Any thoughts about what pacing is and how to make it work in a novel?

Tammy

nswer:

It all comes down to scenes!

I think of pacing as making sure that important events happen frequently enough that the reader doesn’t get a chance to quit reading.  That doesn’t mean every scene has a turning point, but every scene has to have some event that affects the overall plot, or that scene is basically “skippable”.  And every scene can help set up for a later turning point.

So my first rule is The “Cause, Change, and Effect” Events Trick

Every scene should have an event that affects the plot in some way, however minor.

There should be some measurable change that happens because of this event.  I have to say, as soon as I started applying this rule, my pacing picked up, because the plot had more events and more changes.

It really helped to think of the scene building towards this event– gave me a real purpose for the scene.  For example, I might have planned as the event “Genia finds her mother’s safe deposit key in Bill’s glove compartment.”  How is it a plot-changing event? “She realizes that Bill’s been lying to her (romantic effect) and she now can use the key to find the missing will (external effect).”

It’s also really helpful if the event propels the plot into the next scene– say in the next scene she goes to the safe deposit box and opens it with the key and finds not the missing will, but a birth certificate of a sister she never knew she had.  This sets up the cause-effect link from scene to scene that keeps readers reading to find out what’s going to happen.

My second rule is The Set Timebombs in Advance Trick

Scenes should set up if possible for later Big Events or turning points.  I think of these as “timebombs” that are set in one scene and explode several  scenes later.

For example, let’s say that in Chapter 9, Genia is going to learn from the birth certificate that the home-care nurse Terri she suspects of murdering Mom is actually Mom’s older daughter, given up early for adoption and back in Mom’s life in the last year.

Big revelation, obviously.  We have Genia reeling from this news, and thinking back, so that’s why Mom always treated her so kindly, gave her that car for Xmas!  I was right to be jealous and feel like Mom was preferring her to me!

Perfectly understandable reaction.

BUT… there will be no force there -unless- you’ve set this up earlier.

For example, this should not be the first time Terri appears.  She should, in fact, probably appear in an early scene with Mom AND Genia.  That is, we need to make the connection early, that Terri and mom are somehow in this triangulation with Genia, even if G doesn’t quite understand it.

Second, we need to set up that Mom is treating Terri specially, and Genia must notice it and probably comment on it.

Third, we have to put that gift car in there, probably in a fun way, like Genia notices Terri is driving a car just like Mom’s, and mentions it, and Mom says, well, it IS my car– I gave it to her– and it makes Genia angry and also starts her thinking that Terri is exploiting Mom.

And we probably also have to beef up the internal subplot of Genia’s relationship with Mom– if it’s completely lovely except for this, probably that won’t work.  The jealousy, Mom preferring Terri (“at least Terri is around-, unlike you!”), etc, suggest a relationship

in trouble.  Think about what that will do to Genia’s emotions when Mom dies– maybe on top of grief we’ll have to add a bit of guilt for 1) not being the perfect daughter and 2) not getting along with her at the end of her life.

I think I might also go back and see whether I can slip in something about how it’s hard being the only child when parents are failing, or how at least she doesn’t have to squabble with siblings about what to do with Mom… something to set up the “sibling” motif.

Setting those timebombs in one scene to go off in a later scene can improve pacing by connecting events, creating that “narrative drive” that keeps the reader interested.

But you can see, a lot of replotting is required now that we’ve come up with this Chapter 9 brilliant plot twist… both internal and external replotting.

Don’t know if that’s any help!

My third rule is The Eliminate Downtime Trick

One other thought, and this comes from Merline Lovelace– she suggested trying to keep chapters short, like 10 pages or less, maybe only one or two scenes.  It’s a way of making sure there’s very little downtime and the reader feels like she’s skipping along.

I wish I had really practical advice like that, but my thoughts on pacing are pretty vague.  I also remember Brenda Joyce saying, “Figure out your major turning points, and write fast between them”– that is, if very little is happening, as between major events, summarize!  Use a narrative bridge like “two weeks later, she was still trying to track him down, but…” and then get to the next big event, when she finds him.

I’ve also found that pacing is aided by a compression of time– eight big events taking place in two weeks will “pace” faster than the same eight events in two months.  The less downtime the characters have, the more intense the experience will be.  So I do try to keep the action of the book confined to a couple weeks, if possible, and set up some sort of deadline to enforce that (“Genia must find out the truth about her mother before the reading of the will on Saturday”).

Yours in Pacing,

Alicia

Problem #10: Backstory Blunders

The past is prologue, for sure, but you can tell too much too soon dragging your plot down, if everything about the characters’ past is explained right upfront in Chapter One. (Click here for more discussion of this topic.)

Problem # 9: Boring Beginnings

If you have to rely on your readers’ patience while you get the story set up, you’re likely to lose most of them.

Start where the protagonist’s problem starts, or just before that, and feed in the backstory later. This is the MTV era– people don’t like to wait.

Be especially wary of books that start with the protagonist on a journey, thinking about what awaits her at the destination. Editors frequently mention that as an example of a boring opening. It helps to decide what your major story questions are and make sure those are posed in the first few chapters– at least one should be posed in Chapter One.

