By John Gilstrap

By way of full disclosure, I don’t often participate in our First Page Critique program. It’s not that I don’t think there’s value in it, but rather that I don’t think I’m particularly qualified to critique the work of others. As I’ve mentioned here about a bazillion times, I am entirely self-taught. By sheer trial and error, I’ve learned what works for me, and what irks me about the works of others. The problem is that I am often irked by some of the bestselling authors on the planet, which brings me back to what the hell do I know? And who am I to presume to tell others what to do?

On the rare occasions when I do pick up a sample for a first page critique, it’s because I think the work has a lot of potential, and it falls within areas of my expertise where I know I can provide some wisdom that goes beyond the mechanics of writing. Today’s sample of Smooth Operator, by Courageous Author Unknown, is just such an example. (Note to said author: if you email john@johngilstrap.com, I’ll send you the complete marked-up manuscript.)

Here we go. First the original manuscript in bold font, with my comments on the back end:

Smooth Operator

Chapter 1

“Give yourself up, Ma’am,” the agent shouted. “There is no way out. It’s your only choice.”

Madam Chiang hunkered low against the grey BMW, still clutching the empty Beretta in her perfectly manicured hands.

Oh please. You sound like some B-grade cop movie.

“You only have one option,” the agent shouted again. “Give up now and I won’t shoot. Back-up’s on the way.”

Ah, rookies. It’s Sunday evening. Any back-up is still twenty miles away. And, of course I have options. I always have options. She just hadn’t thought of one yet.

But, in that exchange, Madam Chiang had gained two valuable pieces of information. First, she knew the agent had no idea who she was pursuing, because she had been addressed as ma’am. Likely, the agent only assumed she was a threat because she had just witnessed Madam Chiang blow her friend to oblivion. Not an altogether bad assumption.

Second, the agent was most likely not even on duty. Her tight dress and heels said she wasn’t here for work. Probably only stopped by the office on her way to a party. Whatever the reason, it must have been dumb luck that the agent saw her at all.

Moments ago, Madam Chiang had been inside the federal building rushing toward her prearranged exit, clutching the recovered evidence against her chest. She had just spotted her door when a chime announced the elevator’s arrival. Startled, she turned toward the sound. Two women stepped half way out before glimpsing Madam Chiang. All three froze simultaneously. Madam Chiang noticed their eyes widen as they spotted the pistol in her hand. Were they just harmless visitors or a threat?

That question was quickly resolved when one of the women popped open her clutch and pulled out her own pistol. Madam Chiang leveled the Beretta and squeezed off two rounds. Her first hollow-point hit its mark, entering the body just below the unarmed girl’s armpit, continuing on to obliterate her heart and lungs. The force slammed her body into a wall before folding to the floor in a crumpled heap. The second slug missed its mark.

The surviving agent jerked back inside the elevator firing an errant shot as she did. A split-second later, Madam Chiang fired one final shot toward the open elevator and sprinted toward her exit, charging toward cover in an adjacent parking structure.

It’s Gilstrap again. Pretty good stuff overall, don’t you think? The piece certainly starts on action. We get some good hints of attitude in the narration surrounding Madam Chiang. To be sure, she’s not a lady I want to cross when she’s cranky. Let’s stipulate that Courageous Unknown Author knows what s/he’s doing, and that this snippet earns a solid B. Now let’s get to the business of making a good thing even better:

“Give yourself up, Ma’am,” the agent shouted. “There is no way out. It’s your only choice.”

Given what we learn later–that our POV character has killed the agent’s friend–this dialogue prints as way too polite to me. “Show yourself or I will effing kill you!” (or something along those lines, depending on your market) seems way more appropriate. Also, where is the agent relative to our character? Shouldn’t our character be worried about the agent moving for position, especially since her weapon is dry?

Madam Chiang hunkered low against the grey BMW, still clutching the empty Beretta in her perfectly manicured hands.

There are dozens of models of Berettas, but one thing they all have in common is the fact if the magazine is empty, there’s been a hell of a gunfight. I don’t buy that a) she’d be noticing her manicure, or b) that she wouldn’t have broken a nail or gotten them dirty in a running gunfight. The gunshot residue alone would have dirtied her hands.

