Have you ever read a book that gripped you from the very start\u2014and then slowly wound down into a quagmire of details?<\/p>\n
That\u2019s why pace is so important in literature. If your story advances too fast, the reader will feel rushed and disconnected from the characters; too slow, and the reader will fall asleep.<\/p>\n
Hitting the sweet middle point that keeps the reader turning pages eagerly is precisely what we\u2019ll learn to do in this article.<\/p>\n
In the words of author and fiction-writing expert Jessica Page Morrell (qtd. in Carpenter), \u201cPacing is a tool that controls the speed and rhythm at which a story is told and the readers are pulled through the events. It refers to how fast or slow events in a piece unfold and how much time elapses in a scene or story.\u201d<\/p>\n
Think of the books that really stayed with you long after you finished reading them. I guarantee that the authors of those masterpieces thought carefully about their pacing and found ways to improve it during their revision process.<\/p>\n
Because, yes, even the greatest authors (such as the ones quoted in this article) have to revise their novel drafts with a special eye for pacing.<\/p>\n
And you can, too.<\/p>\n
Before we get into the nitty-gritty of keeping up the pace in your own novel, let\u2019s look at examples from literature that\u2019s already out there.<\/p>\n
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie\u2019s landmark novel,\u00a0Half of a Yellow Sun<\/em>, follows the lives of four different characters whose worlds are upended during the Biafran War of the late 1960s and early 1970s.<\/p>\n The novel begins with a slow pace, setting the scene in ways that might seem unnecessary at first. Take this slow-paced paragraph from one character\u2019s perspective. He\u2019s a new servant for an educated village man, and every little detail makes it into the book:<\/p>\n In the following weeks, the weeks where he examined every corner of the bungalow, when he discovered that a beehive was lodged on the cashew tree and that butterflies converged in the front yard when the sun was the brightest, he was just as careful in learning the rhythms of Master\u2019s life. Every morning, he picked up the\u00a0Daily Times<\/em> and Renaissance<\/em>that the vendor dropped off at the door and folded them on the table next to Master\u2019s tea and bread. He had the Opel washed before Master finished breakfast, and when Master came back from work and was taking a siesta, he dusted the car over again, before Master left for the tennis courts. (Ngozi Adichie 16)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n Note the long sentences and the attention to the mundane rituals of Master\u2019s day. This is a perfect example of sentence structure working together with content to create slow pace.<\/p>\n There\u2019s something fascinating even in the plodding pace of this paragraph, but its power really shines in the second half of the book: The war shatters everything mundane, and readers think back on paragraphs like this one with something akin to nostalgia.<\/p>\n It\u2019s a bold, skilled move to use with care. The best authors know exactly what they\u2019re doing when they craft sections that allow readers to get comfortable with a soon-to-be-destroyed status quo.<\/p>\n In a book titled\u00a0The Scorpio Races<\/em>, you\u2019d expect a trove of fast-paced scenes. And in Maggie Stiefvater\u2019s 2011 novel, that\u2019s exactly what you get. Woven through with ancient myths and characters you can\u2019t help but love, the book is a masterpiece in literary thrill.<\/p>\n This scene from the book\u2019s climax, in which Dove (a regular horse) races against the mythical, violent\u00a0capaill uisce\u00a0<\/em>water horses, illustrates fast pacing wonderfully:<\/p>\n It only takes a minute for Dove to be bitten and another few seconds for me to be cut by some razor-sharp edge that I don\u2019t think can be horse teeth. I don\u2019t have time to look at the wound or guess what has cut me. We\u2019re trapped in a crush of bodies. Even over the rush of wind in my ears, I hear their squeals and roars, the clucks and growls as they fight. (Stiefvater 382)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n The character\u2019s present-tense narration helps keep the pace quick, but more than that, the sentences are shorter. They\u2019re packed with action, too: in the first sentence alone, both Puck (the narrator) and her horse get bitten.<\/p>\n In the second sentence, we get a sense of the speed with which everything is happening. In the third and fourth, Stiefvater transports the reader to the sights and sounds and feeling of running in the frantic, loud, terrifying race.<\/p>\n Now that you know what slow and fast pacing look like, let\u2019s turn to your own writing. First, let\u2019s see when a good time to pick up the pace is. (Later, we\u2019ll see how exactly you can create the effect of speeding up.)<\/p>\n There are three major instances when you should keep pacing moving quickly:<\/p>\n There\u2019s nothing worse than a scene that\u2019s supposed to be exciting, but\u2026isn\u2019t. If you\u2019ve ever read a scene about a battle, a car chase, or something similar and felt bored by it, you know what I mean.<\/p>\n It\u2019s likely that while the authors made sure the content itself was exciting, their actual writing kept the pace from keeping up with the content.<\/p>\n So now you know: fast pacing \u2014 not just exciting content \u2014 is a crucial element in any action scene.<\/p>\n When I was studying with author Tim Wynne-Jones at Vermont College of Fine Arts, he told me that the most exciting scene in your entire book should come at the climax.<\/p>\n It makes sense, really. The climax is the culmination of all the events, thoughts, and threads that came before. It\u2019s the moment when your characters come face-to-face with their biggest obstacles. A climax should be intense, surprising, inevitable, and \u2014 yes \u2014 fast-paced.<\/p>\n No matter what happens toward the beginning or middle of your chapter, your pacing should pick up toward the end of each chapter. There should be a problem left unsolved, something to propel the reader to the next chapter without stopping to shut your book and get a drink of water.<\/p>\n Now that you know the three most important spots to keep the pacing up in your fiction, you might be wondering: \u201cHow exactly do I accomplish a fast pace in my story?\u201d<\/p>\n Don\u2019t worry! We have tips. Lots of them.<\/p>\n Kekla Magoon\u2019s 2014 novel,\u00a0How It Went Down,\u00a0<\/em>is an excellent example of how brevity influences fast pacing. Told via 200 vignettes from 18 narrators, the book examines gun violence in the United States \u2014 gun violence against people of color in particular.<\/p>\n The book begins in the moments after Black teenager Tariq Johnson dies by gunshot wound on an errand to the grocery store. It\u2019s a subject that necessitates an urgent pacing throughout the novel, and Magoon pulls it off masterfully.<\/p>\n Here\u2019s an example from a vignette at the beginning of the book, told from the viewpoint of a witness to the shooting. It\u2019s an action scene, and it moves quickly:<\/p>\n I\u2019m not sure I had time to blink. It was over in a minute. My brain coiled around the knowledge:\u00a0The boy in the hoodie has been shot<\/em>. The loud sound echoed in my ears, as did his final whimper. The soft clatter-crash of his fall. The sound \u2014 yes, the\u00a0sound<\/em>\u00a0\u2014 of the look the shooter gave me. It had a voice, that look. Sharp and clear like a bell. (Magoon 4)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n The excerpt is short, yet it conveys how fast the shooting happened and how deeply it impacted the witness. Magoon packs her sentences with details that make the scene come alive. Some of her sentences are even fragments, which further evoke a sense of the impossibly fast pace of the murder.<\/p>\n For your own action scenes, climaxes, and chapter endings, you\u2019ll want to keep channel Kekla Magoon and keep it short to keep it fast-paced.<\/p>\n Magoon\u2019s entire novel is a lesson in the power of short chapters or vignettes. Printz Honor-winning author Julie Berry\u2019s novel,\u00a0All the Truth That\u2019s in Me<\/em>, also takes an unusual but effective approach to chapters: Instead of standard chapters, she uses roman numerals to mark off short chapters. Each set of chapters is marked off by the title of a book: Book 1, Book 2, and so on through Book 4.<\/p>\n In the climax of her book, she uses the technique to switch effortlessly \u2014 and breathlessly \u2014 between an important flashback and her current, climactic situation. Her past-tense writing indicates the flashback, while the present tense marks the climax:<\/p>\n XIV.<\/p>\n I climbed down from the tree and tiptoed across the clearing to where Lottie\u2019s body lay. I crouched beside her and touched her neck. Her mouth was open, her tongue distended. She looked nothing like herself. If it weren\u2019t for her dress, and what I\u2019d seen before, I could almost wonder if it was her. I backed away. Then hands seized me from the back and wrapped themselves around my neck.<\/p>\n XV.<\/p>\n Goody reaches the top step and disappears through the door. Just an old widow, making afternoon prayers. It must be around half past two.<\/p>\n XVI.<\/p>\n Something crashed into us like a boulder rolling downhill. I fell to the ground, crushed under the man\u2019s weight and whatever had hit him. It was another man. (257)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n Berry\u2019s Roman-numeral chapters are longer in sections that require a slower pace, but here in the climax, they are short. This brevity keeps readers glued to the page, brains leaping back and forth over the flashback and the climax, desperate for answers.