Tag Archives: pacing and the story arc

December 9, 2024 · 6:00 am

#DecemberWriter – Dialogue and smooth transitions #writing

The best stories have an arc of rising action flowing smoothly from scene to scene. The changes from scene to scene should feel organic to the narrative and not jar the reader.

MyWritingLife2021These transitions are often small moments of conversation, italicized thoughts (internal dialogues), or contemplations written as free indirect speech. These moments are a form of action that can work well when a hard break, such as a new chapter, doesn’t feel right. The reader and the characters receive information simultaneously, but only when they need it.

Pacing has a scientific equation that can be described in two ways:

Action + reaction +action +reaction = pacing.

Push + glide + push +glide = pacing.

Usually, the overall pacing isn’t apparent while the reader is involved in the story. However, if the pacing is off, a narrative can quickly become jarring or boring, and readers will notice that.

Dialogue is an excellent tool for the reaction part of the pacing equation, but it must have a purpose and move toward a conclusion of some sort. This means conversations or ruminations should offer information of some kind to keep moving the story forward.

What can be revealed in conversations or free indirect speech? Necessary information is the obvious answer, but what else? We use it as a component of world-building to convey the atmosphere and show the scene. We also use it to expand on our theme.

ConversationsA character’s personal mood can be shown in many ways. A moment of gallows humor lightens and shows certain characters as human. Exchanging information about the backstory in a bantering way when characters are under great stress is more entertaining than a blunt dump.

Whether humor comes into it or not, moments of regrouping and processing what just occurred are necessary for the reader as well as for the pacing.

Sometimes, a writer comes to the end of a scene and doesn’t know how to transition to the next. We have a choice to either end it with a hard break or write a short transition scene.

I always look at the overall length of what has gone before. If it’s too short, say 500 or so words, I look for a way to expand the action without slowing it, or I write a brief transition scene.

For the transition conversation, whether it’s an internal monologue or spoken aloud, I ask myself three questions:

  1. Who needs to know what?
  2. Why must they know it?
  3. How many words do I intend to devote to it?

Once I know what must be conveyed and why, I find myself walking through the Minefield of Too Much Exposition.

It is easy to write long paragraphs with lines and lines and lines of uninterrupted dialogue.

carrotTrim that back to “Just the facts, ma’am,” and add a little guesswork to show the characters don’t know everything. We have to keep the carrot (information) dangling just out of reach, or we’ll lose the reader.

We want to avoid bloated exposition because readers will skip over walls of words, hoping to “get to the good part,” and they could miss the information they need, lending confusion to the narrative.

A certain amount of information from the protagonist’s point of view can be dispersed via indirect speech. The point of view character is an unreliable narrator, so their thoughts and conversations are suspect. It’s a good way to misdirect the reader and add an element of surprise when their suppositions are proven wrong.

Let’s look at a scene that opens upon a place where the reader and the protagonists must receive information. The way the characters speak to us can take several forms:

  • Direct dialogue: Nattan said, “I was going to give it to Benn in Fell Creek, but he wasn’t home, and I had to get on the road.”
  • Italicized thoughts: Nattan stood looking out the window. Benn’s not home. What now?
  • Free indirect speech: Nattan stood looking out the window. Benn wasn’t home, so who should he give it to?

Wikipedia describes free indirect speech as a style of third-person narration that uses some of the characteristics of a third-person point of view along with the essence of a first-person direct speech.

The following is an example of sentences using direct, indirect and free indirect speech:

Quoted or direct speech: He laid down his bundle and thought of his misfortune. “And just what pleasure have I found, since I came into this world?” he asked.

Reported or normal indirect speech: He laid down his bundle and thought of his misfortune. He asked himself what pleasure he had found since he came into the world.

Free indirect speech: He laid down his bundle and thought of his misfortune. And just what pleasure had he found, since he came into this world?

According to British philologist Roy Pascal, Goethe and Jane Austen were the first novelists to use this style consistently and nineteenth century French novelist Flaubert was the first to be consciously aware of it as a style. [1]

When I began writing seriously, I was in the habit of using italicized thoughts and characters talking to themselves to express what was happening inside them.

That wasn’t wrong, but I used italics too freely. When used sparingly, italicized thoughts and internal dialogue have their place. We have to be careful with them because a wall of italicized words is difficult for people with compromised vision (like me) to read.

