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by A Dash of Style- The Art

  FEW PEOPLE would think of the paragraph break as a punctuation mark, but it certainly is. In ancient times there were no paragraphs—sentences simply flowed into one another without interruption—but over time text became segmented into paragraphs, first indicated by the capital letter "C." During medieval times this mark

  and this eventually evolved into the modern-day paragraph break, which is, of course, indicated today by only a line break and indentation. The indentation we use today was originally there for early printers, so that they would have space for the large illuminated letter that used to herald paragraphs. The illuminated letter no longer exists, but, luckily for tired readers, the spacing does.

  Today the paragraph break is indicated only by absence, which is perhaps why it is glossed over in discussions about punctuation. This is a shame, because it is one of the most crucial marks in the punctuation world. It is used thousands of times in any given book, and it alone can make or break a work. Few places are more visible than

  the beginnings and endings of paragraphs: with their ample spacing, they are eye catching. As such the paragraph break has an unparalleled ability to propel into the limelight, offering perpetual opportunities to grab readers with new hooks. It has the unique power to frame a cluster of sentences, to give them shape and meaning, to resolve the theme of the current paragraph and set the stage for the paragraph to come. Indeed, this is why some speed-reading courses teach readers to read merely the beginnings and endings of paragraphs.

  The paragraph break is a big brother to the period: the period divides sentences, while the paragraph break divides groups of sentences. Just as a sentence must have a beginning and appropriate ending, so must a paragraph. Yet while the period is paid homage to as the backbone of punctuation, the paragraph break is largely ignored. This is ironic, since its role could be considered even more pivotal than the period, as it effects not just one sentence, but many. If the period is a stop sign, then the paragraph break is a stoplight at a major intersection.

  The section break (also known as the line space) is the most subjective of punctuation marks. It is rarely discussed, and there is not even a consensus on how to indicate it. In manuscript form, this mark is generally indicated by a blank line followed by text set flush left, or by a single asterisk, or by a set of asterisks running across the page, centered and evenly spaced with a tab between each. In a bound book, it is usually indicated by a line space between two paragraphs, but you'll also find it indicated by a wide variety of symbols, from a star, to some small graphic in line with the theme of the book, such as a miniature ship in a book about the sea. Regardless of the visual, they all serve the same purpose: to indicate a section break.

  The section break is used to delineate sections within chapters, which might range from several paragraphs to several pages. It signifies a major transition within a chapter, usually a change of time, place, or even viewpoint. It indicates to the reader that, although the chapter isn't finished, he can comfortably pause and digest what he's read. Make no doubt about it: it is a significant break, carrying nearly the weight of a chapter break. The only difference is that the section break defines a transition that, while significant, must fall under the umbrella of a single chapter.

  Stronger than a paragraph break yet weaker than a chapter break, it is the semicolon of breaks. It is a big brother to the paragraph break, and a big big brother to the period. If the period is the stop sign and the paragraph break is the stop light, then the section break is the town line.

  HOW TO USE PARAGRAPH BREAKS

  The chief purpose of a paragraph break is to define and encapsulate a theme. One of the first rules of composition is that every paragraph must have an argument or thesis, must begin with an idea, carry it through, and conclude with it. The opening sentence should set the stage, the middle sentences execute, and the final sentence conclude. A neat, little package. This is easy to do when writing essays or academic papers, but when it comes to fiction or creative nonfic-tion, you cannot blatantly allow your work to progress so neatly, jumping from argument to argument, without being accused of writing in too linear a fashion, or in an inappropriately academic style. For example, creative writers are told to avoid beginning paragraphs with "thus" or "finally"; the neat building blocks of an academic paper are too linear for the creative world. Which is understandable: readers don't want to feel as if they're progressing from one argument to the next. They want to get caught up in a story.

  This leaves the creative writer with a quandary: he must keep his paragraphs focused, yet without appearing to do so. When he opens each paragraph he must subtly suggest a direction, and before its end he must bring it to (or toward) a conclusion. Mastering the paragraph break will help the creative writer in this task. By placing one at just the right moment, a writer can subtly encapsulate a theme and set the stage for a new theme in the paragraph to come. Let's look at an example from Joyce Carol Oates's story "Heat":

  We went to see them in the funeral parlor where they were waked, we were made to. The twins in twin caskets, white, smooth, gleaming, perfect as plastic, with white satin lining puckered like the inside of a fancy candy box. And the waxy white lilies, and the smell of talcum powder and perfume. The room was crowded, there was only one way in and out.

  Rhea and Rhoda were the same girl, they'd wanted it that way.

  Only looking from one to the other could you see they were two.

  Notice how the first paragraph begins with the image of their entering the funeral parlor; the subsequent sentences expand on this image; and the final sentence concludes with it. When Oates moves on to a new paragraph, she is off describing the parlor and onto a different concept—and none of it is heavy handed. It is subtly suggested by the paragraph break. Note also the terrific contrast between paragraphs here, the impact that the second and third paragraphs have standing on their own as one-sentence paragraphs, especially after coming out of a longer paragraph. This is not haphazard: each sentence reflects the content, hammers home a profound idea.

