Narrative Building Blocks and Bridging a Story
You already know this but humor me.
The progression to completing a novel:
- Letters make up words.
- Words build sentences.
- Sentences are grouped into paragraphs.
- Paragraphs become scenes.
- And scenes establish chapters.
If you manage one through five, then you can manage:
- Chapters make up a novel.
The difference between writing a chapter and writing a novel is merely a measure of persistence. Finishing a book really is that simple. And I didn’t enumerate these to insult your intelligence, rather, I wanted to draw your attention to a transition near the middle of this list.
If you’re writing and developing numbers one through four, this is the place to focus on grammar. When you start building beyond this, your attention starts interacting with larger, interconnecting blocks of information, so think of one through four like you’re looking at something under a microscope.
That’s not to say that a new writer can’t go beyond this point, find value in going further, or even succeed if they do; I’m just highlighting the fact that the building blocks of your story reside here. And everything that follows is way easier when you can stick the landing in this section.
Now that we’ve identified that, let’s press on and assume that you’ve got a solid handle on this part of your storytelling. In regards to numbers five and six, your focus is wider and entertaining the interconnecting components that reside in your scenes and chapters. And pushing your number four up to number six isn’t about writing more; it’s about effectively writing less.
By making every scene count.
Adapting
If you’re like me, you probably had some writing exercise that a teacher had you complete prior or during class. Mine was something like 500 words and in response to a provided writing prompt, where we had the first ten-minutes of each class to complete the exercise.
Back then, it was all about fluff i.e. filler content. I had no interest in writing at the time so word volume was really my only focus. But fluff isn’t something that belongs in your narrative. At this level, you’re dealing with character, plot, and world building arcs, where each of your scenes needs to advance or develop one or more of these arcs.
Think of your arcs like a bridge whose support pillars descend into separate scenes. Remove a pillar and a section of the bridge collapses, preventing you from crossing, thus preventing you from crossing the story.
If you can remove a scene and the story still makes sense, then that scene doesn’t belong in your story. When I wrote the draft for Twilight Wolf, I had several scenes that were really enjoyable, yet I could use none of them for this reason.
When I moved from drafting to rewriting, I was able to keep two chapters and one additional scene. And if you’re wondering, revising and rewriting are exactly what they sound like. When you revise, you’re adjusting what you’ve already written; when you’re rewriting, your draft may be little more than notes.
In my case, I had a huge shift that moved my draft’s chapter 50-ish to my rewrite’s chapter 9. In addition to that, I switched the tense from present to past. When it was all said and done, I was only able to use three of 57 chapters, two of which required extensive revision.
Effort
After implementing those three chapters in my rewrite, there was another sequence, spanning a few chapters, that I was excited to reach. It was going to land in my rewrite’s chapter 37. And I just knew that reaching this point would let me insert my draft chapters seamlessly, which would skip me ahead in my overall rewriting progress.
However, I didn’t account for how much my writing skill had advanced between the draft and rewrite. Another aspect that I overlooked was the drastically increased tension and intensity that each of my rewrite’s fights added. So, I reached chapter 37, then began a combination of revision and rewriting to adapt this sequence.
I don’t remember exactly how far I progressed. I revised/rewrote the fight’s set up, then I progressed around 1,200 words into the actual fight. And it added...nothing. It’s not that words weren’t present; it’s just that the writing that was didn’t build on any of my rewrite’s fight sequences and there was zero tension.
I was absolutely floored, realizing it while actively writing the fight sequence. I was disappointed to discover this. But more than that, I was delighted! It was the first time I had sensed tension in my own writing. Or the lack of in this case. And I was surprised about being able to identify that.
So, within this lies a vital takeaway for your arcs: Your characters need stakes and your story needs dramatic tension. If your characters don’t feel like they’re in any real danger... If they can’t fail, then there’s no reward in seeing them succeed. They actually aren’t succeeding, because if they can’t fail, they might as well be ticking off boxes on a grocery list. And who wants to follow that?
Sequencing arcs across chapters
Allow me to provide you with a few examples of scenes that break my story when removed. From the start of the prologue, you’re introduced to the protagonist—Mioko—her portal magic, terminology associated with using portals, and an expectation that she’s going to be using these portals in combat.
Portal Kombat, as it were.
