Let's look at section breaks in literature. Tim O'Brien used it masterfully in his story "The Things They Carried":
With its quilted liner, the poncho weighed almost two pounds, but it was worth every ounce. In April, for instance, when Ted Lavender was shot, they used his poncho to wrap him up, then to carry him across the paddy, then to lift him into the chopper that took him away.
They were called legs or grunts.
With his punctuation, O'Brien shows us how commonplace death was in Vietnam. In the section's final sentence, discussing common items used by the soldiers, he mentions the poncho, and offhandedly mentions that it can be used to carry away a dead body—as if carrying away a dead body is a routine event. Then he offers a section break, and changes the topic, switching again to something commonplace and reinforcing the idea that a dead body is not worth discussing.
Paul Cody offers one of the most inventive uses of the section break I've seen in the opening of his novel Compline:
1:00 a.m. Monday, January 6.
Ann left earlier in the evening for Knoxville, where her sister died on Saturday, around 10:00 a.m. After two years with cancer, then a stroke.
Ray is awake, sitting in the dark, sipping wine from a twelve-ounce tumbler.
Outside, the temperature is below zero, and may go down to ten below.
The sky is mostly deep black, with a few scudding clouds. In the backyard, on the other side of the window, a bright half-moon casts the shadows of bare branches on the snow blanketed on the ground.
Ray is staying behind in upstate New York with Eammon and Quentin, their sons, who are ten and seven. The four of them, Ray, Ann, Eammon and Quentin, went to East Tennessee only two weeks ago, when Martha, who had been sick so long, had a massive stroke. They flew down three days before Christmas.
In another author's hands this could be too stylistic, but Cody pulls it off. He begins his novel by hammering home intense images, each a snapshot, a fragment of a scene, pulling us deeper into a dark world. The pauses offered by a section break normally give us a chance to pull away from something dark, to take a break and start something new; but here, Cody shows us that there is no getting away, that even when we take a rest, we will come back to unremitting bleakness.
DANGER OF OVERUSE AND MISUSE OF PARAGRAPH BREAKS
• Overuse. Short paragraphs work well in newspaper and magazine writing, but they are not for the world of books (indeed this problem often plagues journalists-turned-authors). When a reader settles in for three hundred or more pages he expects a consistent pace, and paragraphs define that pace. Readers who turn to books look forward to stretching their attention capacity to absorb seven-sentence paragraphs (or more), and often want to be more mentally challenged than when reading a newspaper article. When paragraph breaks are overused, it creates consistently short paragraphs, which creates a jarring reading experience.
Just as short sentences make for choppy reading, so do short paragraphs. Paragraphs might be conceptualized to be too short to begin with. There is nothing wrong with a short paragraph on occasion, or even a series of them at some pivotal point in the work, but if the work consistently employs short paragraphs, it will be problematic.
• Paragraphs might be too short because they break prematurely, before the direction has a chance to conclude itself. If so, they can usually be fixed by merely moving the break, placing it later, by combining material from the following paragraph. This will fix the symptom, but will not solve the bigger issue: your thought process. Lucid paragraphs, even more than lucid sentences, are the mark of attention span: it takes talent to hold a complex idea in your head during the course of several sentences, to make a paragraph feel like one long thought. Writers with a short attention span will have difficulty in this regard, but even writers with the greatest span will at some point get tired and slip, and end up concluding a paragraph slightly too soon or too late. If so, it indicates you are not thinking as clearly as you should, not conceptualizing paragraphs as a single unit. This means you will also inevitably begin a paragraph on a bad note, since you are beginning with remnant material. Such a work will feel chaotic and will eventually lead a reader to put a work down.
When you conclude a paragraph, you should go back and look at your opening sentence. Have you come full circle? Does more need to be said? Likewise, when you begin a new paragraph, ask yourself if your opening sentence is truly initiating a new idea or if it is merely running on from the previous paragraph. Always ask yourself: Why end here? Why not one sentence earlier, or later? If there is no real answer, readers will feel as if they are in the hands of an arbitrary writer. Nothing can be more lethal.
•Alternately, one encounters works where paragraph breaks don't ever seem to come, where we leave one idea and enter another all under the guise of a single paragraph. This is equally problematic. Without a break, readers will feel as if they're being thrust into a new idea before having a chance to digest the old one. Paragraphs that don't end when they should will also be too long, making it harder for a reader to follow. It is hard enough for a reader to be jolted about by short paragraphs, but with long paragraphs, it is both confusing and suffocating.
Again, when you conclude a paragraph, go back and look at your opening sentence. Have you come past full circle? Have you said too much? Always ask yourself: why end here?
Keep in mind, though, that some great authors, like Faulkner and Moody, have underused paragraph breaks deliberately, creating paragraphs that stretch for pages on end. Indeed, in their case, you might even say that the long paragraphs defined their style. Such usage is not verboten, just very stylistic, and should never be attempted without a deliberate reason.