<\/p>\n This is exactly what you want readers to do with your fiction, too, especially in those three crucial areas where you need a fast pace.<\/p>\n Short chapters are a particularly wonderful tool during climactic scenes. Break the climax down into several short, tense chapters and watch your pacing pick right up!<\/p>\n In special cases, you can use a one-sentence chapter to pack the ultimate punch in your fiction. You should use this technique very sparingly, however, because a one-sentence chapter tends to lose its power if used more than one time in a novel.<\/p>\n Take the famously short chapter in William Faulkner\u2019s\u00a0As I Lay Dying<\/em>, which reads: \u201cMy mother is a fish.\u201d<\/p>\n That\u2019s it. That\u2019s the whole chapter.<\/p>\n Here\u2019s what precedes it: A child, the character Vardaman, cannot understand the death of his mother, which happens earlier in the book. No one in his family will tell him why she\u2019s shut up in a box, and he tries and tries to figure out what\u2019s wrong with her.<\/p>\n Then, the family is crossing a river. The box with his mother inside floats into the water and Vardaman decides, \u201cMy mother is a fish.\u201d<\/p>\n The one-sentence chapter, stated with such assuredness, is enough to break the reader\u2019s heart.<\/p>\n On the Gilmore Girls book-fan blog,\u00a0Reading Like Rory<\/em>, writer Kaitlyn Hawkins says, \u201cIn 5 words Faulkner demonstrates Vardaman\u2019s confusion with death and his eager longing to make sense of his mother\u2019s situation\u2026.In 5 words Faulkner breaks your heart for a boy whose only wish is to reunite with his mother\u201d (Hawkins).<\/p>\n If you can use a one-sentence chapter in a way that lingers with readers for a long, long time, then go for it!<\/p>\n Pulitzer Prize-winning author Anthony Doerr has an unusual but enlightening reason he keeps his scenes (and chapters) short: \u201cIt’s like I’m saying to the reader, \u2018I know this is going to be more lyrical than maybe 70 percent of American readers want to see, but here’s a bunch of white space for you to recover from that lyricism\u2019\u201d (Doerr).<\/p>\n His prose is indeed rich, and the white space does help the eye take it all in more smoothly, but within that lyricism, there is also action \u2014 whether Doerr admits it or not.<\/p>\n Take this scene from his Pulitzer-winning novel,\u00a0All the Light We Cannot See,\u00a0<\/em>about protagonist Werner\u2019s friend Frederick. Both boys are studying at the National Political Institute of Education at Schulpforta, but they\u2019re not faring equally well:<\/p>\n Three times in nine days, Frederick is chosen as the weakest in field exercises\u2026.Each time he is caught; each time he is drubbed while Bastian looks on; each time Werner does nothing to stop it. Frederick lasts seven blows before falling. Then six. Then three. He never cries out and never asks to leave, and this in particular seems to make the commandant quake with homicidal frustration. Frederick\u2019s dreaminess, his otherness\u2014it\u2019s on him like a scent, and everyone can smell it. (Doerr 238)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n It\u2019s a short scene, but it\u2019s powerful. Within Doerr\u2019s lyrical prose, readers ache for gentle Frederick. We feel angry with Werner for doing nothing, yet we wonder if we would\u2019ve been courageous enough to act differently in his place.<\/p>\n This short scene provokes complex thought. Here\u2019s how you can craft short, sharp scenes:<\/p>\n Reading through a huge block of text is like having someone talk at you for hours and hours without giving you space to breath (or reply). Don\u2019t do that to your readers! While you want to vary the length of your paragraphs, it\u2019s a good idea to keep them on the short side so that your readers can breathe and absorb the words you\u2019ve written.<\/p>\n This example from Julie Berry\u2019s\u00a0All the Truth That\u2019s in Me<\/em>, kept in its original form, is a prime example of the power of short paragraphs:<\/p>\n Smoke eats a hole in the dark sky.<\/p>\n Darrel lies maimed before me.<\/p>\n Your father is dead.<\/p>\n The homelanders are extinct, their bodies flying up to the stars. I won\u2019t have to see this thing that I have done.<\/p>\n Survivors search with lighted branches for the injured and the dead.<\/p>\n The river churns and swirls over ink-black stones, singing its endless song.<\/p>\n And we are both alive this night, you, and I. (72)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n Readers don\u2019t just have time to absorb this paragraph; because it comes after one of the tensest early scenes in the novel, they blow through it.<\/p>\n Berry intentionally crafts her paragraphs to be read by breathless, hungry readers, and every reader who sees these lines will turn the page quickly to find out what happens next.<\/p>\n In your novel, keep paragraphs during climaxes, chapter endings, and action scenes shorter. This will make sure that your pacing clips along nicely, keeping your reader pinned to the page and eager for more of your story.