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S. J. Rozan

S. J. Rozan has three pre-writing morning rituals: a shower, a walk, and several cups of Queen Anne’s tea. Her system must work well, her mystery series featuring private eyes, Lydia Chin and Bill Smith, is a winner. Between her novels and her short stories, she’s won an Edgar, Anthony, Shamus, Nero, and Macavity. Her Edgar--BEST NOVEL in 2003—was awarded for WINTER AND NIGHT. Here’s a piece where she empowers a pause and adds a fresh interpretation of body language.

Yeah, sure,” he said offhandedly, but a brief pause before he said it made me wonder how much he did know about the childhood Helen and I had shared.

He didn’t so much pause as seem caught up, blocked by the confusion of words. His shoulders moved, his hands twitched, as though they were trying to take over, to tell me something in the language he was used to using. “It’s not like that, Uncle Bill,” he said, his hands sliding apart, coming back together.

What did Rozan do that hooked the reader in the above section? She pulled us into this scene by empowering it with internalizations and nonverbal communication. This pause wasn’t a “beat.” This pause lead the reader into the character’s mind and ratified the reader’s emotional response by showing the character’s nonverbal (emotional) response.

If the above example had been analyzed for EMOTIONAL HITS in my Empowering Characters’ Emotions course, I would have awarded it nine points. For those of you who took the class . . . How many points did you give it?

Yeah, sure,” he said offhandedly (1), but a brief pause (2) before he said it made me wonder how much he did know about the childhood Helen and I had shared (3).

He didn’t so much pause as seem caught up (4, qualified the pause), blocked by the confusion of words. His shoulders moved (5), his hands twitched (6), as though they were trying to take over (7), to tell me something in the language he was used to using (8). “It’s not like that, Uncle Bill,” he said, his hands sliding apart, coming back together (9).

In Stone Quarry, Rozan noticed what doesn’t happen in the following scene. Smart lady. This piece is stellar. Great cadence.

A tall gray-haired woman stepped into the smoky room. No heads turned. No conversation stopped. She looked around her, reviewing and dismissing each face until she came to mine. She stayed still for a moment with no change of expression. Then she came toward me. Contained. Controlled.

S. J. Rozan captured my heart with the following piece from STONE QUARRY.

Weeks could go by without looking at that picture. Knowing it was there but feeling it only as a source of warmth. A hand on my shoulder. At those times I felt almost at peace. Sometimes I even thought I wanted to talk about it, although I didn’t know with whom. And I never tried. And then other times, like now, I’d walk by too close.

Too close.

And slice my heart on the sharp edges of Annie’s smile. And the old pain would well up from where it lived in the hollows of my bones and my eyes would grow hot. Ambushed by this aching I would stare, as I did now, into this picture that never changed. And wonder why I kept it here. Where it was so dangerous.

Did that work for you?

Try reading it out loud. Pay attention to the cadence. And how often she uses AND to propel the reader into the next sentence. This is the only place in the book where she uses AND multiple times to draw the reader in.

If you haven’t read STONE QUARRY . . . this chapter is worth the cost of a dozen how-to books combined.

Every time I read it, I slice my heart on the sharp edges of Annie’s smile.

S. J. Rozan, a gifted writer.