Also–and this is one of my proprietary irks–please name your characters, especially for close in 3rd POV. First of all, Madam Chiang reads to me as someone who runs a brothel. Later, as the action picks up, you seem to realize that the name is awkward, and resort instead into battling pronouns.

Oh please. You sound like some B-grade cop movie.

Attach this to the end of the paragraph above. That way, it’s easier to know whose thoughts we’re reading. As for the substance of the thought, I was thinking the same thing, but not in a good way.

“You only have one option,” the agent shouted again. “Give up now and I won’t shoot. Back-up’s on the way.”

Let’s think about this. I’m the agent and you’re the bad guy that I’ve got dead to rights on a murder charge. Why would I think for a minute that you would give yourself up after a gunfight? Why would I be marking my position with my voice so you would know where I am–especially since I’m alone? In this circumstance, if I knew where you were, I’d be advancing on your position as silently as I could to take you out. If I didn’t know where you were, I’d take cover somewhere and not make a sound while I waited for you to make a move and show yourself. If you were a professional–and that seems to be what you’re making Madam Chiang out to be–you would know all of this and you’d be plotting accordingly.

Ah, rookies. It’s Sunday evening. Any back-up is still twenty miles away. And, of course I have options. I always have options. She just hadn’t thought of one yet.

Proprietary irk #2: I hate long passages of quoted thought, because that’s not really how we think. At least, that’s not how I think. If this were my story, I would initiate the thought with italics, and then move on with close-in 3rd person narration. Like this:

Ah, rookies. It was Sunday evening, any backup was still twenty minutes away, and she always had options. She just hadn’t thought of one yet. (By the way, I really like that last sentence.)

Now, let’s talk about the choreography. Are federal buildings–the setting, as we will learn in the next section–ever so empty that backup is twenty minutes away? I’m thinking more like 90 seconds.

But, in that exchange, Madam Chiang had gained two valuable pieces of information. First, she knew the agent had no idea who she was pursuing, because she had been addressed as ma’am. Likely, the agent only assumed she was a threat because she had just witnessed Madam Chiang blow her friend to oblivion. Not an altogether bad assumption.

This is the only paragraph in the sample that I hate in its entirety. The glibness just doesn’t work. And it stops the flow of the story.

Second, the agent was most likely not even on duty. Her tight dress and heels said she wasn’t here for work. Probably only stopped by the office on her way to a party. Whatever the reason, it must have been dumb luck that the agent saw her at all.

The detail of the agent’s dress (how do we know she’s an agent, by the way, and not a security guard or concealed carrier?) may pay off later, but if not, this is a bit of a non sequitur for me.

Then, there’s a space break, and . .

Moments ago, Madam Chiang had been inside the federal building rushing toward her prearranged exit, clutching the recovered evidence against her chest. She had just spotted her door when a chime announced the elevator’s arrival. Startled, she turned toward the sound. Two women stepped half way out before glimpsing Madam Chiang. All three froze simultaneously. Madam Chiang noticed their eyes widen as they spotted the pistol in her hand. Were they just harmless visitors or a threat?

First, I don’t understand why this is not the beginning of the story.

I’m not at all oriented to the setting here. I know it’s a federal building, but that doesn’t mean anything. The federal building here in Martinsburg, WV, is entirely different than the federal building in Washington, DC. Are we talking marble floors? Artwork on the walls?

And where are the security guards?

“Prearranged exit” implies additional players. Either way, don’t be coy. Share with us what that exit is and how far away it is.

At this stage, I don’t think we need to know what the “recovered evidence” is, but I’m curious why she’s walking the halls with her pistol drawn if she’s just stealing stuff. A gun in your hand makes it more difficult to clutch things against your chest. Also, the reaction of the ladies in the elevator when they see the gun is exactly the reason not to have one in her hand unless she’s on the attack.

That question was quickly resolved when one of the women popped open her clutch and pulled out her own pistol. Madam Chiang leveled the Beretta and squeezed off two rounds. Her first hollow-point hit its mark, entering the body just below the unarmed girl’s armpit, continuing on to obliterate her heart and lungs. The force slammed her body into a wall before folding to the floor in a crumpled heap. The second slug missed its mark.

