Building Tension through Planning

[Making a Plan: source]

 I've been blogging about how to write in a more literary fashion. Before I launch into that, I have to make a quick plug. The first installment in my kids' chapter book series, Doomimals, is now available on Amazon. This is just the beginning of a major saga we have planned. I have the first ten books drafted and many beyond that planned. It's about three kids and their animal protectors saving the world from the minions of the evil Bird and the Dog of War. If you're interested, you can pick up a copy here. Today's topic is planning and is not specific about literary writing but about writing in general. There are conventions are a character in a story making plans. They're simple but must be remembered as a way to build tension in the reader.

[When the Plan Goes Wrong: Source]

Most people have read a book or seen a show in which a character gives very specific details of a plan for something they're about to do. Now, predict what happens. Of course, the plan goes wrong. I've read books in which the plan goes RIGHT. When that's the case, the reader is bored because they see the plan, they see the plan executed, then they see characters chat over what just happened. With teaching, with real life, this is the idea. But in storytelling, it's a great way to bore (read: lose) the reader. SOMETHING in the plan has to go wrong, or your reader will be unimpressed. I'm sure you can think of several examples of plans falling apart right now. The plan sets the template of how it's supposed to work and foreshadows that something will go wrong.  The reader is on the watch for that something. It actually amps up tension anticipating this. 

["I love it when a plan comes together." Source]

If, however, your characters are actually going to complete their plan, the narration should get vague about what's about to happen. "Joan and Simon made a quick plan about how to break their father out of jail." Something like that works fine. When I read that in a narration, I know it will likely work. However, you can twist the reader's sense of what's coming by getting vague and then have things fall apart anyway. It may be a bit frustrating because the reader doesn't know how things should work in the first place, but if the plan isn't central, it can still work. Not sharing the plan builds tension because the reader will follow along with the characters and see them execute the plan as it happens. 

[Planning toward Tension: Source]

Either way, a plan is a useful technique for building tension. Think of shows like "Mission Impossible" or "Oceans 11." The parts of the plan that will go wrong are laid out in detail, so the reader can view them as a template for what should happen vs what does happen. Particularly in the Oceans series, the audience is not party to the plan until it's executed. There are parts of it we don't learn until after it's executed to provide plot twists and unexpected events. We, the audience, find out what the full plan was along with the antagonist, who only finds out how badly he lost after he did so. This step beyond creates both tension and excitement. 

[Your turn: Source]

Read or watch shows in which the plan is discussed and doesn't work or glossed over when it does. Is there a point in your story in which you can use this pattern? Is there a place where it's useful to only show parts of the plan after the fact? Can you amp up your reader's tension by showing how it should work? Give me examples of either in the comments. 

A Focus on the Future

[The future; source]

I've been blogging for over seven years on how to write in a more meaningful and literary fashion. One important technique is to hint at what is to come in the story. It keeps the narrative and the reader focused on the end or at least the next step. It also can hint at some kind of fate or destiny, to make that future feel bigger and more important than just one character. There are multiple ways to do that. 

[Prophecies; source]

The most obvious way to point to the future of the story is through a prophecy. 20+ years ago, almost every story featured some plucky child of prophecy. The protagonist may have been princes, princesses, wizards, peasants, knights, or just a regular human, but they all featured prominently in a prophecy. Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, and so many others appeared prominently in a prophecy. In the case of Harry Potter, he was one of two who could have fulfilled the prophecy. One way or another, many characters are made special and unique through the prophecy trope. 

[Foreseeing the future; source]

Some still do today, though child of prophecy has fallen out of favor mostly because this trope has been so overused. There's often no meaning or depth to this prophecy, just a trick of the narrative that arbitrarily singles out one character above all others. This is no longer a recommended trope; however, prophecy can still used on occasion. If you're going to use it, I'd recommend finding a way to be subtle, more like signs and foretellings point to events happening or a nebulous prophecy that doesn't explicitly point to one character being a child or prophecy. Better yet, it can be used ironically or in some new or unexpected way. 

[Romeo and Juliet; source]

A lot of literary fiction uses foretelling to hint at events to come and to direct the drama of the story. Foretelling is a technique whereby the author comes out and tells the reader what is coming, like the beginning of Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet." Most people have heard the line that tells us, "A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life;/Whose misadventured piteous overthrows/Do with their death bury their parents’ strife." There's no beating around the bush, no hinting. The author just tells us what's coming. 

