Anatomy of a Scene : Prologue of the final Arilon book

Finding the right way to start a book is difficult at the best of times. But when you're trying to kick off the final book in a series that has run for over a decade, the task is ten times harder..!

The current opening scene is, I think, the fourth or fifth different opening scene I've had in the last seven months. But I am hopeful that I've finally landed on the one that will greet readers when they open the first page of the book this Christmas. (Funnily enough, the chapters that follow it have been pretty stable for a long time).

This snippet from the scene is a first draft (well, okay, in preparation for sharing it, I've tidied it up a little... so maybe draft 1.5) but it's part of a scene structure I thought it would be interesting to share from a writing and reading point of view.

So, here it is;

The sun moved very slowly but also, incredibly fast. The old man worked the brush across the page, trying to capture both the speed and the eternal slowness of the sunrise. And not just the sunrise, but what it represented. All the islands of Arilon moving ever so slowly around the sun and each other, held together by the Life Lines. Valia, moving slowly past Phobos, Boricia sailing serenely past Imperia. Savis and Fortis dancing ever so elegantly across the sky of dangerous Peligra. All the Idea Islands of creation singing and sliding so slowly around each other. So slowly, and yet so, so, blindingly fast.

He looked at his painting. It was a pale imitation of the real thing. He had tried, in vain, to capture Arilon’s beauty. It was a task always destined for failure. And so the full majesty of Arilon’s last ever sunrise was only seen by his eyes. Soon, the music of life would stop and the dance of the islands would come to an end.

The end of Arilon approached.

"Hello, old man," said the cacophony of voices.

Ah. It was here already.

In the interests of brevity, I've cut several sentences out of it, but you still get the genereal gist - an old man tries, and fails, to capture the beauty of Arilon's final sunrise.

The identity of the man and his ominous visitor are revealed as the prologue continues - but even more important than what happens in a scene is how the scene is shaped. If it feels 'clunky' or 'rushed' or 'floaty' then the events don't land well.

A story should always have a beginning, middle and end - essentially, three acts - and I think every chapter should conform to that too. And going even smaller, so should every scene. What you can see above is the end of a scene but it's also the middle of the chapter. Or another way of putting it; it's Act 3 (the final act) of the opening scene, but only Act 2 of the chapter.

Describing someone painting is okay, but in an action adventure story, it has to be leading to (or at least related to) something more dynamic / dramatic. The early-morning calm of the start of the scene moves into the more active part of the old man painting the sunrise. And finally, it climaxes with the arrival of a dangerous individual. The second half of the chapter follows their conversation which itself has a calm beginning, more active middle and very action-filled end. And the shape of the chapter hopefully leads to the events hitting the reader with maximum drama and impact.

So, hopefully, I've given a brief glimpse into how being aware of story shape can help build tension and drama - even if you're just applying it to a single scene!

Depending how the writing goes, I may share the entire prologue here in the 88Tales blog at some point. It's the kind of prologue that would work equally well as a teaser for the book, as it would as an opening chapter. We'll see. It might still just end up being the latest prologue to get binned. Such is the writing life!

See you next time!

Wilf