Tag Archives: surprise

Surprise—and betrayal

This entry is part 4 of 26 in the series Tension, suspense and surprise

We haven’t touched on surprise too much, despite it being in the title of our series. There are two reasons I included it: the difference (or delicate balance) between suspense and surprise, and the fact that surprises can be used to create tension and suspense. But surprises can also be done very, very badly.

Most of the time, surprises shouldn’t come out of left field from the other side of the Green Monster. As writers, it can be very gratifying to pull one over on your readers. But it’s even more gratifying if you’ve surprised them despite the foreshadowing and clues you’ve planted throughout your story. Without something the reader can go back through and identify as a clue (“Oh, man, I should have seen it coming!”), they’re likely to feel betrayed.

The clues and foreshadowing can be a great tool to build an amorphous suspense. If you keep them vague but strong, that sense of foreboding will carry through your work, pulling the readers with it—and they’ll still be stunned when you pull off the big reveal.

But I think the worst kind of surprise is when we base a surprise on something the point of view character already knows but hasn’t told the reader. To me, that’s basically lying—leading the reader to believe that we’ll all be together and we’ll tell the reader everything, but holding back the one thing that our character would know or think or realize that would make the experience complete for the reader.

I don’t mean that we have to spell out everything the character knows the exact second he or she knows it—or have the characters spill their guts to one another. But if the main character has known the truth all along—or they came into the story knowing some arcane fact that’s going to solve the case—that’s the kind of surprise that’s going to ring false to a reader unless it’s supposed to be the point of the whole story (and even then . . . ouch).

So how much foreshadowing is enough? It depends on how big the surprise is—and how central it is to the plot. (Helpful, I know.)

What do you think? How have surprises you’ve read (or written) fallen flat?

Photo by Benson Kua

Is it suspense or surprise?

This entry is part 15 of 26 in the series Tension, suspense and surprise

This series on Tension, Suspense and Surprise is now available as a free PDF!

Surprise and suspense might seem like polar opposites to be included in the same series. After all, one is all about making promises and putting off their fulfillment, while the other comes out of nowhere. But really, I think they’re just two ways of handling all the new information you’ll give readers in a story—and in some ways, they’re just opposite ends of a spectrum.

You’ve got a huge event coming in your novel, and you have two choices. You can lead up to it with a lot of anticipation, promises, foreshadowing and/or dramatic irony—building suspense. Or you can throw your readers for a loop and just drop it on them (though at least a little foreshadowing is usually good here—hence the spectrum).

Alfred Hitchcock has famously explained the difference (emphasis added):

There is a distinct difference between ‘suspense’ and ‘surprise’, and yet many pictures continually confuse the two. I’ll explain what I mean.

We are now having a very innocent little chat. Let us suppose that there is a bomb underneath this table between us. Nothing happens, and then all of a sudden, ‘Boom!’ There is an explosion. The public is surprised, but prior to this surprise, it has seen an absolutely ordinary scene, of no special consequence. Now, let us take a suspense situation. The bomb is underneath the table, and the public knows it, probably because they have seen the anarchist place it there. The public is aware that the bomb is going to explode at one o’clock and there is a clock in the décor. The public can see that it is a quarter to one. In these conditions this same innocuous conversation becomes fascinating because the public is participating in the scene.

The audience is longing to warn the characters on the screen: ‘You shouldn’t be talking about such trivial matters. There’s a bomb underneath you and it’s about to explode!’

In the first case we have given the public fifteen seconds of surprise at the moment of the explosion. In the second case we have provided them with fifteen minutes of suspense. The conclusion is that whenever possible the public must be informed. Except when the surprise is a twist, that is, when the unexpected ending is, in itself, the highlight of the story.

Hitchcock by François Truffaut, p 79-80, as quoted by senses of cinema

Not to disagree with my good friend Alfred, but both surprise and suspense are important. For major events and big promises, suspense is generally better. But for smaller events—especially things that don’t need the extra explaining and won’t live up to the level of suspense—surprise is a great thing.

If we lead up to all the events in a story, we run the risk of being too predictable. If we lead up to none of them, our readers are more likely to experience PTSD than suspense. One is probably better for your event and your story.

How do you determine whether your event should be a surprise or be used to create suspense? Hitchcock’s guideline is a starting place: if it’s a twist ending, surprise is pretty dang important. On the other hand, if that surprise would heighten the suspense throughout the book (without dragging it out too much) and if you can set it up for the audience to know without informing the characters, you could think about whether you could use the extra layer of suspense.

Conversely, consider whether you spend too long building up to minor events—what if you cut all the foreshadowing? Would the reader be slighted or delighted when the surprise is sprung?

What do you think? How do you decide whether an event will be used for suspense or surprise?

Photo by Jeremy Stanley

Finding your weakness

This entry is part 11 of 26 in the series Tension, suspense and surprise

When it comes to tension, suspense and surprise, it’s very hard to find your own weaknesses. Or, sometimes, to admit them.

Hi. I’m Jordan, and sometimes I write boring crap. And I leave it in. Even though people tell me it’s boring.

