Among my friends and family, I make it no secret that I dislike watching action movies.
I don’t hate them, per se, but they’ve never truly interested me. For the longest time, I couldn’t figure out why. It wasn’t until I was watching an Indiana Jones movie—and hating the experience, much to my family’s chagrin—that I recognized the source of my aversion: more often than not, in my experience, the pacing of action movies is severely unbalanced. They’re all action, with little to no reaction, and so on an emotional level they tend to fall flat.
Scenes and Sequels
In general, there are two main types of scene: there are scenes full of action that further the plot, and scenes in which the characters (and reader) pause to regroup and take stock of their emotions. More experienced and renowned writers than I, such as Dwight Swain or Randy Ingermanson, may call these “scenes” and “sequels.”
I find the name of the thing is less important than its definition and, most important of all, its practical use. As a result, I tend to explain them rather simply. “Scenes” are when things happen—this is when the story flows. “Sequels” are when characters react—this is when the story ebbs, pulling back before flowing forward again.
Even more simply put: there is action, and there is reaction, and a good story has both in not-quite-equal measure.
How Are Action and Reaction Scenes Balanced?
Whether or not a story is more action- or reaction-heavy is dependent upon the genre and tone.
If your story is full of action and suspense, obviously action scenes are required. There will be less time for your characters to react before they are tossed from the sizzling frying pan into the crackling fire. Conversely, much of a romance novel is reaction. The characters must feel each other out and learn more about each other and their own complicated feelings.
That said, a romance would be boring without a certain amount of action. (Take that to mean whatever you like—I, personally, am a fan of slow-burn romance, in which a longing glance and sudden realization regarding the romantic interest’s motives serves as action.) Likewise, an action-packed plot grows tiresome if there isn’t space for both the characters and the reader to take a breather every now and then.
This is the trap so many action movies fall into—each scene is full of derring-do, and characters hop from plane to boat to helicopter to explosion without so much as a backward glance, barely able to speak a word to one another all the while. While this is certainly exciting, it leaves something to be desired when it comes to the pace of the plot.
Action scenes, after all, tend to focus more on the progression of the main plot. They keep the audience engaged in the very basics of what happens in the book. This is the spine of your story—but reaction scenes are the meat on those bones. Reactions allow time for characters and readers to process the information they uncover in the action scenes. Reactions also move subplots along, which is a huge part of character development. Subplots provide a multifaceted view of the protagonist. While they may not be directly related to the main plot, subplots show the reader why these specific characters you’ve created are important. This is why your protagonist cannot walk away from the fight or the search or the relationship.
In short, an action scene says what the story is, but a reaction scene says why the story is vital.
(It is important to note that some subplot-supporting scenes are full of action as well. More often than not though, in my limited experience, subplots are a way of forcing the protagonist to take a moment to evaluate their interactions and relationships with others. It is a time to reflect on how they feel about everything that has occurred and will occur under the umbrella of the main plot. This is why many reaction scenes double as scenes that support the progression of one or more subplot[s].)
Addressing Your Novel’s Pacing
Of course, it’s often hard for writers to recognize their action-reaction balance when they’re plodding through the story bit by bit, or revising different pieces at a time. You may find it helpful to read through multiple chapters of your novel together, in order to keep the events in context. If and when you send part of your story to a beta reader or critique partner, it may benefit you to include a question about the pacing. (You can ask about pacing directly, ask if there are any parts where the reader is bored or confused, etc.) This will allow you to go back and look at your story with fresh eyes and an honest opinion during your revisions later.
I’m a plotter by nature, so for me, working on pacing begins before I even start my first draft. I have a spreadsheet detailing every scene in my current draft in chronological order. The columns are broken up into date/time, scene summary, main scene conflict, and other nuggets of information I find useful to have on hand as I write.
Here’s where the magic happens: I color code each scene on my spreadsheet according to the subplot it furthers the most. Then, I can zoom out and see my entire novel at a glance. I use the spots of color to determine if parts of the story are too action-heavy or reaction-heavy, and reorganize scenes accordingly.Generally, in my experience, scenes flow best when I alternate between the two kinds of scenes. Even if one scene is very brief, this allows the action to ebb and flow naturally. No matter if the characters jump from frying pan to fire—there’s still a brief pause when they decide to make the leap. That’s where the reaction fits in.
Let’s use a children’s book as an example—I find myself partial to Kate DiCamillo’s The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane, so we’re going with it. DiCamillo’s book follows a personified, loveless china rabbit (Can you guess his name?) who is lost and ends up meeting all sorts of people from all sorts of backgrounds, suffering tragedy after tragedy and being lost again and again until he grows to understand the power of both love and loss—mostly the former.
Edward’s story follows a set pattern: he meets someone new and is taken under their wing, that person finds comfort in his presence and Edward listens to him/her talk, he begins to harbor affection for said person, and then some horror befalls the pair and they are separated, only for Edward to be picked up by someone else later on. In this book, the pattern becomes clear: Edward is picked up (action). Edward learns more about that person, decides how he feels about him/her (reaction). Edward is lost (action). Edward misses the person from whom he was torn (reaction). Someone else finds Edward (action). Ebb (reaction) and flow (action).
The bottom line is this: readers need to breathe, but only so much. Too many action scenes will move the story too quickly, and your reader will find it hard to follow—or there will be so little emotional growth that your reader won’t feel motivated to keep moving forward. On the other hand, too many reaction scenes bog the plot down, and nothing notable happens at all. The reader might as well have never picked up the book in the first place.
How do you organize your scenes? Do you carefully plot them out, or do you dive headlong into the story and let the characters take the reins? Have you read something recently that you feel was paced well—or maybe not so well? What made it that way? Feel free to share in the comments below—I’d love to hear from you. And, as always, happy writing!
