Offstage Action
By Dave King | June 18, 2024 |
Years ago, I read of an arrogant Ingénue who kept trying to upstage a more experienced actress. Finally, the actress threatened to upstage the Ingénue without even being on stage. The challenge was accepted.
The next performance included a scene where the actress was to make her exit holding a wineglass. She attached a piece of two-sided tape to the bottom of the glass, and just before she stepped offstage, she set it on a side table, hanging off the edge.
For the rest of the scene, the audience ignored the Ingénue and kept their eyes on that glass.
Sometimes your most riveting action can happen when your characters are offstage. You lead up to the key scene with enough detail that readers can see what’s about to happen, then you drop back and let their minds supply the rest. Of course, any writing is an ongoing collaboration between your words and your readers’ imaginations, but moving action offstage gives their imaginations free rein.
So when’s the right time to let your readers take over for you? Well, sex scenes. Some writers can create sex scenes whose details are steamy, reveal a character’s personality, and move the story along. But more often than not, just the fact that a couple of characters hook up is all your story needs. Besides, these scenes are notoriously hard to write well, if only because tastes vary — different people find different things steamy. If you move the explicit bits into the linespaces (as Renni and I put it in Self-Editing) then your readers can bring their own tastes and imaginations to bear. The results are often more enticing than a precise blow by blow.
Take this passage, from a manuscript I worked on recently – used with the client’s permission, of course. The main character, a professional racer, has just made a deal with her chief rival before a dangerous race – that they would both race clean, without risking one another. Then, since it’s an hour before race time, she suggests that they seal the deal, physically. Here’s the original version of the final paragraph of the scene:
She locked the door. His lips found the side of her neck. She flinched away again but then buried her neck back into his lips. She reached behind her to pull his face against hers with one hand, the other fumbling with his belt. His hand moved down her side, another up her shirt. She closed her eyes and sighed. She could accomplish a lot in an hour.
It’s hard to tell without the context, but these details don’t tell us much about the characters that we didn’t already know or move the story along in other ways. So for the edited version, I recommended that the writer simply lose the physical details, leaving only:
She locked the door. She could accomplish a lot in an hour.
[End scene.]
Another place you might want to shift the action offstage is when the emotional thrust of the scene lies in the fact of what happens rather than the details of how. Consider this situation, again taken from a recent client’s work with their permission. Helena, one of the principal characters, has murdered her husband. She then butchers him — literally, turning him into steaks, roasts, and stew meat. (Yes, it is horrific, but there are some extenuating circumstances.)
The original version of the scene described the murder, her hauling the body down to the basement to the stainless-steel laundry table, and then went into considerable detail on how she parted him out, put him in the freezer, and disposed of the offal. Readers were shocked, but that shock slowly leaked away, lost in the details of cuts and marbling. The extra details, gruesome as they were, made the scene less shocking rather than more.
I recommended that the client leave out the actual butchery, simply showing Helena hauling the body into the basement, then hoisting him onto the table, with a chart of standard butchers’ cuts laid out nearby. That way, readers would realize what was happening all at once, and (as with sex scenes) they could fill in details from their own imaginations instantly without having to wade through the nitty-gritty. And that shock would still be with them when Helena moved on to the next step in the horror – throwing a dinner party for her work colleagues at which her husband was the main course. (Again, extenuating circumstances.)
Not showing your readers some key action might seem to violate the oldest rule of storytelling – show, don’t tell. But the scenes where this approach works are the ones where the emotional thrust of what happens — the commitment to a sexual encounter, the decision to commit a horrific mutilation – is more important than the details of the act itself. To do it right, you have to be aware of the emotional thrust yourself. You also have to trust that your readers will grasp the meaning of the action.
And when you trust your readers? Well, I’ll leave what happens next up to your imaginations.
So what are your favorite examples of writers who have made good use of offstage action? Why did they work well? And in your own writing, are there scenes that might be more effective if they were moved to the linespaces?
Dave King has been editing for nearly 40 years now. He is co-author of Self-Editing for Fiction Writers, a former contributing editor to Writer’s Digest, and has contributed more than 100 articles over the last 12 years to Writer Unboxed. He lives on 25 acres in rural Massachusetts with his business partner and wife, Ruth Julian, who also edits his work. His other day job, at least on Sundays, is as the organist at a Lutheran church in Greenfield, Mass.
