NO TEA SCENES ALLOWED

Janet here. I’m a coffee drinker. Let me start my day with a jolt of caffeine and I’m raring to go. But more than that, I love the aroma. Love the sound of brewing coffee. Love the taste. So thanks, Helen, and all the Villagers who put the pot on here in Seekerville.

Though on a chilly afternoon or during an illness, I crave a cup of tea. Earl Gray is my favorite. Upon occasion I've had the privilege of attending high tea. I've even hosted my version. My delicate china teacups make me feel romantic, feminine, and slightly royal. Ruthy, I heard that snort. 

Yes, tea parties are such fun!

But tea scenes...

Deadly.

Tea scenes kill the pace. Stop the plot’s forward movement in its tracks.

By tea scenes I’m not referring to scenes where characters sit at the table drinking tea. Not the best action for story people to do, but it can work if the point of view character (i.e. the character whose head we’re in) works toward a goal that ups the conflict and moves the story forward, and whether he gets his goal or not, things get worse by the end of the scene.

So what is meant by tea scenes with or without tea in sight?

Tea scenes are when characters talk or think but nothing of importance happens. Often they’re rehashing things the reader already knows. The point of view character has no goal, at least not one pertaining to the book-length goal. The conflict doesn't escalate and things don’t get worse. In other words, if we deleted the scene, we’d lose nothing of value.

Before we go further, I'd like to share the romantic fable that my blue willow teapot depicts shown here on a platter, with it's flat surface far easier to see.

A wealthy Mandarin’s daughter fell in love with her father's accounting assistant, angering her father who planned to marry his daughter to a Duke. To keep the lovers apart, her father fired the young man and trapped his daughter behind a high fence. The Duke arrived by boat to claim his bride, bearing his gift of jewels. The ceremony would take place when the blossom fell from the willow tree.

On the eve of the wedding, the accountant disguised himself as a servant and slipped into the palace. The lovers escape with the jewels. Chased by the Mandarin, whip in hand, they ran over a bridge and escaped on the Duke's ship to a remote island where they lived happily every after. That is until the Duke learns of their location and sent soldiers to kill them. The gods, moved by their plight, transformed the lovers into a pair of doves.   

The lovers’ story is touching, filled with action and plain on my teapot, but when I cover the story with my white eyelet cozy, I lose the action and all I'm left with is a tea scene. 

The first time my critique partner said I’d written a tea scene, I defended the scene, arguing that it showed characterization. But I've learned since that the best way to show characterization is when characters actively pursue their goals that lead to conflict between the hero and heroine, making things worse. Conflict puts characters under pressure, under fire, a far better way to reveal character than in a tea scene with nothing happening but chit-chat. 

Now let me say that chit-chat or banter is fun to read and can be an effective tool to up the attraction, but if the character has no goal, he may appear witty but if nothing of importance takes place, we've stalled the plot. Chit-chat may be our goal in real life, but more is expected of our characters.  

I suspect we writers fall into writing a tea scene when we forget that the purpose of the scene we write isn't ours. Yes, we should have goals for the scene but the story is about our characters. It’s their goals that drive the plot and keep readers turning pages. While they strive to reach their goals, their actions, reactions and dialogue can be used to also fulfill our purposes. Purposes like showing characterization or attraction or snippets of back story in the midst of characters working for their goals.

I’m using an excerpt from my Love Inspired Historical Courting the Doctor’s Daughter that hopefully underscores the main points of this post.

The book opens with Mary Lawrence and Luke Jacobs going head to head—actually toe to toe—over the remedy he shows up in town peddling. To make things worse, this peddler then exhibits an odd interest in Ben, the orphan boy Mary is raising. Conflict, animosity and suspicion are front and center as Luke reacts to her attempts to thwart his goal of selling his remedy. He needs that money to fund the search for his long-lost son. His goal is to make sure the boy is okay, and then return to New York and his lab.

The following snippet is from a scene that opens with Luke leaving the town café, mauling over how to find a way to spend time with the boy Luke believes is his son. He hears the screams of a child who’s been kicked in the head by a horse. The local doc is summoned. Luke accompanies Doc, the boy and his mother to Doc’s office for stitches. Luke is surprised to see Mary is working there. This is the end of the scene after the boy and his mother have been sent home:

Doctor Lawrence tossed aside the towel and patted Mary’s hand. “Thanks for your help, daughter.”

