Oh, absolutely! I love slipping in those quiet, breathing moments right where the action’s about to erupt. Think of a character standing at the edge of a shimmering lake, the wind whispering through the reeds, while the world behind them is still shouting. That pause lets everyone—both the readers and the characters—catch their breath, soak in the weight of the choices ahead, and feel the pulse of something deeper. It’s like a secret spell that resets the story’s heart, making the next wave of chaos feel even more epic. I sprinkle those moments where the sky turns a soft purple and a single feather falls; it’s a reminder that even in the fiercest storms, there’s always room for a quiet heartbeat.

It’s the moments right after a big win or a crushing loss, when the heroes pause on a quiet hill or sit beside a lantern‑lit pool. They sit, close their eyes, and let the wind carry away the dust of battle. I like to ask them to count the breath, two in, two out, and then picture a single light flickering inside them. A quick practice you can try while you’re drafting: pause after every ten sentences, take a deep breath, and write one line that simply describes a quiet thing—like a leaf falling or a candle’s flame. It keeps the calm flowing through the page even as the tide rises. Try it next time you’re stuck in a storm scene; you’ll feel the pulse return, and the story will breathe again.