CHAPTER BEGINNINGS: Turtle in Paradise (Post #4)

Dear Sleuths,

My intention for today’s post was to write about the way Jennifer Holm incorporates historical details such as references to Shirley Temple and Little Orphan Annie into Turtle in Paradise. Author of six historical novels, including two Newbery Honors, Holm has mastered the fine art of balancing enough detail to set a scene while not overwhelming readers with too much research.

However, we have written a lot about historical fiction over the last few months, and as I flipped back through Turtle in Paradise, something else caught my eye: the way Holm begins each chapter with a short transitional paragraph before launching into action.

Chapters are an interesting element of structure and form in that they exist in all novels, but they warrant minimal discussion in craft books. When chapters do show up in a writing book as a subject, it’s usually in reference to chapter endings. Here’s an example from the book Scene & Structure by Jack Bickham:

You end chapters at places which will hook readers. You do not devise your chapters to provide convenient blank spaces in between them for purposes of transition. (p. 118)

Multiple writing experts reiterated the fact that chapters should not end when characters go to sleep! A hook must be in place at the end of a chapter to propel readers forward. (For more about suspense and chapter endings, refer to Allyson’s April post about Blackbringer by Laini Taylor.)

But what about those chapter beginnings? What is their function? Is it the same as the opening of the book? Allyson’s last post on the narrative hook analyzed how the first chapter of Turtle in Paradise hooks readers with the Four Ws (Who is the story about, where is it set, when does it take place, and what is going on?). Jessica Page Morrell, author of Between the Lines: Master the Subtle Elements of Fiction Writing, has a slightly different take on beginnings:

All beginnings matter. Stories, scenes, and chapters cannot simply commence; they must create a tingle in the reader, pique curiosity, and thrust the story and readers ahead with potency and punch. (p. 39)

The chapter openings in Turtle in Paradise both pique the reader’s curiosity and propel them forward. Let’s take a look at an example from chapter eight.

Maybe it’s because it’s only ever been Mama and me, but I don’t understand what’s so wonderful about having a big family. Someone’s always fighting, or not talking to someone else, or scrounging around trying to borrow money. Far as I can tell, relations are nothing but trouble. (p. 72)

What are the elements at work in this paragraph?

1.     Character development. The first thing that strikes me about this paragraph is how much it reveals about character. It gives me a clear sense of how Turtle feels about living in close quarters with her extended family.

2.     Voice. Here is another example of narrative voice in action, complete with attitude, opinion, and patterns of speech (“Far as I can tell…”).

3.     Pacing. The paragraph provides a moment of pause, a break between the action that wrapped up in the previous chapter and the action that’s about to start.

4.     Creating questions. Turtle’s attitude makes me wonder why she feels this way. What’s happening with her family? What kind of trouble are we in for?

And so I keep on reading, quickly transitioning from Turtle’s thoughts to the action taking place in this chapter. My curiosity is piqued, and off Turtle and I go.

All but two of the chapters in Turtle in Paradise begin in similar ways. And what’s really neat, if you’ll forgive the term, is the way I as a reader start to feel the rhythm and style of the story. After a while, I can’t wait to hear Turtle’s latest thoughts, such as this one from chapter thirteen:

In my opinion, the fellas who make Hollywood pictures are really just salesmen. Instead of peddling girdles, they sell thrills and chills, and folks eat them up. Not me, though. I’m no sucker. I know there’s no such thing as giant apes climbing skyscrapers or mummies walking out of tombs. But just try telling that to the boys. (p. 123)

Another revealing opinion. Another great transition.

I want to return to the question of chapter endings and the hook or question that propels the reader forward. Some books, such as the Goosebumps series or the more recent 39 Clues series, end chapters with big cliffhangers. Readers flip the page, dying to know who’s behind the door or what happened when the lights went out.

But some books don’t have big cliffhanger chapter endings. Books such as The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate tend to be more episodic, keeping action contained within chapters. On the scale between Goosebumps and Calpurnia Tate, Turtle in Paradise probably falls toward the middle: sometimes the action ends with the chapter, and sometimes the chapter ends without resolving the conflict, leaving the reader to wonder what happens next.

