Introduction
Somewhere close, an ant is scaling a pebble. Somewhere further, stars are tearing apart, comets are obliterating planets, and the shrapnel is tumbling soundlessly through the darkness at a rate that would make a doughnut of our little blue speck. Elephants are trumpeting. Mice are squeaking. And a chicken is merrily pecking away at the hand that strokes it. And all the while, there are a thousand angles to take, a thousand lenses to use, a thousand different transitions to show the unfolding story of Creation.
Story is all about framing. You leave things in or out. You focus on certain aspects and leave others unsaid. It is about the words you choose and the scale you choose them at. Do you choose a smoky pub in Ireland? Is it smoky? Do you choose dingy or musty or welcoming instead? Are the tweed-jacketed men staring out of the window at a descending spaceship, or are they discussing the new farmer down Clyde street?
Framing gives scale and interest and depends on voice and plot. Ava, I know you are working on a space series that spans several planets. The wide scope of Orythian Journeys interests me and I am looking forward to this conversation and learning more about framing in storytelling, language, and our own lives.
Framing a Story
The entire story can be framed at a certain scale. The scope could include space stations and inter-galaxy travel, or never get beyond the bedroom door. What do writers think about when setting the scope of a story? How would you make an inter-galactic story relatable or a bedroom tale big enough so it stays interesting?
When writers set the scope of a story, we aren’t just deciding on the geographical detail but rather the focus of emotions and themes. The scale might range from sprawling intergalactic space stations to the cramped confines of a single room. The key consideration is what emotions and themes are central to the story and how the chosen scope can best reflect and amplify them. An interstellar tale might explore political conflict and discovery of new planets or even galaxies, while a confined narrative might focus on personal thoughts and decisions.
To make an intergalactic story relatable, writers often anchor cosmic events in human experiences like ambition, loss, etc. When we do this, vast worlds suddenly feel familiar, and fantastical landscapes serve as backdrops to universal struggles we’ve all experienced. Moral choices are a common example of this, as they connect what is foreign to the familiar.
In much the same way, a story set within a single room can feel expansive by delving deeply into character emotions and the significance of small details. When the scope is limited, every object, glance, or silence takes on more weight. The focus is then on exploring internal landscapes and bringing intensity to even the small things.
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Ava, I like what you said about scope reflecting and amplifying the emotions and themes. The key, of course, is knowing what type of story you plan to tell, and then adjusting the scope to incorporate the elements that would be most impactful. Perspective here is essential and can add to the interest. To switch it around, we could have a thriller delving into the vast political landscape of ant colony sects in the back yard, or a story exploring how galaxies play marbles with the stars. Our character’s influence and the how the world is set up allows for exciting perspectives.
As storytellers, we are aiming to use everything available to help us communicate, and that includes deciding what playbox of elements we get to sit in when telling the story.
Ralph Emerson said that all history is ultimately biography. Story is too, because it is always about characters. Twin stars could be joining in a show of energy hot enough and bright enough for all the bonfires of history, and we would still see it as the cosmic equivalent of being at each other’s throats. Or, right now, there could be unfolding that strange little scene of a cell meeting its first virus. To your point, no matter the scope, we are always adjusting the lens so that the characters are relatable to our own experiences because that is what story is about. A story we couldn’t relate to would be a story we wouldn’t understand and wouldn’t learn from.
Framing a Scene
When you zoom back in to scene level, how do curate words and scene elements to frame an image that’s effective for the story moment? When do you want to use a fisheye lens? When do you want to zoom right in and catch every bit of grit and tear?
At the scene level, a writer’s choice of words and details functions like the lens of a camera, directing the reader’s focus and shaping the emotional impact. When curating a scene, the goal is to highlight what best conveys the mood, stakes, or transformation happening in that moment. The dialogue, internal and external brings the scene to life, whether by broad strokes or precise details, light or shadow. This involves choosing the right level of focus - deciding whether the scene needs to paint a sweeping landscape or hone in on a single thought-provoking moment.