In the years since I first began writing seriously, I’ve evolved in my writing habits. Nowadays, I am increasingly drawn to using the various forms of free indirect speech to show who my characters think they are and how they see their world, and I rarely use italics.

strange thoughtsThe main thing to watch for when employing indirect speech in a scene is to stay only in one person’s head. You can show different characters’ internal workings, provided you have a hard scene or chapter break between each character’s dialogue.

If you aren’t careful, you can slip into “head-hopping,” which is incredibly confusing for the reader. First, you’re in one person’s thoughts, and then another—like watching a tennis match.

Readers like it when we find ways to get the story across with a minimum of words.

Writing conversations and showing a character’s critical thoughts as an organic part of the unfolding plot make good transition scenes. They’re a good means of giving information and revealing hidden aspects of a character.

I hope your writing has continued now that November and the month of writing quests has passed. Keep writing new words every day, even if it’s only a paragraph or two. This will keep you in the habit and bring your novel closer to completion.

Credits and Attributions:

[1] Wikipedia contributors, “Free indirect speech,” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Free_indirect_speech&oldid=817276599 (accessed Dec 7, 2024).

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November 15, 2023 · 6:00 am

Transition scenes – direct dialogue vs. indirect speech #amwriting

Sometimes, writing is more about inspiration than anything else; other times, it is all about perspiration. We must work at it even when we are inspired, and our work is flowing.

WritingCraftSeries_depth-through-conversationWe all know the best stories have an arc of rising action flowing smoothly from scene to scene. Those changes are called transitions and are little connecting scenes. Conversations and indirect speech (thoughts, ruminations, contemplations) often make good transitions when a hard break, such as a new chapter, doesn’t feel right.

A properly placed argument or a moment of internal dialogue gives the reader the context to process the action and understand why it happened. The reader and the characters receive information simultaneously, but only when they need it.

Action – reaction -action – reaction. This kind of pacing isn’t obvious, but a narrative can easily become chaotic without it.

money_computer_via_microsoftWe know dialogue must have a purpose and move toward a conclusion of some sort. This means conversations or ruminations should provide a sense of moving the story forward. These are moments of regrouping and processing what has just occurred. Dialogue and introspection are also where the protagonist and the reader learn more about the mysterious backstory.

Sometimes, we end a scene and don’t know how to transition to the next. We can end it with a hard break or write a short transition scene. I always look at the overall length of what has gone before, and if it’s too short, say 500 or so words, I write a transition scene.

I ask myself three questions: Who needs to know what? Why must they know it? How many words do I intend to devote to it?

I try to keep the conversations and ruminations short and intersperse them with scenes of actions that advance the plot.

Author James Scott Bell says dialogue has five functions:

  1. To reveal story information
  2. To reveal character
  3. To set the tone
  4. To set the scene
  5. To reveal theme

CAUTION INFO DUMP ZONE AHEADSo now that we know what must be conveyed and why, we find ourselves walking through the Minefield of Too Much Exposition.

Some authors give their characters long paragraphs with lines and lines and lines of uninterrupted dialogue. This is known as bloated exposition and is something readers will skip over, trying to “get to the good part.”

Information can be dispersed via indirect speech,

Let’s look at a scene that opens upon a place where the reader and the protagonists must receive information. The way the characters speak to us can take several forms:

  • Direct dialogue: Nattan said, “I was going to give it to Benn in Fell Creek, but he wasn’t home, and I had to get on the road.”
  • Italicized thoughts: Nattan stood looking out the window. Benn’s not home. What now?
  • Free indirect speech: Nattan stood looking out the window. Benn wasn’t home, so who should he give it to?

Wikipedia describes free indirect speech as a style of third-person narration which uses some of the characteristics of third person along with the essence of first-person direct speech.

The following is an example of sentences using direct, indirect and free indirect speech:

  • Quoted or direct speech: He laid down his bundle and thought of his misfortune. “And just what pleasure have I found, since I came into this world?” he asked.
  • Reported or normal indirect speech: He laid down his bundle and thought of his misfortune. He asked himself what pleasure he had found since he came into the world.
  • Free indirect speech: He laid down his bundle and thought of his misfortune. And just what pleasure had he found, since he came into this world?

