Invisible
Questions:
Creating Narrative Flow
By
Sam Reeves
©2003, Sam Reeves
magine
the writer scrutinizing his manuscript and sensing something is wrong. He
structured each sentence well. The punctuation is correct, and sentence
length varies nicely. He screws his mouth to the side as he tries to
define what is missing. The paragraphs feel bumpy. He imagines
transitions should glide from one sentence to the next. Yet, there is a
start-and-stop feel throughout his paragraphs.
He
does not realize that everything a person reads reveals only half of a
conversation.
Between
the Lines
"Every
sentence feels like a topic sentence!" I said a few months ago while
staring at the dirty part of half a blank page.
I
rarely write from an outline. I close my eyes, scan the storyscape, and
report the next thing that moves. However, I found that the ideas from
sentence to sentence fail to direct the reader along a stream of thought.
It makes no difference if I rearrange the order of the sentences. I rake
back through the previous text, hoping to pull out some junk. I repeat the
process for the next sentence. Nothing changes until, a few hundred words
later, a pattern unfolds.
The
process for assembling my thoughts is start-and-stop, and this produces a
narrative with a start-and-stop feel. Instead of weaving a storyline, I
list ideas.
But
isn't that what narrative structure really is? Sentences encapsulate
thoughts. Similar thoughts group into paragraphs. Paragraphs act as
stepping-stones through the scene. Isn't a manuscript simply a logical
arrangement of information packets?
Yes.
But there is more, hidden in the text.
Pull
a book down from your shelf and find in it a long paragraph, a nice big black
block. Read the first sentence and stop. Read the second sentence
and stop. And then the third. Can you hear the second voice, between the
visible text, whispering questions? One sentence introduces part of a
picture that baits the reader into subconsciously asking a question about the
idea or action. The writer, in turn, answers that question in the next
sentence while simultaneously expanding information that prompts the reader into
asking additional questions. And then the process repeats itself.
Let's
look at a bumpy paragraph from my novel in progress The Loth Stem Forest:
At
the northeastern city limit of Jentry, dirt streets gave way to the neglected
pavement of the countryside. A brief wind pushed at MaJarel's back, and
for a moment, the weakness lifted from his arms and legs and it no longer felt
like he walked against the current of a thick liquid. With it came the
scent—the memory?—of food. Torches twinkled through the trees in the
distance as travelers rode or walked toward the gates of the Loth Stem Forest
two miles into the brush.
The
first sentence states that the pavement has been neglected. The second
sentence describes how the wind affects MaJarel. The third tells us he can
smell food. And so on. Each offers a packet of information that when
grouped becomes a list simply describing the edge of town. The thoughts
group, but fail to direct the reader along a linear progression.
What
if, however, we restructure the sentences and add new ones so that each evokes
curiosity from the reader?
At
the northeastern city limit of Jentry dirt streets gave way to the neglected
pavement of the countryside.
The
writer should put himself in the reader's place and ask, "What do you mean
'neglected pavement'? What does it look like?'
--
a pale strip of shifting stones --
Structure
that image so that it evokes another question.
A
pale strip of shifting stones stretched out before him leading to the rim of
the Loth Stem Forest where MaJarel could see movement.
The
reader asks, "What kind of movement?"
The
author responds:
Torches
twinkled through the trees in the distance as travelers rode or walked toward
the gates of the Loth Stem Forest.
It
might be easier to see the process with the sentences aligned in a paragraph.
I inserted the invisible reader questions within parenthesis.
At
the northeastern city limit of Jentry, dirt streets gave way to the neglected
pavement of the countryside. (What do you mean 'neglected'? What
does it look like?) A pale strip of shifting stones that no
vehicles had rumbled over in more than forty years stretched out before them,
leading to the rim of the Loth Stem Forest where MaJarel could see movement.
(What kind of movement?) Torches of travelers twinkled through the trees
in the distance. (Who are they? Where are they going?)
Everyone under the age of thirty from the surrounding towns would be walking
or riding toward the gates of the Loth Stem Forest two miles into the brush.
(Why?)
Now
the entire new paragraph with invisible questions omitted:
At
the northeastern city limit of Jentry, dirt streets gave way to the neglected
pavement of the countryside. A pale strip of shifting stones that no
vehicles had rumbled over in more than forty years stretched out before them,
leading to the rim of the Loth Stem Forest where MaJarel could see movement.
Torches of travelers twinkled through the trees in the distance.
Everyone under the age of thirty from the surrounding towns would be walking
or riding toward the gates of the Loth Stem Forest two miles into the brush.
Once they had paid the toll to pass through the gates, they could cleanse
their poisoned food in the hot energy roots of a Loth Stem. Then, they
could eat until satiated for the first time in a month, a thought that MaJarel
savored until the wind picked up. The brief wind pushed at MaJarel's
back, and for a moment, the weakness lifted from his arms and legs and it no
longer felt like he walked against the current of a thick liquid, but with the
wind came something else. The odor from the chest boiled in his lungs.
He moaned from the scent--the memory?--of food.
The
next paragraph obviously would answer how he reacts to the scent.
Hidden
Benefits
Did
you notice that not only did the flow of the paragraph improve but also
heightens the drama? By baiting the readers into asking questions, you
entice them to wonder what will happen next.
This
simple technique will not transform a weak plot or lackluster prose into a
page-turner, but it may alleviate some of the pains of dragging the bottom of
your mind for what to say next. One of the most powerful tools in
storycraft is a sense of what the reader wants to know. You can control
that by restructuring your sentences so that they spark curiosity. You may
find that not only does the narrative flow improve but also the words come
faster. You will be more conscious of your writing.
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