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Module Guide for Facilitators (ICON Log in Required) 

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Module Guide for Facilitators (ICON Log in Required) 

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Last Updated 28 Nov 2023

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Latest version: 28 Nov 2023

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This contains the full set of resources that are referred to in the Module Guide. These include:

Resource Sheets and Learning Sheets (PDF): These can be printed for use in Reading Circles.

Interactive Resource and Learning Sheets: These are versions of resource and learning sheets that have been created on other interactive platforms (e.g. Padlet, Flip, Parlay, etc.), some of which may be used in place of the printable resources, and that teacher discretion is needed to make the best choice to suit the learner readiness and designed interaction patterns for their Reading Circles. Some of the resources created have been shown as finished products (e.g. with some examples of learner responses). Those resources need to be modified (e.g by removing the sample student responses) when teachers recreate them for use in RC sessions

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How to write historical fiction in 10 steps - The History Quill

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Learn how to write historical fiction with our comprehensive 10-step guide, covering research, planning, historical accuracy, plotting, and more.

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In Ellen Klages's new book, Out of Left Field, 10-year-old Katy Gordon is her neighborhood's best pitcher and she wants to join the local Little League team. But it's 1957, and girls are not eligible, period. Katy soon discovers the forgotten history of female ballplayers and is inspired to share their stories while learning to stand up for her own rights. In this essay, author Ellen Klages explains why the hidden parts of history can be the most fascinating and how voices from the past can still teach us a lot about our lives today.
One of the nicest compliments I've ever gotten came from a fifth grade boy, who said, "I liked your book, even though it was about history." He shook his head. "It wasn't even boring!"

So many kids think that history is just a list of facts and dates to memorize; dry, irrelevant, and unconnected to their lives. But the past isn't some far-off, mythical place. History is a long, winding river of people's lives: what they ate, what they wore, how they talked, what they believed, what was happening around them and to them.

Historical fiction tells the stories of ordinary people living in extraordinary times, and extraordinary people living in ordinary times. For me, it's like a time machine. When I visit the past, I don't want to go as a tourist, just getting the highlights. I want the backstage tour. I want to look around corners and peer into windows and get to know the people of the neighborhood. I want to be there as events unfold, seeing them through the eyes of a character for whom this time is not "history" - it's just everyday life.

In skilled hands, the factual history makes the character's story feel real, and being immersed in that story makes history come alive for the reader, sometimes in surprising ways. Human emotions are timeless; relationships, social status, age- and gender-appropriate roles and issues are fluid and ever-changing.

That's what fascinates me most: the parts of history that have been swept aside, forgotten, or considered unimportant. The stories of women, people of color, those whose lives were lived in the shadows, hidden or secret. What's more intriguing than a long-lost secret? It's buried treasure that makes my curiosity tingle, that makes me want to find out more, keep digging.

Why does it matter? Apart from telling a ripping good story, I think these voices from the past can teach us a lot about our own times, our own lives.

Good historical fiction opens a dialogue between the past and the present. The attitudes of the past, from the more enlightened perspective of a present-day reader, may seem wrong-headed, even ugly; many social norms were not questioned, not then. There are no warning labels on history. People smoked and didn't know it was bad for them. Women and minorities were treated like second-class citizens and denied fundamental rights. Unfortunately, that same racism, sexism, abuse of power are all part of today's headlines.

I think it's important for kids to be aware that the past was often less than savory, that they learn about what actually happened, not what some would like to pretend it was like. And it's a fabulous opportunity for parents, grandparents, and educators to be open about their own experiences, to discuss how things have changed in the last 30 or 40 or 50 years - and how they haven't.

An inquisitive kid may have more questions than adults have answers, but that can be a very good thing. When kids want to find out more, following their own curiosity, they develop amazing research skills that will be useful for the rest of their lives. And the more questions readers ask about the past, the more they're prepared to be citizens of the future - a future they will create, where they can make a difference, and maybe change "the way things have always been."

I said that good historical fiction is like a time machine. And there is one, unbreakable law of time-travel: You cannot change the past. But when you close the cover of a book like Out of Left Field, you may discover that the past has changed you.

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Why Historical Fiction Is Important for 21st-Century Kids | Brightly

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In skilled hands, the factual history makes the character's story feel real, and being immersed in that story makes history come alive for the reader, sometimes in surprising ways. Human emotions are timeless; relationships, social status, age- and gender-appropriate roles and issues are fluid and ever-changing.

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Number the Star SLS Course (SLS login required)

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Number the Star SLS Course (SLS login required)

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This course includes the activities for Sessions 1-8.

This package is meant for use by facilitators of Reading Circles (RC) based on Lois Lowry's novel, Number the Stars.  RCs provide a rich reading experience for advanced readers who read widely and deeply.

Each RC SLS package incorporates protocols, tools, tasks and multi-modal resources used in the module, to help facilitators customise their RC to support Blended Learning and inquiry through Self-Directed Learning (SDL). Note that not all activities from Sessions 1 - 8 are represented in this course.

This SLS package should be used in tandem with the companion Number the Stars Resource Guide for Facilitators and Number the Stars Module Learning & Resources Booklet.

Note that some ICT tools such as Flip may require 2 Factor Authentication for access. Do factor in time for prior set-up.

Teacher-facilitators should make a copy and modify according to their participants' level of readiness and profile.

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Dear Teacher-Facilitators,

This serves as a repository to all the resources available for use for this specific Reading Circles: The Wonderful World of Books Module.  Updates may be made to this resource so we advise checking this site for updates yearly.

Use of ICT tools in RC
Please note that all resources created using ICT tools (e.g. Padlet, Mentimeter, Flip, Parlay, etc.) are resources that are view-only. Teacher-facilitators should recreate them for their own use.
If you wish to use Padlet, we recommend obtaining a Padlet subscription, as each module typically uses more than the 3 Padlets currently allowed in a free Padlet account.
Alternatively, with a free account, inactive Padlets can be archived after use to allow more to be created.

Use of Licensed Materials (Intellectual Property Rights)
Some of the licensed materials curated as part of the module resources have specific terms and conditions regarding its use (e.g. reproduction, distribution and hosting). These would typically be embedded in the SLS course. As such, please refrain from usage that violates the terms of use.

Should you have any queries, please contact us via email.

Thank you.

Reading Circles Team
English Language Department
Gifted Education Branch
MOE, Singapore

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Resource Sheets and Learning Sheets (PDF)

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Resource Sheets and Learning Sheets (PDF)

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This contains the full set of resources that are referred to in the Module Guide. These resources can be printed for use in Reading Circles.

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RC Learning Sheets - Number the Stars (Printables)_as of 2022

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Reading Circles Toolkit & Primer (ICON account required)

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Reading Circles Toolkit & Primer (ICON account required)

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Last updated 8 Mar 2021

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Get access to files anywhere through secure cloud storage and file backup for your photos, videos, files and more with Google Drive.

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My Reading Circles Journal - Number the Stars

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My Reading Circles Journal - Number the Stars

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This contains the journalling prompts for 'Food for Thought' and the Response Tasks.

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From Holocaust Encyclopaedia, United States Holocaust Museum website.

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Germany occupied Denmark in 1940. When the Germans decided to deport Jews from Denmark in August 1943, Danes spontaneously organized a rescue operation and helped Jews reach the coast; fishermen then ferried them to neutral Sweden. The rescue operation expanded to include participation by the Danish resistance, the police, and the government.

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LS2.3 Annemarie's Growth and Development

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LS2.3 Annemarie's Growth and Development

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Activity 3.3 Comparing 'The Yellow Star' and 'Number the Stars'

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Activity 3.3 Comparing 'The Yellow Star' and 'Number the Stars'

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RS(R)4.3 Profiles of Subjects from World War II

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RS(R)4.3 Profiles of Subjects from World War II

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LS5A.1 What is real and what is made up?

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LS5A.1 What is real and what is made up?

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Activity 6B.2 What do fairytales mean to Annemarie?

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Activity 6B.2 What do fairytales mean to Annemarie?

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Activity 6A.1 Compare and Contrast Historical Fiction with other text types

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Activity 6A.1 Compare and Contrast Historical Fiction with other text types

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A resource guide by National Museum of Singapore

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Get access to files anywhere through secure cloud storage and file backup for your photos, videos, files and more with Google Drive.

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writer in my critique group had an idea for a historical fiction novel, but she just couldn't get started. "I've been researching for two years," she said. "I have no idea where to start my story." Her characters were stuck inside her notebooks full of research, although they were fighting to get out and tell their stories. If you're an historical fiction writer, you might have had this same problem. Maybe you've found modern day ideas and dialogue sneaking into your text. You might be worried about the one reader who is waiting to find something in your book that's not quite authentic and tell the world. As an historical fiction writer, you must face these challenges when creating stories for your readers.

My middle-grade, historical fiction novel titled, Finding My Place, is under contract with White Mane Kids, but the road to publication was not easy. After months of research and years of rewrites, critique group meetings, and feedback from agents and editors, I finally got an acceptance. Looking back on this experience and talking with other historical fiction writers, I realized it is easy to fall into five historical fiction pitfalls. Until you can learn to avoid these, your story will suffer, and the road to publication may be long and difficult.

Pitfall #1: Poor research

Historical fiction is just that-fiction. But to make your story believable, you have to bring the time period to life. Historical fiction is similar to science fiction and fantasy because you have to create a world for your readers. With historical fiction, your setting was once real. Yet, your readers did not live during colonial times or the Renaissance, so it is just as unreal to them as a science fiction book set on Mars. You have to know what life was like during your time period to make the story believable for your readers.

Carolyn Yoder, editor of Calkins Creek Books and senior editor of history for Highlights for Children magazine, believes in thorough research, using primary sources, historical societies, and experts. She has been known to have her authors research the exact weather on a specific date in history to make a story more authentic. When you submit a manuscript to her, she wants to see your bibliography, which is just as important as your idea and your writing. She also recommends historical fiction writers contact an expert in your time period and ask them to fact check your manuscript.

"An author of historical fiction owes it to his or her readers to get the story right-that means solid research and solid writing. Historical fiction is all about balance," she said.

Primary sources are some of the best research materials you can use. I found two diaries written during the Siege of Vicksburg, where my novel is set, and they helped me more than any of the history books. A library's vertical files can also have useful information. At Vicksburg's public library, I was lucky enough to find a copy of the newspaper from the 1860s.

Pitfall #2: Too much history in the text

Historical fiction writers often conduct years and years of research before they write a single word. This can lead to a common historical fiction problem-boring the reader with all the history you can fit into the text. When you're finished researching and in your writing phase, repeat this over and over to yourself to avoid this pitfall: "My story is the most important. My characters are more important than all my research. I am not writing a history book."

It doesn't matter if you found the most interesting recipe for an unusual kind of cobbler we have all forgotten about or juicy facts about a certain president. Don't include this history if it doesn't pertain to your story and slows down the action.

When writing Finding My Place, this was the pitfall I had to constantly avoid because I had discovered so much wonderful and interesting information when researching the Siege of Vicksburg. I knew how to dig caves, what weapons were used, how to make tea without tea leaves, and popular children's games. But my story didn't need a how-to about digging a cave or a manual on how to play jacks. So after several rewrites, I left this information out and focused on my story.

Pitfall #3: Dialogue or voice sound phony

Dialogue sounding phony is a common problem for historical fiction novelists because they imagine that in the past, people only spoke formally-unlike the slang we use today. But this isn't true. Every time period has had different slang. Just think of how the language has changed in the short time you've been alive.

I bet even Shakespeare spoke in broken sentences or answered questions with a simple yes or no. The speech patterns of your characters will be different than today's characters, but they will still talk informally to their lover or best friend. If you have trouble with dialogue, watch a few movies set in your time period and pay attention to how the characters speak to one another.

Two problems I often see when editing manuscripts are the-name-dilemma and the-well-syndrome. If you're having a conversation with one of your friends, how often do you actually use the word "well" or her name during the conversation? Not much. But have you ever read a manuscript where one character uses another character's name in almost every line of dialogue? Or a character always says, "Well, I'm not sure." Or "Well, what do you think?" Try to avoid these dialogue traps as much as possible.

Another problem historical fiction writers have is trying to spell, or write out, the dialects or accents of their characters. Mark Twain was a master at making the voices of his characters sound authentic, but this is difficult to do. To avoid this pitfall, try flavoring your characters' voices with words from your time period without writing in full dialect. The best way to figure out what vocabulary people used in the past is to read primary sources.

I once heard this piece of advice at a workshop. If your character is from England, you can write his English accent without spelling out his accent. Instead of your English character saying, "I have to call my attorney immediately." He would say, "I must ring my solicitor." In the first example, you hear an American accent. In the second, you hear the English accent-just by using key vocabulary.

Pitfall #4: Setting isn't specific enough to show where the story takes place

Marcia Preston wrote Trudy's Promise, which is set mostly in 1963 East and West Berlin, shortly after the Berlin Wall was built. She had to create this world for her readers because this is a foreign setting to most of them.

"I think the key to selecting telling details lies in the research you do in advance. That's where you sink into the time period and location, absorb the mood and Zeitgeist," Preston said. "Choose sights, sounds, and smells that reflect that ambiance. I also used limited German phrases to give authenticity to the characters' nationality."

Most readers love historical fiction because they like to learn about a certain time period or place while also enjoying a story. If you're writing about Chicago in the early 1900s, then the details of your story should show your reader this setting. Figure out what details in your research make Chicago unique from other cities during the early 1900s, and include those in your story. If your story takes place in another country, then like Preston, you may want to include some foreign phrases or words to give your story an authentic feel. Just make sure to contact a native speaker if you're not fluent in a language. Online dictionaries will often mislead you and give you formal translations, which might not fit with your character's personality.

Your setting is unique, and one of the best parts about writing historical fiction is taking your readers on a trip back in time to this setting. So, add special details for your readers' journey-just remember pitfall #2 and focus on your story while you set the stage.

Pitfall #5: Today's world creeps into your story

Critique groups and expert readers can help you avoid this pitfall. While I was writing Finding My Place, a couple of my fellow critiquers, who had read a lot of books about the Civil War, questioned my characters' word choice or hobbies. Sure enough, I would look up a certain game or word and discover that it definitely wasn't used in Mississippi in 1863.

Carmela Martino, author of , had similar experiences when writing her current historical fiction novel set in 18th century Italy. At a recent critique group meeting, several members asked about her character's use of the word "hey" in the dialogue: "Hey, that's not fair." She used the Online Etymology Dictionary to find out when the word "hey" was first used.

"I have to say that the Online Etymology Dictionary is one of my favorite resources-it's helped me countless times," Martino said. "For example, in another scene, my characters are eating what we in America today would call sherbet or sorbet. However, when I looked up "sherbet" in the Etymology Dictionary, I learned the word originally meant a drink. And the first recorded use of "sorbet" in the English language to refer to a frozen dessert wasn't until 1864."

These are the types of details that some readers notice immediately when they're reading your story. You don't want a reader pulled out of your story world because a character uses a word that wasn't around until 100 years later.

Look at all the details of your story from how your characters dress, to what they eat, to how they spend their free time. Make sure you research what was popular during your time period; and if you don't know, do more research or ask an expert.

The Everyday Life series is a great set of books for writers. Members of my critique group use these books to answer questions on their characters' meals, clothing, occupations, and hobbies. There's an Everyday Life book for the Civil War, the Wild West, Colonial America, and the 1800s in the United States. Resources such as these can provide details to bring your story to life. When you're reading primary sources or interviewing experts, ask about everyday life details and include these throughout your story. Don't just research big events-you'll need both-small details and large events to make your story real to your readers.

