The Scene That Refuses to Work

The Writer's Gripes — Part Nine

Every screenplay has one. That scene.

The one that refuses to work, no matter how many times you rewrite it.

You know what needs to happen. You know who's involved. You've even got a fairly good idea of what everyone should say. But somehow, when you put it on the page, it's about as exciting as car insurance.

Many of us have spent hours wrestling with scenes like this.

Changing dialogue. Moving characters around. Adding tension. Removing tension. Doubting yourself about what tension actually means, then wondering whether somebody should be holding a cup of coffee.

And after all that effort, the scene still doesn't work.

Which raises an uncomfortable possibility that perhaps the dialogue isn't the problem.

Perhaps the scene itself is.

Just Because It Happens Doesn't Mean It's Interesting

One of the traps I fall into occasionally is confusing information with drama.

I need the audience to know something. Perhaps the detective has discovered a clue. Perhaps a character needs to explain why they disappeared ten years ago. Perhaps somebody needs to tell the protagonist that the villain has escaped.

All perfectly reasonable things for a story to communicate.

But that doesn't automatically make them interesting scenes.

Two people sitting in a room exchanging information can work beautifully. But there needs to be something happening beneath the conversation.

Does somebody want something? Is somebody hiding something? Will this conversation change their relationship? Or are they simply delivering information because I, the writer, need the audience to hear it? (Sometimes because we're now writing for an audience who stare at their phone instead of the screen).

I've written that last kind more often than I'd care to admit. It's particularly annoying when I've given the characters some lovely dialogue.

Unfortunately, lovely dialogue doesn't always make a scene worth keeping.

What Changes?

When a scene isn't working, I've found one question especially useful.

What's different at the end?

It doesn't have to be a dramatic revelation. Nobody needs to get murdered, although that would certainly change the atmosphere.

It might be something small. A character loses trust in somebody. A relationship becomes strained. Someone makes a decision they can't easily undo.

Or a seemingly harmless conversation reveals that two people want completely different things.

Whatever happens, something should shift.

If the characters enter the scene in one situation and leave in exactly the same situation, I start wondering why the scene exists.

Sometimes the answer is obvious.

Sometimes I discover I've written four pages of people being very polite to each other, which is lovely in real life, but not ideal for drama.

Perhaps You're Starting Too Early

Another thing I try when a scene feels sluggish is to look at where it begins.

Do I really need the characters arriving? Taking their coats off? Ordering coffee? Discussing the weather?

Sometimes.

But often I've spent a page getting everybody comfortable before the interesting part begins.

You might have written:

What happens if I start with:

Suddenly, we're in the scene.

Of course, not every scene needs to begin with a dramatic announcement. Sometimes the slow build is the whole point.

But it's worth asking whether I'm giving the audience something they need or simply warming up before the actual conversation starts.

The Delete Test

What happens if I remove the scene completely? Not rewrite it. Not shorten it. DELETE it.

Does the story still make sense? Can the important information be communicated somewhere else? Does removing it improve the pacing?

If the answer is yes, I may have found the problem.

The scene doesn't need fixing, it needs leaving out.

That's particularly painful when I've spent three days writing it. But I've learnt that the amount of effort I've put into a scene doesn't determine how valuable it is to the screenplay.

Sometimes the best writing decision is admitting that something isn't earning its place.

And then making another coffee while I recover emotionally.

Tools Don't Make the Decisions

As a developer building ICDX for INT. COFFEE SHOP - DAY, I think about how software can support the practical side of writing.

Formatting, organising and working through a screenplay should feel straightforward.

But no editor can make a weak scene dramatically compelling simply by presenting it beautifully.

That's still my job.

And while I enjoy building tools that help writers concentrate on their work, I don't want to pretend that technology can replace the judgement involved in storytelling.

Sometimes the solution is a better line of dialogue. Sometimes it's a different character. And sometimes it's pressing Delete. No amount of clever software can make that last decision particularly enjoyable.

Know When to Walk Away

One final thing I've learnt about troublesome scenes.

Sometimes I need to stop looking at them. Go for a walk. Grab a snack. Work on something else (one of those dusty ideas you had).

Not every writing problem can be solved by staring harder at the screen. I've had ideas arrive while doing completely unrelated things, usually at moments when I have absolutely no convenient way of writing them down. Naturally.

So if you're struggling with a scene, don't assume the answer is another rewrite. Ask what the scene needs to achieve. Ask what changes. Ask whether it belongs in the screenplay at all.

And if you're still stuck, leave it alone for a while. The answer might be waiting when you come back.

Either way, you've made progress.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a scene on page 47 that needs another look.

Just one more rewrite.

Definitely.

Different tools. Same blank page. We're all writers here.

Steve — Developer, Screenwriter and Founder of INT. COFFEE SHOP - DAY