Yesterday, I discussed the use of flashbacks to help convey emotion in a scene. Today, I’m going to discuss verb tense in a flashback.
Many novice writers use the past perfect tense (if the novel is in past tense) or past tense (novel is in present tense) though the whole flashback. Here’s an example from my novel, Lost in a Heartbeat, which shows how not to write the flashback and then how to. I’ve highlighted the past perfect verb so it’s easy to see the difference. (Hint: you don't have to read far to get my point. Save yourself the time. You can just eyeball the difference.)
At his touch, common sense bailed on me. His lips were warm and inviting. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how much I wanted to kiss him, that undeniable pull. I returned his kiss, tasting his sweet, minty breath, not wanting the moment to end. But the memory of another came back to haunt me.
I had been in the car of the guy from last summer. He’d promised to drive me home since I had been feeling really weird. I had closed my eyes so the world would stop spinning, and had told him where I lived. The words had sounded strange, slurred and weary. I hadn’t been even sure he had heard me over the rock music booming through the enclosed space.
The car had eventually stopped and the engine had been turned off. But instead of familiar houses, darkness and trees had surrounded us. Beyond that I had been unable to see anything that would tell me where we were. I had wanted to ask him, but I had felt too out of it to string the words together.
The guy had leaned forward and kissed me. It had started out sweet. His lips brushing against mine. But as seconds had passed, it became insistent and punishing. I had wanted to push him away, to tell him to stop, but I had been unable to. My arms had lacked the strength to do anything but hang lifelessly at my sides.
He had continued to kiss me, his hand trailing up my inner thigh, past the hem of my skirt, and pausing for a breath at the junction where underwear had met thigh.
With tears streaming down my face, I pushed myself free, shoving him as hard as I could, and scrambled away.
“Shit! Calleigh, I’m sorry.”
A hand grabbed my left arm. I screamed and yanked my arm away then slugged my attacker in the face with the heel of my right hand like I’d seen on TV.
My wrist shrieked in pain.
Groaning loudly, the guy staggered back a step, his hand automatically going to his eye. It was then that I realized it was Aaron, not the guy from that night.
Whew! That was exhausting adding all those extra hads. Now, if you're writing that epic 200,000 + word novel, then go ahead and use as many hads as you want. Every extra word counts, right? And if you managed to read all of that, I commend you. I couldn't do it.
Okay for the rest of us, here's the correct way:
At his touch, common sense bailed on me. His lips were warm and inviting. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how much I wanted to kiss him, that undeniable pull. I returned his kiss, tasting his sweet, minty breath, not wanting the moment to end. But the memory of another came back to haunt me.
I was in the car of the guy from last summer. He’d promised to drive me home since I was feeling really weird. I closed my eyes so the world would stop spinning, and told him where I lived. The words sounded strange, slurred and weary. I wasn’t even sure he heard me over the rock music booming through the enclosed space.
The car eventually stopped and the engine was turned off. But instead of familiar houses, darkness and trees surrounded us. Beyond that I couldn’t see anything that would tell me where we were. I wanted to ask him, but I felt too out of it to string the words together.
The guy leaned forward and kissed me. It started out sweet. His lips brushing against mine. But as seconds passed, it became insistent and punishing. I wanted to push him away, to tell him to stop, but I couldn’t. My arms lacked the strength to do anything but hang lifelessly at my sides.
He continued to kiss me, his hand trailing up my inner thigh, past the hem of my skirt, and pausing for a breath at the junction where underwear met thigh.
With tears streaming down my face, I pushed myself free, shoving him as hard as I could, and scrambled away. . . .
See the difference? The second example allows you to be in the moment. It flows better. The first one is awkward. All you need to do is add one perfect past tense verb (had) at the beginning and at end of the flashback to show the transition in and out. If your novel is in present tense, then use past tense once when you’re starting and once when you’re about to jump back to the present.
You might have noticed I didn’t signal when the flashback ended. The sentence “With tears streaming down my face . . . .” is in the present moment, but Calleigh doesn’t realize it at that point. She and the reader realize her mistake after she reacts and hits Aaron. I didn’t transition with the change in verb tense because it’s obvious the flashback is over.
So there you go. A mini lesson on writing flashbacks. Do them correctly, and it’ll make a huge difference in your writing. The best thing to do is study how your favorite authors write them. You’ll learn a lot by doing that.