
Time is a trickster.
It expands and contracts, often against our will. This observation holds so much truth about the human condition that I urge you to think carefully about how it affects the characters in your work-in-progress.
In thinking about how to structure a novel about my first husband’s suicide standoff, one truth kept coming to light: my life would be forever divided by “before the suicide” and “after the suicide.” To underscore that effect, I wanted to structure the story within the standoff’s twelve hours.
As a sophomore novelist, I had no clue whether I could pull that off. It wasn’t until I read something by Sarah Pekkanen that I gained the needed insight to give it a try. While Pekkanen has published eight works of women’s fiction as well as several thrillers with Greer Hendricks, it wasn’t a novel that clued me into the mad skill I sought: it was her feature article about the shooting at Colorado’s Columbine High School that ran in the Baltimore Sun back in 1999.
While I urge you to read the whole article when you can, here is my highlight reel as to why Pekkanen’s manipulation of time was so effective.
How and why to manipulate time
Set expectation. Pekkanen’s opening paragraph puts a focus on imminent change and the passage of time (emphasis mine):
A boy could hide in Columbine High School. Let others choose colleges, majors, futures. Senior Adam Foss drove fast, pulled pranks and drifted towards graduation. School was a lark, life a good time. Then the halls erupted with gunshots. The killers were outside the choir room. Panicked students needed help. Who could they turn to? “In here!” Adam shouted. He herded them into an empty office. They waited. They prayed. And in those hours, an aimless boy discovered himself.
Deepen characterization. By telescoping between hijinks that day to pranks throughout high school, the next dozen paragraphs characterize her main character, Adam, as a senior whose true leadership potential hides beneath a fast-driving James Bond persona. In fact, his nickname is “007.”
Explore the effects of shock. Time speeds to a blur in the next dozen paragraphs as the first shots were heard. Adam is shown at the door of the choir room, witnessing the death of a teacher out in the hallway—and in that moment, on instinct, he shuts the door on the rampage and herds everyone into the choir director’s office. Time splits as others freeze in horror:
Adam didn’t hesitate. He lifted a girl out of her seat and carried her to Mr. Andres’ office.
…
Adam glanced around the choir room. No one was left. He squeezed into the office and shut the door.
Evoke the struggle against helplessness. Time slows to a suffocating choke inside that office. For the next ten paragraphs, the students try to avoid detection while “a steady thunder of gunshots” come from the library:
The tiny, unventilated room filled with gasps and sobs. Just 8 by 12 feet, the space couldn’t comfortably hold 20 people. Fifty-eight were crammed inside.
Offer relief. Pekkanen cuts the tension by switching to “ordinary time” in the day of Adam’s mom, Joann Foss. A humorous memory allows the reader to breathe and gather herself. When news of the shooting rips open Joann’s day, time speeds again as she desperately scans TV footage for Adam and his twin brother. Then another breath as she receives this message on her pager: “007–007–007.”
Illustrate each increment of frustration and hope. The next ten paragraphs slow again as the kids in the office try to communicate with the outside world, even while knowing that staying quiet is key to their survival. The lack of air threatens a girl with asthma. Another has to pee. All reserve sips from half a bottle of water for those who have fainted.
Force comparison by folding time. In three short paragraphs, Pekkanen yanks us from the innocence of a child’s hide-and-seek game to what is happening now as shooters find those hiding beneath desks in the library. The stakes become deeply felt.
Create dual realities. In a brilliant move, Pekkanen uses the next paragraphs to split time. Outside, she shows SWAT teams rushing into the building, but for the kids back in the office…
Every second dragged by. How many hours had passed? Two? Three? The gunshots never stopped, and the choir members listened intently to each explosion, trying to glean clues about the shooters’ movements. Were they coming closer?
Heighten drama.
Then the phone rang. Everyone froze.
That’s a good place to stop the analysis, don’t you think? (Sorry, there’s more great stuff—I hope to inspire you to read the article!)
By telescoping in to show time’s high-tension creep and then zooming out to take in the movement in the bigger picture, Pekkanen effectively massages time to maximize her story’s effect. She does not rely on high stakes alone; her pacing brings the reader to knowing smiles, tears, and good old-fashioned nail-biting.