[coffee]
“…an ongoing collaboration between your words and your reader’s imaginations…” This is the author trusting the reader (and themselves). Craft! I’m partway through a line edit right now and I’m seeing places where I can do this. So many! So, linespaces. And I hear you about sex scenes. When they’ve worked for me, it’s usually because the writer offered less anatomy and more emotion. Thank you for an instructive post.
Susan, you’re absolutely right about sex scenes being more effective if they focus on emotion rather than mechanics. As I said, the mechanics are more a matter of taste. But if you’re giving your readers a sympathetic character, they will share the experience even if it’s something they wouldn’t experience for themselves.
“Never going to another dinner party,” she mutters as she flips the page.
Extenuating circumstances!
Also, I believe he was delicious.
I think the Iranian spice helped.
I think the Iranian spice helped.
Interesting point, Dave. Less can be more.
It reminds me of the rule for “saidisms,” all those “he shouted” and “she said angrily” speech tags: how more often than not you want to either say more (with true description) or say less (just “said” or no tag at all). With a scene, one way to make it more vivid is the famous “show don’t tell” method… but this is the other direction, cutting away to bypass details that are problematic or just not as interesting as the fact itself, and leave nothing to distract from the core Yeah, That Happened.
Absolutely, Ken.
I might add that another problem with “saidisms,” (a good term I wasn’t previously familiar with) is that they place character emotion in your mechanics rather than in the story itself. Your mechanics should be transparent, only there to give your story the structure it needs in order to be understood. It shouldn’t be part of your interaction with your readers’ imaginations.
“But the scenes where this approach works are the ones where the emotional thrust of what happens… is more important than the details of the act itself.”
Excellent advice that’s far too often ignored even by successful and critically-acclaimed authors and often because they fall into the trap of wanting to show the depth of their research/knowledge.
It may be a trap that successful and critically-acclaimed authors are more prone to. After all, when you genuinely write well, there’s a temptation to feed your readers all the details through your finely-crafted prose.
Hello Dave. Your posts are always required reading, but that’s especially true today. The first example and your editor’s suggestion illustrate your point: allow the reader’s imagination to “fill in the blanks.” But it also illustrates another reason for doing so:
“His lips found the side of her neck. She flinched away again but then buried her neck back into his lips. She reached behind her to pull his face against hers with one hand, the other fumbling with his belt.”
People have their own imagined version of sex, but actually they don’t. We’ve all been so inundated by such moments in films and TV shows that those images are commonplace. I think your example illustrates this. Other than the contortionist element of someone reaching behind herself to place a hand on the back of someone else’s head, the details are essentially lifted from film/TV. The hand-behind the man’s head, the fumbling with his belt buckle–standard details we’re all familiar with.
Thanks for another must-read post.
Well, thank you, Barry.
The problem may go even deeper than the influence of films and TV shows. Ultimately, there are only so many erogenous zones, and only so many ways to excite them. Sticking solely with the mechanics of sex gives you a limited pallet to work with.
Oh, and it’s clearer from the context. He is much taller than she is. He would have had to bend over quite a ways to kiss her neck. It makes the mechanics of her move more plausible.
Thanks, Dave. I wrote a sex scene which was approved by two readers…but your advice is very sound. Fiction allows the reader the use of imagination. In fact it often demands it. The reason I wrote the scene? Fiction can often demand the presence of a sex scene…something to consider.
Oh, I have no objections to the presence of sex scenes. I understand that some writers and readers are inherently opposed to titillation in fiction (though I am not). But done right, they can reveal character and change the relationship between characters as effectively as any other high-emotion scene.
IMO, sex scenes and fight scenes are really a type of dialogue. And as with all good dialogue, the interaction has to accomplish something–reveal character, move the story forward, offer a plot twist, etc. So if one’s sex or fight scene doesn’t do any of those things, but it’s necessary for it have happened, that’s when it’s likely best to skip the mechanics and go straight to the aftermath.
“..writing is an ongoing collaboration between your words and your readers’ imaginations, but moving action offstage gives their imaginations free rein.” Love this. Thank you.
