Writing a good novel mimics living a good life in so many ways. I learned this while in process of earning my MFA. Our talented advisors would often lecture during the 10-day per semester stint at a college where, while in my 30’s, I got to play at being a co-ed again, cafeteria food and all (I didn’t mind because I didn’t have to cook).
One of these advisors taught me to stay in the moment. And, speaking of cafeteria food that I didn’t have to cook, clearly I had trouble with the concept.
This particular advisor, Tim Wynne-Jones, coined the term pause button violation. A pause button violation is, in a nutshell, a long stretch of one character’s internal monologue that pulls readers out of the scene at hand. It’s unnatural, and can be frustrating for someone who was previously engaged in the action of the story. So for example, she, the protagonist, is in process of rescuing them both from the fire breathing dragon and he stops to consider the stunning shape of her lips. Or hips. Either works. Which, face it, a guy could do any given moment, but in a novel let’s stick to the story.
And, speaking of slaying dragons, it can be ludicrously difficult to focus when your son is describing to you in detail how in Fortnite his number one strategy is to collect tons of floppers and meg kits before camping at the end of a storm circle, so that when the storm comes you can eat your meg kits and floppers, wait for the others to die and, before you know it, you’re killing that one other man left standing, building a box around yourself and emoting on that player, which then invites a description, in detail, of very specific dance moves.
I have four sons and I currently teach a class of freshmen. They know when you’re not hearing them. And it stops them from being so forthcoming in the future. So if you ever find yourself saying the words, Where was I? What were you saying? I’m sorry, I was thinking about something else, that’s a pause button violation. Stick with the action at hand.
Because that moment isn’t coming back.