Today did not go the way I wanted it. I got home to yet another Roomba poopocalypse courtesy the cat with bowel issues doing his business in the wrong place again. So another set of brushes goes into the trash because it’s not worth cleaning them, the Roomba gets scrubbed as much as possible (about halfway there right now – there’s more to go before it’s usable again), after which I will be reprogramming the bloody thing so there’s time for a poop patrol before it starts its cycle.
Now that I’ve grossed out everyone, it’s time for the part of the book that can make it or break it: the climax. Which is hopefully rather less messy than my Roomba is right now.
The Pantser Body of Knowledge: A Good Climax
Now we’ve reached the part of the book that governs whether readers will be saying “wow”, “meh”, or “ho-hum”. Obviously, “wow” is the reaction you want. This section, whether five pages or fifty (five hundred is rather overdoing it, and exhausts your readers) must be intense, impossible to put down, and it must seem to rise naturally from everything to this point.
Extreme pantsers often need to go back over their draft to prune anything that weakens the climax, strengthen the areas that make that particular set of events inevitable, and hide anything that suggests another outcome or explicitly eliminate any potential alternatives. The do or die (whether literal or metaphorical) climax has to be the point that everything moves to, and it has to be impossible to escape.
This, of course, is where the deific powers of the Author come into play. In order to eliminate everything else, we have to make sure beforehand that there is no intelligent alternative, and no dumb alternative either. We get to use anything and everything to push our leads to the climax: the weather (that snowstorm at the beginning which delayed your hero for three frustrating days turns out to be critical to making sure he doesn’t get his army to the pass before the enemy has their forces in place), the landscape and recent history (what do you mean, the river’s flooded? It hasn’t rained here for weeks – but it’s been raining non-stop in the mountains and that water has to go somewhere), circumstances that keep your lead from refueling his spaceship, leading to it running out of fuel at the worst possible moment (and coming out of hyperspace in the debris field of an uncharted black hole – no-one ever said you have to be nice to your leads. It’s better if you’re not. It makes their victory so much more satisfying when they’ve had to deal with seven kinds of hell along the way), you name it.
What extreme pantsers often find is that after enough study and practice (don’t ask me to define ‘enough’ – I don’t know what it is), they’ll be doing these things without realizing why. Sometimes doing them in previous books in the series. I did this in ConVent as a throwaway line which turned out to be central to the plot of ConSensual. Terry Pratchett, of course, is the master of this, with his running gag about the Battle of Koom Valley turning into epic tragedy and epic heroism in Thud! He’s also utterly brilliant when it comes to eliminating options for his central character. I won’t spoiler, but the climactic sequence of Snuff is another magnificent example of how to do it right.
Now to the mechanics of the climax sequence itself. It may be one scene, several scenes, or several chapters. Regardless, the basic feel of it should be a wild breathless ride that, once started, can’t be stopped. At the start of the sequence, tension should be at or near the highest point of the book, while the pace should start picking up from whatever it was at the end of the buildup until it’s at the fastest for the book. L. K. Hamilton’s first three books are perfect examples of this (although it’s worth mentioning that these are guidelines rather than rules. Sometimes you need to ignore them – my basic rule is to work this way unless I can boost the emotional impact of what I’m doing by doing something else).
Once again, I’m using Impaler for an example, although the climax sequence is actually somewhat atypical. It’s one of those cases of what I remember well enough to discuss without having to go back and check and isn’t going to spoiler the piece for too many people.
So, the buildup ends with the fight for Constantinople about to start. I have chapter break there, starting the climactic sequence with a new chapter. Vlad’s use of black powder bombs under the walls of the city work, bringing a section of wall down. The tension heightens while he and his men haul cannons and lead horses through the rubble into the bailey of the partly completed Castle of Seven Towers, and start bombarding one of the walls from the inside.
Tension and pace increase with the collapse of the castle wall. The rest of Vlad’s army is bombarding the city, sending incendiaries and bombs over the walls and using cannon and battering rams to bring down the repaired section. At the same time, his naval allies are using cannon mounted on ships to bombard the harbor walls. Vlad is following the messages from all these fronts of his attack, while watching for defenders in his section.
He doesn’t find them in time – they’re too close for his forces to do more than organize a hasty defense, and his small entry force is seriously outnumbered. The battle ramps the pace up while Vlad and his men fight to survive, until Vlad is injured. Here, the pace drops but the tension rises: Vlad can’t fight, but he refuses to leave the field. He endures some crude battlefield first aid, is helped onto a spare horse, and surrounded by his bodyguards.
Now the pace settles to something a little less frantic, but remains tense. Vlad is observing the battle, coordinating as best he can. His forces breach the city walls in multiple locations and open the remaining gates, then work their way through towards the palace on the very edge of the peninsula.
Now the tension ramps up to its highest: the palace walls are intact, all the gates are closed, and there’s an army inside that’s large enough to cause a lot of trouble to Vlad’s tired and injured soldiers, possibly enough to defeat them. The main palace gate opens.
Here the climactic sequence shifts from the struggle to sorting out the results. The major issues haven’t been resolved yet, but it’s become inevitable that they will be resolved, mostly in favor of the main character (unless a tragic ending is part of the book).
The army inside the palace is led by Mihnea, Vlad’s missing and wounded son. He’s escaped, killed the governor of the city, and offers his father the head of the governor in a symbolic gesture that acknowledges Vlad’s status. This ends the military/action aspect of the climactic sequence, dropping the tension levels and the action levels a lot, but leaving the relationship between the two very much unresolved.