When chapters do end with resolution (the cat is banished, Slow Poke pays Turtle), then the next chapter opening absolutely must act as a hook to pull the reader into a new scene and new set of action, as happens in Turtle in Paradise.

StorySleuths Tip #95: A strong chapter opening is so much more than a simple point of transition: it can reveal character, develop voice and, like a hook at the end of a chapter, propel the reader forward.

Post #5: A Word from Jennifer Holm

THE NARRATIVE HOOK: Turtle in Paradise (Post#3)

Dear Fellow Sleuths ,


Well, I should really have started off this post, as it has to do with the beginning. It’s about the way the author successfully grabs you and makes you want to read more. In her book What’s Your Story, Marion Dane Bauer says:

The beginning of your story has one primary job: to capture your readers’ attention so they will want to go on reading. A narrative hook will do this for you. It will grab your readers and pull them into your story.(70)

The narrative hook, she says, is simply your story problem. It is the reason you’re writing the book, and the reason that your readers are going to stick with it—they want to see how that problem is solved, especially if they’ve come to like the character and want to see her succeed.

A quick word about “the beginning”. What is that? By when do you need to hook your reader? By the first line? The first paragraph or page? In her book The Writer’s Guide to Crafting Stories for Children, Nancy Lamb says, “At the most you’ve got two or three pages to hook the reader”. (35)

A couple of days ago I was chatting to a friend who’d just had a manuscript consultation with an editor at Henry Holt. The editor commented that my friend was trying too hard to get the story problem out there in the first few sentences of the story. My friend explained that she was trying to hook the reader. The editor assured her that if the writing is solid, and the story compelling, you have a few pages to do that. The first sentence, while engaging, doesn’t need to be the hook.

That said, it doesn’t hurt to have a riveting first sentence. In Turtle in Paradise, Jennifer Holm succeeds in writing a first sentence that makes you buckle up your seatbelt and strap in tight because you know you’re in for an exciting ride:

Everyone thinks kids are sweet as Necco Wafers, but I’ve only lived long enough to know the truth: kids are rotten. The only difference between grown-ups and kids is that grown-ups go to jail for murder. Kids get away with it. (3)

I love that! But while it pulls me into the story, is it the narrative hook? Does it tell me Turtle’s problem? Do I read that and know that she is a kid who’s being forced to leave home and take up roots in a strange place with people she doesn’t know? No, but it does give me an inkling that there are kids in her world who cause problems for her and for others, and she’s not very happy about it. The fuller problem is revealed over the course of the first chapter. But what this opening line DOES do is intrigue me and make me want to read more.

Marion Dane Bauer recommends that those first few pages in which you reveal the narrative hook contain what she calls the four Ws. Here is how they play out in Turtle in Paradise:

WHO is the story about?

Within several paragraphs we know who the main character is. She’s a young girl living in the depression era, and times are tough. Within a couple of pages we know her name is Turtle and she’s ten. Referring back to Heather’s recent post about voice—we know Turtle is snarky -– “I’m not sweet,” I said. “I slugged Ronald Caruthers when he tried to throw my cat in the well, and I’d do it again”. (5)  

WHERE is it set?

Within several pages we know that Turtle is on her way to Key West to stay with her Aunt Minerva.

WHEN is it taking place?

Page 1 of the novel bears the words, June 1935. But even without those specifics, we know from story details that the story is set in an earlier time. They’re driving in a Ford Model A and travelling on a road that kicks ups dust. The pickup truck in front of them is piled with belongings (an iron bed, a rocking chair) and children who are clearly not wearing seatbelts. The baby in that truck has bloomers tied on her head to keep the sun out of her eyes.

Aside from era, we know the story takes place during summer by Turtle’s description of sticking to the car’s leather seats, the dusty road, the baby with the sun in her eyes.

WHAT is going on?

Within several pages we know what the story is about. We’ve seen the mean kids Turtle has had to deal with. We’ve met slick Archie and vulnerable Mama. We know that on Turtle’s journey she’s going to hit a few bumps in the road—literally and figuratively.


