The Writer 03.2020

(Axel Boer) #1

10 | The Writer • March 2020


FROM THE FRONT LINES


BY YI SHUN LAI


I


’ve been signing up for races of
all sorts for a really, really long
time. And, at the start line of
each of these races, no matter
whether they’re adventure races, tri-
athlons, 10Ks, or marathons, I’m never
quick out of the gate. I always mutter
to myself, “pace yourself, pace yourself,
pace yourself.”
This is at least in part because I’m a
recklessly irresponsible human and
don’t train properly. And then, when I
get to race day, I’m forced to underper-
form, so that I can be assured of actu-
ally getting to the finish line. This is
not anything to aspire to or train for.
My friends who are truly elite athletes
will say that you should finish every
race having left it all out on the course.
What’s the point, otherwise?
But what I go for is some sense of
internal “rightness” when it comes to


pace, some kind of barometer that tells
me that I’m striking the right pace for
finishing the race. And it can be a great
way to write a story or an essay. In fact,
“pace yourself ” is something I mutter
regularly to writers as I’m reading their
short stories or essays, even though I
know they can’t hear me. (I also do
something similar when I’m watching
action movies: “Now why the hell
would you do that?” is a thing I have
been known to yell at the screen.)
First, some loose definitions: What
does this reader think of as great pac-
ing? Well, it’s just the hallmark of a
work that keeps me turning pages with-
out feeling lost or confused or wonder-
ing where we’re going.
And then, some ideas on what great
pacing isn’t, necessarily:


  • It doesn’t have to be some predict-
    able plot device, like the Hero’s


Journey or even the tried-and-true
three-act structure of a great film.


  • It isn’t strictly the purview of thrill-
    ers or suspense novels.

  • It isn’t always about character
    development.
    From my desk (or couch, or bed, or
    chaise longue, or whatever reading
    location), it’s a matter of timing. And
    it’s also about a little thing I think of as
    valuing your readers’ time and the
    investment they’ve made in your story.
    If that’s all a little nebulous, that’s
    OK. I sometimes think writers can’t
    actually see their story until they’re
    able to see it with fresh eyes, just as a
    reader would experience it. If you’re
    reading a work that’s paced wrong,
    you may get the impression that you’re
    just hanging out, waiting for some-
    thing to happen. Or that you’re experi-
    encing some kind of whiplash, where


Finding your stride


The secret to good writing that never confuses, bores,
or leads the reader astray? It’s all in the timing.

Tali

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