According to British philologist Roy Pascal, Goethe and Jane Austen were the first novelists to use this style consistently and nineteenth century French novelist Flaubert was the first to be consciously aware of it as a style. [1]

Epic Fails memeWhen I began writing seriously, I was in the habit of using italicized thoughts and characters talking to themselves to express what was happening inside them.

That isn’t necessarily wrong. When used sparingly, italicized thoughts and internal dialogue have their place. When they are used as a means for dumping information, they can become a wall of italicized words.

In the last few years, as I’ve evolved in my writing habits, I am increasingly drawn to using the various forms of free indirect speech to show who my characters think they are and how they see their world.

The main thing to watch for when employing indirect speech in a scene is to stay only in one person’s head. You can show different characters’ internal workings provided you have hard scene or chapter breaks between each character’s dialogue.

Lucky Coffee CupIf you aren’t careful, you can slip into “head-hopping,” which is incredibly confusing for the reader. First, you’re in one person’s thoughts, and then another—like watching a tennis match.

Readers like it when we find ways to get the story across with a minimum of words.

Showing important ruminations as an organic part of the unfolding plot is one way to give information and reveal aspect of a character. I love it when an author writes lean, powerful prose, but delivers the bits of information just frequently enough to keep me reading.

I hope your writing week has been going as well as mine has. I have made headway on my abandoned novel and feel good about what I’ve written. And that is the important thing—enjoying the act of creating a story out of thin air and thinner plot ideas.

Credits and Attributions:

[1] Wikipedia contributors, “Free indirect speech,” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Free_indirect_speech&oldid=817276599 (accessed Nov 14, 2023).

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August 23, 2023 · 6:00 am

Introspection, a critical aspect of pacing and character development #amwriting

Scenes involving violence can be tricky because we feel pressured to make the events the story, leading to undeveloped, two-dimensional characters.

depth-of-characterWe forget to consider how the action affects both the protagonist and the reader. The reader needs a small break between incidents to process what just happened, and the characters need a chance to regroup and make plans.

Pacing consists of action followed by aftermath, followed by action, followed by aftermath—and so on. This is often compared to how a skater crosses the ice: push, glide, push, glide.

When we insert a few quieter moments after the action, we create the places where conversations happen. When the characters pause to absorb what just happened and to consider the next step, background information emerges in an organic, natural way.

We want to keep the rhythm of the piece moving, but if we don’t allow the reader to process things, we risk losing them before they finish reading. The story becomes a wall of words and confusion, and they put the book down.

The story is the reader’s journey, and it is our job to make it a personal one.

We’re all familiar with the term ‘flatlined’ as a medical expression indicating the patient has died. Stories are composed of words strung together so the reader becomes emotionally involved in the arc of action. The reader stays involved when the plot arc moves forward at a good pace, but when it flatlines, the reader loses interest.

Plot-exists-to-reveal-characterStories are a balancing act detailing the lives of engaging characters having intriguing and believable adventures. The reader lives and processes the action as it happens, suspending their disbelief.

When the story arc is imbalanced, it can flatline in two ways:

  • The action becomes random, an onslaught of meaningless events that make no sense.
  • The pauses become halts, long passages of random interior monologues that have little to do with the action.

We want to meet and know the characters on both sides of the action, protagonist and antagonist, and we do this through their introspections.

The trick is balancing the introspection and chaos, ensuring your contemplation doesn’t turn into info dumps where your character ponders everything that happens to him at length.

Some stories are meant to be more reflective than active, and some of my favorite literary classics are all about the character’s thoughts as they go through the events. Yet, even though the stories might be about what goes on in the characters’ heads more than the adventure, these narratives are not repetitive. The action, mental though it is, moves forward rather than backward.

modesitt quote the times we live LIRF11012022But if you are writing genre fiction, the market you are writing for expects more action than introspection. These stories are also character-driven, but the adventure, how the protagonist meets and overcomes the battles and roadblocks, is what interests the reader.

So, a sci-fi action adventure would have more extended action scenes separated by short scenes of introspection and conversation.

One way to avoid a flatlined story arc is through character interaction. Your characters briefly discuss what is on their minds and bravely muck on to the next roadblock. Conversations serve two important (in my opinion) functions:

  • It tells us what they think. New information vital to the story emerges.
  • The reader sees who the characters are and how they think.