In most cases the climactic sequence ends when the action stops: for Impaler I tend to see the climactic sequence running a little longer, past the next day when, after being treated and spending the day resting, they attend the Easter service at the newly rededicated Hagia Sophia, and at which Vlad is the bemused observer of what everyone around him believes to be a miracle in which he is blessed by an angel, and the angel points to a section of earth which is later dug up and reveals a pre-Byzantine crown (Vlad sees nothing).
For me, the end of the climactic sequence is the execution of Mihnea’s betrayers, because that scene marks the reconciliation of father and son, as well as cementing Vlad’s rule in Constantinople. Honestly, everything from the end of the battle for Constantinople could be considered part of the wrap-up: Impaler is unusual in not having a clear distinction between the climax and the wrap-up.
If you liken the climactic sequence of a book to a sled ride down a mountain, Impaler includes the part when the sled is slowing down on the lower slopes, but hasn’t stopped yet. It’s more common for the sled to stop suddenly: either way, it’s made it to the bottom with the main character more or less intact but changed by the experience.
Hmmm, good points. Getting close to a climatic section of one story today so this was perfectly timed.
Usually I have the climax in mind first. That may be tweaked somewhat as things progress, but everything points to that conclusion. That makes things easier, though I admit the temptation for the Evil Villain to just wipe out all his foes in the one just released. But the realization that a ruthless real-world villain in that place and time would do just that meant there had to be reasons why he didn’t, and gloating wouldn’t cut it. This Evil Villain wasn’t stupid.So the Evil Villain had to be in a shaky position that necessitated at least not appearing ruthless, lest he find himself on the wrong end of things. That, in turn, made the climax more believable.
One drawback is I find it hard to complete a story where I don’t have the climax in mind first. Usually that results in an unfinished tale. The other is that after writing the climax, it’s sometimes hard to go back and write the rest.
The big issue I have is what takes place after the climax. That’s not always clear, and you want to tidy up some things, but not too much, especially if you have a series in mind. I often write several and try to pick the one that works best.
THIS. I just lopped 10,000 words or so out of a book because I had 1) an emotional climax, 2) an action climax and 3) something that was trying desperately to be 1 and 2 but would only confuse readers. The book is still a mess, but it is no longer a hot mess.
I won’t mention a sci-fi book I slogged through back in the late 80s, written in the early 80s, where the “climax” was a lecture by a Wise Old Character about the sins of the people and the power of the Wilderness. That may have been the first time I walled a book. But I won’t mention that.
Still need to finish some writing notes on my end; I wish that sleep would be cooperative!
I must complain, as in observe, I’m finding the new text too small to read comfortably without having to magnify the page, which is OK. But, that can make reading the comment tricky, as in, having to scroll left to right and back again.
If you are using a computer, press and hold CTRL and the + enough to enbiggen sufficiently. Anything else, I have no clue.
That’s one of the first things I noticed, too, as much of my blog-reading has wandered off the laptop and onto the phone.
Not insurmountable, but it IS dang annoying!
Yes, I have to hit command+ also in order to make the text large enough to read.
“Impaler” HAS to have the story extend beyond the point at which the Death Star explodes, and not just to have a medals ceremony. It’s the character of Vlad and his turmoil that drove the story for me, not which side controlled which geography.
The WORST example of a book I otherwise enjoyed, where the book ends when the battle is fought, is ‘Footfall,’ by Jerry Pournelle and Larry Niven. While I would read a packing list written by either/both, I REALLY needed something beyond feet-on-belly.
Kate: “Impaler” is available on Amazon at the mere cost of $934.85, and there is no Kindle option; just a paperback, priced at a measly page rate of $2.0867 per page. What’s up with that?
Neal Stephenson is a great example of someone who brings the sled to the bottom, and then has a wall there to bring it to a stop. “The Big U”—an incredibly short novel for someone known for doorstops—has literally half a page devoted to wrapping up after the big event, along the lines of an old TV show: “this person did this; that person went on to be that.”
I’ve developed a dislike of the Classic Buildup And Climax — maybe I’ve just read too much, and too often binge-reading someone, but that pacing has become predictable, especially since most authors only use one style of buildup-and-climax.
So I’m generally more-pleased to read something that doesn’t fit the pattern. It needs to work internally, but I’d rather the buildup-and-climax weren’t so easily identifiable and obvious.
Since I can’t find my pants anyway, I don’t even think about it. I write til the story is finished. When is it finished? I know it when I see it.
I’ve gota big fight scene I’m working towards, but I don’t really want to write. I know the gist of it, but I’m not sure if I can really pull it off.
Just pants it and then look at it later. Next question, is it melee or military battle? For melee, I found a great link that talks about setting up a realistic fight.
Don’t know if it was shared here or not. Forget where I found it actually.
Don’t remember seeing it here.
Found where I found the link. Passive Voice blog back at the beginning of November. Sometimes having a steel trap memory helps. Sometimes.
Now how the blankety-blank did that happen? Just meant to share the link not the whole damn tumblr post. WordPress Delenda EST!
I’d say a melee, maybe a dozen on each side, complicated by magic.
Check out the site I linked. Think he talks about stuff like that as well.
I was actually a third of the way through my book before I figured out the climax. I mean, I knew what I wanted it to *do*, and I knew that there had to be an element out of control of the principle characters, but I couldn’t figure out how to do it *and* be survivable. The weirdest part is that when I started getting closer to it, it was inevitable and foreshadowed in multiple ways.
My subconscious is a better plotter than I am. I should resent that, but I’m just grateful.
I ended up writing the Boss Fight for the WIP several months ago. Alas, the Muse then sat back and giggled, waiting for me to find a way to get to said Boss Fight.
“I got home to yet another Roomba poopocalypse…”
Our new robot overlords, amiright? ~:D
I need to read this but my head hurts. I will try to read it tomorrow.
*jumps a motorcycle over an active volcano full of sharks with fricken laser beams*