Problem #8: Limping to a Conclusion

You don’t want the reader to think you ended the book just because you ran out of paper. Make the ending a conclusive one, reinforcing the themes of the book and the progress of the protagonist. (Click here for more discussion of this topic.)

Problem # 7: Sagging Middle

The middle has to do more than just fill up the space between beginning and end. It should be a time of “rising conflict” where the protagonist is tested up to (and perhaps beyond) the limits of his ability– a time to develop the internal and external conflicts and show how they influence the protagonist’s actions. It should set up the great crisis/climax/resolution that will bring the novel to a close.

So when you’re starting the middle, think of how the protagonist can be challenged. What external plot events can make his internal conflict impossible to ignore any longer? How can that internal conflict impede his/her progress towards the goal? If there’s an antagonist, how does the antagonist’s reaction affect the protagonist’s progress?

Problem #6: Tumors and Parasites

The cast of thousands: Secondary characters are distinguished from major characters– the protagonist(s) and the antagonist usually– by their lack of a story journey. That is, they exist to make things happen in the plot, but their own conflicts and issues shouldn’t be part of the story. (If they’re that interesting, let them star in the sequel.)

Every person with a story journey (described progress towards a significant change in their life) dilutes the impact of the major characters’ journey. In some books (family sagas, for example), this can work. But in most protagonist-centered popular fiction, tracking the secondary characters’ lives and loves is going to waste time and confuse the reader.

Watch out for long passages in a secondary character’s viewpoint which dwell on his problems and not on the protagonist. And keep count of how many subplots you’ve got– make sure each one supports the main plot in some way.

Problem #5: Plodding Pacing

Pacing is primarily a function of how many cause-effect related events happen in the book.

But that doesn’t mean that effective pacing depends on shoving a lot of events into the story. Selection is key.

• What events are essential?
• What supporting events are needed to set up those essential events (aka “turning points”)?
• Are all the events of the plot related causally– that is, does the discovery of the letter in chapter 2 set up the release of the imprisoned protagonist in Chapter 4, and eventually the capture of the villain in the climax?

Make sure every scene has at least one event that affects the main plot– that way the readers can’t skip without missing something important.

Problem #4: What a Coincidence!

Coincidence is fun in real life. But it’s death to good fiction.

Fiction is about cause and effect, and there’s no cause and effect when the central elements of your plot happen by coincidence. It’s often hard, however, to identify coincidence in your own story, so be ruthless. Look at the chain of events.

Which would be unlikely to happen unless you the author made it happen?

How likely is it that in a city of 7 million, your judge protagonist would just happen to get the embezzling case of the man she thinks was responsible for the hit-and-run killing of her mother? Not very.

To fix coincidence without losing the event, make it happen because of character decision and action, and watch your characters grow into strength and purpose. That judge doesn’t just happen to get the case; she seeks it, determined to avenge her mother’s death. Now that’s a lot more fun than coincidence, because the conflict is now not just an accident, but the result of this character’s need for vengeance over justice.

Problem #3: Conflicts about Conflict

Conflict is the fuel that powers the plot and forces the characters into action. Without it you might have a nice slice of life portrait, or a great character sketch… but you don’t really have a story.

Problem is, conflict is volatile, and many of us avoid it in our plotting as we avoid it in our lives.

But just as children need discipline to grow, characters need adversity to change. And fiction is, at base, about change. Popular fiction is usually about change in the protagonist.

No one changes without a good reason to change– that’s where conflict comes in. Quite simply, you have an authorial duty to provide conflict for your characters so that they will learn to change– and that means determining how they need to change. Linking conflict to character change will revitalize your story, and avoid the problems of serial conflict (where what looks like the book conflict wraps up in Chapter 3, to be replaced by another conflict) and incoherent conflict (where the conflict has nothing to do with who this character is or what she needs).

Problem #2: Structural Weaknesses

Many a good story is sunk by a weak structure: a hidden protagonist (the readers can’t tell early whose story this is), meandering setups, misrepresented conflict, rushed climaxes, incoherence between the protagonist and the plot (the main character doesn’t have much to do with the main plot, or this person would never do what the plot requires him to do).

Much of this derives from a misunderstanding of the purpose of structure.

It’s not a prison, chaining you to a “formula”, it’s a map to help you and your readers explore the issues you’re developing with this story. Learning structure can teach you when to modify it and when to branch out on your own.

The key to structure, in my opinion, is understanding the concept of the story questions– the question or problem your opening poses, and the events which combine to create the answer.(Click here for more discussion of this topic.)

Problem #1:  Whose Story Is This, Anyway?

The Plight of the Protagonist: The biggest single plot problem I see in my judging, editing, and critiquing is actually a character problem: the passive or under-motivated protagonist– that is, a protagonist who is not truly involved in causing the plot to unfold.

Beware of the victim-protagonist (bad things happen to him, and he suffers a lot), the passive protagonist (he witnesses the plot events, but he doesn’t participate), the bumbling protagonist (he acts, but stupidly, without learning from his mistakes).

The central character doesn’t have to be likeable (though it helps) or (god forbid) without faults, but he does have to be motivated enough to act and encounter obstacles and change in response to plot events. Ideally, the protagonist should be involved in nearly every event, and his decisions and actions should drive the plot.You might make a list of all the major plot events, and beside each note the protagonist’s contribution.