• In the worst case, one encounters paragraphs that have no point or direction at all, that don't begin with a strong idea, don't carry it through, and don't conclude with it. Such paragraphs are so arbitrary that the break becomes completely ineffective, as it is bound to be haphazard no matter where it lands. This is a sure sign of muddled thinking—with paragraphs like these it will be impossible for a work to be concise. For such a writer, the solution will be to focus on the beginnings and endings of paragraphs. When you have a strong beginning it gives you a strong direction; when you have a strong conclusion, you are bound to end up in the right place. With these in place, it is less likely you will ramble in the middle; and if you do, your beginnings and endings will save you, will keep the paragraphs readable enough to keep you on track.
"Punctuation is both an art and a craft; predominately however, it is an art: a humble art yet far from insignificant art. for it forms a means to an end and is not. itself an end. The purpose it serves, the art it sub serves, is the art of good writing."
— Eric Partridge, You Have a Point There
DANGER OF OVERUSE AND MISUSE OF SECTION BREAKS
• Sometimes one encounters a work where there are four, five, or more section breaks per chapter, and the effect is immediate. It lends the chapter a choppy feel, as if it's been carved into small parts. As a rule of thumb, there should rarely be more than one or two section breaks per chapter. There is a certain satisfaction for the reader in absorbing himself in fifteen or twenty pages at once; multiple section breaks detract from that. So many breaks give the reader so many more chances to set your book down. It also makes them work harder, as they'll have to exert the mental energy of going through multiple beginnings and endings, going through major transitions (whether of time, setting, or viewpoint) several times in a single chapter. Such hard work should be reserved for chapter breaks. Frequent section breaks also take away power from the section break itself: readers will trust its impact less if it appears ubiquitously. Section breaks are particularly abrasive in short chapters, in which they should rarely appear.
• Occasionally section breaks are inserted when not truly needed, when a transition is not significant enough. In such cases, the new section will often begin on exactly the same note, with no transi-
tion having
occurred. The section break becomes arbitrary, and after one or two usages like this, it will lose power.
Section breaks can also be misused as an excuse to abruptly end a scene, which enables a writer to avoid the hard work of developing it. They can become a convenient way for a writer to end on a mysterious, incomplete note, to indicate some greater significance or meaning when in fact there is none. Readers won't skip from section to section very long without realizing there's not much to each of these sections, and will become inclined to set the work down.
• Conversely, sometimes a transition indicated by a section break is too strong, is one that would be best served by a full-fledged chapter break. It can be a fine line deciding whether a section or chapter break is needed, especially as they both indicate significant transitions. Sometimes chapter length will be the determining factor: if every chapter in your work is thirty pages and you are at the fifteen-page mark with a significant transition, for consistency's sake it might be preferable to use the section break. But the solution is not always so clear cut.
If your section breaks are too significant, readers will come to view them in a new way: as chapter breaks. The next time they encounter one, they will anticipate a substantial change and will be more likely to choose this moment to set the book down.
Too-substantial section breaks also take away power from the chapter break: if the section breaks could be chapter breaks in their own right, then what good are chapter breaks? If they can't indicate a break stronger than the section break, chapter breaks become powerless. Chapter breaks serve an important purpose, which is to allow readers to rest, and to digest information.
Too-substantial section breaks also defeat their own purpose: they don't leave readers enough time or breathing room to digest a transition properly; as a result, a major transition (such as change of time, setting, or viewpoint) will be glossed over and won't really sink in.
• Section breaks, like paragraph breaks, are entirely about context; they exist to define a series of paragraphs or pages, to break them into sections and put them in context of the greater chapter. Section breaks themselves must appear in context of the greater work. Thus when deciding whether to insert a section break, you must consider how many section breaks appear, on average, in other chapters throughout your work. For example, if there are four section breaks in chapter one, but none throughout the rest of the work, it will feel inconsistent; or, if every chapter in your work averages one section break and a particular chapter has five, it will feel inconsistent (unless you do this for a deliberate reason). This is a red flag that this chapter doesn't fit in well with the rest, that perhaps it was hurried, or pieced together.
Additionally, you must consider the placement of section breaks within a chapter. A thirty-page chapter with two section breaks might have a break on page ten and a break on page twenty, which would leave you with three ten-page sections. But if the same two breaks were placed on page three and page twenty-six, you would be left with three sections of three pages, twenty-three pages, and four pages, respectively. This could lend a jarring feel. Section breaks needn't always come at precise intervals, but there must be some uniformity—or if you break with uniformity, you must do so for a deliberate reason. The important thing is that you don't do so unknowingly, or haphazardly.
WHAT YOUR USE OF PARAGRAPH AND SECTION BREAKS REVEALS ABOUT YOU
Writers who overuse the paragraph break (creating short paragraphs) are likely to be fast paced, action oriented, and focused on the execution of their plot at any cost—even at the expense of well-crafted
prose. They are more likely to be straightforward, functional. They are either beginners, or haven't yet grasped that writing is about the journey. They more likely hail from a journalistic background, where short paragraphs are the norm.
The good news is that these writers are concerned with plot and pacing, that they aim to please the reader, and that they proceed with concise thinking. If they are journalists, their background will serve them well in this regard—but only if they are humble enough to step back and realize that they are now operating in a different medium, and if they are willing to take it on its own terms.
Writers who underuse the paragraph break (creating long paragraphs) fall into two categories: the first, more common, are writers who can't censor themselves. These writers overflow with ideas and blur one into the next. They are less likely to write concisely, and their chapters will also begin and end arbitrarily. Their book as a whole will feel like a mess, and will need much more cutting. Since they don't know how to properly conclude, they are likely to also have a problem with creating effective closing hooks, and their work will likely end several times when it should only end once. They will need to learn how to distinguish thoughts.
The second type of writer crafts long paragraphs that are well thought out, but simply too long. These writers are rare. They will more likely be sophisticated, probably older, and might have an academic or scholarly background. They have a long attention span, are less likely to be action oriented, and are more concerned with prose. This bodes well for the writing itself—style, word choice, execution—but not for plot and pacing. Their work will likely be exceedingly slow, even stylistic. They need to learn that not every reader has the mental capacity that they do, or the desire to exert it.
In all of these cases the writers also misuse the paragraph break, as it is inevitable that too-long or too-short paragraphs will also begin or end on the wrong note. This suggests that they do not think as clearly as they should. This is yet another example where punctuation reveals the writer: messy breaks reveal messy thinking. Clear, lucid breaks reveal clear, lucid thinking. Indeed, we begin to see how punctuation can be used to teach the writer how to think, and subsequently how to write.
Writers who overuse the section break (creating too many sections) are looking for a way out, a stylistic trick to compensate for what they don't offer elsewhere. They are likely to not finish what they started, to leave elements of their work underdeveloped, dangling mysteriously, and not offer the resolution readers crave. They are impatient. These writers think in terms of the individual pieces but not the big picture; indeed, their work will likely feel like a collection of disparate parts.
A book can live happily without section breaks, so it's hard to "underuse" them. That said, there are instances when they could be needed, and in such a case writers who omit them are likely to have little sense of transition. They are less likely to use strong opening or closing hooks, will less likely craft a book that grabs readers. They are less likely to have a flair for drama, and won't have a firm enough grasp on the importance of a switch of time, setting, or viewpoint. As a result, they are likely to not use any of these well.
We must also consider writers who misuse section breaks, which can be a troubling reflection of their thought process. If they insert four section breaks in one chapter and one in another, if they have some sections that run three pages and others that run thirty-three, this can indicate chaotic thought. They are more likely to write in a scattered, uncontrolled way, and their work as a whole will likely lack a defining arc or direction.
EXERCISES
• Examine the final sentences of several of the paragraphs in one of your works, and then go back and reexamine their openings. Are the first and last sentences as related to each other as they should be? Do these paragraphs come full circle? Do any of them end prematurely, or go on too long? Can you edit accordingly? What impact does it have on the work?
• Take two pages from your work and cut the paragraph length in half. You might need to cut or add material so that these paragraphs work at half the length. Take a step back and reread the material. How does it read now? What impact did it have on pacing, on style? Did switching to such a style spark any ideas? Can you apply this technique elsewhere in your work?
• Take two pages from your work and make your paragraphs twice as long. You might need to combine two or more paragraphs, or add n
ew material. Now take a step back and reread the material. How does it read now? What impact did it have on pacing, on style? Did switching to such a style make you feel differently while you were writing? Give you any new ideas? Can you apply this technique elsewhere in your work?
• Take a close look at your paragraph consistency. Count the number of sentences in your paragraphs. Do this for an entire chapter. What is the average? Go back and look at your paragraphs individually and see if any paragraphs significantly exceed or fall short of that length. If so, is there a good reason? If not, can you find a way to balance them out, to shorten or lengthen them to achieve overall consistency? What impact does it have on the work?
• Look through your work for a moment where you'd like to create an impact. To do so, can you contrast a long paragraph with a short one?
• Go back through your work and ask yourself if any of your chapters (particularly long chapters) contain significant transitions, for example, transitions in time, setting, or viewpoint. Can a section break be inserted at any of these moments to help mark the transition?
• Take a close look at the material that immediately precedes and follows your section breaks. Are there strong opening and closing hooks? If not, can you strengthen them?
• Take a close look at your section breaks and ask yourself if you use any of them as an easy way out, as a way of avoiding diving deeper into a character or scene. Can you expand the material before the section break? (When you're finished, you might find that the section break is no longer even necessary.)
•Take a close look at your section breaks and ask if any of these are too significant. Should any of them be replaced with full-fledged chapter breaks?
•You can learn a lot about section breaks by studying how poets use stanza breaks. Read through a wide variety of poetry, looking specifically for these breaks. When are the poets using stanza breaks? What does it add to the poem? What can this teach you about section breaks? How might this principle be applied to your own writing?
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