Sometimes We Don't Tell the Whole Story

Like every good and true resident of Chicagoland, I maintain a healthy respect for that wonderful weather anomaly called the Lake Effect (capital letters because it's just that important). The Lake Effect is fairly simple - sometimes, when weather comes blowing off Lake Michigan (or any other Great Lake), it can cause massive snowfall bursts in isolated areas, and the people at the weather desk have a terrible time predicting just what piece of real estate will be hit. Just the difference of a few miles can be the difference between flurries and a foot of snow coming out of nowhere. I am currently in one of those situations where they are expecting a big hit of Lake Effect snow - they just don't quite know where, when, or how much. And so, we wait. We see a flake fall and wonder if this is the beginning, or if it's just snow falling from a high branch. Patiently, we wait.

This is the art of suspense.

As writers, we are always told to inform the reader about the surroundings, the descriptions, the environment, and the challenges facing our heroes. However, sometimes it benefits the story when we leave out certain details, and just let the reader wonder when an event is going to happen. If our hero is searching through the villain's home one night, the amount of information we include can either contribute or delete the suspense factor, which is what engages the reader the most.

So, our hero is rummaging through the bad guy's home in search of something incriminating - a simple premise. There's a lingering sense of danger since this is an illegal act and getting caught doing it could lead to all kinds of problems. However, this is low-grade suspense, because there is no imminent threat. Now, let's upgrade the suspense. Perhaps the hero is doing this searching because he knows the bad guy is always out at the club at this time, but the hero's friend calls and says the bad guy never showed up at the club, or left the club early. Now there's an unknown - a sense of risk that danger could be close. Or maybe we include a scene where the bad guy is shown turning the car around to go home - the risk is even more severe because we know the bad guy is on a collision course with our hero. Now the reader is engaged.

Suspense comes in several forms, but they basically break down into two categories. First there is the maybe - the potential for something bad to happen. That's the Lake Effect factor; it might dump a pile of snow on me, it might not, but I have no way of knowing until it's over. This becomes a constant, slow-burn suspense because at any point things could change. The other form is the time-bomb factor; something bad will definitely happen, it's just a question of whether the hero can get out of the way before things blow up. The time-bomb factor is an easy rope-in because it is definite. It is 3... 2... 1... action, and the reader will mark time for the event to happen. Slow-burn suspense, however, can be drawn out indefinitely. A suspense novel often relies on 300+ pages of slow burn because the deadline is uncertain, or depends on conditions. In either case, however, suspense is what keeps readers engaged in stories, particularly those actions stories, when there is a lull between car chases.

Watch any suspense movie and diagnose how they play out the drama. The time-bomb factor or the slow-burn factor will create a different kind of story, and seeing how each one moves the viewer should give an excellent idea of which kind you should include in your stories.