StorySleuths’ Tip #94: Create a story beginning users won’t be able to resist by opening with an intriguing first line, getting your narrative hook out there within a few pages and remembering to reveal Marion Dane Bauer’s Four Ws.


Post #4: Chapter Beginnings


Posted by Allyson Valentine Schrier

NARRATIVE VOICE: Turtle in Paradise (Post #2)

Dear Sleuths,

How many times have you been at a writer’s conference where an editor says, “I’m looking for books with voice”? The editor might use the phrase distinctive narrative voice or authentic voice. Then, when pressed to explain what distinctive narrative voice is, the editor sheepishly shrugs and says, “It’s hard to explain, but I know it when I see it.”

Sometimes, it feels like there is an entire sense of secrecy built up around the concept of voice. You hear about it all the time, but no one seems to agree on what it is or how to get it. Here is a quotation I found in one of my writing books:

A strong, distinctive, authoritative writing voice is something most fiction writers want—and something no editor or teacher can impart. (p. 128, Self-editing for Fiction Writers)

Well, when I read Jennifer Holm’s book Turtle in Paradise, I thought to myself, “Here is a clear example of a distinctive and authentic narrative voice. I see it!” But what is that voice? How did Holm create it? Turns out, those editors weren’t lying. It is hard to explain.

Let’s start with a description of voice (note, I did not use the word definition). Author K. L. Going compares narrative voice to people’s actual voices: 

Our word choices and speech patterns reveal who we are, where we’re from, and what we’re thinking…. The same is true for narrative voice. Your narrator can be revealed by what he chooses to say and how he says it. (p. 113, Writing and Selling the YA Novel)

A way of seeing

Eleven-year-old Turtle, who narrates the story, “sees things for what they are,” and she has no qualms speaking her mind. Take this commentary at the beginning of chapter twelve: 

Everyone’s always saying that hard times bring out the best in people, but as far as I can tell, the only thing that hard times brings out is plain meanness. I left my shoes outside on the front porch last night, and some rotten kid stole them (p. 113). 

She has her own perspective on the world, one that’s informed by her experiences, and she has no problem disagreeing with what “everyone says.”

Favorite phrases

The example above includes a couple of Turtle’s favorite phrases of speech, notably “as far as I can tell” and “rotten kids.” She also likes to say “it’s a fact,” “from where I’m sitting,” and “in my opinion.” Turtle has lots of opinions, and she shares them with authority and confidence. Returning to Going’s description of voice, Holm uses word choice and speech patterns to reveal Turtle’s character.

Metaphorically speaking

Given Turtle’s “see things for what they are” attitude, you might guess that the voice of the novel is plain and straightforward. It’s not. While Turtle is cynical and at times jaded, she’s also sassy and witty, with a wry sense of humor. She comes up with unique metaphors to explain her take on events and people. For example, 

Mama’s always falling in love, and the fellas she picks are like dandelions. One day they’re there, bright as sunshine—charming Mama, buying me presents—and the next they’re gone, scattered to the wind, leaving weeds everywhere and Mama crying. (p. 6) 

Metaphors such as this appear throughout the book, enriching the narrative with distinctive imagery and pleasing comparisons.

It’s important to note that the metaphors in the book fit with Turtle’s experiences and era. For example, about her mother, Turtle says, “’Mama’s head is so high in the clouds, I’m surprised she doesn’t bump into Amelia Earhart’” (p. 94). Every kid in 1935 knew about Amelia Earhart. It’s the perfect comparison, both showing us how crazy Turtle thinks Mama is as well as reflecting the time period of the book.

Gee, that's swell

While helping to reveal character, narrative voice also helps build a sense of the book’s time period and setting. The kids in the Diaper Gang don’t say things like “That’s cool,” or “That rots.” They say “gee whiz” and “aww.” Words such as fella, gotta, dough, gang, swell, folks, mama, and sugar all sound appropriate—even authentic—to the 1930s.

