Building the Essential Linkages

Ten ways to craft the connective tissue your story needs.

- ELIZABETH SIMS

If the human body were composed only of organs, bones, and muscles, we'd merely be a bloody pile. We need connective tissue, so we don't fall apart.

Same with any structure, if you think about it. Put up a brick wall without mortar and see how that works out. Lumber won't stick to itself. Nails, rivets, bolts the right connectors at the places make the whole thing sound.

Fiction is a structured art form; therefore, it too needs bonding elements. For the sake of simplicity, let's call it connective tissue: the small, subtle things, the adroit stuff top authors do to make their stories feel seamless. Where are the characters? What are they thinking? What are they doing?

Here is a passage that could use some help:

They argued with no resolution. At work, Omar heard a sudden sound.

Here's a simple transition, embedded directly in the third-person narrative:

After the argument with Frances, Omar went home and ordered a pizza, though he didn't enjoy it much. The next day at work, he was running the macros on the new database when a sharp crack interrupted his concentration. A gunshot?

With this adjustment, we follow Omar from one piece of action to another, from one place to another in time and space, even from one mood to the next.

When a work of fiction feels choppy, it's often because the author has skipped from one place or character to another without enough help for the reader. And when a story feels labored or sludgy, it's because the author has put in too much connective tissue: It's overtold. This is one of those elements of fiction that are subtle and unquantifiable, and best understood by examples.

Let's start with the simplest sorts of connective tissue and move through to more intricate ones. (Spoilers from real novels and stories ahead.)

1. Dateline