When you avoid the five historical fiction pitfalls, you'll have a successful, engaging novel waiting for readers to enjoy in no time!

Margo L. Dill is a freelance writer, editor, speaker, and teacher, living in St. Louis, Missouri. Her work has appeared in publications such as Grit, Pockets, True Love, Fun for Kidz, Missouri Life, ByLine Magazine, and The Chicago Tribune. She is a columnist, instructor, and contributing editor for WOW! Women On Writing. She is the memoir and children's/YA novel editor at High Hill Press and the assistant editor for the Sunday Books page in The News-Gazette. Her first book, Finding My Place, a middle-grade historical novel, was published by White Mane Kids. Her children's picture book, Maggie Mae, Detective Extraordinaire: The Case of the Missing Cookies, was published by Guardian Angel Publishing. Caught Between Two Curses, her young adult novel, was published by Rocking Horse Publishing. High Hill Press will publish her children's picture book, Lucy and the Red Ribbon Week Adventure. She blogs on Tuesdays at The Lit Ladies, and is a regular blogger at . She owns her own copyediting business, Editor 911, and is an instructor for the WOW! Women On Writing Classroom. She loves speaking to writing groups, teachers, and young writers and has presented several workshops to all ages. When she's not writing or speaking, she loves spending time with her husband, stepson, daughter, and dog-Chester, a boxer. You can find out more about Margo by visiting her website: https://www.margodill.com.

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5 Historical Fiction Pitfalls and How To Avoid Them by Margo L. Dill

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A writer in my critique group had an idea for a historical fiction novel, but she just couldn't get started. Her characters were stuck inside her notebooks full of research, although they were fighting to get out and tell their stories. If you're an historical fiction writer, you might have had this same problem.

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This neatly summarises most of the tensions and tips of writing historical fiction. However, illustrations and explanation are for the adult writer.

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Today's post is by Andrew Noakes (@andrew_noakes), executive editor of The History Quill.

Let's face it: historical fiction can be a daunting genre to write in. Endlessly fascinating and rewarding, yes. But still daunting.

If you're diving into this genre for the first time and feeling a little overwhelmed, or if you're already a historical fiction writer and looking for some guidance to help restore your sanity, then help is on the way. I've put together six concrete tips for historical fiction writers-the dos and don'ts of writing historical fiction.

1. Establish your own set of rules for when to bend history for the sake of the story-and stick to them.

There are as many opinions on how accurate historical fiction should be as there are historical fiction authors, and they vary widely between those who consider accuracy an optional bonus and those who can be, well, a little bit pedantic. Historical fiction writers tend to get anxious about the possibility of censure if they bend the historical record a little, which is both understandable and healthy, but ultimately you have to tell a good story, and you can't please everyone.

Rather than worrying about never, ever deviating from history, I advise establishing your own set of rules for when to bend history or not. That way, you'll be able to make fair and consistent decisions and achieve the kind of balance most readers are looking for. Here are some tips that might help:

There is a difference between altering verifiable facts and filling in the gaps. History is full of mysteries, unanswered questions, and gaps in the record. If what really happened can't be verified, you have much more freedom to play around with history.

History is open to interpretation. As long as you can back up your interpretation through your research, it's fine to contradict conventional wisdom.

Plausibility matters. If you want to bend the historical record, your changes should be plausible. For example, if you want a historical figure to arrive somewhere a few days earlier than they really did, they shouldn't have been, say, imprisoned or incapacitated at the time.

If a historical figure isn't well known and not a lot has been written about them, you have more room for maneuver than you do if their life has been exhaustively documented. But, if you're going to make something up, make sure it's consistent with what you otherwise know about the character, including how they behaved, their interests, and what their values were.

If you're looking for more tips on historical accuracy, do check out The History Quill's free, official guide to accuracy and authenticity in historical fiction.

2. Do plenty of research-but know what to include and what not to include in your novel.

Research is one of the very first steps on your journey to becoming a historical fiction author. Here's a safety warning: you're about to dive down a whole load of research rabbit holes. From ancient cutlery to medieval agricultural techniques, there is a lot of stuff historical fiction writers need to know about. Secondary sources are your starting point, but primary sources, particularly letters, newspaper reports, and diaries are also vital.

Don't be afraid to push the boat out and visit some archives, and, for that matter, do go and visit historical sites relevant to your story if you can. If you want to get really immersed, you can read the fiction of your period, cook the food, or even try and find authentic recreations (or possibly recordings, depending on the era) of the music.

Here's the thing, though: you're going to do all of this research, and then you need to discard 95 percent of it. Don't actually delete your notes, obviously. What I mean is, only a very small fraction of your research should actually make it into your book. The sum total of your research will make the world you create feel real and authentic, and you need to deploy little details carefully and selectively to immerse the reader, but don't be tempted to show off and dump everything you've learned onto the page. Otherwise you'll end up with a dry tome of a history book, not an engaging historical novel.

3. Include characters who break the conventions and norms of their period-but don't forget to include context.

History is replete with exceptions-people who ignored or rejected social conventions, overcame entrenched political and economic barriers, or challenged the prevailing wisdom of their time. One could argue it would be inaccurate not to include people like this in your historical novel. If every single one of your characters perfectly encapsulates the prevailing culture of their time, then you lose the change, difference, and non-conformity that have always been just as much a part of history.

Most of the trouble with depicting non-conformist characters comes when their non-conformity is represented as normal rather than exceptional. To persuade the reader that your anomalies are authentic, you must provide context. That means showing the obstacles, conflict, and ostracization your characters face. By doing this, you're implicitly recognizing that they are unusual for their time, while persuading the reader they are nonetheless as real as any other part of the story.

4. Don't write like you're in the 14th century.

One of the ironies of writing historical fiction is that, in many cases, your dialogue should actually not be historically accurate. If you're wondering why I would say such a profane thing, this is the reason:

Aleyn spak first, "Al hayl, Symond, y-fayth;
How fares thy faire doghter and thy wyf?"
"Aleyn! welcome," quod Symond, "by my lyf,
And John also, how now, what do ye heer?"

These lines are from The Canterbury Tales by Chaucer, written in the late 14 th century, and I often use them to remind people just how different the language was back then. If you have your characters speaking to each other like this, most readers will put your book down in five seconds flat.

At the same time, historical fiction readers often really hate it when modern-day language creeps into historical fiction, which leaves us caught between a rock and a hard place.

The answer to this conundrum lies in a literary sleight of hand. We must create the impression of accuracy while ensuring the language remains readable and enjoyable. To do this, writers have to avoid modern colloquialisms and keep most of the language neutral, using words that, in some form or another, feel equally at home in history as they do in the modern day. Then you must add some more archaic words and constructions into the mix-not so much as to overwhelm the reader, but just enough that the story feels of a different time. The type of archaic language you select is important here-they have to be words and phrases that are still recognizable, even if they are no longer commonly used. This is an intricate task, but it can also be a fun and rewarding one once you get into the rhythm.

Historical language obviously becomes less alien the closer you get to the modern day, but even 19 th century language was sufficiently different that it must be tempered for a modern reader to some degree.

5. Integrate the history seamlessly into the story.

In A Tale of Two Cities, Charles Dickens portrays a French aristocrat in his carriage running over a child on the street, before tossing a coin to the devastated father and driving off. The scene perfectly encapsulates the sentiments and forces that generated the French Revolution.

When it comes to striking a balance between history and story, this scene shows us the way. The cold indifference of the aristocratic class, the inequality not only in wealth but in the application of justice, and the debasement of the common person's humanity all live and breathe in these lines. And yet the scene does not impassively summarise the causes of the French Revolution. Instead, the history is integrated into the story, and Dickens dishes out a history lesson without us even realizing it.

Dedicating large chunks of your story to outlining historical context through exposition or focusing on historical details purely for their own sake will quickly test your reader's patience. Instead, follow Dickens' lead and think about how you can illustrate history rather than exhaustively describing it, and try and integrate the smaller details organically. That means not sending your character off to a banquet purely so you can show off all the historical cuisine you researched or into an armory just so you can list all the weapons. Details like this have to fit naturally around the plot, not the other way around.

6. Don't insist on accuracy if it will cause disbelief (but here's a workaround if you really must).

A paradox of writing historical fiction is that sometimes accuracy must be sacrificed for the sake of authenticity. When you come across something that really happened in history but is just too ludicrous for the modern day reader to believe, often it's better to leave it out. Like it or not, the impression of accuracy matters more than actual accuracy if you want to tell a story that will be well received.

If there's some facet of history that you simply must include in your story but you're concerned the reader won't believe you, there is one way to gently disarm them: introduce their scepticism into the story. Depict at least one character finding it just as unbelievable as you think the reader might, and then depict another character putting them right. This is a subliminal nudge to the reader acknowledging their scepticism and reassuring them that, yes, this really was a thing. In a pinch, this can work.

So, those are my dos and don'ts of writing historical fiction. If you're thinking about giving the genre a try or you've already started and feel like you're out of your depth, I hope this guidance will help you move forward with confidence. No one with any sense ever said writing is easy, and historical fiction can be a trickier genre to master than some, but it's worth every bit of perseverance.

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6 Principles for Writing Historical Fiction | Jane Friedman

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Whether grappling with believable world-building or adherence to historical accuracy, these six tips will help you navigate this daunting genre.

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Author Tips on Writing Historical Fiction | A Writer of History

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Today I've selected authors' tips on writing historical fiction from around the web. From How to Write Historical Fiction: 7 Tips on Accuracy and Authenticity by Susanna Calkins author of A Murder at Rosamund's Gate Let the characters engage with the historical details - a variation on show don't tell Allow your characters to question and explore [...]

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[Basic] Hamburger Model (Primary) for Persuasive Writing 

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[Basic] Hamburger Model (Primary) for Persuasive Writing 

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From "Teaching Models" page by Centre for Gifted Education, College of William and Mary

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(Advanced) Hamburger Model (Regular] for Persuasive Writing

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(Advanced) Hamburger Model (Regular] for Persuasive Writing

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From "Teaching Models" page by Centre for Gifted Education, College of William and Mary

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Please go through to vet material and assign according to participant readiness.

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How the war shaped me: Remembering the fall of Singapore, 80 years on

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On relatively unknown heroes and their choices

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Forgotten S’porean Soldiers Who Fought World War 2 Abroad | Forgotten Heroes | Full Documentary

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obody ever said writing historical fiction was easy. Not only do you have to create vibrant characters, captivating plotlines, and a voice that leaps off the page, but you also have to do hours upon hours (even years!) of research, convince readers that you know as much or more than they do about their favorite time periods, and get every last setting detail exactly right. Why would anyone undertake such a huge task like writing a historical fiction novel, when writing itself is already difficult?

Five ladies, who have all succeeded in the historical fiction genre from middle grade to adult, attempt to shed some light on what it's like to write these novels, how much research it takes, what to do with all the facts and figures when telling a story, and how to get a historical fiction book noticed among the vampires, werewolves, and spy thrillers. They also share some of their favorite writers and tips for starting out in this difficult genre.

"The true art of writing good historical fiction is the ability to take the facts, sift through them, and turn them into a compelling story."

Research

When beginning any novel, writers probably have to do some research on subjects like a character's profession, a favorite recipe, or even proper police procedures. But when you're writing a novel that's set in Imperial Russia, such as author Adrienne Sharp did in The True Memoirs of Little K, you have to research for years.

"I was still researching even when my novel was in galleys, so I never really stopped," Adrienne says. "I was still writing in new details when they pried the galleys from my hands."

She had quite a list of topics to research for her book, from the study of nineteenth- and twentieth-century Russian ballet to the three-hundred-year Romanov reign, as well as the court life of St. Petersburg, the Russian revolution, and everything there was to know about her two main characters, Mathilde Kschessinska and Nicholas II.

All the research paid off though, as The True Memoirs of Little K was a finalist for the California Book Award, one of Oprah's Book Club's Ten Fantastic Books for Fall 2010, and a Historical Novel Review's Editors' Choice.

Darci Hannah, another successful historical fiction author who wrote The Exile of Sara Stevenson and The Angel of Blythe Hall, sets her stories in Scotland in the years 1814 and 1492, respectively. She agrees with Adrienne that it's hard to stop researching while writing. But she also offers this advice: "The trick is to understand what kind of story you're going to tell, understand your target audience, and most importantly, to know just how much history to include without bogging down the flow of the narrative."

She makes it sound easy, but those are issues that many historical fiction writers struggle with-whether beginners or pros. It's hard to part with the research, but historical fiction writers have to remember the important piece of the puzzle is actually the story. The research should make the story richer, and most of the facts and figures are just for the writer's benefit-similar to character profiles created before writing a novel.

Beverly Patt, author of the middle-grade novel Best Friends Forever: A World War II Scrapbook, believes sometimes the huge amount of research can actually hinder the story. "It's after I have all this great information, but I can't conceptualize how I will integrate all of it into a seamless, interesting story . . . If you are writing for the general public, you have to assume they know very little and would have to include more backstory than if you are writing a more sophisticated piece for history buffs. Again, you must remember to balance history and plot/story to keep your reader informed enough to follow what's going on, but not bogged down in background."

She also mentions that in her WWII book, she included details about Japanese internment camps in the text because she assumed her readers would know very little about them. Then she included an author's note in the back of the book to inform readers about details leading up to WWII that didn't fit in the text, but that would be important to know for her story.

Darci agrees. "The true art of writing good historical fiction is the ability to take the facts, sift through them, and turn them into a compelling story." She reminds writers that they are the ones with the power-to decide which facts to include and which ones to leave out. But she also offers this sound advice, "However, don't ever change important historical facts to fit neatly into your story or leave out the really big, history-making events. Readers of historical fiction are sharp cookies, and they know their stuff."

Then there's author Karen Kondazian, who wrote , which is the fictional story of true life Wild West character, Charley Parkhurst. Parkhurst pretended to be male to keep a job as a stagecoach driver and seek revenge on the man who killed her family. Karen had a slightly different approach to writing her historical fiction novel-researching after she wrote.

This process might work for authors who get bogged down in all the facts and figures before beginning to write their novel. Karen did know the story and some background of Charley through a magazine article she had read many years before.

"In the first draft, I simply wrote the story. I wanted the characters to find their own life and flow without the disruption of research," Karen says. "In the next twenty-six drafts, I continuously researched everything from the perfumes that women wore, the medications people took . . . the exact time it took a stagecoach to get from one town to another. And every other little detail . . . Even to what a woman would do when she had her period."

The good news for historical fiction writers is that there are many sources to use for research today. Most writers begin with the Internet and then move on to books for more research, trying to use primary resources when possible. Traveling to the location where the story takes place can also work during this stage.

Middle-grade author Clara Gillow Clark, who wrote Hill Hawk Hattie, thinks the best research isn't on the Internet or in books. "My favorite places to search are old newspapers on microfilm, museums, and historical societies that have wonderful treasures like diaries, maps, photographs," Clara says. "Seeing and touching these materials bring the past world much closer emotionally, I think. At least it does for me."

If the time period you're writing in is not that long ago, you may be able to interview people who lived during your story events. Bev discovered this when researching World War II and internment camps. "The very best [research], however, was the first person interviews I did with individuals who had lived in the Japanese internment camps," Bev says. "They cleared up so many questions I had-questions that no book or website could answer."

"When I wrote the line 'I have always admired an opportunist, being one myself,' I knew I had her."

Finding the Storytelling Voice

Once writers have enough research to start, then the storytelling takes place. So, how do they write believable characters and find their voice?

