*Pinch* Are You Awake?
By Anne Brown | November 30, 2016 |
Photo by alq666
We all have an inherent sense of story. There is an expected rhythm to it, like breathing, and we notice when that rhythm gets interrupted. This is why we give up on a novel we’re reading because it’s moving too slowly, or why we are dissatisfied with an ending because it felt too rushed.
I had the pleasure earlier this month to present at Writer Unboxed’s Unconference in Salem, Massachusetts. One of my topics was “Wrangling with Plot,” to correspond with my essay in Author in Progress. Rather than focus on the three-act plot structure that, perhaps, we have all heard too much about. I attempted to focus my remarks on the pacing of those three acts so that they resonate well with modern-day audiences’ expectations. In other words, while you want your plot to surprise, to inspire, and to get readers thinking about things in new and interesting ways, the pacing of that plot, the delivery of that message, is often best received when it has a certain anticipated rhythm.
If you are getting comments from agents, editors, or even readers that the story is “hard to get into” or “moves too slowly,” then you are likely dealing with a pacing problem. Your story is not beating in rhythm with the pulse of the modern-day audience and that lack of rhythm can, no doubt, be unsettling.
Generally speaking, the basic rhythm of a plot is created by an inciting incident that occurs no later than 25% of the way through the novel, an “all is lost” moment at 50%, and your protagonist’s final crisis at about the 75% mark. Of course, these percentages aren’t gospel; they are merely a guide.
The movie Brooklyn is an example of story with a solid beat. It’s the story of an Irish girl (Eilis Lacey) who emigrates to America in 1951 with the goal of becoming a real American. Even though Eilis is passive and makes few decisions for herself, the movie still resonates. I submit that it does so because it beats in synchronicity with our inherent story pulse.
For example, Eilis gets on the ship to start her journey (inciting incident) at the 15% mark. As the story progresses and she creates a new life for herself (including marrying her Italian-American boyfriend, Tony), her sister Rose dies at the 55% mark. This “all is lost” moment inspires Eilis to return to Ireland to assist her mother through the transition. When Eilis returns to Ireland, she finds opportunities that had not existed for her when she left. These opportunities cause her to question whether she’ll ever return to America, to Tony, and to her new life. At the 75% mark she is boxed into a corner and forced to decide once and for all whether she is going to be an Irish girl, or an American.
But in addition to the pacing of these three classic beats, Brooklyn illustrates the effective use of another set of pulses or plot beats. These are the beats known as “pinch points,” which are reminders-––for the reader’s benefit––of the conflict that threatens to stymie the main character’s progress toward his or her ultimate goal.
Pinch points appear most effectively at the points halfway between the inciting incident and the “all is lost” moment (37%), as well as halfway between the “all is lost” moment and the final crisis (62%). Their purpose is to wake the reader up, to re-focus the reader’s attention on the dark threat that is lingering in the background and, thus, to maintain the tension during the long (long) second act.
Pinch points may be entire scenes, but they could be as simple as a single sentence. Furthermore, because pinch points are for the reader’s benefit, the reminder could be made directly to the protagonist, but it could just as easily occur while the protagonist is off-stage and completely unaware. For example, a pinch point may come as:
- a foreshadowing of an upcoming major event;
- a symbol (for example, the Deathly Hollows symbol that keeps showing up throughout Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows);
- a newspaper headline the protagonist sees as he/she is walking down the street;
- a missing person poster hung on a lamp post;
- a scene where Dr. Evil plots the protagonist’s messy demise;
- a dream that wakes the protagonist up from a sweat-drenched sleep.
In Brooklyn, between Eilis’s journey to America and her sister Rose’s death, there is a pinch point scene in Ireland where Rose is tearfully reading a letter from Eilis. From the viewer’s perspective, we are refocused on the dark force of homesicknesses and the separation of the sisters. It’s not until later that we realize the pinch point has foreshadowed their permanent separation. Later in the movie, after Eilis has returned to Ireland and has become re-established in Irish society, the second pinch point is a scene back in Brooklyn where her husband Tony is writing her a letter and worrying that she’ll never return. Both scenes occur outside of Eilis’s knowledge. They are solely for the audience’s benefit.
Haven’t seen Brooklyn? Another example of well-used pinch points appears in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. The first pinch point comes when Harry, Ron, and Hermione are attacked by a troll. It reminds the reader that the castle is not an impenetrable fortress. It also informs the characters that they are stronger as a unit against the dangers within than they are as individuals. The second pinch point comes between the midpoint and final crisis (in a scene outside of Harry’s consciousness) where Snape is seen muttering a curse to cast Harry off his broom during a Quidditch match. Even as Harry is celebrated as “the youngest seeker in a century,” the reader is reminded that dark forces are afoot and not to get too comfortable in Harry’s success.
What are some more memorable pinch points from your favorite books? How have you used pinch points in your own writing to maintain solid pacing?
