I have read many, many books on writing craft, but I rarely see much about one of the most basic aspects of writing.
Paragraphing.
See what I did there? By making that one word its own paragraph, I called it out. Gave it more attention. Drew your eye to it.
As writers, our main job is to create a world in the reader’s mind, a world and people that seem real to us, so real that we will lose sleep to find out what happens to them. But there are other visual aspects to writing that are not in our imagination. Publishers put a lot of thought into the layout of the book—the font, how the beginning of a chapter is designed, the page headings, etc. And I think we all agree, these literal visual aspects are important. They make the book look and feel professional, and they stay out of the way—if they bring too much attention to themselves, they’ve been done wrong. Paragraphing is similar in that it’s not often noticed consciously by the reader. But it does have a subconscious affect.
Ever flip through a book, see huge blocks of text, and put it back on the shelf? Those books feel heavy, feel like they’ll be a slog to get through. Not exactly how writers want their fiction stories to be perceived.
Know why people are attracted to dialogue in books? Why it makes it feel like a faster pace? Part of that is due to paragraphing. Most conversation is a sentence or two, or even a single word, back and forth between two or more characters, and each time a different character talks, it’s a new paragraph. Of course, there are some books where it’s more of a soliloquy than a conversation—this is dialogue gone bad. No one wants to listen to a speech. Pretty much ever.
You can accomplish this feeling of a faster pace without dialogue, if done properly. This is especially true in action scenes. I’m a suspense writer with a focus on fight scenes, so I write a lot of action. Here’s an excerpt from my upcoming book Endless As The Rain. Notice how short the paragraphs are and how that creates a sense of quickened pace and intensity.
When the passenger door was even with her, the car paused. Perhaps they were lost?
The back door opened, and a man stepped out. His suit was tailored and posture straight, everything about him precise. He was fair-skinned with green eyes that caught the dappled light like uncut emeralds.
“Would you be able to give us directions?” he asked.
His voice—it sounded vaguely familiar…
She moved back a step. She stayed away from men in general, and handsome men in particular. “The end of this road is Providence Street. Turn left and you’ll hit Main in a few miles.” She moved back another step.
“I’m afraid I don’t know the area very well.”
“There’s a gas station down the road. I’m sure they have maps.” Does anyone sell maps anymore? She stepped back again.
He lurched forward and grabbed her arm just above her elbow.
She tried to pull away and opened her mouth to scream.
“Please,” he said.
She hesitated. He looked and sounded so… It was more than sincere. It was honest concern mixed with something else, something strong.
“You have me confused with someone else.” She pulled at her hand.
“I don’t.” In one motion, he scooped her up and set her gently in the car.
Now in panic mode, she scooted over to the other door. She’d jump out and run.
But the door was locked. She hit the unlock button, but the door still wouldn’t open.
However, paragraphing needs to be appropriate for the scene. Let’s say the characters are having a deep conversation. In these circumstances, longer paragraphs are often called for. Though we can’t let them get too long or it starts to feel like boring blathering. What I like to do is throw in an occasional one-word paragraph, or maybe a short phrase. This draws attention and intensifies that one word. Even more so than in fight scenes because that one word is juxtaposed by longer paragraphs. Of course, we can’t randomly do this, so we need to keep an eye out for opportunities that feel organic, that intensify the emotion.
As writers, we have many tools at our disposal to make the reader see what we want them to see and feel what we want them to feel, and the best tools are the ones of which the reader isn’t even aware.