For Adrienne, Darci, and Bev, they found their character's voice during the research and while reading about their subject matter.

Adrienne remembers having difficulty at first with her character's voice. "Not letting the history swamp your characters. It wasn't until I found Mathilde's voice-impertinent and self-knowing-and her goal-to become a Romanov and to have her son take his rightful place at court-that my novel came alive. When I wrote the line 'I have always admired an opportunist, being one myself,' I knew I had her."

"What worried me more was dialogue," she adds. "But having Mathilde tell the story of her life from her deathbed freed me from having to use much dialogue, which, by the way, I did not enclose in quotation marks, which for some reason freed me even more."

Bev mentions that finding a historical fiction character's voice is more difficult for her than a contemporary character because she hears those voices all around her every day. But she reads newspapers and other fiction from the time period her story is set in to help her develop her characters' voices. She doesn't want them to sound stilted.

Clara had one of those moments that as authors we can all hope for-the voice of Hattie just came to her! "Her voice came to me one day when I was out walking, and she just stuck around. She was this powerful voice inside that needed me to get her story down on paper."

Karen's experience even differed from this. "It took many drafts to find Charley's voice. At first, it was my personal voice; but as I grew to find the wounded child that lived inside her and the survivor that she became, the voice started to take on a life of its own."

"I had to change where a character was going because I found out about a devastating plague that had hit Sacramento . . ."

Challenges

All writing comes with challenges. But the historical fiction genre seems to have some that are unique to it. Bev states, "Sometimes I could kick myself for starting a historical fiction piece because I end up feeling hemmed in by the facts or the dates or the timeline!"

Karen agrees, especially since she wrote the first draft and then researched. She often had to change storylines the more research she did. "In one instance, I had to change where a character was going because I found out about a devastating plague that had hit Sacramento at that time and drove everyone out of town, killing thousands of people."

As most historical fiction authors will tell you, there are always readers that seem to know everything about a given time period and are more than happy to write to authors and point out the mistakes they made. Authors should try to keep as close to the historical facts in their fiction story as possible. For example, if you're writing a novel set during the early days of the United States, you don't want to change the first president from George Washington to some unknown person-everyone knows this fact, and your book becomes unreliable. You can always add a character to his life or make up dialogue for Mr. Washington, but don't change important known facts.

Adrienne presents a perfect example from her novel, when explaining her favorite part of writing historical fiction: "Weaving together what actually happened historically with the actions of my own characters. In one of my favorite scenes, . . . I used Count Beckendorff's account of the imperial family's 1917 departure from Tsarskoye Selo to Siberia, where they would eventually be murdered, and planted Kschessinska and her son into the scene. Every detail of that scene is historically accurate-with a twist."

Darci and Clara hate when those details go missing right when they need to check on them and include them in the story. "Also, it can be very troublesome when you're looking for a specific, obscure little detail, and you can't seem to find it. I hate it when that happens!" Darci says.

Karen also mentions the dreaded question that many historical fiction writers have asked themselves-often at the most inopportune time, such as in the middle of an adventure scene, "What would my character say here, and was that word even invented before my time period occurred?"

She uses an example of the word okay. "It was incredibly time consuming to have to look up so many words in the dictionary to find out if they even used that word yet. 'Okay' is a good example. Apparently it was an amalgamation of a word that came from the American Indian and only started being used in the early 1840s."

"It's been my experience that just the words 'historical fiction' do not have the 'wow' factor for kids . . ."

And then there comes the marketing challenges. Most people you talk to like historical fiction; many have even read popular novels such as the Laura Ingalls Wilder books or Gone With the Wind. But let's face it. Most historical fiction writers aren't becoming multi-millionaires like Stephenie Meyer, Stephen King, and J. K. Rowling.

Bev understands the lack of appeal of her genre to some readers. "It's been my experience that just the words 'historical fiction' do not have the 'wow' factor for kids that other genres like fantasy or humor or romance might . . . So, if I'm targeting kids, I focus on the relationships of my characters, their problems, etc." She goes on to explain that she talks about how the two main characters in Best Friends Forever are separated because of World War II and how one is ostracized because she is Japanese and shipped off to an internment camp. "Well, that catches their attention."

She adds, however, that teachers and librarians love historical fiction, so she tries to show how her books fit in with the curriculum.

Clara takes advantage of the local angle, which is something many authors can do. She's lucky because she lives in the area where she set her books, so schools, libraries, and historical societies will ask her to speak-she can do these engagements without much travel. But even if you don't live where your books are set, you could still take a trip to that area, fit in as many speaking engagements and opportunities to sell your book as possible, and then write off the trip on your taxes.

Darci writes for the adult audience, which presents its own set of challenges. She explains, "The quick answer is that it largely depends on what kind of historical fiction you're writing. Most historical fiction gets shelved in literary fiction. That's fine, because readers of the genre know where to look. However, there's always room to expand your market, especially if you're writing about a specific country, a popular time period, a famous person, or a defined subject."

She uses Adrienne's book as an example and states that its subject matter appeals to book clubs and women readers. But she also says that ballet fans or people interested in Russian history like Little K. For her own books, Darci says that they don't fit neatly into any one genre. They've been described as "romantic suspense" and "historical adventure."

"This can be a little difficult for me because my target audience is hard to pin down," she says. "Therefore, I concentrate on the key selling points: historical fiction, Scottish history, romance, adventure, and those who like a touch of the paranormal. Finding your target readership, then enticing them to choose your novel, is often the trickiest part of the business."

Karen has a different take on it. For those authors who aren't into marketing, she gives you an out. "Save up your money, and hire a great marketing person who knows what they're doing."

"Yes, choose a character, a story, and a setting, but be sure you have a strong emotional connection."

Breaking in

If you're still reading this article, then you love historical fiction, you love your current project, or you are interested in giving this genre a try. Our expert authors have a few words of advice for those starting out.

Tips and Words of Inspiration

From Karen: "Take an acting class. It helps with character development, backstory, using your imagination, accessing your emotions, and learning to walk a tightrope with no net."

From Bev: "Plot tends to be my bugaboo; and when I was in a recent funk over it, I surfed the Internet and found 'The Plot Whisperer' on You Tube. She's got some great, five-minute lessons on not only plot but setting, voice, and character as well."

From Clara: "This year, I show up at the page first thing in the morning and work for about an hour, if I can, before I get on with the demands of the day. Maybe this book will be published, maybe not; but what I really care about is writing. It's all about the journey."

From Darci: "As a novelist, even with a big publishing house behind me, I'm still self-employed; and while my books may be as special to me as my own children are, to the publishing world at large, they're just another product to sell. Sometimes, it's hard to remember that."

From Adrienne: "Patience and diligence [are important tools for research]. One book's bibliography leads to a series of new books on the topic . . . The Internet has made research immeasurably easier."

Clara believes it is all about emotion. "Write what you care about emotionally. Yes, choose a character, a story, and a setting, but be sure you have a strong emotional connection."

Bev thinks it is all about the story. She says that writers need to focus on the main character and his or her struggle, which must be compelling on its own, aside from the interesting facts and figures of the time period. She also advises that once you have an idea, look at what has already been published for the age group you are interested in writing for. You don't want to write the exact book that has already been published. No one will buy it.

Darci simplifies it even further. "First, write a really, really great book." She also says, "Be patient." Publishing moves at a snail's pace, so that's why writers have to just go on and write the next book.

So Why?

Why do these ladies write in this genre? What makes them love it so?

"Learning so much about another world, another place, another time, so far from anything I have ever experienced," Karen shares. "My character Charley, drove her stagecoach during the adolescence of America . . . when everyone in the world was finding their way to California to seek their fortune. The Civil War was looming its head, the West had become the romantic dream of every man and boy in America. It was thought to be the place of salvation . . . instead it destroyed, if not the body, certainly the soul, of almost all who found their way there."

Like many writers, Adrienne also became captivated with her subject, which led her to write the novel. She had written two other books set in the ballet world, and she had come across stories about the people she decided to write about in The True Memoirs of Little K. She wasn't scared off by the experience of writing a historical fiction novel either, as she is writing another one set in 1939 Los Angeles.

Darci and Clara both loved historical fiction as children, and this continued as adults. It was a natural progression, then, for these ladies to stick with this genre.

"My sister and I read all the 'orange' biographies in the town library, so it was natural that I would be interested in learning my own history," Clara says. "I wanted to know why it was such a big deal for my mother to attend high school in the 1920s. The answer is written in my first novel, Annie's Choice."

Bev thought she hated history, and then she realized she loves finding little-known facts and investigating them further. Her excitement carries over to her writing, and she has the desire to share all of this enthusiasm with young readers.

So, do you have an idea? Have you come across a time period that is screaming to be turned into a historical fiction book? Then get busy with your research, but remember what's important-the story and writing the best book you possibly can. Before you know it, you'll see your historical fiction work for sale, and you'll be busy on your next one, just like our five gracious experts.

***

Margo L. Dill lives a freelance writer, editor, speaker, and teacher, living in St. Louis, Missouri. Her work has appeared in publications such as Grit, Pockets, True Love, Fun for Kidz, Missouri Life, ByLine Magazine, and The Chicago Tribune. She is a columnist, instructor, and contributing editor for WOW! Women On Writing. She is the memoir editor at High Hill Press and the assistant editor for the Sunday Books page in The News-Gazette. Her first book, Finding My Place, a middle-grade historical novel, will be published by White Mane Kids. High Hill Press will publish her children's picture book, Lucy's Listening. She writes a blog called, Read These Books and Use Them, for parents, teachers, and librarians. She owns her own copyediting business, Editor 911, and is an instructor for the Working Writers Coaching Club and the WOW! Women On Writing Classroom. She loves speaking to writing groups, teachers, and young writers and has presented several workshops to all ages. When she's not writing or speaking, she loves spending time with her husband, stepson, daughter, and dog-Chester, a boxer. You can find out more about Margo by visiting her website: www.margodill.com.

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Historical Fiction Writing: Experts' Insight into the Genre

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Nobody ever said writing historical fiction was easy. Five ladies, who have all succeeded in the historical fiction genre from middle grade to adult, attempt to shed some light on what it's like to write these novels, how much research it takes, what to do with all the facts and figures when telling a story, and how to get a historical fiction book noticed among the vampires, werewolves, and spy thrillers.

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Does historical fiction have a duty to be factually accurate? It's a question I've found myself discussing a lot lately, most recently on BBC Radio 4's Today programme with Sarah Churchwell, who claimed that some historical novelists use "poetic licence" as an excuse for sloppy or minimal research. I had a conversation on the same theme the week before at the Independent Bath Literature festival with fellow novelist Sarah Dunant, who argued forcefully that authors have a responsibility to not present readers with deliberately false information about a historical character or period, and to make clear how much they have invented.

It's certainly true that historical fiction is enjoying a boom at the moment, from heavyweight prizewinners such as Hilary Mantel and Andrew Miller to more populist series from authors including Philippa Gregory, or historical crime by the likes of CJ Sansom, Jed Rubenfeld or my own alter ego, SJ Parris. It's also the case that for many readers, a historical novel might be their point of entry or perhaps their only real window into a particular period. Shouldn't authors therefore take care not to spread an "incorrect" version of what actually happened?

Well, no, in my view, although I do agree with Churchwell on the paramount importance of meticulous research. But novelists are not history teachers. It's not our job to educate people, and if we start using words like "duty" and "responsibility" about historical fiction - or any fiction - we're in danger of leaching all the vigour out of it with a sense of worthiness. A novelist has no real duty to anything except the story he or she is creating, the characters who inhabit it and whatever view of the world he or she is offering with the novel's ending. But if you are going to play fast and loose with historical fact for the sake of a good story, you'd better have done your research thoroughly if you want readers to take you seriously; only then will you have the authority to depart from those facts.

I have no problem with the idea of an author reinventing Abraham Lincoln as a vampire hunter, for example, as long as the fantasy is grounded in a knowledge of his biography and the book is well-written. At least it's obvious to readers that it's made up. Far more irritating to me are films such as Becoming Jane, which seemed so taken with the idea of turning Jane Austen into one of her own romantic heroines that it brushed aside even the most basic understanding of Austen's life and circumstances.

I've had a reader take me to task - rightly - over an incorrect detail of clothing worn by the hero of my books, the 16th-century Italian philosopher Giordano Bruno, even while they seemed quite happy to accept the much more flagrant invention of turning him into a spy who solves murders. Among my favourite novels as a teenager were Peter Ackroyd's The House of Doctor Dee and Hawksmoor, historical novels that shade into magic and fantasy, but do so from a solid foundation of knowledge of the period. I may not have learned "accurate" history from those books, but I acquired a love for the atmosphere of the past through the imagination of a great storyteller.

"Histori

cal fact" is an ambiguous term. We can point to certain events taking place on certain dates - though the further back you go, the more even the dates are open to doubt - but we often don't know what was said off the record, or how the principal players behaved when the chroniclers looked away. These undocumented areas often provide the most private, human moments, away from the public stage, and the blank spaces they leave are irresistible to a novelist. Even "straight" biographers and historians are not above a bit of imaginative colouring-in if it brings the story to life.
The growing popularity of narrative non-fiction, together with the penchant for dramatising key scenes in TV history documentaries, are a further reminder that stories and characters engage our imaginations beyond dates, treaties and troop movements - though in the best history and biography, you'd hope to find both.

The words "based on" and "author's note" are essential to the historical novelist's toolkit. By making clear that you're writing fiction, you claim the freedom to speculate, to stray beyond what is known, and so breathe new life into long-dead characters. Any attempt to recreate the past requires a leap of imagination. If a bit of poetic licence in historical fiction helps to keep people's interest in the past alive, so much the better.

* Treachery by SJ Parris is published by HarperCollins
Topics

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Does historical fiction have a duty to be factually accurate? It's a question I've found myself discussing a lot lately, most recently on BBC Radio 4's Today programme with Sarah Churchwell, who claimed that some historical novelists use "poetic licence" as an excuse for sloppy or minimal research.

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The definition of historical fiction is simple - it's a literary genre in which the story is set in the past. But why would we read a fictional story set in the past in order to learn history if we can read a history book instead? Wouldn't a history book be more accurate and teach us more?

What Maps and History Can't Teach Us

Let me try to answer these questions by using an analogy of a map. Imagine a map of my La Latina neighborhood in Madrid.

It shows you exactly where the streets and main sightseeing attractions are, as well as precise distances between places. It also allows us to see La Latina's place within the bigger map of Madrid and shows us how it connects with other neighborhoods. In short, it's a necessary tool for someone who wants to find their way around the neighborhood.

Now let me take you for an imaginary walk in La Latina. According to the map, if we go down Segovia Street in the direction of Manzanares river, we will reach the intersection with Bailén Street. But what happens when we reach the intersection?

We see that even though the two streets cross on the map, Bailén Street passes over Segovia Street at an elevation of 25 meters. We would have to climb a long set of stairs in order to reach it.

The map has provided us with exact information. It was correct. But we had to take a walk - if only imaginary - on the streets of the city in order to discover that it also has texture.

And no map of La Latina will ever transmit the clamor of children streaming out of the school on Plaza de la Paja, the scent of freshly ground coffee at La Ruda café, nor the colors of Spanish fans in El Rastro flea market on a Sunday morning.

Historical fiction helps us imagine the richness of texture invisible in history books. Novels put human faces on historical figures we study about. They breathe life into the dry skeleton of facts. Fiction has the...

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Historical Fiction Can Help Us Learn History and Become Better People

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The definition of historical fiction is simple - it's a literary genre in which the story is set in the past. But why would we read a fictional story set in the past in order to learn history if we...

