by Eleanor Bertin

Imagine reading about one of your most ordinary days. “The sixty-four-year-old woman cast aside the rumpled sheet and fray-edged polyester blanket, swung her legs out of bed, stuffed her feet into sloppy leather slippers and shuffled to the bathroom, eleven steps from bed to throne. She lifted her nightie and sat…” Definitely TMI, right?

Writing fiction is all about finding the balance between giving too much information and too little. To keep readers engaged, we need to paint pictures in their minds, scenes that include enough backdrop, characterization, action, and dialogue so readers can fill in the gaps with their own imagination. Enough to pique their interest, but not so much as to be tedious.

Each sentence should move the story along. Nothing should be wasted; nothing unnecessary to the story should be added. My rambling day-in-the-life example sounds hum-drum, yes? But what if it hints at something suspenseful or interesting about to happen? Plodding, mundane details take on sinister significance or poignant portent if the reader knows they are leading up to something big. The old woman’s detailed morning routine could either put readers to sleep or on high alert if itemizing the ordinary is a departure from your previous style. Perhaps all that minutiae matters because she is about to murder her mother-in-law. Or maybe her mundane morning trip to the loo is the final moment before a stroke renders her paralyzed, changing her life forever.

Occasionally, I’ll use a scene break to squeeze in a short bit written from some side character’s point of view, not long enough to form its own chapter, but essential to the story. Side characters can offer information that the main character is unaware of, but that the reader wants to know. They can provide opinions, perspective, or local colour that add depth to the story. For example, in my suspense novel, Flicker of Trust, I sprinkle in frequent short scenes at the end of chapters to let readers know how the case against Ryan is stacking up from the POV of a police officer. A cop who is also Ryan’s more qualified rival for Lynnie. I also include a short scene in which the villain’s stepmother is goading Bad Guy to prevent my leading lady from exonerating the leading man as a murder suspect. Besides raising the tension level, this provides a clue to his motivation and hints at the larger crimes the family is involved in.

To offer readers “a break” from rising tension, you can alternate scenes of action with quieter scenes where characters “think about what they’ve done.” Dialogue is an excellent way to have them work out their conflicted souls, convey the new understanding they arrive at, and discuss their plan to move forward.

One of the most effective techniques to add interest is to change the setting. Romances tend to alternate predictably between scenes featuring the two main characters’ points of view. But switch out the surroundings and you have a whole new palette of sensory material for characters to respond to. In my novel Lifelines, Robert is a lonely biologist who spends most of his time in the classroom or at his dismal home. Changing the scene to a feminist English professor’s office allowed me to inject humour at his reactions to her propaganda and interact with her to reveal new aspects of his character.

Modern writing wisdom warns us to beware of lengthy descriptive passages. Yet who can resist the purple prose that presents itself in those late-night moments before falling asleep? I like to slip backstory and other descriptions into a few sentences that add new information. For example, in Flicker, Ryan’s reaction to a kitchen fire that injures his father’s hand triggers thoughts of the housefire that killed Ryan’s mother. “A flash of memory, angry flames against the blackest of nights, his mother rasping and heaving on the snowy ground where she fell…” Remember that the artist’s “rule of three” also applies to writing sentences. Three components –the memory, the flames, and his mother—form a rhythm more pleasing than only two of those, or more than three might do.

While I’ve used examples from a suspense novel, not all books are that dramatic. Yet the same principles apply. Noting minute details can raise tension, alerting readers to impending disaster or simply a new outlook. Differing points of view, varied and unique settings, and alternating between high action and slower-paced reflective scenes can all contribute to a compelling emotional experience for your readers.

      From her home in central Alberta, Canada, Eleanor Bertin writes fiction that ponders the depths of God’s love and mercy to humanity.

She is the author of The Ties That Bind series, Lifelines, Unbound, and Tethered, and the Burning Bright series, Flame of Mercy, Flicker of Trust, and (upcoming) Flare of Doubt. Her memoir, Pall of Silence, is about her late son, Paul. She lives with her husband of 40 years and their youngest son, in what will someday be a beautiful century home. www.eleanorbertinauthor.com