While in the middle of edits for my upcoming novel scheduled for release in October, 2025, the development editor we’ll call Francis (because I just heard that name on the television) had several questions about how and why I break chapters the way I do. He also wondered about the placement of character viewpoint breaks within a chapter, and had several suggestions about both. I have to admit, I ignored them after explaining why.
Considering those questions, I started wondering about freshmen authors, who tend to overthink everything and find they, too, are unsure when to break chapters. I’m afraid you’ll see the word “chapter” wayyyy to many times in this post.
The truth is, for me, these breaks come naturally both between chapters and character viewpoints. I don’t consciously say to myself, “Self, I think I’ll stretch this action scene for a few more pages, and wrap things up with a little witty banter before moving on to a different scene.”
If you dig around in books on writing, or the internet, you’ll likely see where a chapter break accentuates a change of place, point of view, or plot. The new chapter tells us we’re in a different place in the novel and the stage has been reset to advance the story.
It also gives the reader a break, kinda like a commercial on television, so we can go make a sammich without missing anything, risk becoming disoriented about the plot after we put the book down to feed the dog or get a grandchild off the roof before they fall into the pool like last time.
Our attention spans are getting shorter, and I like to blame the internet and social media, because social media should be blamed for most of life’s problems, and of course the internet is just a place to noodle around between repeated news stories and Best Of lists.
But there’s this thing called pacing that has to be considered, and it’s all tied up with the chapter above.
We can’t simply cut off a conversation in the middle of a sentence or thought, or can we?
Carlton the Doorman points at two men in blue seersucker suits. “I know you’re both innocent of fashion murder, and it was only by chance you put on these matching suits this morning…or is it?”
His eyes drifted to the body stuffed behind the palm tree, and wondered why the interior decorator decided to use a Queen Palm, instead of a Date Palm. It was all so mysterious, just like those two men who were comparing pocket squares.
Now we have a cliffhanger, and the reader starts the next chapter, which is a shift in plot or viewpoint.
Dammit! I wanted to know how those two put on such garish suits, and now we have a renegade interior decorator to deal with, but the author wants me to read about Elizabeth and her challenges in digging through a file cabinet full of incriminating evidence on the third floor.
So now that chapter plods along, and it’s essential to the plot, but does it have to so long?
My development editor might think so. Maybe he wants it to be a shift in viewpoint within the chapter. It could have worked, I guess, but I like a fresh start and broke both chapters at those specific spots to build tension and anticipation for the next one. It also ends the scene, because I’m tired of writing about it and want to move back to the Seersucker Twins after finishing with the antagonist’s viewpoint.
The truth is, my chapters are long enough to play out the scene without putting in stuff people don’t want to read and will skip ahead. Be they short or long, I break at a point that feels natural.
“Sonny Hawke found himself in an aloha shirt on the Mexican side of the Rio Grande without a gun or badge, and wondered if anyone would take him for a Texas Ranger . Maybe there was a way to play this out before the cartel leader figured out that not all Rangers look alike.”
There we have a break, making the reader wonder the same thing and anticipate the next time Sonny appears.
Then I’ve had copy editors ask why my chapters in the third act are substantially shorter. By the time we’re racing toward the end, chapters are even shorter. Why? Because it subconsciously builds tension. There are times they’re only a page or two, but those quick breaks make readers feel like they’re on a rapidly descending roller coaster.
This is also a technique to keep tired or sleepy readers engaged. We want them to sprint toward the end.
“It’s nearly midnight, but this book is moving right along.” Sleepy Reader flips a couple of pages. “Wow, these are short. I can read another.”
We imagine the reader propped on pillows while a spouse snores quietly. “I’ll turn off the light in a second, but dang this chapter is brief, too. I feel like I’m on a roller coaster and this thing is moving fast. This is like eating potato chips. I can have another, and another. I can finish the book tonight and it won’t be too late when I’m finished.”
The truth is, I’ve heard this from more than one fan, who tells me they slogged through the next day because they stayed up past one in the morning, because they had to finish the book, and it was a good read.
Don’t be concerned about word or page counts, just end the chapter at a natural break. You’ll find them easy enough.
My critique partners will jump on ho-hum chapter breaks. Like you said, we don’t want to give readers the excuse to put the book down. When I wrote my first novel, every chapter ended with someone driving away or going to sleep. I found backing up a couple of paragraphs was usually a much better place to stop.
Sometimes chapter length/pacing comes naturally while drafting, other times I have to look at it when editing. I guess this kind’ve goes back to that old adage about enter late/leave early.
A chapter or scene break may offer some answers and finish an action, but it should offer even more questions that the reader absolutely must find out as well as upping the interest in the story’s biggest questions.
Example: So, Jim didn’t kill Alex although he confessed, but why? Who is he protecting? Why do people keep mentioning smelling smoke near the murder scene? And, most emotionally important, who stole Mary’s baby, and is it alive?
(No sleep for you, tonight, dear reader. Evil laugh. Evil laugh).
I create every detail – number of chapters, number of scenes in various chapters, pov in those scenes (which alternate irregularly, according to the story, among the three main characters) – before even starting the writing.
Because then I can see what I’m doing as a whole.
And yes, in the middle book of my trilogy, the last few chapters were shorter (three scenes each instead of the more common five or six), and designed to read more quickly to get to the climax of the middle book (no sagging allowed).
But I like knowing how the pace will be at all points in the book, because I have a list of what needs to go in, and I control the presentation for the maximum effect I can make on the reader.
I KNOW the story, beginning to end. And I’m going to tell it to you MY way, with chapter and scene breaks, pov shifts, and all the rest, planned.
My first books (unpublished as of yet) were mysteries – I learned how I would do them – and pace is critical. Reader sleep breaks are not – they might not come back!