Finishing up a novel this week, I went back and read through it one last time before sending the manuscript on to my agent. This one wrote itself fast, and I was confident there were few issues to deal with in post.
Ummm hummm.
The entire novel takes place in 24 hours, and as usual for me, contains many moving parts and a lot more characters than I expected. The Bride read it at the same time and we compared notes to find there were a couple of continuity issues.
Those were cured by simply deleting specific references in dialogue. I talked by my protagonist Ridge about that. “Ridge, in Chapter 15, you were on the far end of the street how long ago?”
“I said twenty minutes when I was talking to Zeke.”
“At the same time you were talking with the antagonist at the opposite end of town, and then got in a fight.”
Ridge paused, considering our dilemma. “Dang it. How’re we gonna fix that?”
“Don’t make any more specific references to time and we can smooth this one over. I’ll move that scene and it all should mesh.”
“Good,” Ridge glanced over his shoulder. “Now, can I get back to trying to avoid those people who’re chasing me?”
“Go on, we’re good now, but I still have to do something about Chapter 22.”
That one was the real problem, because when I went back and read Chapter 22, it contained brilliant dialogue and an excellent sense of place but did nothing to move the story forward.
It was a rookie mistake, and I am ashamed.
Chapters might be hard for some folks, but I’ve never given them much thought.
I don’t consciously think about how long they are, but after going back and re-reading my work, I find the first two or three are somewhat short, establishing scenes and characters, and setting the tempo.
They become longer as the story arcs develop, and then in the third act, as the climax nears, they grow progressively shorter, adding to the quickening pace of the action. They end when they should, sometimes with cliffhangers, or times after a character says something thoughtful, or foreshadowing.
But what does a chapter do? The Chicago Manual of Style Shop Talk says. “A chapter accomplishes something. It might develop a character, or a relationship between characters; it might build a world or set a scene, it might tell a shorter story that moves the larger story forward.”
But it has to do something.
This is where some authors dig in their heels. “I liked that chapter. The dialogue was great and the interaction between the two characters just makes me feel all sparkly and now I need a tasty beverage.”
Okay. Finish your drink and then delete the chapter. If you can’t bring yourself to send it to the electronic netherworld, cut and paste it into a blank document somewhere and when you read the manuscript again, you’ll find it wasn’t the least bit necessary.
I just finished a book by a well-known and respected author, the sequel to one of his most popular novels. It seemed to have been written by committee, and a third of the chapters failed to carry the story forward. Instead, the protagonist thought, considered, wandered from place to place, ate (and it sometimes felt as if I was reading a menu), drank, and slept. In fact, had he taken out those static chapters, he would have finished with a novella.
If you still can’t part with all the offending chapter, consider pulling some of the dialogue and plugging it in somewhere else (note I said “some” of the dialogue).
In any case, there are no rules for what’s found in a chapter. Use them to set the pace, move the action forward, advance conflict, reveal information or twists, and increase tension. Think of it as a mini story that takes us forward.
Your readers will love you for it.
Good on ya, Rev, for spotting a darling that needed killing and dispatching it. Our words become precious, too precious sometimes.
Took me a long time to realize I can always write more words, ones that do the job they’re supposed to do, and delete the pretty ones that have no purpose.
Good points, Rev. I’m currently working on a novel set against a recent Danube River cruise, based loosely on my experiences on my trip last December. It’s a struggle to avoid turning it into a travelogue as I want to share some of the experiences I had. Interesting, yes. Moving the story along? Not so much.
“In fact, had he taken out those static chapters, he would have finished with a novella.”
This is a good reminder to keep handy while you’re writing/revising.
I keep a piece of paper on my desk where I list at least three things I need to do in my next chapter or scene. They should be character and plot information. This keeps me on point so I don’t wander off and admire the pretty words I’m using. A thought I always keep at the end of the chapter is that this isn’t an ending, it’s a burst of reader adrenaline about what is happening next. No early bedtime for them. Mwa ha ha ha ha!
Great reminder, Rev. Sometimes we can get caught up in our own “brilliance” and forget who we’re supposed to be writing for.
Dispatch those darlings!
It’s a rough but necessary business, I agree.
And yet, I still believe that there’s a fine balance to be walked with this in mind.
I read part of an urban fantasy series once that, in addition to ending up in the DNF pile, also narrowly escaped being thrown at a wall.
The MC …
Never …
Stopped.
It was exhausting.
This isn’t what Marilynn was referring to. I love the idea of keeping a To Do List handy for chapters. Brilliant!
This urban fantasy series was the difference between a fine classic B&W movie and a Michael Bey action flick. (If you don’t know that director, just think “Gratuitous Explosions!”)
The character had plenty of action, interaction, and, if a scene desperately required it, maybe stopped to eat now and then.
But otherwise, she was constantly on the move: getting into scapes or an argument, or being knocked out, slapped awake, escaping in a scramble…ever on the move.
What interaction did happen between characters always seemed like the dramatic high note of a telenova.
Most (admittedly, not all) readers do enjoy the lulls of simple character interaction. Not just in romance, either. And, while that’s very different from a character aimlessly eating, walking, or ruminating, it can’t always be on point. (Or is that “on the beat” for better writerly lingo? Heh)
I suppose the interaction itself is the meangingful part? It’s what makes your readers feel more strongly in whatever manner you intend them to feel about the characters. If the interaction didn’t make them feel anything at all, then you’d have a problem!
Anyway, thanks for listening to me aimlessly ruminate on the whole idea. Ha ha!