• Is each action or decision or choice motivated? (The motivation doesn’t have to be laudable, but should derive from who he is and what he wants.)
• Does each action have some effect on the plot?
• And finally, does each action-event dynamic contribute to an ultimate change in the protagonist?

Here’s a final thought that might help you plot: One primary purpose of the plot is to force the protagonist to change, usually by recognizing and overcoming some internal conflict. Know your character, and you’ll figure out your plot. Conversely, know your plot, and you’ll find the character who needs that sequence of events for internal growth.

There’s a trend recently that calls for opening each scene “in media res”— with some kind of clever line (the “hook”), or sudden action or a line of dialogue.

This can be effective in drawing the reader in, but keeping her in requires more than clever lines. It requires a paragraph or two that anchors the scene in some specific place, time, and situation.

The reader needs that to make any sense of your clever hook. This is especially true when you start with a line of dialogue:

“The beheadings are almost identical,” said Joe Watson, placing his memo on the walnut expanse of Arthur Mahoney’s worktable. Watson resisted the impulse to retrieve the memo on beheadings from the senior partner’s elbow and check it again for typos.

Brainstorm, by Richard Dooling

There’s the magnetic dialogue line (who can resist a good beheading?), but then immediately it’s followed by who said it (Joe) and in what context (a memo to a senior partner—must be a law firm).

So yes, draw the reader in. But set up the scene too, in an opening that is both intriguing and illuminating.

This is probably difficult to do well in the initial draft of the scene, because you won’t know entirely what it is you’re setting up. But once you finish writing a scene, or the whole story draft, go back and examine your scene openings. Here is where you establish the initial POV for the scene, and use it as a filter to impart the scene’s tone, setting, and approach.

Step #1: Avoid Sameness.

Make sure that scene openings aren’t going to get repetitive.

To verify this, read over just the first paragraph of each chapter in rapid succession. When I did this for one book, I found that I’d started four chapters with “The next morning….” It was a boring way to start—as if the time was always the most important factor—and the repetition was dulling. The opening should open this chapter or scene, and so should be unique.

Step #2: Guide The Reader.

Start guiding the reader in the right direction:

• Readers are going to get confused by a complicated first paragraph, so simplify the syntax—the word choice and sentence structure.
• Experiment with shorter paragraphs, just because they feel more comprehensible.
• Be very careful about sending signals you don’t want to send, or conflicting signals, as the reader has no context at this point to sort the contradictions out (like talking about sunlight when it turns out they’re indoors).
• Don’t throw more than a couple names at them early, and the first name mentioned should be that of the POV character—it’s a signal to the reader whose head we’re in.
• Start as close to the action of the scene as you can. If it’s about the night of Joan’s re-election, start in that day or night, not the earlier candidate’s debate. Scenes should be unified in time and place, so if you are starting a chapter, say, with some kind of background, a line break (four or five blank lines) will signal that only after that are you starting the actual scene.
• Start with a tone that you’re going to keep. If the first paragraph is funny, and the rest of the scene is serious, the reader might sue for false advertising!
• Begin as you mean to go on.
• Don’t waste the valuable real estate of the first paragraph. Find a way to answer at least some of the reader’s automatic questions:
• Where are we?
• When are we?
• Who are we?
• What’s the problem?
• Why are we here?

You probably can’t answer all those questions in the opening. But give the reader the information and the insight he’ll need to understand the scene as it develops. Read over the scene and decide which of those questions are most imperative, especially considering your POV approach.

Step #3: Omniscient POV

The point of an omniscient opening is to quickly establish time, place, and situation, so that you can get launched into the action of the scene. One way to start such an opening is with a tagline, or dateline, as reporters call it—the quick line at the top of the scene that identifies the time and date. Sometimes this line is in italics.

This is so conventional the reader absorbs it without much fuss, and it is especially useful for historical novels, where it’s hard to work in that essential information. The tagline leads equally well into omniscient or personal POV, but you’ll see it most often with an omniscient opening.

Medicine Creek, Kansas. Early August. Sunset.

The great sea of yellow corn stretches from horizon to horizon under an angry sky. When the wind rises the corn stirs and rustles as if alive, and when the wind dies down again the corn falls silent. The heat wave is now in its third week, and dead air hovers over the corn in shimmering curtains.

–Still Life With Crows, by Lincoln Child, Douglas Preston

Here, with the tagline establishing the where and when, the omniscient narration can get right into establishing the ominous tone of the scene with words like “angry” and “rustles” and “dies” and “dead”, and the immediacy of the scene conflict (the heat wave) with the present tense.

This scene is about a place and a time and a problem— a rural area during a summer heat wave—and not about a person, and that’s set up in the very first paragraph.

Step #4: Personal POV and Essential Information

But in a more personal scene, don’t leave the reader adrift in the existential void too long. Who are we? is the most essential question in a scene that begins in a personal POV.

So even if the scene is going into multiple POV, start in a character and stick with that viewpoint for a page at least. This is the time you establish not only the character but the world, so give one perspective on it to keep it coherent.

It helps, especially if this is the first time we’ve encountered this character, to use the name early. That doesn’t just identify the character, but also the POV approach as personal. Consider using some thought or feeling verb early on to establish that we’re inside a particular person, as in this passage where Yossarian falls madly in love.

It was love at first sight.