Here’s a rule to live by–literally: Never draw down on a drawn gun because you’re going to lose the fight. Agents know this. When the gun is carried off-body (as in a purse), it’s an even bigger problem. The agent’s smart move would have been to duck back into the elevator for cover and to buy a few seconds of time.

Okay, I’m an armed bad guy and I confront two targets–one is armed and one is not. Why on earth would I shoot the unarmed target first? We know it wasn’t a miss because the bullet “hit its mark.”

Is Madam Chiang still clutching the evidence to her chest when she fires these shots? If she’s a professional, she needs to finish this gunfight right here. Drop the evidence, engage the targets and be done with it. To intentionally leave an armed and angry enemy alive to follow as you run is a bad decision.

Proprietary irk #3: Bullets don’t throw people around when they hit. Also, while you can see where a bullet hits on a person’s body, there’s no way to know in real time where it goes as it tumbles through the viscera.

If Madam Chiang is a professional, she would know exactly where that second bullet landed, and she would be pissed.

The surviving agent jerked back inside the elevator firing an errant shot as she did. A split-second later, Madam Chiang fired one final shot toward the open elevator and sprinted toward her exit, charging toward cover in an adjacent parking structure.

The smart move for Madam Chiang would be to dump half a magazine through the elevator door behind which the agent was hiding, and then move to the opening to make sure the job was done.

Before the beginning to this paragraph, this post was at 2,048 words. Probably time to move on.

I hand it over to the rest of the TKZ family for further analysis . . .

By PJ Parrish

Good morning, crime dogs. Or, should I say, love dogs. Because I’m abandoning my normal dark and stormy heart to critique a romance submission today.  Hey, this is how I got into this business many moons ago. And I’m so not old that I don’t remember how it felt when the stars make you drool just like paste fazool. See you on the flip side.

Saturday, April 6

CHAPTER ONE

The tinkling of the harp drifts upstairs to the bedroom level. My Louboutin stilettos plunge into the high pile beige carpet. I step carefully, concerned the point will catch the carpet and snag it, possibly sending me flying across the room. Crossing the bedroom, past the loveseat and gas fireplace, I stop in front of Curt and hold his face in my hands. His fresh shaved skin is soft under my fingers. The musky scent of his aftershave lingers around him. He moves closer and places his lips on mine.

“You ready for your big night?” I ask. This party is to celebrate Curt, but I need it to secure my social standing in Arlington and Washington, D.C.

“Do we really have to go downstairs?” Curt murmurs in my ear. His lips brush the top of my ear. His breath is warm on my cheek.

“Do I have to remind you that this birthday party is for you? I spent months planning.” I step backward. After all the effort I’ve put into this, I can’t believe he’d indicate he doesn’t appreciate it, doesn’t want it.

“You know, I didn’t really want to make a big deal this year.” Curt sounds weary.

Slow breath in, slow breath out. I won’t lose my temper with Curt tonight. “Curt, these parties are important. Milestones are important. 35 is a big deal, especially with all the success you’ve had.” I pause. “Connections in this city are everything. You know that. Everyone from your work, and mine, will be here.” He may have been born with a silver spoon in his mouth in Washington, D.C. and the surrounding suburbs, but I wasn’t. I work for every single connection, and this party is part of that. But I am worried about what’s on Curt’s mind. Something’s been weighing on him.

“Alicia, stop. I don’t want to have this argument again. The party is happening.”

Pouting, I sit on the bed next to him. I play the role he expects.

“Alicia, I love you. You know that. The party will be fun. I appreciate all the work you’ve put into it.” He rests his hand on my thigh.

A smile pulls at the corner of my mouth. I stand beside Curt, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, and giving him a squeeze. “It’s going to be the party of the year,” I chirp and kiss the top of his ear softly.

“Don’t start things you’re not prepared to finish.”

I laugh. “We’ll finish this later.”

“I will come back to this after the party.” Curt’s finger trails down the v-neck of my gown. He always knows how to diffuse a situation, including my temper.

_________________________

You know, romance and crime fiction aren’t all that different at heart. Both are fueled by passions. Both depend on a build up and release of tension. Both imply a satisfying ending — be it a happily ever or justice served.

