Writing a book is easy. Writing a book people actually want to read? That’s where things get messy. Most writers start with a great idea, a killer protagonist, and a decent sense of "vibe," but then they hit page 50 and the whole thing just... sags. It’s like a souffle that didn't rise. You have characters sitting in coffee shops talking about their feelings for three chapters, and suddenly you realize nothing is actually happening. This is exactly why the Make a Scene book by Jordan Rosenfeld has stayed on the desks of professional novelists for nearly two decades.
It’s not just another craft book. It’s a tactical manual for the "middle" of your story—that giant, terrifying swamp where most manuscripts go to die.
Honestly, the problem most of us have isn't a lack of imagination. It's that we don't understand the "scene" as the fundamental unit of story. We think in terms of chapters or plot points, but a novel is really just a series of interconnected explosions. If the individual scenes don't have tension, the whole book feels like a long walk to nowhere. Rosenfeld’s approach is basically a masterclass in making sure every page earns its keep.
The Scene vs. The Summary: What You're Probably Getting Wrong
Most amateur manuscripts suffer from "summary-itis." You've seen it. It’s when the writer tells us that the main character had a long, difficult day at work, felt sad about their divorce, and then went home to eat cold pizza. That’s boring. It’s information, not experience.
The Make a Scene book beats you over the head with a simple truth: if it's important, it has to happen in real-time. Rosenfeld breaks scenes down into what she calls the "Scene Launch," the "Scene Middle," and the "Scene Ending." It sounds basic, but you’d be surprised how many people forget to actually give their scenes a middle. They start with a bit of dialogue and then just sort of trail off into internal monologue for four pages.
Think about it this way. A scene is a microcosm of your entire novel. It needs a goal, an obstacle, and a change in emotional state. If your character walks into a room the same way they walk out, you haven’t written a scene. You’ve written a transition. And transitions are where readers close the book and go check TikTok.
Rosenfeld focuses heavily on the "significant detail." She argues that you don't need to describe every piece of furniture in the room. You just need the one detail that tells us everything we need to know about the character's headspace. If a character is grieving, they don't just "see a photo." They see the layer of dust on the frame that their late spouse used to clean every Sunday. That’s the difference between a writer and a storyteller.
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Why "Make a Scene" Works When Other Craft Books Fail
I’ve read Save the Cat. I’ve read Story by Robert McKee. They’re great for structure, sure. But they don't tell you how to write the actual sentences that keep a reader's heart rate up. The Make a Scene book is obsessed with the mechanics of tension.
One of the best things about Rosenfeld's perspective is her breakdown of different scene types. She doesn't just treat every scene as a generic block of text. She categorizes them:
- Suspense Scenes: Where the reader knows something the character doesn't, or vice versa.
- Dramatic Scenes: Where the conflict is internal but manifested through external action.
- Contemplative Scenes: These are the ones everyone messes up. Rosenfeld shows you how to make a character think without it being a "data dump."
She uses examples from people like Flannery O’Connor and Alice Munro. It’s not just theory; it’s looking at the DNA of successful prose. She talks about "the energetic marker"—the moment in a scene where the energy shifts. If you can't find that marker in your own writing, you probably need to delete the scene. Harsh? Maybe. But necessary if you want to get published.
I've talked to plenty of writers who feel "stuck" in their second act. Usually, it's because they've lost track of their character's immediate scene goal. They know the character wants to save the world (the global goal), but they don't know what the character wants in this kitchen at 10:00 PM. Rosenfeld forces you to answer that question. Do they want a glass of water? Do they want their partner to stop looking at their phone? Every scene needs a "micro-desire."
The Myth of the "Slow" Chapter
People often defend boring writing by saying, "Oh, it's just a slow chapter for character development."
Rosenfeld basically calls BS on that. Character development is action. If a character is changing, they should be doing something that proves that change. If your character is becoming more courageous, show them finally confronting the neighbor about the barking dog. Don't just tell us they "felt more confident."