The first time Yossarian saw the chaplain he fell madly in love with him.

Yossarian was in the hospital with a pain in his liver that fell just short of being jaundice. The doctors were puzzled by the fact that it wasn’t quite jaundice. If it became jaundice they could treat it. If it didn’t become jaundice and went away they could discharge him. But this just being short of jaundice all the time confused them.

–Catch-22, by Joseph Heller

Look for places to insert essential information in a subtle way. For example, Heller identifies the setting as “the hospital” in the third line. But if you wanted to establish that setting quickly and then go into his love at first sight, you might just insert the word “hospital” in front of chaplain: The first time Yossarian saw the hospital chaplain he fell madly in love with him.

Step #5: Enjoy Trouble

If the POV character is in some kind of trouble, logically that’ll be on her mind. So at least hint at the problem early and draw the reader into sympathy:

Alive!

Still alive.

Alive…again.

Awakening was hard, as always. The ultimate disappointment. It was a struggle to take in enough air to drive off nightmare sensations of asphyxiation. Lilith Iyapo lay gasping, shaking with the force of her effort. Her heart beat too fast, too loud. She curled around it, fetal, helpless. Circulation began to return to her arms and legs in flurries of minute, exquisite pains.

Dawn, by Octavia E. Butler

Notice the power of individual words, particularly modifiers (adjectives and adverbs), in defining the inside experience of the POV character. Butler uses extreme words like “ultimate” and “nightmare” and “exquisite,” as well as the motif of birth (fetal) to portray the pain of waking.

This passage also creates a question in the reader’s mind: Why is waking alive so painful to her? This enhances the interactive reading experience, as the reader will start speculating about the answer even before the scene provides it.

Step #6: Sight and Senses

Part of the interactive experience for the reader is visualizing the scene.

This is especially important, I think, with our readers, who have grown up “seeing” fiction on TV. So it helps to jot down exactly what the scene looks like as you start revising, and look for adjectives and adverbs that unobtrusively convey something about the character’s surroundings.

Perhaps the most important setting detail is the light, as that can tell us if this is day or night, inside or outside, sunny or overcast, bright noon or just after dawn. Establish light quickly, as that “illuminates” the scene and is going to make all the difference to how the reader visualizes here. So see if you can put in a “light” word within the first two sentences. I know that sounds mechanical, but the reader needs that to build the picture. For example, “the sun was setting as he jammed his spurs…” or “Bill squinted through the dim bedroom light at….” or “the moonlit plateau spread out in front of me….”

Expand the vision into the other senses by getting into your POV character’s body and perceiving in her individual way. If you can insert emotion or action in with the setting-establishment lines, all the better:

Jane had to shout to be heard over drone of the airplane engines. But that was okay. She felt like shouting anyway.

There was the smell of something rotting in the air, and his heart sank. He was too late.

Along with the fear, he could taste the metallic tang of his own blood, and he struck out blindly with both fists.

Let the viewpoint character live in the setting, interact with it in minor ways. The first few paragraphs is where the reader gets anchored in the narration, so don’t leave her flailing around in open sea, trying to find that anchor. After those first paragraphs, the reader can visualize the setting and is firmly parked in the proper POV, and won’t need so much context-setting. Then you can get started on the action.

Quick checklist:

1. Is it clear in the first few paragraphs where we are?

That is, are we outside in the parking lot, or inside the executive dining room? Just a few words (“Out in the empty parking lot”) might be enough to anchor the
scene in the setting.

2. Will the reader know what time of day is it?

You can state this right out: “It was 3 am before Tom tracked his brother down in a rickety bar perched on the end of the city pier.” Or you can use physical details to
clue the reader in: “She shielded her eyes against the afternoon light.”

3. Is it clear whose POV are we in?

If you start in an omniscient viewpoint, when do you descend into a personal viewpoint? How do you establish this POV character’s goal/agenda for the scene, or state of
mind or emotional condition?

4. Remember, the scene is a unit of change– something changes during the course of the scene.

Do you have some “before” situation established, or are we at the beginning or in the middle of some event of change?

For example, is the heroine about ready to go into a job interview or visit her mother in jail, or is she halfway through her truckdriver’s exam when a tire blows out? We need some glimpse of what the situation was like before in order to put the change-to-come into context.

5.  And don’t forget this opening sets up the beginning point of the emotional arc.

Where does the POV character start out emotionally? How do you establish it?

6.  Hardest question– is this the best place to start?

I tend to write around until I find the real scene opening, which might be where the action starts, or just before some big change, or when two people meet, or whatever.  That’s fine– however we find our way is okay. But my problem is– I’m not good at cutting all that intro material that isn’t really needed!  So I’m trying to start the scene as late as possible, and putting all the transitional/positioning stuff (time, place, situation) in a paragraph or so as the action starts.

Spending a couple minutes thinking about what the real opening should be saves me far more in writing time.

Creating unique voices for each viewpoint character is essential in creating fiction readers want to read over and over. Unique voices stick with you and generate the best reviews.

Here are 9 exercises to help you discover your viewpoint character(s) voice.  Select the ones that appeal most.  Get into the mind of your character.  Free-write the answer to each question in first-person, as if YOU are the character.

First-person, remember.  That will help you get a sense of the character’s voice.

EXERCISE #1: Learning Style

1. How do you learn best?  Observation?  Participation?  Trial and error? Rumination and cogitation?  Consulting experts?  Writing?

Example to get you started – historical character named Rebecca: “Oh, I think I learn best by observation.  I’m an artist– well, I sketch a little, or a lot, I suppose– and so I’m always looking at people and places and things and trying to capture them with my pencil.

I like to imagine what people are like from the way they move and the expressions on their faces.  I try not to make judgments until I’ve studied the people, however.  So I guess I’m an observer. I’m certainly not really a participant.  Of course, I have to participate in all sorts of activities, but given my druthers, I’d sit on the sidelines and watch first, until I felt more confident.

Oh, dear, I sound like such a tentative creature.  I guess I am that, after all– except for the once, when I eloped with Tommy.  Now that time, I didn’t stop to study and observe.  I threw myself right into that situation!  And I guess I’ve never regretted it, not even when he died and left me alone.

Maybe it’s time again for me to stop studying and just jump in?

EXERCISE #2: Openness

• How open are you to new ideas and information?
• you change your mind frequently, based on what people have told you?
• Are you a traditionalist, deciding on the basis of “what’s always been”?
• If someone is arguing with you, are you more likely to change your mind or dig in your heels?
• What if the arguer is right?

EXERCISE #3: Observation

When you walk into a party, what do you notice first?

• The mood?
• The people?
• The decorating?
• The things needing to be fixed?
• The background music?
• The food on the buffet table?
• Whether you fit in?

EXERCISE #4: Dominant Sense

Is one sense more highly developed than another?

For instance…

• Do you tend to take in the world primarily through vision?  “I’ll believe that when I see it!”  Or are you more audial?
• Do you determine if a person is lying by the tone of voice?  Do you love to talk on the phone?
• Don’t forget the sixth sense– intuition.

(This aspect can give you all sorts of plot leads– a visual person might need to learn that appearances can be deceiving; an audial person might learn about a murder because she’s been eavesdropping.  Remember also that an artist’s narration of a scene will use very different terms than a musician’s will.)

EXERCISE #5: Relationship to Problems

• Do you usually notice problems around you?
• What is your response? Do you write an angry letter to the editor?  shrug and move on?  analyze what’s wrong and how to fix it?  take it as evidence that the world is falling apart?  What about problems within yourself?

EXAMPLE: I have to notice problems around me.  That’s sort of my role in the Pierce household.  I’m, well, chaperone/household supervisor/hostess for my uncle. (I’m chaperone for my young cousin, I mean, not my uncle!)

Uncle expects me to keep things running smoothly, so I have to anticipate problems and fix them before he notices.  I’ve done a good job so far, and he promises if I just get through The Month of the Prussian Visitors, he’ll give me the cottage in Folkestone.  I must confess, I’m weary of it all.  I feel I must be always on alert, especially where my cousin is concerned. She is rebellious, and doesn’t appreciate my chaperonage.

Sometimes I would just like to quit– but then I think of my little rose cottage, with the garden where my son can play, and I go back to problem-solving.

EXERCISE #6: Optimist or Pessimist?

• Would you say you were an optimist or a pessimist?  Would your friends agree?
• How would you react if your life suddenly took a turn for the worse?  Are you prepared for that?
• Do you notice when your life is going well?  Does that make you happy?

EXERCISE #7: Memories or Hopes?

• Are you more interested in the past or the future, or do you live in the now?
• Are you one to keep holiday traditions?
• Do you reminisce about days gone by?
• Are you sentimental about objects, like your mother’s handmirror or your first baseball glove?
• How hard would it be to move from your present home?
• How long would you keep in touch with your friends back in the old town?
• How long would it take you to make new friends?

EXERCISE #8: Trust

• How do you decide if you can trust someone?  Experience with others? with this person?  First impressions?  Intuition?
• Do you test the person somehow?  Or are you just generally disposed to trust or not to trust?

EXERCISE #9: Speech Tics

• Are you a deliberate, careful speaker, or do you talk without thinking first?
• Do you like to verbally analyze situations, or do you keep your assessment to yourself until you reach a conclusion?
• Do you use slang, or do you use diction your English teacher would approve?
• Do you consider yourself fairly eloquent?
• How do you get across your meaning when you have to explain something difficult to someone else?

———

Review

NOW read over what you just wrote, and list 5-10 “hallmarks” of your character’s POV, such as “visual… problem-solver… pessimist… dark view of humanity… expects the worst… looks for trouble… wary and curious… always “on the lookout”… oddly sentimental about some things… speaks slowly and distinctly, as if talking to children.”

EXAMPLE: “Rebecca is thoughtful, with a wry sense of humor.  She’s a little weary and impatient, however, and that shows in her voice.  She isn’t the most organized speaker– she will start one thought and another will interrupt.  But she’s obviously educated, though an informal speaker.  She has more self-awareness than most young ladies of her class. I sense she’s keeping some secrets. She seems to feel that she must be… careful, somehow.”

Rebecca’s hallmarks are:

• thoughtful
• wry
• impatient/ digressive
• intelligent but informal
• cautious about how she presents herself

——————

What do you do with your “findings” about this character?

See how the first-person has produced a character voice.