<\/p>\n I love fragments. Too much, maybe. It\u2019s easy for me to overuse them in my fiction, but used sparingly, they make a point like no other sentence structure can.<\/p>\n In\u00a0How It Went Down<\/em>, Kekla Magoon uses fragments perfectly. Tyrell, best friend of murdered Tariq, is collecting cans from a white neighbor to sell back to the city. In the background, he hears the sound of a refrigerator door opening.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, sorry,\u201d I tell [my neighbor]. \u201cI didn\u2019t mean to bother you while you had company.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t worry about it,\u201d he says, his voice growing tense. A shadow moves across the hallway behind him. My eye goes to it automatically. I see a face that I\u2019ve seen every day on television. A face that now looms in my nightmares. (262)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n That last sentence, a fragment, wouldn\u2019t make sense on its own. But coming where it does, readers infer that Tyrell has just spotted the very man who shot his best friend, Tariq. Magoon doesn\u2019t even have to say it; we just know, and we are horrified that he\u2019s been hiding out at the neighbor\u2019s house.<\/p>\n The fragment, which comes at the end of a chapter, speeds the narrative right up. We will immediately turn to the next chapter to find out what happens next.<\/p>\n When you use fragments, make sure they do the same for your story!<\/p>\n Another way to keep your chapter endings, action scenes, and climaxes quick-paced is to make your characters exchange dialog rapidly. Don\u2019t linger on mannerisms or movements here; you just want the dialog and just enough extra to let readers know who\u2019s speaking.<\/p>\n A late scene in Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie\u2019s\u00a0Half of a Yellow Sun\u00a0<\/em>shows housemen Harrison and Ugwu sitting outside together toward the starving, bitter end of the Biafran War.<\/p>\n Remember easily charmed, puppy-like Ugwu from the beginning of the book? He\u2019s gone now, and the dialog makes that clear:<\/p>\n One afternoon, Harrison came up to the flame tree carrying the radio turned up high to Radio Biafra.<\/p>\n \u201cPlease turn that thing off,\u201d Ugwu said. He was watching some little boys playing on the nearby patch of grass. \u201cI want to hear the birds.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThere are no birds singing,\u201d Harrison said.<\/p>\n \u201cTurn it off.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHis Excellency is about to give a speech.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTurn it off or carry it away.<\/p>\n \u201cYou don\u2019t want to hear His Excellency?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMba<\/em>, no.\u201d<\/p>\n Harrison was watching him. \u201cIt will be a great speech.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThere is no such thing as greatness,\u201d Ugwu said. (500)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n The Ugwu of Ngozi Adichie\u2019s early chapters believed in greatness, but that belief has vanished under the atrocities of war. Note, also, how the back-and-forth dialog builds tension, burning low at the beginning and ending with the quiet eruption that Ugwu no longer believes in something he once held dear.<\/p>\n Though Ngozi Adichie never says, \u201cUgwu got more and more frustrated,\u201d you can hear the frustration in his voice in this dialog exchange.<\/p>\n Another way to keep your action scenes fast-paced is to leave out everything that doesn\u2019t pertain to the action in question. Jump from sequence to sequence with barely a breath in between, like Maggie Stiefvater does in\u00a0The Scorpio Races\u2019\u00a0<\/em>action-scene climax.<\/p>\n She switches quickly between Puck and Sean\u2019s viewpoint narratives, each narrative bursting with action. It\u2019s the same race, but the two characters have two different sets of stakes at hand. Because of this, readers are almost living through two action-packed, terrifying climaxes at once.<\/p>\n Here\u2019s a snippet from Sean\u2019s point of view:<\/p>\n I am holding Corr, but I am holding nothing. Somewhere, there is a high, clear scream, and then I\u2019m falling. In the moment between Corr\u2019s back and the surf, I think first of the dozens of horses behind us and then of my father\u2019s death. (Stiefvater 389)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n A few paragraphs later, we skip to Puck\u2019s viewpoint, as she realizes she\u2019s just won The Scorpio Races:<\/p>\n They\u2019re shouting my name and Dove\u2019s. I think I hear Finn among them, but maybe I imagine it. And still there are the water horses at the end of the race, milling and rearing and twisting. But I don\u2019t see Sean\u2026.My hands won\u2019t stop shaking; I have a terrible feeling inside me. (390-31)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n By moving back and forth between these two viewpoints and making sure each sentence shows us how important and high-staked each moment is, Stiefvater keeps the pace plowing forward.