Please
welcome Stephen Liskow with some thoughts on the delicate art of pacing…..
Pacing
in the Short Story
Before I turned to writing full-time, I acted,
directed, produced or designed for nearly 100 theatrical productions. One
theater I worked with took an idea from the Actors Theater of Louisville and
produced a festival in which each play lasted ten minutes or less.
A ten minute play teaches you the true essentials:
stakes, conflict and resolution with a minimum of explanation. In ten minutes,
you can’t afford to waste time with set changes or lots of character
introductions, either.
When I present my workshop on the short story, I
remember what those ten-minute plays taught me about pacing and structure. Less
is more. The fewer scenes, the fewer characters, the less explanation, the more
power.
Ideally, a ten-minute play has one scene in one
location. That forces you to pick the best location for your story, one where
the conflict can emerge and the characters can resolve it with the tools
(props) at hand. Keep this in mind for short stories, too. One of my first
published stories, “Little Things,” takes place at a miniature golf course
where two children meet for the first time because their respective single
parents are dating. The golf game parallels the rivalry between the two kids,
and the eventual victory suggests the resolution of the story.
Since the story depends on the friction of the kids
meeting for the first time, it needs no back-story. Obviously the parents have
pursued their relationship to a point where they think their children should
meet, but I don’t have to say so. The story’s dialogue stays almost completely
with the little girl telling the boy about how her daddy “ate his gun,” and the
tension comes from our understanding that she doesn’t know what that means. The
story develops and resolves in the time it takes to play a round of miniature
golf.
Real time can help your pacing, too. If you want the
story to resolve in one or two scenes and a short time, you need events to
occur that will lead to your ending quickly. This forces you to concentrate more
on character and action and less on description. Because of my theater
background, I tend to leave out visual description and substitute behavior.
Unconsciously, I still think the audience can “see” my characters and how
they’re dressed, and the behavior takes the place of stage directions.
Those short plays don’t have scene changes, but they
use “beats” instead. A beat simply means a change of some kind. Maybe a
character changes tactics or someone gains new information. If you use a beat
this way in a story, you don’t need a new scene because that new information
will increase the energy and tension. It moves you closer to your resolution.
Theater teaches you to write dialogue, too. Dialogue
is NOT simply two people talking. It’s Character A saying things that will
force, manipulate, or encourage Character B to act in a certain way. One will
do this better than the other one (or have better information at his disposal)
and reach his goal. Vocabulary also helps you depict character (that behavior
thing again) with less description. Remember, I’m still working with that
ten-minute template.
Naturally, a ten-minute play needs fewer actors. The
rule of thumb seems to be five or fewer, and that’s good for a short story, too
(Odd numbers create an uneven balance). One short story I couldn’t sell relied
on a large cast and there wasn’t room for readers to absorb who everyone was. I
eventually expanded that story into a novella and it worked better. But if you
have a basic conflict that needs no explanation and only have one or two
scenes, you should be able to keep your cast small, too. That means fewer
introductions and they can participate in the action right away. If you doubt
this, think about Oedipus the King, a
full-length play by Sophocles. It’s a classic, maybe the earliest murder
mystery, but how many characters even have names? I remember only four along
with assorted messengers, servants, and shepherds. Twenty-five hundred years
ago, Sophocles gives us the feeling that the action occurs in real time. You
could cut the choral scenes and change the tale into a short story with no
trouble.
Your rhythm and pace build to a strong ending. I
always tell my workshops that your opening should set up that ending.
Sometimes, you give the information to resolve the situation right away. Look
at your first page and see what it promises your characters and your reader.
Then fulfill that promise. This doesn’t have to be complicated. If you’re
writing a mystery, you’re simply promising a solution. If your story is a
romance, we’re looking for the characters to get together. Your obstacles can
simply be beats, one after another.
Keep it simple and keep it moving.
Stephen Liskow ©2016
Steve Liskow’s short stories have earned an Edgar
nomination, the Black Orchid Novella Award from The Wolfe Pack, and two
Honorable Mentions for the Al Blanchard Story Award from the New England
Chapter of MWA. The Kids Are All Right was also a Shamus Award Finalist for
Best Indie He has just released his eleventh novel, Dark Gonna Catch Me Here.