You’re probably going to be using third-person in the book, but sometimes writing a passage or scene in first-person provides a great deal of energy and sometimes revelations you wouldn’t get if you weren’t channeling the character.  Consider keeping something of the style of the character’s narration when you do “deep-third-person”.  And of course you can use the hallmarks of this voice in dialogue.

Look for what they reveal and what they conceal.

One might reveal that she’s worried about getting fired, but conceal why, maybe making light of it– “Oh, the boss is always so picky about some things.”  Or “It really wasn’t mom’s fault. Really.  It was all my fault.”

Remember the rule:

WHAT YOU CONCEAL IS WHAT YOU REVEAL.

That is, anything this character feels like she needs to conceal…?  Probably really important!  And notice HOW she conceals it.

• Does she make light of it?
• Does she lie?
• Does she ignore it?
• Does she wish it away?
• Does she get belligerent and “none of your beeswax?”
• Don’t say, “Well, if she’s concealing it, how do I know?”

You can’t conceal without notice. That is, the very act of concealment should SHOW.  The reader should be able to sense that this is a sensitive topic, or that the character isn’t telling the whole truth, or that she’s making light of something important.

How do you show this? Well, think of how you or your friends or your kids do it.  Think of how when your kid or your friend is trying to hide something, you can tell.  What do they do? Shifting eyes?  A broken-off sentence.  “It really wasn’t mom’s faul– I mean, it was really my fault.”

Me, I always change the subject.

Boss: “Now that deadline coming up– I’m hoping you can get the book in before I leave for that cruise to Alaska.”

Me: “Oh, speaking of Alaska–”

Boss: “But we were speaking of your deadline and whether you’d make it.”

Me: “I am so fascinated by icebergs, aren’t you?”

(I’m really bad at concealing.

Identify the dominate sense.

See if you can discern their perceptual mode– what sense predominates, whether they’re more an observer or a participant, whether they’re hands-on or more book-oriented.  (I write software documentation on the side, see.  And there are those users who just plunge in and try to figure the software out– actually, that’s me – and the ones who read the manual before they even slide the program CD into the PC.  Which would be your character?)

• Does he trust what he sees, or is he a skeptic?
• Does she approach the world with caution or with recklessness?
• Does he play the music in his car really loud, or does he need quiet as he drives so he can think his thoughts?
• How experienced is he in this situation? For example, a poor uneducated cowboy is not going to be able to identify the carpet in the lady’s parlor as an Aubusson. He’s going to be a lot more worried about tracking mud in on his boots.

Anyway, look over your character’s responses and think about how you can apply that to the narration of a scene.

If you’re in this character’s viewpoint…

• What is he going to -see- first when he enters a new setting?
• What is his mood going to be?
• Is he going to notice the people passing by, or is he going to be focused on what his companion is saying, or is he going to be lost in his own thoughts?
• When he gets mad or worried or upset or happy, how is he going to show that?
• What secret is he keeping in this scene, or what agenda does he have, and how will he mentally characterize that.

For example: John’s POV

All John had to do was break into the vault, locate the right safe-deposit box– too bad he didn’t have a clue about the number– jimmy the lock, steal the diamonds, and dig a short tunnel to the sewer pipe.  Piece of cake.

Or–

Mary’s POV–

She slid her hand down into her jacket pocket, closing her fingers around the cold piece of metal.  John would never know what hit him.

—

Alicia Rasley is a 16-year member of Romance Writers of America and Indiana RWA, a writing teacher, and a RITA-award winning Regency author.

Here are a few quick tips for creating dazzling dialogue.

#1 Keep it short

Three to four lines between “   “, then insert an action, change speakers, switch to a quick thought.  This creates more white space, suggests more movement, forces you to be cogent and quick.

#2 Keep it snappy

This is conversation, not a lecture.  Go for demand-reply, stimulus- response… aim for conflict within the conversation.  SHOW the conflict by snapping back and forth.  They don’t have to be  vicious as long as they can interrupt each other.

#3 Keep it active

Watch the static conflict, where they keep arguing about the same thing over and over in the conversation.  Pick out the best exchange that shows that conflict, and then at the end of that exchange, start something new, open a new angle on the subject, bring up something they haven’t yet considered, have a speaker change tactics.

“You never listen to me!”

She sighed.  “Right. Then how come I know exactly what you’re going to say next? If I never listen to you?”

“What? What am I going to say next?”

“You’re going to say that no one listens to you.  You say that every time.”

He started to protest, then paused and regarded her balefully.  “Okay.  So sometimes you listen to me.  You never do anything about it!  It’s even worse!  You listen to me, hear what I’m saying, know what I mean, and then you do nothing!  You don’t even care!”

“Oh, yeah! And no one cares!” She laughed. “And here’s my cue, right? I’m supposed to assure you I care, and show you by doing whatever it is you insist that I do.  Well, the hell with it.  I’m tired of it.  I quit.  You’re right.  I don’t care. No one cares. No one gives a tinker’s damn about you. You’ve been right all along about that.”

#4 Keep it interactive

Use conversational cues like

• interruptions,
• repeated keywords(“You should give him a refund, dad.” “Refund? Refund?”),
• back and forth question-and-answer or
• provocation-response dynamics.

