VanderMeer's Wonderbook, Chapter Four: Narrative Design (Continued)
A short discussion on inter-cutting scenes within a story is presented next in the chapter. The first point raised within this section is to discuss how shifting from a scene to another can work to keep reader interest and stretch it across a scene that they might otherwise have less motivation in reading. In essence, the desire of the reader to resume and conclude one line of narrative is cultivated by ending a scene before that strand of plot has fully resolved. By switching, at this moment, to another thread in the narrative, the reader's desire is allowed to build. If done well, the scene or scenes that come before that resolution will earn their own power, but without disrupting the forward momentum that is built by the desire for a resolution.
This can, of course, be done poorly, where the scenes that are inserted do not have enough interest for the reader, and thus become annoyances that are delaying the real gratification. It may even be that some readers will so lose interest that they do not care to read any more, and the desire for that resolution has been so stretched as to break. This is one reason why it is important for each thread to have resonance on its own. As well, it can be helpful if the intruding scenes inform the reader's understanding of the conflict in the first thread.
For example, suppose that a scene depicts a woman on her way out of the grocery store. She drops something, and a teenaged girl walks over and helps pick things up. While the woman is thankful, as the young lady walks off, she looks and sees a phone identical to her own. She looks in her bag and can't find it and starts to yell after the teen.
Now, if we cut this scene to another moment, we could show the woman's husband trying to call her. He is at home, but just received an emergency call that he needs to go to work. He tries calling her.
We cut back to the woman and she is running, chasing down the youth to retrieve her phone. Now, we return to the husband, trying to call and hearing the phone: she has forgotten it at home.
Now, when we return to the first scene for that resolution, it means something very different than if we had just seen it happen all at once. Consider the difference if we always knew the phone was at home, if the scene with the husband had been done straight through before the sequence of the woman chasing down a supposed thief. For one thing, if the reader knows about the phone's location before, that changes the reader's feelings about the scene. While they might sympathize with the woman, they don't believe the young lady is a thief, but see her as a victim. They cannot fully enter the protagonists viewpoint. On the other hand, if we wait until after the scene is over, consider the meaning of two different conclusions. In one, she gets the phone from the girl, in the other she does not. If she gets the phone, and we do not know it is the wrong phone, we feel her triumph. If, on the other hand, we do know, we feel a completely different response. If she does not get the phone and we do not know, we feel her defeat, while if the girl gets away, we feel a sort of relief. The difference is, again, are we inside the character's perspective or not?
By intercutting, in this case, we have used the two scenes to create a propulsion mechanism. We could also, of course, add another set of scenes. Suppose that we have the same sequence, but we also introduce a scene of the son at school. In the first sequence, we have the son and his friend eating lunch when some other kids come over and start to pick on them. This scene follows the mother with the groceries, but precedes the father finding the phone. This sequencing allows the middle scene to be quiet at the start, since the reader's interest is high already. They want to find out about the mother. The scene of the husband/father now serves to return our interest back to the mother, while also providing the information that he is returning to work (which may be important later). Now, we get back to the mother, as described above, and then to the son. The scene with the son being inserted here is also going to serve as a break between the wife/mother chasing the teen, and the revelation that the phone is at home. The reader is kept in that space longer.
As well, we can create a thematic resonance, by having the son and his friend being chased by the bullies. The son's situation become an inverse of the mother's. As well, we now have a second tension built into this scene, so that we can resolve the scene with the mother and still have a driving force. Indeed, by staggering the development and resolution of climax within a sequence of interlaced scenes, a writer can develop a strategy for maintaining the stories energy. Of course, one wants to let the energy lower at points, for the reader's sake, but that can still be achieved within such a structure.
I think, also, that it is worth noting that scenes can be put together that are out of time, and even scenes from the same character's story might be cut together. For example, a set of scenes about an older character is often contrasted with a set from when they were younger. Novelist David Mitchell will interlace stories from different times, places, and even written in different styles, in a way that makes the books far richer through the interweaving and the use of thematic resonance.
One thing that fascinates me, though, is the question of how a set of disparate narratives can be told simultaneously without cutting between them. In film, a director can show simultaneous action on screen, or can use tricks that interconnect the scenes, for example using the sound from one scene while cutting to another in the visuals. A writer cannot do that in the same way, but I do wonder if their are techniques for this. In all honesty, I am not certain, or at least I am not certain how to do so in a way that would be compelling, clear, and functional within a story.
To do it well would require connecting things up in ways that allow for comparisons between actions and other tricks. For example, using a comparison to describe multiple characters who are not actually in the same place or time. I can think of little ways to do it in a particular moment, but to pull of a set of scenes that way seems much more difficult.
That, however, is a bit of a sidetrack, though one I expect to return to at a later date. The point is that setting up a sequence of scenes that are not directly correlated can do a lot of work. Not only can it motivate the reader by transferring the excitement for one sequence across portions of the other scenes, but also by creating meaning itself. Foe example, in the above sequence, it might be possible to draw meaning from the connection between the two parents in the scene and the fact that the son is in a seperate narrative. The fact that the center of the parent's story is about the phone, a symbol of communication, could be significant in that, as well. Just by setting the scenes against each other, it might be possible to communicate a far deeper amount of subtext, and to correlate the reader's responses to the different scenes. It is a way of managing the responses of a reader and of creating meaning through the connections and juxtapositions. And, of course, it allows for more complex stories that follow multiple characters and events throughout.
