top of page

Mixing and Matching Plot-Based and Non-Plot-Based Segments

Jake Unger

Updated: Jun 28, 2024


A banner reading "Mixing and Matching Segments"

The current article in this Editor's Guide to Scene Structure builds on the previous one, where we looked at the different types of segments and their various purposes. Specifically, the present article looks at the most common ways in which authors combine plot-based and non-plot-based (NPB) segments, as well as the methods used for transitioning between segments.

Arranging Plot-Based and Non-Plot-Based Segments

To clarify, this section does not discuss where different types of segments should be placed within the overall story. In other words, I don’t give advice like “It’s best to avoid writing NPB segments during the climax.” This is because every story is different in this regard, so it’s hard to make any broad recommendations.

Instead, this section explores the placement plot-based and NPB segments in relation to each other. We’re going to look at three scenarios:

  • Writing NPB segments between scenes (i.e., after the decision of one scene has occurred but before the protagonist begins their attempt to accomplish the new goal in the next scene)

  • Inserting NPB segments between plot-based segments in the middle of a scene

  • Infusing the elements of NPB segments into plot-based segments

Placing Non-Plot-Based Segments Between Scenes

As has been established throughout this series, a scene is a unit of a story beginning with a goal that the protagonist aims to accomplish and ending with a decision about what to do next.

Sometimes, a significant amount of time passes between the decision that ends one scene and the point where the protagonist starts working toward the new goal. Such gaps between scenes give the author an opportunity to insert some NPB segments to add richness to the story while the plot is at a temporary standstill.

For example, on page 160 of Leigh Bardugo’s Siege and Storm, Alina decides she will face the Darkling, ending the current scene. The plot is then paused until page 216. the fifty-six-page interval includes a string of NPB segments that accomplish several tasks, including:

  • Alina and her allies travel toward Os Alta (transition).

  • Some tension is built between Alina and Nikolai (relationship-building).

  • We get some of Nikolai’s backstory (character development).

  • It is hinted that Mal, Alina’s current love interest, has some doubts that Alina can resist Nikolai’s charms (relationship-building, foreshadowing).

  • Alina complains that the Apparat has created false hope and that the pilgrims shouldn’t be following her, but the group of followers continues to grow (setup for a future scene).

Of note, long trips are a great place to insert NPB segments since it’s often impossible for the protagonist to begin working toward their next goal until they reach their destination. In the example above, Alina’s first step in her long-term goal of facing the Darkling is to gain the Ravkan King’s approval to lead the Second Army. However, she can’t ask for his approval until she gets to Os Alta, where he resides.

Interrupting Scenes with Non-Plot-Based Segments

While the gaps between scenes are a natural place to insert NPB segments, you do not need to wait for a scene to end before writing them. NPB segments very commonly occur in the middle of scenes as well.

In an early scene of Nicola Yoon’s Everything, Everything, protagonist Madeline (a girl who has been diagnosed with “bubble boy” disease) forms the deceptively significant goal of wanting to see who’s at the front door. After partly succeeding and hearing Olly ask about her (outcome), she reacts by feeling the pulse of her heart against her ribs.

Before the next plot-based segment occurs, there is a long series of NPB segments in which, among other things:

  • We learn that Madeline tends to shut out the world (character development).

  • We get some insight into Madeline’s relationship with her nurse (relationship-building).

  • Madeline gets to know Olly by watching him through the window and exchanging emails and IMs with him (relationship-building).

  • We’re given a clue that Madeline’s mom is the story’s villain (foreshadowing).

It isn’t until the eleventh day of their electronic communication that the scene is completed when Madeline and Olly express their desire to meet in person, planting the seed for the next scene’s goal.

Blending Plot-Based and Non-Plot-Based Segments

The non-plot elements of a story are often naturally infused into plot-based segments. In a story with a strong plot and carefully thought-out character arc, most of the protagonist’s actions will advance the plot and explore character simultaneously. Having segments perform double duty in this way keeps the story moving at a fast pace since there is less of a need to write segments dedicated solely to non-plot elements.