[From question to question; source]

I read a book wherein almost every chapter starts with something like, "I didn't know then that everything was going to blow up in my face." We have a hint and then become hyperfocused on how everything will blow up. The question of how becomes the question that builds tension and excitement. The reader keeps going because no sooner is one such question answered than another appears. It carries us through. I haven't seen this a lot in modern literature, but it can be powerful when used right. 

[Foreshadowing death; source]

A more common technique even with modern fiction is foreshadowing. Hints in the world, in the narrative, in the dialogue hint at something momentous about to occur. Two characters walk through a cemetery, and the shadows touch on one of them. The cold wind sends a shudder like death down his spine. A sense of foreboding builds up in the protagonist. Everything for pages point to his death, and then, he's poisoned or some such. It feels potent, meaningful, and inevitable. The very world of the story has been preparing us for that loss, building the tension. 

Think of how you may use a focus on the future to help build tension for your reader. Is there some way to bring in prophecy, foretelling, or foreshadowing? 

Character Arcing and Sparking

[Character is story: source]

I've been blogging about how to write any piece more literary. Character is story; story is character.  If your story isn't about your character's voyage on at least some level, there's a good chance your character will fall flat.  Even the hero's journey is supposed to show a hero's growth from some who denies the call to adventure to a master of both worlds. Otherwise, no matter what else happens in a story, a big part of it should be the protagonist's story arc, or your story will lack the spark that will make it resonate.  

[Velveteen Rabbit-source]

Even children's books can be about character growth through lessons learned, though there are still plenty of fun kids' stories about flat characters. If the characters of books like Captain Underpants did learn their lesson, the stories that grow out of their irresponsibility would dry up. But other children's books often show a child, or child stand-in like an animal, making discoveries and learning about their world. These are often Bildungsroman, coming-of-age stories about the child's discovery of the world. The beloved and ageless "Velveteen Rabbit" shows a story of growth of a stuffed animal to real rabbit capable of emotion and love because of the love of a child. The lesson taught by children's books may be about love, responsibility, or any other lesson the reader is supposed to learn. But the lesson is learned through the discoveries of the main character in a story, through a story arc.  

[Harry Potter's development--source]

Different authors and experts on writing describe this character arc differently.  Some show a mastery of magic, fighting, or other skill, a growth of a character trait, a movement from misunderstanding to understanding.  One way or another, it's about character development. If your character starts out perfect, there's no arc, nowhere to go. We can all imagine a wide variety of stories with the spark of character development.  Harry Potter grows from a lonely, scared child wondering if he'll ever fit in to a self-assured young man with friends and family who love him.  His mastery of magic is only a piece of this because he is meant to represent muggle children in the real world who grow into their own.  His growth happens one step, one lesson, one understanding at a time. Just as he turns one misunderstanding into understanding, he discovers another piece to the puzzle.  

[Elsa--source]

Movies and shows feature the same sort of character arcs, where it's clear the author planned the growth in advance, though the character makes the development one step at a time, especially when the story's primary audience is for children. Elsa of Frozen depends on her parents, thinking they can protect her from the world, then loses her parents and has to adapt to a world wherein she is in charge but not in control.  She continues to live the secluded life her parents taught her would protect her with her powers (code for disabilities). Then, she's forced out of her seclusion to take charge, only to do the very thing she most feared by displaying her power/disability, banishing herself to that same isolation. 

[Character growth/making connections--source]

She has grown to understand her parents and isolation at home won't protect her, so she isolates herself apart from others. She proclaims her independence to the rattle of her chains that still lock her to the misunderstanding of her youth. Only after her sister shows her how to love does she learn she can still be herself and make a human connections, overcoming that isolation imposed on her in her youth.  She does, indeed, become the master of both worlds. 

[70s Hulk--source]

Movies and shows for adults do it as well, though not all do.  "The Incredible Hulk" from the seventies showed a character stuck in his prison of isolation, migrating from one place to another, seeking understanding but never learning to accept all of himself.  The show ended with his character, always in pursuit of understanding but never really gaining it, ending his journey by defeating the bad guys in an explosion on a plane and falling (as Hulk) to the pavement, dying as Banner.  He never did overcome his demons, literally or figuratively because to allow him to grow would end the story.  

[MCU Hulk-source]

The recent MCU "Incredible Hulk" picked up the story where its predecessor left off, with Banner wandering the world, hiding away and treating the Hulk like a curse or disease for which he sought a cure. Its creators showed their loyalty and connection to that earlier show through the use of the familiar refrain of "The Lonely Man." But when he fell from an exploding flight as banner, hitting the pavement (with the same angles used to show the fall), he emerged as Hulk. Over the course of the MCU storytelling, he grew to first accept the Hulk then work with him, treating him almost like a friend, then, as of the most recent movie, merging with him to become "Professor Hulk," mastering the worlds of intellect and strength. This character took 40(ish) years to complete his story arc from fear and isolation to acceptance of the whole self.  