ICountMyself-FriendsConversations illuminate a group’s relationship with each other and sheds light on our characters’ fears. It shows that they are self-aware and should present information not previously discussed.

Interior monologues, or introspection, don’t have to be italicized if you make it clear that Character A is having a mental dialogue with themselves.

  • Interior monologues (thoughts) serve to illuminate a character’s motives at a particular moment in time.

However, interior monologues should not make our characters appear all-knowing. They must show that our people are somewhat clueless about their flaws, strengths, or even their deepest fears and goals.

Your point-of-view character will be in the most danger of this. Avoid situations where the dialogue is too exact in predictions and character self-analysis. Too much foreshadowing ruins the mystery of the piece. The same follows for inner monologues, perhaps even more so.

As the character is forced to grow throughout the course of the story, these faults emerge gradually. The protagonist is pushed down the path to wisdom. Self-awareness should flower because of the “personal resurrection” that occurs near the end of the hero’s journey.

Author-thoughtsGreat characters begin in an unfinished state, a pencil sketch, as it were. They emerge from the events of their journey in full color, fully realized in the multi-dimensional form in which you initially visualized them.

For the protagonist, surviving the journey to self-knowledge is as important as living through the physical journey.

The antagonist must also be self-aware. While their outcome may not be positive, their reasoning and ethical values should emerge as the story progresses.

But maybe you are writing an over-the-top story with a good vs. evil narrative. The supervillain’s backstory may not need more than a mention.

We need to know enough so the supervillain isn’t there simply for the sake of drama. We want them to present a real, tangible threat, and readers must see them as intelligent enough to be dangerous.

Character interactions should show that all the characters have depth. They have layers, and conversations and interior dialogues should reveal aspects the reader doesn’t know up front as the story progresses.

Repetition is easy to write into the first draft of the narrative because we’re telling ourselves the story as we write. But during revisions, we must focus on the rhythm of the story (pacing), as well as making the story arc logical.

It’s a balancing act, one that often takes many drafts for me to get right.

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June 19, 2023 · 6:00 am

Pacing part 3 – Plotting the End #amwriting

Maybe you’re a “pantser,” not a “plotter.” Unlike me, you like to wing it when you write; just let the ideas flow freely.

Margaret Atwood on writing LIRF07252022I have “pantsed it” occasionally, which can be liberating but for me, there always comes a point where I realize my manuscript has gone way off track and is no longer fun to write. Then I must return to the point where the story stopped working and make an outline.

This year, I finally published Bleakbourne on Heath, a novel that began as a serial published in 2015 – 2016 on Edgewise Words Inn. That experience was how I discovered that writing and publishing a chapter a week is not my forte. I hit a dead spot at the ¾ mark, and the book was on hold for several years because of other writing commitments, but finally, it was finished, and now it is out the door.

Another bit of unfinished business is book two of a duology. I’ve committed to writing the second book in this set before publishing the first because I know from experience it will be years between installments, and readers don’t like that. This ensures the wait time for the second book’s release is reasonable. Even though the entire story will span two books, this first half must have a finite ending, and I think I have finally achieved that goal.

It’s at what would be considered the midpoint of the 2-book story arc. The problem has been deciding where in the overall story arc of the duology the ending of book one occurs and how it leads into the action of the opening chapters in the second half.

I have stopped floundering and (literally) cut my losses. I trimmed book two back to where the narrative dissolved into chaos. Now I must figure out how to bring the story to its intended conclusion.

This isn’t unusual. Fortunately, my years of doing NaNoWriMo have given me some tools for just such an emergency.

Jack Kerouak on writing LIRF07252022The first tool is a sense of balance. Every published novel has entire sections that were cut or rewritten at least once before it got to the editing stage.

Much of what you cut out can be recycled, reshaped, and reused, so never delete weeks of work. Save everything you cut to a new document, labeled and dated something like “Outtakes_AF_rewrite2_06-19-2023.” (For me, that stands for Outtakes, Aelfrid Firesword, rewrite 2, June-19-2023)

Now, we must consider what will be the most logical way to end this mess.