<\/p>\n That\u2019s exactly what readers want in a climactic scene!<\/p>\n Every fiction writer knows how important it is to keep your narrative voice active. We all get impatient with sentences like, \u201cA crate of jewels was stolen out of a 1980 Toyota Camry.\u201d We all, instead, want to know WHO stole the crate of jewels out of such an unassuming car.<\/p>\n Think of your writing in the same way: We want to know who did what, not what was done to who. And we want to know it with verbs that jump out and grab us by the wrist and sweep us into the moment.<\/p>\n During a critique group I did in my MFA program, one of my friends told me to use snappier verbs in my main action scene at the beginning of the book.<\/p>\n The original read, \u201cI force myself to take a gasping breath before diving underwater. I scratch the riverbed\u2019s pebbles and silt and force my eyes open, but all I see is mud. The river pulls my legs and arms.\u201d<\/p>\n The revised version says, \u201cI have to force myself to take a gasping breath before diving underwater. I\u00a0claw<\/strong>\u00a0the riverbed\u2019s pebbles and silt and\u00a0push<\/strong>\u00a0my eyes open, but all I see is mud. The river\u00a0twists<\/strong>\u00a0my arms and\u00a0shoves\u00a0<\/strong>my legs.\u201d<\/p>\n The original has a few aggressive verbs and a few dull ones, but the second? All aggressive, and the pacing moves more quickly, more desperately, because of it.<\/p>\n I have kept my friend\u2019s advice tucked away in my mind ever since she helped me with that revision!<\/p>\n The number-one thing that slows down fictional stories is a lack of action. If nothing is happening, your reader will get bored and return your book to the library.<\/p>\n You\u00a0must\u00a0<\/em>make sure that you\u2019re putting your characters through every problem possible as they\u2019re striving to reach their goal. And just as they\u2019re solving one problem, spring them with another. Make it seem utterly impossible for them to get out of their terrible situation.<\/p>\n Tom McNeal does an excellent job of this in his novel,\u00a0Far Far Away<\/em>\u00a0when a jolly baker, Sten Blix, kidnaps protagonist Jeremy Johnson Johnson and his friends, and nothing Jeremy does to try to free himself works.<\/p>\n In one scene, he attempts to write a code-riddled letter to his father, and as the baker is collecting the letters and cutting the captives\u2019 food, Jeremy makes a bold move: \u201cJeremy shot his arm through the bars and grabbed at the knife! I was completely surprised by his action\u2014but the baker was not. He snatched the knife back, and Jeremy\u2019s hand closed \u2026 not around the handle but around the blade\u201d (McNeal 296).<\/p>\n This action sparks a glimmer of hope that is quickly blotted out. But, readers think, there is still the coded letter. Jeremy\u2019s father will receive it and know that the kids are in \u201cSten\u2019s basement\u201d (297).<\/p>\n In the next moment, however, that hope disappears. The baker tells Jeremy he knows the knife ploy was a mere distraction. When Ginger asks what it was distracting him from, the baker responds chillingly:<\/p>\n The baker\u2019s cold eyes turned to [Ginger]. Then, very slowly, he reached down to the cart and retrieved Jeremy\u2019s note to his father. \u201cFrom this, my dear girl.\u201d<\/p>\n He unfolded the note and, with a pencil, drew a long loop that encircled the first letter of each line. He then held the note up for Ginger to see. (297)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n The circled letters form Jeremy\u2019s desperate \u201cSten\u2019s basement\u201d phrase. Readers, now infuriated at the baker, feel little hope.<\/p>\n Later in the story, when the baker poisons the children\u2019s food and Jacob Grimm, the ghostly narrator, warns Jeremy not to eat it, Jeremy and his companions are too hungry to care. They inhale the poisoned porridge, Jacob watching helplessly as they traverse the path to death.<\/p>\n How will Jeremy and Ginger escape this situation and get back on track to achieving their goals in the story?<\/p>\n You\u2019ll have to read the book to find out. And trust me, you won\u2019t be able to turn the pages quickly enough.<\/p>\n We may regard Charles Dickens as a great literary icon, but he was also an extremely wordy writer.\u00a0David Copperfield<\/em>\u00a0runs longest at 358,000 words. By comparison, most novels run somewhere between 60,000 and 100,000 words, depending on genre.<\/p>\n Dickens includes every possible detail in his books. Not only does he stuff the narration with details; the dialog is lines and lines and lines of details, too!