able to cobble together tools for any situation. Additionally, they *have* to get to the other shore -- their close friend is in danger.
So now we have a character who I think is better designed. Crucially, I designed them for this situation, but it could always be done the other way around. As long as the situarion and the person work together.
So, our resourceful adventurer comes up to the bank. Crocs everywhere. Nothing but rocks, trees, and water around. They look at the crocodiles in fear. But they need to get across to save their friend.
Dilemma: Proceed or go back.
They choose to proceed, but first they search the riverbank. They find a broken rope and plank bridge. But it's guarded by a big croc! They take out some rations from their pack -- their last bit of beef jerky -- and lure the croc away. Doing so nearly scares them out of their wits, but they manage it. Now they have access to some rope and planks.
They try to throw a line across for a simple rope bridge, but the line won't catch onto anything. The crocs keeping swimming menacingly around, closing in. At last, they decide to lash some planks together in a type of raft, and make a precarious journey across. Crossing is terrifying, especially for our croc-phobic hero. The crocs snap and churn around in the water, knocking the flimsy raft. At last, the hero makes it across. They are a little shaken, but safe.
The contextual information there was supplied by me, of course. In a real story, you would put that information in previous scenes.
There is no need to drag down the pacing with aimless dialogue scenes ever again. Now, you know that you have to design the slower scenes to support the **unique character choices** of the upcoming high-conflict scenes.
Think of these scenes as if you are *actually* writing a dynamic, plot-driven scene. It just so happens you are writing the dynamic tensions of the conflict ahead of time. Doing so well can be challenging, which will make the process less boring.
What context would the audience need for this?
- Proof that the hero is resourceful, handy
- Knowledge of the friend they are rescuing, and how close they are
- Knowledge that the protagonist is usually pretty fearless, but has a specific phobia of crocodiles. Or alligators, what do I look like, a fact-checker?
- Also, a little detail -- the beef jerky they use to lure the croc away. It will be a more satisfying moment if the audience knows it's the hero's last scrap of food. This means they've got through the conflict, but now there's a new problem -- how to get food?
Take care with the order information is given. Many writers might choose to have this scene happen, then fill the audience in afterward. "Man, I really hate crocodiles. And that was my last scrap of food!"
Unfortunately, this common choice is often a mistake. If the audience knows just how croc-phobic the character is, they'll be on the edge of their seats the whole time. Likewise, if the hero makes a raft without demonstrating how resourceful they are earlier, the audience will feel like they skated through the conflict in a contrived way.
Proper set-up that contextualises a character's choices can be the difference between believable tension and boring, contrived filler.
**Evolution**
Most writers agree that character arcs lie somewhere between a really good idea and compulsory.
So I won't labor the point: let's assume you have a character who grows and changes over the narrative.
With this element added, you no longer need to spend much time wondering just how many try/fail cycles you'll need. Nor will you need to ponder what's the right ratio of talking to action scenes. Instead, you can pursue an active goal -- just like your protagonist.
A plot is a series of character choices, and the context that highlights those choices.
If all the choices and the context *for* those choices add up to a character arc, a lot of the task of focusing and balancing becomes much more streamlined.
Before we were juggling tension, conflict, set up and payoff, and a host of other things.
Now, we have a consolidated goal and method.
Early in the story, the protagonist is early in their arc. They choose to do things one way -- the flawed way.
In the bulk of the story, their flaw holds them back from resolving the conflict. They try to solve things with all their strengths, but their flaw is still there to block them. Tension grows and grows.
Finally, the protagonist hits rock bottom. Their flaw has seemingly brought them to the depths of failure.
They fix their flaw and win, or they stubbornly hold onto it an fail. The denuement is a snapshot of them making new choices -- if they triumphed over their flaw, better choices.
Don't think of a plot as a sequence of interesting, well-paced things.
Don't think of character as someone who has a vague assortment of flaws and strengths.
Think of them in terms of each other. Plot reveals character, character drives plot.
The plot can drive the character to make tough dilemmas.
The character can change the course of events.
The plot is engaging because we care about the character.
We care about the character because the plot showed us who they are.
The loud scenes work because they are the payoff to the quiet scenes. The quiet scenes work because of the loud scenes they're swtting up.
Both kinds of scenes work when character and plot drive each other.
#Keeping the Plot Interesting
**Pacing**
Most think of pacing the wrong way.
'Good pacing' and 'fast pacing' are not the same thing.
The pace, on a scene level, depends on the way you pursue your goal for that scene. People assume that slow scenes make the story slower overall. Too slow.
As a result, they agonize about cutting slow dialogue scenes so that the reader can get to the conflict, the action, the fun. They agonize over writing slow scenes, feel obligated to have them, are tempted to cut them, but they just get dizzy.
The problem is not actually how slow or fast the story unfolds moment to moment. You can and should work on that, but it's not the real problem. The real problem is when the writer doesn't know what slow scenes and fast scenes are **for**.
