Plot, character development, and setting are expected ingredients for an engaging and moving story, but what about energy? A pivotal moment in my evolution as a writer occurred in the late nineties when Stuart Jaffe and David Bender, fellow members of a writers’ group, helped me to see the relationships between pacing, rhythm, and scenes, which I now describe as “movement” in writing.
I experienced a similar point of growth during the 2024 Bay-to-Ocean Writer’s Conference keynote address by Maryland Poet Laureate Grace Cavalieri. She took my understanding of movement to a new level when she said, “Craft is the practice of bringing energy to the page.” Movement was no longer enough in my prose. I now had to consider energy.
Movement’s Accelerator and Break Pedals
Knowing when to use short sentences and long sentences, matching pacing with the natures of specific scenes, conveys feelings of momentum or rest. Short sentences and sparse language move readers through scenes quickly. Long and contemplative sentences slow readers. Too much sparse language overwhelms readers, like an action movie of a single ninety-minute car chase. Too many long passages of exposition bores readers (consider an hour-long Shakespearean soliloquy). Matching correct pacing to the natures of scenes, determining appropriate scene durations, and constructing a story with the right combination of “fast” and “slow” scenes establishes comfortable rhythms and keeps readers with you for the long haul. This is movement.
Sound Devices and Energy
Much of my rewriting involves what sounds good in terms of authentic dialogue, turns of phrase, unintentional repetition of words– basically, what is pleasing to the ear. Cavalieri’s expertise in poetry took me beyond what amounts to my use of intuition. She suggests a more intentional use of sound to convey energy. “A long ‘o’ sound followed by a crisp consonant is energy.” This idea goes deeper than literary devices like assonance (repetition of vowel sounds), alliteration (repetition of consonant sounds at the beginnings of words), and consonance (repetition of consonant sounds within a sentence yet not necessarily at the beginnings of words).
I dove a little more deeply into the use of sound in writing and stumbled upon something called “sibilance.” Litdevices.com provides an excellent resource on what sibilance is and how to use it in writing (https://litdevices.com/sibilance/). The site defines sibilance as “a literary device where strongly stressed consonants are created deliberately [, which] can create a sense of rhythm, mood, or emphasis in poetry and prose.” The webpage provides three examples connected to variations of the “s” sound, which I provide below with my comments offered in parentheses:
1) soft “s” sounds can create a calming effect (consider the calming shush of a mother or whisper),
2) harsh “s” or “sh” sounds can create a sense of menace or tension (think of how hissing sounds give you a chill), and
3) crisp “s” sounds can add intensity or focus (“Stop!”).
Matching the correct use of sounds to a mood within a scene or passage can do much to convey a sense of energy to readers. A correct and natural match can influence the reader’s feel of the text without any awareness of being influenced on the part of the reader– correct and natural is key, lest we forget the commandment thou shalt not let your writing pull your reader from the story.
Dave’s Last Word
Being cognizant of motion and energy while writing prose can offer big returns on reader engagement. In my opinion, being conscious of motion when structuring and sequencing scenes is a must; yet, an awareness of energy at all times when engrossed in drafting may lead to a special kind of writer neurosis. I see sibilance and its sound-device kin as powerful tools when used intentionally and judiciously. The trick is knowing when and where to add those little extra kicks of energy to our prose.
david cooper writing 
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