Moment selection is about striking that delicate balance of what moments to expand into detail, and those that can be achieved in a sentence or two. When expanding upon a moment, it should be done so with intention. For each scene, there’s a concept called “late in and early out.” If, let’s say, Joe is meeting Bob for coffee and Bob tells Joe something important, we don’t need to see Joe get up in the morning, put on his clothes, drive to the coffee shop, and then meet up with Bob. That get ready and travel period should only be expanded if something about Joe is revealed that connects to the meeting with Bob. Or, it helps build the tension, culminating in a pivotal reveal in the coffee shop. In a screenplay, the scene will likely open with Joe at the table and Bob sitting down. Bob says, “I’m sorry, Joe, but your wife doesn’t love you.” And then the scene progresses. This technique is employed, especially in screenwriting, to keep the writing tight. The pacing keeps a steady rhythm, progressing the plot, keeping the audience engaged.

In writing my book, I break that rule. Why? Is this rogue attempt simply about being contrarian? No. I don’t think so. I’m trying to create a certain mental state for the reader to achieve. Indulging in those moments considered banal can create an interesting lens for the reader to view the rest of the story. Consider The Matrix: Reloaded. The underground rave scene where the humans of Zion dance, and Neo and Trinity embrace one another in a scene of love. Slow-motion. An ethereal techno beat. The story brings the audience into this interesting psychological state, activating an emotional component of wonder through musical meditation. Moving forward, one takes on this interesting mental state, seeing the remaining film play out. I believe the film would feel different if this scene didn’t exist.

So in my book, I’m using the characters’ interpretations of the world around them to invite the reader into their psyche, almost like a trance to get them engaged on this philosophical-emotional level. After re-reading the first few chapters, I’m being hypnotized in a sense. Those banal details now take on new meaning because the characters are seeing those transitional moments as existential experiences. The goal is not only to get the reader to see the world the characters see it, but to get them to feel the their unique truths.

Once the book is finished, it’ll be interesting to see if this approach works or is simply supplying the reader with redundant information, bogging down the progression. But so far, so good.