The pace on a story level depends on the **progress of the character arc.**
Sometimes people love quiet, emotional scenes. Sometimes people hate loud, vibrant, well-choreographed action.
Slow and fast, quiet and loud -- these things don't matter. The only thing that matters is progress.
Not all conflict is a violent battle or a screaming confrontation. Each story defines its own parameters. Progress along those parameters, using character choices to show the way.
A story about grief will often involve a catharsis for the protagonist. A way to move beyond the grief, assimilate it in a healthy way, and keep on living. (Pixar's Up)
A thriller about catching a serial killer will involve uncovering shocking truths and probing the unknown. Often, the protagonist is changed by the horrors they see. (Silence of the Lambs)
A fantasy epic about a farm boy fulfilling their grand destiny will involve maturation and coming of age. (Star Wars - A New Hope)
Each story defines its own parameters.
Once you know what they are, pace according to them.
Pacing is good when the audience is happy with the progress toward the overall goal -- the character's evolution.
Cut action that doesn't involve their unique flaw. Cut slow dialogue that doesn't contextualise the arc. Or, if you cannot cut, change.
You can keep things the same 'pace', the same word count, the same slow or fast movement, and yet still drastically improve the *feeling* of pacing this way.
A related quotation here to demonstrate:
"I was once editing a manuscript that had all the right beats and emotional draws ... But it felt slow and boring ... I discovered it was because it had next to no subtext, and ... I wasn't actually invested in understanding and figuring out the text."
- September C. Fawkes.
The above demonstrates that pacing can be determined by factors other than the external trappings of pacing.
It makes even more sense when we understand subtext -- message, theme -- as the lesson learned by the protagonist. The character arc *is* the theme in most stories. When the story is founded on character choices that make up the spine of the character arc, then the subtext has a real impact on the feeling of good pacing.
The subtext isn't just the secret sauce, the garnish put on at the end. Subtext is the foundation, the solid base the rest is built on.
**Tension and Conflict**
Tension is created when a character wants an outcome, but there are powerful barriers in the way.
Survival is an obvious source of tension, but it often fails. Protagonists usually survive until the end. Characters that face death-defying odds over and over start to feel invincible.
The best tension is couched in character, so it's good to design them together.
Characters, especially protagonists, ought to have a goal in the story. Something they want.
There ought to be a reason they can't get it. That's conflict. Good conflict creates tension.
Now, your goal is to unite plot and character.
The more a character wants their goal, the more actively they will pursue it. By oursuing it, they will influence events. By influencing events, they will drive the plot. The *way* they do this, the reasons they do it for, the outcomes of their actions, their reactions to the outcomes -- these things all reveal character.
Character is not revealed with teary backstories or quirks or favourite colors or childhood memories. All of those things are details, and they can *potentially* add to the character's depth.
The real, concrete, deep *knowledge* of who a character is comes out in the conflict and tension.
If a character doesn't want their goal very strongly, there's no tension.
If a character gets what they want easily, there's no tension.
If a character is passive in the plot, and their goal falls into their lap, there's no tension.
If a character could *never* plausibly get what they want, but the story hands it to them anyway, there's no tension.
So give your character something they desperately want. Spend some of the quiet scenes demonstrating how much they want it.
Show profound conflict blocking the way forward. Internal, external, monsters, battles, divorce proceedings, surviving the wilderness -- whatever it is. Give them a tiny 1% chance of succeeding.
And remember what the conflict is for: it is to drive their character arc. To exploit their flaw.
If they have a fear of crocs, force them to face crocs.
If they have trouble keeping secrets, give them an especially juicy secret and an urgent reason to keep quiet.
If they can't control their anger, make them angry in a way that's laser-targeted at them. Make them the angriest they've ever been, then make them destructive, then force them to see how bad things are -- show them that they need to change.
If an older man is the expert in his field, but resistant to a new way of doing things, give them a young rival who is innovating everything. He'll be forced to change, or retire.
The reason to heighten tension and conflict is not for their own sake.
That's why SFX battles and screaming matches don't always work.
The actual goal is for conflict and tension to reveal character, to put pressure on them, and to instigate the need for a character to change.
The thing that *makes* tension work is the fact that the character cares about getting their goal, but can't.
Plot drives character, character drives plot.
When we forget that, all tension goes out the window.
#Payoff
Whenever the big, crowning moment of success and victory feels hollow, writers often feel like the scene that needs work is the moment of victory.
In nearly all cases, the scenes that actually need work are earlier in the story. They also usually involve moments where character and plot should have been more intertwined.
Most of the time, when an ending falls flat, it is either because:
- the story did not lead up to that ending
- the story did not lead in any coherent direction in the first place
It is not often that a story will have the first 90% of scenes point the right way and then fumble with the final climactic scene. Stories written with a clear focus tend to stay focused.