<\/p>\n Writing coach Lisa Cron explains it well when she writes, \u201cThe real goal of sensory details isn\u2019t simply to let us know what it looked like or how it felt, physically. The goal is to choose the sensory details that give us insight into the story itself, so we experience it\u00a0emotionally<\/em>\u201d (Cron).<\/p>\n So, leave out the details that add to the scene but not to the story. Show how something tasted\u2026if\u00a0<\/em>you can do it in a way that reveals character or provokes an emotional response in the reader.<\/p>\n Instead of randomly describing the barn your character sees when she\u2019s driving to school, tie the barn into the problem she\u2019s struggling through. Make its chipping red paint reflect her weariness, its sag speak about how crushed she feels. Make every detail work for your story and show the reader why you\u2019re telling it.<\/p>\n In general, ignore details about what people are wearing. What the weather feels like. How quickly the cornfields outside are growing. (Unless<\/em>, of course, you can make those details matter.)<\/p>\n Instead, especially for end-of-chapter, action, and climax scenes, focus on\u2026<\/p>\n Sweat dripping into your character\u2019s eyes. Slippery palms. Those physical details that let readers slip right into your characters\u2019 shoes.<\/p>\n In that scene from\u00a0The Scorpio Races<\/em>\u00a0that happens just after Puck wins the race, she feels everything, physically: \u201cI slow Dove, patting her neck, laughing and rubbing away tears with the back of my bloody hand. All of my pain\u2019s melted away; all that remains are ceaseless shivers. I stand shakily in my stirrups\u201d (390).<\/p>\n She\u2019s bleeding, shaking, sweating, and laughing. Readers feel it all right along with her.<\/p>\n That\u2019s masterful writing. For fast-paced scenes, keep your details physical and relevant.<\/p>\n I know, I know. This advice goes against that popular \u201cshow, don\u2019t tell\u201d line every writer knows. But sometimes, you need to relay important information, and the only way to do it without slowing things down is to simply tell it.<\/p>\n In\u00a0All the Light We Cannot See<\/em>, six-year-old Marie-Laure, takes a tour of a museum with her father. She\u2019s already suffering from poor eyesight, but she can still see. Her father asks her if she had fun, and this is what follows:<\/p>\n A little brown house sparrow swoops out of the rafters and lands on the tiles in front of her. Marie-Laure holds out an open palm. The sparrow tilts his head, considering. Then it flaps away.<\/p>\n One month later she is blind. (Doerr 23)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n I love how Doerr infuses the sparrow with detail; it\u2019s clear that Marie-Laure\u00a0did\u00a0<\/em>have fun \u2014 and not only that, she can enjoy the sight of a brown sparrow.<\/p>\n With one short, simple sentence, Doerr tells us how blindness took that all away. He could have taken his time describing the blindness shutting Marie-Laure\u2019s vision down, but that buildup had already happened earlier in the novel.<\/p>\n All he needed was that short sentence to get the sobering point across. Also, the sentence comes at the end of a chapter \u2014 and what reader won\u2019t flip the page to find out how Marie-Laure\u2019s blindness complicates her life?<\/p>\n The beauty of foreshadowing is that it sparks worry in the reader long before the scene in question. Readers can delight in knowing something terrible is going to happen \u2014 in other words, something with tension and action \u2014 and keep that tidbit tucked in their mind as the story continues to build at its regular pace.<\/p>\n Lauren Wolk uses foreshadowing well in her Newbery Honor-winning novel,\u00a0Wolf Hollow<\/em>. After meeting a character named Toby, a vagabond who eventually becomes a dear friend, the narrator and protagonist says, \u201cWe would have been spared some trouble if [Toby and I] had not crossed paths that day\u201d (Wolk 29).<\/p>\n That line gets readers\u2019 minds whirring. Why did meeting Toby, a good friend, heap trouble onto Annabelle, the protagonist? While readers won\u2019t get the answer for many chapters, Wolk continues to slip bits of foreshadowing into her scenes.<\/p>\n This foreshadowing makes the book impossible to put down, because you want to find out what the trouble is and how Annabelle gets through it.<\/p>\n It\u2019s harder to employ foreshadowing if you\u2019re writing in the present tense. Wolk\u2019s narrator, Annabelle, is telling a story from an aged perspective, so it\u2019s easy for her to hint at the trouble that changed her life.<\/p>\n If your narration allows for it, carefully place a few sentences of foreshadowing into your novel and watch the pace pick up!<\/p>\n Every single one of my advisors during my MFA program applauded any chapter I wrote that ended on a cliffhanger.<\/p>\n Cliffhangers are the easiest way to keep your chapter and scene-endings fast-paced. Look at the first few chapters in your novel, or scenes in your short story. Do they end with a resolution, or with a question?