KAPOW! Cutting Scenes Like a Superhero
By Liz Michalski | October 29, 2014 |
Incredible Bokeh by JD Hancock
There’s a scene in my novel-in-progress that I absolutely love. It has magic, romance, and the flavor of a fairy tale — everything I’ve tried to accomplish in this book. When I reread it, I don’t get that ‘Oh good God, who am I kidding” feeling that comes from most of my draft work. I’ve lovingly polished this scene until every single word shines, and the beta readers I’ve shown it to agree — it’s pretty awesome.
And next week, when I start revising my novel, I’m planning to kill the whole chapter.
Blame The Incredibles and Brad Bird.
The Incredibles, for those of you not graced with nine-year-old boys, is the Pixar movie that on the surface is about a family of superheroes forced by social circumstances to live undercover and hide their gifts. But it’s also the story of a marriage that may be in trouble, of dreams deferred, of the sacrifices you make as an adult for family and what happens when you get a chance to take those dreams out to play again. We watch it ALL THE TIME at my house, and all of us, not just the nine-year-old, can quote it. (You should hear me deliver the lines “Greater good? I’m the greatest *good* you are ever gonna get!”)
But somehow I’d never managed to watch the extras included with the DVD until last month.
Last family movie night, the kids were angling to stay up later, as kids do, and after the movie we popped in the extras DVD, cruised through the shorts and were about to declare bedtime when my son punched the deleted scenes arrow. Suddenly, producer Brad Bird was talking about why these scenes didn’t make the cut.
Bird and his team eliminated scenes for all kinds of reasons — to cut screen time, to amp up tension, to give other characters more impact. Every single one of those deleted scenes was a tiny jewel, and it’s obvious it pained Bird to cut them. In one take, you can hear the wistfulness in his voice. “When we lost it, we lost one of my favorite scenes in the movie. .. In my ideal version, I would have that scene back.”
But wait, you say! Bird is the director! And the writer! Surely, if it is his favorite scene, it should make the cut, right?! He’s the boss, and he carried the story in his head for at least 10 years before starting work on it. And cutting isn’t a decision he takes lightly:
[pullquote]“In the editing room, when you want something but know you’ve got no leg to stand on, it’s the worst. Like expelling a kidney stone emotionally.”[/pullquote]
“In the editing room, when you want something but know you’ve got no leg to stand on, it’s the worst. Like expelling a kidney stone emotionally.”
So why, if it is so painful, the scene is his favorite AND Bird has the power NOT to cut it, would he do so?
Because it makes the story better.
In another section of the bonus DVD, Bird’s employees talk about how one of the great things about working with him is that he’s open to new ideas. And then Bird says my favorite line of the interview (almost as good as “Woman, where is my super suit?”): “Make it okay to challenge an idea or two. Good ideas can withstand it, and the weaker ideas fall away to make room for something else. …. Some of the pet things you had the idea to do don’t actually work….if you are willing to lose this one thing that originally was such a big part of your pitch…all these (other) things click together.”
It takes guts to cut a manuscript when you’ve spent months or years working on it. It hurts, and it’s frustrating and it makes you doubt every single word you’ve ever written. But, if you can do it, it has the power to transform your story.
So as I start revising my beast of a manuscript, I’m going to pretend I have the Pixar brain trust on hand to challenge me. I’m going to push myself to review each chapter as if it were a novel in itself and make sure that:
I have enough micro-tension to keep readers turning pages.
Every single character is integral to the story in terms of plot — if they aren’t carrying their weight, they’re gone.
Each scene is unique in terms of the emotional and plot load it is carrying — if I say the same thing somewhere else, one of the scenes is redundant and stealing page time.
When possible, every scene will do more than one thing.
Last on my list is something Bird said that particularly resonated with me: Dream scenes are the Ibuprofen of writing — one of the first things we reach for to make a story work. But lots of times there’s a better, more engaging way to tell the story. The dream scenes I’ve included in this manuscript are going to have to work extra hard or they go kaput.
So, always watch the extras, peeps. You never know what you’ll learn. I’ll leave you with one last quote from The Incredibles, spoken by Edna Mode:
“Go! Confront the problem! Fight! Win!”
