As a writing coach and editor, I find myself – as you’d expect – repeating some types of advice over and over. I’m sure you can imagine the kind of thing: show don’t tell, don’t overload your story opening, etc etc. Today I’m going to talk about two small, innocuous words.
Here’s the first: ‘and’.
Here’s the second: ‘then’.
Put them together, and you may be in trouble.
Let’s start with storytelling technique. Think of a small child, excited as heck, talking about a great day out with the family. The narrative spills out in a breathless rush: ‘We got in the car and then we got out and then we went in and then the first thing I saw was an ice-cream van and there was a man in the park and then Mummy got me an ice cream from the van and it was great. And then … and then … and then …’
Telling a story like this is true to life, of course. We experience events in a sequence of moments, one following another. The child is uttering breathy little exclamations and the enthusiasm is there. So is the desire to be all-encompassing, all-inclusive. Not a single detail is missed out.
What’s the result? How is the listener (wearing an indulgent smile on their face) feeling? Bored, maybe. Impatient. When is the good stuff coming? What are the highlights? Can we cut to them, please?
Watch out for how often you use ‘and then’. It may make sense and it may be logical to tell the story that way, but those two little words kill the thing stone dead. Why is that? They emphasize sequence, but they don’t give any sense at all of a storyline varying its pace or its focus. They don’t give a sense of highs and lows. If life is one damn thing after another, ‘andthennery’ stresses that. Before you know it you’re raising your hand to your mouth to muffle a giant yawn.
When we ask, all eagerness, ‘What happens next?’ we aren’t just talking about sequence. We’re talking about incremental steps: the next level of tension, expectation and drama. Because plots aren’t just one damn thing after another. Plots are shaped by the skill of the writer not just to be sequential but consequential. Actions breed reactions. External factors barge in and mess up the characters’ fine plans. Nothing stays the same. A plot is full of the ebb and flow of tension. It climbs from the plain up through the foothills to the high peaks of drama and resolution.
‘Andthennery’ doesn’t make us hold our breath. ‘Andthennery’ doesn’t make us see dramatic connections. Whenever you find yourself typing the word ‘and’, stop and take a look. What are you joining up here? Two moments or thoughts in the most simple of equations? ‘We went to the park and we bought an ice-cream.’ So what? Where is the plot? Where is the story?
If you add ‘then’ you’re in even worse trouble. One foot in front of the other, plodding along. This happened, then that happened, then the other happened.
Consider how to inject that dramatic interest, that sense of drama. For example, instead of ‘then’, use ‘when’. You’ll immediately create a sense of intrigue and expectation. ‘When we went to the park, I saw a strange man over by the trees who was looking at us while my Mum bought the ice cream.’
Want to know who the man was? Curious about why he is looking at the mother and child? Do you start to wonder whether the mother knows who he is? Has the mother glanced towards him with a tiny shake of her head? What is going on? What is the story here?
That’s what ‘when’ does. It opens up the possibility of consequences. It kicks off the questions in the reader’s head. And it’s not just ‘when’ that does the trick: try ‘but’, ‘however’, ‘therefore’, ‘although’ …
In Part 2 of this post I’ll be taking a look at ‘andthennery’ in a different context. Till then, happy writing!