They call it banter

In fact, as I read Turtle in Paradise, I couldn’t help but think about a few classic Katherine Hepburn movies such as “Bringing up Baby” or “The Philadelphia Story.” It was more than the choice of appropriate words and historical details such as references to Little Orphan Annie. It was the wittiness of dialogue. Here’s Slow Poke and Turtle after Slow Poke rescues Turtle from the water.

“I thought you said you could swim like a fish,” Slow Poke chides me.

“A dead one,” I say, and cough.

“Honey,” Slow Poke says, shaking his head, “dead fish float.” (p. 68)

Slow Poke might be late to everything, but he’s got a quick wit, as do all the characters in Turtle in Paradise. This smart dialogue, which often ends on a perfect zinger, contributes to the overall narrative voice.

Short story writer Sylvia Watanabe wrote an essay on voice in the book Creating Fiction. After analyzing a story by Flannery O’Connor, Watanabe tried to “identify the specific aspects of a story’s voice.” These aspects, she says, include:

choice of genre, articulation of point of view, treatment of exposition and dialogue, selection of detail, use of language… and the handling of sonics (the sound and rhythm of the prose). Voice, it would seem, abides everywhere in the story. (p. 202)

Perhaps therein lies the issue: voice abides everywhere in the story. I saw one person summarize voice as “what you write and how you write it.” It’s the combination of word choice, attitude, phrases of speech, regional or historical details, and patterns of speaking.

The combination of all these elements in Turtle in Paradise work together to create a distinctive narrative voice.

StorySleuths Tip #93: When writing and revising, look for ways to use distinctive words, metaphors, dialogue, details and patterns of speech, as well as opinions and attitude, to enrich a story’s narrative voice.


Post #3: The Narrative Hook

CREATING MEMORABLE CHARACTER NAMES: Turtle in Paradise

Dear Fellow Sleuths,

Whether or not you have finished reading Jennifer Holms’ marvelous book, Turtle in Paradise, you’ve likely already noticed the brilliant job she’s done choosing character names. There’s Turtle, the endearing main character. Slow Poke, a secondary character who plays a large role in Turtle’s life. Turtle’s cat, Smokey, who’s unfortunate name was chosen, prophetically, before her tail was ever set on fire. In choosing names such as these, Holm has honored several rules concerning the naming of characters. First, she has assigned names that are both memorable and fun, and that will appeal to her intended readership. Second, the character names have meaning. Consider Turtle, tough on the outside, but soft and vulnerable beneath, who literally comes out of her shell as the story evolves, discovering aspects of self and family. And the ever-tardy Slow Poke, who, upon learning that his true love, Sadiebelle has gotten married, comments, “Huh—too late again.”


Following another rule, Holm has been careful to select names that reflect the time in which the story takes place. When the story opens and Turtle is reminiscing about the kids that have made her life miserable, she mentions Josephine, Sylvia and Marvin—not Caitlyn, Maddie and Aidan. It turns out that if you do the math, these characters would have been born in 1923 (they are 12 and the story is set in 1935). Referring to the US Government’s Social Security site I found that in 1923 all three of these names appeared on that year’s top 100 baby names list. And looking at statistics for 1905 (around when I thought Aunt Minnie would have been born) I found that the name Minnie was #35 on the popularity chart for that year.


Holm has also taken care to choose character names that reflect the story’s location. In her Author’s Note, she points out that nicknaming was a tradition in Key West. She gives the Key West local residents names that are in keeping with that tradition. There’s the pair of best buddies Beans and Pork Chop, the baby Pudding, and the calamitous friend they all avoid, Too Bad.


We contacted Jennifer Holm (who wins the blue ribbon for Author Quickest to Reply to a StorySleuth’s Email!) and asked her a couple of questions about how she chose names for Turtle in Paradise:

StorySleuths: All the names in Turtle in Paradise shine with originality. Would you share a few thoughts about how you came up with the names you used in this book? Also, was it an intentional choice to have Turtle and Slowpoke have names that one can draw a strong connection between?