For example, there is a segment in Louis Sachar’s Holes where Stanley steals Mr. Sir’s truck as part of his goal to find Zero. This action both advances the plot and shows a change in Stanley’s character. Up until this point, Stanley was meek, and he certainly wasn’t the type to cause problems or make rash decisions like this.

Just as you can add non-plot elements to plot-based segments, you can also add plot elements to NPB segments. (I’ve talked about this already in my discussions of pseudo-scenes in previous articles in this series.) Doing this makes it feel like something is at stake, even in low-key sections of a novel.

For example, there’s a segment in Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird where Scout and Jem find a rabid dog. Atticus and Sheriff Tate arrive, and, to Scout’s surprise, Atticus is the one who takes the shot, and he does it like a pro. This conflicts with Scout’s preconceptions about her father, who, according to a claim she had made earlier, “can’t do anything.”

The primary purpose of this segment is to highlight Atticus’s courage since he “wouldn’t shoot till he had to,” which contrasts with, as Atticus puts it later, “the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand.”

Even though this occurrence has zero bearing on what happens in the rest of the story, it has a sense of conflict since there is a potentially dangerous rabid dog wandering through the neighbourhood, and it has the indication of a goal (to kill the dog before it harms anyone). These aspects keep things interesting even though this segment focuses on character.

Transitioning Between Segments

Although writing smooth transitions between segments doesn’t affect the structure of a story, it is an important skill to develop since weak transitions make a story feel choppy and amateurish. This section outlines the techniques authors most commonly use to transition from one segment to the next, namely:

  • scene and chapter breaks

  • transitional phrases

  • description

  • exposition

  • introspection

Inserting Scene and Chapter Breaks

The most obvious way for an author to indicate the end of a segment is by inserting a chapter break or a scene break. Doing this saves you the trouble of writing (and the reader of reading) text explaining that the protagonist has moved to a new location or that time has passed.

Note: Since everybody calls them “scene breaks,” that’s also what I call them in this article to avoid confusion. However, since authors often place scene breaks in the middle of scenes (according to the definition we’ve been using), they can be thought of more accurately as “segment breaks.”

Perhaps the greatest advantage of chapter and scene breaks is that they allow you to end the current segment in the middle of things. This can help you maintain an elevated level of intrigue by avoiding, for example, an awkward or dull ending to an intense conversation.

Take the following ending of a segment from Siege and Storm as an example:

I lifted my face to the sun, feeling the rush of sea air over my skin, and said, “I’m eager to be free.”

“As long as the Darkling lives, you’ll never be free. And neither will your country. You know that.”

[. . .]

“I want the choice,” I said.

“You’ll have it,” he replied. “On my word as a liar and cutthroat.” He set off across the deck but then turned back to me. “You are right about one thing, Summoner. The Darkling is a powerful enemy. You might want to think about making some powerful friends.”

And then there’s a scene break. And it’s a good thing, too. Because how is that segment going to end otherwise? Was Alina just supposed to say, “Okay. . . Well, I’ll see you around, I guess,” and then walk away?

It’s not just the ends of segments that benefit from chapter and scene breaks. These breaks also enable you to begin a segment in the middle of a conversation or activity. This way, you can skip over the boring stuff without disorienting the reader.

For instance, Chapter 24 of To Kill a Mockingbird ends with the following paragraph:

Aunt Alexandra looked across the room at me and smiled. She looked at a tray of cookies on the table and nodded at them. I carefully picked up the tray and watched myself walk to Mrs. Merriweather. With my very best company manners, I asked her if she would have some. After all, if Aunty could be a lady at a time like this, so could I.

And Chapter 25 begins as follows:

“Don’t do that, Scout. Set him out on the back steps.”