<\/p>\n If they end with a resolution of conflict, it\u2019s time to re-work the chapter so that the resolution doesn\u2019t come until the following chapter.<\/p>\n The chapter just before Puck and Sean\u2019s climactic race scene in\u00a0The Scorpio Races\u00a0<\/em>illustrates this beautifully. Puck sits atop her land horse, Dove, ready to race; she wishes she were next to Sean and his water horse, Corr:<\/p>\n Three race officials are pressing us back into lines behind great wooden poles. The lines ring and shrill with hundreds of bells on dozens of hooves. The\u00a0capaill uisce<\/em>\u00a0snap and snort, paw and shudder. I keep Dove as far from her neighbors as I can. Her ears are flattened back to her head. She\u2019s surrounded by predators.<\/p>\n Beside me, the\u00a0capall uisce<\/em>\u00a0shakes its head and foam cascades down its neck and \u00a0chest.<\/p>\n They\u2019re counting down.<\/p>\n The ocean says\u00a0shhhhhhhh, shhhhhhh.<\/em><\/p>\n They lift the poles. (Stiefvater 379)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n The chapter ends there, right as the race begins. What a cliffhanger! This whole scene is rich with physical, relevant details, short sentences, and the promise of terrifying yet long-awaited action.<\/p>\n Stiefvater could\u2019ve ended the chapter once Dove started running and the crush of the race began. Instead, she leaves us breathless on the edge of the starting line.<\/p>\n Who wouldn\u2019t read on?<\/p>\n In a well-paced story, you\u2019ll not only need to keep it moving quickly during chapter endings, action scenes, and climaxes, but you\u2019ll also have to slow it down sometimes.<\/p>\n Here are four moments in a story when you want your pace to move more slowly.<\/p>\n Don\u2019t rush through scenes of love \u2014 let your characters linger in the moment. In a good novel, a moment of intimacy or romance will be hard-won, and readers (and characters!) don\u2019t want you to rush through it.<\/p>\n When your character makes a choice that changes them, slow the pace down. This is a big moment, and your slowing of the pace will help readers process it fully and understand the gravity of what has happened.<\/p>\n You know all that foreshadowing we talked about earlier? When you\u2019re approaching the culmination of your bits of foreshadowing,\u00a0slow down.\u00a0<\/em><\/strong>The reader knows the Big Thing is coming, and they will read on, no matter what.<\/p>\n Let the moment be big and full and important.<\/p>\n Just as white space and chapter breaks help give readers space to breathe and take a break, moments when your character is at ease give your story time to rest before picking back up again.<\/p>\n If your character is unwinding after a long, tense day, let the reader unwind right along with her.<\/p>\n Remember, slowing your pace doesn\u2019t mean making your story boring. Let\u2019s take a look at how you can slow things down without losing readers.<\/p>\n Ashley Hope P\u00e9rez successfully slows down her powerful, taut narrative in her Printz Honor-winning novel,\u00a0Out of Darkness<\/em>, which focuses on the forbidden love between a young Mexican woman, Naomi, and a young African American man, Wash.<\/p>\n The first time Wash and Naomi meet at their secret oak tree, this long, detailed paragraph slows the pace down so that we can see and feel what Wash does:<\/p>\n He could feel her warm, sweet breath. His mouth opened, but he couldn\u2019t find any words. He laughed a little, rubbed his chin. He reached up and took her hand in his, the interlacing of their fingers so right, so overdue. He tried to pretend that he wasn\u2019t thinking about falling against her, falling into what he wanted and tried to \u00a0 \u00a0 forget that he wanted, this hunger that was different from other hungers before. He wanted the feel of her lips, her mouth, the sweet hollow of her neck. His muscles tightened with the effort of not taking her braid in his hand. Of not working his way down the row of buttons on her dress. Of not touching her everywhere. (P\u00e9rez 159)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n Even though the paragraph is long and full of what might seem like inconsequential details, it allows us to relish in the moment Naomi and Wash are sharing. It shows us Wash\u2019s delight and his nervousness.<\/p>\n Naomi\u2019s stepfather has made it clear that he doesn\u2019t want her associating with Wash\u2019s family, so they meet in secret, always. And each time, P\u00e9rez slows the pace down, painting each detail with care, so that we can delight in the stolen moments along with Wash and Naomi.<\/p>\n What is your character thinking during an intimate moment? How does she feel about the choice she\u2019s made that will change her life forever?<\/p>\n Let those questions guide you. Write down the observations and thoughts your character is having during the moments that ask for a slower pace, and then choose which ones you\u2019ll actually put into your story.