Now, let’s skip forward to chapters 3 through 5. At the end of chapter 3, Mioko departs the scene heading towards a solo fight. Chapter 4 is a flashback that involves two maiden warriors that provide her with physical and mental combat training. In this chapter, you glimpse some things that she’s suppressing in the present day and get a sense of her progression as a fighter. But most importantly, you learn some portal terminology that is required for you to follow the sequence in Chapter 5.
This is why I enumerated the initial list. Because arcs span scenes & chapters. And these three chapters showcase this, each requiring both of the other.
If you want your fights to be interesting, action-packed, and rewarding... Don’t explain your character’s moves, powers, and techniques in the middle of a fight. You do that beforehand so that the fight sequence has a faster pace.
When you get to chapter 5, where Mioko is fighting a group of ninja atop a moving train, you’re able to focus on the maelstrom of exchanged blows, her slippage on the increasingly bloody rooftop, and her unraveling mental state. If you had to also digest how she was manipulating her portals... it would be a far less satisfying exchange.
Complex scenes
Remember the bridge I mentioned? Well, that was just to set up imagery that I wanted to use here—which is actually meta if you think about it. :)
'Squirrel' moments aside, sometimes a scene can contain a convergence of bridges—multiple support pillars pivoting off the same scene—that create a kaleidescope of bisecting arcs, which paint scenes that can’t show up elsewhere in your story.
Two of my favorite sequences in Twilight Wolf are found in Chapter 42: Familial Bonds and Chapter 47: What’s in a Name. Outside of the narrative, they don’t seem like they belong because the tone/mood are stark contrasts to every other chapter and even against one another. But they not only work, they’re paramount to multiple arcs. And the reason they work is because of the story’s POV choice.
The story is told in Close 3rd Person aka 3rd Person Limited, which means you don’t have a narrator. When depicting the world around the POV character, the view of that world is framed by the character’s state of mind. If the character seems like she’s having a bad day, everything in her environment is likely going to be portrayed as if it’s targeting her specifically.
A man spills his cup of coffee solely to create a tripping hazard for her or to make her walk around it.
Or it’s raining outside but only in a small area directly above her, which then follows her wherever she goes.
You get the idea, Charlie Brown.
Up until Chapter 42, you mostly get a hard-nosed Mioko. You’ve glimpsed some of her past and know part of what’s caused her to behave the way she does, but Chapter 42 takes a drastic turn.
In chapter 41 , the group fights a tough battle, which happened to be their first large scale fight, requiring all of them to fight in support of one another. Their triumph was a great relief for Mioko, which led to a nostalgia-saturated chapter 42 where she establishes a bond with Wolf, a companion she’s been at odds with for the majority of the story. It’s a side of both characters that you don’t see anywhere else, which is both a crescendo and a pivot point for how their arcs develop over the remainder of the story.
Chapter 47 is another convergence point and this time it’s a combination of Mioko’s POV and the themes that have been developing alongside their journey. This chapter is visually saturated with Mioko feeling like a passenger in her own body. Her mental state has been unraveling, parts of her psyche now showing up in the real world, and she’s just discovered that she has been forever changed by two separate factors at once.
This sequence then proceeds in artistic blurs and distortions as Mioko tries to find an answer to a question she doesn’t know she needs to ask. The combination of her POV, the story themes, and her mood create another sequence that can’t be produced anywhere else in the narrative, and removing it would cripple her character arc.
Conclusion
I touched on the enumerated one through four initially because that’s really where my own writing journey should have began. If it had, I’m confident that my skill level would have progressed more quickly. But as they say, it’s water under the bridge.
Waggles eyebrows. You see what I did there? That bridge metaphor keeps putting in work! lol
Anyways.
All of your scenes need to advance the plot, character arcs, or provide important world building details. That makes three separate story threads that you’re in charge of. But each of those threads are twined fabric fibers; they’re not singular. In addition to plots, you have subplots. World building is multifaceted. And characters have dynamic layers.
With all of these elements in play, you really have no room for fluff. There is a plethora of material wound within these three threads. If you lack something, your answer probably resides in developing your world building or the characters that occupy it.
So, start with your building blocks. Learn how to handle, manipulate, and apply them. Once you have a handle on that, move to connecting arcs.
Let’s face it. We’re all still learning. As they say, ‘you don’t know what you don’t know.’ So, who’s to say what knowledge gaps that each of us are dealing with? Fortunately, with the aforementioned building blocks, we can bridge— Pffft! hahaha I’m sorry, I just can’t anymore.
So. That’ll do it for now!
Until the next one,
Happy writing!