Happy revising.
Your turn — what have you learned about writing from watching the movies? (And any favorite Pixar quotes you want to share?)
Liz Michalski’s (she/her) second novel, Darling Girl, was published in 2022 by Dutton. Her first novel, Evenfall, was published by Berkley Books (Penguin). Liz has been a reporter, an editor, and a freelance writer. In her previous life, she wrangled with ill-tempered horses and oversized show dogs. These days she’s downsized to one husband, two children and a medium-sized mutt.
What an excellent post – direct and on point, like the efficiency of editing you advocate. Thank you.
As for your question, I have to smile. I’m one of those writers unafraid to admit I learn a great deal about writing from movies. My appreciation of good movies is where I learned the importance of establishing palpable, crisp settings – both physical and atmospheric. Like you, I’ve learned the importance of tight story editing. I’ve also observed how strong openings and closings can strengthen a story and create better transitions between scenes.
In fact, that last thought reveals perhaps my most important lesson. I think of my stories in terms of scenes, not chapters. And if not with the first draft, by the end I have to be able to move through them as if watching the story unfold – visually, like a movie. When my first book was being previewed, one insight I received from a published colleague was that it read like a screenplay. While some might not consider that a compliment, she intended it as one, which I gladly accepted. Because, for me, the best books are ones in which you disappear, ones in which the author creates a world you can see, hear and nearly touch, filled with characters you recognize or desperately want to know.
You know, like a memorable movie. ;)
John, that’s one of the things I’m trying to do in this manuscript — break it down into scenes instead of chapters, to make sure each beat is tight. It’s hard work! I love the movie analogy as well — I was awestruck by how much editing goes into each Pixar movie.
Howard Taylor of the Writing Excuses podcast calls this “killing your darlings.” Sometimes it just has to be done, for the greater good. Those darlings just have to go!
Sadly, they do, S.J. Would that it were not so! : )
Thanks for reading.
Liz–
Excellent post on killing your darlings, thank you. The cutting-room floor is an apt analogy for what writers must do. If you’re a seat-of-the-pantser like me, I think this process must be even more painful than it is for outliners. pantsers–at least this one–bring passion to the writing process. They spend a lot of time “in the zone,” and so what gets written is heavily invested in by the writer. The approach can produce great results, but also blinds the writer. He or she has fallen in love with what’s on the page, and love is blind.
That’s why all writers–maybe especially pantsers–absolutely must have the help of a solid editor, someone who’s NOT invested, and can see what the writer can’t.
Thanks again for a readable, meaningful post.
I’m a panster too, Barry, although I’m trying to change my ways a little. And I think you are absolutely right — outside eyes are key.
For me, movies have taught me the importance of pacing. We watch a lot of movies, and sometimes (okay a lot) I will knit or check my iPhone absentmindedly during slow times, sometimes even nap. I always know when a movie is well paced because I stay awake, forget all about the knitting and the iPhone and am glued to the story. Last year it hit me during a particularly well paced movie — that’s what I want to do in my stories: make sure the reader never has a moment where they think about stopping reading (or starting to knit!). I love your list, it really says it all. Thanks for a great post!
Thanks, Julia! And I’m the same way — I often read while we watch movies. I know it’s a great one when I have to put everything else down and pay attention. (We rewatched State and Main last night and the dialogue moved so fast it definitely kept me watching.)
Hey Liz, this is great. In the case of most of the outtakes features I’ve seen, it is immediately clear why the scene failed to add to the story, so interesting that you liked the outtake scenes for The Incredibles.
I’m curious about your “perfect scene,” though: in what ways do you feel it violated the tenets set forth at the end of your post?
In my debut, the scenes that needed to go tended to be those that had a slight overlap of intent with other scenes. A similar goal for the protagonist with the same stakes, for instance.
Thanks!
There have been movies where I totally got why they cut certain scenes (Love, Actually is one — although I really enjoyed the scenes that were cut, I could see how they slowed the movie down) but Pixar’s attention to detail is so incredible, I’d watch almost anything they did. My favorite (soon to be nonexistent) scene doesn’t move the action enough for the space it is taking up, and has too much backstory. It may be lovely, but it’s on my hit list. : (
Love this post, Liz!
