Category Archives: The Writing Life

A Good Old Fashioned Dogpile

My favorite currently airing comedy is Brooklyn Nine-Nine. If you haven’t seen it, think 30 Rock but set in a police precinct in Brooklyn. My wife and I are wrapping up a rewatch of the previous seasons, and during one episode the other day I got inspired for where to take my post in a month about tension. Comedic tension has a different emotional affect upon the audience than dramatic tension, but many of the core mechanisms at work are the same.

During the episode, NYPD detectives Jake and Amy offered to dog-sit for Captain Holt, the stern-but-lovable head of their precinct while he was flying overseas. His dog-sitter was forced to cancel (because plot), and they didn’t want him to miss his trip. The only problem was they were already supposed to be looking after fellow detective Charles, who had received laser eye surgery and was therefore temporarily blind, so they brought him along with them. Hijinks ensue, namely that, after nearly starting a fire and leaving the front door open to let the house air out, the detectives allow the dog to escape, and Captain Holt is alerted to the smoke alarm via his home monitoring system and calls from the airport saying he’s coming back.

Big, broad comedy, in other words. Capably written (and acted in the case of filmed content), this sort of scenario, where the bad news just keeps piling up and up and up into an ever-more-improbable mountain of trouble, can be very effective. There’s certainly nothing revolutionary about the technique, but there’s a reason this sort of thing is done so frequently in storytelling.

Jake and Amy call in the rest of the detectives (at least the ones with major speaking roles in the show) and they all set about trying to find the dog and fix the house, while another character attempts to stall Captain Holt. Jake and Amy, in the course of looking for the dog, manage to lose Charles (still blind) as well. It’s the most basic tension-raising technique there is: put the heroes in a difficult situation and turn up the heat. So why even write about it here?

Well, because care must be taken. Remember up there when I said “ever-more-improbable?” That improbable bit can work for a comedy shtick bordering on farce, but if there’s any verisimilitude to your world, particularly in the case of dramatic tension, playing too fast and loose with endlessly ramping up the challenges your heroes face can totally wreck your reader’s suspension of disbelief.

This can manifest itself in a couple of ways. The first involves the sum total of the problems the characters face. I’ve heard advice to the effect of “put your characters in a situation where the reader can’t imagine how they could ever get out of it.” While doing this can make the eventual solution all the more satisfying, definitely make sure you can imagine how they’ll get out of the situation.

An example I like to come back to involves the main villains in the Mass Effect trilogy of video games (spoilers). The Reapers are a race of immense, spacefaring machines which wipe out intelligence organic life in the Milky Way every 40,000 years or so. In the first game, a single Reaper, left as a vanguard, is able to overcome a substantial portion of the combined might of the galaxy’s fleets, and even then is only defeated when the player character is able to deactivate its defensive shielding. As the entire Reaper fleet, which makes its full appearance in Mass Effect 3, is hundreds or thousands strong, the idea that the remnants of the galactic fleet, still in recovery from the previous battle, could defeat them would be a ludicrous nerfing of the threat, (kind of like what eventually happened to the Borg between Star Trek: The Next Generation and Star Trek: Voyager. Readers expect and even require a certain degree of heightened reality, especially in genre fiction, but there are limits. Aware of this, I was fully expecting some kind of secret Reaper-destroying superweapon to come into play in Mass Effect 3, and I was not disappointed in that prediction (though plenty of other people were).

In summary, make your character’s problems seem insurmountable, but not actually be insurmountable, unless you are going for a whole George R.R. Martin vibe.

The second problem of stacking problems for your heroes is trickier to manage, because it has to do with how many problems can stack before suspension of disbelief fails. Another piece of advice I’ve heard is that you can use coincidence to create problems but never to solve them. But I believe even this has limits, and unless being the literal most unlucky person in the universe is your character’s super power, tread carefully. As with many things, proper set up is key. Just as solutions shouldn’t come from nowhere, problems should be foreshadowed whenever possible. This carries a bonus feature for eagle-eyed readers of building additional tension, Chekhov’s Gun style. This can be blatant, in the form of antagonist or villain POVs, or more subtle, some minor but nagging issue the protagonist doesn’t have time to deal with right now because they’re so busy saving the world. The best advice I can offer for how to pick your problem piles is the same as Brandon Sanderson likes to use to describe the best plot twists: “surprising yet inevitable.”

Sometimes the old ways are best. Just because a technique has been done a million times doesn’t mean it can’t be done well–or that it can’t be done poorly. But do the work upfront and think through the ramifications of your pile of tension, and you’ll reap the reward in your reader’s sweat.

About the Author: Gregory D. Littleheadshot

Rocket scientist by day, fantasy and science fiction author by night, Gregory D. Little began his writing career in high school when he and his friend wrote Star Wars fanfic before it was cool, passing a notebook around between (all right, during) classes. His first novel, Unwilling Souls, is available now from ebook retailers and trade paperback through Amazon.com. His short fiction can be found in The Colored Lens, A Game of Horns: A Red Unicorn Anthology, and Dragon Writers: An Anthology. He lives in Virginia with his wife and their yellow lab.

