The Three W’s of Scene Orientation
By Kathryn Craft | July 8, 2021 |
photo adapted / Horia Varlan
I suspect we all know people who will walk in a room and say something like, “I still can’t believe she’d quit on me.” I’m married to one of them.
It’s obvious there is conflict, so this might end up being a good story, but right now the comment is floating in space. I’ll need more words to understand it. Who is this woman? Where did he see her? When did this happen—ten minutes ago? Is he still chewing on something from his youth? Or is this a future action that worries him?
One thing is for sure: to assume that I can read his mind is a sweet yet preposterous overestimate of my editorial prowess. I suppose that’s what happens after you’ve been married a few decades.
But judging from the manuscripts I see, it can also be what happens when you are on your umpteenth draft of a novel and can no longer remember which version of which facts are on the page. For that reason, it can be helpful if at some point, before sending your manuscript to beta readers or developmental editors, you take one pass to make sure that you’ve set each scene appropriately.
Although reportage is different than story-building (for more on this you can check my previous post on paragraphing), borrowing the journalist’s 5 W’s can inspire a set of useful questions that will ensure that the scene you’re building is also giving the reader the information she needs.
Who took action, and who did it affect?
What happened, exactly?
Where did it take place?
When did it take place?
Why did it happen, and why does it matter to this particular story and this particular protagonist?
Wait—didn’t you say 3 W’s?
The bare minimum we need at the outset of a scene is the who, when, and where. With that information, “I still can’t believe she’d quit on me” gains context:
It’s been ten years and Simone’s clothes still hang in the back of my closet. I still can’t believe she quit on me.
~or~
I still can’t believe what just happened at the office—Joanna up and walked out on our partnership.
~or~
I backslid at Ed’s retirement lunch; I couldn’t resist the shrimp scampi. I still can’t believe Cleo warned me to stop eating garlic or she’d quit training me at the gym.
I was thinking about this topic after a question was posed on a Facebook page about how to cleverly fold in these details without being as pedestrian as, say, “Meanwhile, back at the ranch, his brother…” The thing is, though, those seven “pedestrian” words perfectly orient us to who, when, and where.
When it comes to setting your scene, clarity—not cleverness—should be your first priority. Let’s look at how that’s done.
Examples from a Master
As it happened, on the day that question was posted, I had just finished reading The Dutch House by Ann Patchett. It’s the story of two siblings who cannot overcome a past symbolized by the grandiose home that their father had bought—fully furnished by its previous Dutch occupants—for their unappreciative mother, who then left the family. Patchett is an author at the top of her game, and she had plenty of game to start with. Among this bestselling title’s many accolades, it was a 2020 Pulitzer Prize finalist.
More importantly, to me, this exceptional and accessible work of literary fiction healed me of my pandemic-inspired reading ennui, which for more than a year had me setting down more novels than I finished. It had many chances to lose me, for the telling isn’t simple—the story, which moves between settings in Pennsylvania and New York, also flips back and forth through time with gaps that allow it to span some five decades—yet I was never lost once because Patchett made a priority of orienting her reader to where her characters were in place and time.
For examples, I had to cherry-pick from among her 20 chapter openings to avoid spoilers and meet fair use guidelines, but trust me, this sample is representative of what Patchett did at the top of every chapter. If you’re too busy to study them closely, I’ve used color-coding so you can see what she did at a glance: red = who, blue = where, green = when.
Chapter 1. The first time our father brought Andrea to the Dutch House, Sandy, our housekeeper, came to my sister’s room and told us to come downstairs.
Chapter 2. After her first appearance at the Dutch House, Andrea lingered like a virus.
Chapter 3. Nearly two years into her irregular tenure, Andrea walked in the house one Saturday afternoon with two small girls.
Chapter 4. Six weeks after she left for her freshman year at Barnard, Maeve was summoned back to Elkins Park for the wedding.
Chapter 6. Maeve came home after she graduated, but there was never any talk of her moving back into the house.