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As the author of a historical novel, Tasa's Song, one question from readers always comes up: What was real and what was imagined? As bestselling historical novelist Hilary Mantel said, "History, and science too, help put our small lives in context. But if we want to meet the dead looking alive, we turn to art."

The intersection and blurring of fact and fiction help define any historical novel. We know what the famous characters of long past have accomplished by reading history books (although historical evidence is often partial and historians include some element of interpretation). We have likely heard stories about our own ancestors through family lore. But we don't know, and have not experienced, their social and human motives and emotions inside their actual historical reality.

So what is the sweet spot between history and historical fiction?

Reading history allows us to understand what happened. Reading historical fiction allows us to be moved by what happened. Even after we know the facts, we continue to search for sense and meaning. That is at the essence of our humanity. The historical novelist exposes the reader to the inner lives of people across time and place, and in doing so illuminates history's untold stories, allowing the reader to experience a more complex truth. As Hilary Mantel said it best, "Historical fiction comes out of greed for experience. Violent curiosity drives us on, takes us far from our time, far from our shore, and often beyond our compass."

My own historical novel recounts the true events of my mother's early life in eastern Poland during the gathering storm of World War II. As a ten year old, she lived in a tiny rural village in 1933 when Hitler was named Chancellor of Germany. She was sixteen when, living under Soviet oppression during the first two years of the war, her mother was sent to Siberia. She was twenty when she lived in a bunker underneath a barn to escape the Nazis. These are the facts.

But a novel, different than a history book that recounts factual touch points of the past, tells a story and does so through character. What does this character think and feel? Now we are in the realm of fiction-historical fiction.

By using the touch points of my mother's particular story in creating historical fiction, I could reach into both the history of this time and place, and the humanity that filled it. Tasa's Song is told through the eyes of a character who makes her own choices, has her own thoughts, and experiences joy and suffering in the way she encounters the world on the page. So the very humanity of her character is something that unfolds as she acts and reacts to what happens scene after scene.

What is real and what is imagined? The novelist must create an authentic reality for you as a reader. To do that, the writer must understand the concrete world in which the novel's characters live and interact in order to create true-to-life scenes and dialogue. What does the village or city look like, what foods are people at that time eating, what clothing might they wear, what books or music are they reading and listening to? The simple answer to my question: what the characters think and feel and say and do is imagined, while whatever they interact with-a radio, a farming tool, a vehicle, the food and drink, a coin-is as close as possible to the real thing of that time period and in that place.

I was forewarned about writing a novel whose backdrop-World War II-is so huge and universally known; the concern being that the historic facts and details of this era must ring true, but not overpower the story itself-a delicate balance between history and fiction.

Amor Towles had that same challenge in his utterly absorbing bestselling novel, A Gentleman In Moscow (St. Martin's Press, September 2016). The setting is 20 th century Russia and the novel begins in 1922 when 33-year-old Count Alexander Ilyich Rostov is sentenced to a lifetime stay at the Metropol Hotel, which happens to be directly across from the Kremlin and adjacent to Theater Square. The novel takes place over several decades as the external world is changing. But, the world of this novel remains inside this luxurious hotel. As we get to know Count Rostov, we see he is reconciled, rather than resigned, to his situation of being on house arrest with a loss of freedom. And we learn that he is a student of history and a man devoted to living in the present.

When overhearing an exchange between a German and a Brit, as the German insists the only contribution the Russians had made to the West was the invention of vodka, Count Rostov first offers that of Chekhov and Tolstoy, "the bronze bookends on the mantelpiece of narrative" between the shorter form and the very long. The Count goes on to describe Chekhov's "flawless little stories" as "precise and uncluttered, they invite us into some corner of a household at some discrete hour in which the entire human condition is suddenly within reach, if heartbreakingly so." And for Tolstoy, he asks, "Can you conceive of a work greater in scope than War and Peace? One that moves so deftly from the parlor to the battlefield and back again? That so fully investigates how the individual is shaped by history, and history by the individual?"

Rostov is indeed shaped by his history on the pages of this charming, imaginative, richly detailed, and beautifully-written novel. There are nuggets everywhere, descriptions that take the reader back in time, wisdom that has us nodding "of course." Early in the story as the Count has to abandon his large suite (he is relegated to a 100 square foot room where, as he stands, he "banged his head on the slope of the ceiling"), he reflects how difficult it is to "bid our dearest possessions adieu," and eventually how we begin to hold them "more closely than we hold our friends. We carry them from place to place, often at considerable expense and inconvenience; we dust and polish their surfaces and reprimand children for playing too roughly in their vicinity-all the while, allowing memories to invest them with greater and greater importance." Just so.

On August 22 at 7:00 pm, Gramercy Books will feature A Gentleman In Moscow for our Gramercy Book Club and we're thrilled to have Ohio State University Russian History scholar, Nicholas Breyfogle, as our facilitator. Awarded the Ohio Academy of History Book Award in 2006 for Heretics and Colonizers: Forging Russia's Empire in the South Caucasus, he also is the co-editor of Peopling the Russian Periphery: Borderland Colonization in Eurasian History, and the co-editor of the online magazine Origins: Current Events in Historical Perspective.

Please join us on August 22 for a lively discussion that blends historical fact with artful fiction!
Written by Linda Kass Learn more about me on my personal website.
About the author: I began my career as a magazine writer and correspondent for regional and national publications and am now an assistant editor for Narrative, an online literary magazine. My debut novel, Tasa's Song, was inspired by my mother's early life in eastern Poland during the Second World War. It won a Bronze Medal for Historical Fiction from the Independent Publisher Award Program and was a 2016 Foreword INDIES Award Finalist. I am also the proud owner of Gramercy Books, central Ohio's newest indie bookstore!

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As the author of a historical novel, Tasa's Song, one question from readers always comes up: What was real and what was imagined? As bestselling historical novelist Hilary Mantel said, "History, and science too, help put our small lives in context. But if we want to meet the dead looking alive, we turn to art."

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Other historical subjects for Bravery: Rosa Parks  

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Other historical subjects for Bravery: Rosa Parks  

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By Myles Burke Features correspondent

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Rosa Parks (Credit: Getty Images)

On 1 December 1955 Rosa Parks was arrested in Montgomery, Alabama, for refusing to give her bus seat to a white passenger. In these exclusive BBC clips, discover how her courageous act of defiance set in motion a chain of events that ended segregation in the US, but at a personal cost to Parks herself.

On a winter's evening in 1955, a 42-year-old African-American woman named Rosa Parks, tired after a long day of work as a seamstress, boarded a bus in Montgomery, Alabama to get home. She paid her fare and took an empty seat in the area of the bus marked "coloured".

Fifty-five years earlier, Montgomery had passed a law to segregate bus passengers by race. The front of the bus was reserved for white citizens, the seats at the back for black citizens. But it had also become a custom that bus drivers would instruct a black passenger to give up their seat if there were no "white-only" seats.

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As the bus filled up, the bus driver James Blake demanded that she and three other black passengers give up their seats. Rosa Parks alone refused.

"I did this because I felt I was being violated as a human being. I had had a hard day at work on the job, [I was] physically tired as well as mentally vexed. I was sick of this type of thing we had to endure as a people because of our race," she later said in an interview with the BBC.

Rosa Parks to BBC: 'When I refused to move, he had me arrested'

The repercussions were swift. The bus was stopped, and Parks was promptly arrested by local police. On 5 December, she was found guilty of violating segregation laws, given a suspended sentence and fined $10, plus $4 in court costs.

The arrest was not an isolated event but a consequence of the Jim Crow laws, legislation designed to codify racism and marginalise black Americans. The laws governed almost every aspect of daily life, denying black Americans the right to vote and mandating the segregation of schools, toilets, public transport and restaurants.

This was not the first time someone had been arrested for refusing to give up a seat to a white passenger. Nine months previously, the same thing had happened to 15-year-old Claudette Colvin. But this time the act of quiet defiance proved to be a catalyst for change.

Punished for her bravery

Parks's outwardly calm appearance belied the fact that she was a seasoned activist who had been the secretary of the Montgomery chapter of the National Association for the Advancement of Coloured People (NAACP). Following her arrest, a boycott of the city's bus system was organised by the Montgomery Improvement Association, led by a 26-year-old-pastor named Martin Luther King Jr. The boycott lasted more than a year, crippling the public transportation system through lost revenue, and brought a national spotlight on the systemic racism inherent in the Jim Crow laws.

Meanwhile Parks's case made its way through the court system. It ultimately reached the US Supreme Court in December 1956, which ruled that bus segregation was unconstitutional.

But Parks was punished for her bravery: she lost her job at the department store in the wake of the boycott, and she faced death threats throughout the court proceedings.

In History

In History is a series which uses the BBC's unique audio and video archive to explore historical events that still resonate today

The year after the Supreme Court ruling, she and her husband, who also lost his job, moved to Detroit to escape the continual harassment.

In the years that followed, they both struggled to find work due to a backlash caused by her close association with the boycott. She also was plagued with health issues and medical bills. Despite this, she remained deeply involved in the fight for civil rights, campaigning in Detroit for fair housing and voter registration. She volunteered for local Democratic candidate John Conyers in his bid for Congress, who when elected, hired her as his assistant in his Detroit office, a position she held until her retirement.

Exclusive interview with Rosa Parks: 'I was mistreated'

The impact of Rosa Parks's arrest went far beyond merely putting an end to racial segregation on public transportation. Her quiet strength in the face of racism galvanised the black community, laying the foundations for civil rights campaigns, including the historic March on Washington in 1963 and the eventual passing of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965.

"I think that if there was any one point, one event in the civil rights movement that started in the 1950s you can pinpoint to the Montgomery Bus Boycott and Miss Parks... which was symbolised by this courtroom and her conviction in it," says Fred Gray, Rosa Parks's lawyer in the BBC interview.

Her refusal to give up her seat fuelled the momentum of a mass movement that would ultimately dismantle the racist policies of segregation. And she herself became a symbol of the struggle for justice and equality.

In 1999, the US Congress awarded her its highest honour, the Congressional Gold Medal, calling her "the mother of the civil rights movement".

In History is a series which uses the BBC's unique audio and video archive to explore historical events that still resonate today.

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Rosa Parks: The 'no' that sparked the civil rights movement

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On 1 December 1955, Rosa Parks was arrested in Alabama for refusing to give up her bus seat to a white man. Discover how her act of defiance sparked the US civil rights movement.

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WHAT IS A CLIFFHANGER? | 3-Minute Fiction Fixit

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By BBC Maestro

Last updated: 13 April 2023

Have you ever read a book that you just couldn't put down? One that had you up all night turning page after page until you got to the end? We bet that cliffhanger endings had something to do with it.
But as a writer, how do you create that unputdownable feeling for readers? Let's look at some of the techniques you might use in your own work.

What is a cliffhanger?

Cliffhangers are a plot device in which an element of a story is left unresolved. They're designed to get readers to turn the page and keep reading to find out what happens next in the story - or to discover what happens next in a novel series.

As Lee Child explains in his BBC Maestro course, Writing Popular Fiction:

"The most important thing to understand is that although it must round off the chapter in some satisfying way, it is not really an ending at all. It must satisfy but not satiate, because the purpose of a chapter ending is to compel you to read the next chapter."

He goes on to explain:

"Therefore it is usually a cliffhanger of some kind, involving a twist or a revelation, that makes it harder for you to put the book down at precisely that point, which you might otherwise naturally be inclined to do. 'Just one more chapter,' you say, knowing that you have to get up for work in the morning, and then that one short chapter becomes another and another and another until before you know it, you have stayed up all night."

History of cliffhangers

Cliffhangers in literature have been used since the Middle Ages. In One Thousand and One Nights, often called Arabian Nights in English, Scheherazade tells King Shahryār a story every night for 1001 nights. At the end of each night, the story ends on a cliffhanger, ensuring she comes back the next day to finish the story off, and saving her from execution.

Later, in the 1820s, the Scottish comic magazine, The Glasgow Looking Glass, was innovative for its use of 'To be continued' at the end of every issue. Later, Charles Dickens further popularised the use of serialisation in his novels, which were all printed episodically in magazines. Dickens often responded to his readers' reactions to what was happening in his stories, changing his plot and characters based on their feedback.

Thomas Hardy was another novelist who used serialisation, most famously in A Pair of Blue Eyes. It's said that the term 'cliffhanger' actually comes from this novel, which was published in Tinsley's Magazine between September 1872 and July 1873. In one of the episodes, one of the main characters, Henry Knight, is left hanging off a cliff and readers had to wait until the next issue of the magazine to find out whether he survived.

Today, cliffhangers can be used in two ways: at the end of a chapter, to encourage people to keep reading, and at the end of the novel, to keep readers in suspense until the next instalment.

Tips for writing cliffhangers

So, how do you go about writing endings that will leave your reader wanting more? It's all about creating suspense. And suspense, according to Lee Child, doesn't come from the plot of your novel, but from the way, it's written:

"The mechanism of suspense doesn't really depend on the plot. It depends on pacing, timing and the artful manipulation of language. Suspense should pervade every word on the page."

This is true no matter what genre you're writing - but it's especially true for writing thrillers, where suspense, tension, excitement, and action are vital to the plot. Here are some ways you can keep your reader invested in your story with cliffhangers.

Withhold key information from your reader

Cliffhangers keep readers engrossed because it leaves them with a certain sense of not knowing. That lack of knowledge is one of the key ways you can create a sense of suspense throughout your novel, and with your cliffhanger endings. Lee Child says:

"You ask or imply a question at the beginning of the book and you do not answer it until the end. It's as simple as that."

During the action, for example, you could have a detective approaching a dark house and hearing a scream - but at the end of the chapter, you don't reveal who was screaming. The reader has to keep reading to find out in the next chapter (or perhaps at the end of the book).

Lee Child explains further:

"Asking a question at the beginning is the way to get your story rolling, the way to kick-start that forward motion. Not answering that question for as long as possible is the way to make your story last the length of a novel."

You may also want to create a cliffhanger ending by not answering the question fully at the end of the novel, putting a spin on events to introduce an element of doubt, or by introducing a new question that leaves the reader wondering.

Tie up loose ends

That being said, it's important to consider the plot and structure of your story carefully if you're ending on a cliffhanger. If major plot points are left unresolved at the end of the novel, it can be dissatisfying for readers.

For example, if there are hero and villain characters who are building up to a fight scene, it could leave readers feeling annoyed if you don't let them battle it out.

It's best to tie up that plot point before leaving readers on a cliffhanger. In this example, after the hero protagonist defeats the novel's villain, perhaps a third character could emerge from the shadows. Is this a new villain for the hero to deal with, just as they thought their troubles were over? Readers will have to wait until the next book to find out...

Hint at the future

That leads us on to our next point: creating a cliffhanger with hints at what's to come next. Hinting at the future is a great way to create suspense and keep the reader wondering what will happen, long after they turn the final page and put the book down.

At the end of your novel, you want to strike a balance between tying up plot points and setting up the story for sequels.

Avoid introducing any major new developments or characters that can't be tied up before the end - again, this will leave your readers feeling dissatisfied. But dropping mentions of plots and characters to come could be the perfect cliffhanger - and it gives you a strong starting point for your next novel.

Use rhythm to create a heightened sense of pace

Your cliffhanger will be more effective if you build up to it with pacy writing that creates suspense and tension.

Rhythm in writing helps to build excitement as you build up towards the end of the chapter or book - or, alternatively, it can slow the action right down to make the reader feel wary of what's about to come. Either way, rhythm helps to create a sense of anticipation, just as cliffhangers do.

