Have you ever received a text from a family member or close friend and knew something was wrong even though the words indicated the opposite?
I’ll show you what I mean with a real-life example.
The Kid planned to drive up to deliver ducks to the couple who lives at the top of our mountain, off-the-grid in a year-round camp surrounded by tall pines, oak, birch, and maple trees. By 10 a.m. that morning, we still hadn’t heard from The Kid, which is unusual. He’s always been an early riser.
So, I shot him a text. “Still planning to come up today?”
Several minutes dragged by before he responded. “Yes.”
My intuition tapped me on the shoulder. Something’s wrong. He never responds with one word. Besides, a simple yes didn’t give me enough information. If he brought all three grandkids, I would need to plan to feed six rather than three.
Plus, I let my little fur-babies run around my office during the day, but our grandchildren have a habit of leaving doors open. So, when they visit, it’s safer to leave them in their guinea pig habitat.
I texted back, “The Joe and the chicks coming, too?”
Another long pause. “Just The Joe.”
“You okay? You sound… I dunno… off.”
The Kid knows I’m tuned into him. Over the years I’ve learned to trust my intuition, and it has never failed me. Lying would be pointless.
“I was chasing ducks.”
“Okay, cool,” I texted, but something told me “chasing ducks” wasn’t the full story. Regardless, I didn’t want to push the issue via text. “I get the feeling you won’t be staying long.”
“We can stay for a bit.” The five-minute pause seemed to last twenty. “The longer the better. LOL”
And there it was—the first hint of the real reason he seemed off. Which he’d spill in person. It’s much harder to hide behind a false façade while staring into a concerned parent’s eyes. Though I’d never want to come across as pushy—he is a grown man, after all—I can’t take it when my kid is hurting. I don’t care how old he is. I’ll always be fiercely protective of his beautiful heart.
I do have a point to all this.
With that one simple word—Yes—I, the reader, knew to pay attention. That yes held power. That yes held unlimited power, more powerful than if he’d written an entire paragraph.
Writers should do the same. It’s a simple but effective way to add tension to a scene, cause a disturbance, and cue the reader to pay attention. The one-word, staccato sentence is a tool used for emphasis.
Run. Now.
It’s short and to the point. It calls attention to itself and exploits a reader’s emotions. Varying sentence structure holds a reader’s attention.
The following example looks like an exaggeration, but I once had to critique the first few pages of a novel written just like it.
As he stared at me, I could not look away. As I moved around the room, his stare held me hostage. As he moved closer, I told him to stop. As I backed away, he kept coming.
Every sentence began with “As” for three, never-ending pages. Not only is it grueling and repetitive, it’s annoying to read.
Rewrite:
His wolf-like stare held me hostage. Stop. Please stop. He moved closer. I backed away. Dear God, no. Not again. My spine hit the wall, my fingers searching behind me for the doorframe.
See how much more immediate the second example sounds? We don’t want to overdo it, but nothing can replace a well-placed staccato sentence here and there.
Writers have access to a plethora of writing tips, but it’s important not to overlook simple ways to hone our craft, like the act of reading and sentence structure.
Thoughts? Let’s discuss.
Warriors battle a ruthless animal trafficking ring in Yellowstone. They will protect the sacred lineage of American Buffalo by any means necessary.
Even murder.
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Love tips like this. I keep a list of them, (repetition, foreign language, metaphors, etc) and look to add when going through my edits. Like a chef cooking, tasting, and adding spice to my w.i.p.
Thanks.
My pleasure, Warren. Great analogy!
Wonderful cogent points, Sue! I admire the dramatic effect of staccato sentences at the right moment. They’re a stop sign to the reader that says, “Hey, pay attention. This is important.”
Hope all is well with The Kid. I also have learned to pick up when something is wrong from short texts or emails. 21st century evolution to survive in today’s world.
He’s good, Debbie. Thank you. Just a little turbulence in his life. Nothing love and understanding couldn’t fix. 😉
A stop sign is a great way to describe it! My brain is so fried from the book launch, only this morning did it dawn on me that I’ve written about this before. Oy.
“. . . that I’ve written about this before. Oy.”