What is the core conflict? For me, a good way to pull the ending out of my subconscious is to revisit the outline I made of the story arc. Fortunately, I have been on top of things, so deviations from the original plans have been noted on my outline.

The problem I am experiencing now is that I didn’t know precisely where this duology would end when I began writing it so that part never got plotted. Now I can see how the internal growth of the characters has caused two of them to fundamentally change from what was originally planned. Their personal goals have radically deviated from what I had initially thought, and they have a lesser part to play.

By visualizing the whole picture of the story to this point, I usually find the inspiration to put together the final scenes that I know must happen. I know what must be achieved in the last chapters – I just can’t get it onto paper. This is where I stop and drag out a notebook and pen. I sit outside or in a coffee shop and write down those loose ideas for an hour or so. I find an outline is crucial, especially when trying to write a solid ending. The list of events helps me get the story out of my head in a logical sequence.

What must occur between the place where the plot was derailed and the end? I write a list of chapters with the keywords for each scene noted.

Once I have made a few notes as ideas occur to me, I start a new document and save it with a name indicating that it’s a worksheet for that novel: AF_Final_Chpts_Worksheet_06-19-2023 (Aelfrid Firesword, final chapters worksheet, and the date)

F Scott Fitzgerald on Good Writing LIRF07252022At first, the page is only a list of headings that detail the events I must write for each chapter. I know what end I have to arrive at. But the chapter headings are pulled out of the ether, accompanied by the howling of demons as I force my plot to take shape:

  • Chapter – Sunhammer revealed/Alf swears the vows of protection
  • (and so on until the last event)

You’ll note that there are no numbers, but the word “chapter” and a rudimentary title are there. I don’t number my chapters until the final draft is complete, although I do head each section with the word “chapter” written out, so it is easy to find with a global search. The titles will disappear, or be changed, depending on which series it is.

This is because, in my world, first drafts are not written linearly. Things change structurally with each rewrite. So the numbers are only put in when the manuscript is finalized.

  • I begin writing details that pertain to the section beneath each chapter heading as they occur to me.
  • Once that list is complete, those sketchy details get expanded on and grow into complete chapters,
  • Which I then copy and paste into the manuscript.

When I begin designing the ending, it’s as challenging as plotting the opening scenes. I go back to the basics and ask myself the same questions I asked in the beginning.

It’s a good idea to have a separate worksheet that lists each character and contains notes detailing what they wanted initially. That way, you can see how they’ve been changed by the events they have experienced.

  1. What do the characters want now that they have achieved a significant milestone?
  2. What will they have to sacrifice next?
  3. What stands in the way of their achieving the goal?
  4. Do they get what they initially wanted, or do their desires evolve away from that goal when new information is presented?

ok to write garbage quote c j cherryhDon’t be afraid to rewrite what isn’t working. Save everything you cut because I guarantee you will want to reuse some of that prose later at a place where it makes more sense.

Not having to reinvent those useful sections will significantly speed things up, so I urge you to save them with a file name that clearly labels them as background or outtakes.

We all suffer from the irrational notion that if we wrote it, we have to keep it, even though it no longer fits. No amount of rewriting and adjusting will make a scene or chapter work if it’s no longer needed to advance the story. When the story is stronger without that great episode, cut it.

Outtakes are fodder for a short story or novella set in that world. This is how prolific authors end up with so many short stories to make into compilations. Every side quest not used in the final manuscript can quickly become a short story featuring characters you already know well.

What you have written but not used in the finished novel is a form of world-building. It contributes to the established canon of that world and makes it more real in your mind.

UrsulaKLeGuinQuote

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June 12, 2023 · 6:00 am

Pacing part one: foreshadowing and the strong opening #amwriting

I’ve been struggling to find the place where the narrative of my new novel actually begins. Is it the day of his divorce? Is it the day of his brother’s death? Or is it the day he is released from the care of the healers after his breakdown?

MyWritingLife2021BAnd what of my female protagonist? Where does her story begin?

And the other pair—the ones that really need their own book but aren’t going to get it. What about them?

At this point, all I have is a mountain of backstory. It’s important because it tells me who my people are the day the novel begins.

It doesn’t need to be the opening chapter.

Every story begins with an opening act. The characters are introduced, and the scene is set. These paragraphs establish the tone of what is to follow, and if I have gotten my phrasing and pacing right, they will hook the reader.

