This year’s Worldcon ended on Sunday, with a sadly typical series of unfortunate events occurring at the Hugo ceremony. Other folks are talking about that, and while I certainly agree with the chorus, adding my voice to it seldom feels necessary. I’ll say instead: check out the amazing khōréō and So Let Them Burn by Kamilah Cole.

I attended virtually this year, and got to see a lot of interesting panels and speakers. I’m not sure I can do any of them justice in a recap, but topics ranged from medieval astronomy to sex in dark fiction. Thankfully, the Discord server is staying open long enough for me to pull notes together so I can peruse them at my leisure later.

A big part of the fun was getting to chat with other attendees in the Discord, both during and between events. It’s one of the reasons people go to conventions: the camaraderie. You’re not merely ships passing in the halls; you’re travelers journeying together, exchanging stories like Chaucer’s pilgrims, bonding over shared interests and diverse experiences.

Big thanks to everyone who attended my reading; I hope you enjoyed the sneak peek of Witch You Would! And thanks also to everyone who came to the panel on writing classes and workshops, which was a wonderful and informative conversation among the panelists. I’m going to add a few things to my Resources page based on what was discussed, and if anyone wants my longer notes, just drop a comment.

Two weeks to book birthday! Gasp!

I got an email from a writer who took one of my classes, and who wanted to know how to take a plot outline and turn it into chapters and scenes. I linked them to an anatomy of a scene post that I think does a good job breaking down one useful and streamlined approach to scene structure*.

This method posits that every scene should have three components: a goal, a conflict, and a disaster. Essentially, you should have a character trying to accomplish something, struggling against obstacles and antagonists, and ultimately failing to achieve their goal. That failure leads to the sequel, which is a different kind of scene in which the character reacts to what just happened, is faced with a difficult choice, and decides how to move forward. That leads to another scene with a new goal, etc., repeat this cycle until you reach The End.

The “disaster” part described in the link above is also sometimes called the try-fail cycle. If the character simply succeeds at their goal every time, there may not be enough tension and suspense to keep the reader turning the page. But if all they do is fail, then you don’t have a story, either, because they’re just spinning their wheels.

Here’s where I like to apply a model I learned from tabletop gaming. Instead of a disaster, each scene can end with an outcome ranging from extreme failure to extreme success.

The failure can be simply that the character didn’t manage to do the thing they set out to do; the mountain pass is blocked, and they have to find another path, perhaps a more dangerous one. Or they can somehow make their situation worse than it was when they started; they trigger an avalanche that sweeps them off the mountain and buries them under a ton of snow, and now they have to dig themselves out before they suffocate.

They can also have a qualified failure or success. Maybe they don’t manage to achieve the goal, but their failure points them in the right direction or provides some useful boon or new ally. The mountain pass is blocked, but a strange hermit will guide them… for a price. Or they succeed, but at a cost that immediately affects them or will become a problem later—an injury that needs treating, a new enemy on their trail, a Chekhov’s gun that will go off at the worst possible time.

They can also do the thing by the end of the scene, even if it’s difficult and they try and fail at least once, or they can do the thing stunningly well because they’re awesome and why shouldn’t they. Sometimes you do have to let your characters showcase their talents!

Usually, the qualified failures/successes are the most versatile scene outcomes, because they maintain tension but also keep the plot moving forward instead of hitting a wall. But you do want to sprinkle in the other options at the places where they’d be most dramatically appropriate.

If you’re going by a beat sheet, for example, then a total failure scene should probably happen around the midpoint and/or during the All Is Lost/Dark Night of the Soul beats. You might have an amazing success at the midpoint instead, only for the victory to end up souring, or the character’s arc being one where the success at their goal isn’t the end of their story. You might even have multiple goals and outcomes within a scene, some succeeding and some failing, though you have to be careful not to cram too much in one place.

The degrees of disaster, their vibes and variations, will depend on what kind of story you’re trying to tell. A grimdark story may have more total failures with terrible consequences that really twist the knife; a romcom may have more funny fail-forward situations; a political space opera may have complex machinations where each win or loss causes both visible and unknown ripple effects.

Your goal, as the writer, is to keep the reader interested and invested in every scene. As long as you’re doing that, you’ve succeeded!

*Not the only way, certainly. There is no One Right Way, and as the saying goes, anyone who tells you otherwise is selling something.