Leave clues throughout the story

You might want to end the story with a twist, which is a great way to create a cliffhanger ending. But a twist that comes completely out of the blue can, again, be dissatisfying for readers.

Instead, try to plant small seeds throughout the story so it doesn't come as a total shock to your reader. It could be an off-hand comment that one character makes to another, or something innocuous that later turns out to have great meaning.

However you set it up, it should leave readers feeling surprised, but not in disbelief or annoyance at a plot twist that comes out of left field.

Consider the point of view

Think about what will be more exciting for your readers: a first or third-person point of view. You may be able to create a more suspenseful ending by writing in the first person - that way, readers only know as much as the narrator knows.

Alternatively, writing in the third person allows you to create suspense by arming the reader with knowledge that the main character doesn't have. That means that you could create a cliffhanger by sending the character into a situation that they don't realise is dangerous, but the reader does.

Play around with different points of view to see what works best for the story you're trying to tell.

Cliffhanger endings are a fantastic way to keep your reader turning the pages, if you put them at the end of your chapters. They're also a good way to encourage readers to pick up the next instalment in a novel series, and hopefully these tips will help you to create more suspenseful writing.
If you're looking for more ideas and inspiration for writing, take a look at Lee Child's course on Writing Popular Fiction, as well as our full range of online writing courses from some of the best names in the industry, including Malorie Blackman, Jed Mercurio, Alan Moore and Carol Ann Duffy.

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Discover how to write a cliffhanger ending that your readers just can't forget, with this useful guide.

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Do you love a good cliffhanger? Most readers do. Whether they entail a twist that hits like a tidal wave or employ a more subtle revelation, cliffhangers keep readers eagerly turning the pages-even when they're unaware of a cliffhanger's meaning and function.

But what is the definition of cliffhanger? And how can we, as writers, master the use of cliffhangers to write a book that holds readers all the way to the very end?

In this article, we'll dig deep into what a real cliffhanger is, what it does, and how you can create consistently potent cliffhangers in your own writing.

Cliffhangers Move Readers

You may think a cliffhanger is about setting up a situation fraught with action and danger, and that's true on a basic level. But the anatomy of effective cliffhangers is more complex, more interesting, and more achievable than you may imagine.

Soap operas and television series make good use of cliffhangers to keep viewers glued to the screen and carry them through to the final episode. Writers can use similar techniques to capture readers.
Consider the oldest joke in the world, right:

Question: Why did the chicken cross the road?

Answer: To get to the other side.

That's exactly what cliffhangers do for your readers. They move readers from the end of one chapter to the beginning of the next.

And they do it with rocket fuel.

But what if you launch your reader into the next chapter of your book without giving them a solid landing strip? You may have thrown them right out of your book.

Cliffhangers can create a perilous, hanging-by-a-fingernail chapter ending. But that's only half of the equation.

They can also be a lot more subtle, if you know how to do them right.

Cliffhanger Meaning: Definition and Purpose

Cliffhangers occur when writers do more than just stop writing at the end of a scene. They happen when the writer makes the effort to build something compelling into that chapter ending.
Cliffhangers are writing devices that serve three important purposes:

1. They keep readers from putting the book down at the end of a chapter

2. They hold the book together, creating bridges across the gaps between chapters

3. They provide momentum, keeping readers moving forward to the end of the book

The function of a cliffhanger is to propel your reader along to the end of your story. So to be effective, you need a whole chain of cliffhangers. This is how the bestselling authors of genre fiction do it.

You can't deliver a novel in one huge chunk. Few would start reading such a tome, and no one would finish it.

As readers, we need breaks, breathers, indications of progress as settings or characters change. That's one reason we structure books into chapters and scenes.

The problem is that readers also see those scene or chapter breaks as a good place to stick a bookmark in it. Life is busy. Sometimes they don't come back.

Correctly using both halves of the equation in an effective chain of cliffhangers will make your book hard to put down and spur readers to come back if they're forced to stop reading.

The Formula for Great Cliffhangers

(1 Cliffhanger Ending + 1 Engaging Opening) x Chapters = A Book Readers Won't Put Down

The (Often) Forgotten Half of a Cliffhanger Equation

The obvious half of a cliffhanger is what everyone thinks about when they hear the term-a riveting chapter ending.

The other half is the opening of the next chapter.

These two halves must connect like two links in a chain:

Let's explore this more, starting with the opening of a chapter.

2 Essentials After the Cliffhanger

The beginning of a scene or chapter after a cliffhanger must do two things well:

1. Continue the momentum

When you create momentum in your book, readers feel like something is always happening, driving the story forward. You want them to feel a sense of movement.

A cliffhanger is the ideal place to jump the story to a different character, setting, or timeline-this delays the outcome and keeps your reader in suspense. In most cases, you should take advantage of this and make a jump.

A story is woven of threads: character threads, setting threads, theme threads, plot threads, time threads.

In a multiple viewpoint novel, you'll most likely jump to another character thread and pick up the storyline from a different POV. In a single viewpoint story, you may jump in time, setting, or theme. Because a story weaves threads, there's always someplace for you to jump.

If you choose to stay in the same setting, with the same character, you must make the situation worse after the cliffhanger. Think of it like a television show that cuts to commercial just as your character falls into the frying pan. After the break, you need to tip him into the fire.

A perfect example of this is from Will Vinton's Christmas Claymations Santa Claus is Coming to Town. At one point, Chris Kringle is traveling through the forest when a group of eerie-looking trees seize him. Winter Warlock appears and tells Chris that he's disturbed him for the "very last time." As he's held in the grip of the trees, Chris's eyes get super big as menacing music (dun, dun, dun) plays in the background. The scene fades to black, and . . .

Commercial break!

Did you feel the suspense? Viewers stay tuned to see what will happen to Chris after the break.

The cliffhanger sets up a suspenseful situation and builds the momentum up to a crucial moment before cutting the scene in half.

2. Ground the reader in the setting and POV character

Earlier in this blog series, we learned six types of key details that ground the viewer deep into the POV.

I cannot overstress the importance of this step. If you neglect it, jumping after the cliffhanger can bring readers to a jarring halt. How deep you go with the detail will depend on the pacing, and we'll discuss that in a future article.

A rule of thumb is at least 200 to 300 words of pulling readers in with POV details in the scene and chapter openings of the first half of your book. As the pace picks up toward the climax, that will thin out and readers will be carried by the momentum.

But for that to happen, a story needs to hook a reader with POV early, and pull them in deep. This facilitates moving readers from one story thread to another without popping them out or giving them an easy exit.

Remember that when you're opening a chapter, in many cases you are continuing on from a previous cliffhanger that occurred earlier in the book. In the meantime, you've taken your reader elsewhere, so it's vital that you give them reminders and reground them in the setting and POV.

That's the opening of a scene. Now let's move to the first half of the cliffhanger, the scene ending.

5 Basic Scene-Ending Cliffhangers

We'll examine five basic areas for scene-ending cliffhangers, each with countless sub-categories limited only by your imagination. We'll touch on a few of them you can use to spark ideas for cliffhangers in your own stories.
These cliffhangers are:
Learn more about the five basic cliffhangers below, and study them deeply with examples of cliffhangers from bestselling authors.

1. Physical Cliffhangers

Physical cliffhangers imperil your character in some physical way, cutting at the height of tension. The classic example is a man hanging from a cliff while the villain stomps on his fingers.

Of course, there are hundreds of ways you could employ physical elements in a cliffhanger that don't involve the edge of a cliff.

Be aware that you will layer the different types of cliffhangers for deeper impact. Watch for this in the examples ahead. You'll better understand what I'm talking about as we introduce more cliffhanger types.

The Peril Cut

The peril cut puts the character in some kind of physical danger and then cuts the scene at the worst point.

Make sure, if there is any kind of lengthy setup that needs to happen, that you take care of it earlier in the scene.

When the pace picks up toward the cliffhanger, you need to be quick and to the point. Don't immediately resolve the danger. Cut and jump, like we talked about before. Let your reader worry.

If you do stay in the setting, you must make the situation worse in the Opening.

Check out this example, from Michael Crichton's book State of Fear:

Sarah stomped on the accelerator and the engine rumbled forward, but in the next moment the ground gave way completely beneath them, and their vehicle nosed down. Evans saw the blue-ice wall of a crevasse. Then the vehicle began to tumble forward, and they were encased for an instant in a world of eerie blue before they plunged onward into the blackness below.

CUT!

This cliffhanger is multi-layered. Layering cliffhangers gives them depth and greater impact.

The Blackout

Think of this like a fade to black on the screen. It can come about in a lot of ways-unconsciousness, sleep, even death.

The blackout nearly always involves a time jump. When you come back to this character's viewpoint, you must account for that time. Let the reader know how much time has passed and how the character got out of the dilemma that caused the blackout.

You should cut and jump after the blackout, but don't stay away too long. The farther they get from the scene, the less readers will remember or care about it.

This example is from Labyrinth by Kate Mosse.

Without warning, a rough and callused hand, reeking of ale, clamped itself over her mouth. She cried out as she felt a sudden, sharp blow on the back of her head and she fell.

It seemed to take a long time for her to reach the ground. Then there were hands crawling all over her, like rats in a cellar, until they found what they wanted.

"Aqui es." Here it is.

It was the last thing Alais heard before the blackness closed over her.

CUT!

This is a prime example of a blackout cliffhanger, and you can be sure the author infused the wakeup scene with lots of sensory detail, emotion, and opinion to ground the reader in the next opening.

2. Character Cliffhangers

Character cliffhangers can tell us something new about a character, or piggyback off what we already know. Character cliffhangers and Emotional cliffhangers, which we'll talk about next, are the most common types of cliffhangers in the literary world.

Often subtle, character cliffhangers don't always include a lot of fanfare, but done right, they are highly effective.

They work by cutting at the optimum point, continuing the momentum, and grounding the reader in the opening.

There are numerous sub-categories of character cliffhangers writers can use to accomplish this. We'll look at three of them.

Character reveal

This happens when the cliffhanger builds up and peaks by revealing something pertinent about the character.

Think about Indiana Jones at the end of the opening scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark. He's just been through a dozen harrowing, life-threatening moments, but as he jumps into the getaway plane and it takes off, he freaks out about a little snake in his seat.

This shows us his fear of snakes, and we know it will come into play later in the story.

Here's another example from Jeffery Deaver's book The Blue Nowhere:

The guard left and the door slammed, leaving Gillette alone with his curiosity and itchy desire to get back to his circuit board. He sat shivering in the windowless room, which seemed to be less a place in the Real World than a scene from a computer game, one set in medieval times. This cell, he decided, was the chamber where the bodies of heretics broken on the rack were left to await the high executioner's ax.

CUT!

This cliffhanger reveals that Gillette thinks in terms of computer games, particularly their more violent aspects. His computer expertise becomes important to the story.

Informational

This gives readers a piece of information about what's going to happen, and should cut just at the point where the ramifications become clear.

This example is from Echo Park by Michael Connelly:

"Mr. Waits, fair warning," O'Shea said. "If you make an attempt to run, these officers will shoot you down. Do you understand that?"

"Of course," Waits said. "And they would do it gladly, I'm sure."

"Then we understand each other. Lead the way."

CUT!

This cliffhanger gets everyone-Mr. Waits, the POV character, Harry Bosch, and the reader-all on the same page about what's likely to happen. It also reinforces the dire consequences of that action.

Tip to the reader

This type of cliffhanger gives readers a little something extra, a heads up about something the characters don't know. It can heighten suspense or create dramatic irony.

Here's an example from Clive Cussler's Valhalla Rising.

"Don't underestimate them," said Burch. "Those guys are good. If anyone can ferret out the cause, they can."

Pitt turned and smiled at Burch. "I hope you're right, Skipper. I'm just glad it's not on my shoulders."

By the end of the week, Pitt would be proved wrong. Never would he have predicted that he would be the one called upon to solve the mystery.

CUT!

Notice how these cliffhangers are layered, combining elements from the different types. When you learn how to build both the blatant and the nuanced into your cliffhangers, you'll hold readers spellbound, unable to put your book down.

Next up, the third type of basic cliffhangers.

3. Emotional Cliffhangers

Emotional cliffhangers involve some kind of emotion and a character's response to that emotion. Any emotion can form the basis for a cliffhanger-if the reader is deeply grounded in the POV character.

The emotion can manifest inside the main character, or be from another character and comprise the POV character's reaction to the emotion. In some cases, it can even be directed at readers, designed to make them feel an emotion the characters are not experiencing.

These types of cliffhangers can be quite subtle and still be powerfully effective, but they must flow from a position of depth inside the viewpoint character. There is no limit to the number of sub-categories when it comes to emotional cliffhangers. They run the gamut of human emotion, but we'll look at examples for three different sub-types.

Basic emotion

Any kind of emotion can be the vehicle for this kind of cliffhanger-fear, anticipation, dread, joy, uncertainty, grief, jealousy. The list is endless. Using emotion is often a great way to close a chapter.

Look at this cliffhanger based on anger from Echo Park.

Pratt stood up.

"Tell you what, talk amongst yourselves. I'm going over to the boathouse to take a leak. When I come back I'll need an answer."

Pratt walked past Anthony, coming close, each man holding the other's eyes in a hard stare of hatred.

CUT!

Short and to the point, but it illustrates the concept well enough. Show the emotion and cut like a movie director, at a dramatic high mark.

Success or failure

Think of each character in a story as having their own character thread-with its ups and downs. Generally, when the protagonist is in a downswing, the villain is up. And vice versa. A great place to put a cliffhanger is right in the peak or valley of your viewpoint character's swing, their success or failure.

Here's another Echo Park example:

He was excited. A white van in a house where Raynard Waits had lived.

"That's it!" he called out. "He has to be in there with the girl. Rachel, we gotta go!"

They got up and hurried to the elevator.

CUT!

This cliffhanger occurs when Bosch is in an upswing, just discovering the long sought-after location of his quarry. And it represents a downswing for the villain, who is-we presume-about to get caught.

Resonating remark

This is a highly effective cliffhanger, and one of the most common. It cuts the scene right after a character says something particularly significant, suggestive, or pertinent.

Look at this example from The Blue Nowhere:

"But . . ." Sobbing now, shoulders slumped in hopelessness. "Who are you? You don't even know me. . . ."

"Not true, Lara," he whispered, studying her anguish the way an imperious chess master examines his defeated opponent's face. "I know everything about you. Everything in the world."

CUT!

Such a cliffhanger leaves readers with a delicious sense of curiosity and prompts them to turn the page and continue reading.

In the next section, we'll take a look at cliffhangers that arise from events inside the plot.

4. Plot Cliffhangers

Plot cliffhangers are triggered by events in the story.

The plot of a story consists of a chain of linked events, one leading to another in a cause and effect manner. These linked events often use a plot device to drive a cliffhanger, creating an ideal spot to cut and jump for maximum suspense.

You should remember, though, that the plot is not the story. The story is about theme and emotion, so plot cliffhangers tend to be thin unless layered with one or more of the other types of cliffhangers we've discussed.

We can't begin to cover every plot cliffhanger here, but we'll examine four types you can use as a springboard to create your own.

Leaping into the fray

This cliffhanger sets up a future chapter for high drama. Cut the scene just as the characters are stepping out to confront danger or looming disaster.

This example is from State of Fear:

The author suggested that the real news was the end of this long-term melting trend, and the first evidence of ice thickening. The author was hinting that this might be the first sign of the start of the next Ice Age.

The next Ice Age?