This is where pacing comes into it. The intended impact of the book can and should be established in the first pages—but it takes work. I am writing a first draft right now, so most of what I write is a code telling me what I need to know when I get to the revision process.

I have introduced the setting. Where are the characters? Well, in this case, it’s easy. They are in the World of Neveyah, and fortunately for me, the world, the society, and the magic systems are already built. Some things are canon, which forces me to be creative and work within those limits.

Finally, I must introduce the conflict. What does the protagonist want? What hinders them?

My female protagonist must learn to live with her limits and trust her team. She must learn to delegate.

While she is doing that, my male protagonist must move beyond what he has lost and learn to appreciate what he still has.

My other female lead must be the friend the protagonist needs and make a choice between her career as a soldier or choosing to leave and raise a family.

Conversely, the other male lead must emerge from his father’s domination and choose to make his career as an artisan.

Not only that, but I must use my words in such a way that my readers don’t want to put the book down.

Novels are built the same way as a Gothic cathedral. Small arcs support other arcs in layers, creating an intricate structure that rises high and withstands all that nature can throw at it for the centuries to come.

Like our cathedral, the strength of a novel’s story arc depends on the foundation you lay in the book’s first quarter.

Plot-exists-to-reveal-characterI must introduce a story-worthy problem in those pages, a test propelling the protagonist to the middle of the book. The opening paragraphs are vital. They are the hook, the introduction to my voice, and must offer a reason for the reader to continue past the first page.

So, I must find where that story really begins, and trust me, it isn’t with a mental breakdown. The story begins with each character arriving at their new duty stations, each with a history that makes them who they are that day. Their pasts are known to others and do come out, but only when the other characters and the reader needs it.

I find pacing is the most challenging part of writing a first draft. Eighty percent of my writing will not make it into the final manuscript.

But it will be available in a file labeled ‘backstory’ for me to access when needed. I note names and relationships in my stylesheet and outline as I go.

One character is dark and brooding. I won’t explain why at the outset, as his backstory must emerge gradually, each morsel emerging when my female character must know. My side characters have an easier path, but their task is to provide information when required and to assist in the surface quest—catching a murderer.

With the back history in a separate file, I must open the novel with my characters in place. A  question must be raised, or I must introduce the inciting incident. This sets the four on the trail of the answer, throwing them into the action.

It’s too easy to frontload the opening pages with a wall of backstory. We always think, “Before you learn this, you must know that.”

All of that is true, but the history belongs in a separate file. I learned this the hard way—long lead-ins don’t hook the reader.

If my characters don’t need to hear the history of the Caverns of Despair, it’s likely that the readers also don’t care. The name is a pretty descriptive indicator of what lies ahead, so the twelve paragraphs detailing how the caves got their name are probably unnecessary.

The_Pyramid_Conflict_Tension_PacingMy favorite books open with a minor conflict, evolving to a series of more significant problems, working up to the first pinch point, where the characters are set on the path to their destiny.

I will open with a strong scene, an arc of action that

  • illuminates the characters’ motives,
  • allows the reader to learn things as the protagonist does, and
  • offers clues regarding things the characters do not know that will affect the plot.
  • The end of one scene is the launching pad for the next scene, propelling the story arc.

The clues I offer at the beginning are foreshadowing. Through the book’s first half, foreshadowing is important, as it piques the reader’s interest and makes them want to know how the book will end.

In the opening paragraphs, I will focus on the protagonists and hint at their problems. Subplots, if there are any, will be introduced after the inciting incident has taken place. They must relate to that incident in some way.

If you introduce side quests too soon, they are distracting. They make for a haphazard story arc if they don’t relate to the central quest. I think side quests work best if they are presented once the book’s tone and the central crisis have been established. Good subplots are excellent ways of introducing the emotional part of the story.

Even if I were to open the story by dropping my characters into the middle of an event, I’d need a pivotal event at the 1/4 mark that completely rocks their world. The event that changes everything is the core of the story.

Following the inciting incident is the second act: more action occurs, leading to more trouble and rising to a severe crisis.

I know how long I plan the book to be. I will take that word count and divide it by 4. I place the first significant event in the first quarter, presenting it after I introduce the characters. The following two quarters form the second act, the middle. If I have plotted well, the middle of the story arc should fall into place like dominoes.

