Did you ever think about what happens to an unsuspecting reader when a scene changes? He’s been comfortable, hanging around and experiencing your story, aware of where he is, when he is, and through whose eyes he’s seeing/hearing/feeling things, when all of a sudden one scene ends and another begins. Your poor reader is snatched out of his comfort zone, zoomed through time and space, and is plunged into a new scene. God—er, um, YOU, only know where he is now. He may crash into the same physical space he’s just vacated—or he may end up across the globe or even in a new galaxy. Five seconds may have passed—or ten days or a dozen centuries. Even more jolting, he could now be seeing and hearing and smelling through a different body.
- Whose eyes he’s now seeing things through (if you employ a single viewpoint character throughout the manuscript, this is not necessary)
- Who is present
- What our characters look like (this is something that we usually sprinkle throughout a story, receiving bits and pieces of information as we go and is more or less important depending upon genre).
- Where he is in general—such as the city, state, country. If this general location has not been visited previously, we may need more information, such as if it’s rural, big city, etc.
- Location, specific: if inside, where he is, such as in a living room or inside a diner. If outside, if he’s in a vehicle, hiking, etc.
- Time period: the decade he’s in. (If this does not change throughout the manuscript, you do not need to re-establish this).
- Time of year: spring, summer, fall, winter—or actual month
- General time of day: morning, afternoon, evening, night
- Weather, if it affects the story in any way (and it usually does)
Additionally, the reader may need to know the date or the day of week, as well as any historically relevant happenings on that day. For example, if this scene occurs on September 11, 2001, and no mention is made of the collapse of the twin towers, your reader is going to question your integrity. I call providing this information grounding your reader, as it allows your reader to simply relax and become a part of the story instead of floating around in space, desperately trying to figure out where and when he is and through whose eyes he’s seeing.
- Ray is our viewpoint character. We’re going to be seeing, hearing, smelling, feeling, and thinking through him.
- We are in a crowded bar.
- Ray and Gary are on a stage. They are brothers. They have a band.
- Ray sits on a stool center stage, plays guitar, and is the speaker for the group. He also drinks. A lot.
- Ray’s brothers Danny and Joey are also in the band.
- Joey is tall and slender with long hair and facial hair. He normally plays keyboard, but right now, he’s playing the drums.
- Ray has a goatee.
- Gary normally plays bass guitar, but he’s playing keyboard.
- We have a problem—in addition to all those drinks waiting to be swallowed. Danny is missing. Because his brothers have switched instruments and are smiling, we’re pretty sure everyone but Ray is in on what is about to happen. But something is about to happen.
We need to talk about item number one above. How does the reader know so quickly that Ray is our viewpoint character? This is important. He knows Ray is the viewpoint character because Ray is the first character mentioned by name. Your reader will subconsciously assume the first character mentioned will be the viewpoint character. So you must do your part and honor this agreement by mentioning your viewpoint character’s name before anyone else’s.