Anne Greenwood Brown got her start as a traditionally published author of young adult paranormal and contemporary romance. Currently, she is a USA Today bestselling author of adult paranormal and contemporary romance (both traditional and indie) under the pen name AS Green . For more information see the Contributor tab. You can also follow her on Facebook , Instagram , and TikTok .
In Alan Furst’s Mission To Paris, the main character is a 1930s Hollywood movie star caught up in a game of espionage. During one spectacular pinch point he is invited to visit Nazi Berlin where he is fawned over by the high command who want to use him in German cinema. During his trip, the main character realizes how hard it’ll be to say no to their offer.
I’m a big Alan Furst fan. Good to know there’s another Unboxer who reads him.
Ditto
Now I’ve got to check this one out!
*And Thank You Anne for the post.*
Excellent! Printing this one out. Thank you!
Very interesting, Anne. As a pantser, I seldom devote conscious thought to things like this, but your examples are persuasive. I suspect I’ll keep an eye out for these opportunities in my current WIP. Devices such as this “feel” artificial or manipulative to me, but I’m slowly becoming more open to the possibility that they can contribute. Thanks a ton.
I don’t see it as a “device,” per se. Even as a pantser, you’re likely doing this instinctively. It’ the *placement* of these moments I’m getting at, which I don’t see as “artificial.” However, I have no problem with you accusing me of manipulating a reader’s emotions!!! In fact, I revel in it. : ) Ha!
I think you’re right, Anne. We do it instinctively. I pulled my novel off the shelf and checked the ‘markers’. I had pinch points pretty much where they needed to be. I suspect that when you read a lot you absorb those little details without realizing it.
Thank you for the reminder, Anne. I loved your talk at the conference, but I always need to come back to the basic beats of story. You can know something but then in the middle of all the words, it’s so easy to forget the art of simplicity – it’s in simplicity that we can be complex. This structure is absolutely one that resonates with me – because it is so true!
Thanks, Janna.
I like what you say about “pinch points”, reminders and returns to the main problem or conflict.
Brooklyn was great in that Eilis’s go-or-stay, Irish-or-American inner conflict undergoes a flip. At first she is an Irish girl who doesn’t fit in America. Later she is an American wife who no longer fits in Ireland.
To make the plot work, Nick Hornby’s script indulges in some eye-rolling improbabilities. For instance, Eilis’s Italian-American love interest Tony (wonderfully played by the young Marlon Brando-ish actor Emory Cohen) falls for an Irish girl. Really? In Brooklyn in 1951? Why he loves this chaste, painfully shy, baseball virgin from a totally different cultural world is not explained.
In the second half, upon Eilis’s return to Ireland for her sister’s funeral, she fails to tell anyone that she married Tony. Her mother and town’s expectations that she will return for good are thus set up for some squirmy conflict. But–really? Why the big secret?
So, why do we overlook those plot cheats and sink happily into this sappy romance? I think it is because in addition to “pinch points” there are also points of delight.
What is beautiful about Ireland is captured, for instance, in the Christmas mission dinner (singing) scene and the return to the Irish coast scene. What is lovely about immigrant Brooklyn is caught in the learning-to-twirl-spaghetti scene and through the giggly young women of Ma Kehoe’s boarding house.
In Brooklyn, there is food, dance, Christmas, a kindly priest, family bonds, love, and our aching hope for shy young woman coming out of her shell. I mean, what is not to like?
Thus, in addition to your pinch points, may I also suggest pleasure points?
Excellent post. Wish I had been at your workshop!
Yes Yes Yes! I am obsessed (unhealthily so) with this movie. You and I need to get coffee and dish.
Happy to! Next Un-Con?
You might check out Colm Toibin’s novel on which the film is based. The increased context makes these improbabilities seem almost inevitable. He’s one of my favorite writers.
The improbability that my book club remarked on was that so many people wanted to help this young woman. Townspeople loved Rose as well. Yet my personal experience is that such one-on-one generosity is more common than the antagonism we see in so many stories. It’s needed to drive the plot, of course–conflict, obstacles, etc.–but Toibin’s delightful story is a reminder that an equally gripping story can be told using inner conflict in a positive environment.
I HAVE read it! And I agree with your comments regarding improbabilities. I had a little trouble with the third person pov, however. It felt odd (having watched the movie first) to have that narrative separation from Eilis.
Ah, thanks Anne. Great distinction. Every time I try to figure out how my stories fit the three act structure, I always seem to end up with five acts. But, if I look at those in between events as pinch points, it makes more sense. So using the troll in The Sorcerer’s Stone as an example, everything changes between Harry, Ron, and Hermione after that event. It “feels” a little like the end of an act, but it’s a pinch point.
My work here is done. *brushes dust off hands* Happy writing!
Loved this post and your session at UnCon!
I wrote my first novel by workshopping it without knowing anything about plot structure or pinch points. But because we’re hard-wired for story my novel has all the basic beats in all the right places. (Mind you, it took me years!) I’m hoping by applying your structure I can write the next one a little faster!
Yep – I firmly believe that one of the best ways to learn how to write a story is to read A LOT of stories.