There was a knock on the door behind him. Sarah stuck her head in. "Kenner wants us," she said. "He's discovered something. Looks like we're going out on the ice."

CUT!

You'll find many applications for this type of cliffhanger as you weave your stories.

A plan

In this cliffhanger, the characters are faced with a problem, maybe one they've struggled with through several chapters without success. And then someone gets a brainstorm. Cut the scene before revealing the plan. Make readers wait for it!

Look at State of Fear for a great example:

Kenner said, "Did you find a computer?"

"No," she said. "There's nothing there. Nothing at all. No sleeping bag, no food, no personal effects. Nothing but a bare tent. The guy's gone."

Kenner swore. "All right," he said. "Now, listen carefully. Here's what we are going to do."

CUT!

In a subsequent chapter, when you pick up this thread again, you can either go into the details of the plan or simply take the reader along as the plan plays out.

Plot key

This kind of cliffhanger hits the spot and brings a burst of satisfaction. It occurs when a character finds a key piece of evidence or something else that moves the plot forward.

This example is from The Blue Nowhere:

Bishop's phone rang and he took the call, He listened for a moment and, while he didn't exactly smile, the cop's face grew animated. He picked up a pen and paper and started taking notes. After five minutes of jotting he hung up and glanced at the team.

"We don't have to call him Phate anymore. We've got his name."

CUT!

The plot key cliffhanger scratches an itch and provides forward movement for the story.

Ticking clock

This type of cliffhanger reminds readers that time is growing short and imparts a sort of urgency to the proceedings.

Here's an example from Valhalla Rising:

"Unless you can get the fire control systems operational in the next five minutes, this ship and everybody on it is doomed," McFerrin shouted.

Sheffield was becoming disoriented now. All he could think about was: His career at sea was in jeopardy. If he made the wrong decision now . . .

And the seconds ticked away.

His inaction would ultimately cost over a hundred lives. CUT!

Reach for this dramatic cliffhanger as a handy way to add urgency and boost reader anticipation. Notice how, in this instance, it's layered with a Tip to the Reader cliffhanger.

The last type of cliffhanger we'll look at is Thematic. This one might be the most difficult to incorporate, but well worth the effort.

5. Thematic Cliffhangers

Thematic cliffhangers incorporate something that illuminates a theme in the story.

Theme is the powerful undercurrent that runs beneath the story, delivering a message to the reader through events, dialogue, imagery and symbolism, character behavior and consequences of choices made, and so on.

As a cliffhanger, it's most effective to create a chapter ending early in the book which suggests failure in terms of the theme. Then, in one of the last chapters in the book, revisit the theme in another cliffhanger, showing progress and change. Or, in a tragedy, the lack of it.

Here's an example of a thematic cliffhanger from Echo Park:

It was every detective's nightmare. The worst-case scenario. A lead ignored or bungled, allowing something awful to be loose in the world. Something dark and evil, destroying life after life as it moved through the shadows. It was true that all detectives made mistakes and had to live with the regrets. But Bosch instinctively knew that this one was malignant. It would grow and grow inside until it darkened everything and he became the last victim, the last life destroyed.

He pulled out from the curb and into traffic to get air moving through the windows. He made a screeching U-turn and headed home.

CUT!

This cliffhanger hits on a deep level, hinting at the pervasive battle between good and evil and acknowledging that sometimes evil takes prisoners.

If you can tap into one of the universal themes of your chosen genre, your message will resonate with readers.

The Nature and Purpose of a Cliffhanger

Remember that a cliffhanger is more than just the place where you stopped writing at the end of a scene. Cliffhanging should provide a sense of movement, stir emotion, and keep readers turning pages all the way to the end of the book.

The most effective cliffhangers are multi-layered and are followed up by a powerfully engaging opening, employing deep POV details to ground readers in the next setting, character, or timeline.

Always read stories for pleasure first. But when you find a book that grabbed you and carried you all the way to the end, go back and study the cliffhangers the author used. Identify them by type, look at the openings that follow, sit down at your keyboard and type it. Get it into your fingers and your front brain, where the technique can work its way into your creative back brain and enrich your own work.

Cliffhangers bridge the gaps between the scenes and chapters in your book. They are important. Spend time working and studying, learning how to cliffhang effectively, and your books will pull readers all the way through from beginning to end!

Be sure to bookmark this page and refer to it often. Read the other articles in this series, too, in order to build a writer's toolbox that goes way beyond a thesaurus or an English textbook, helping you master the art of suspense.

And don't miss the next installment in this series-it's all about pacing! An essential for any book containing effective suspense.

How about you? What's your favorite kind of cliffhanger? Tell us about it in the comments.

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Cliffhanger Meaning 101: What They Are and How Writers Use Them

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Readers love a great cliffhanger, but not every writer understands the cliffhanger meaning and how to use them. This post teaches you how.

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Cliffhangers are a favorite technique of thriller and suspense writers, but every genre can benefit from a suspension in information. Cliffhangers contribute to pacing and tension, and they are one…

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How to make your writing suspenseful - Victoria Smith

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"This suspense is terrible. I hope it will last."

Oscar Wilde's words demonstrate exactly what is so captivating about suspense in literature: the agonisingly delicious experience of being on the edge of your seat while reading a thriller, hardly breathing as you tear through the pages to find out what happens next.

And what will happen next?

Well, when you read on you'll find out how to create suspense in such a way that your readers won't be able to put your story down until the very end.

In this article, we will explore various types of suspense that you'll find in literature, and discuss the different ways you can create it, along with studying lots of great examples of suspense.

What Is Suspense In Literature?

Suspense is all about who knows what.

As the author, you can withhold information from the reader, releasing it bit by bit to build towards a climactic moment of revelation. Or, writers can give the reader information that your character doesn't have, ensuring that the reader is nail-bitingly aware of the potential dangers and pitfalls the character can't see. All this creates suspense.

As we shall see, suspense in literature can be found in a wide variety of fiction genres, from horror to romance. Let's take a look at how to build tension in other forms.

Narrative/Long Term Suspense

Narrative suspense, also known as long term suspense, is drawn out over an entire story.

Think of Agatha Christie murder mystery novels, or courtroom dramas where the outcome of the trial is only revealed at the end. Long term suspense stories often have a subplot with suspense at its heart as well, which runs alongside and complements the main plot.

In Alex Reeve's Victorian London-set The House on Half Moon Street, protagonist Leo Stanhope investigates the murder of his love, Maria. Various leads are established and lead on to other clues and complications, drawing the investigation into darker and more dangerous territory.

Alongside that plot thread, suspense is also created with the subplot of Leo's hidden background as Charlotte, the daughter of a respectable reverend. As he closes in on the truth about what happened to Maria, the life he has created for himself as Leo is also imperilled.

Having these two longterm threads running throughout the narrative ensures that suspense is created and interest sustained across the course of an entire novel. The moments between investigative set-pieces, showing us Leo's life as a trans man in the 1880s, keep the suspense going as the readers develop their understanding of the personal cost the investigation has for him.

In your own suspense novel (or even movie), consider how you might use a subplot to supplement the main story. This approach adds depth to your story, and ensures your readers are gripped throughout as they don't know what is going to happen.

Short Term Suspense

Short term suspense is suspense that's created for brief moments or episodes in a story that otherwise does not rely on suspense throughout. Although all stories have suspense in some sense, short term suspense is for stories without the propelling tension that characterises long term suspense stories.

Short term suspense is often created through conflict between characters. A conversation or confrontation explodes over the course of a scene, though of course it may have been instigated earlier - and have ramifications for the characters and plot long after.

In Kiley Reid's Such a Fun Age, where Black babysitter Emira is accused of kidnapping the white child she's employed to look after during a trip to the supermarket, the confrontation (escalated when a passer-by films it on his phone) is over by the end of the first chapter, but its after-effects are felt throughout the rest of the novel.

To create a suspenseful moment in your own writing, you can make use of short, dramatic events. Think about how these brief moments can be used to propel your plot forward or to develop your characters. And remember - even a quick event can have a long shadow.

Mysterious Suspense

Mysterious suspense can be found in murder mysteries and thriller novels, where a key detail is kept until close to the end. This type of suspense often has a plot twist, where a surprising ending is, on reflection, inevitable once you look back at the trail the writer has cunningly laid.

In River Solomon's sci-fi novel An Unkindness of Ghosts, the main character, Aster, works to uncover the mystery of her dead mother's journals, which initially seem to be nonsensical ravings. As Aster learns more about the HSS Matilda, a space vessel on which she and generations before her have been enslaved, the mystery of her mother's journals leads her to make an earth-shattering discovery about the ship itself. Words and notations in the journal which originally seem to mean little, come to have vast significance later on.

When writing your own mysteries, there's a delicate balancing act to ensure you have planted clues throughout that lead towards the final revelation, without making those elements so obvious that your readers can work out the mystery before you want them to.

Horrific Suspense

Imagine a character creeping through a darkened hallway. Behind them, a shadow moves. Is it a person?

Then a noise from ahead.

A footstep?

That's horrific suspense. Closely related to short term suspense, horrific suspense is when your reader or audience is waiting for something terrible to happen. As the name suggests, it's most often found in horror stories, though thrillers may have it as well. The key is setting up an expectation that something awful will happen.

Some of the best examples of horrific suspense play with this expectation.

The first episode of the TV series The Walking Dead does this to great effect. Rick has just woken up from a coma in a deserted hospital. Trying to find a way out, Rick finds a stairwell - but it's completely black. Of course, we immediately assume that the dark contains the 'walking dead' (zombies).

The next couple of minutes show Rick inching downstairs, helped only by a tiny pool of light from some matches. At every moment, the audience expects Rick to be attacked - especially when the matches keep going out and the periods of complete darkness get longer, accompanied only by Rick's panicked breathing.

But ultimately, the climax of the scene isn't a vicious attack: Rick finds a door and bursts into the sunlight (and the audience breathes for the first time in a while).

When writing horrific suspense, remember that you are setting up and either fulfilling or subverting an expectation. As in the 'Walking Dead' example, nothing has to actually happen for it to be horrific - but the reader should expect it to, leaving them following the character's actions with dread.

Romantic/Comedic Suspense

Romantic and comedic suspense are similar because they're both lighter in tone than the examples we've discussed so far.

With romantic suspense, the reader or audience is primarily invested in the will-they-won't-they drama - think of Ross and Rachel from the series Friends, for example. In this type, suspense is often created by misunderstandings, miscommunications, and obstacles that work to make the characters' relationship seem impossible.

Akwaeke Emezi's romance novel You Made a Fool of Death With Your Beauty, throws some significant obstacles in the way of the main character Feyi, a young widow and artist who has begun to open herself up to love again. However, the person she is most drawn to is not the person she's begun a relationship with, Nasir, but his father, Alim, who understands her grief in a way that Nasir cannot.

With comedic suspense, the key is inevitability. The reader or audience should have a clear expectation of what hilarious consequence is going to ensue, and seeing it develop only heightens the humour. This can be achieved either with dramatic irony, when the audience knows something the character doesn't, or with an expectation that arises logically out of the situation.

In the courtroom scene of Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice, the tension of the trial is broken with the comedic suspense of Bassanio and Gratiano's pronouncements that they would both rather their wives were dead than their friend Antonio. Unlike the audience, they are unaware that their wives are right there in the courtroom, in disguise as lawyers, and are clearly unimpressed with their statements.

Now that we know the different types of suspense, let's have a look at ways we can create them.

How To Write Suspenseful Stories

To create suspenseful stories, you can employ a variety of techniques, such as foreshadowing, flashbacks, red herrings, obstacles, and pace.

Foreshadowing

Foreshadowing is when you drop hints in your suspense story about something before it arises.

In Carlos Ruiz Zafón's The Shadow of the Wind, Daniel is allowed to choose one book from the Cemetery of Forgotten Books to keep: 'Page after page I let the spell of the story and its world take me over'. Here, Zafón foreshadows later events where the book, and the mystery behind it, do indeed take over Daniel's life.

Flashbacks

Flashbacks are used to show a reader something that occurs before the main action of a story. In Celeste Ng's Little Fires Everywhere, flashbacks are used to reveal the backstory of Mia Wright, including the shocking secret she's been hiding from her daughter. Suspense is added with the additional understanding that an insight into the past benefits the reader.

Red Herring

Red herrings are false or misleading clues that you can lay for your reader to conceal the truth from them. You want a red herring to be a logical assumption that nevertheless turns out to be false, while it is obvious in hindsight that the real truth was hinted at all along.

Obstacles

Obstacles are key to ensuring your story has effective suspense.

In Shelley Parker-Chan's She Who Became the Sun, we follow Zhu Chongba, the assumed male identity of a peasant girl who rises in power and influence to claim her destiny. In addition to the trials of someone moving up a rigid class structure, there are the extra challenges of Zhu concealing her identity from the people around her.

Pacing

Pace is the speed at which a narrative appears to be moving. You can create an agonisingly slow pace that draws out the tension to the breaking point, or a fast pace that puts the reader on the edge of their seat with breakneck action. Paragraph and sentence length are one of the most effective ways to achieve this: longer sentences for a slow pace; shorter, sharper sentences for a fast pace.

Creating Suspense: Top Tips

To use suspense well, take a look at the following ideas.

Time Limit

This can be short term, like a countdown on an explosive; or longer term: for instance, if the character knows they are sick, and wants to complete a task before their impending death, like the villainous Von Rumpel in Anthony Doerr's All the Light We Cannot See.

Point Of View

One way to tell your story is from the point of view of an omniscient narrator, who knows everything and can impart information to the reader that the characters do not know.

You can also use third person limited - your narrator is external to the story, but the reader mostly only knows what the character does. Or first person, where the reader inhabits the mind of your character(s) entirely.

These points of view allow you to make different choices about when to retain or reveal information.

Cliffhangers

It's not for nothing that the Latin root of 'suspense' is from the word 'suspensus': suspended, hovering, doubtful. Ending a chapter at a dramatic moment without revealing the outcome guarantees that your reader will be desperate to turn the page and read on.

Characters

You can build all the suspense you like, but if the reader doesn't care about your character then it's all for nothing.

That doesn't mean your character has to be blandly perfect; but we must be invested in them, care about their journey, and be waiting to see what happens to them. Giving your character a vulnerability is one way to ensure your readers care about them; another is giving your character something to care about themselves. (That is why John Wick has a puppy.)

Raise The Stakes

The aforementioned She Who Became the Sun does this wonderfully. At first, peasant Zhu Chongba has little to lose if her concealed identity is uncovered. By the time that she has risen to commanding armies, with hundreds of people who rely on and respect her, the stakes have been raised to unbelievable levels - which means the suspense has been, as well.

Frequently Asked Questions

What Is An Example Of Suspense?

An example of suspense is Cormac McCarthy's The Road, where we follow a father desperately trying to keep his child alive in a dangerous and dying world. Their challenges - finding food, staying warm, evading capture - become increasingly terrifying and insurmountable, and readers are constantly on edge as they wonder how it is possible to for the two to stay alive (and retain their humanity) in such a world.

How Would You Describe Suspense?

Suspense is that nail-biting, edge of your seat, holding your breath feeling that comes when you are waiting for something to happen, or waiting to find out what will happen. It is achieved through the controlled release of information by the writer.

What Literary Techniques Create Suspense?

Suspense can be created with these literary devices:

Dramatic irony (the reader knows something the character doesn't)

Pace (fast or slow action)

Foreshadowing (hints about what is to come)

Flashbacks (moments from the past interspersed in the present-day narrative)

Point of view (how the story is told, such as first person - from a character's viewpoint - or third person - from a narrative voice external to the story)

Build Suspense And Meet Reader Expectations

Whether you want to include a plot twist, raise tension, hide answers, or keep your reader up past their bedtime, suspense is a highly effective tool in your writer's kitbag.