I’m trying to get better. (Hence this series.) But the more I work on specific areas in my writing, the more I realize I need help, and I may always need help. I think I’m probably not alone. Most of us allow at least a little indulgence as we’re drafting—words, lines, paragraphs or scenes that don’t necessarily move the story forward. And then sometimes we get a little too attached.

The fact is, when you’re still in love with your characters and your story, you’re more than willing to read the scenes that don’t really move the story along. One way to counteract this is to set the story aside. Yes, we’re always told to do this, and this is a big reason why. Set it aside for 6 months to a year and give yourself some distance from the work.

I am so not that patient. Once I’ve patched up the glaring holes and inconsistencies I know I’ve created, I’m willing to let my work go to one or two of my beta readers to make sure there aren’t any big structural/common sense/plot holes I missed. I’m okay with them taking a few months—but the minute I get their notes back, I’m ready to jump in again. That’s usually not long enough. (I also have a fairly good memory.)

Those beta readers and critique partners help in other ways, too. As far more impartial readers who want to help you make your story better (we hope), they have a vested interest in helping you eliminate all the weaknesses. They aren’t as attached to your story and your characters, so they are better at identifying places that don’t do much to move the story forward—the parts where their attention starts wandering. (Also helpful: the parts where they don’t know what you’re talking about.)

Tomorrow we’ll look at what you can do to find those weak tension points yourself—once you’re ready to let go of those things you love so much.

What do you think? How do you get help in identifying which parts drag?

Photo credit: Big Eagle Owl

Wrapping up the suspense: Act III

This entry is part 10 of 26 in the series Tension, suspense and surprise

Eventually, all suspense and tension must be released—since anticipation is the source of suspense and tension, it’s probably not fair to readers not to eventually satisfy that anticipation. Naturally, this will happen to some extent throughout the story as we build up anticipation for events along the way. But the overarching suspense of the story reaches its ultimate payoff in the last part of the story, in the final act.

In fact, Raymond Obstfeld refers to Act III as The Payoff in Fiction First Aid. Here, we have to satisfy all that suspense we’ve worked so hard to build—and that payoff had better be commensurate with the anticipation, or our readers will feel cheated.

Obstfeld says, “The key to a good payoff is not to give the reader what you think they want” (55). That’s not to say that the hero and heroine shouldn’t get together in a romance (they should), or that the hero can’t catch the villain in a thriller (he should). It does mean that giving the reader exactly what you promised all along and only that is not enough to reward the suspense you’ve created for that goal.

This is a common reason why we don’t like the way a book ends. I read a book last year where the entire book was about the heroine learning about others and herself—but at the end, she went back and did the same thing she’d been planning to all along (and it was rushed). All along, I was promised some revelatory, life-changing experience, but in the end, the character didn’t change.

After spending hundreds of pages with these characters being thwarted in their quests, yes, they have to see some measure of success in the end (unless this is a tragedy, I guess). But that hard-won success probably shouldn’t just be the exact thing they’ve looked for all along. Take Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. Indy is reluctantly dragged into looking for the Holy Grail, which he doesn’t really believe exists. What does he find in the end? (Yeah, he finds the grail—but is that all?)

A good payoff is both unexpected in some way and commensurate with the suspense the author has created.

What do you think? How else do we see suspense in Act III?

Photo and baking credit: Heartlover1717

Keeping the suspense in the middle of your structure

This entry is part 8 of 26 in the series Tension, suspense and surprise

Oh, the sagging middle. The bane of most Americans’ existence. And also tough for writers 😉 .

The sagging middle is where we can start to feel a little lost. Even if we’ve done a good job establishing conflicts and the stakes in the first part of the story, sometimes the middle has us feeling like we’re running in circles or spinning our wheels. Are our characters making progress, or are all these obstacles we put in their way (because you are putting obstacles in their way, right?) starting to make them wander aimlessly?

In Fiction First Aid, Raymond Obstfeld acknowledges that this part of the book is a challenge—as we try to make the story more difficult for the characters, it’s often more difficult for us.

But he also offers a structural solution. He explains that Act II is The Complication where we “increase [the] suspense by complicating [the] plot through increasing stakes and/or decreasing [the] ability of [the] character to achieve [his/her] goal.”

So in Act I, we established the stakes—whether the character will lose his job or let a killer go free if the hero fails. In Act II, we increase the negative consequences of failure—the character will go to jail or the killer will go on a rampage if the hero fails.

Also, we can “inhibit [the characters’] ability to get what they want.” The guy clinging to his job tries to do something to impress his boss, but it backfires and ruins a major project. The hero after a killer gets suspended from the force/agency/whatever after his drive takes him just a little too far.

Interestingly, many plotting methods and structures have specific events designed to accomplish these things. In Larry Brooks’s Story Structure, for example, Act II contains two “pinch points” that are designed to raise the stakes by showing us just how bad the villain is. Even the Mid-Point is designed to help with this, showing the hero more to the story, changing the way he views the world.

