Of all the elements that go into a story, pacing is among the most misunderstood. Most writers think they know what makes a book feel fast-paced. A majority of them are wrong.
Stringing short, clipped sentences into wall-of-text paragraphs within rapid-fire chapters doesn’t always give readers a sense of speed. In fact, it can do the opposite by bringing on action fatigue.
Pacing has less to do with keeping lots of plates spinning than with with motivation.
Here are the rules to remember:
- Storytelling is about manipulating the reader’s perceptions. It’s primarily emotional. Intellect is secondary.
- The physical relationships between text elements hardly ever have the same proportional effects on readers’ perceptions. In fact, the opposite is more often true. It’s like dream logic.
It’s counterintuitive, but nonstop action feels like a slog. Yet a story with one explosion every 5000 words can feel like a runaway roller coaster ride if you’ve set up your characters’ motives.
To put it in technical terms, the element that keeps the reader turning pages on the edge of his seat is dramatic tension. And conflict builds tension.
Note that conflict and action are not the same. Conflict arises when a character in pursuit of a goal encounters an obstacle to getting what he wants. Action often releases tension by providing a measure of conflict resolution.
The longer a fight scene, the more tension is reduced, Think of action as a tension release valve.
That doesn’t mean you should pull an Indiana-Jones-shooting-the-swordsman routine every time. Balancing dramatic tension with satisfying conflict resolution is a tightrope act. Having the hero blow through every challenge desensitizes the reader until the appearance of new obstacles no longer raises the tension.
The trick is to have an overarching goal for the protagonist. Regularly introduce new obstacles–and new kinds of obstacles–that ratchet up the tension. And have the hero believably defeat the opposition without releasing all of the additional tension.
You’ll know you did it right if, every action scene, the dramatic tension is at least a little higher than it was before the scene began.
Picture a series of peaks and valleys, with each peak and valley higher than the last.
That’s effective tension.
Dramatic tension should reach a crescendo in the third act climax. At that point, the story should downshift from rising action to falling action as loose ends are tied up and the last conflicts are resolved.
Since action scenes can act as release valves, breaks in the action can maintain or even heighten tension. Characters can use downtime to discuss the story’s stakes, which is a great way to heighten tension.
Think of any scene in an Ocean’s movie where the characters are planning a heist. Showing you all the complex security measures they must defeat to succeed turns up the tension, even though the only action is a conversation between characters,
For the ultimate example of non-action tension building, look to The Empire Strikes Back. Many viewers erroneously think Luke’s lightsaber duel with Vader is the movie’s climax. It’s not. Their discussion afterward is. It doesn’t get any more dramatic than Vader’s pivotal revelation. The resolution comes when Luke makes his choice and jumps.
Where to place the breaks? A piece of advice Jagi gave me that I try to use in every novel is to give the characters a chance to rest and reflect on their situation at least once per act. This serves as a recap of the story thus far for the reader’s benefit and can build/maintain tension as explained above.
For some added action genre structural help, check out Lester Dent’s Master Pulp Formula. It was devised for short stories, but it scales up to novels easily. Just divide your total word count by four, and replace the 1500 value with that number. It maps to three act structure pretty well, too.
To see the Lester Dent Master Pulp Formula in action, read my fan-favorite anthology:
