A good beginning grabs us, a skilful description engages our senses, a cleverly woven plot starts to intrigue us, we are warming to the characters, and then – we realise we have ‘read’ a couple of pages without taking in anything. Think of some books you found all too easy to put aside – that gathered dust beside the bed as you told yourself, ‘I really must finish that.’ What was missing?
Can you think of one that has recently satisfied most of the criteria at the beginning of this chapter, yet still failed to sustain your interest? Find it (if you have not thrown it away in frustration). Look at the first few chapters again. Having reacquainted yourself with it, how would you rate it in terms of:
If the author has got these right, you should feel ‘part of the action’. You would probably have had some physical reactions, however subtle; prickles of uneasiness at the back of the neck, excited flutters in the chest, stirrings in the gut, an ‘oh no’ somewhere in the throat. Chances are, this was what was missing when you gave up on the book in question.
Now choose a book that really got to you – one that had you propping up your eye-lids at 3 a.m. because you just had to know what happened. Rate it on the same three aspects. How does it compare? Think of a film or TV drama that you would rate highly in this respect. Which were the memorable scenes? What was it that made those scenes so memorable? Do you notice any particular physical reactions as you recall them? Think of a TV advertisement or a piece of ‘on-the-spot’ newspaper reporting which you would also rate highly in this way. How was this impact achieved?
We can benefit greatly from studying the way these three elements are handled in a medium other than that for which we are writing. Videos/DVDs of successful screen dramas are particularly useful for this purpose – even more so if you can obtain the script (see page 166 Scripts).
Skilful handling of atmosphere, pace and mood:
Choose a favourite video/DVD and novel to use as references as we work with each of these elements in turn.
A party with a really good atmosphere can ‘take you out of yourself’. A party with no atmosphere has you casting surreptitious glances at your watch, wondering how soon is too soon to leave. It is the same with a story or a book. How do we create an atmosphere that makes people want to stay?
When writers are successful in creating atmosphere, they have probably immersed themselves in the setting (as discussed in Chapter 1). This is the first step. The following exercises help you to look at how experienced writers craft the material generated in this way.
As in the previous chapter, let the surroundings tell their story. If the place we were in could speak, what would its voice be like? What would it say? Choose a tarot card which evokes the same atmosphere as you want to create. Let it represent your setting. Let it speak.
What sort of music would go with this place? Close your eyes and imagine a soundtrack accompanying your opening scenes. Let your inner camera move around the location, focusing on different features and bringing some of them into close-up. Let the soundtrack change and intensify as this occurs. If you have a suitable piece of music, play it as you read your work aloud.
For example, imagine something you own – or something connected with you in some way which is red. Allow it to become really vivid in your imagination. Make it brighter. Make it bigger. Imagine some stirring music to accompany this image. Make it louder. Imagine yourself in a crowd, wearing red, dancing around the object to this music in brilliant sunshine.
Sample themes: gothic, erotic, depressed, elated, Scandinavian, Mediaeval, Monday morning, Christmas, airport, garden fete. Only words which evoke the atmosphere in question are allowed. Use them as suggested in Chapter 3. You could also collect the words in a notebook and use this as a ‘word bank’. Try organising your word bank into themes and brainstorming more words to fit those themes. Alternatively, collect your words at random, open the book and point to them at random. Fate may surprise you with a ‘happy accident’. Or try organising your book alphabetically and playing with word substitutes beginning with the same letter.
Two examples I particularly remember from working with verbs in a word bank were: (describing a military academy) ‘The windows marched across the front of the building’ and (describing the sounds on a farm) ‘The Piglets were crackling in the straw’ – a rather neat double meaning. The first example came from a student who had organised his word book into themes, and had therefore brainstormed every verb he could think of to do with the army. The second was an example of unexpected juxtaposition, resulting from collecting words at random, opening the book and pointing at random.
Another student organised her word bank alphabetically and, in some of her early drafts, experimented with replacing adjectives or verbs which she found uninspiring with others from her word bank beginning with the same letter. Children who previously ran into the play area now ricocheted, while the elderly gentleman who had stepped gingerly through them, now slalomed gamely – a much more lively and memorable image.
