Using Beats in Prose

I first came across the word 'beat' a million years ago when I was training to be an actor.  It's used to describe a pause - literally the time taken to say the word beat - in dialogue.  What it does is allow thinking time.  

If a character's dialogue is: 

'I love porridge. Aunt Alice sent us a postcard - did you see it?' 

then there has to be a pause or beat between the two sentences:  

'I love porridge.' (BEAT) 'Aunt Alice sent us a postcard - did you see it?'

because there is a change of direction in the character's thinking from the first sentence to the second, from porridge to the postcard.

On stage the actor would pause or perform some action between the two sentences.  When you got your script for the first time you'd go through marking the beats, working out what the thinking was behind the words. (I acted in a Pinter play once and we spent some time working out how many beats there were to stage directions such as pause (2 beats), long pause (4 beats), brief silence (6 beats) etc.)

That's in acting.  The word beat is used in film scripts, but it's used in the same way - to indicate a pause in dialogue.  And from film the word beat has come into prose to describe the spaces between dialogue.  But in prose we can't hear the characters pause, so we have to write something...

'I love porridge.' She wiped the table down. 'Aunt Alice sent us a postcard - did you see it?'

'I love porridge.' She looked up as the letterbox rattled. 'Aunt Alice sent us a postcard - did you see it?'

'I love porridge.' A mouse ran along the edge of the skirting board. 'Aunt Alice sent us a postcard - did you see it?'

Every time your character changes direction in their thoughts there should be a beat, unless you want to indicate a character whose thoughts just rattle through their head - for example, Miss Bates' long speeches in Jane Austen's Emma.

Getting the Beat 2

So I'm talking about beats and the rhythms of writing and yesterday I took an extract from A Single to Rome and added exactly two actions or thoughts to the basic dialogue. The result was monotony. This is I actually wrote.

'So, what did you think?' Kimberley said as they walked back to the car. 'Did you meet the man of your dreams?'

'You know Michael wasn't there,' Natalie said.

Kimberley made a tsk noise. 'I quite liked a few of them. They weren't all bad.'

'Which ones did you like?' Natalie didn't think there'd been anyone who could raise a spark of interest in her. But that was unfair: all her interest was directed at Michael.

'Toby, he was nice, and Jerry. And Guy, and that one with the big hands, I think he was David - I got a bit confused in the second half.'

Natalie checked her card as she tried to remember. David, David, David... 'Was he the shaggy one? No! Didn't you think he was a bit scruffy?' She wanted to say slobbery.

'I quite like that - I don't want them too prissy. And you know what they say about men with big hands.' Kimberley raised her eyebrows at Natalie, who laughed.

'But is it true?'

'Only one way to find out.'

Just looking at it on the page it looks better. The speeches are broken up, and there are several which have no attributions, no actions, no thoughts.

Attrib. Action.

Attrib.

Action.

Thought. Thought. Thought.

-

Action. Thought. Thought.

Action. Action.

-

-

It's a pretty random pattern, and is all the better for it. We need to know what the characters are doing and thinking, but if we get everything it's relentless, a bit like sitting next to some twit at the cinema who feels the need to give a running commentary on the film. The bits of dialogue without any attributions, or beats are like breathing spaces in the prose.

They also speed up the pace. Immediately after this passage comes a longish paragraph of Natalie's interior thoughts which slows the pace down again. Fast, slow, fast, slow - readers want the variety or they get bored. Most writers - all? - read out their work either as they're writing or editing, or both. They can hear the rhythm of the beats and instinctively are looking for variety. Listen to the rhythms of your writing. Listen to your beats.

At last! I've got my finger out and have committed to running some day courses:

Writing a Novel - 31st July in Bath and 18th September in Truro

Getting a Novel Published - 1st August in Bath and 19th September in Truro

Contact me on sarah@sarahduncan.co.uk for more info...

Getting the Beat 1

The bits that come between the actual speeches in a dialogue section are technically called beats, though I more often refer to them as inbetweeny bits. They take the form of either an action or a thought/emotion - he said, putting his teacup down/she said, thinking he was so boring.

Here's a scene excerpt from A Single to Rome, with the beats taken out. Kimberley and Natalie have just been to a speed-dating evening. Natalie is getting over the breakup of her relationship with Michael.

K: So, what did you think? Did you meet the man of your dreams?

N: You know Michael wasn't there.

K: I quite liked a few of them. They weren't all bad.

N: Which ones did you like?

K: Toby, he was nice, and Jerry. And Guy, and that one with the big hands, I think he was David - I got a bit confused in the second half.

N: Was he the shaggy one? No! Didn't you think he was a bit scruffy?

K: I quite like that - I don't want them too prissy. And you know what they say about men with big hands.

N: But is it true?

K: Only one way to find out.

Try putting exactly two beats for each bit of dialogue. It could be two actions or two thoughts or one action/one thought. (Dialogue attributions don't count.) You might end up with something like this...

'So, what did you think? Did you meet the man of your dreams?' Kimberley said as they walked back to the car, high heels clicking on the pavement.

'You know Michael wasn't there.' Natalie pressed her fingers against her temples. Just her luck to get a splitting headache.

Kimberley glanced over to her. 'I quite liked a few of them. They weren't all bad.' She jiggled her car keys.

Natalie felt a pang of envy. Kimberley was always so positive, sometimes it was hard to like her. 'Which ones did you like?'

Kimberley put her head to one side and narrowed her eyes as if considering her options. 'Toby, he was nice, and Jerry. And Guy, and that one with the big hands, I think he was David - I got a bit confused in the second half.'

Natalie tried to think who she meant. A succession of men merged into one. 'Was he the shaggy one? No! Didn't you think he was a bit scruffy?

'I quite like that - I don't want them too prissy.' Kimberley giggled, and leant across to whisper in Natalie's ear. 'And you know what they say about men with big hands.

Natalie giggled too. She heard people say that many times before. 'But is it true?'

Kimberley raised her eyebrows and swung her car keys around on one finger. 'Only one way to find out.'

That's so dull to read. f you try reading it aloud, you can hear that the rhythm is all wrong, it's like a toddler banging a spoon on a saucepan, on and on and on. It's monotonous. It even looks monotonous on the page, each line roughly the same, lots of short paragraphs after each other. And, while I'm not making any claims to write high literature, this does come across as exceptionally trite. I'll look at what I actually wrote for this scene, and why, tomorrow.

At last! I've got my finger out and have committed to running some day courses:

Writing a Novel - 31st July in Bath and 18th September in Truro

Getting a Novel Published - 1st August in Bath and 19th September in Truro

Contact me on sarah@sarahduncan.co.uk for more info...