<\/p>\n The thoughts and observations can help both the character and the reader to recap or fully understand what happened in a previous scene, or what\u2019s happening currently.<\/p>\n Toward the end of the Biafran War, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie\u2019s characters, Olanna and Odenigbo, have a grieved yet intimate moment after receiving more news of death. Odenigbo tells Olanna that she is strong, and Ngozi Adichie uses longer sentences to slow down and show us how Olanna feels about this.<\/p>\n These were words she had never heard from him. He looked old; there was a wetness in his eyes, a crumpled defeat in his face, that made him look older. She wanted to ask him why he had said that, what he meant, but she didn\u2019t and she was not sure who fell asleep first. The next morning, she woke up too early, smelling her own bad breath and feeling a sad and unsettling peace. (491)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n Note her longer sentences, combined with her inner thoughts and observations about her conversation with Odenigbo. Readers sense that Olanna thought about his words all the way until she fell asleep, feeling heavy with grief, change, and maybe even a glimmer of hope.<\/p>\n She isn\u2019t sure how to feel, but maybe she doesn\u2019t have to be. What matters is that Ngozi Adichie\u2019s longer sentences, broken into digestible pieces with commas, let us slow down and feel those ambiguous feelings with her.<\/p>\n You can also use linking words \u2014 first, second, third; in addition; next, last, finally \u2014 to keep long paragraphs from becoming too dense. Linking words provide a soft structure for your characters\u2019 thoughts, observations, and detailed descriptions to land.<\/p>\n Knowing how to pace your novel or story is critical to its success. Fast pacing during chapter endings, action scenes, and climaxes will keep your readers glued to the page, while slow pacing during romantic or thoughtful scenes allows them to process what\u2019s happening in your novel.<\/p>\n Both slow and fast pacing are equally important. As the example from my own manuscript\u2019s brush with a publishing house illuminates, sometimes pacing can get\u00a0too<\/em>\u00a0fast. (Or too slow!) That can be a reason for an agent, editor \u2014 and ultimately, a reader \u2014 to put your book down and walk away.<\/p>\n But you don\u2019t have to worry about that, because you now know all the ways to improve your pacing!<\/p>\n It\u2019s time to get your brain into revision mode and get to work.<\/p>\n Berry, Julie.\u00a0All the Truth That\u2019s In Me<\/em>. 2013. New York: Speak-Penguin Group, 2014. Print.<\/p>\n Carpenter, Courtney. \u201c7 Tools For Pacing A Novel & Keeping Your Story Moving At The Right Pace.\u201d\u00a0Writer\u2019s Digest<\/em>, 24 April 2012,\u00a0https:\/\/www.writersdigest.com\/writing-articles\/by-writing-goal\/improve-my-writing\/7-tools-for-pacing-a-novel-keeping-your-story-moving-\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0at-the-right-pace<\/a>. Accessed 3 July 2019.<\/p>\n Chiotti, Danielle, quoting editor at publishing house. Letter to the author. 11 October 2018. TS.<\/p>\n Cron, Lisa. \u201cThe Myth of All-You-Can-Eat Sensory Details.\u201d\u00a0Writing Forward,\u00a0<\/em>28 June 2012,\u00a0http:\/\/www.writingforward.com\/news-announcements\/guest-posts\/the-myth-of-all-you-can-eat-sensory-details<\/a>. Accessed 8 July 2019.<\/p>\n Doerr, Anthony. Interview with Jill Owens of Powell\u2019s Books. \u201cInterview with Anthony Doerr, author of All the Light We Cannot See.\u201d\u00a0A Medium Corporation<\/em>, 16 July 2015,\u00a0https:\/\/medium.com\/@Powells\/interview-with-anthony-doerr-author-of-all-the-light-we-cannot-see-3a3a501ccad2<\/a>. Accessed 8 July 2019.<\/p>\n —.\u00a0All the Light We Cannot See<\/em>. New York: Scribner-Simon & Schuster, 2014. Print.<\/p>\nAn Example of Fast Pace<\/h3>\n
When to Speed Up<\/h2>\n
Action Scenes<\/h3>\n
Climaxes<\/h3>\n
Chapter Endings<\/h3>\n
So How Do You Keep a Story Moving Fast?<\/h2>\n
Keep It Short<\/h3>\n
Short Chapters<\/h4>\n
The One-Sentence Chapter<\/h5>\n
Short Scenes<\/h4>\n
\n
Short Paragraphs<\/h4>\n
Fragments<\/h4>\n
Rapid Dialog Exchange<\/h3>\n
Rapid Action Scenes<\/h3>\n
Active Voice and Aggressive Verbs<\/h3>\n
Add Conflict<\/h3>\n
Ignore Non-Relevant Details<\/h3>\n
Physical Details that Radiate Urgency and Distress<\/h3>\n
Tell Instead of Show<\/h3>\n
Use Foreshadowing<\/h3>\n
Use Cliffhangers<\/h3>\n
When to Slow Down<\/h2>\n
Romantic or Intimate Scenes<\/h3>\n
Developmental Moments<\/h3>\n
When the Reader is Expecting Something to Happen and You Want to Prolong the Moment<\/h3>\n
When Your Character Is at Ease<\/h3>\n
So How Do You Slow Down a Story?<\/h2>\n
Detailed Descriptions<\/h3>\n
Thoughts and Observations<\/h3>\n
Longer Sentences with Commas and Linking Words<\/h3>\n
Conclusion<\/h2>\n
\nWorks Cited<\/h2>\n