To develop a sense of atmosphere:
Imagine your favourite piece of slow music played really fast, or vice versa. Worse, imagine all the music you ever listened to played at the same tempo throughout. Getting the pace just right is extremely important. Handled properly it:
The last point can be a particular stumbling block. No matter how skilful the writing, too much delivered at the same speed can leave us feeling like a refugee from the January sales, or the recipient of a long sermon with no hard pew to keep us awake. Cinema and television with their ever shorter scenes and frequent changes of pace have no doubt influenced our tastes in this respect.
Watch your chosen video/DVD with the above criteria in mind.
Camera movement, actors’ performances and soundtrack all help to set the pace on screen. A novelist, journalist or storywriter has only words on paper through which to convey this vital element. Some writers come unstuck because they recall the fervour or languor with which they wrote, and therefore believe these have been committed to the page.
Masterly handling of pace leaves no doubt as to the author’s intentions. Compare these extracts from Virginia Woolf’s novel The Waves. Read them aloud several times as you study them.
First, the opening:
‘The sun had not yet risen. The sea was indistinguishable from the sky, except that the sea was slightly creased as if a cloth had wrinkles in it. Gradually as the sky whitened a dark line lay on the horizon dividing the sea from the sky and the grey cloth became barred with thick strokes moving, one after another, beneath the surface, following each other, pursuing each other perpetually.’
The rhythm of this extract is like the in and out of the sea itself. It is almost impossible to read it any other way, or to hurry it. How is this achieved?
Later, the early morning sea is described:
‘(The sun)bared its face and looked straight over the waves. They fell with a regular thud. They fell with the concussion of horses’ hooves on the turf. Their sprays rose like the tossing of lances and assegais over the riders’ heads. They swept the beach with steel blue and diamond-tipped water. They drew in and out with the energy, the muscularity, of an engine which sweeps its force in and out again.’
About half-way through the book, the afternoon sea is described:
‘The waves massed themselves, curved their backs and crashed. Up spurted stones and shingle. They swept round the rocks, and the spray, leaping high, spattered the walls of a cave that had been dry before, and left pools inland, where some fish stranded lashed its tail as the wave drew back.’
The vitality of the images in the second two extracts defy us to read them meditatively – but that is just one element of the craftsmanship. Notice the shorter sentences, and the way commas are used to break longer ones into short bites to hurry us along. (What might an inner-critic style English teacher say about commas between ‘swept round the rocks, and the spray, leaping high’, and none in the phrase ‘where some fish stranded lashed its tail’?)
Use of the present participle (‘ing’ suffix), tends to slow down action. In the first extract there are four examples, in each of the others only one. The first extract uses only two images; the cloth and the lines, both of which are introduced slowly. Description is mainly in the passive voice: ‘the sea was indistinguishable … was slightly creased’, ‘the grey cloth became barred’. There is a dreamlike detachment: ‘as if a cloth had wrinkles in it’ rather than ‘like a wrinkled cloth’. Later the sea becomes a cloth and, as in a dream, we do not question it.
In complete contrast, the second and third extracts overflow with vigorously active images, which follow each other rapidly. In the second extract these are highly focused. It is like being overtaken by the cavalry at full charge. We hear hooves, see weapons, riders – with ‘the energy, the muscularity, of an engine’. In the third extract we are thrown from image to image; the waves, stones and shingle, rocks, spray, the walls of a cave. It feels like a performance of the 1812 Overture, complete with manic conductor in danger of being cut off by the tide.
Speech, like writing, is physical. Some sounds are less complex and easier to produce than others. ‘M’, one of the first consonants a baby learns to pronounce, is easy. So are ‘B’ and ‘W’. They use natural lip positions. ‘V’, on the other hand, requires a tricky movement of the lower lip, and may be pronounced as ‘W’ in the early years. ‘K’ and ‘G’ require co-ordination of tongue and soft palate. Short vowel sounds require least work from the larynx.
Most can be ‘grunted’ with lips hanging loose; a – e – u – try it. Long vowels require more effort, and most diphthongs require this effort to be co-ordinated with tongue and lip movement.
Writers need to be aware of these relative complexities because the harder a sound is to make, the longer it takes to pronounce – and this affects pace. Even when we read silently, the brain carries on transmitting ‘how to’ messages to the brain. Some people’s lips move as they read. Most people’s larynxes respond, however subtly.