Simply establishing suspense in Act I isn’t enough. We have to build on it in Act II to keep our readers reading—and hooked.

What do you think? What other ways can we increase the suspense and keep the tension high in Act II?

Photo credit: Todd Stadler

Conflict and suspense in structure: Act I

This entry is part 6 of 26 in the series Tension, suspense and surprise

Yesterday we established that conflict is the source of suspense and tension, and what gives meaning to surprise. Combined with structure, we can create a plot with enough suspense and tension to keep our readers engaged.

In Raymond Obstfeld’s Fiction First Aid, he looks at the intersection of conflict, suspense and plot, taking it act by act in the three-act structure. This week, we’ll take a look at his structure for creating suspense.

Obstfeld defines suspense creation as “a series of . . . promise-payoff scenes.” In act I, the setup, we establish the conflicts and the stakes to create suspense. Says Obstfeld:

  • Plot conflict. This focuses on what the characters are pursuing. It could be a romantic relationship, money, a new job, an education—anything they think will make them happier.
  • Character conflict. This focuses on the internal/emotional problems that get in the way of the characters achieving what they think will make them happier. In fact, this conflict may involve the characters pursuing the wrong goal, one that the reader realizes won’t make them happier.
  • Stakes. This focuses on the intensity with which the plot conflict affects the characters.

Now I’ll turn it over to you. How do these elements work to create suspense in the first quarter of a book?

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The source of tension, suspense and surprise

This entry is part 5 of 26 in the series Tension, suspense and surprise

This may be a little obvious, but the most basic source of tension, suspense and surprise is conflict. We all know it makes a good story, but it can also make a story great.

All techniques to create suspense and tension have conflict at their heart. Just check out my 37 ways to increase suspense and tension—most of them involve creating or highlighting conflict.

Obviously, most of the external plot and internal conflict come from conflict—the obstacles that stand between our protagonist(s) and their goal. That will be the main source of the suspense that keeps the readers wanting to know more.

However, on a smaller level, conflict within a scene establishes and heightens the tension. This is one reason why it’s so important to have a scene goal for the character—once the character wants something, it’s easy to bring in that conflict, to prevent them from getting that goal. A story where the character decides he wants chips, goes in the kitchen and gets chips . . . well, it really isn’t a story, is it?

Rather than being an element to create surprise, conflict is important in making a surprise matter. An unexpected event has a much bigger impact if that surprise creates conflict. Take Jane Eyre. (If you’ve never read it, SPOILER ALERT.) Jane and her employer, Mr. Rochester, fall in love. Imagine if the surprise revealed at their wedding is that the source of the spooky noises in the mansion was his crazy sister? “Oh, well, you have a questionable genes. I still do.” The end. But his crazy wife? That’s a real surprise—and a real conflict.

Conflict, on a macro level and a micro level, is not just the heart of a story—it’s the heart of suspense and tension, as well. It’s what makes the events—and especially surprises—of a story matter to us.

What do you think? How else can conflict create suspense, tension or surprise?

Photo credit: Cristian V.

The tension begins

This entry is part 2 of 26 in the series Tension, suspense and surprise

The suspense is killing me! I hope it will last.

—Oscar Wilde

Today we’re kicking off our series on tension, suspense and surprise. (I mean . . . surprise!)

It’s easy to look at those elements and think, “Oh, that’s good for a mystery or a romance, but my story doesn’t need those things” or “I’m not writing suspense, why does that matter?” But really, every story should have suspense, tension and surprise. Why are these elements so important? They’re what keep readers reading. Sadly, readers aren’t as indulgent as your friends and critique partners—we have to give them a reason to believe read on.

tss series medSo what’s the difference between the three? Surprise is fairly obvious, but suspense and tension are often used interchangeably (and I’m sure at least some of my sources won’t use the same terminology that I’m choosing). However, for the purposes of this series, I’m going to use “suspense” to mean things that propel us forward in the story—things that make us want to read the next scene. “Tension” will be the events within a scene that keep us from skipping that scene to get to see the next one 😉 .

In other words, tension is a scene-level (or page-level, since we will be looking at Donald Maass’s book) element—something that makes this particular scene interesting, that makes us care about it as readers. Suspense is the larger, overarching thing that keeps us reading once the scene is over—though, like I said, there’s plenty of overlap in those areas anyway.

Surprise, like I said, is fairly obvious. An unexpected event occurs. (This would be a counterexample.)

All three are necessary for a good story. I like the way Noah Lukeman puts it in The Plot Thickens: 8 Ways to Bring Fiction to Life: “Suspense, more than any other element, affects the immediate, short term experience of the work” (119). Tension can be used to create that suspense, compel readers to read through the scenes themselves and keep them interested. Surprise is important because, well, nobody wants to read a story where they already know everything that’s going to happen!

So for . . . the next little while, we’re going to look at how (and how not to) create tension and suspense, how to use them, and how and when to use surprise.

What do you think? How would you differentiate between suspense and tension? What areas or topics interest you most for these elements?

Photo credit: Aart von Bezooyen