  • Paragraphs are funny things in that they must be both independent and connected. They are like links in a chain, each complete in its own right, yet each attached to another. In order to accomplish this, the opening and closing sentences must inconspicuously act

  as hooks, propelling us from one paragraph to another. Indeed, the break itself must be thought of as a hook.

  There is no comparison between a good paragraph break and a great one. A great one not only encapsulates a theme, but leaves you dangling, needing to turn to the next paragraph. Just as the opening and closing of chapters have hooks, so must you take this principle and apply it to the paragraph break. If a paragraph (like a chapter) ends on a note that is too self encapsulated, readers can feel as if they've read enough and not feel compelled to read on. And it must be a two-pronged approach: ending a paragraph with a hook does little good if the following paragraph doesn't, in turn, begin with a strong sentence that ties into the previous ending. Consider the opening lines of F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby:

  In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since.

  "Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone," he told me, "just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages that you've had."

  Fitzgerald chooses to begin his novel with two single-sentence paragraphs, a bold move. But it works. It helps to draw the reader in immediately. Notice how each of these paragraphs stands on its own, yet also feels connected to what follows.

  • No other punctuation mark rivals the paragraph break when it comes to its power over pacing. Short paragraphs accelerate the pace, while long ones can slow it to a crawl. If your pace is slow, you can increase it with frequent paragraph breaks; if too quick, you can slow it by decreasing their frequency. Of course, this must only be done for a specific reason, not just to arbitrarily speed up or slow down the work. Like all punctuation marks, paragraph br
eaks can only do so much on their own, and are ultimately at the mercy of the content around them. If you are in the midst of a heated action scene, for instance, frequent breaks might be appropriate— indeed, long paragraphs in an action scene might even be inappropriate. They must conform to the content.

  In Ellen Cooney's novel Gun Ball Hill the short paragraphs help accelerate the pace at appropriate moments:

  "The English have a genius for prisons," he would tell her.

  They took him at 4:00 in the afternoon. A summer day. August 19.

  Note also her use of the period, how the short sentences mimic the short paragraphs, each hammering home a point of significance, each further bringing to life the kidnapping.

  Raymond Carver, on the other hand, manages to slow the pace with his short paragraphs in his story "Collectors":

  I was out of work. But any day I expected to hear from up north. I lay on the sofa and listened to the rain. Now and then I'd lift up and look through the curtain for the mailman.

  There was no one on the street, nothing.

  Although the paragraphs (and sentences) are short, the pace slows to a crawl. As each point is hammered home, we feel time passing, and nothing happening. Then a new paragraph comes, and still nothing is happening. We are made to feel as the narrator feels.

  • The paragraph break is the ultimate balancer. It blocks off a certain size of text, and in doing so wields great power over consistency. For example, a paragraph break can create a one-line paragraph, or a three-page paragraph. If such a paragraph (whether one line or three pages) is thematically encapsulated, then technically the paragraph break fulfills its function. But consistency must be taken into account. One should not have paragraph lengths varying wildly throughout a text. The experience will be too jarring on readers, and they won't be able to settle in.

  Thus when inserting a paragraph break, you must also take into account the paragraph breaks that preceded it and those that will follow. The paragraph break, by its nature, is entirely about context (which is why in this chapter we will discuss it here instead of in a separate "context" section). In most cases, you want to set the style by striving for an overall consistency. If your paragraphs average seven sentences, for example, stay as close to that as possible, plus or minus two sentences. This will help establish an overall pace for your book, will help the reader settle in and focus on the content. It will also put you in a position to be able to alert the reader to something important when the time comes.

  • Which brings us to breaking with consistency. Once you've offered a general consistency, you can—and should —break the rules, varying paragraph length when the content calls for it. If your work is filled with seven-sentence paragraphs and a one-line paragraph appears, it will hit the reader like a punch; the content in that one-line paragraph will be thrust into the limelight. It's a way of hammering home a point, of indicating extreme significance. Breaking with paragraph length is particularly effective in beginnings and endings, whether of sections, chapters, or the entire book. It can help add a dramatic touch, a feeling of breaking with style, which beginnings and endings often demand.

  Here's an exemplary example from Brian Ascalon's Roley novel American Son:

  Tomas is the son who helps pay the mortgage by selling attack dogs to rich people and celebrities. He is the son who causes her embarrassment by showing up at family parties with his muscles covered in gangster tattoos and his head shaved down to stubble and his eyes bloodshot from pot. He is really half white, half Filipino but dresses like a Mexican, and it troubles our mother that he does this. She cannot understand why if he wants to be something he is not he does not at least try to look white. He is also the son who says that if any girlfriend criticized our mother or treated her wrong he would knock the bitch across the house.

