Tension in Your Protagonist's Ordinary World
What falling into a snowbank has to do with character agency, stakes, and scene structure.
Dear Vi,
The other morning I got up early to walk our new dog, Bella. We don’t have a fenced yard, so mornings in the wintertime begin with bundling up and heading out into the snow. My goal was simple: give Bella a good long walk so she’ll be happy and settled for a few hours, allowing me to get some work done before having to take her out again.
But about half-way through our walk, I stepped wrong and went straight down into a snowdrift. At first I couldn’t get up because there was nothing solid under my hands to push against. Meanwhile, Bella was bouncing around like this was the best game ever, and somewhere in all that excited dancing she lost one of her booties (when it’s -25, she needs booties to keep her feet warm). So now she’s hopping around on three feet with cold toes and being no help whatsoever.
This made me think about the way writers can be confused over the need to show tension in an every-day sort of scene. For example, the opening scene in a novel, where you’re told that you need to 1) show the protagonist in their everyday world, and 2) include stakes, obstacles, and tension. It’s a bit crazy-making if you’re only equating “tension” with fast, high-stakes action, because how is that showing the protagonist in their everyday world?
Here’s an easier way to think of stakes, obstacles, and tension in an everyday sort of scene, showing the protagonist in their every day world:
If my story about the snowbank was the opening scene of a novel, the structure would look something like this:
My goal: give Bella a long walk so I can get some work done (me, in my everyday world).
What stands in my way? A snowbank and a missing bootie.
Where does the tension come from? Tension lives in the gap between what I want, and what’s getting in the way of getting it.
This is also where another important concept shows up: character agency. At some point, I have to decide what to do next. Do I keep walking, determined to achieve my goal of a longer walk, even though Bella is hopping on three legs? Do I choose to give up and go home?
I chose to cut the walk short and head home.
The moment I made that decision, I was exercising agency.
Remember, stories move because characters make choices.
In my story, I showed agency by acting on the situation instead of simply lying there in the snowbank waiting for someone to rescue me.
Here’s the part you want to write on a sticky note for when you start revising:
A scene shows three simple things:
A character who wants something.
An obstacle that complicates getting it.
And the choice the character makes in response.
That small pattern—goal, obstacle, decision—is the engine of scene writing.
Even when the story begins with something as ordinary as showing your protagonist in their everyday world, taking the dog for a walk on a winter morning.
How’s your story coming along? Fell into any snowbanks lately?
xo
Nita