Cues can…

• echo each other
• contradict each other
• mimic each other’s rhythm
• interpret each other

“Just once, I’d like us to have a Christmas, just the two of us.”

“Come on, say what you really mean, that you hate my mother.”

“Okay, I hate your mother.”

#5 Keep it dynamic

The conversation should change the plot in some way if possible– she reveals something she didn’t mean to, they figure something out together, he makes an enemy….

Also show the conversation changing as it goes on. Don’t get stuck in a static is-not/is-so conflict repetition.  They start out agreeing and end up realizing that they’re at odds, or they start out hopelessly deadlocked and talk their way to a truce.

#6 Keep it subtext

Use dialogue to show what lies underneath– a flirtation?  A secret? A deception?  What’s being concealed yet still revealed?

#7 Keep it meaningful

Forget “hello, how are you?” Make each dialogue exchange count. Start conversations in a provocative way, like:  “Where the hell have you been?” or “I should have known I’d find you here,” or “Hey, it’s you! I’ve been dreaming about you.”

#8 Keep it simple

Use the quote tags necessary, but don’t go searching the thesaurus for “interesting tags.”  Here are some easy, inconspicuous ones:

said, added, commented, remarked, asked, demanded, replied, retorted, suggested, observed, concluded, began, interrupted.

Try these out– Each of these has a unique “feel” and role– “added” is good after a speaker has paused and resumed.

Use adverbs sparingly, but they can be helpful in small doses– she murmured viciously, he added casually.

Action tags use character action to define who is speaking.  Look for something meaningful, especially if it conveys something more than or other than what the speaker says aloud:

“I’m not nervous. Not a bit.”  Tom patted his breast pocket for the third time, just to make sure his speech text hadn’t evaporated in the last few minutes. “Public speaking doesn’t worry me at all.”

Where you put the quote tag can make a difference, at least in sound, so experiment:

• Joan said, “It makes little difference what you want, because you won’t get it.”
• “It makes little difference what you want,” Joan said, “because you won’t get it.”
• “It makes little difference what you want, because you won’t get it,” Joan said.

Use punctuation to convey meaning:

…  means the voice is fading out.

– means a break or interruption.

Your turn!  Try these 8 techniques and dazzle your reader.

—

Alicia Rasley is a 13-year member of Romance Writers of America, a writing teacher, and a RITA-award winning Regency author. She teaches at Painted Rock Writers Colony.

This is a hands-on exercise you can do by yourself or in a group.  I often use this in workshops, and it is amazing how much insight you can gain to quickly get you to the important work of the first draft.

An Outline Is a Map

What if you could map out your book in 30 minutes?  This is a quick exercise designed to sketch out the major events of your novel. It only gives you a map– you have to make the drive yourself!

Get a kitchen timer or set your alarm. You’re going to free-write for three minutes on several questions. (If you want to cheat and write for five minutes on each, go ahead. Just be warned the exercise might take you an hour then.)

In free-writing, you put your fingers to keyboard or pen to paper, and you write, without regard to grammar, spelling, sense, or organization, for a specified period of time.

The trick is– you can’t stop till the bell rings. If you can’t think of anything to say, you just write your last word over and over. Pretty quick you’ll get bored and think of something else to write. But remember, turn off the editor. This is exploration, not real writing.

Setup

Type or write each question, then set the clock, read the question allowed, and go.

1. Distinguishing Strength.

At the start of your book, what distinguishes your protagonist from other people? What central strength does he/she have? How does this strength get him/her into trouble?

Strength: Sue’s really good at problem solving. Trouble: She’s always being brought in at the last minute to clean up other people’s messes.

2. Protagonist In Action

When the novel opens, what is s/he on the brink of doing? Why does he/she say she’s going to do this? What does this action represent for the protagonist?

She’s just moved into a new town and has volunteered to do the stage managing for the community theater. She says that theater work is fun, and she’ll get to make new friends. This represents her attempt to become part of the new community.

3. The External Situation

What external situation will require the protagonist’s participation throughout the course of the book? How does this connect with #2? Does it help or interfere? Can you build in a deadline for extra tension

The community theater’s director absconds with all their money. If they don’t somehow pull off an economical but successful Hamlet performance in a week, the community theater will go bankrupt.

4. The Main Goal

What is the protagonist’s goal for the time the book covers? How does this connect with the external situation? Or does the external situation divert the protagonist from his/her goal? Why does the protagonist SAY he/she wants the goal? Is there a deeper motivation as yet unknown to him/her?

She wants to participate in a successful theater presentation. She says it’s because it will be good for the community. A deeper motivation is that she needs to be part of a cohesive group or she’ll be lonely and lost. All the problems in the external situation will be obstacles to participating in a successful presentation.

5. The External Conflict

What problem (external conflict) does the external situation present? How can the protagonist eventually resolve that conflict?

She is dragooned into taking over direction of the community theater’s performance of Hamlet one week before the first show, and she’s never directed a play before. She’s a good problem-solver, and she will use these skills to tackle all the theater’s problems.

6. Three Obstacles

List at least three obstacles in the way of her resolving this conflict. Make one an internal obstacle/conflict.

There’s not enough money for costumes.

None of the other actors think Sue can replace the gifted Stockinsky, the former director.

The actor playing Hamlet is a drunk.