One of my favorite lines is from Pocahontas, “You can own the earth, but still, all you own is earth until…you can paint with all the colors of the wind.”
Corny, yes, but a great way to see writing, not to mention life. A manuscript is just words on a page until I FEEL it, CONNECT with it, with the character’s internal struggles. Until I can paint with all the colors of the wind. :)
Denise Willson
Author of A Keeper’s Truth and GOT
That’s a great way to look at it from a reader’s point of view as well, Denise. Until the story comes alive in technicolor for them, the book is just words on a page. Nice analogy!
Great post. The best scene I’ve ever written did not make it into the novel. I don’t know why I liked it so much, except that I managed to capture the emotions so well without a single fluttering heartbeat or clenched fist. Alas, it didn’t fit the story, and it had to go. (But it is on my website under “deleted scenes,” because I didn’t have the heart to actually delete it.)
I hope we both find other uses for our deleted scenes, Robin!
Wow. What a mindful shift. Favorite quote: “Around here, however, we don’t look backwards for very long. We keep moving forward, opening new doors and doing new things… And curious itty keeps leading us down new paths.” Walt Disney, featured in Meet The Robinsons.
I haven’t seen that movie, Peg — I’ll have to look for it. Thanks for sharing it!
“Meet the Robinsons” is one of my favorite movies. The motto of that story “Keep Moving Forward” has become my family motto.
Pixar’s 22 Rules of Storytelling has made the rounds, but here they are again:
https://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/07/30/pixar-storytelling_n_1718854.html
I love this, MaryZ. Thanks for reminding me about it.
I stumbled across that extras disc one snowy Saturday a few years back, and had many of your same revelations. It’s all pure gold! I need to pull it out and re-watch it.
I finished a beta-read yesterday, which I enjoyed, but all reading for critique feels a little like work. So I was really looking forward to diving back into a pleasure read. I’ve recently feel in love with the epic fantasy of Robin Hobb, and I’m reading her backlist. I’m smack in the middle of her second trilogy (Liveship Traders).
I must admit, I secretly and smugly relish the thought that some of my favorite epic fantasy authors seem to break all the rules, and Hobb is certainly a prime example. She opens stories without rushing, lingers on characters’ quirks, spends many words on introspection, introduces new elements to the weave in a leisurely way—throughout the course; structure, schmucture. “Let it sprawl!” should be our shared motto. Favorites like Hobb seemed to me, in my idealization, to be free from constraints such as micro-tension.
So last night I got a glass of red wine and nestled into my armchair for a pure comfort reading session. The scene I started was from the POV of a secondary character I enjoy (a self-absorbed, cocky pirate). Surely it would just be a fun scene, with no dire import in the scheme of the book or series. Just another brick in a vast wall of story. And then as I read, I suddenly saw it. Jan’s damn post was too fresh! The pirate (Kennit) had recently lost his leg. His physicality was a vital part of his ego, and his ego is everything. His world was in turmoil. Another character enters, one he once considered beneath him, and upon whom he now depends. Kennit questions the other character’s new perceptions of him, his motivations. The stakes of their relationship soar! The scene is dripping with micro-tension. I read on, and it kept happening. The whole damn story is fraught with it—scene after scene!
Turns out Hobb is a master at keeping my Kindle button clicking for a reason. Oh, how humbling. There goes my smugness over my rebel hero. She’s just a damn fine writer! If I ever aspire to anything close, I must master this. Isn’t it funny how lessons can ambush us, and from something we’ve long enjoyed without realizing why? Great post, Liz!
Vaughn–
The conclusion of your good comment makes me wonder whether “micro-tension” isn’t a useful buzzword for talent. “She’s just a damn fine writer,” you say of Robin Hobb. We can learn how to outline, develop plot points, character arcs, etc. But what no one wants to talk about (understandably) is that element in writing that is hard if not impossible to teach: the thing that leads to the apt comparison, the perfect place to “break the rules,” etc. The only way to get there is to do what you did with a glass of wine and a book you want to propose to. I think it’s called osmosis.
