Originally Posted by Bret Ballou on 7/20/2012

Well, the Nobel Prize committee has snubbed me once again, denying me my award for both the DNA of a beginning and of an ending. But I’m not bitter. Nope. Not-at-all. Obliviously, the discovery of quasicrystals was more important than my identification of what makes a good story tick. I mean, look how many people use quasicrystals as compared to how many read or write novels.

Anyhow, a good scientist does not dwell. No, he does not. Especially not about something as important as quasicrystals. A good scientist moves on and keeps sciencethising (yes, I just discovered that word – I’m that good of a scientist – eat your heart out, Dan Shechtman and your quasicrystals). And I’m here to report my latest findings.

I decided to look even smaller than the “-ines” (Care-ine,  Voice-ine, Theme-ine, and Hook-ine) which are all present in books. I wanted to examine what, if any, particles comprised these “-ines”, like certain atoms form the building blocks for organic DNA.

I poured over the best books, picking apart their narrative structures and super-colliding their “-ines” (a very expensive endeavor). Sure enough, I found one of these more basic building blocks: A tensiontron.

A tensiontron, in the most layman of terms, is the particle which makes a reader want to know what happens next. Add in enough of them and a reader will have to know. Pump it all the way and they’ll bedying to know. At the max, a reader cannot sleep, eat, or perform basic functions until they’ve finished reading.

As some of the other Muses and commenters pointed out this week (in not as scientific terms), tensiontrons exist in a wide variety of formats: Emotional, Physical, Sexual, etc. They seem to coexist – even thrive – when in combination with many variations.

Interestingly, tensiontrons dictate much more than just story content. They govern grammar and sentence structure. Many times, I found shorter, punchier sentences as the number of tensiontrons increased. At times, grammar was the first to decay with an abundance of them, allowing for fragments and run-ons alike.

Please, use caution when experimenting with tensiontrons yourself. In order for them to create a proper “-ine”, they must be added in manageable doses. Shooting too many into a story at once becomes jarring for the reader and they’ll toss the book out the window.

I apologize if you’re struggling with my scientific jargon. Let’s work through a simple example together.

Shelby Snarfenburger was in Savannah on a hot summer day.

This statement has no tensiontrons, so let’s add a few, but not too many at once.

Shelby would’ve killed for a soda. Any soda. Diet or full-carb.

Now, there’s a definite charge to the story, but why stop there?  

As it happened, Danny walked by with a whole ice chest full of refreshing sodas. Tons of dietand full-carb.

More. More.

“Hey,” said Shelby, wiping sweat out of her eyes. “Gimme one of them sodas.”

“Sure thing.” Danny grinned as he passed by. “For five bucks.”

              Don’t stop now, but also don’t forget that you can add more than one variety at a time. Let’s spice this sucker up with some Emotional tensiontrons too.

“Ya stinker. I just lost my job,” Shelby hobbled after Danny, the effort making her thirst that much worse. “I don’t got stinking five bucks.”

That’s the ticket.

“Ain’t my problem.” Danny shrugged and left Shelby in the dust.

Shelby didn’t watch him go. Instead, she rubbed her head and mumbled to herself.

“Can’t a gal just catch one little break? Just one – stupid – drink. I worked so fricken hard and I can’t get one fricken sip?!”

Now, let’s jack the tensiontrons all the way – light the sucker up like the 4^th of July.

Danny, whistling a little tune to himself, crossed the street, completely oblivious to Shelby who’d just reached into her purse.

“All I wanted was just – one – stupid – drink.”

The Compact semi-automatic Smith & Wesson .45 ACP Chief's Special glinted in the blistering Carolina sun.

Whooo-wee. Now, I know it’s not the best writing in the world, but enough to demonstrate the power of tensiontrons.

Take that, quasicrystals. If this discovery doesn’t win me next year’s prize, nothing will.

When I draft a novel, I have a tendency to let my characters hang out. Maybe it’s just authorly wish-fulfilment, but I really want to be somewhere safe and comfortable, listening to Roar tell stories, smiling as Aria and Perry do something adorable. Sigh. Anyway, because of this subconscious desire, my first drafts are full of what my dear friend calls low temperature scenes.

A low temperature scene has little tension, and lacks stakes—emotional or physical. In a nutshell, it's not compelling. My job in revisions is to identify these scenes and add sources of conflict. Basically, I have to break up the party and bring the pain.

You want to feel like you're reading a book with this guy staring you down.
Tense, right? Or is that just me? It is? Nevermind.

I don’t have a real science for spiking the temperature to a fevery pitch in my scenes. Sometimes, the problem is a global issue. I might need to rethink the entire central problem, the foundation of the book, which then allows me to lift every scene’s temp to where it needs to be.

Many times, I find the problem is that I’m making my characters reactive. The plot happens to them, instead of them being the masters of their own story. This tendency spreads boredom and flatness through a manuscript like a plague. Characters who take charge (or even attempt to take charge) energize a story. Think of the people in your life who are active and involved. They didn’t start that business, run that marathon, travel to Fiji, by sitting around, did they? And how can high-impact stakes exist for characters who aren't striving and wanting?

What’s the solution to this problem? Goals. Characters need goals for each and every scene. The hang out party with my characters mentioned above? It would improve right away if I were trying to get Roar to tell a specific story. Character goals are a story’s turbo boosters. Use ‘em.

The above are macro changes, but tension and conflict should exist on the micro-level, too. This is an example of me revising:

• Are my characters agreeing too much in this scene?
• Why the heck are they agreeing? This is fiction!
• Are they facing a problem?
• Darn it, I need a better problem. What can they wrestle with here?
• Is there a sense of pace, of time chipping away, on each page?
• What-Why—Dangit! Why isn’t there a sense of urgency in this scene?

And so on and so forth.

So that’s me. How do you add tension and conflict to your stories? What are your secrets?

One of the primary elements in every great story is conflict.  More often than not, when I struggle to figure out why a scene or a chapter isn’t working, it usually comes down to conflict, or more accurately, lack thereof.   Without a conflict, a scene can read as boring, slow, or just plain pointless.   Even a subtle infusion of conflict can rescue an otherwise flat scene from the cutting room floor.

The online- Merriam-Webster Dictionary has three definitions of Conflict all of which apply to storytelling.

The third definition is the general definition of conflict as it applies to storytelling, so I’m going to take it out of order.

Definition 3: the opposition of persons or forces that gives rise to the dramatic action in a drama or fiction.

Opposition! Dramatic action!  All things we want to infuse in our fiction, right?  But how?  That’s where the more traditional definitions can guide us.

Definition 1: fight, battle, war

This definition is the literal application of conflict, reduced to its simplest form: an actual battle, physical fight or climactic showdown.  Battle scenes are conflict personified, full of action and opposition at every turn.  But not every scene in a 300 page novel can or should be a fight scene.  If we want to infuse every scene and chapter with conflict (and we do!), we need to delve beyond the physical manifestations of conflict into deeper territory.

Definition 2 a : competitive or opposing action of incompatibles : antagonistic state or action (as of divergent ideas, interests, or persons)

Now we are moving into more subtle territory.  Conflict can arise from differing ideas, interests or characters who oppose each other.  Opposing ideas can provide tension without devolving into a physical battle.  It is enough that the characters want something different, believe something different, or must compete for something they both want.  This type of conflict appears in novels in the form of opposing forces or ideas that directly conflict with the protagonist’s ideas or goals.  

Our protagonist’s path is paved with obstacles which must be confronted, and possibly overcome.  I say, "possibly," because obstacles that are easily overcome are not much better than no conflict at all.  Tension doesn’t come from obstacles alone- it comes from doubt.  If the reader doubts the outcome, they become invested in finding out how things turn out.  If every obstacle is easily and obviously defeated, there is no real conflict.      

            

"Opposing forces" conflict can arise when characters want different things, but one character can’t have what she wants without compromising what the opposing character wants.  Or the characters want the same thing, but only one can have it.  Or the characters have opposing ideas about how to get something they both want.  Or the characters want the same thing, but have opposing reasons for wanting it.  

Opposing forces do not necessarily come from other characters. The government, poverty, weather, wars, illness, and death are just some example of opposing forces that characters must deal with on their way to their story goal.

Although the definition calls this type of conflict “antagonistic,” you should not assume that this type of conflict is limited to conflicts between the protagonist and the antagonist.  Conflicts should exist in every scene, and so there must be conflicts between allies and supporters, as well as with the primary antagonist of the story.  That’s not to say that allies must always oppose the main character’s ideas or goals, but supporting characters are more interesting when they sometimes do, particularly if they have a good reason for doing so.   The conflict between allies can be more limited and subtle than the primary story conflict.  Sometimes it’s as simple as an ally supporting the primary goal, but disputing the protagonist’s chosen method for accomplishing it.  The characters could disagree over the reasons for taking a particular course of action, or they could just each need something different.  These sub-conflicts can influence the choices the characters make with respect to the primary conflict, and enrich your story on a deeper level.  
 

Definition 2 b : mental struggle resulting from incompatible or opposing needs, drives, wishes, or external or internal demands.

This is the most subtle, and I think the hardest kind of conflict to nail. I don’t usually have a problem with boring fight scenes or scenes where the characters have diametrically opposing views or ideas.  But what about quieter scenes between lovers, friends or allies, where the characters want or are working toward the same thing?  Or how about scenes where the character alone must make a decision or take some action. Where does conflict come into play?  

The clue is in the definition- “the mental struggle.”  This type of conflict stems not necessarily from opposing characters or forces battling the character (although it certainly can be informed by those things) but comes from opposing needs and desires within the character.  This kind of conflict manifests itself where a character must choose between competing needs and desires or competing demands on the character.  And, this kind of conflict is often the most gripping in a story, because it usually involves a moral or emotional choice.