All good, Sue! I, at least, need all the reminders and repetition I can get…
Thanks, Deb!
Just one word can carry so much meaning.
I used something similar in my second novel, Dead Man’s Watch. When a man suspected of murder receives a text from the protagonist, Kathryn, he knows immediately that she didn’t send it because the message contains “U” instead of “you.” That tips him off that he’s being set up for an ambush.
I’ve done something similar, Kay. Great minds think alike!
Good morning, Sue. Such a simple, yet very powerful tip that can utterly alter the pacing, and the emotion in a scene. Your revised example is much tenser and propels the reader into what happens next.
I’m a fan of short staccato sentences, at the right moment, they are a narrative force-multiplier.
I spent this past weekend at my first mystery conference, Left Coast Crime 2024, and the final panel I attended, yesterday morning, was on editors and editing.
The editor from Soho Press shared another simple yet powerful tip. When revising, look for the weakest sentence on each page and cut it. Removing single sentence per page and you will tighten your manuscript by 5% or more.
The panel also mentioned Matt Bell’s terrific book “Refuse to Be Done,” which has a few other simple yet power tips.
I viewed the first-quarter moon last night in binoculars and a small telescope for a few minutes before the clouds closed in, but no photos, alas.
Thank you, my friend, for an awesome post that starts my writing day off in fine fashion. Congratulations again on the release of your latest book!
Thanks, Dale. Love the tip about removing one weak sentence per page. Ideally, there shouldn’t be any. 😉
Cloudy here, too, unfortunately. Fingers crossed for clearer skies!
When my grandmother passed away four years ago, I got a text from my mom saying “call me, please.” I knew something was wrong because she never asks me to call, and she writes paragraphs.
I always play with paragraph breaks in my writing. Whatever I want to emphasize, I hit enter so it’s the last thing in the paragraph. And then there’s the single lines. I also have a character in my current WIP who explains nothing, not even to himself, so when writing his POV I have to constantly delete extra words and use short sentences.
Yikes, Azali. I bet that text sent shockwaves through you. “Call me, please” is rarely good news. Sorry for your loss.
Totally agree, Sue. I recently had a potential beta reader who didn’t like my staccato style and wanted it to be “smoother.” Ah, no. Staccato. Get it?
And I’m always on the lookout for too many “As”es. Along with “_ings”s.
Good tip. Happy Monday.
Thanks, Harald. “Smoother” is a ridiculous comment. I’m guessing the beta reader didn’t make the cut. LOL
Happy Monday!
I can’t say I’ve experienced a text like that, but my radar goes up sometimes on the phone. The other person’s voice clues me in that the one word answer, “Fine.” isn’t so fine.
It’s amazing to me that your instinct translated “yes” into “help”.
Thanks for this valuable post, Sue, and all of you TKZers out there with your comments. My MSs can use all the tightening I can twist out of them. 🙂
Agreed, Deb. “Fine” rarely means fine. 😀
Great tip, Sue. Simple and powerful. Of course, anything can be overdone. When a certain fellow named Stallone wrote the novelization of his screenplay Paradise Alley, he did this a lot:
He looked.
Out.
And saw.
Her.
I was amused by a book reviewer who called him out on this style, writing:
It.
Just.
Doesn’t.
Work.
Hahahahahaha! It really doesn’t. Celebs think they can break the rules before they learn them.
I honestly thought for a sec you had made that up. Then I went back and saw “Stallone” which i missed the first time. Thanks for the laugh.
Great post, Sue. Staccato sentences…and what is NOT said. Powerful.
I’m having one of those mornings, a one hour errand that consumed the entire morning. And I’m just now having my coffee. Starting to feel better.
Have a good one!
Excellent point, Steve. What’s not said is often the most powerful.
Oh, boy. Sounds like one of those days. Hope it improves soon!
Texts r a different language, tend to be terser b caus the keypad stinx. Intonation is lost except for a tiny bit that leaks thru.
Someone in a script class told me: a character should never answer yes or no to a question. That stops the conversation, ends the conflict’s progress.
Excellent tip, J. Yes or no does end the conversation unless there’s a but afterward. 🤗