A
writing rule I wish I knew when I started out: to create tension in
your scenes, two or more elements of power must be combined. "Power" in
literature means the ability to evoke change in the status quo. If you
play it safe, you'll keep this from happening with your characters or
locations.
Your writing will lack tension to drive forward, to become a page-turner, to irrevocably engage a reader's interest.
The
writing rule about power is an antidote to the unconscious desire to
play it safe--which many writers struggle with. This rule reminds you
to make sure each scene has at least two power elements. Three is even better. You want that itchy friction that keeps a reader wondering what's going to happen.
Power Elements in Fiction and Memoir
"Who's
on first?" You know that saying? Although it applies to baseball, I
use it in my writing too. Who is the power person in this scene, the
one who will most easily get the home run? Once I identify that player,
I can begin to work the elements of tension.
Not
much tension comes when I pair a power player with someone not in
power. There's no mystery as to who will win. The weaker person is
always dominated. Ho hum. But what if the weaker person suddenly
begins to change, get more strength, find more clues, work with more
tools? The outcome is unexpected, the writing gets more interesting.
Make sense?
Power
elements can be two characters (real or fictional) or even something
hostile in a setting, or location, in your story. Setting is nearly a
character in most good writing--it becomes memorable to the reader and
can affect the plot.
Think rivers that flood, tornadoes, fires, a sinister element (jackknife) in an otherwise normal location (rest-area restroom).
Playing It Safe
Why
do we unconsciously or consciously create low-tension scenes? Why do
we instinctively avoid placing power with power? Why do we keep our
characters at victim-level (powerless) for so long or nestle them into
familiar, comfortable locations? Lots of reasons. We're nice people,
and that tendency trickles into our writing. We want to write "funny"
rather than intense. We are overwhelmed with conflict in our real
lives, and the last thing we need is tension in our writing.
But readers long for conflict. It gets our pulses racing and surprises us. It gets writing unstuck. Dennis Lehane, author of Mystic River,
once said in an interview that if he notices his characters are in the
same room for more than a page, he gets them out of there. I wrote that
down. The location that's not generating conflict is not a power
location.
When we feel stuck and see that nothing's moving forward very well, it's likely we're neglecting the power rule.
What
about early drafts? My first draft "islands" (scene fragments) are for
getting to know my players and my locations. I may use less tension
because it gives me freedom to explore without personal anxiety. But
"first draft" means just that--there's more to come.
I
know I'll revise up when tackling the chapters again. Revising up means
raising the stakes. Adding those essential power elements, bringing on
the conflict.
How to Revise Up for More Tension
Let's
say you write a first-draft scene where a character (or real person--if
you're writing memoir) sits drinking coffee in her grandmother's
kitchen. The talk might have undercurrents, subtext, but nothing is
overt. No fights, no arguments, no stomping out of the room. Nothing
yet to raise the stakes.
When revising up, the writer might:
1. Introduce a third person who presents a challenge
2. Raise the narrator to a level of more power--i.e., meeting the challenge
3. Focus the camera on a challenging part of the setting
An
example: One of my students wrote a scene for her memoir. It took
place the day after her father died unexpectedly. The household was in
terrible grief. She and her aunt were having breakfast in the kitchen.
This
writer's first draft was sluggish. She told of deep misery inside each
of them, long silences and sighs. To her, it was full of tension. To a
reader, it was fairly low key. After discouraging feedback that proved
this, the writer came to me. She wanted to raise the stakes, make the
tension more obvious.
I
asked her to look at her descriptions, both of the location and the two
people. Was there a power element, a challenge, that she'd been
ignoring or downplaying?
She
found two. Her aunt's sweater was buttoned wrong--her aunt was always a
snappy dresser. The writer had not included the narrator's reaction to
this. Once highlighted, it showed the deep confusion in the aunt's
heart about her brother's sudden death. Also, a broken glass in the
sink stayed there all morning--no one cleaned it up. When she expanded
these two power elements (both were tense to her, challenging the norm),
the scene's tension exploded.
This Week's Writing Exercise
1. Make a list of all the main players in your current manuscript.
2. Rank them in order of power--power means they cause change in the story, in a big or small way.
3. Do the same with locations--list them according to their ability to enact change.
4.
Pick a scene or chapter that is not tense enough. Ask yourself if
you've placed power with power (a challenging person with another
equally challenging person or a hostile location). Remember that power
can be just something out of place, something jarring, something that
speaks of change and cannot be ignored. If you can, raise the stakes.
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