Chapter 7. Lawyer Gooch—that was what we always called him—was our father’s contemporary and his friend, and it was as a friend he agreed to see Maeve the next day on her lunch hour. (Place understood: Gooche’s office.)
Chapter 14. I sold the building we’d lived in when we were first married for a good price, and I sold those first two brownstones, and with the profit I bought a mixed-use building on Broadway six blocks from where we lived.
Chapter 16. “If Maeve gets sick then you’re the one who has to do the thinking,” Jocelyn told me in the little apartment where Maeve and I lived after our father died.
Chapter 17. “Do you remember when we lived in the little house, and Mrs. Henderson next door got a whole box of oranges from her son in California?” our mother would begin, sitting there beside the hospital bed in the private room where Maeve had been moved to.
(Bonus insights: Did you note how many of these openings reinforce the theme of house and home, and how the early chapters set up and reinforce Andrea as an antagonist?)
Call these chapter openings pedestrian if you will, but the New York Times lauded her prose for being “confident, unfussy and unadorned.” She reserved her cleverness for her dialogue and her treatment of her premise, which Publisher’s Weekly called, in its starred review, Patchett’s “…thoughtful, compassionate exploration of obsession and forgiveness, what people acquire, keep, lose, or give away, and what they leave behind.”
A word about time and place tags
If you’re relying upon tags at the top of the chapter to do this work for you, I can vouch for the fact that this alone can backfire.
Let’s say Chapter Five is tagged “November, 1985.” Thus begins a parlor game that I rarely win. What month/year was it in the last chapter, and why didn’t I memorize it? I pause my reading to flip back to the beginning of the last chapter, a clunky process on an e-reader. Oh—there’s no time tag there. I guess it was in the same time frame as the chapter before that. More clunky page turning. When I find the previous tag, and discover if this was one month or five years that had passed, I then have to make my way back to the chapter I’d been reading. Or, maybe, go have a snack.
If you’re writing dual timelines or multiple points of view, your reader will be even more challenged, as you might not be strictly alternating chapters. For reasons of the storytelling, time might be moving in leaps and bounds for one character and crawling for another—which is a cool way to tell a story, but not if you lose your reader.
It boils down to this: our scene openings should raise the kinds of questions that pull the reader deeper into the story, not the kind that that confound the person who kindly purchased your book and is now diligently seeking orientation to each scene. Give your reader what she needs and she’ll keep turning pages, eager to know what comes next.
Have you given careful thought about how to orient your reader to each scene? Do you take one pass to check for these basics, so we have a sense of the story’s movement through time and place? As a reader, what approaches work for you?
[coffee]
Kathryn Craft (she/her) is the author of two novels from Sourcebooks, The Art of Falling and The Far End of Happy. Her forthcoming book, Crafting Story Movement: Techniques to Engage Readers and Drive Your Novel Forward, draws from decades of experience as both a story consultant and a movement specialist/dance critic. Learn more on Kathryn’s website.
I so much appreciate your message about CLARITY! The examples from The Dutch House make the case perfectly. And yep, this orientation to time and place is something fundamental that I’ve learned to be alert for (finally). Even if a scene opens with a character ruminating, she’s still somewhere while she’s remembering her childhood or worrying about what will happen next …
And BTW I was sure that Dave was talking about an ancient and beloved car that has always started, but simply wouldn’t turn over this morning, as in: “I still can’t believe she’d quit on me.” :-)
That is such a wonderful guess at what Dave would have meant—you may be closest! One of my attributes as an editor has become sort of a motto: “If it’s possible to misunderstand, I will!” Raise questions, yes, but give the reader no reason to feel lost.
Hi, Kathryn. Thanks for a great post on an often overlooked aspect of writing: how to orient the reader in a scene. As a journalist, I have relied on the 5 W’s (and H-how) almost instinctively. When I read the work of others in my writing groups, one of the most common flaws is that the writer assumes the reader knows things that are not always apparent. In all fairness, I have fallen into this trap myself as a writer. My standard advice is that writers should strive for clarity, especially in the opening paragraph of a scene. Who is doing what? Why is it important? I have read many scenes in which I don’t have the foggiest idea what is going on or where the scene is going. It’s just purple prose in search of a story. Thanks for the post and I hope you are having a great summer.