Read and watch stories with good character development and watch how they do it. What is/are your characters' arcs?  What growth or understanding does she/he/they attain?  What steps can you pursue with each scene, each chapter to get the character(s) to where they need to be?  

Avoiding Now-What?-itis.

 

[Trap! Source]

I've been blogging about making your writing more meaningful, more literary.  In this blog, I'll be writing about how to avoid building up so much excitement with your brilliant and intricately plotted first installment only to wind up with a mess in later works.  It's an easy trap to fall into if you don't plan in advance for where to go next with your story.  

[When part 1 and possibly even part 2 works--Batman-Source]

We've all seen it.  You watch the first season of a show like "Heroes" or "Lois & Clark" so many others, or you watch a first movie(s) like "Lilo and Stitch" or the nineties "Batman" (one and two) or the 2002 "Spider-man" (one and two), and so many others. You decide that is so well plotted with such great characters you can't wait to come back for more.  Then, you do come back for more, only to find it disappointing or even painful.  You think to yourself, "What gives?"  In many cases, it's that the creators focused so heavily on the design of season/movie one or even two then ran out of originally planned story.  They're left asking, "So, now what?"  What comes next is floundering to catch the magic of part one or even parts one and two but never succeeds. 

[Superman can work or not--source]

Part one is where creators/authors establish the world and characters then give a spectacular plot, or they'll lose audience/readership.  But if you complete your protagonist's story arc, if the sexual tension concludes, the primary antagonist dies or disappears, or the main struggle presented in season one ends somehow, the author(s) then have to come up a whole new story, a whole new reason for drama.  At the end of season one, the brilliantly plotted "Heroes" characters save the cheerleader and solve the problems central to first season.  At the end of season one of "Lois & Clark," the central dramas of sexual tension and romantic rivalry provided by the ever-plotting Lex Luthor wrap up.  Both series floundered and had a hard time finding footing because the arcs designed were over.  You could almost hear the writers say, "Now what?"  What came next in both cases was disappointing and lost audiences.  This is a trap to be avoided.  You may focus such time, attention, and intensity on book one only to say, "Now what?" to yourself.  

[Superman from the Beginning--source]

It's possible to have a semi-successful part one only to get better and better as the writers focus on deepening characters and plot already established.  For instance, "Smallville" started with a very formulaic season one that built an audience successfully enough to make a season two. Then, it built characters and plot, continuing to deepen and complexify a young Clark Kent's voyage from teenager to Super Man. Season one ends on a satisfying note that wraps up some storylines but then makes it clear there is more to the story. Those who kept watching all the way to season 10 got an overall conclusion to his voyage with Clark fulfilling his destiny.  One can argue the success or failure of each character or story arc or season, but the fact that it continued with a loyal audience to the end shows that it teaches a lesson worth telling on storytelling.   

[Writing-source]

But what would be better yet is to have an overall character arc and central plotting that go beyond part/season one.  Conceptualize the story AS IF you're going to make it past a spectacular season/book one.  Be ready with an overall story that has satisfying mini conclusions and character growth and depth on the way, with the vision of your story's overall trajectory.  

[Harry Potter-source]

Think of Harry Potter.  J.K. Rowling had a character and plot trajectory for Harry and his friends planned for book one, with questions, character arcs yet to be completed, problems yet to be solved, and just overall more to be said waiting after book one. They translated well enough to movies that audiences who were never exposed to the books still waited with baited breath for the next piece of the overall story.  Readers and movie audiences stood in long lines to see what would come next because it was clear there was a next to come to.  From the beginning, Rowling had her ending planned, so each book in the meantime took us one step closer to an exciting climax. Remember, however, not to focus so hard on sequel hooks that each piece of the main story falls apart. Make sure part 2 doesn't feel like a boring pathway to get to part 3. 

So, to recap, to avoid Now-What-itis, don't plan part one as if it's its own thing.  Plan it as a piece of the greater story, one that comes to various mini-conclusions but doesn't wrap up whatever makes your drama and tension work until your series has come to an end. Also, don't skip the build up to mini-conclusions; in other words, keep each installment exciting.  Each mini conclusion should bring you one satisfying step toward an overall climax.