We’ll talk about that in my next post.

storyArcLIRF10032021

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February 8, 2017 · 6:45 am

#amwriting: Pacing and the Story Arc

Pacing is a fundamental aspect of your story and is directly tied into the Story Arc.

But what, you ask, is “pacing” and how does it apply to the story I am writing?

Gerry Visco, for the Writers’ Store, describes pacing this way: “Pacing, as it applies to fiction, could be described as the manipulation of time. Though pacing is often overlooked and misunderstood by beginning writers, it is one of the key craft elements a writer must master to produce good fiction.”

As our narrative follows the arc of the story our characters experience action and reaction. The story has a certain life, almost as if it is breathing. It moves forward, then allows a brief moment where the reader and the protagonist process what just happened, and then it moves forward again. The speed with which these things occur is called “pacing.”

Depending on the type of story you are writing, this is more difficult to achieve than it sounds. When we’re in the throes of laying down our first draft, we usually manage to stick to the story arc we had envisioned, although sometimes it becomes more of a “story-wave.”  We have places where it moves along well, and then it bogs down.

The Story Arc copy

 

The website, Literary Devices, gives us some examples of pacing:

  • Action – An action scene dramatizes the significant events of the story and shows what happens in a story.
  • Cliffhanger – When the end of a chapter or scene is left hanging, naturally the pace picks up, because readers would turn the pages to see what happens next.
  • Dialogue – A rapid fire dialogue with lesser or irrelevant information is captivating, swift and invigorates scenes.
  • Word Choice – The language itself is a means of pacing, like using concrete words, active voice, and sensory information.

Action is a key element in genre fiction.

Conversation is also key, and in genre fiction it should pertain to and impart information the protagonist and the reader need to know, but only at the appropriate time. Writers Digest says, “The best dialogue for velocity is pared down, an abbreviated copy of real-life conversation that snaps and crackles with tension.”

In my opinion, this is true. In Literary Fiction, conversation and pacing can be more leisurely as the internal journey the protagonist is taking the reader on is the core of the story. For this reason, I disagree with the Literary Devices editors on this one point: even in slower-paced stories, irrelevant information doesn’t advance the story and will lose the reader.

If you are writing a murder mystery or a thriller, or sci fi or most kinds of fantasy, conversations have to show something important about the story or the characters at that moment and must move the story forward.

How fast do you want the events to unfold? Writers Digest points out three critical places in the Story Arc where a faster pace is optimal:

  • the opening,
  • middle,
  • and climax of your story.

They also say:

“Suspense and, by extension, forward movement are created when you prolong outcomes. While it may seem that prolonging an event would slow down a story, this technique actually increases the speed, because the reader wants to know if your character is rescued from the mountainside, if the vaccine will arrive before the outbreak decimates the village, or if the detective will solve the case before the killer strikes again.”

Book- onstruction-sign copyThat quote seems contradictory, but it isn’t. Consider the most popular genre: romance novels. These things fly off the shelves. Why? Because the path to love is never straightforward. Obstacles to the budding romance keep the reader involved and make them determined to see the happy ending even more.

In all stories, complications create tension, which is what keeps the reader reading.

The trick is to dole the action and reactions out in a smooth manner. Many instructors I have had taken seminars from have likened this to the way a skater skates: Push—glide—push—glide—push and so on, though the course of the novel.

Pacing is another area where screenwriters have something to offer us. Story, by Robert McKee, is an excellent reference manual.

Also, consider investing in The Sound on the Page, by Ben Yagoda. While it primarily deals with developing a unique style and voice, it has a lot to offer in terms of incidental information on the nuts and bolts of the craft. How you habitually pace your work is part of your style and voice.

For further reading on this subject, these are my sources for this post:

Gerry Visco, Pacing in Writing Techniques You Need to Know, Copyright © 1982 – 2017 The Writers Store ® Incorporated.

LiteraryDevices Editors. “Pacing” LiteraryDevices.net. 2013. http://literarydevices.net/pacing/      (accessed February 7, 2017)

Writers Digest 7 Tools For Pacing A Novel & Keeping Your Story Moving At The Right Pace By: Courtney Carpenter | April 24, 2012 (Accessed February 7, 2017)

 

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