Transitions: here to there, now to then, him to her

There are times an author, lost in the fullness of her understanding of the story, shortchanges the reader on the transition from time to time, place to place, or person to person. I'm sure you've had the disorienting experience of sailing along in a narrative when you suddenly become lost when the storyteller vaults to an unexpected somewhere/when/one else.

Transitions can -- and often should -- be simple and virtually unnoticeable. At other times, they are a valuable tool for enriching the story by characterizing through description or action.

Here are a couple of examples from manuscripts I've edited.

From here to there examples: (

We start with the character is in her bedroom)

I lie back down, but there's no chance of me going back to sleep now, so I get up and put the kettle on. As I sit down with a cup of tea, Amy appears.

I was okay with this through putting the kettle on, but then. . . Where does she sit down? In her room? In the kitchen? If it's in the kitchen, the writer needs to transition her, to locate her there for the reader. Perhaps dress her -- when she rises, does she put on a robe or clothes? What are they? And tell us if there are sounds of other arousal in the flat, if anyone is in the kitchen or it is blessedly empty, etc. Let us see her in action.

Another "here to there" slip-the characters are in a bedroom:

With no more than a thought, he dressed them both for the banquet. Alex looked down at the beautiful crimson gown and reached up to feel her intricately done hair. Damien's power was so easy to him, so effortless. And yet it was one more difference between the two of them.

Alex said, "I'm going back to my old room, Damien."

"You will not," Damien said, his voice steely. "You will cease this foolishness right now. You forget who is master here," he growled. He grabbed her arm.

He was interrupted by a vampyress who came sailing out of the banquet to catch his arm. Alex eyed the beautiful vampyress and the possessive way she took Damien's arm.

In this case, the author was so eager to get to the coming conflict at the banquet she forgot to transport us there. The fix could be as simple as adding a line break after the first paragraph -- before Alex's dialogue -- and just a little transition: Just outside the banquet room, Alex said, etc.

From time to time example: In another novel, we're at a cock fight, and the roosters have been set loose:

They danced at first, happy to be on their feet as if they'd kiss, but then something within them said "KILL" and they lunged like Spartans with green head feathers, short-handled daggers and form-fitting breast plates. Oooh's and ahh's followed every thrust and bend. Feathers floated away from wounds like wishes from dandelions. Screams and battle-cry cackles sounded out pain and laughter.

The sight of the loser went right through me. A beaten soldier on the battlefield after the last bayonet strike. Lying limp and shaking, pecked to near death, eyes out, broken wings, wounds gaping.

If the writer is going to jump to the end of the fight, we need a time transition. First, an extra line space between the paragraphs is a customary -- and useful -- way to indicate a gap in time. In manuscript form, adding a centered "#" helps clue in the reader, though it may not be needed in printed form.

In this case, I don't even know how long one of these matches lasts. Minutes? An hour? A transition and some information would be good. For instance, even something such as "Twenty bloody minutes later, the sight of the loser etc…" would do wonders for the reader.

From person to person example: Transitions between characters can be simple, or complex. In my most recent work, I moved from one character to another within a chapter, but carefully -- in my view, head-hopping should be avoided at all costs.

The first thing I did was establish a convention within my manuscript for shifting from one point of view to another. It was a line break with three asterisks centered. Every time the reader saw that, they knew point of view was about to change.

To make the shift seamless, I worked hard at tying the action of one character to the other so the scene seemed to flow continuously even though there was a pov break. Here's an example (I've trimmed considerable material that would take too much explaining):

I mount the steps and come upon a narrow man in a black overcoat. The man aims a small video camera my way. As I turn my face away I see his lips move, and the wind carries his words to my ear.

He says, "I think I got one."

I pause and look behind me. No thing of interest is there. Shielding my face with my scarf, I shift my gaze to the man, and he jerks the camera away to pan across the front of the Art Institute. I believe that he seeks to conceal his purpose.

But what does it matter? It can have nothing to do with me.

* * *

"Lieutenant!" The whispered word shivers in KB Volmer's earpiece. "I think I got one."

Oh, damn, not now! Not right in the middle of --

"Lieutenant, where are you?"

KB isn't about to tell him she's enthroned on the john. "Ah, lower level, Michigan Avenue side." Her voice sounds too high, and she wonders if he'll figure out why it echoes.

The whisper comes again. "Damn, it's looking at me."

She snaps into focus. There's only one thing he can be talking about.

He says, "Okay, it's going inside."

Here the two points of view flow together smoothly by moving from one to the other at virtually the same point during action they are both experiencing -- the behavior of the narrow man on the steps, with the two characters linked by hearing the same words spoken by the man with the camera.

For what it's worth.

Ray

Free edit in exchange for posting permission. You send a sample that you have questions about and of which you'd like an edit. I won't post it without your permission.

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© 2006 Ray Rhamey