The rules for success in either genre are similar:

• Build believable three-dimensional characters. And keep a firm control, via your plotting, on what they do.
• Keep it fresh. Avoid the sad cliches that can bring your story down to the mundane and get it rejected, either by an editor or an Amazon browser. The boozy cop in conflict with his superior is just as tiresome as a breathless (always green-eyed) beauty who falls for a bad boy at first sight. Be original or be gone.
• Create a juicy conflict and a disruption in the protagonist’s world. Tension in crime fiction usually arises from murder. Tension in a romance can come from personal relationships, a couple’s differing backgrounds or family dysfunction. (Romeo and Juliet).

The main differences? Sex and death. Romance has to have the former. Crime fiction has to have the latter. I used to joke that I got out of the romance novel biz because I got tired of sex. (See video at end). There are infinitely more ways to kill someone than to bed them. So I have great respect for romance writers who make it all feel new again.

As for our submission today, it didn’t come in with a set genre tag. So I am guessing that it is romance. Could be romantic suspense, but no way to tell with such a limited sample. So forgive me, submitting writer, if I err.

What I like about this submission is there is definately some tension, right from the get-go. Alicia and Curt at clearly at odds. On the surface, it is about his not wanting to go to the party. But something deeper is going on between these two because the author makes a point of telling us that Alicia is uneasy about their social gap

Curt was born with “a silver spoon in his mouth” in Washington D.C. circles while Alicia had to work hard for every connection she has made. So kudos, writer, for bringing in some tension early. You could have made the first 400 words all lovey-dovely but you wisely began layering some conflict in with Alicia’s thoughts.

You have a pretty good grip on dialogue. I like how you use it to convey information and build tension between the couple.  It’s not just gooey chitchat, and you don’t have any throat-clearing.

Some things could have made this scene a little stronger, however.

Drop a hint about what this party is about. You say the couple both recognize it is important, so put in a few choice details to pique our interest further. I would like to know, at this point:

Where are we? You are too spare on description. A sense of luxury is faintly implied: She wears $1500 heels and there’s a thick carpet and a loveset in the bedroom. A harpist is playing. It this their home? Is this their wedding day? Have they snuck upstairs at an embassy party for a quickie? Whose bedroom is this? If it’s theirs, well, you missed a chance to up the tension even more — they sit down on a bed as they argue. Can there be a more potent metaphor for conflict?

Why be coy? A little world-building would help.

I get peevish when writers withhold description. Yes, you don’t want too much too early. But we get more details on how Curt smells than where we are. Don’t be afraid to SHOW us where we are. Description is a powerful tool — it helps create mood and can really enhance your tension.

Let’s go to the line edit. My comments in red.

Saturday, April 6 Argh. You don’t need a time tag. Find a way to weave it into the narrative if it’s important. Are you in flashback or about to jump in time or geography? If not, don’t bother. Time tags set up expectations in readers’ minds — they see one and they think you’re going to jerk them around in time and space. 

CHAPTER ONE

The tinkling of the harp drifts upstairs to the bedroom level. My Louboutin stilettos plunge into the high pile thick beige carpet. I step carefully, concerned the point will catch the carpet and snag it, possibly sending me flying across the room. Worried that I will trip. (Keep physical choregraphy simple!) Crossing the bedroom, past the loveseat and gas fireplace, I stop in front of Curt I go to Curt, pause and cup his face in my hands. and hold his face in my hands. His fresh shaved skin is soft under my fingers. The musky scent of his aftershave lingers around him. Be specific. “Musky” is cliche. If it is worth mentioning, make it mean something, as you did with Louboutins: The woodsy-clove smell of his Sauvage cologne drifts up to me, making me remember when we were in college and the Brut he used to buy at the drugstore. (Make it mean something! Dribble in backstory!)

He moves closer and places his lips on mine. kisses me. Set this off by itself.

“You ready for your big night?” I ask. This party is to celebrate Curt, but I need it to secure my social standing in Arlington and Washington, D.C. Let this info come out more naturally later.

“Do we really have to go downstairs?” Curt murmurs in my ear. His lips brush the top of my ear. His breath is warm on my cheek.

“Do I have to remind you that this birthday party is for you? I spent months planning.”

Physical movement needs new graph. Let dialogue stand on its own, I step backward. After all the effort I’ve put into this, I can’t believe he’d indicate he doesn’t appreciate it, doesn’t want it.