The stories with bad, mediocre, or hollow endings are written without a proper understanding of how things work.
They don't realise that you **have** to write the catharsis for the character and the plot **at the same time.**
You can only do this if decisions made by the character resolve the plot.
This only feels like a proper payoff when the character chose one way (early arc), faced conflict from their flaw (middle arc), then finally overcame their flaw with a clearly different choice (catharsis).
If the character's personality changes in a way that has nothing to do with the plot, things don't feel like they actually resolve.
Too many stories fail by doing something like this:
- The plot is to find the key to unlock the box of lost souls so they can stop the evil wizard. They must face their many fears in the wizard's evil dungeon.
- The character arc is that the protagonist used to be bad at keeping track of time, but after they defeat the wizard the protagonist is always on time for appointments.
There is no possible payoff scene that can be a catharsis for those two different things.
Writers will too often design a 'cool interesting dynamic' plot, set the plot aside, then design 'cool, interesting, dynamic' characters.
If they are not designed together, it fails.
Instead, make them unlock the Chest of Time with the Time key, to defeat the wizard of the Dark Timeline. Along the way, the protagonist learns how crucial timing can be, and that by always being late, they were holding everyone up.
There can only be payoff when the set-up works.
The set-up AND the payoff need to be based around active, personality-revealing choices made by the protagonist.
#Character
Many writers consider good characters to be:
- Fleshed out with many details
- Feel 'real', act in a lifelike way
- Have a rich backstory
- Have a unique way of speaking
- Have a clear goal, active in the plot
- Have strengths, but not too many
- Have weaknesses, but not too many
- Have quirks, foibles, mannerisms, etc
These things are all true. However, if you look closely, this list explains nothing.
What these things boil down to is a bunch of observations that are passed on but haven't been properly understood.
Yes, it's good for a character to seem lifelike ... but why? Why is that good?
It's good for a character to have strengths and weaknesses, but why?
It's good for a character to have a good backstory, but why? What makes a backstory good?
The most usual set of answers here is to say: because it makes them relatable.
Now we've just retreated a step, instead of making progress.
WHY should a character be better just because they're relatable?
Here's a test for you. Imagine a character who feels lifelike, but is still a bad character. Or, perhaps, a lifelike character who is trapped in a bad story. Can you think of a story like that?
I can think, for example, of a lot of prestigious character-driven films that won Best Actor or Best Actress ... and yet nobody watches them. They have been totally forgotten.
How strange! I thought the pleasure of watching them was to see how lifelike that character was? How come nobody can stomach going through those plotless, meandering movies?
They are often written as showcases for the actor's talent, of course. As such, they lean heavily on character detail: backstories and monologues and conflict after meaningless conflict. Most people don't invest in the story. Most people sit through it thinking "Wow! Such good acting!"
Could it be that 'lifelike' is not enough?
Apply that thinking to all the other ingredients that make a supposedly 'good' character.
Once again, we circle back to the same thesis.
Separating character and plot leads to bad writing.
You cannot have a good character without a good plot to back them up. And in both cases, 'good' is defined by how well they work together.
There is no way for an audience to get to know a character except through the things that happen in the plot.
The plot must therefore be engineered to paint a vivid picture of the character. Likewise, the character must be tailored precisely to match the conflicts and dilemmas of the plot.
Why, though?
It comes back to subtext -- the lesson, moral that lies beneath each story.
Why should characters change in the face of conflict?
Because it's the truth. In real life, conflicts change us.
Why should characters feel lifelike?
Because we need to feel that a story is real and true to learn from it. To take the truth of a story and to live it out in our own lives. We can't get the truth from cardboard cutouts. We need real people.
Why should characters have strengths and weaknesses?
Because the plot intersects with characters with their choices. If they choose wrong, the plot goes wrong. If they choose based on their flaws, the plot pressures them to change. In the end, they succeed or fail. A happy ending goes to those who change and grow. An unhappy ending to the stubborn who don't change -- or those who change in the wrong direction.
From the largest flaws to the smallest quirks and preferences, every character trait matters. But no traits can possibly matter in a vacuum.
Does your character like vanilla or chocolate ice cream?
Here's a better question: Who cares??
On it's own, that detail is utterly meaningless.
Instead, let's say we have a character who's flaw is a taste for excess. They want more and more of everything, to the detriment of everything else.
So, imagine they walk into an ice cream store in Chapter 1 and this happens:
>"Chocolate or vanilla?"
>"I'll have a double of both."
Then, they walk out, all four scoops piled high with toppings.
This tells us something about the character. Its such a little moment, but at least it tells us about their flaw, the conflict to come, and it distinguishes them from other people. Everyone else is either/or. This protagonist's answer to life is to say 'both.'
Is that moment a plot or character moment?
Well, if the story is written well, it should be ....
Both.
There are no pure character scenes. There are no pure plot scenes.
Every scene can, and should, be both.