Your Scene Starts Here
On the subject of literary throat clearing.
Unnecessary Setup
This year, I’ve started using blue as a mean color when I give feedback to my students, mentees, and clients. I highlight all the unnecessary setup at the top of the scene in blue. Then I put in [YOUR SCENE STARTS HERE] when I finally discover the Inciting Incident. This blue-ness is what fellow editor Anne Hawley taught me to describe as literary throat clearing.
We all do it. Throats need to be cleared. The difference between amateurs and pros is that pros delete that shit and don’t inflict it on their readers.
My mental hygienist might say that I’m passing along my trauma, since my very first editor, Phil Athans, did exactly that to the opening 950 words of my very first novel—words that I was inordinately [and, in retrospect, shamefully] proud of. He turned on Track Changes in Word, deleted the offending words, and added a comment below them: “Your story starts here. Burn those words. Do not save them in file. Do not keep them. Do not tell anyone you ever wrote them.” All my protestations and hurt feelings and mean things I said about his parentage to the contrary, Phil was not wrong.
Sorry about the yo-mama comments back in 2011, Phil. I’m sure she’s a queen among women. I’m working through my literary twelve steps now. 😐
Yesterday, Seth Godin dropped the mic on the same subject. He described the very human phenomenon in general about life and business and marketing. Which inspired me to write this post for you.
Don’t I need a transition?
No.
I know you think you do. I know your English teacher lied to you in every class you’ve ever taken in the Education Industrial Complex. I know you want to write it. Go ahead. Write it. Figure out what happened since the last scene and how we got here and what this means in the grand cosmological and sociopolitical sense of the blah-blah-blah. You, the author, probably need to know it, so fine. Indulge yourself.
Then delete that shit.
In case you forgot who Sam is, here’s the post where I first talk about them.
Sam doesn’t need to know anything about the transition before the action starts. If and only if there is actually some piece of information that Sam needs to have to make sense of the action you’re about to write for this scene, you blend it in to the Inciting Incident. Deliver it as part of the action. Make it matter.
Don’t I need to set the stage?
No.
You do not need to describe the setting for paragraphs and pages. Go back and read the “I know you think you do.” paragraph above in the transition section. I’m too lazy to copy and paste the same words. 🙄 If you feel like you need to indulge yourself to figure out where the hell you’re putting the characters, then describe the setting.
Then, repeat after me: Delete that shit.
You’re writing a novel, not filming a movie. Even in a screenplay, the writer who actually sells screenplays in Hollywood or Bollywood doesn’t write stage dressing—that’s somebody else’s job. The super power of the novelist is co-creation with Sam. If you over-describe, Sam can’t participate in helping to imagine the story. I hate to tell you this (not true, I love it because I am a mean man!) but Sam is skimming that boring shit anyway because they intuitively know it’s irrelevant because it’s not action.
Sam only needs to read what’s in the scene that’s relevant to the action of the scene. Focus on Sam. Focus on the action of the scene. If you work in construction, you know that YOU DO NOT DECORATE WHILE YOU’RE BUILDING THE HOUSE. While you’re drafting your scene, you’re in construction. Don’t worry what color the curtains are until you actually know if the windows even matter. Maybe there aren’t any windows at all!
If there needs to be sand on the floor of the arena because a character is going to pick up a fist full of sand and throw it into someone’s eyes, fine. Add the sandy floor. Otherwise, it’s Chekhov’s Sand and you wasted those words. I’ll write a post someday about the neurological reasons for this, but this is not that post. (See how annoying it is to have irrelevant shit in the scene?)
Make every word count.
Antagonism Must Move First
Your scene actually starts when the antagonist does something to disrupt the protagonist. Full stop.
Don’t bore Sam with anything else. Just get to the story! Start with something like:
Tuesday afternoon, the tornado roared down out of the hill country toward Bubba’s shiny new trailer.
Or write something equally or more antagonistic! Whatever your first force of antagonism is, make it move. And make every word matter. In that one sentence, I have established the time transition, shown the antagonist move first, set the scene, pointed to the likely protagonist, and established the stakes of the conflict in sixteen words. I could probably cut some of them. Feel free to drop a comment and tell me which words might be unnecessary!
This is true whether your antagonist is a force of nature, a social concept, a political organization in the environment, a supervillain, or a soccer mom. I hear the smart ass in the back asking about the Man Versus Self stories—if you think that you have the writing chops to pull that off, then go for it…just don’t ask me to be your editor. 🥱
Subconsciously, Sam will register the first mover as the likely antagonist in every scene. We know this because it is inscribed in the Homo narrans storytelling DNA: Heroes don’t punch first, villains do. Antagonists act. Protagonists react or respond.
Until the antagonist shows up and does something to disrupt the status quo, Sam will be bored. Just make it a rule in your writing:
Never bore Sam.
What’s next?
Try this out with your next scene. It might feel hard. It might feel weird. It might even hurt to delete some shit. (Trust me: I know it hurts.) You might have to break some [bad] long-ingrained writing habits.
I believe in you. You can do this. You can turn pro.
Stop clearing your literary throat and just start the scene!
Want help with your story?
If the Nine Circles of Revision Hell seem daunting to you, you’re not alone. They can be a slog, even when you’ve done them many times. For a lot of writers, the editing process is the most painful part of publishing. I’m weird. I enjoy it! But I’m aware that not everyone does. If you don’t get off on revisions or if you don’t even know where to start, let me help you.
I’m a Story Grid Certified Editor and founding member of the Story Grid Guild. I’ve been helping my clients with developmental editing of their novels and screenplays as well as chapter-by-chapter scene coaching for their works-in-progress since 2020. I joined the staff of the Story Grid Scene Writing Workshop as a coach in June 2024 and the Story Grid Writer Mentorship cadre as a mentor in January 2025.
I’m available for hire. Book a campfire chat and let’s see if we might be compatible story adventuring companions.