Holm: That's a great question. So ... "Turtle" was actually a nod to the historic turtling industry of Key West (green turtle soup, anyone?) Some of the names were inspired by Key West nicknames ("Beans" and "Johnny Cakes" and "Killie the Horse"). There's a man who grew up in KW who actually went around and catalogued peoples' nicknames. "Pork Chop" just sort of grew out of Beans (Pork Chop and Beans--they just go together!) "Papa" was actually Ernest Hemingway's local KW nickname. And finally, "Slow Poke" was more of a little tease for the reader to understand that he's always been chronically late ... and that sometimes being late has big consequences.

More on Choosing Names


There are plenty of web sites that offer tips about how to choose names. Two that I found to be particularly useful are the Tips for Writers section of the Baby Names website, and Anne Marble’s article Name That Character! at the Writing-World website. 


And where do you go to choose names that help make your characters come to life on the page? I recall a lecture I attended years ago in which Jack Gantos shared one of his sources—graveyards. But you don’t need to walk amongst the dead to find terrific names for your characters, as there are fun and informative sites available online to both look for names, or generate your own.


The Baby Names site offers lists sorted not just by boy and girl, but even has a “cool names” option with categories like spooky names, names in sports, and top pet names. And there is the Social Security website already mentioned which not only lists popular names for a particular birth year, but can show you how a particular name has waxed and waned in popularity over time.


To generate names, take a look at A Barrel Full of Names, or The Seventh Sanctum name generator which generates names for specific categories like your fantasy character, your gnome or your princess.

StorySleuths Tip #92: When choosing character names do your research and choose names that are not only fun and meaningful, but that also reflect the time and location in which the story takes place.


Post #2: Narrative Voice


Posted by Allyson Valentine Schrier

Happy September!

Dear StorySleuths Readers,

All across the country, children are heading back to school. Summer vacation is over! We hope you had lots of time to read while at the beach, the pool, or in the backyard.

We'll be hanging on to summer a bit longer in our upcoming September read, Turtle in Paradise by Jennifer L. Holm. It's the story of an eleven-year-old girl sent to live with relatives in Key West, Florida. If you haven't yet read Turtle in Paradise, grab it for Labor Day weekend! It's a humorous, fast-paced tale, the perfect book for the last official weekend of summer.

We will be hitting a milestone here at StorySleuths at the end of September: our first year of blogging! We've read eleven middle grade and young adult novels, plus looked at eight picture books, uncovering 90 writing tips along the way.

As we plan for the next year, we thought it would be great to know a little bit more about you, our readers. Would you take a few minutes to tell us who you are, what you like about StorySleuths, and what you'd like to see in the future? You could either leave us a comment below, or if you prefer, complete a short survey (guaranteed not to take longer than three minutes!).

We're sad to announce that Meg has decided to take a leave of absence in the coming months. She has been an invaluable member of the StorySleuths team. Her schedule is booked this fall, however, due to teaching commitments. Hopefully, she'll grab her magnifying glass and join us from time to time.

In the meantime, have a wonderful Labor Day weekend! We look forward to discussing Turtle in Paradise after the holiday. (Oh, and for those of you who like to read ahead, we'll be looking at Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief in October. What makes it such an engrossing read? One that kids just can't put down? We can't wait to find out.)

Heather and Allyson

Interview with Karen Cushman: Alchemy and Meggy Swann (Post # 7)

We StorySleuths are delighted that Karen Cushman, in addition to being a gifted and prolific writer, is an articulate speaker about her own writing process. Having heard her present at the SCBWI Western Washington SCBWI May meeting, we—along with many others—hope that at some point she will write a book about writing for children. In the meantime, we asked her to respond to some questions about writing Alchemy and Meggy Swann, and she graciously agreed.

1. In your May presentation, you described your writing process as “getting the character from here to there.” You mentioned that on occasion you go back and add action to liven the story up, and we are wondering if you can think of an example where you added action to the story of Meggy to “liven it up.”