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The Make a Scene book emphasizes that every scene must move the plot forward OR deepen character, and ideally, it should do both simultaneously. If a scene only does one, it’s a "utility scene," and those should be kept to a minimum. If it does neither? Delete it. Immediately. Don't look back.
Let's talk about dialogue for a second. Rosenfeld points out that dialogue in a scene shouldn't be "realistic" in the sense of how people actually talk (which is mostly "um," "uh," and "how's the weather?"). It should be "stylized reality." Every line should be a move in a chess game. If a character asks a question, the other character shouldn't necessarily answer it. They might deflect, or attack, or walk away. That’s how you build a scene.
Practical Steps: How to Use This in Your Current Draft
If you’re sitting there with a 300-page manuscript that feels a little "meh," don't panic. You don't have to rewrite the whole thing from scratch. You can apply the principles of the Make a Scene book scene by scene. It’s actually a pretty meditative process once you get into it.
First, go through your manuscript and identify the "beats" of each scene. A beat is a change in behavior or emotion. If a scene has no beats, it’s flat. You need to inject a conflict. It doesn't have to be a fistfight. It can be a subtle power struggle over who gets to sit in the comfortable chair.
Second, look at your beginnings and endings. Are you "entering late and leaving early"? This is a classic screenwriting rule that Rosenfeld adapts beautifully for fiction. Most writers start a scene too early (the character waking up, brushing their teeth, driving to the meeting) and stay too long (the character saying goodbye, driving home, thinking about the meeting). Cut the fluff. Start the scene right as the conflict begins. End it right after the climax of the scene, leaving the reader wanting to know the consequence.
Third, check your "sensory palette." Are you using all five senses? Most of us lean heavily on sight and sound. Rosenfeld encourages writers to use smell and touch to ground the reader in the "here and now." It makes the scene feel visceral.
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What Most People Miss About Rosenfeld’s Strategy
It’s easy to think of "making a scene" as just adding drama. But it's actually about rhythm. A novel that is 100% high-octane action is just as exhausting as one that is 100% internal monologue. Rosenfeld teaches you how to vary the "intensity" of your scenes so the reader can breathe.
The real secret sauce in the Make a Scene book is the concept of "Scene Sequences." This is how you bridge the gap between a single scene and the overall plot. You group scenes into clusters that achieve a mid-level goal. It makes the daunting task of writing 80,000 words feel like building a Lego set—one small, manageable block at a time.
Honestly, the most valuable part of the book might be the exercises. They aren't the fluff you find on "writer's prompt" websites. They’re targeted drills. One might ask you to take a boring scene and rewrite it using only subtext. Another might force you to write a scene where the characters are physically doing something (like fixing a car) while discussing something unrelated (like their failing marriage). That’s how you get that "human-quality" depth that AI still struggles to replicate.
Actionable Insights for Your Writing
Instead of just nodding along, try these specific tactics from the Rosenfeld playbook today:
- Identify the "Power Player": In every scene, one person has more power than the others. Does that power shift by the end of the scene? If not, find a way to make the underdog push back.
- The Three-Pronged Conflict: Ensure your scene has an internal conflict (the character's fear), an external conflict (the broken elevator), and an interpersonal conflict (the person they're stuck with).
- Audit Your Adverbs: If you’re using adverbs to describe how someone speaks ("he said angrily"), you’ve failed to write a strong scene. The dialogue and the actions should make the anger obvious.
- Check the "Clock": Does the scene have a sense of urgency? If there's no ticking clock, the characters will just talk in circles. Give them a deadline.
Writing a novel is a marathon, but the Make a Scene book reminds us that it's a marathon made of sprints. If you focus on making every single scene as tight and compelling as possible, the book will eventually take care of itself. Stop worrying about the "Grand Theme" for a minute and just worry about whether your character is going to get what they want in the next five pages. That’s how you keep people reading until 3:00 AM.