Alright, sticking with my strategy of regularly posting videos, I’ve posted another one today. It’s got nothing to do with my web series and it’s more bizarre than funny. But I finished it so now I am required by law to publish it online and here. Check it out and try not to dislike it but if you do I understand. I may even leave a dislike myself.
We’ve all heard the term, but an alarming number of people, writers even, don’t have the slightest idea of what suspense actually means. Hearing the term alone may enough to bring to mind images of zombies, dolls that talk, or maybe even a person rocking back and forth, biting their nails, and darting their eyes every which way.
In reality, none of those things have anything to do with suspense.
Suspense – information delayed.
In other words, the last example about the “nervous rocker” in the bit above is exactly what you want your reader to be doing when attempt to incorporate this element in your future stories. And in terms of importance to stories, suspense is not too far below conflict, which is really saying something.
The television show “Lost” thrived on suspense. Take that back – lived on it. And that’s also why the ending came as such a disappointment – though the writers were masters at keeping you glued to your screen from questions, they weren’t so good at delivering meaningful answers.
The key to good suspense is to get your readers to want to know what happens next. Zombies running out to tear you apart isn’t suspense, it’s violent and horrific. Approaching a door that may or may not be an entryway to a room-full of bloodthirsty zombies, however, is suspense. In fact, once you get your readers to care about the lives of your characters, you will have them hooked from the moment your characters approach that door until the moment they open it.
That’s why great suspense writers keep always keep us reading on the edge of our seats – for every answer they give us, another question is instantly raised, and another three probably already exist.
If I can get you to take anything away from me it’s this – your ability to raise questions in the minds of your readers will always be more important than your ability to deliver an incredible answer, though the ability to do both successfully will make you a master. But if the meat of your story is boring, than nobody is ever going to make it to that epic ending you put all that time and thought into.
The following is an excerpt from “A New Kingdom.” I’ve highlighted every line that is meant to make you ask a question and keep you desiring an answer.
There was a loud pounding at the front door. James shared a look with his dad, until Mr. O’keefe finally got up and hobbled over. He opened the door to find Greg, dressed in combat boots and army attire.
“This is beyond urgent.”
“Why hello there Gregg, my wallet’s on the counter over there, judging by your entrance that’s what you’ve come for, isn’t it?”
“He’s here… Why?”
Greg barged in, rushed over to James, then grabbed him by the back of his shirt and began shoving him towards the door.
“What tha hell are you doing? What’s going on here, Gregg?!” said Mr. O’keefe.
The military officer kept his firm hold on James and didn’t break stride. He tossed James down the steps of the stoop, turned around and headed back in.
Whatever Gregg had to say was important, and James knew it. He crawled under a cluster of trees limbs and made his way over to the kitchen window. He couldn’t hear anything, but Greg’s frantic pacing and sporadic arm-waving told him all he needed to know – James and his dad were in danger.
James watched as Gregg finally stopped, tossed his arms in the air, then raced through the contents of his backpack. He hurriedly put together the pieces of a telescope, then set it up by the backyard window. After some frantic jolts of aim, he found whatever he was looking for. Gregg waved Mr. O’Keefe over to take a look. Mr. O’Keefe looked amused before he did. Afterward, the expression on his face dropped to a blank, lifeless stare.
Mr. O’Keefe walked over to the counter and swiped his bottle of whiskey into his chest. He took it with him to the kitchen table, sat down, then reached to unscrew it. He stopped short, then placed his hand around its body instead. He leaned back, ran his hands through his hair, then squeezed his eyelids shut. His lips moved so slow even James could read them:
“Everyone is going to die.”
* * *
Hope this helps!
– Thomas M. Watt
Back is hurting, ass is sweaty, tired of hunching, always pressing,
Got to get back on my feet got to get those words to seep –
Through my fingers, from my pen, to the desktop, repeat again.
How many drafts does one book take, how much perfection do readers crave?
Doesn’t matter, I don’t care, I know one day it will get there.
Perseverance? That is shit. Try to spend one year like this.
Learn to get up when you’re damper, know each word from front to backwards.
See description and how it lies, find out what meets readers’ eyes.
For it is not the talk of bees, nor the words that make you pleased.
What readers want is not so much, just to read and feel a rush.
To stimulate the modern mind, without much pictures in faster times,
To do the work of talking grand is indeed one dumb-ass of a plan.
They did not come here just to see the mind of yours and learn you’re deep.
They came instead to just relax, to grab a book and eat a snack.
To keep them going for one night, to let them think your book reads right.
Get them thinking it’s a treat, get them wondering why ‘Jack leaps’.
Raise a question, submit the answer, in the middle fill with banter.
Do this once and you’ll achieve, fulfillment of the writers’ dream.
– Thomas M. Watt
Words fall down to death by red sword, pen cuts out the excess whores.
Red pen ink, to my page, stains the thoughts I pressed in pain.
Cut the shit the darlings too, kill the ego made from ruse.
Red line runs through half a page, cuts out these words I thought were great.
Cut the shit, cut it through, line-to-line an ‘X’ marks lose.
Red ink here and there a lot, lines by circle coffee blots.
Oh what action oh what prose guess what my words it’s time to go,
Leave my pages, I’m sucking thin, the story goes without you in.
I am so sorry, understand, the reader has made his own demands.
He said your lovely quite alright but he fears you’re endless plight.
You see dear words your painted tint, a sort of way to fake a win.
I guess you came to satisfy these thoughts of mine which I thought write.
Looks like I tossed you in a pile, mulled you over for a while.
Fell in love with your sweet mirth, should not have slept with Mrs. Adverb.
Time to say goodbye to you, nice to make you show such truths.
I am so sorry and so sad it’s come to this oh yes it has,
One more chance to let you speak, just one last thought I’m setting free.
The words that float and sound so good, the two I say do sound so rude.
I’m going to have to end with that, a spit of banter yet compact,
Off you go unneeded prose, take your charm you’ve been disposed.
No more fancy, no more show, grab your friend and off you go.
Suck my words into the night, enjoy this rhyme and sleep alright.
Read a thing a time or two, see it’s madness writing for you.
Well my words goodbye you two, bull-shit ends now – I bid ado.
– Thomas M. Watt