Remember the key is control of information: as the writer, you have all the answers - but you can choose when to reveal those to your characters, and to your readers.

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Suspense Definition- Literature: Tips For Writing Suspense - Jericho Writers

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How do you write powerful suspense? Learn how to keep your readers on the edge of their seats with our top tips!

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Suspense refers to both genre and a storytelling device that creates tension and builds your reader's desire to find out. Read suspense writing examples, learn suspense-adding story devices you can use, and what experts at creating suspense say.

What is suspense?

Suspense (defined by Oxford Languages) is 'a state or feeling of excited or anxious uncertainty about what may happen'. It comes from the Latin suspensus meaning 'suspended, hovering, doubtful'.

Suspense as a literary device refers to the excited or anxious uncertainty the reader feels. A feeling created by narrative tone, mood and questions. What's said, implied, and inferred. The baked-in, half-afraid 'and then?'

Libraries and book merchants often group Suspense with 'Mystery' and 'Thriller'. These two genres have strong elements of suspense, such as high tension, elaborately-constructed plot (including the use of plot twists). Suspenseful writing has a sense of urgency, often due to high stakes with life-or-death or otherwise vital potential outcomes.

Suspense vs mystery: What's the difference?

Genre can be confusing because a suspense novel (such as a psychological suspense) may have mysterious elements, while a mystery novel uses suspense to drive questions (such as the reader's anxious anticipation for the revelation of a killer's identity, or that of their latest victim).

Writer Marianne Joyce gives an excellent definition via Quora of elements that distinguish suspense from mystery:

A mystery is constructed as a puzzle to be solved, generally opening with a murder or a dead body, a detective protagonist (formal or informal) trying to figure out "whodunit" [...]

A suspense story opens with the equivalent of a killer planning a murder that has not yet occurred. The story is a race to prevent the killer from carrying out her plan. The protagonist is not limited to a "detective." The appeal is more visceral and the interest is in resolving the tension of waiting for something bad to happen.

The two genres share some of the same elements, but the satisfactions are different. In mystery, the bad thing has already happened. In suspense, it hasn't happened yet. Not to say there aren't many variations and cross-overs and hybrid forms, but the difference between the two genres is in the nature of the basic appeal.
Marianne Joyce, answer to question 'What is the difference between "Mystery" and "Suspense"?', via Quora

In this article, we'll be focusing primarily on suspense as a literary device, how to write tenser stories that keep readers gripped and guessing, in any genre (such as writing horror, thriller, mystery or action).

Who are popular writers of suspense in fiction and film?

Before we explore suspense writing examples and devices, who are considered masters of suspenseful storytelling?

Authors of suspense stories in fiction

In suspense fiction writing in English, names you may come across include:

Dame Agatha Christie - British author of murder mystery detective novels and crime short stories. Perhaps best known for her books focusing on inspector Hercule Poirot

John Le Carré - British-Irish author famed for spy thrillers, novels about espionage

Patricia Highsmith - American novelist and short-story writer of psychological thrillers. Best known for her 'Mr Ripley' character

Harlan Coben - American author of mystery/thriller novels, the first author to receive the trifecta of the Edgar Award, Shamus Award and Anthony Award

Gillian Flynn - American author of mystery and psychological suspense hits such as Sharp Objects and Gone Girl (Read her advice on writing what you know.)

Liane Moriarty - Australian author of mystery thriller hits such as Big Little Lies (2014) which won the Australian Sisters in Crime Davitt Award

Thomas Harris - American author best known for his cannibal suspense character Hannibal and the films and eponymous series it spawned

Paula Hawkins - British author of mystery and psychological suspense and the hit novel The Girl on the Train

Shari Lapena - Canadian author of mystery-suspense and thrillers best known for the 2016 bestseller The Couple Next Door

JD Robb - the pseudonym of US author Nora Roberts who writes romantic suspense

Wanda M. Morris - American author and corporate attorney who writes legal thrillers meets mystery/suspense and has featured on many 'best of' mystery and suspense lists

Grace D. Li - American author of Portrait of a Thief , a heist novel nominated for the 2023 Edgar Allan Poe Awards (awarded by the Mystery Writers of America) for best mystery/suspense novel

Danya Kukafka - American literary agent and author of literary suspense novel Notes on an Execution, awarded one of NYT's best crime novel in 2022

Suspense screenwriters and directors

Top names in suspense film and TV include:

Sir Alfred Hitchcock - British director known as 'The Master of Suspense'. One of the most influential film directors of the 20th Century, Hitchcock was a master of creating suspense via editing, sound, and every other element of visual storytelling

Rod Serling - American creator, writer and narrator of cult classic TV series, The Twilight Zone, which blended SFF with suspense, mystery, horror and psychological thriller

Ray Bradbury and Roald Dahl - better known for their science fiction and dark comic children's writing respectively, both also wrote many episodes of Hitchcock's suspense anthology series (which propelled him to a household name), Alfred Hitchcock Presents

Billy Wilder - co-writer of Sunset Boulevard (1950), the black comedy/film noir classic often listed as one of the best films ever made. Also various Oscar-winning romantic comedies and other genres with crossover suspense elements, such as The Apartment (1960)

If suspense with plot twists aplenty is what you want to write, IMDB has a list of suspense screenwriters who wrote some of the most twisty screenplays.

🗣️ Who are your favorite suspense writers or directors? Tell us in the comments.

How to write suspense: 10 tension-adding devices

Thinking about how to create suspense in stories? Here are ten narrative devices. Keep reading for examples of suspenseful story openings and descriptions.

1. Use deeper POV to create angst
Suspense builds when we have empathy for characters' worries and concerns. Deeper POV can capture your MC's angst.

2. Use tense tone and mood in description
Suspense writing examples show how tone and mood build nervous or excited anticipation. What promises drama, like a hidden, ticking bomb?

3. Write shorter sentences that beg questions
What was that sound from the attic? Try shorter sentences that create anticipation for something sinister, troubling or exciting.

4. Defer character and plot reveals
For example, a friend needs to tell another something troubling about a new partner (but they get distracted during their brief encounter).

5. Carry over urgent resolutions (create cliffhangers)
Where can you end a story segment so that your reader/viewer is impatient for what they'll still find out?

6. Play with non-linear timelines
Non-linear timelines create suspense by giving pieces of story without immediately giving their fuller, mystery-solving context.

7. Use structured, teasing fragments
You might have a chapter or prologue that's just teasing or troubling action (see the example by Frieda McFadden).

8. Use dramatic irony
Dramatic irony is when your reader knows more than a character does (for example, the innocent traveler does not see illegal substances being concealed in their suitcase by a smuggler).

9. Milk off-stage character introductions for suspense
Joseph Conrad builds and builds the reader's anticipation for meeting Mr Kurtz with what is said about him in absentia in Heart of Darkness.

10. Infer the impending unpleasant
What can you hint is coming that your characters (and readers, by extension) won't be happy about?

Let's explore each of these suspense writing ideas a little further:

Write suspenseful sentences in deeper POV

Deep POV brings us closer to characters, even when the person of narration is limited third rather than first person (he/she/they instead of I), or even in the more uncommon second person.

In suspense writing, the closeness of deep POV that shows more than tells is great for creating psychological suspense; a deep sense of a troubled mind or scenario.
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For example, in Notes on an Execution, Danya Kukafka begins with a character (narrated in second person) awakening in prison on the last day of their life:

You are a fingerprint.
When you open your eyes on the last day of your life, you see your own thumb. In the jaundiced prison light, the lines on the pad of your thumb look like a dried-out riverbed, like sand washed into twirling patterns by water, once there and now gone.
Danya Kukafka, Notes on an Execution (2022), p. 3.

We see through serial killer character Ansel Packer's eyes immediately (no telling exposition, e.g. 'Ansel is a prisoner awaiting execution').

The effective story opening makes the reader curious what Packer did to land in prison. We're curious to learn why it is the last day of his life.

Use tense tone and mood in description

Suspense writing examples like the story opening above aren't all explosions and the sound of running. Yet tense tone and mood in description help to establish anxious anticipation.

Sometimes suspense is as light as a cloud of hovering suspicion.
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See how Dame Agatha Christie creates the sense of a first encounter that sows a feeling of dislike and suspicion in her narrator in her first Poirot book:

"Styles is a really glorious old place," I said to John.
"Yes, it's a fine property. It'll be mine someday - should be mine now by rights, if my father had only made a decent will. And then I shouldn't be so damned hard up as I am now."
"Hard up, are you?"
"My dear Hastings, I don't mind telling you that I'm at my wit's end for money."
"Couldn't your brother help you?"
"Lawrence? He's gone through every penny he ever had, publishing rotten verses in fancy bindings. No, we're an impecunious lot. My mother's always been awfully good to us, I must say. That is, up to now. Since her marriage, of course -" he broke off, frowning.
For the first time I felt that, with Evelyn Howard, something indefinable had gone from the atmosphere. Her presence had spelt security. Now that security was removed - and the air seemed rife with suspicion.
Agatha Christie, The Mysterious Affair at Styles (1920), p. 10.

Hercule Poirot's friend Hastings narrates the story. The above segment is shortly before the wealthy owner of the manor Hastings is staying at is poisoned, leading Hastings to seek Poirot's investigative eye.

Tone and mood words that build suspense

What words and descriptors in the above suspense writing example (and in general) build suspenseful anticipation?

Christie uses words such as:

security (implying its disappearance)

suspicion (implying an atmosphere becoming full of it)

There is also trailing off, self-interruption - the suspenseful inference of empty space, non-speech.

Words (and silences) that imply uncertainty, unease and the potential for conflict create suspense.

In suspenseful writing, people (or things) often vanish, reappear unexpectedly (or in unexpected contexts), change, darken in implication, seeming intent, or association. A small deception or strange utterance may make the reader wonder what greater deceptions (or stranger utterances) lurk around the next corner.

Write shorter sentences that beg questions

If you examine Christie's style, it is quite ornate. Earlier suspense, mystery, and thriller writing (such as in the 'Golden Age' of mystery) often reflects the mannered discourse (language system) of its times.

Yet short, clipped sentences are often favored in contemporary suspense fiction. The segment after the opening above, from Kukafka's literary suspense novel, for example, starts:

Inmate, state your name and number.

Ansel Packer, you call out. 999631.
Kukafka, p. 3.

The guard's instruction confirms the opening's inference that Ansel is in prison. Ansel's description of his cell proceeds to this clear question on the next page:

The chaplain spoke about forgiveness and relieving the burden, and accepting what we cannot change. Then, the question.
Your witness, the chaplain said through the visitation. Is she coming?
Kukafka, p. 4.

See how short sentences and fragments (e.g. 'Then, the question') create anticipation for what's to come. Questions about questions. Witnesses (who they could be, what they may say or do).

Defer character and plot reveals

One trick in how to create suspense is extraordinarily simple: Defer. Say, 'not now' to the reader (but also 'wait and you'll find out soon'). The way a YouTuber might say 'Keep watching this video to find out if...'

Here's an example from episode 101 of The Twilight Zone (showing how the series made good use of situational suspense), written by Rod Sterling:

It is dawn, the road is deserted save for a small diner on the left-hand side. A broken neon light flashes on and off over the front door.
From inside the sound of a rock-'n'-roll record lends a strange, raucous dissonance to the early morning silence. Then the camera sweeps right for a

LONG SHOT [OF] MIKE FERRIS

Who suddenly appears, walking down the road. His step is tentative, unsure. He's a tall man in his thirties. His dress is nondescript, his only identifiable garment being army pants. There's an indecisiveness, a puzzlement, in his features as he comes closer to the camera, sees the diner, stops, rubs his knuckles over the side of his face and feels his beard's stubble. He pats in his pocket, unsure, reaches in and pulls out a couple of dollar bills. For some reason this buoys him up. He looks a little more resolved as he walks up the steps and into the diner.
Rod Serling, script for The Twilight Zone, Episode 101: 'Where is Everybody?'.

The description of the setting and Mike Ferris defers several pieces of information, such as:

Where everybody is (A question that becomes eerier as the episode unfolds and there is nobody in the diner or a nearby town Mike walks to)

Where Mike got the dollar bills (and why he is glad he has them)

Why Mike seems tentative, puzzled, and indecisive

Suspense takes signs and symbols - a pocketful of dollars, an empty diner - and uses them to amplify uncertainty, the possibility that anything could happen.
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Carry over urgent resolutions (create cliffhangers)

You might say cliffhangers are the cheapest trick of all in suspense writing. Ending an episode of Line of Duty or True Detective with an investigator facing down the barrel of a gun, for example.

Even if they annoy audiences sometimes, cliffhanger endings done well keep them returning.

To create suspense, use scene and chapter breaks to hold over pressing questions.

For example, a cliffhanger may make the reader or viewer ask:

1. What now? Such as when agent Leamas's informant is gunned down as he waits for the man at a checkpoint in the opening to John Le Carré's The Spy Who Came in from the Cold (1963).

2. What trouble is brewing? An episode or story segment may end with a character's capture, dismissal, being wrongfully accused, not spotting a crucial detail a camera lingers on (one that promises trouble).

3. What will the answer be? The question in the first half of a cliffhanger may be a proposal and tough choice, an offer with high risks attached, a question whose answer could change everything.

Cliffhangers aren't only devices for mystery, suspense, thrillers. Think of Gandalf falling from the bridge in the battle with the Balrog in The Lord of the Rings, the reader not knowing his fate for sure.

All genres benefit from suspense in balance with their other vital elements.

🗣️ What's one of your favorite suspense-creating cliffhangers of all time? Tell us in the comments below.

Play with non-linear timelines

Many suspense writing examples throw us into an unfolding scene, (in the middle of ongoing action).

Although the timeline of a story should have a start, middle and end, the presentation of said timeline or chronology doesn't have to be in that order.

Non-linear timelines create suspense by, for example, hinting towards a tense situation further down the line which the narrative will catch up with.
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Marquez uses this to brilliant effect in Cien años de soledad ( One Hundred Years of Solitude, 1967), with the opening narration saying, 'Many years later as he faced the firing squad...' about one of the main characters). This resembles Kukafka's literary suspense opening in implying a messy ending for a character right at the start that we will have to wait to find out more about.

It goes back to Marianne Joyce's reminder that in suspense, 'the bad thing hasn't happened yet' - it's what your reader's peeping at through hands covering their eyes.

What suspenseful situation could you lead with, even if it's from a different part of the timeline?

The one thing to remember is to keep relative time clear (for example, using a subheading with the year for each section so your reader can get the overall timeline straight somehow).

Puzzling narration? Fine? Frustratingly confusing narration? Not so much.

Use structured, teasing fragments

Suspense writing is savvy in using every literary device available to the author to create anxious anticipation.

That includes form, section length, where you leave blank space to turn to the next chapter.

Shorter sections create faster pace, too.

A fragment such as a chapter or prologue that is concise is a common suspense ploy. Many books in the top rankings on Amazon for suspense follow a similar format:

1. A short, one- to two-page page prologue that implies a suspenseful situation (such as the narrator being the daughter of a serial killer in Frieda McFadden's The Locked Door).

2. The prologue leaves questions about a bad situation that will happen (or how a character escaped - or did not escape - an unfolding one).

