Slow, Slow, Quick, Quick, Slow?

Down on Porthmeor Beach in St Ives last weekend the surfers were struggling to catch the waves. They were small and irregular - the surf was elsewhere. When the surf is good the surfers paddle their boards way out into the bay and wait to catch a wave. The really good surfers ride the wave for a while then drop back off it just before it breaks, so they don't get either caught up in the surf or washed far onto the beach - it's a long struggle through the waves to get out to the point where you started from.

It's beautiful to watch the good surfers. They have a rhythm and fluidity in the way they ride the waves. Short stories can read like a series of waves coming into the shore, each wave starting small then building up into a crescendo. A good short story will have a series of those waves running throughout the narrative, each wave separated rather than crashing into each other all in one whoosh, then leaving the surfer stranded without impetus.

It can be summarised in one word: pace.

You need the slow build up, then the crescendo - a moment of drama or tension. Then another slow build up, then another moment of tension, and so on. Sometimes the crescendos might be close together, sometimes further apart - you don't want the rhythm to be too regular or it'll become predictable. But that's the basic principle: slow build up; moment of drama; slow build up; moment of drama etc. Or, slow, slow, quick! quick! slow.

But - and this is where it gets complicated - you want the drama to be part of the slow bit. Imagine your character is going to open a box that may (or may not) contain a poisonous snake. They would slowly approach the box. They might listen for hissing. They might try the weight of the box. They might put on gloves. They might slide their hands over the box. They might imagine what will happen when they open the box and the snake flies out...

All this is slowly building up to the moment of drama when - quick! quick! the lid of the box flips open and the character sees: nothing. Tension drops, and we're back to slow, slow again.

What it isn't is slow, slow as we hear about the character's bus ride into town and how rude the conductor was to them because they didn't have the right change, and then they trod in a puddle on the way to the office, and the receptionist blathered on about what they'd done that weekend, and then they got to their office, scanned the threatening letter attached to the box and quickly flipped open the lid to discover a king cobra. Which bit them.

For the surfers, choosing the wave to ride is part of the skill. Choosing where to go slow and where to go fast is part of the skill of being a writer.

Cherry Cake Pacing

On the few occasions I’ve made a cherry cake I’ve carefully followed all the instructions, stirred in my glace cherries (full of E numbers, but stickily delicious), carefully spooned the mixture into the cake tin, then popped it in the oven. Half an hour or so later the cake is ready. Then the first slice…and all the cherries have ended up in one glutinous lump at the bottom. It’s a bit like pacing a novel. The best scenes – the cherries – need to be distributed evenly throughout. The easiest way to check your novel for pacing is to use index cards, one scene per card. 

Start with a big table or a clear floor. Draw a few imaginary lines, one for normal, one for exciting, one for incredibly dramatic. Now lay the cards out scene by scene, according to where you think they are on the scale (depending on your novel, the scale may be normal: scary: scariest, or normal: emotional: tempestuous, etc). When you done the lot, step back. Ideally the novel should follow the line of a series of hills and valleys, with the hills getting higher as the novel reaches The End. Of course, not every novel follows this plan – The Lovely Bones is one best-selling exception – but it’s a good one to aim for. 

It’s about pace: readers need the contrast in fast and slow, between the heights and the depths, with the ordinary stuff connecting the best scenes like cake mix. If your cherries are clumped into a sticky mess, then spread them out. In cake making the answer is to dredge the cherries with flour before dropping them into the mix. For novels, the answer is some dismantling and rearranging. I love this bit. The hard slog of the first draft is over, and now it’s like cooking: necessity, pleasure and craft are all mixed up together and the result is…mmmmm.

(Another one from the archives...)

Chapter Ends

I'll let you into a secret: I'm a bit obsessed by chapter ends. It's one of those little corners that seem to be left out of books on writing, but it's an important area for a writer to master. Think about it. Most people read late at night. They want to read a chapter before turning the light out. Your job is to get them to read another chapter, and another. And another, all the way until The End.

Watch soaps for masterclasses in how to get people tuning in the next day. There's always a sudden revelation, a question that must be answered or a dramatic situation to be resolved. When writing we might choose to be more subtle about it, but essentially the trick is the same. Make the reader read 'just a little bit' of the next chapter, and you've got them hooked.

Some writers do this naturally. JK Rowling is a good example, as I discovered when I read the first Harry Potter books aloud to my children. The chapters are long and it's hard to find a natural point at which to stop. Unless you want to read for an hour you end up breaking in the middle of paragraphs. Small wonder she gets kids reading; the books are compulsive page turners because there are no places to stop.

The worst thing is to end the chapter with them all going to bed and zzzzz-ing away - you might as well write 'put this book down now'. The exception is when you're writing a picture book, when parents are reading hoping their children will drop off at the end of it. So, if you want to write a page turner, pay attention to your chapter ends. Keep them reading.