Luke’s head jerked up. “This is your daughter?”

“Yes,” he said, his tone laced with pride. “I don’t know what I’d do without her.” He eyed Luke. 

“So, out with it, Doctor. Why aren't you practicing medicine?”

Miss Graves whirled to Luke. “You are a doctor?”

She didn't look happy about the news.

Then in the opening of the next scene in Mary’s point of view:

Mary sagged against the table. This scoundrel, the man whose remedy she’d fought, was a physician? She’d supposed her father’s reason for allowing Luke Jacobs to remain in the surgery had been to remove her burden of holding Homer. Never dreaming Luke Jacobs had earned the right. 

Her stomach clenched. Worse, this meant his remedy probably had value. If so, he possessed skills of a pharmacist and he’d attended medical school. Achievements she admired.   

But why had he kept his identity a secret? What more did he hide?

The point for sharing this passage is that I divulged information while Mary and Luke were working toward the goal of helping an injured child. Luke’s actions enabled Mary’s father to see that Luke is a doctor. You could argue that the scene didn't open with Luke wanting to help this child nor does it fit his book-length goal of finding his son. But we writers are permitted to throw our characters a curve—the twists and turns readers love—with circumstances that interrupt or even change their goals. But I hope you'll see how all this moves the story forward.

Let’s drop down a few paragraphs, still in Mary’s point of view.

Doctor Lawrence put his mug on the table. “I liked what I saw today. The gentle way you talked to the boy and his mother, the way you soothed Homer’s fear. All signs of a good doctor.” He glanced at Mary. “My daughter’s nagging me to get help with my practice so I’m sure she’ll have no objections. If you’re willing, the job is yours.”

This scene makes things worse. The man whose interest in Ben puts Mary on edge will now be underfoot daily.

Moving on to the end of the scene, Mary’s reaction shows another conflict that makes things far worse.

Luke Jacobs had been thrust into her world. The prospect flooded through her, filling her with foreboding and … worse, oh, far worse, with anticipation. Her gaze darted to Luke. She found him looking at her, his eyes dark, penetrating as if he’d read her mind. He shot her a grin. Inside her chest, her heart tripped then tumbled. Mary sped out of the surgery, barely able to take it in.

Luke Jacobs would be working with her father.

With her. 

In this office.

Every day.

She wanted to scream no, yet how could she protest when she’d badgered her father to slow down?

Mary’s stomach lurched. Luke Jacobs couldn't be God’s answer to her prayer.

He was exactly the wrong man.

One of Mary’s reactions is attraction. The romance is not the plot, but the romance should complicate the plot. This attraction to a rogue complicates the plot for Mary. She is attracted to the man who could destroy her. Not that she comprehends that yet but she senses Luke will bring terrible trouble into her life. And she's right.

But what about Luke? The snippets from these two scenes appear to bring good fortune for him. He needs money so the job is a blessing. Better yet, the job means he’ll be working with the woman he suspects is raising his son. What could be better? But then the job means he’ll have to attend church, get involved with patients, and stay in town longer than he’d planned. Luke is a pro at detachment and prefers a laboratory.

Worse, Luke is carrying a secret and staying will put that secret at risk.

Worse yet, Luke will care about Mary, which makes things so much worse. 

I hope these excerpts show that actions create reactions. These actions/reactions are the building blocks of story. Actions that relate to a character’s goals will feel logical. Exciting. The reader will feel the adrenalin rush of moving forward, of finding out more, of getting to the inevitable Black Moment, then plowing through victorious with the characters in the Resolution.

One thing I love about Courting the Doctor’s Daughter is the conflict between the hero and heroine is built in. The hero is the father of the heroine’s foster child. It’s inevitable that these two are on a collision course. Stories with two dogs and one bone—in this case Ben is the bone, poor kid--offer rich possibilities for emotional conflict.  

So do I still write tea scenes? You bet. I find tea scenes easier to slip into than rundown slippers. The reason “Do as I say, not as I do” is a popular adage. LOL 

Before I write a scene, I write the point of view character’s goal at the top of the page so I won't forget that no tea scenes are allowed.  