Because we are accustomed to these physically imposed rhythms, we usually sort them naturally as we write. However, it is good to have them in mind when we analyse our work. ‘Do I need more explosive consonants? Would longer vowel sounds work better here?’ Such ‘brush-strokes’ can make all the difference.
Pace is affected by:
This title is chosen deliberately to express the fact that we cannot adequately convey a character’s mood without experiencing it as we write. We can either start ‘cold’ and let the mood take us over as the words come together, or we can develop the mood within ourselves first and let the words flow from there. Many actors favour the latter approach, drawing on specific personal memories to help them portray emotion on stage. It is this approach that we will be using here, with the aid of guided visualisations.
Before starting, there is an important question to be considered. What do you do with this mood and these emotions afterwards? If the mood is a positive one, you may want to stay with it. If not, you will need to de-role. Sometimes you can do this by firmly stating your name (in other words stating that you are not the character you have been portraying). Turning to some familiar household task or talking to a friend can also help. If the mood has taken over, you may need to repeat the visualisation that took you into it, substituting positive memories for oppressive ones. Revisiting difficult times takes courage. It should be avoided if currently under emotional stress.
Assuming you are not feeling fragile or that the mood you wish to explore is a positive one, the following visualisations should be recorded and worked with in the usual way (see Chapter 2).
Guided visualisation 1: Mood sampling – energetic/tired
Close your eyes. Imagine yourself at the sea on a bracing day in early Summer.
The sun is shining on the sea and it is also quite windy. The waves are crashing in. You can feel the wind whipping spray into your face.
Choose whether you want to go for a swim, or an invigorating walk along the front. Allow this image to fade.
Now turn your attention inwards – perhaps you are feeling a little tired just now – a little low in energy. So just let an image for that tiredness appear.
Let that image talk to you, and tell you how it feels… and what do you reply?
Now let an image for your energy appear … and let that image talk to you …What do you reply? Become tiredness and talk to energy …Switch roles – become energy and reply to tiredness.
Let this conversation between tiredness and energy continue for a while. Switch roles whenever you need to. See what you can discover.
When you are ready, open your eyes and make any notes you need to make.
Guided visualisation 2: Recalling a mood
How is your character feeling at this point in the story? Can you remember a time when you felt like this? Recall it in as much detail as possible. Allow the feelings to increase in intensity.
Where do you feel this most in your body?
Concentrate on this place in your body. Allow the feelings to grow.
How big is this feeling now? What shape is it? What colour?
What kind of weather goes with this feeling? What temperature?
What time of day goes with your feelings? What time of year?
Think of a place that goes well with these feelings.
Allow an image of this place to develop. Explore it. Feel it.
Notice how it smells. What can you hear?
Notice objects the colour of your mood beginning to appear in this place.
And now someone is approaching. They are dressed in this colour.
They are carrying something which symbolises your mood.
Talk to them about it if you want to.
When you are ready, take your leave of this person. Return to the present and make any notes you need to make.
- How are you feeling? Make this the subject of a timed writing.
- De-role if you need to.
Guided visualisation 3: Mood reflected in the environment
Return to the place you explored in Visualisation 2. Give it a voice. Let it describe its feelings. How do you respond?
Search for the object which the person was carrying. Let it too have a voice and speak about its feelings… Let the object and place talk to one another.
Is there anything you would like to say to them? Is any resolution needed? Who, or what could help?
In the distance you see a stranger approaching. Watch them. See how they react to this environment. What happens when they see the object?
Make yourself known to this person and see what happens next.
Let the situation draw to a natural conclusion, return to the present and make any notes you need to make.
Try timed drawing or timed painting – even if you feel you are ‘no good at art’. Draw or paint freely to music for – say – fifteen minutes, then make a note of the moods and feelings this evoked.
Using what you have discovered in this chapter, explore atmosphere and mood further by experimenting with different paces.
Try:
It is important to bear in mind that a character’s mood is likely to affect us as we write. When this happens we should de-role, or do something different which will change our mood, or reverse the entire process by evoking a new mood and writing from that. Writing can sometimes be a lonely occupation and we need to take care of ourselves. Please remember that it is unwise to evoke difficult emotions when under stress.