My next event will be speaking at Corsham Library, Wiltshire with fellow New Romantics Lucy Diamond and Veronica Henry 3rd June at 7.30pm. Come and join us!

Cherry Cake Pacing

On the few occasions I’ve made a cherry cake I’ve carefully followed all the instructions, stirred in my glace cherries (full of E numbers, but stickily delicious), carefully spooned the mixture into the cake tin, then popped it in the oven. Half an hour or so later the cake is ready. Then the first slice…and all the cherries have ended up in one glutinous lump at the bottom. It’s a bit like pacing a novel. The best scenes – the cherries – need to be distributed evenly throughout. The easiest way to check your novel for pacing is to use index cards, one scene per card.

Start with a big table or a clear floor. Draw a few imaginary lines, one for normal, one for exciting, one for incredibly dramatic. Now lay the cards out scene by scene, according to where you think they are on the scale (depending on your novel, the scale may be normal: scary: scariest, or normal: emotional: tempestuous, etc). When you done the lot, step back. Ideally the novel should follow the line of a series of hills and valleys, with the hills getting higher as the novel reaches The End. Of course, not every novel follows this plan – The Lovely Bones is one best-selling exception – but it’s a good one to aim for.

It’s about pace: readers need the contrast in fast and slow, between the heights and the depths, with the ordinary stuff connecting the best scenes like cake mix. If your cherries are clumped into a sticky mess, then spread them out. In cake making the answer is to dredge the cherries with flour before dropping them into the mix. For novels, the answer is some dismantling and rearranging. I love this bit. The hard slog of the first draft is over, and now it’s like cooking: necessity, pleasure and craft are all mixed up together and the result is…mmmmm.

My next event will be speaking at Corsham Library, Wiltshire with fellow New Romantics Lucy Diamond and Veronica Henry 3rd June at 7.30pm. Come and join us!

Revenge of the Killer Rabbit

An exercise for the weekend...

Think of a small but memorable incident that has happened to you, perhaps in your childhood. If I was doing this exercise I'd write about the rabbit that ran into our garage when I was about eight, and how we ended up adopting it, but it bullied everyone - the cat ran away, the hamster died, and it wouldn't let us watch television - so my father decided The Rabbit Had To Go...

Now tear up some pieces of paper - A4 to four pieces perhaps - or you could use index cards or sheets from a notebook. You want to end up with about 16 or bits. Write out the story using one, perhaps two sentences per bit. So my story would go something like...

Piece 1 - My brother said there was a rabbit in our garage

Piece 2 - My mother caught it

Piece 3 - No one knew whose it was, so we adopted the rabbit

If you need more bits of paper it doesn't matter, if it fits onto only 8 pieces, then that's fine too. When you've done that, go back and add some details, some descriptions of people or places. If you run out of room, re-write on a new bit of paper Try to add some details that fix it in time and space so...

I was on the sofa watching Crackerjack when my little brother came in and said there was a rabbit in our garage.

Crackerjack sets it in the 60s/70s (and for those who remember, specifically: it's Friday, it's Five to Five and it's......Crackerjack!).

Done that? Now, look for places where you can add some direct speech.

'Quick, quick, come quickly!' my little brother said, rushing into the room. I looked up from the sofa where I'd been curled up watching Crackerjack to see him hopping from one knobbly knee'd leg to the other. 'There's a rabbit in our garage!'

When you've done all that, write it out as a continuous piece of prose.

When we write we normally think of the details and let the story take care of itself. This exercise pushes you to making the story move forward, because the initial stage is about nothing but the essential story line. So we start with the forward movement of the story, and the details get added as required, and then finally the dialogue comes. What you should end up with is a great little story with some sparkling detail, lively dialogue and a cracking pace.

10 Ways to Make Your Work Exceptional

1. Page one needs to have something extra, something that will make the reader want to read on. It could be a plot hook or an intriguing premise, an appealing setting or fabulous writing. Whatever it is, make sure it's there.

2. And you need the same on page 2, 3, 4, 5....I see a fair amount of student work that is perfectly fine, just doesn't have that extra pzazz. Look for opportunities where you could add it. It may sound OTT but I go through my mss with a highlighter pen marking bits (phrases, metaphors, nifty dialogue, cunning transitions, description etc) I think add something extra. My minimum is 5 per page.

3. I also see a lot of student work that lacks edge or tension. Don't let things come easily to your characters, make them work for it. And don't let things come easily to the readers either. Only give readers information at the very last moment they need it. Keep 'em guessing, keep 'em waiting.

4. Characters without flaws are dull. Characters who complain are tedious. Characters who are nice are zzzzzzz.

5. All stories have been done before, it's how you write them that counts. Above all, keep them moving forwards, don't let them sag especially round the middle.

6. Pace. It's the contrast that makes it interesting. All fast pace is as dull as motorway driving especially compared with driving at 30mph on a housing estate with lots of free range children. Go fast, go slow, go fast again. Don't let the reader ever feel secure with your pacing.