I utilize those (the 5 W’s & the H) in my writing process, too, Chris, as well as in my conversations. If somebody is bringing me up to speed about their day, or an event, or whatever the case may be, and doesn’t cover all the bases, then my inner Clark Kent flies into action and I start digging for answers. This is especially true when dealing with one of my dearest friends—getting the necessary information from him in order to form a complete picture is like pulling teeth. In the end, I become irritated (enough to put down the book if it were a novel), and he gets annoyed because he has to shell out money for a set of dentures.
Hi Mike and Chris, former journalists unite! We have our specific challenges in learning to build a story, but those W’s (and H!) are a boon.
One of the best posts I’ve read in the past year. Thank you for this exceptional insight into the nuts and bolts of the craft. Readers want to RELAX with a book. If I have to work hard to understand where and when the characters move and live in the story, I’m throwing it down and reaching for another book.
Wow Pam, thanks so much! And I totally agree with you. An editor can’t put a book down if she’s lost, of course, but she will help less if she has to guess.
Clarity, absolutely.
One of my favorite rules is “never distract the reader,” and it’s certainly a distraction to drop them into a scene where getting their bearings is *at all* difficult. Everything the reader wants to know starts from that sense of how time and place have evolved from the last scene, and who’s there now, since all of those are the context and building blocks of what comes next. So, tell them!
Not that we should be “pedestrian” about it. Just knowing this is a required, recurring task ought to tell us to up our game and learn to use that scene-setting for emotion as well as fact. Those *Dutch House* examples really show how to keep mood and theme in mind, again and again.
Many thanks, Kathryn.
You’ve hit on the aspect most writers fail to include, Ken—how much time has lapsed sin the last chapter. In a story that flits through time, that’s so important!
Thanks for all the added context in your comment. Much appreciated!
I will write myself in circles, trying to start a scene. Your post today isn’t just beneficial for potential future readers of my stories, but will most certainly help me keep a decent writing pace as I move between scenes. Thanks for pointing out that entering a scene can be quite simple and straightforward.
Haha Lara I’ve been there and I totally get that! May the specifics ease the way!
Excellent as always, Kathryn! Thanks for all the hard work you put into your articles. They are truly some of WU’s best “Master Classes.” I always walk away a better writer.
So glad this one had something for you, Mike. WU: “Making better writers, one post at a time!”
Excellent advice, Kathryn!
Thanks so much for stopping in, Elaine!
What a great post! Thank you.
You’re welcome! Thanks for reading.
I thought I was the only one who couldn’t remember the date tags from previous chapters. I see I am in good company.
Thanks for a great article! I’m going to check my WIP now!
Believe me Sheree, you are not alone! Have fun cleaning up your scene openings where need be.
Not only do I not remember time/date tags, my reading eyes tend to skip right over them in the first place! Then I get confused, go back, reorient, and get back to the story. Maybe there’s a reason I don’t often read books that jump around in time…
I’ve been there Deborah. More than anyone else, people writing multiple timelines, flashbacks, and jumps forward really need to steep their scene openings in these basics.
Kathryn, you sold me (as an old journalist, my money was already in my hand) on scene orientation and how that puts the reader in the driver’s seat—a comfortable one at that. Thank you.
You also sold me on The Dutch House. I loved Bel Canto and had heard good about her latest, but now I’m going to get it. I can write it off for tax purposes, right, since it will help my writing?
I don’t think you’ll regret spending your time with The Dutch House. I’m at my summer home on northern NY State and there is a 100+ year-old library here that I’ve always loved, from the creaky wood floor to the musty stacks. The new librarian is a friend of mine and she’s getting in a lot of newer books, one of which is The Dutch House—but now I think I’ll have to buy it just to study the ways in which it wooed me, over and over. Enjoy!