“You know, I didn’t really want to make a big deal this year.” Curt sounds weary. She has stepped away from him and he should react to that. Maybe he DOES something that conveys weariness. She’s in a gown you say later. What is he wearing? Agaiin, description and details matter. Maybe he tugs at his tuxedo tie? SHOW don’t TELL.

Slow breath in, slow breath out. I won’t lose my temper with Curt tonight. How about: I won’t lose my temper. Not tonight. By making it into two sentences, you stress that she has lost it before and that tonight , for some reason, must be different.  Again, look for any small ways to increase the tension.

“Curt, these parties are important. Milestones are important. 35 Never start a sentence with a numeral. “A thirty-fifth birtday is imporant.”  is a big deal, especially with all the success you’ve had.” I pause. “Connections in this city are everything. You know that. Everyone from your work, and mine, here is where you can hint at what they do. “Work” is too meh.  “Everyone from the law office will be here. Everyone on both sides of aisle. Everyone from K Street. BE SPECIFIC will be here.”

You need a break here. Because what’s coming next is important. Curt may have been born with a silver spoon in his mouth in Washington, D.C. and the surrounding suburbs, Yikes, watch your syntax here. He wasn’t born in DC AND the suburbs. Do you mean to say that he was born wealthy and NOW his position in DC is crucial? Clarify. but I wasn’t. I had to work for every single connection, and this party is part of that. Tell us what her job is.

But I am worried about what’s on Curt’s mind. Find a way to SHOW us, don’t tell us, she’s worried. Something’s been weighing on him. Something like: I take another step back so I can get a clearer look at him. There were dark circles under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept. It wasn’t just the party. Something else was bothering him. 

He slowly turned and went to sit on the edge of the bed. You need this action. “Alicia, stop. I don’t want to have this argument again. The party is happening.” Not sure what you mean here. Is he saying, yes, I will go downstairs. Or we have to go downstairs. 

Pouting, This is out of mood and character and makes her look childish. I sit on the bed next to him. You never had him sit down. I play the role he expects. Not sure what you’re getting at here. The dutiful wife? She does nothing here. 

“Alicia, I love you. You know that. The party will be fun. I appreciate all the work you’ve put into it.” He rests his hand on my thigh. Well, that’s rather brotherly. They ARE SITTING ON A BED (theirs?) Surely, such a cool motion makes her react or think something? Don’t let these moments go to waste.

PROBLEM HERE. You did a nice job of building tension between these two and suddenly, whiplash. She gets lovey-dovey, chirping and kissy? It makes no emotional sense. See next graph.

A smile pulls at the corner of my mouth. SIMPLIFY: I stood up and smiled. I stand beside Curt, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, and giving him a squeeze. “It’s going to be the party of the year,” I chirp and kiss the top of his ear softly. Need to rewrite this graph. If she stands up, remember that he is still seated and she would have to bend down to squeeze/kiss him. And I don’t buy the change in her emotions. Make it transition somehow.

“Don’t start things you’re not prepared to finish.”

I laugh. “We’ll finish this later.” Again, the mood change is way too abrupt. You’ve leached the tension out of your opening. 

“I will come back to this after the party.” Curt’s finger trails down the v-neck of my gown. Have him stand up first He always knows how to diffuse a situation, including my temper. You’re too close to romance cliche here. Suddenly, the maiden succumbs to the man’s “charms”? You can do better.

Okay, dear writer. I think you’ve got a good start here and I like the tension you’ve set up between Alicia and Curt. This is a start and I would like to know what will happen to this couple. Think about paying more attention to “world building” here. I know it’s not of mega-universe proportions, ie, you’re not sending us off to the distant planet of Uvardis. But hey, the world of Washington society and politics is pretty weird and alien. Make it come alive for your characters — and your readers.

Thanks for your submission!

Description should create a mood that matches the emotion of the POV character. If we all stood in the same yard at the same time, we’d interpret the atmosphere in difference ways, colored by personal circumstance and experience.

A fearful character sees, smells, hears, tastes, and touches differently than a joyful character, and the milieu should reflect that difference through word choices, pacing, and viewpoint. The fearful character won’t detect colorful finches flitting from tree to tree or the sweet melody of birdsong. Instead, narrow focus to enhance the scene.

Also, this is not the time for the fearful character to overthink with long, rambling musings. Stay in the moment.