I think you’re on to something, Barry. Certainly a worthy pursuit. Even if my rate of absorption seems to leave something to be desired, there’s much to be gained in the course of study. Thanks for sharing the observation!
I hate to admit it, but I haven’t read Hobb yet. She sounds totally worth a look, Vaughn. Adding it to my (ever-growing) list.
Great post and advice, Liz. ‘Letting go’ of scenes, paragraphs, even words is tough. But so necessary. However, don’t leave stuff you’ve slaved over, waiting to be swept up from the cutting room floor. Keep it in a ‘Cuts’ file – revisit now and again. You never know when it can be reused to trigger an idea, prompt a scene in another book, fit a new character. (Like hoarding stuff, it reduces the pain of ‘killing your darlings’!).
Cheers, Tom
Thanks, Tom. I’m saving it even if it is only so I can take it out and read it to myself. : )
“Ruthless” is the word that comes to mind when deleting much-loved scenes. In my soon-to-be released novel, I had a fairly large scene in the beginning that I worked on, revised, polished until it shone brightly (at least in my totally unbiased view). But, in the end, I decided it was distracting, didn’t add anything to the story and might have even been dipping a toe in cliched waters. Now, I often forget it was ever there. Love the idea of checking out deleted scenes from movies. Great tip for seeing what others have deemed good, but unnecessary. Thanks for this!
Glad you liked it, Densie. And congrats on the novel!
Fantastic post. Shared with my writing students. Now I have to share it with me too!
Thanks for sharing it, Carol!
I love The Incredibles but haven’t had a small person to watch it with for a while. Time for a refresher. (Edna’s a hoot.)
Your third point–about the redundancy–is a particular vulnerability of mine. I’m trying to watch the antagonistic forces that are in play and ensure they’re escalating, thus calling forth a different reaction from my protagonist.
And yes, it’s so hard to let go of those scenes, but maybe it’ll be good material for a newsletter.
Just say the word and I’ll loan you a small being, Jan. Any time.
I like the idea of constantly escalating tension to call forth a greater response. Good advice.
Outstanding post! And timely!
I’m entering into the month of November with one goal in mind — complete the entire first draft of my book. As I write, I will keep The Incredibles forefront on my mind and be wiling to Kapow! even my favorite scenes. (Hopefully they can just kapow into the next book.)
You quoted our favorite scene. I use that line on my husband all the time. “I am the greatest good you are ever gonna get!”
My kids are all grown, but we’ll still randomly just say, “Edna Mode…and guest.”
So, the last bit of Incredibles wisdom I’ll share comes again from Edna:
Luck favors the prepared.
Your post has helped me be more prepared. So, thanks, and call me when you get back, darling. I enjoy our visits. ;)
(I’m going to dig out my Extras DVD right now!)
OH, and from Finding Nemo, we must never give up, but “just keep swimming, just keep swimming…”
Thanks for making me laugh, Jean. Edna is our favorite, too.
Liz-
Ah, The Incredibles. Know it well. I have a seven-year-old.
My favorite line is from Bob Parr/Mr. Incredible: “No matter how many times you save the world, it manages to get back in jeopardy again.”
Thank goodness. It’s a principle of storytelling. Make it bad. Make it worse. And worse. Always more jeopardy.
(BTW, you know how The Incredibles have a baby named Jack-Jack? When they go on their adventure Jack-Jack is left behind with a hapless teenage babysitter. Track down the short film that shows what happens to the babysitter back home–hilarious.)
I love animated features. From Cars…Lightening McQueen’s catch phrase is “Ka-chow!” Reminding us to make our protagonist’s over-confident.
When Lightning abandons his new friends in Radiator Springs to race in the Piston Cup, his love interest Sally Carrera says, “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
What a perfect sum up of what drives a story!
Another favorite line is from Sam Sparks, the perky TV weather girl (and love interest) in Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs: “Whoa! Is that a monkey thought translator?”
I’m not sure what the writing lesson is in that one, except maybe don’t forget to throw in cool stuff like monkey thought translators.
We could go on.
No monkey thought translators, Donald, but has your son seen “My Neighbor Totoro?” It does have a cat bus. : )
My kids also recommend Ernest and Celestine. It’s juuust scary enough without inducing nightmares. And there’s lots of jeopardy.