The result is a powerful statement about how to live in the face of death.
That’s what I sought to do with The Far End of Happy. As I set about writing, I was concerned that I would be unable to create a believable arc for my protagonist that would span only twelve hours. Pekkanen showed me it was possible by creating a believable arc for Adam that spans a much shorter time.
Two nights after the shooting, as Adam’s choir sang at a memorial service in a nearby church, he has changed:
The lead tenor was tall and blond, dressed in a crisp white shirt and tie. As the notes of “Amazing Grace” filled the sanctuary, his voice stood out, strong and confident and clear.
It was no longer the voice of a boy.
Is there a place in your manuscript that would benefit from the rush of pandemonium or a slow trickle of sweat? Those who read the Baltimore Sun article: how did Pekkanen’s manipulation of time affect you? All other examples focused on the effective manipulation of the passage of time are welcome!
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About Kathryn Craft
Kathryn Craft (she/her) is the author of two novels from Sourcebooks, The Art of Falling and The Far End of Happy. A freelance developmental editor at Writing-Partner.com since 2006, Kathryn also teaches in Drexel University’s MFA program and runs a year-long, small-group mentorship program, Your Novel Year. Learn more on Kathryn's website.
Katherine, I stopped breathing while I read your highlight of Pekkanen’s article. There’s one place in particular where this zooming in and pulling back would be very effective in my Ms. I’m also thinking about the book I’ve just started. And having read ‘the Far End of Happy, I can attest that it worked for you there. This post is a keeper. Thank you!
Oh good, that makes me happy Susan! Thanks for the comment.
This sentence is a keeper: “By telescoping in to show time’s high-tension creep and then zooming out to take in the movement in the bigger picture, Pekkanen effectively massages time to maximize her story’s effect.” You’ve opened up another level of craft (pun intended, as always) by showing the subtle, precise, purposeful ways that time can be used to serve the story. Thank you!
Yes, that was the big eye-opener for me as well, Barbara. This technique adds excitement to the storytelling. The reader has no interest in a minute-by-minute slog through each day in the character’s life; it’s much more entertaining to ride a coaster that plunges into a confining tunnel and then bursts into the wide open. And it gives the writer license to enter the most dramatic moments deeply in order to create more meaning for the reader.
Kathryn, thanks so much for this insightful post. I just finished reading the newspaper article by Sarah Pekkanen and was amazed at the gripping writing. I’ve put it in my “writing favorites” file.
HI Lorraine. Isn’t it wonderful that an article from 1999 lives on in such an important and inspirational way? Our work is our legacy and can be our teaching for future generations of writers. That alone is a reason to strive to make it the best it can be.
Thanks for this analysis, Kathryn. I think the other thing the writer did was focus on a single character- she humanized the event by letting us see it through a single vantage point. Another good take-away lesson.
Hi Maggie, yes—that focus really “puts you there.” Of course she was limited to third person since this was reporting, but it would have been a good choice for a novel too, since it left her the option of pulling back for the big picture and then zooming in on another aspect of the story to which Adam had no immediate access—the mom at home, say, or the police action—without violating POV. This was a great way to spread the stakes across more shoulders.
Kathryn, that was an excellent lesson in manipulating time because it’s true…an hour can feel like an eternity when you’re conscious of the fact that every breath could be your last. I read the full article and was impressed with how much we learn about the people, first Adam, then his mother, his twin, some of the other students. She chooses small details to highlight their relationships, like the girl who looked into Adam’s eyes and just knew she could trust him. Brilliant piece. Bravo Adam! Yes, there’s always a before and after. Thank you Kathryn.
ETA: I didn’t think He Leadeth Me by Walter Ciszek would be so compelling because of his time in solitary (5 yrs) and then to a Siberian labor camp for 15 yrs. Yet, I was riveted. The way he describes his mental state and the clarity of his writing…Wow! A gem!
I’m so glad you clicked through to the full article, Vijaya—isn’t it brilliant? Thanks for recommending the Ciszek book. Sounds like a winner, and one that would also demonstrate these techniques.