7. You're probably bored with this one, but make sure your work is 100% mistake free. Check all spellings, grammar, sentence structure esp if you've done a lot of editing.

8. Also boring but essential, make sure the presentation is perfect.

9. Story, story, story. Beautiful writing is lovely to read, but without story telling it gets dull very quickly. What's going to happen next? How is this going to be resolved?

10. Confidence. This is a hard one to define, but it's the quality that makes you utterly believe that the author is in charge and knows exactly what's happening, how it's going to turn out. As a reader you happily let go and hand it over to the story teller to take you on a magical experience. I think confidence comes from re-writing and re-writing. If you don't believe, how can you expect anyone else to?

Chapter Ends

I'll let you into a secret: I'm a bit obsessed by chapter ends. It's one of those little corners that seem to be left out of books on writing, but it's an important area for a writer to master. Think about it. Most people read late at night. They want to read a chapter before turning the light out. Your job is to get them to read another chapter, and another. And another, all the way until The End.

Watch soaps for masterclasses in how to get people tuning in the next day. There's always a sudden revelation, a question that must be answered or a dramatic situation to be resolved. When writing we might choose to be more subtle about it, but essentially the trick is the same. Make the reader read 'just a little bit' of the next chapter, and you've got them hooked.

Some writers do this naturally. JK Rowling is a good example, as I discovered when I read the first Harry Potter books aloud to my children. The chapters are long and it's hard to find a natural point at which to stop. Unless you want to read for an hour you end up breaking in the middle of paragraphs. Small wonder she gets kids reading; the books are compulsive page turners because there are no places to stop.

The worst thing is to end the chapter with them all going to bed and zzzzz-ing away - you might as well write 'put this book down now'. The exception is when you're writing a picture book, when parents are reading hoping their children will drop off at the end of it. So, if you want to write a page turner, pay attention to your chapter ends. Keep them reading.

Flashback - Work of the Devil

I am on a one-woman campaign to eliminate flashback from writing. I don't understand the when it usually makes writing soggy and dull. Don't do it! Writing is partly about controlling pace. Action and dialogue speed it up, reflection and description slow it down. Flashback stops the novel dead in its tracks, like forcing a speeding car into reverse. Why? Because it's already happened. When you read you want to know what's going to happen next. With a flashback you know. Think how many stories have an underlying Will they, won't they? premise. If you use flashback, you've lost it.

I recently workshopped a student piece. It opened with a scene of the main character on her way somewhere, then went into flashback for the rest of the chapter going over the previous 24 hours. It was well written, but the tension was lost - we already knew the character was going to get in the car and head off for her destination, because the writer had said so at the beginning. It's like telling the punchline before you do the rest of the joke. It doesn't work.

Worse are those flashbacks where the character settles down to have a jolly good reminiscence like some great-uncle at Christmas beginning with 'I remember those lovely holidays we used to have at Gran's...' For some reason, they're often inspired by train journeys and as the character drops off into a dream of times past, so do we.

Of course there are exceptions. Donna Tartt's The Secret History gains a lot of tension because we know from the start that a main character is going to be murdered by one of the others. But we don't know who murders whom until the end. Anita Shreeve's The Pilot's Wife uses flashback to unravel the story, but each flashback section advances the plot with information the reader didn't know until that moment. So flashback can work, but the chances are more likely that they're losing tension and pace. Don't do it!

Cherry Cake Pacing

On the few occasions I’ve made a cherry cake I’ve carefully followed all the instructions, stirred in my glace cherries (full of E numbers, but stickily delicious), carefully spooned the mixture into the cake tin, then popped it in the oven. Half an hour or so later the cake is ready. Then the first slice…and all the cherries have ended up in one glutinous lump at the bottom. It’s a bit like pacing a novel. The best scenes – the cherries – need to be distributed evenly throughout. The easiest way to check your novel for pacing is to use index cards, one scene per card.

Start with a big table or a clear floor. Draw a few imaginary lines, one for normal, one for exciting, one for incredibly dramatic. Now lay the cards out scene by scene, according to where you think they are on the scale (depending on your novel, the scale may be normal: scary: scariest, or normal: emotional: tempestuous, etc). When you done the lot, step back. Ideally the novel should follow the line of a series of hills and valleys, with the hills getting higher as the novel reaches The End. Of course, not every novel follows this plan – The Lovely Bones is one best-selling exception – but it’s a good one to aim for.

It’s about pace: readers need the contrast in fast and slow, between the heights and the depths, with the ordinary stuff connecting the best scenes like cake mix. If your cherries are clumped into a sticky mess, then spread them out. In cake making the answer is to dredge the cherries with flour before dropping them into the mix. For novels, the answer is some dismantling and rearranging. I love this bit. The hard slog of the first draft is over, and now it’s like cooking: necessity, pleasure and craft are all mixed up together and the result is…mmmmm.