“Jem, are you crazy? . . .”

“I said set him out on the back steps.”

Sighing, I scooped up the small creature, placed him on the bottom step and went back to my cot.

Without the chapter break, the only options are to (a) add some mundane transitional text to set up the new segment or (b) confuse the hell out of the reader until they figure out there’s been a jump in time and place.

Chapter breaks that do not divide segments

Unlike scene breaks, which always indicate a shift in time and/or location, chapter breaks may or may not do this. Chapter breaks indicate to the reader that they can take a break and put down the book (and the wine, if she's my kinda gal). However, authors might place chapter breaks in the middle of a segment when they want to keep readers turning those pages—or at least keep them thinking about what’s going to happen next even after they’ve closed the book and moved on with their day.

Consider this example from R. L. Stein’s The Haunted Mask:

“What’s wrong?” Sabrina asked, concentrating on sorting her candy into piles.

Carly Beth didn’t reply. She tried prying the mask off at the neck. Then she tugged it up by the ears again.

“Carly Beth – what’s wrong? Sabrina asked, looking up from her candy.

“Help me!” Carly Beth pleaded in a shrill, frightened voice. “Please – help me! The mask – it won’t come off!”

[Chapter break]

On her knees on the carpet, Sabrina glanced up from her pile of candy bars. “Carly Beth, stop clowning around.”

“I’m not!” Carly Beth insisted, her voice shrill with panic.

Utilizing Transitional Phrases

While scene and chapter breaks have their benefits, they can interrupt the flow of a story. Therefore, they should not be used to separate two segments that are closely connected (the abovementioned use of chapter breaks to create a cliffhanger effect is an exception to the rule).

When a chapter or scene break is not appropriate, authors very often use a transitional phrase to indicate the passage of time. This transitional phrase can simply state how much time has passed (e.g., “At three o’clock. . .” or “A few minutes later. . .”). Sometimes, they indicate a shift in both time and place (e.g., “By the time they got to the hospital. . .”).

Or, you can imply that time has passed by using a phrase that includes a continuing action combined with the word “until” (e.g., “He didn’t stop running until he was sure he was safe.”) Maybe he ran for five minutes; maybe he ran for an hour. We don’t know, and it doesn’t much matter (if it does matter, the author would have to be more specific).

When the gap between segments is very short

A single second can be enough time to separate segments if the protagonist’s current activity is significantly different from their previous activity. In this case, even though the time gap is very short, a transitional phrase is still recommended since it subliminally cues the reader that a new unit of action is beginning.

In one segment in The Haunted Mask, Carly Beth returns to the store where she bought her mask. She learns how the masks were created and that hers can be removed only by a symbol of love. Then the other masks start floating in the air and moving toward her. The store owner tells her to run, which she does.

At this point, we’re dealing with a new unit of action (i.e., a new segment) since there is a drastic change in Carly Beth’s activity. Running away from the masks is very different from learning the details of their origin and the removal process.

Although there is no time gap between the two segments, the author added a transitional sentence to indicate a segment break: “A second later, she was out on the sidewalk, running through the darkness.” The mention of time, even if it’s just a second, helps the reader subconsciously understand that this is a new unit of the story, making the overall scene feel less chaotic.

Describing Scenery to Imply Movement

Another way to indicate the passage of time is to imply that time is passing while the narrator describes the scenery.

This method of transitioning between segments is the best choice when you want to give readers a more immersive experience than a transitional phrase allows. You can also use this method to set the mood or point out important elements of a location you haven’t yet shown the reader.

Take a look at the following transitional passage from To Kill a Mockingbird, which covers the distance from the Finch’s house to the bank downtown:

We went by Mrs. Dubose’s house, standing empty and shuttered, her camellias grown up in weeds and johnson grass. There were eight more houses to the post office corner.

