Hey Runners (and Walkers)! Thought This Might Be Helpful :)

Hey runners (and walkers)! Thought this might be helpful :)

The Two Types of Pacing

Pacing is a tricky, tricky thing. Hopefully, by breaking it down into two schools of thought, we can better our understanding of maintaining effective pacing.

as requested by @whisperinghallwaysofmirrors

First, Some Definitions

According to Writer’s Digest, narrative pacing is “a tool that controls the speed and rhythm at which a story is told… [H]ow fast or slow events in a piece unfold and how much time elapses in a scene or story.“

Pacing can be a lot of things. Slow, fast, suspenseful, meandering, boring, exciting, et cetera et cetera. While we don’t want meandering or boring, getting it to be the other things can be a feat.

As I go through all of this, I would like to say that the number one thing you should be keeping in mind with the pacing of your story is the purpose.

What is the purpose of this story, scene, dialogue, action, arc, plot point, chapter, et al? This and only this will keep you on track the whole way through.

Without further ado, here are the two types of pacing…

Micro Pacing

This, to me, is the harder of the two. Macro pacing usually comes naturally with our understanding of overall story structure that we see in books and movies. Micro is much more subjective and labor-intensive.

The first step of every scene you write is to identify what kind of pacing it needs to be effective. Is a slower pace going to nail in the emotional tone? Is a faster pace going to convey how urgent the scene is? Is choppy going to show how chaotic it is? How much attention to detail is needed? Et cetera. And even with the scene’s tone, there are also tones within with action, dialogue, and narrator perception.

There is no one-size-fits-all trick to mastering pacing. All you can do is try to keep it in mind as you draft. Don’t let it consume you, though. Just get it down. After drafting, look at the pacing with a critical eye. Do important scenes go too fast? Are unnecessary things being dragged out? Is this scene too detailed to be suspenseful?

A lot of errors in pacing are quick fixes. The adding or removal of details, shortening or lengthening of sentences, changing descriptions. However, these quick fixes do take a while when you have to look at every single scene in a story.

Macro Pacing

Rather than the contents of a scene, this deals with everything larger. Scenes, chapters, plot points, storylines, subplots, and arcs. This is taking a look at how they all work for each other when pieced together.

One of the biggest resources when it comes to analyzing macro pacing is story structure philosophy. The common examples are Freytag’s Pyramid, the 3-Act Structure, Hero’s Journey, and Blake Snyder’s 15 Beats. They follow the traditional story structure. Exposition, catalyst, rising action, climax, and resolution (albeit each in different terms and specificity). Though some see it as “cookie-cutter”, 99% of effective stories follow these formats at a considerable capacity. It’s not always about how the story is told, but rather who tells it. But I digress.

Looking at these structures, we can begin to see how the tried-and-true set-up is centered around effective pacing.

The beginning, where everything is set up, is slower but short and sweet. The catalyst happens early and our MC is sent out on a journey or quest whether they like it or not. The trek to a climax is a tricky stage for maintaining effective pacing. Good stories fluctuate between fast and slow. There is enough to keep it exciting, but we’re given breaks to stop and examine the finer details like theme, characterization, and arcs.

The edge before the climax is typically when the action keeps coming and we’re no longer given breaks. The suspense grabs us and doesn’t let go. This is the suspense that effectively amounts to the crescendo and leads to the emotional payoff and release that follows in the resolution. The resolution is nothing BUT a break, or a breather if you will. Though it is slower like the exposition, it is longer than that because this is where we wrap everything up for total closure. This is what the reader needs, rather than what they want. So you can take your time.

Not every story has to follow this recipe step-by-step. Critically acclaimed movies such as Pulp Fiction, Frances Ha, and Inside Llewyn Davis* break the traditional structure. However, they still keep certain ingredients in it. Whether it be the concept of a climax, the idea of a journey, or the overall balance of tension and release.

If you’re struggling with the macro side of your story’s pacing, I would try to identify what the weakest areas are and see if applying these story structure concepts and methodology strengthens it at all. If not, it may be that your story idea doesn’t fit the “substance” requirement of an 80k+ word novel. It may need more or fewer subplots or an increase of conflict or more things getting in the MC’s way. You could also see if adapting it to a shorter medium (novella, et al) or a longer medium (series, episodics, et al) would alleviate the pacing issues.

*sorry all my references are movies and not books, but I’ve seen more movies than I’ve read books

In Short–

Pacing, both macro and micro, are incredibly subjective concepts. The only way to really find out how effective your story’s pacing is, is to look at it through the lens of traditional structures and ask for feedback from beta readers. How a reader,who doesn’t know the whole story like you do feels about pacing is the best resource you could have.