Imagine a character falls in madly in love with his best friend’s girlfriend.  There is conflict inherent in the character’s competing desires- the love for the girl and the love for his best friend.  He can’t have one without sacrificing the other.  Neither the girl or the friend may be aware of the situation, so the conflict doesn't come from others.  Still there is conflict built right into this type of scenario, and I’m willing to bet it will play out with tension in every scene.  The character can’t interact with his best friend without feeling conflicted about his feelings for the girl.  And, he can’t interact with the girl, without feeling like he’s betraying his friend. Every choice the character makes will be informed by the conflict between his competing desires.

Everyone can relate to having competing desires or demands on our time.  Conflicting demands and desires lead to hard choices.  Hard choices mean sacrifices, big or small.  Sacrifices have repercussions.  And repercussions lead to more conflict.  Are you detecting a theme here?

The bottom line is that a scene without conflict is just not as interesting as a scene where something is at stake for the characters.  If you want the reader to be invested in the scene, than the character has to be invested in the scene; i.e. the outcome has to matter.  If you can keep the reader in doubt as to how the scene will be resolved, and make the outcome matter?  That's the definition of a page turner.

Originally Posted by Katherine Longshore on 7/17/2012

Just a short post from me today because my latest revision is causing all kinds of tension in the Longshore household.  As each revision brings me closer to the publication of Book 2, I get more tense and nervous because it means I will eventually come to the day when I can't revise anymore.  It will be set in stone (or ink as the case may be).

I've learned a lot about tension from Book 2.  It's not an action-packed book.  There are no super-villains, no car chases, and only a faintly ticking clock.  For the first half.  I was neck-deep in my first revision when I realized this.  And I thought, "Oh, crap, nothing happens.  No one will read this, because nothing will drive the reader forward."  I had no MacGuffin (thanks, Kristen, for posting about this yesterday!), breathing fire and growling in the background.  I had nothing.

Or so I thought.

However, my editor hadn't told me to give up.  To trash it.  To put it in a drawer and write something with some kind of plot.  I figured there must be something there.  Something other than action.  So I took a closer look.  And I revised.  And revised again.

There are other kinds of tension.  Emotional tension.  Sexual tension.  The tension that comes with foresight - when you know of impending doom, but the characters don't. (which, in a sense, is kind of a MacGuffin).  The tension of internal conflict.  Microtension.

I tried to explore all of these with Book 2.  I still am now.  Tension doesn't have to come from a big bad wolf.  Or a briefcase.  It can come from wanting so badly for two people to kiss that you have to go out and do it yourself.  It can come from knowing if your character says something - the right thing, at just the right moment - that everything will be OK.  And from knowing that he won't say it.  It can come from an ending you can see approaching like a train wreck, and not being able to avert your eyes.

Go explore tension, dear friends.  Once more into the breach go we.  Find me one more kind of tension.  One more feeling.  One more situation that makes your eyes water and your fingers itch.  And tell me.  Because the thing about tension is - at least in reading - you always want more.

Yeah.  But I can give it up anytime....

Originally posted by Donna Cooner on 10/23/2010

There is nothing better than fall in Colorado. As I write this, a horse drawn wagon filled with pumpkins and kids just clip-clopped down my street to the accompanying swirl of bright red leaves. There is a fresh dusting of snow on the Rocky Mountain Park’s 14ers in the distance, and the porches lining my neighborhood are decorated with ghosts and witches blowing in the crisp breeze. So I think it’s only natural my thoughts have turned to … SUSPENSE.

And that leads me to a confession. I know I’m going to date myself, but I loved Dark Shadows. I rushed home every afternoon after elementary school with my best friend, Marsha Courtney, to park in front of the television and scare ourselves silly. When Quentin’s Theme came on I would watch the screen through carefully spread fingers. So wanting to see—but so not wanting to see—the next scene. I happened to watch an episode of the old TV show a couple of years ago and was shocked at how different it was from my memory—horrible special effects and over the top camp—but it was the beginning of my love of suspense. Later in life that passion would become a love of Mary Stewart’s romantic suspense novels (Check out The Ivy Tree) and a wide variety of crime/detective mysteries. The common denominator remained the same. I loved not knowing for sure how things would turn out and I especially loved it when the stakes were dangerously high for the main character. Maybe it was life or death or maybe it was the potential for love lost—but there was a chance I might be surprised at the outcome—and that kept me reading.

In researching, I found “suspense” defined as a feeling of uncertainty and anxiety about the outcome of certain actions with tension being a primary emotion. Bingo. That delicious combination of anticipation and uncertainty about the future is exactly what makes me love a good suspenseful read and it made me start to ask some questions about my current work in progress:

 What’s at stake for my main character? Physically? Emotionally? Both?
 Is there a real possibility of unpredictability of the outcome?
 What’s the risk involved?
 Is there doubt about the outcome?

According to Greek philosopher Aristotle, suspense consists of having some real danger looming and a ray of hope. To me that’s a perfect definition for “narrative tension” and I hope it’s in every chapter I write. So join us this week as we explore the concept of suspense and let us know what you think.

Happy Halloween!