The scene in the print shop where the fine gentleman talks to Meggy about the baron and her ballad was at first a short, straightforward give-and-take, but there was no tension or drama in it. Adding more confrontational dialogue and a few actions and gestures heightened the sense of danger and Meggy's anxiety and made the scene much more lively.

2. In the webcast about your writing that was recorded at TOPS school in Seattle in May [NOTE to StorySleuths readers—unfortunately the interview is no longer available online], you mentioned that you find the names of your characters in many sources, including your imagination. One source you mentioned is a book about a queen’s expenses and the names of the trades people recorded there. As a “Meg myself, I’m wondering if Meggy had any special connotations for you? I also wonder if her surname intentionally echoes the image of the ugly ducking who becomes a beautiful swan?

Here's the first answer I wrote to this question: "I wish had thought of the duckling to swan metaphor. I might have made more of it. But I didn't. I played around with ideas for the main characters name to see what sounded and fit her best. She was Bessie Blount at first and progressed through many alterations until I hit upon Meggy Swann. I

liked the sound of it, and Meggy was born." But then I found this comment in an interview I gave about a year ago: "She was Bessie Blunt and then Meggy Blunt and then as I wrote about her, the idea of an ugly duckling growing to be a swan led me to Swann." So there you are. You cannot trust a fiction writer. We make up stories even when we're trying to tell the truth. So which is truth and which the story? Ah, that's another question.

3. You have done a fantastic job of creating characters that are memorable and distinct. Did you have a clear picture of Meggy before you started writing, or did she evolve as the story unfolded?

Meggy definitely grew and changed as the story unfolded. Somewhere about a year into it, I titled a draft "Feisty Meggy," and it was there that I began to make her less meek and pliable and more like the Meggy we know.



And her wabbling came about because she had to have a big, serious, important reason to want to be transformed. I began to research types of disabilities. I had to know exactly what was wrong with Meggy, even though she didn't. I decided she had bilateral hip dysplasia, looked into the effects of that, and practiced walking the way she might have in order to describe it as accurately as I could.

4. What changes and revisions in the text did your editor suggest? Were there changes that your editor suggested that you both decided, after considering them, not to make in the final text?

Dinah thought there should be more focus on romantic feelings between Meggy and Roger. "After all," she said, "Juliet was only 13." Ah, said I, but Juliet is fiction. And I quoted extensively from academic sources that estimated the average age of marriage in the Elizabethan era at 26 for men and 23 for women. Men, after all, had to be able to support a wife and family. And celibacy was the only truly effective means of birth control. So Dinah, with a sigh, gave in.



But she prevailed in her suggestion that I cut some of the description. I wanted to use rollicking, roiling words to describe every house, person, business, piece of flotsam or jetsam in the crazy, chaotic city. She convinced me that enough was enough.



And see also the answer to question 7.

5. There are such rich details in Alchemy and Meggy Swann that set the character very firmly in Elizabethan London. We are curious about the kind of research you did to accomplish this. Did the story change in any way as a direct result of the research you did?

In one of the books I was reading about Elizabethan England, I found references to the vagabond laws. I did more research on them and discovered that even players might be considered vagabonds or outlaws if they did not have some noble patron. And so Grimm and Merryman's troubles were born.



And in another book I found the term "dancing house." More research. I decided to add such a place to the narrative and that led eventually to Meggy's desire to dance and, at the very end, Meggy dancing.



6. Was there is a particular element of writing craft that you struggled with, and if so, how did you overcome it?



Plot. Always plot. I read about writing graphs and narrative arcs and such tools for enlivening a plot. They never seem to fit the story I am trying to tell. I seem to wallow in character and setting and struggle with a plot, with telling versus withholding, with hero versus adversary. I don't think I ever really overcome it. I take my characters and put them into a setting, lay out the trajectory of the story, and go.

7. As writers ourselves we often find ourselves going down a path in the story only to find out that it is not a place that enriches the story as we had hoped and so we cut it. Were there any scenes you wrote that you really loved, but they just didn't fit into the story?