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isotope-slander

2 years ago

Please make a post about the story of the RMS Carpathia, because it's something that's almost beyond belief and more people should know about it.

Carpathia received Titanic’s distress signal at 12:20am, April 15th, 1912. She was 58 miles away, a distance that absolutely could not be covered in less than four hours.

(Californian’s exact position at the time is…controversial. She was close enough to have helped. By all accounts she was close enough to see Titanic’s distress rockets. It’s uncertain to this day why her crew did not respond, or how many might not have been lost if she had been there. This is not the place for what-ifs. This is about what was done.)

Carpathia’s Captain Rostron had, yes, rolled out of bed instantly when woken by his radio operator, ordered his ship to Titanic’s aid and confirmed the signal before he was fully dressed. The man had never in his life responded to an emergency call. His goal tonight was to make sure nobody who heard that fact would ever believe it.

All of Carpathia’s lifeboats were swung out ready for deployment. Oil was set up to be poured off the side of the ship in case the sea turned choppy; oil would coat and calm the water near Carpathia if that happened, making it safer for lifeboats to draw up alongside her. He ordered lights to be rigged along the side of the ship so survivors could see it better, and had nets and ladders rigged along her sides ready to be dropped when they arrived, in order to let as many survivors as possible climb aboard at once.

I don’t know if his making provisions for there still being survivors in the water was optimism or not. I think he knew they were never going to get there in time for that. I think he did it anyway because, god, you have to hope.

Carpathia had three dining rooms, which were immediately converted into triage and first aid stations. Each had a doctor assigned to it. Hot soup, coffee, and tea were prepared in bulk in each dining room, and blankets and warm clothes were collected to be ready to hand out. By this time, many of the passengers were awake–prepping a ship for disaster relief isn’t quiet–and all of them stepped up to help, many donating their own clothes and blankets.

And then he did something I tend to refer to as diverting all power from life support.

Here’s the thing about steamships: They run on steam. Shocking, I know; but that steam powers everything on the ship, and right now, Carpathia needed power. So Rostron turned off hot water and central heating, which bled valuable steam power, to everywhere but the dining rooms–which, of course, were being used to make hot drinks and receive survivors. He woke up all the engineers, all the stokers and firemen, diverted all that steam back into the engines, and asked his ship to go as fast as she possibly could. And when she’d done that, he asked her to go faster.

I need you to understand that you simply can’t push a ship very far past its top speed. Pushing that much sheer tonnage through the water becomes harder with each extra knot past the speed it was designed for. Pushing a ship past its rated speed is not only reckless–it’s difficult to maneuver–but it puts an incredible amount of strain on the engines. Ships are not designed to exceed their top speed by even one knot. They can’t do it. It can’t be done.

Carpathia’s absolute do-or-die, the-engines-can’t-take-this-forever top speed was fourteen knots. Dodging icebergs, in the dark and the cold, surrounded by mist, she sustained a speed of almost seventeen and a half.

No one would have asked this of them. It wasn’t expected. They were almost sixty miles away, with icebergs in their path. They had a responsibility to respond; they did not have a responsibility to do the impossible and do it well. No one would have faulted them for taking more time to confirm the severity of the issue. No one would have blamed them for a slow and cautious approach. No one but themselves.

They damn near broke the laws of physics, galloping north headlong into the dark in the desperate hope that if they could shave an hour, half an hour, five minutes off their arrival time, maybe for one more person those five minutes would make the difference. I say: three people had died by the time they were lifted from the lifeboats. For all we know, in another hour it might have been more. I say they made all the difference in the world.

This ship and her crew received a message from a location they could not hope to reach in under four hours. Just barely over three hours later, they arrived at Titanic’s last known coordinates. Half an hour after that, at 4am, they would finally find the first of the lifeboats. it would take until 8:30 in the morning for the last survivor to be brought onboard. Passengers from Carpathia universally gave up their berths, staterooms, and clothing to the survivors, assisting the crew at every turn and sitting with the sobbing rescuees to offer whatever comfort they could.

In total, 705 people of Titanic’s original 2208 were brought onto Carpathia alive. No other ship would find survivors.

At 12:20am April 15th, 1912, there was a miracle on the North Atlantic. And it happened because a group of humans, some of them strangers, many of them only passengers on a small and unimpressive steam liner, looked at each other and decided: I cannot live with myself if I do anything less.

I think the least we can do is remember them for it.