Topic Sentences in Fiction

Now don't scream. I know you have had quite enough of the topic of topic sentences back in your college composition courses. Well, that's what I teach, so I've had quite enough discussion also, of how the topic sentence is an essential organizational device in the non-fiction essay or paper, stating the point of the paragraph and keeping the paragraph unified and focused.

(What amuses me is that topic sentences are REALLY helpful—they really are—for both the writers and readers of essays. And yet many comp teachers sneer at them as "too directive" and "uncreative". Well, they're only as uncreative as the writer creating them, I think, so let's assume that topic sentences, from the pen of a good writer, are not only helpful organizationally but also intriguing. Organization, logic, coherence—these are not, in my view, the signs of an uncreative writer, far from it.)

But Theresa suggested I write about topic sentences in fiction paragraphs. Okay. Do you need a topic sentence in most fiction paragraphs? No—you don't usually or always need a statement of the point of the paragraph, because fiction paragraphs have other purposes than advancing an argument or analysis. But the first sentence of any paragraph is important, and so it behooves us to think about what we're starting with when we start a new paragraph.

First, I suppose, we should establish what a paragraph is. Again, this is a lot more diverse in fiction, but paragraphs are always units of meaning. Even if you have a series of short dialogue paragraphs, each paragraph itself should probably have some meaning, something the reader can read and get one step further into the story. So here's a perfectly meaningful paragraph (when following and leading into other paragraphs, of course):

"No."

We know, just reading that, that the speaker is denying, refusing, or disagreeing to something in the preceding paragraph. Meaningful—and it links to the preceding paragraph.

But here's a paragraph (at least it is separate from other text on the page) without any real meaning:

There were many reasons why he couldn't go. But he didn't tell her that. He gazed out the window at the green lawn and sighed.

See, nothing happens in that paragraph—nothing advances. There were many reasons, but we don't learn any of them. He doesn't speak. He just gazes and sighs, and the grass is green, not blue, so we don't even get surprise to make the paragraph interesting.

So the first question when you look at your paragraphs is--- why is this a paragraph? What meaning does it impart? What does it contribute to the passage?

The second question is, what unifies it as a paragraph? What is the paragraph ABOUT? Even if the first sentence doesn't state what it's about, you should know what the paragraph is about so that you can start it and end it at the right point, and throw anything out that doesn't belong. For example:

There were many reasons why he couldn't go. He didn't have any money. He couldn't take time off work. But as he glanced over at Miriam, he realized that no reason was good enough. Her baby sister was getting married, and Miriam wasn't about to go to the wedding without a man on her arm—and if not him, it could be some rent-a-stud from an escort service.

We stuck with that lousy first line, alas. (Reasons why? Eek.) But at least the paragraph is unified, as it moves from the reasons he couldn't go to the reason he better go. We can, however, revise to make that more meaningful and unified, starting with the start:

There were many reasons why he couldn't go.

"There were" is a really useful opening in some circumstances (I'm kinda fond of "It was" too). But with a stronger subject, we can make this more meaningful, and more clearly unified as "his" thought. Try:

Tom mentally listed some of the reasons he couldn't go: He didn't have any money. He couldn't take time off work.

"Tom" identifies the "actor" of the paragraph, adding to the unity because we know now that this paragraph is about Tom and his thoughts. "Mentally listed" puts this in his viewpoint, because only the POV character can mentally do anything (if it were just "Tom listed," it might be in someone else's POV, because he could be listing out loud).

See the colon there? (If it looks too formal, try a dash --) That adds unity by connecting that first sentence with the elaboration of the reasons. (Start with a capital letter after a colon if what follows is a full sentence. The colon is still a linking device, but you also are recognizing with the capital the completeness of what follows.) Also notice how it makes the beginning of the paragraph about "why not," and that opens up to the natural corollary of "why". So the paragraph is unified around the idea of "reasons".

What else helps unity? Well, the repetition of the keyword "reason" helps unify. Repetition is NOT a bad thing when it's keyword repetition, when the word is important and the repetition is meant to unify. In fact, if there's a way to use "reason" in that last sentence, well, that might add to the unity (but might also be really annoying J).

For some reason, maybe alliteration, maybe just trimming, I feel like replacing "wasn't about to go" with "refused to go".

Her baby sister was getting married, and Miriam refused to go to the wedding without a man on her arm—and if not him, it could be some rent-a-stud from an escort service.

Also maybe replace "if not him" with "if not Tom," just for clarity.

Now a mistake I see in paragraphing is to put at the end what ought to be the first sentence of the next paragraph. For example:

Tom mentally listed some of the reasons he couldn't go: He didn't have any money. He couldn't take time off work. But as he glanced over at Miriam, he realized that no reason was good enough. Her baby sister was getting married, and Miriam wasn't about to go to the wedding without a man on her arm—and if not him, it could be some rent-a-stud from an escort service. He and Miriam had met the first day of law school in their civil procedure class.

Notice that last sentence is about a new subject—no longer reasons to attend or not to attend the wedding, but how Tom and Miriam met. That should start a new paragraph about their meeting. Those of you who have an "ear" for the rhythm of paragraphs will hear the discordance there at the end. You might not know why, but you hear that the paragraph has gone on too long. Honor that instinct. Figure out what's wrong—what's sticking out of the roundness of the unified paragraph.

So don't put the "topic sentence" of one paragraph into another. Know what your paragraph is about, and unify around that.

Watch especially for this in descriptive passages. You know how some writing books tell you to use all five senses when you describe? Well, I have issues with that (your character's dominant perceptive mode should determine which sense is emphasized), but if you do want to do a full description, utilizing sight, sound, taste, touch, and smell, don't smush them altogether willy-nilly. Consider that your character is paying attention to one thing at a time. What comes first? Sight? So deal with sight first. Not enough for a full paragraph? Hmm. Are you really telling me you can't find three things to "see" at that moment? And then three things to "hear"? If you have a paragraph mostly about what is seen, but a sentence of "hearing" in the middle, you'll be breaking the unity of the description and disorienting the reader.

Just keep in mind -- paragraphs are units of meaning: unified and meaningful. Your reader is going to feel and hear the paragraph as a unit (if you do it right). Paragraphs should be tightly focused and carefully structured.

Oh, and you might have noticed that paragraphs are considerably shorter these days. Our attention span is shorter too. If you find your paragraphs going to half a page or more, then go back, analyze—what is the unit of meaning, and when does it change or shift? That's where to start a new paragraph.

Alicia