Love this post! And reminds me why I like watching the extras on movies, especially the deleted scenes. As a storyteller I like to know why they made the decisions they did for pacing, length, impact etc. It makes me look more closely at my manuscript and find the weaknesses. We watch the movie as a finished piece and I forget that scenes were edited and rearranged and shifted just as we do in our books. Good piece. Thanks for sharing.
I’m glad you liked it, Carolyne. Thanks for reading!
Love it! I am currently revising a novel, too, and boy is it tough work! I almost feel a little like I’m cutting too much…writing too many new scenes…but your post gives me some comfort. This tough stuff is the work of revision. Whatever can’t hold its own, goes.
I love the points on micro-tension, too – keep your readers turning pages!
Ah, good stuff…now to go and try to implement it! Eep!
Are you going to the conference, C.S.? If so, we can commiserate together. : )
Love The Incredibles and I love this post. I completely agree that it’s important to chop away what doesn’t work, even though it hurts like hell (sometimes it feels like I’m cutting away a limb or something). But most of the time it’s in the story’s favor.
It does hurt! I loved Bird’s description of how it feels like emotionally passing a kidney stone. Gory, but accurate. I’m glad it resonated with you.
I like the idea of having a “deleted scenes” file. Recently I participated in a workshop where the first five pages of my novel were critiqued, and boy did I learn a lot. Just like with my child, I cannot seem to see where my writing is weak until someone gives me constructive feedback. (My child is perfect by the way, the novel, not so much.) Wow, when I follow the suggestions of others, I become a better writer. Thanks for the post and I look forward to exploring more on this blog.
Great post, Liz, and an extremely timely one for me, at the tail end (I hope!) of revising my first novel. Along the way, I’ve killed more than a few “darlings,” but I suspect several remain. Your excellent suggestions have inspired me to return to my list of scenes and pare a few more before it goes back to my agent. This process is a little less painful knowing these excised scenes do exist somewhere in the cloud, always accessible, perhaps as raw material for a new project.
Also, I’ve used a scene list from the beginning of this novel to track my multiple POVs. It’s also very helpful as a book outline. I’m hoping this positions me to create the screenplay one day, a la Gillian Flynn.
I haven’t seen The Incredibles, but now plan to check it out. With two twenty-something daughters, The Little Mermaid was more my speed: (Triton: Don’t you take that tone of voice with me, young lady. As long as you live under my ocean, you’ll obey my rules!)
I enjoyed this post. I am in the final days of revising book three of my trilogy. This is where it all pulls together and a number of threads need to intersect and create meaning. I have done a lot of shuffling and cutting of scenes to make things work.
I got my start by writing screenplays, so structure and rising tension have always been a part of my writing. My novels have been described as very cinematic, which I take as a high compliment.
The comparison of novels to movies is a good one when it comes to fast pacing and rising tension. However, there are things that a novel can do that a movie simply cannot.
I suppose a parallel discussion would be to ask, “What is the highest, most noble form of expression in our culture?” Is it a novel, or is it a movie?
The blending of the two makes for an entertaining form of storytelling, but it loses some of the intimacy of the novel format. I’m interested to hear your thoughts on the difference between the two.
FABULOUS post, Liz. The Incredibles is one of my favorites (a close second to another Brad Bird masterpiece Ratatouille) and I also remembered watching the directors cut ans soaking in the wisdom.
I try to use Pixars 22 Rules of Storytelling and the one I have the most trouble with is #5:
#5: Simplify. Focus. Combine characters. Hop over detours. You’ll feel like you’re losing valuable stuff but it sets you free.
https://io9.com/5916970/the-22-rules-of-storytelling-according-to-pixar
I am going right out and borrowing the Incredibles from Netflix and watch it along with the deleted scenes. However I learned so much from this post and comments I am completely sold.
Thanks so much for posting. I am writing a memoir and this will help me tremendously. I have had such a hard time figuring out what to keep and what to throw away that after reading this I have a better idea of going forth and completing my rough draft. :)
Pixar is a great resource for learning how to tell stories. There is some serious talent in that company.
I will definitely take these ideas into consideration as I’m revising and as I’m working on a new story.