The south side of the square was deserted. Giant monkey-puzzle bushes bristled each corner, and between them an iron hitching rail glistened under the street lights. A light shone in the county toilet, otherwise that side of the courthouse was dark. A larger square of stores surrounded the courthouse square; dim lights burned from deep within them.

Atticus’s office was in the courthouse when he began his law practice, but after several years of it he moved to quieter quarters in the Maycomb Bank building. When we rounded the corner of the square, we saw the car parked in front of the bank. “He’s in there,” said Jem.

Here, the use of description as a transitional device is a good choice because it (a) helps the reader visualize a new setting and (b) indicates that the setting is dark and isolated, which adds tension to the ensuing events.

An interesting note about the above passage: even though it covers a fairly long walking distance, it contains only two verbs describing the characters’ movement (“We went by Mrs. Dubose’s house” and “we rounded the corner”).

Using Exposition as a Transitional Tool

Since exposition is one of the less engaging things you can write, it is advantageous when you can make it perform an extra function besides presenting background info.

One such function is to indicate that time has passed. This technique is useful for glossing over a mundane but necessary activity, event, or situation that unfolds over days, weeks, or months, particularly if nothing else of note is happening in the meantime.

For example, in To Kill a Mockingbird, after Aunt Alexandra enters Scout’s life, months go by without much happening other than Scout and the town of Maycomb getting accustomed to Alexandra’s presence. The author takes this opportunity to write a 618-word passage to provide background information about Maycomb, including:

  • “Maycomb was an ancient town. It was twenty miles east of Finch’s Landing, awkwardly inland for such an old town.”

  • “Because its primary reason for existence was government, Maycomb was spared the grubbiness that distinguished most Alabama towns its size.

  • “The town remained the same size for a hundred years, an island in a patchwork sea of cottonfields and timberland.”

  • “New people so rarely settled there, the same families married the same families until the members of the community looked faintly alike.”

  • “The old citizens, the present generation of people who had lived side by side for years and years, were utterly predictable to one another: they took for granted attitudes, character shadings, even gestures, as having been repeated in each generation and refined by time.”

It takes the average reader minutes of real time to read the entire passage, and this fosters the feeling that a significant amount of time in the novel has passed. However, I would recommend against writing 600+ words of exposition in modern times unless you’ve already established an audience and you’re sure they’ll be patient with you.

Adding Introspection to Cover Time Gaps

Along with description and exposition, introspection can be used to imply the passage of time. Since it’s hard to write a character just sitting there thinking for pages at a time, you usually see introspection used to cover relatively small time gaps.

In Siege and Storm, for example, after Alina and others take off in an airship, introspection is used to cover the distance to Alkhem Bay:

I thought of what the Darkling had said to me so long ago. The age of Grisha power is coming to an end. His answer had been to turn the Fold into a weapon. But what if Grisha power could be transformed by men like Sturmhond? I looked over the deck of the Hummingbird, at the sailors and Squallers working side by side, at Tolya and Tamar seated behind those frightening guns. It wasn’t impossible.

He’s a privateer, I reminded myself. And he’d stoop to war profiteer in a second. Sturmhond’s weapons could give Ravka an advantage, but those guns could just as easily be used by Ravka’s enemies.

I was pulled from my thoughts by a bright light shining off the port bow. The great lighthouse at Alkhem Bay. We were close now. If I craned my neck, I could just make out the glittering towers of Os Kervo’s harbor.

Closing Remarks

We’ve gone over a lot of information in this series so far. If you were unfamiliar with scene structure—or even if you had some idea of how scenes work—I hope this series has enhanced your understanding.

However, if you want to really understand how to construct scenes in your own work, the best thing you can do is look at how published authors construct theirs. With that in mind, this series concludes with segment-by-segment analyses of two popular novels, starting with The Haunted Mask from the Goosebumps series in Part 5.

Comments


Thanks for subscribing!

By signing up to my mailing list, you acknowledge that you have read and understood my website's Privacy Policy.

bottom of page