So what can I do if I read over a scene and realized it had no point?

Sometimes we should just delete them.

Here’s a scene I wrote for Courting the Doctor’s Daughter. Mary’s book-length goal is to attend medical school as she takes care of her sons. His book-length goal is to find his son and make sure he receives good care. Now that Luke knows Mary desires to attend medical school, he believes her goal will diminish her ability to nurture his son.

 

Standing out in the hall, Luke overheard that Mary’s application had been accepted. She would let someone else take care of her sons and for what? To pursue a career? Didn't she realize how much they needed her right now? 

Nor did she have any idea of how high the price would be to become a doctor, how mentally and physically exhausting. “Your father is just being realistic.”

Mary whirled to where Luke stood in the doorway. “How dare you listen in on our private conversation?”

“If you didn't want me to hear, you should have closed the door.” He stepped into the room. 

“Doc is right. Medical school will drain you, leave nothing for your sons.”

“My sons are fine and my business.”

Leveling his gaze on her, he said, “Philip’s stomachaches are manageable but hardly resolved. Michael will feel all the more responsible if you’re away so much. I can’t believe you’d put anything before your sons’ welfare.”

Doc shoved his plate aside and rose to his feet. “My daughter is putting nothing in front of her boys. I know her better than you do, Luke. If she begins medical school, she’ll handle it and still be a wonderful parent.”

“I have no intention of standing here listening to you two discuss my worthiness as a mother,” Mary said, pushing past Luke.

The outside door slammed.

Morris and Luke’s gazes met and Morris’ gaze reflected the dismay knotting in Luke’s stomach. “I’m sorry, Morris. I shouldn't have said anything.”

“Well, bring in the first patient. I need to see to my little girl.”  

“You go on. I’ll take care of the afternoon appointments.”

Doc plucked his hat from the hall tree. “See you tomorrow.”

As Luke called in Mr. Kelly, complaining about pain in his back from lifting a laundry basket, he regretted implying Mary couldn't be a good mother and attend medical school. Perhaps if her sons weren't suffering from the loss of their father—

No, something told him there was more to the story than how Mary’s husband had died. 

Could the problems Philip and Michael had, have more to do with their life with their father than with his death? Luke saw in Mary, the very thing he struggled with—an inability to get close. And in her sons, an anxiety he didn't understand.

What kind of man was Sam Graves? Luke intended to find out.

When my critique partner saw this short scene, she said: I don’t see the point of this scene at all. It just reiterates the argument she and Luke had before, doesn't move anything forward and does not up the stakes at all.

Ouch. But, then no pain, no gain.

In this example, I just deleted the scene. Mainly because Luke not only didn't have a scene goal for himself, but the conflict was redundant. He and Mary had discussed her dream in other scenes that were stronger. Another point I want to make. Not all tea scenes are conflict free. There's conflict in this one, but it doesn't move the plot forward. Not all tea scenes are cozy chit-chat. Some are arguments. But that doesn't work unless there's forward movement with the plot.

Sometimes scenes are salvageable. 

We write them. We can fix them.   

Take a look at a tea scene you've written with fresh eyes. Rip off that tea cozy and look at the pot. Think about the young accounting assistant, the Mandarin, his daughter and the Duke. They all had goals. 

What goal could you give your hero and heroine that you can play out in this scene that you've already written that will make the scene active and forward the plot? 

Make that goal fit the book-length goal. Make that goal add conflict and make things worse. You can do it! 

If you have an argument in the scene you've already written and it isn't redundant, then it's worth saving. Just make sure the dialogue fits the goal of the point of view character. 

I brought eggs and bacon, sweet rolls and tomato juice. Our breakfast's clear-cut goal is to fill our stomachs and feed our brains. Just in case they might confuse the issue, no scrambled eggs allowed. LOL I’m behind the grill. Order them any way you like them.

For a chance to win a copy of Courting the Doctor’s Daughter, leave a comment. If you have questions about my post, ask. If you’re not sure if a scene is of the tea variety, ask. Let’s chat. Even chit-chat is welcome!