As a children’s writer, I discovered that less is always more. And reading with a child is such a joy as they drink in the words and pictures. There is so much space to imagine. I like that in my adult books too :) That first example was too convoluted and distracting. I want to feel, to be transported into the story world. That doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate details. I’ve just finished Anthony Doerr’s first novel ABOUT GRACE and he goes into painstaking detail about water and ice crystals, among other natural phenomena. He begins the first sex scene: “In Dec. after they had watched Three Days of the Condor for the second time, she asked him to take her to his apartment…” There’s description of her nervousness, her discovering his dissertation on ice crystals. Then, “She gave herself to him solemnly but without ceremony, undressing and climbing onto his twin bed.”
The next section: “It was love.” I love the way he described it. “To be in love was to be dazed twenty times a morning…” describing all the beautiful things, including observing her minutely. I’m not sure “imagining blood coursing through her capillaries” could be romantic but given the character and the way he observes, it was spot on.
That is a beautiful example, and thank you. And note how it focuses on her emotions, which is the aspect that really moves the story forward.
“You also have to trust that your readers will grasp the meaning of the action.”
Admittedly, I must prompt myself often to trust the reader. It’s easy to fall to old habits, however, and worry the reader might not understand my meaning.
It’s always good to have a reminder to pump the brakes. Thanks for the much-needed perspective, Dave.
It’s actually complicated. Some readers need to be fed the details. Others can take the freedom and run with it. And if you ask your readers to do too much, then they might resent having to do the work.
Like most of writing, it’s a matter of hitting the right balance.
This is a delightful and important post, Dave. In some ways, it boils down to whether we the author have done our character and scene work before the sex or butchery occur. (Aren’t they often the same thing? . . . Just kidding.) If we have, the reader is fully prepped to supply our absent narrative and it gives her a sweet sense of agency. Which always pays dividends.
I have only attempted one sex scene in which any details were offered. An editor named Corbett said it was great, or some such adjective. Looking at it from your lens offered here, it works because it is fully in the inner monologue of the male, enriched with the dreamy awareness that alcohol can bring, and with a partner he has only fantasized about. tI is mutual, raw, opportunistic, sexual energy . . . and his narrative and his dialogue show how he is being pushed and pulled between his hormones and his being married, which it think give the scene an arc. He actually resolves the issue by confessing his loyalty and getting up to walk away, (married readers cheer) only to find the door lock is jammed and will not open. And I leave him there, with her not taking no for an answer.
Dave, I thought the paragraph beginning with “She locked the door” was functional (though few are the places where we want our fiction “functional”?), but your edit, which opens the doors of imagination for individual readers, was virtuoso. Thanks for a great example of paring down work to open it up.
Virtuoso? Well, thank you.
Agreed. It was a brilliant edit.
Not just sex scenes. Fight scenes could use a lot of this sort of editing.
Yes! Absolutely!
Dave:
The scariest movie I ever saw (twice) is the original (1958) version of The Thing. Except for the alien, not a single killing is shown on screen. Save for a quick shot of the frozen carcasses of two sled dogs, there’s no blood. The tension comes from the characters’ isolation (an Antarctic military station and helplessness. There’s actually as much humor as violence. (As a bonus, it’s a female character who provides the inspiration for how to kill the alien. Fun fact: James Arness played the alien.) On the other hand. I have turned off a movie or stopped reading a story when the violence or sex is too graphic.
You’re right. And the implied violence of the original is sharp contrast to the explicit violence of the sequel. Although, I don’t think my imagination could have come up with some of the stuff that appeared in the sequel.
I think this one should have come with a warning of the contents.
Alfred Hitchcock would agree, that the details are best left to the imagination. I think of the shower stabbing scene in “Psycho,” which is the perfect example of “not showing.”
I also think of “Fried Green Tomatoes,” in which a whole lot is told with the simple phrase, “The secret is in the sauce.”
I’m all for leaving out things and letting the reader figure it out. Sex scene are a major one. You get a short beginning and then it’s up to you to figure out the rest based on that initial sentence. I’m not fond of the blow by blow sex scenes, murder scenes, etc. I don’t need all the details. Just give me the basics and let me imagine what else when on. Same it description, give me the basics. Like one of my characters. His major description is his turquoise eyes that mesmerized the heroine. I had so many who said how intriguing he was and yet there is minimal you find out about his looks other than those eyes. Which explains why I like minimalism in many scenes and work hard to allow my readers to enjoy their vision of the characters, situations and specific actions.
Good observations, Barbara.
While I have July off (thanks, Listmoms), I plan to get into what makes an effective sex scene in August. So . . . watch this space.