You can reach him at his website (www.gregorydlittle.com), his Twitter handle (@litgreg) or at his Author Page on Facebook.

 

Creating Tension in Mysteries

Mysteries are puzzles to be solved. Inherent in that puzzle is the expectation of tension created by the anticipation of a sympathetic sleuth’s ordeal and the promises made by the writer. There are a few points to be kept in mind to create tension in a mystery.

A good mystery writer incites anxiety, stress, dread, worry, speculation, fretting, and curiosity. Experiencing those emotions is what makes a story a page turner. How is this done? By creating sympathetic characters, characters to cheer for, and then throwing in mini-conflicts, obstacles, failures, and reminding us what’s at stake for the protagonist. It can be as simple as personal pride, a need not to be a failure, or as grand as a family member held as hostage.  Or, if they know the plan such as a schedule, or if characters reveal an agenda or secrets and the clock is ticking on those, the reader thinks they know what to expect but something gets screwed up, or the plans happen in a manner which propels the story and tension is created.

Characters who are care and can be cared about hook the reader emotionally. When readers care, they perceive tension when information is with held because they are empathizing and sympathizing. They want answers as much as the sleuth does. They worry knowing that the murderer lurks around the corner and the protagonist is headed right for him. Or, it’s about the presumed impact, abstract consequences in which the reader’s anticipation of what could happen escalates. Danger approaches, the sleuth is in peril and tension builds as the reader worries for the sleuth. Tension , however, isn’t all about action scenes. It can also be about the promise of danger.

The promise of danger is equally if not more effective than action itself. The moments between promises, the waiting, not knowing creates tension in mysteries. The false hopes of an answer – that red herring – an answer to a promise which bore no fruit, all of these create tension. As a writer you must ask yourself what you can promise that will go wrong? The rule about promises and action is this: anticipation creates tension while action is payoff and deflates tension and reader attention. Have you ever watched a movie, a television show or read a book where the sexual tension between two characters is high? Create a situation where they consummate that tension and poof! it is gone for the reader too.  That is also true of answering the big questions, solving the big pieces of the puzzle too soon.

Red herrings in mystery work because they don’t answer the big questions – they create more. The reader anticipates the conflict, the reasons for a the red herring’s actions, and the tension mounts because we really don’t know the truth, just that so much is implied. Then, we learn that the herring is red, the criminal is on the loose, the clock still ticks, and the mystery still is unresolved. It’s all part of a mystery’s story structure: creating clues that indicate one or more suspects, include red herring clues and suspects, lead the sleuth down specific paths in the maze of the investigation and eventually redirect the sleuth to the criminal. This structure is a framework for creating tension.

Tension in a mystery isn’t created by merely mentioning the crime or the criminal in the beginning, or by asking the great unresolved question in the beginning and then forgetting about it. The reader needs to be reminded, forced back to that unresolved question – what if the criminal isn’t captured? What if the lost jewels aren’t returned? What if? What if? How upsetting will it be if the sleuth loses?

Not answering questions immediately creates tension and in a mystery there are many opportunities for this. Sometimes a question needs to be answered quickly to propel a story forward. The path of the red herring was a dead and in the maze of the puzzle, so we must explore another path. Remember this rule though: If a question is answered immediately, it’s a small surprise with a small payoff. If it’s stretch out over several pages or chapters, it must have a big surprise with a big payoff. Put another way – each time a question is asked, a promise is made. Each time the stakes are raised a promise is made. Readers need you to deliver on those promises. If it’s the biggest crime of the century, then the payoff for the sleuth must be big. And, it can’t be predictable. Readers think they know what will happen, but they want to be surprised by the answer. Knowing that you will deliver on the surprise also creates tension because it leaves readers wondering what will happen next.

An effective, yet seldom talked about tool to create tension, is for the writer to know the antagonist intimately. In a mystery, the antagonist creates the inciting incident, the sleuth reacts, and then they escalate their reactions and actions. Toss in additional obstacles created by others, family, bosses, coworkers, the justice system, and we’re left wondering if our sleuth will succeed or fail.

Tension is also created when a protagonist cares about something other than just the mystery at hand – the son with the unsuitable fiancé, a homeless person, a pet, or a friend’s crisis. Any of these can conflict with and impact the sleuth’s ability to solve the greater mystery. Multiple conflicts lend themselves to a protagonist’s personal theme – we all know that patterns exist in our lives, we’re attracted to the same messes, we have a limited set of skills to approach them – choices must be made and through those decisions and actions, characters reveal themselves. More importantly, multiple conflicts lead to subplot which affects the sleuth and impacts the sleuth’s ability to solve the crime.

