“How do you manage your subplots?” somebody asked me a while back. “How do you decide when and where to put in a subplot scene, and how long to wait between them?” Apparently, her novel had about eight different subplots, and she was worried about going two or more chapters without “checking in” on the progress of any one subplot (and that’s without even considering how to keep her central plotline moving in amongst all those subplot scenes).
A lot of the time, this kind of problem seems to result from a sort of hyper-focus on doing one and only one thing at a time, which is unfortunately encouraged by some of the “writing systems” I’ve been looking at lately. One of them lays out in very specific detail at what point the writer should introduce the first subplot (Scene 2, Chapter 2), how many main plot scenes to do before coming back to the subplot, when to start the third subplot, how many subplots you can fit in a book of a given wordcount, and so on.
It’s not so much the inflexibility of this approach that bothers me (it wouldn’t work for me or for most of the pros I know, but I’m perfectly willing to believe it works for the author who’s promoting it). It’s that it treats every scene as necessarily one-note – focused on advancing one, and only one, plotline. Either these writers have never learned to multitask, or they have really bad memories.
Every bit of every scene can serve multiple purposes and advance multiple plotlines. Let me give you an example from the current WIP:
They had reached the tavern and Rache pushed the door open. The room inside was large and surprisingly well-lit. Long tables occupied much of the floor; most of them were filled. Like everything else Kayla had seen in Zaradwin, the room looked shabby and run-down, but unlike the castle, people seemed relaxed, even cheerful. The pleasant buzz of conversation broke off as the door opened, and someone called, “Rache! You made it!”
That paragraph comes from the opening of a scene devoted to Rache’s subplot. Superficially, it’s just a basic description of the main room of the tavern. But it includes a reminder that my main character, Kayla, is new here (“Like everything else Kayla had seen in Zaradwin,”), a hint at the upcoming economic plotline (“the room looked shabby and run-down”), a reminder/hint that she has a lot of problems and subplots waiting back at the castle (“unlike the castle, people seemed relaxed”), and a return to Rache’s plotline in the last sentence. The number of patrons and their apparent good mood is also of potential significance, though I’m not certain how or even whether I’ll be using it. That’s four, maybe five, plotlines tied into one paragraph.
In the scene that follows, Kayla meets a new character who kicks off her own new subplot. Their conversation refers to at least three more subplot lines and furthers the main plot…all in a scene that is “about” Rache’s subplot. That’s at least eight plots and subplots brought up in two pages – four in the conversation, the new character’s subplot, the economic subplot, the “back at the castle” group of subplots, and Rache’s. Kayla’s mood and the information she gathers is also important to her emotional subplot, even though it’s not explicitly mentioned, so that’s nine. Ten, if you count the fact that what happens in this scene is the reason she ends up having a huge fight with her mother later, which is a different emotional subplot.
I didn’t have to work exceptionally hard to shoehorn all of this stuff into the scene, or juggle it. On the contrary; I really only noticed it when I went looking for a good example for this post. It just happened as I wrote, because those subplots and plotlines were on Kayla’s mind (and mine). They’re not isolated in separate cells like honey in a honeycomb; they’re all mixed together like the flavors in a really good stew or soup.
In other words, from the point of view of the main character, the main plot and all the subplots don’t happen in tidy, discreetly isolated incidents. They’re all happening at once, all the time. Sure, one or two will be central to any given scene, but that doesn’t mean the character completely forgets about or ignores all the others for the duration. And all of the plotlines affect each other, even if only tangentially. Rache’s subplot has nothing to do with Kayla’s relationship with her mother, but the actions she’s taking here to further Rache’s plot end up causing that argument I mentioned. Which, in turn, changes some of Kayla’s actions and reactions as regards the main plotline. It’s all connected.
When I once tried to do a scene-by-scene outline of a finished novel, designating whether each scene was advancing Plot A, Plot B, or Plot C (or backstory or characterization), I had a dreadful time deciding if this bit was more focused on A or B, or if that bit of C in a mostly-A scene merited listing the scene as both, or so on. This post perhaps illustrates why.
(Also: Yay, tags! And navigation links!)
I have heard of doing it the other way around; does the scene advance less than three things? Cut it.
But yes, by all means; more than one thing ought to go on at one time.
The problem with that maxim is that, like many such directives, it takes a good idea to an unnecessary extreme. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with having an occasional scene that only does one thing (usually plot, though I suppose character or setting could work, too).
Now, if one has lots and lots of one-thing-only scenes, that’s a problem; but even then, wholesale slaughter is not necessarily the answer. One might profitably combine several such scenes, or expand them to do multiple duties.
I entirely agree that the idea can be taken to an unnecessary extreme. (I have a tendency to apply that rule to sentences.)
I do think that the idea that a scene _can_ do one thing is dubious; it should at least be advancing the character(s) of its actors and the context of events, whatever particular event is occurring.
Well, it’s probably best if it’s a very short scene. 😉
I suppose it also depends on where you draw the line between one thing and another. In an all-plot scene, for example, the fact that this character takes this action in this way says something about who the character is, their background and their priorities. Or an all-character scene might reveal their background and priorities, which will impact the action they chose to take later…. So yes, it’s arguably impossible for a scene to do only one thing, depending on how fuzzy one is about the distinctions.
Its a bit different in a short story. Not MUCH different but you don’t have the words to waste going off on a tangent. So every scene must be critical to the main point. Any “side plots” you want to squeeze in need to be layered like this.
This is a good way to think about how to make room for side plots in shorter lengths.