  I am the son who is quiet and no trouble, and I help our mother with chores around the house.

  By the paragraph break placement alone, we can feel the contrast between the two brothers. The contrast between the two paragraphs is terrific, with the short paragraph truly standing out, hammering home the point that these two brothers couldn't be any more different.

  Louise Erdrich uses the paragraph break to great effect in her story "Matchimanito":

  I guided the last buffalo hunt. I saw the last bear shot. I trapped the last beaver with a pelt of more than two years' growth. I spoke aloud the words of the government treaty and refused to sign the settlement papers that would take away our woods and lake. I axed the last birch that was older than I, and I saved the last of the Pillager family.

  Fleur.

  We found her on a cold afternoon in late winter, out in her family's cabin near Matchimanito Lake, where my companion, Edgar Pukwan, of the tribal police, was afraid to go.

  Fleur. It is a bold, one-word paragraph, sandwiched between two longer paragraphs; you don't get more conspicuous punctuation than that. And it works. Erdrich signals to us that someone new is on the scene, someone of great significance.

  "Short paragraphs put air around what you write and make it look inviting, whereas one long chunk of type can discourage the reader from even starting to read."

  —William Zinsser

  HOW TO USE SECTION BREAKS

  When considering whether to use a section break, the first thing you must realize is that every time you use one, you give the reader a chance to put your book down. The section break carries nearly the power of a chapter break and also has nearly the visual appeal of one: it creates a nice, too-convenient place for a reader to rest. So first ask yourself if you truly need it. Can the chapter live without it? If you decide you do need a significant break, then ask yourself if you shouldn't use a chapter break instead. You must have an excellent justification for why these sections must fall under one chapter, instead of being chapters in and of themselves.

  If you pass the test of these two questions, then you are ready to use the section break. Sometimes it will be necessary. If so, let's explore some ways to use it:

  • Section breaks can indicate a passing of time. While this is more traditionally indicated by a chapter break, there certainly are instances within a chapter where time can pass. For example, you

  might be dealing with a small amount of time (say, one hour), in which case a section break could be more appropriate than a full-fledged chapter break. Or if your work spans a ten-year period, and each chapter covers one year, and you want to indicate the passing of only a few months, then a section break would be appropriate.

  • Section breaks can indicate a change of setting. There might be an instance when you need to change settings within the same chapter; perhaps, for instance, a setting change is a minor one (like going elsewhere within the same town) and thus you'd want a less substantial break. In general, drastic setting changes are better indicated by chapter breaks, particularly if they are coupled with time or viewpoint transitions. What's important is consistency: you don't want to use section breaks to indicate setting changes in one chapter, yet use chapter breaks for the same purpose in subsequent chapters. Whichever route you choose, stick to the course.

  • Section breaks can indicate a change in viewpoint. In general, changes in viewpoint should be reserved for chapter breaks; this is among the most substantial of breaks, and readers need time and space to realize they are inside another character's head. The last thing you want to do is switch perspectives within one chapter and have the reader read on, thinking he's still in the original character's point of view; when he finally figures it out, he will have to go back and reread the material, and will be frustrated.

  That said, there are rare instances when you might prefer to switch viewpoints within the same chapter. For example, if you have created an ensemble cast and have decided to give each character equal weight and switch viewpoints frequently between them; or if you're dealing with a romance and two characters share equal weight, and you alternate between their viewpoints throughout the work. In such a case, you might alternate
viewpoint chapter by chapter, but in the final chapter, when the pace accelerates and they come together, alternate their viewpoints within the very same chapter, in which case you'd use a section break. Even then it would be debatable. If you go this route, it must be justified, and pains must be taken to immediately let readers know that they are in the midst of another viewpoint.

  • To indicate transitions where none are indicated. Sometimes you encounter a work where a major transition occurs within a chapter and yet there is nothing to delineate it at all. This will confuse the reader, as he won't realize there has been a change of time, setting, or viewpoint (or some other significant change) until it's too late. He will then have to go back and reread. If a major transition must occur within a chapter, there should usually be a section break. Without it, you leave your work open to confusion.

  • Section breaks can offer readers a rest within a long chapter. But keep in mind that needing a rest is not reason enough for a section break. Section breaks should only be used to offer a rest if they also meet the criteria of a significant transition. Breaks can't just come for the sake of it—otherwise, readers will pick up exactly where they left off, and wonder why there was a break at all. It devalues the break, and readers won't take it seriously the next time it appears.

  If you do end up using a section break, remember that every time you do you create new beginnings and endings. The power of these moments must be taken seriously. Don't use one unless you're prepared to conclude the previous section with a strong hook and begin the new one with an equally strong one. More important, make sure you build to that hook well in advance, and don't just tack it on. Hooks must always be organic to the material, and the best ones take several pages to build.