I cut, not without a few tears, the first two chapters, which dealt with Meggy at her village home, the ride into London with her kindly Uncle Ott, and her first impressions of the town. Like this, when they begin to cross the bridge into London: [quote]

What woke her was the stink, a sour stew of fish, sewage, horses, and sweat. Short of Hell, she wondered, what kind of place would smell like this?

Or was it the cursing coming from her uncle on the wagon seat beside her...The wheels as they turned churned the mud and cow droppings on the bridge into a great mucky sludge.

No, it was the muck that woke her, she thought. Certes it was the muck, a wad of which flew up and hit her cheek. Yes, definitely the muck. She wiped her face with her skirt and looked around at the people, animals, and wagons crowded about me. “Is this London then, Uncle?” she asked.

“Ah, no, Meggy, my heart’s love, my lily-faced poppet,” said my uncle. “’Tis but the bridge, the gateway to the wonders that are London.”

“Somewhat unwholesome wonders belike, Uncle,” she said as the turning wheels splashed more muck onto her.[end quote]

Dinah convinced me this all was backstory and the story really started with Meggy in the little house in London bemoaning her fate,

8. Could you share one Writing Tip that you learned in the process of writing Alchemy and Meggy Swann?

Bring action to description. Don't just paint a picture of a scene but put someone doing something into it. Early on, for example, I had many paragraphs describing peddlers on the crowded streets of London. It was great description but lifeless. When I lessened the number of peddlers and had them move and shout and interact with Meggy, they came to life.

Thank you, Karen. For more information about Karen and her books, visit her website.

StorySleuths Tip # 91: With thanks to Karen Cushman: “Bring action to description. Don’t just paint a picture of a scene but put someone doing something into it.”

TRANSITIONS: Alchemy and Meggy Swann (Post # 6 of 6)

Dear Heather and Meg,


In my own writing I am working on transitions—how do I smoothly cut from one scene to another within a chapter? How do I keep my transitions from bogging down the pacing? Here, I will point out a couple of techniques I noticed in reading Alchemy and Meggy Swann.

#1 Passage of time sets up a transition

On page 12, Meggy has been left by Roger to spend her first night in the skinny house at Crooked Lane. The encounter between Roger and Meggy ends when she, “pulled her cloak over her head and settled back into her nightmares.

The very next paragraph opens with, “Morning came at last, as it ever does.” From here Meggy goes on to experience her second day in London. By having Meggy fall asleep, then wake up, Cushman sets up for a transition from one scene to the next. She does this same thing again on page 34, where one scene ends with, “She slept again, feeling not quite so alone. And thus ended Meggy’s second day in the house at the Sign of the Sun.” The next scene begins with, “She woke to soft rain.” This quick switch from night to day prepares the reader for a change in scene while keeping the story moving forward.

#2 Change in location sets up a transition

When writing a first draft, when I want my character to move to a new location for a new scene, I find that I often show the physical movement from Point A to Point B. This movement serves to interrupt the story's pacing, slowing things down. Cushman demonstrates that the movement is not necessary—just put the character on scene in whatever the next location is. Here, on page 89, Meggy is at Master Allyn’s print shop. The scene ends with, “Meggy bade them farewell, left them to their troubles, and went home to her own.”

A less experienced writer might feel a need to show Meggy hobbling for home, perhaps tossing in a little inner dialogue or conversations with strangers along the way. Instead, Cushman’s next sentence is on scene in the next location:

Her father was seated at the table, a jug of ale before him. He looked up at her, his eyes as flat and black and cold as bits of coal in his pale face.

Another example takes place on page 141, where Meggy is home alone, confronted with just how sorry her lot in life is:

She blubbered and sniveled. Finally, damp and exhausted, she wiped her nose, tied her linen cap on tighter, and hurried from the house. There was one thing she could remedy.

The next paragraph opens:

She pounded the bear’s iron paw against the Grimms’ front door, but no one answered.

Here again, Cushman doesn’t waste time showing the character moving from Point A to Point B, instead she simply puts the character on location and keeps the story flowing.

StorySleuths’ Tip # 90: To change scenes mid chapter consider a quick shift in time or location to move the story forward without slowing down the pacing.