This can, of course, be done poorly, where the scenes that are inserted do not have enough interest for the reader, and thus become annoyances that are delaying the real gratification. It may even be that some readers will so lose interest that they do not care to read any more, and the desire for that resolution has been so stretched as to break. This is one reason why it is important for each thread to have resonance on its own. As well, it can be helpful if the intruding scenes inform the reader's understanding of the conflict in the first thread.
For example, suppose that a scene depicts a woman on her way out of the grocery store. She drops something, and a teenaged girl walks over and helps pick things up. While the woman is thankful, as the young lady walks off, she looks and sees a phone identical to her own. She looks in her bag and can't find it and starts to yell after the teen.
Now, if we cut this scene to another moment, we could show the woman's husband trying to call her. He is at home, but just received an emergency call that he needs to go to work. He tries calling her.
We cut back to the woman and she is running, chasing down the youth to retrieve her phone. Now, we return to the husband, trying to call and hearing the phone: she has forgotten it at home.
Now, when we return to the first scene for that resolution, it means something very different than if we had just seen it happen all at once. Consider the difference if we always knew the phone was at home, if the scene with the husband had been done straight through before the sequence of the woman chasing down a supposed thief. For one thing, if the reader knows about the phone's location before, that changes the reader's feelings about the scene. While they might sympathize with the woman, they don't believe the young lady is a thief, but see her as a victim. They cannot fully enter the protagonists viewpoint. On the other hand, if we wait until after the scene is over, consider the meaning of two different conclusions. In one, she gets the phone from the girl, in the other she does not. If she gets the phone, and we do not know it is the wrong phone, we feel her triumph. If, on the other hand, we do know, we feel a completely different response. If she does not get the phone and we do not know, we feel her defeat, while if the girl gets away, we feel a sort of relief. The difference is, again, are we inside the character's perspective or not?
By intercutting, in this case, we have used the two scenes to create a propulsion mechanism. We could also, of course, add another set of scenes. Suppose that we have the same sequence, but we also introduce a scene of the son at school. In the first sequence, we have the son and his friend eating lunch when some other kids come over and start to pick on them. This scene follows the mother with the groceries, but precedes the father finding the phone. This sequencing allows the middle scene to be quiet at the start, since the reader's interest is high already. They want to find out about the mother. The scene of the husband/father now serves to return our interest back to the mother, while also providing the information that he is returning to work (which may be important later). Now, we get back to the mother, as described above, and then to the son. The scene with the son being inserted here is also going to serve as a break between the wife/mother chasing the teen, and the revelation that the phone is at home. The reader is kept in that space longer.
As well, we can create a thematic resonance, by having the son and his friend being chased by the bullies. The son's situation become an inverse of the mother's. As well, we now have a second tension built into this scene, so that we can resolve the scene with the mother and still have a driving force. Indeed, by staggering the development and resolution of climax within a sequence of interlaced scenes, a writer can develop a strategy for maintaining the stories energy. Of course, one wants to let the energy lower at points, for the reader's sake, but that can still be achieved within such a structure.
I think, also, that it is worth noting that scenes can be put together that are out of time, and even scenes from the same character's story might be cut together. For example, a set of scenes about an older character is often contrasted with a set from when they were younger. Novelist David Mitchell will interlace stories from different times, places, and even written in different styles, in a way that makes the books far richer through the interweaving and the use of thematic resonance.
One thing that fascinates me, though, is the question of how a set of disparate narratives can be told simultaneously without cutting between them. In film, a director can show simultaneous action on screen, or can use tricks that interconnect the scenes, for example using the sound from one scene while cutting to another in the visuals. A writer cannot do that in the same way, but I do wonder if their are techniques for this. In all honesty, I am not certain, or at least I am not certain how to do so in a way that would be compelling, clear, and functional within a story.
To do it well would require connecting things up in ways that allow for comparisons between actions and other tricks. For example, using a comparison to describe multiple characters who are not actually in the same place or time. I can think of little ways to do it in a particular moment, but to pull of a set of scenes that way seems much more difficult.
That, however, is a bit of a sidetrack, though one I expect to return to at a later date. The point is that setting up a sequence of scenes that are not directly correlated can do a lot of work. Not only can it motivate the reader by transferring the excitement for one sequence across portions of the other scenes, but also by creating meaning itself. Foe example, in the above sequence, it might be possible to draw meaning from the connection between the two parents in the scene and the fact that the son is in a seperate narrative. The fact that the center of the parent's story is about the phone, a symbol of communication, could be significant in that, as well. Just by setting the scenes against each other, it might be possible to communicate a far deeper amount of subtext, and to correlate the reader's responses to the different scenes. It is a way of managing the responses of a reader and of creating meaning through the connections and juxtapositions. And, of course, it allows for more complex stories that follow multiple characters and events throughout.
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