Sympathetic characters, a myriad of suspects, conflict both personal and professional, an antagonist who raises the stakes, promises and payoffs, and unresolved questions, these are the staples of creating tension in mysteries.

An End to New Beginnings…

I’ve really enjoyed this month’s Fictorians’ posts on new beginnings. As I am typing this, I am sitting in my newly finished basement, in the new house we built in 2016, and am about to head to the Superstars Writing Seminars. I’m also starting a new novel and looking forward to a new year.

Some of the posts I found the most interesting and helpful were those where the author embarked on a new direction after deciding a previous effort was not working out. Taking motivation from rejection, using a new start to rekindle a love of writing, taking a leap into a new genre… All of them were helpful and entertaining.

I hope our readers found them helpful. It was my deliberate desire to provide new writers, or writers who were dealing with difficulties and lack of motivation some encouragement and ideas.

I’d like to thank all of the Fictorians who posted, and would like to especially thank this month’s guest posters. As far as I’m concerned, you all hit it out of the park.

Now, on to Superstars!

Reset

Guest Post by Connie Schultz

This past year was a rough one for me; full of changes and growth and not nearly as much writing as I would’ve liked, I can sit here and tell you until I’m blue in the face that I did the best I could with what I had. But now I can show you. I can stick my money where my mouth is, and show you how worth it all of the challenges of 2016 were to me.

Behold the New Year’s mindset.

It’s got a sort of magic all its own, doesn’t it?

As I sit here writing this, the second day of 2017, bookstore attendants running around me (I can’t write at home—one of many things I discovered about myself last year), I can’t help but be excited by the idea of a new slate. And I certainly hope that this isn’t just me. Because this is more than just a time for me to prove that I can measure up to my goals and expectations for this year.

It’s your time to prove this to yourself as well.

As we step further into January, here are some ways to go about taking this new chance, and owning this fresh clean canvas we’ve all been given.

  1. Be Kind to Yourself

I’m still learning this one myself, to be honest with you. It’s hard, and more often than not I feel slightly dumb when I think about this, and then think about all the people pushing themselves to new heights, but this is a pivotal point to wrap your head around. It’s not easy doing new things, and growth takes time. How much harder will it be if you’re criticizing yourself every time you make a mistake?

  1. Set Aside Time Periodically to Make It a Habit

This is something you’ve probably heard several times, especially in regards to writing. J.K. Rowling once said to “be ruthless about protecting writing days,” and even if it’s just thirty minutes a day, or an hour on Sundays, I agree heavily that that is essential. Even if you have non-writing goals, be ruthless about protecting them. Write down what you want to complete over and over again as many times as it takes until you think about it so much that you’re dreaming about it at night. And then go do it.

  1. Never Give Up

Sometimes this is easier said than done. To keep going with a project idea when you just aren’t getting anything is hard. I’ve been there several times. It’s hard to not look down on yourself because you feel like you aren’t getting anywhere. But sometimes the only way to get around something, is to walk straight through it. Don’t let yourself give up just because you run into what feels like a brick wall. Grab your climbing gear and start pulling yourself up, because sometimes that’s the only way to continue moving forward.

  1. Don’t Forget to Have Fun

Writing is meant to be an enjoyable act. It’s taking the weird in your brain and making it tangible for all the world to see. It’s giving the inner child in you as much candy as you dare, and letting them run. As much as it can feel like work at times, and as much as part of it is work, don’t forget why you love this. Because at the end of the day, that’s why all of us stick around. Enjoy yourself. Love what you’re doing.

As much as some this probably feels like a rehash of the same old advice you’ve read a thousand times before, I think it’s important to hear all of this again. Because we’re human, and humans tend to have difficulty remembering things from time to time. Especially the things that can sometimes be vital to our sanity. So I hope that as you continue this month, typing or biking or sweating or whatever-else-you-plan-on-doing away, you come back to this. And maybe you smile, or maybe you sniff and click out of the window. But you’re here for a reason, and I admire you for remembering that.

Happy writing. And Happy New Year.

An interesting thing I’ve noticed as of late, is that there’s a distinct difference between waking up one morning to the realization that you’re just one day closer to the end of the month, and waking up to realize you’ve lasted another full rotation around the sun. Part of it, I think, is the hype we silly humans place on it—New Year’s and New Year’s Eve parties are the next big focus after Christmas, and boy do they come fast. The part that gets to me the most, though, is that this is another chance to make things how I want them to be. And even more personally, to become the writer and author I so strongly want to be.

My name is Connie Schultz, I’m 18, and currently attending community college to attain my bachelor’s in journalism. I love fantasy and science fiction, but if the blurb on the back catches my attention, I will read just about anything. Eventually I would like to write novels full-time, but if I happen to write articles for science magazines/anything else involving science, I wouldn’t mind that either.

Some of my favorite things: J.K. Rowling, Brandon Sanderson, Star Trek, Veritasium, Philip K. Dick, Neil Gaiman, Stranger Things, and also dogs, chocolate, and orange juice.