The fearful character might interpret their environment like this…

The moon refused to brighten the path, the forest dark, ominous. Trees loomed, froze. Leaves quaked. Stars cowered in the haze. Each footstep that neared — deliberate, slow, methodical — crunched dead flora. Sweet pine soured by the raw stench of death. Blood crawled across my tongue, vomit lurching in my throat.

Same setting filtered through a joyful character’s perspective…

The moon’s golden smolder caressed the hiking trail below the deck, the forest content and celebrating the reunion of nocturnal friends. Paws pattering, wings breathing new life into the evening hours, the sweetness of pine kissing soft fur and feathers as they flitted by. Strawberry wine slipped across my palate as I basked under the umbrella of stars in the night sky.

WORD CHOICE, SENTENCE STRUCTURE, AND PACE

For the fearful character, I used punchy verbs (loomed, quaked, cowered, soured, crawled, lurched), staccato sentences, and offset longer sentences with em dashes to maintain the pace. The only gerund varied the sentence structure and rhythm. I also juxtaposed — sweet pine soured by the raw stench of death — but we’ll get to that after.

With the joyful character, I used softer verbs (caressed, celebrating, pattering, breathing, kissing, flitted) longer sentences, and gerunds to create a relaxing pace.

TICKLE THE SENSES

I used four senses in the fearful character’s example.

Sight: self-explanatory

Sound: the footstep — deliberate, slow, methodical — crunched dead flora

Smell: soured pine, raw stench of death

Taste: decomp, vomit

I could include touch (rough tree bark), but I wanted to keep it brief. Too much description destroys the urgency of fear.

In the joyful character’s example, I also used four.

Sight: self-explanatory

Sound: paws pattering, wings breathing

Smell: sweetness of pine

Taste: strawberry wine

“Soft fur” could indicate touch, I suppose, but without the character actively petting an animal. Here again, I kept it brief. As a reader and a writer, I prefer quick descriptions dabbled in here and there, rather than read or write endless paragraphs. A little goes a long way.

FILTER THROUGH EXPERIENCE

Maybe the fearful character witnessed a failed suicide attempt when he found a relative hanging in the backyard before the rope snapped. Or a bad guy hanged them. In either scenario, a tree phobia would make sense. The forest is the last place they want to be, and the description should reflect their emotional response.

I kept my examples generic on purpose, but filtering through the POV character’s experience enhances the mood of the scene. Again, don’t go nuts. We don’t need or want endless paragraphs of backstory. Keep it brief.

ONOMATOPOEIA 

Onomatopoeia words help create a visceral response in the reader. Again, don’t go overboard. Moderation is key.

Caw (C’mon, you knew I had to start with my beloved crows ;-))

Bang

Ahem

Belch

Splash

Hiss

Click

Argh

Chirp

Buzz

Clang

Achoo

Blare

Crackle

Bash

Clank

Bark

Clap

Crash

Boom

Zip

Chatter

Ding

Boo

Cuckoo

Blab

Bawl

Blare

Blurt

Chomp

Clap

Chortle

Cough

Crack

Gurgle

Grunt

Guffaw

Hack

Hiccup

Howl

Jangle

Hoot

Jingle

Knock

Moan

Mumble

Murmur

Mutter

Neigh

Oink

Phew

Pluck

Plunk

Poof

Pop

Purr

Prowl

Ring

Rip

Roar

Rumble

Rush

Rustle

Screech

Shuffle

Shush

Sizzle

Slash

Slither

Slosh

Slurp

Smack

Snap

Snarl

Snip

Snort

Splash

Splatter

Squawk

Squelch

Thud

Trickle

Waffle

Whisper

Whizz

Whoop

Whoosh

Yelp

Zoom

Zing

Zap

JUXATAPOSITION 

“Juxta” is Latin for “next to.” And “pose” means to place. To juxtapose is to “place next to.”

Now, the two can be opposites.

Dark and light.

Despair and hope.

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”

Opposites are not mandatory to juxtapose, though.

What juxtaposition should do is show a contrast filtered through the POV character.

I slept while you were dying.

Rose petals edged her torture chamber.

Warmth slashed through an endless pit of darkness.

Okie doke. TKZ, let’s discuss.

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.