Five days before the performance, her mother announces she hates her nursing home and wants to move in with Sue.

The theater’s roof is leaking and rain is predicted for performance night.

Internal– Sue’s need to be part of a group and be loved makes it hard for her to take charge and say no.

7. Character Growth

How will the protagonist grow because of confronting these obstacles?

When she has to fire the drunken Hamlet and replace him with a young inexperienced understudy, she learns to trust her judgment, assert her authority, and risk alienating her fellows. That is, she becomes a leader.

8. The Big Finish

What do you want to happen at the end of the book?

I want the production to be successful despite some last-minute problems, and I want her to accept her position as leader.

9. What will have to happen to the protagonist against his/her will to make your ending come about?

Sue will have to get the courage to fire the popular Hamlet actor and still use her people skills to rally the shocked cast. She’ll also have to inspire the understudy to a great performance.

(As you can see, this will outline a plot driven by the protagonist’s motivation and interaction with the world. Please note, not all books rely so heavily on the protagonist’s personality. This works best with popular genre novels or novels with a “quest” structure. But the answers to these questions can help you determine where you’re going and how you’re going to get there.)

Okay, half hour’s up.

Now how do you make a story out of this?

Think of the answers to Questions #1 and #2 as your starting point. The answer to Question #8 is your ending point (all subject to change, of course!); everything else is landmarks along the way.

STORYTELLING STEP 1: Hook Into Action From the Start

Use #2 to craft an opening scene that involves the reader right away. A character on the brink of some action provides a lot of forward momentum. Consider, for example, Sue’s desire to join the community theater group as stage manager.

That action can involve the reader in the external situation described in #3 (the former director absconding with the funds), and/or be in pursuit of the goal you defined in #4.

• If it happens, what unforeseen consequences does it have? (For example, she might start as stage manager and realize the director is a fraud.)
• If it doesn’t happen, what has prevented it? (Maybe she wants to be stage manager, but arrives just after the director scarpers, and because she has some theater experience, they make her director instead of stage manager.)

Now what is the protagonist going to do?

STORYTELLING STEP 2:  Glorious Pursuit of a Goal

Answer # 4 gives the protagonist’s intended destination. Consider why the protagonist wants to achieve this goal, and how pursuit of it will involve him/her further in the external situation described in #3. (She wants a successful production enough to agree to be director.)

How is the goal related to answer #1, whatever sets this person apart from everyone else? (Her reputation as a “hands-on problem-solver” has been established in her job as a trouble-shooter for a local software company, so she knows she can be a good stage-manager.)

The goal can be related to the external situation, but probably include some internal component too (she wants to become part of the community quickly so she won’t feel lonely and lost). The obstacles too might arise from the external situation as well as from within.

STORYTELLING STEP 3:  Obstacles Create the Drama

# 6 lists obstacles to the resolution of the conflict. Which are external (the drunken actor, mom’s sudden and disruptive arrival)? Which are internal (her inability to say no, her guilt over mom)? How do these relate to the external situation?

Sketch at least one scene around each of these — or toss a couple out and have a single obstacle repeatedly plague the protagonist.

Show the protagonist encountering each obstacle, taking stock, and acting or reacting. Probably the obstacle will win at least once. See if you can make these ascend in order of emotional risk– that is, make taking on the first obstacle (no money for costumes) less of an emotional gamble than the next (having to ask the carpenter she kind of has a crush on to fix the roof for free).

The last obstacle should require her to make a huge emotional gamble, one she couldn’t have made at the beginning of the story but must do now that she has so much invested (she risks alienating the entire cast and the community by firing the popular actor).

STORYTELLING STEP 4:  Use What Makes Your Protagonist Special

Then what? The special quality you defined in 1 should come into play here (problem-solving skills)– and the issue/problem you have noted in this character (overwhelming desire to be liked).

• What will cause self-doubt and failure?
• What will bring back confidence? Can you show a gradually ascending level of achievement, as small defeats are overcome to bring on small victories?
• What’s important is to make the interaction with the obstacles individual to this character, and the success or failure have some effect on him/her– the growth (positive or negative) you described in 7.

Will the external conflict be resolved? Either way, the attempts to resolve the conflict can be the climb up to the climax.

The special quality and motivation of the protagonist, the most difficult obstacle, an important event in the external situation, and the goal, can all meet and explode in the climax (she fires Hamlet and brings on the young understudy, whom she has secretly coached, and faces down the cast mutiny).

STORYTELLING STEP 5:  Imagine the Conflict Resolved

In the resolution, however, your own ending takes over. The resolution of the conflict can be fulfilling or empty– she can have a great production and go home to an empty house.

(Or one with a petulant mom in it.) Or she can use her new-found “just-say-no” ability to gently guide mother to another, more appealing nursing home, and her old “just-say-yes” ability to start a new relationship with the generous carpenter. Just remember, your ending is going to help determine the message your reader will retain after closing the book, so make it fit your theme. (In this case, maybe, “Successful leadership sometimes depends on making the appropriate but unpopular decision.”)

STORYTELLING STEP 6:  Use the Best, Most Inspiring Material in Your Book

This is only an exercise, not a set of rules. Use what is illuminating, discard everything else. Your novel should find its own path.

But knowing where you’re going and some of the landmarks you’ll pass can make the journey a little less daunting.