A “fisheye lens” approach - using broad descriptions and expansive imagery - works best when a scene’s purpose is to evoke a sense of vastness, disorientation, wonder, or disorientation. It’s effective when introducing new worlds, showing the aftermath of a battle, or creating a sense of insignificance against a larger backdrop. Here, the writing captures the grand scale and the general atmosphere, allowing the reader to feel immersed in the world without getting lost in specifics. For example, describing the towering ruins of a city under a crimson sky can evoke an immediate emotional tone without diving into minute details. Not exactly a cheerful, bubbly kind of place.
In contrast, a “macro lens” captures the grit or the quiver of a hand when the emotional side of the moment is in focus. This approach is about sensory detail - catching the beads of sweat on a forehead, the frequent blinks of someone holding back tears, the twitch of a muscle before a fist is clenched. Such specification creates an important connection between the reader and the character, grounding the abstract in what was originally concrete.
Choosing the level of detail comes down to the emotional purpose of the scene. If you’re trying to convey awe or a pivotal shift of a story, those purposes will shift how you tell the story. Each choice crafts not only the image that comes to mind but also the emotional tone that lingers with the reader. In my opinion, it’s one of the most important skills you can have as a writer, and you can always be honing it.
vvv
Well said. It’s about setting the focus, curating the scene, so that the emotion and meaning of the moment is well communicated. Here we are figuring the zoom ring so we can get in close, or capture the vastness; we are leaving out details, or cluttering the scene with them.
With visual storytelling it is much the same. Perspective, setting, and positioning all come into play when composing a scene. Placement of the areas of interest plays a large part: a frame cramped with information communicates tension or action, while shots low on density give the eye time to rest and allows the reader (and characters) a moment of calm or inflection.
Framing in Life
The scale of our physical experience varies. Some of us are soldering PC boards under a microscope or reading the letters on this post, others are mapping out a construction site or machining space ship parts. How can we apply the thoughts on framing in story to daily life and how we think? Are there times we are too zoomed out or too zoomed in? Through what frame should we look at our world and our Maker—and are there ways in which we should readjust our view and look for another lens?
In daily life, much like in the stories we tell, our perspective is shaped by how closely or broadly we choose to observe the world around us. Our physical experiences reflect the same ideas of zooming in or pulling back. The key is in recognizing when a shift in focus can really add something to a story.
When we’re too zoomed in, we might become fixated on details that, while important, can obscure the bigger picture. Imagine focusing only on the minor flaws in a project without appreciating the overall progress. In those moments, stepping back can remind us of the direction the story is meant to take. But if we’re too zoomed out, we may lose sight of the immediate needs or the intricate details below the surface. Paying attention to the micro can bring a sort of significance to what might seem unimportant otherwise.
The challenge, then, is cultivating the discernment to know when to adjust our perspective. This might mean intentionally pulling back to gain clarity in moments of confusion, or zooming in to find depth in moments of routine. By shifting our lens, we invite ourselves to engage more fully with our world and its Creator, embracing both the broad and the intimate with curiosity and gratitude.
lll
Adjusting our perspective is certainly valuable. That is what stories are all about. In photography, there are different filters attachable to the front of the lens. They filter out UV or reflections, or help with longer exposure. Each of us is walking around with our own set of filters through which we view the world, and we can be certain that some—if not the majority—of them are false. Solomon says that the beginning of wisdom is the fear of God. A thing of immeasurable value, then, is to keep challenging how you see the world and what you believe, in reverence of the Truth That Does Not Change, in an aim to see and live as closely as possible to how he wants you to. Keep challenging your friends, keep looking for people that point out your shortcomings then point to Christ, spend time with the good men of the past in history books, good writing, and scripture, and never get too proud to stop suspecting your framework and the lens you use to look at yourself.
Conclusion
Framing matters. It reveals the story and colours how we experience it. Scope matters. It drives what gets into the story and gives opportunity for unique scale and perspective. Remember to get the focus right: first realise what the story is about, then learn to discern what when to use the fish-eye and when the telephoto. Always be aware of the filters you are using—get rid of the stuff that discolours your outlook in a way that doesn’t line up with the Truth That Does Not Change. Good friends help. Good books too. Read scripture and remember to stay humble and fearful enough to stay introspective.
