Teaching:

Remind students what scenes are:

  • Are small moments, or mini-stories
  • Include a clear setting that is woven throughout the moment
  • Have characters who are thinking, talking, acting, or perhaps doing all of those things
  • Contain a character motivation and obstacle of some sort

“When writing a scene, it’s easy to get so caught up in the dialogue that you forget everything else that makes up a scene – the things that keep the reader grounded and knowing what’s happening. Following is an example of a student who wrote a scene but it falls short:

I was so embarrassed. I didn’t know what to say, “Um…”

“Just apologize, “she said.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“You’re forgiven. Let’s go get a slice,” she said.

“Some things work in this section. Characters are talking. We can tell how they’re feeling. But the characters are floating. The story produces the same feeling I had when I woke up in the middle of the night and I didn’t know where I was. We can’t tell where the characters are, and we’re not sure what they are doing. We’re disoriented.”

“So, what the writer had to do was envision the action, thoughts, feelings, or setting. He had to revise his draft to add these elements. He decided to make his characters walk home from school. It would be a crisp, fall day. That way, one of the characters could do stuff with falling leaves and acorns, and the other character could be fiddling with his jacket. Nick expected these things to be fillers, really, to hold up the talk, but the actions ended up revealing the real story in a very important way. Listen to the writer’s next draft, the one he wrote after thinking about where the characters were and what they were doing.”

I was so embarrassed. I didn’t know what to say, “Um…” Ikicked a pile of leaves that had gathered at the base of one of the trees on Bergen Street. My face felt like it was so hot it would melt.

A breeze whooshed and leaves danced on the sidewalk. “Just apologize,” she said. She pulled her collar tighter and buttoned the top button. I snuck a glance at her face. She was biting her bottom lip. I knew it was hard for her to ask for an apology.

An acorn fell off a tree and ricocheted off a car parked on the corner. The smell of tomato sauce and garlic wafted in the cool late October air. My stomach growled. I snuck another peek at her and now she was stomping every leaf on the sidewalk. Moving intentionally to them and then crushing them under her boots as she walked. My heart pounded. What if I apologized and she didn’t forgive? What if I didn’t and she never spoke to me again. “I’m sorry,” I said.

She turned her head and smiled. “You’re forgiven. Let’s go get a slice,” she said. She pointed to the pizza shop, two doors down. I raced ahead, stomach still growling, so I could hold the door.

Point out the following:

The characters are not in the “dark” anymore. We can really picture them. We can see what they’re doing and where they are. We now recognize by narrative action and the length of the scene how hard it was for the character to apologize.

Also note the use of figurative language.

Scenes:

  • Are small moments, or mini-stories
  • Include a clear setting that is woven throughout the moment
  • Have characters who are thinking, talking, acting, or perhaps doing all of those things
  • Contain a character motivation and obstacle of some sort

1st attempt:

I was so embarrassed. I didn’t know what to say, “Um…”

“Just apologize, “she said.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“You’re forgiven. Let’s go get a slice,” she said.

Revision:

I was so embarrassed. I didn’t know what to say, “Um…” Ikicked a pile of leaves that had gathered at the base of one of the trees on Bergen Street. My face felt like it was so hot it would melt.

A breeze whooshed and leaves danced on the sidewalk. “Just apologize,” she said. She pulled her collar tighter and buttoned the top button. I snuck a glance at her face. She was biting her bottom lip. I knew it was hard for her to ask for an apology.

An acorn fell off a tree and ricocheted off a car parked on the corner. The smell of tomato sauce and garlic wafted in the cool late October air. My stomach growled. I snuck another peek at her and now she was stomping every leaf on the sidewalk. Moving intentionally to them and then crushing them under her boots as she walked. My heart pounded. What if I apologized and she didn’t forgive? What if I didn’t and she never spoke to me again. “I’m sorry,” I said.

She turned her head and smiled. “You’re forgiven. Let’s go get a slice,” she said. She pointed to the pizza shop, two doors down. I raced ahead, stomach still growling, so I could hold the door.