By Sabyasachi Roy
Flashbacks can be one of the greatest storytelling tools. But there is a catch (there always is, isn’t there). A flashback, as a misused literary tool, is one of the easiest ways to completely wreck a narrative. See, you have to use it well to add depth, emotion, and intrigue. If you fail to do it, your reader feels like they just got yanked out of a gripping scene and thrown headfirst into a history lecture.
So, how can you ensure that your flashbacks add value to your story instead of taking it in a different direction? Making them seem like a normal part of the experience—more like an organic memory emerging than a forced diversion—is crucial. Here’s how to get it right.
Let the Present Trigger the Past
A well-placed flashback doesn’t show up like an uninvited guest at a dinner party. It’s prompted by something—a smell, a song, a familiar voice. Maybe your character walks into a childhood home, and suddenly, the feel of the wooden floors under their feet sends them spiraling back to a summer evening twenty years ago. That’s a smooth transition. What’s not smooth? A character sipping coffee and—boom!—suddenly we’re in 1985 with no warning.
Memory works in weird, messy ways. People don’t think, Ah, yes, it’s time to remember that dramatic thing from ten years ago. No, it sneaks up on them. The scent of burnt toast, the weight of an old sweater—these little details crack open the past without breaking the flow of the story.
Short, Sharp, and Purposeful
Long, meandering flashbacks? They drag. Nobody wants to wade through five pages of childhood trauma while the main plot gathers dust. Keep it tight. Think of a flashback as a well-placed punch rather than an extended brawl. One or two key images, a snippet of dialogue, and boom—back to the present before the reader even thinks about checking their phone.
And please, make it matter. If the memory doesn’t reveal something that changes the way we see a character or shifts the stakes of the story, it doesn’t belong. A flashback should work like a missing puzzle piece, locking into place and making everything else clearer.
Emotional Weight Over Information Dump
Here’s a common mistake: using flashbacks as an excuse to unload a truckload of exposition. Readers don’t need a full history lesson on why your protagonist has trust issues. Instead, show a single charged moment—maybe their best friend once left them stranded at a train station, suitcase in hand. That hits harder than a paragraph explaining their general fear of abandonment.
It’s all about feeling. A flashback should land with emotional impact, not just provide background details. If it doesn’t make the reader feel something, it’s just filler. And filler? That’s the enemy.
Blend Past and Present Like a Pro
The best flashbacks don’t feel like interruptions—they feel like revelations. One trick? Start in the present, let the memory seep in naturally, then return without fanfare. No need for a dramatic shift in tense or a fancy “Little did she know…” lead-in. Just weave it in and out, like a thought that comes and goes.
For example, instead of this clunky setup:
“As she stared at the ring, she remembered the day she got it. It had been raining that afternoon. She was nineteen, sitting in a café…”
Try this:
She turned the ring on her finger. Rain against a café window, a nineteen-year-old version of herself waiting for someone who never showed. She let go of the memory.
See? No need for an awkward announcement—just slip in and out like it was never a big deal.
Final Thought: Don’t Abuse the Power
Look, while flashbacks are fantastic, they should not be used as an excuse to avoid creating gripping action in the present. If you find yourself depending too much on them, consider if your story is truly exciting at the moment or if you are merely using the drama from the past to keep things interesting. If it’s the latter, fix that first.
Bottom line? Use flashbacks sparingly, make them hit hard, and never—never—let them hijack your story. Do that, and you’ll have readers hanging onto every word, not skimming through the past to get back to the good stuff.
Bio: Sabyasachi Roy is primarily a Bengali poet from West Bengal, India. Writes in English from time to time. His poetry has been published in Stand, Poetry Salzburg Review, FourWsixteen, Linq, Quintessence, Voicesnet, Dicey Brown, Mindfire Renewed, The Potomac, 13th Warrior, and several print and online magazines