Great post, as always, Kathryn. Thanks for the color coding. That really made a great point. And yes, I too have roots in those journalist rules, and though we might want to fall in love with our characters, amazing descriptions or snappy dialogue, none of it will mean much if our readers are LOST.
No truer words, Beth. Thanks for reading!
Oh yes! I still remember my very first writing teacher explaining how to make transitions scene to scene–simple but necessary to keep our readers grounded. Great examples and wonderfully timed as I do that last polish before sending out my ms! Thank you.
Glad the reminder was timely for you! Best wishes to you as you conduct your last flight check before sending out your manuscript, Vijaya.
What a splendid article, definitely a keeper! Thank you so much.
As a writer of time slip novels, sorting and keeping track of dates, times and places is a serious challenge. Even more so because at 87 I find that I now have to check everything more than once—just to make sure. I am a “panther” writer; I have a situation, a resolution and a clutch of irresistible characters, most of whom write their own developing story. I follow merrily along whilst trying to curb my enthusiasm for the Oxford comma.
However, and I make no apologies for this, I always have a steno pad and pencil close by and jot down timelines, relevant places, weather and wardrobe details. For me, these old fashioned habits are way more reliable than the formatted computer writing programmes bouncing off clouds which are popular with writers today.
PS. Having four sons who, over decades, have cosseted and coddled classic cars, I too immediately matched Barbara Linn Probst’s reaction to Dave’s remark.
Patricia, I like your steno pad approach! I have a timeline in a separate document to which I added character ages at different significant life events, and I have a scene outline that has the date at the top, but I have to dig through layers to see that document on my laptop, whereas jotting such things in a notebook would be much handier. Especially for a time slip novel ,for goodness sakes.
Thanks for the tip!
So funny about the Dave comment!
Kathryn, This is such a great concrete point about what to think about at scene openings, and the examples are so clear–I’ll be using this post in my grad creative writing course this fall. Thank you!
Great, thanks for letting me know, Heather! Have a great time in your class!
A thousand thanks for this excellent tutorial and the examples. I can vouch for your statement that date tags can backfire! I was using them in a biographical novel… until I read back through and realized even I couldn’t follow them!
As the story progresses, I sometimes use the age(s) of the subject’s children to help ground the reader in time.
You failed to follow your own biographical novel—that’s quite the testimony right there, Jan! Let’s just say the experience isn’t entirely foreign to me. ;) Most of what I write here was learned through the School of Hard Knocks, lol.
My opening scene has the villain making an important discovery in a magazine at his dentist’s office, then musing on how he can turn this information into cash while the dentist drills and fills, then stealing the magazine as he leaves. All in less than a page. I think this meets your criteria, but I will check—and certainly apply them in every scene hereafter. Thanks!
I share your annoyance at time tags as chapter heads. Much better to integrate the information pleasantly into the narrative, where–if done well–it will enrich the story.
Kathryn, this post SO appeals to the writer geek in me. I love taking an analytical look at why a piece of writing works, and this post opens up a whole new framework for me to explore. And I think picking Ann Patchett for your examples is a great move – she is an author whose work just ripples with confidence, something I believe is a key component of many artists’ success (particularly actors, but also writers).
Okay, now I need to start applying this framework to the work of authors I admire. Thanks a lot for giving yet another thing to spend time doing as I try to get better at this whole writing thing.
Welcome to your new obsession, Keith! Heh-heh. Thanks for reading.
Terrific post, Kathryn! I see this so often and will be bookmarking this for authors who may struggle with this common issue. Thanks!
Thanks Tiffany! Patchett laid down some amazing examples, didn’t she?
As a physician, I have been taught to start many exams with new patients (especially people who are confused) by ensuring they are A/Ox3 (medspeak for alert and oriented x 3) = x3 means oriented to person, place, and time, meaning that the person knows the date and day of the week in addition to who and where they are. x4 means oriented to person, place, time and situation. So I must apply these concepts to my writing so I don’t lose anyone, including my editor. Thanks for the 5W+H tip. I’m making my way through your edits and applying proper orientation to the opening scene now.