McFadden's suspense novel opening:

Twenty-six years ago today, a man named Aaron Nierling was arrested in his home in Oregon.
Most people knew Nierling as an upstanding citizen. He held a steady job and was a dedicated husband and father - a family man. He had never received a parking ticket in his lifetime. He had certainly never been in trouble with the law.
Frieda McFadden, The Locked Door (2021), p. 5.

McFadden's narrator goes on to detail the grisly crimes Nierling was incarcerated for, before the prologue ends:

He is a narcissist and psychopath, who likely killed at least thirty women without a trace of remorse. He is insane. He is a monster.

He is also my father.
McFadden, p. 6.

Although the writing is a little 'unpleasant scenario by numbers' ( and the Goodreads reviews are polarized but positive on average), this example shows a common way fragmentary, shorter sections (especially prologues) create suspense and stir reader curiosity.

Use dramatic irony

What is dramatic irony?

This is when your reader or viewer knows more than your characters do, thanks to a secondary viewpoint (such as a long shot in film revealing a crucial detail a character missed in a scene).

How is dramatic irony suspenseful? When we are aware of more than a character, there is the suspense of wondering when they'll catch up to us in the information they know. A commentor on a Medium article about Hitchcock uses this effective example:

(Spoiler) In the 1936 film Sabotage, the villain plants a bomb in a package carried by a young boy. The boy doesn't know about the bomb, so all of his actions (e.g. playing with a cute dog on the bus) generate suspense in the way you describe (audience wants to shout out a warning to the boy).
Steven Hale, via Medium, 'How Hitchcock Generates Suspense in His Films', accessed 23rd February 2023.

You can create suspense in all genres through this 'double vision'.

Example of dramatic irony and suspense in a romantic story

For example, in the Oscar-winning love story, Cinema Paradiso, the opening shot is of the main character's mother knitting.

The doorbell rings, and the mother heads downstairs, unaware her wool has caught on her clothing. As she goes to answer the door, the camera remains on her knitting, as it unravels with her movements.

This is an example of how to create suspense (and humor) out of a non-violent scenario. The knitting is not 'life-or-death', but its unravelling is suspenseful because the mother doesn't know what we, the audience, do.

The unfortunate nature of the scenario (hard work being undone with the worker unaware) creates suspense along with tragi-comic pathos.

Milk off-stage character introductions for suspense

Another popular suspense-creating device in writing: Make characters talk about someone offstage, a character who has not yet appeared.

This is especially suspenseful if it is implied that character is feared or unpleasant in some way (like Maris Crane in the sitcom Frasier).

You could call this the 'Mr Kurtz' effect. in Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness (1902), we hear a lot about the corrupted Mr Kurtz (a cruel and violent overseer of a colonial outpost in the former Belgian Congo) before we actually finally meet the power-drunk, dark-sided man.

This narrative ploy keeps us waiting in apprehension - in suspense - for Kurtz's introduction.

Infer the impending unpleasant

The above examples are similar in that they use inferring something unpleasant approaching to create suspense. From hinting towards the atmosphere of suspicion and dislike preceding a fatal poisoning at an English manor house (in Christie's story), to finding out what a girl's life with her serial killer father is like (in McFadden's).

What will yourreader be anxious to find out? What do they hope won't come to pass?

Suspense writing tips from authors and directors

What do pros of suspense writing say about writing suspense or using suspense as a device? What do suspense writing examples from their work teach us? Read examples from Christie, Le Carré, and others.

Dame Agatha Christie on the deceptiveness of appearances

Many of Dame Agatha Christie's best quotes for learning about writing suspense are found in her novels.

For example, this quote from Murder on the Orient Express (1934), one of her most famous detective novels starring her protagonist Poirot, about deceptive appearances:

Hercule Poirot was a moment in replying.
"When he passed me in the restaurant," he said at last, "I had a curious impression. It was as though a wild animal - an animal savage, but savage! you understand - had passed me by."
"And yet he looked altogether the most respectable."
" Précisément! The body - the cage - is everything of the most respectable. But through the bars, the wild animal looks out."
Christie, Murder on the Orient Express (1934), Location 254 to 282 (Kindle version).

The suspense of these character descriptions lies in making the reader remember outward appearance does not necessarily align with the content of a person's character. It casts suspicion on (and creates suspense about) a man who may not be the person he plays in public.

Sir Alfred Hitchcock on suspense versus surprise

Hitchcock, in conversation with French New Wave director Francois Truffaut, uses the example of a bomb planted under a table to illustrate the difference between suspense and surprise:

"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's 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 the bomb is going to explode at one o'clock and there is a clock in the decor. The public can see that it is a quarter to one. In these conditions, the 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 is a bomb beneath you and it is about to explode!"
Hitchcock, Chapter 3 in Hitchcock by Francois Truffaut (1966), p. 73, emphasis added.

The difference is that in surprise as a narrative device versus suspense, there is not the build-up of nervous expectation. Suspense is the expectation of the unexpected. Forewarned is fore-alarmed.
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Patricia Highsmith on creating suspense in atmosphere using six senses

Patricia Highsmith, regarded as one of the great crime writers, wrote a guide to suspense-writing. In Plotting and Writing Suspense Fiction (1966), she gives this sound advice on involving the senses:

A neglect of atmosphere is hardly a snag, but can give a writer a thin-ice feeling as he progresses, without his knowing why. I cannot think of a formula for creating atmosphere, but since atmosphere comes in through any or all of the five senses, or sixth also, one should make use of them. How a house smells, the general color of a room - olive green, musty brown, or cheerful yellow. And sounds - that of a tin can being blown down a street, of an invalid coughing in another room, the mingled smell of medicaments, often dominated by camphor, that is in many old people's rooms. Or on a country estate where nothing seems wrong or threatening, one may feel for no reason that the trees are about to fall inward and demolish the house.
Patricia Highsmith, Plotting and Writing Suspense Fiction (1966), location 1090 (Kindle version).

Highsmith's reference to a sixth sense is interesting, the sense of premonition. This finely-attuned sense - the detective's hunch, dislike, suspicion - plays a big part in the Poirot suspense writing examples above.

Perception as a vehicle of anxious anticipation (such as the apprehension about the trees and the house in Highsmith's suspense example) is crucial in psychological thrillers and other genres' where characters' psyches supply suspense (such as horror).

Suspense writing examples

Read examples of suspenseful writing including suspenseful story openings and suspenseful description that creates stark tone and mood.

Examples of suspenseful story beginnings

I am serving the fifth year of a life sentence for murdering my own child.
Spoiler alert: I didn't do it.
Harlan Coben, I Will Find You (2023).

Tom glanced behind him and saw the man coming out of the Green Cage, heading his way. Tom walked faster. There was no doubt that the man was after him.
Patricia Highsmith, The Talented Mr Ripley (1955).

"State your name for the record, please."
This was how things began: Boston on the cusp of fall, the Sackler Museum robbed of twenty-three pieces of priceless Chinese art.
Grace D. Li, Portrait of a Thief: A Novel (2022).

See how each example implies something bad that has happened or will happen? How each author loads their story's beginning with many unanswered questions.

Examples of suspenseful scene-setting and description

See how description is used to create a sense of psychological unease and anticipation in these examples:

At that exact moment, 6-0-0, the sun climbed over the skyline of oaks, revealing its full summer angry-God self. Its reflection flared across the river towards our house, a long, blaring finger aimed at me through our frail bedroom curtains. Accusing: You have seen. You will be seen.
Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl (2012), p. 3.

He felt safe in the taxi. Safe and warm. The warmth was contraband, smuggled from his bed and hoarded against the wet January night. Safe because unreal: it was his ghost that ranged the London streets and took note of their unhappy pleasure-seekers [...]
John Le Carré, Call for the Dead (1961), p. 3.

Jackson, Mississippi, was a big enough place that if you didn't go to church or work for any of the white families in town, maybe you could hide out, disappear among the crowd. I didn't fit into either one of them categories. I was simply a colored woman who'd killed a white man in Mississippi. It didn't matter that I'd gone to the police about his attack days ago. I needed to get out of town. Fast.
Wanda M. Morris, Anywhere You Run (2022), p. 9.

These suspense writing examples show several suspense hallmarks:

1. Use of setting to contribute psychological suspense: The way the narrator in Gone Girl reframes sun falling on him in bed as an accusation implying a guilty conscience, for example.

2. Opposition between safe inside/unsafe outside: For example, Le Carré's intelligence officer George Smiley contrasting the safety of the taxi with the darkness of the streets and the city's underbelly.

3. Place as a catalyst for urgent action: Wanda M. Morris' description of Jackson, Mississippi quickly turns to why the protagonist must get out of it in a hurry.

🗣️ What's an example of suspenseful writing you love? Share it in the comments.

Get help writing suspense with editorial and community critiques, regular writing craft webinars, story outlining tools and more. Join The Process for all the tools to write a suspense story.

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Suspense Writing: Examples and Devices for Tenser Stories - NN

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Suspense writing examples and devices show there are many ways to create excited or fearful anticipation. Learn how to create suspense.

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Today everyone wants suspense. Writers want suspense in manuscripts they write, agents want suspense in query letters they receive, and readers want suspense in books they buy. In writing industry suspense almost merged with success. It doesn't matter what you write about unless the reader turns the page after the page until there are no more pages to turn.

Suspense drives the reader to dive further into the story. But even though all of us understand how important it is, few of us understand what it is and how to create it. So what is suspense?

What is suspense?

Alfred Hitchcock, one of the greatest storytellers, once said:

"There is a great confusion especially in my particular job between the words mystery and suspense. The two things are absolutely miles apart. Mystery is an intellectual process guessing "who've done it?" But suspense is essentially an emotional process."

I still see this confusion today. A lot of writers think suspense is making the most twisted story, but it's not about the story at all. It's about storytelling. As Alfred said, suspense - is emotions. And emotions come from how you tell a story and not wha t you tell. I like the way Cambridge Dictionary defines suspense:

"A feeling of excitement or anxiety while waiting for something uncertain to happen."

and mystery:

"Something strange or not known that has not yet been explained or understood."

Can you feel the difference?

How to create suspense?

Suspense is about emotions, but what it means for us, writers? What should we do to evoke these emotions in the audience? The answer is yet another quote of Hitchcock:

"You can only get the suspense element going by giving the audience information."

I can make an example from Steven King's books to support this argument. King often writes something like: the sun shined, the day was great, the character happily walked to the store and had no idea, it would be his last day. You know, what's going to happen, so there is no guessing about what, there is guessing about how. Will someone kill the character in the store? How is it going to happen? With a knife? With a gun? With a bat? You feel a tension, and with every stranger described in the passage, you will feel more and more suspense.

I like the way Dan Brown specifies the information you should give to the audience to create suspense:

"Suspense is about making and keeping promises. You say to the reader: keep reading and I'll tell you how or why it's going to happen."

When King writes something like: it would be his last day, he makes a promise he will most likely keep. When I wrote: By the end of this passage, you'll change your writing forever, I made a promise (which I hope I can keep). So by giving information and making promises, you create suspense, and now I'd like to share several useful techniques on doing this.

Make big promises fast

You should make big promises as fast as you can and hold them as long as you can.

Making big promises rises key questions. Their goal is to grab, captivate, and accompany the reader until the end of the story. So they should be clear, simple, and easy to follow.

Some books even have predefined promises. For example, when I wrote about James Bond in Ideas Generation article, I said you know the results of all of his books: Bond gets the girl and deactivates the bomb. These are predefined promises. Ian says: James Bond will get the girl and save the world. Keep reading, and I'll tell you how.

Big promises should be lasting, so try to keep them as late as possible. But be cautious, don't exhaust your reader and make her give up on you.

Use parallel plotlines
A good example is Pulp Fiction movie, where we see several plotlines that are connected later on.
Parallel plotlines can create instant suspense. When you write first chapters from points of views of unknown people you make a promise. These people are somehow connected. This fact is not a question anymore; the questionis how it's going to happen. So guess what? Keep on reading, and I'll tell you how.

Start with urgency or discomfort

Try to start chapters and scenes with a feeling of urgency. If you write how your hero woke up in the morning, made a cup of coffee, read the morning news, and everything seems nice and perfect, there is no tension. If, however, you write that your hero woke up, his alarm didn't work, and now he needs to get into his office in 20 minutes, or he's fired, you have tension. You have a state of urgency now, and the reader guesses: "Why he would be fired? Does he have problems there? Is he a bad employee? Is something important going on there?"

Discomfort can substitute for urgency. If your hero sits on the street and badly wants to drink, the reader guess: "Ok, why doesn't he go and have some drink? How come he is so thrifty?" Well, keep reading, I'll tell you how.

Sometimes you can get the state of urgency by throwing away first two paragraphs of a chapter or a scene. You get the reader into the action right away and make it much more fun to read.

End with cliffhangers

A "cliffhanger" is a climax of tension. It comes from a moment of hero hanging on a cliff, with his hands getting tired and him loosening the grip, and the title "See you next week."

Cliffhanger is an effective way to end a scene or a chapter. It can be an answer to a question, a new question, a twist, or a revelation of a character. When the hero says: "Eureka, I got this!"And the reader needs to read a new chapter to find out what she got; the reader needs to invest more in your story. You can even make it more suspenseful and shift point of view in the next chapter. King does itsometimes. On the one hand, it's more powerful, on the other hand, it's dangerous and can irritate the reader.

A good way to make sure you end with a cliffhanger - end earlier. We talked about dropping two first paragraphs to start with urgency; you can drop two last paragraphs to end up with a cliffhanger.

Withhold information

Withholding is another effective technique that can be used anywhere in a chapter. A reaction is one of the best ways of doing it. For example, your hero finds something, a document or a photo, and she's terrified, amazed, or happy. You, as a writer, show her reaction, but not the photo or the document instead. You withhold this information, you only emphasize the importance and the context of the information.

Another good option of withholding is when you give your character what she needed, but you don't give her an opportunity to use it. For example, the hero gets the desired password to a computer with secret information, but the guards are coming, and she has to leave. Or she just got an important mail, envelope, but the bad guys were waiting for it, and now there is a chase and no time to read the mail.

Withholding should be done with care, mostly because reasons for withholding should be believable. If your hero got an important mail and decided: "I'm going to take a bath first," the reader would think what the hell is going on?

Put secrets in characters lives

Another great way to make big promises is flashbacks. Dan Brown in his master class told a great story about his experience with "Breaking Bad" series. A friend of his told him that he would like the series. Dan asked what the series were about. When he heard it was about drugs, he refused. Friend asked him to watch just the first season. Dan refused. His friend asked him to watch the first episode. Dan refused. His friend asked him to watch the first three minutes. Dan agreed and found himself a week later watching season 5 finale. That happened because the authors used flashback amazingly well to make a big promise: "Keep watching, and we will tell you how a humble chemistry teacher became a tough drug dealer."

Putting secrets into characters lives can be a powerful tool, especially when you show the difference between whom a character was and whom he became.

Use short pulses

Sometimes using short reminders can be very effective. Usually, you would like to remind the reader about two things - the high stakes and the impending danger. Dan Brown's quote can explain pulses in a beautiful way:

"Oh yeah, and don't forget the killer just entered the house."

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Today everyone wants suspense. Writers want suspense in manuscripts they write, agents want suspense in query letters they receive, and readers want suspense in books they buy. In writing industry...

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Other Historical Subjects for War Heroes and for Bravery: Gino Bartali 

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Other Historical Subjects for War Heroes and for Bravery: Gino Bartali 

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Gino Bartali, a Tour de France winner, who took a stand against Nazism, against "a war without reason, without honor", to help more than 800 during the war. He kept quiet about his war efforts, with the belief that "heroes are those who have suffered. I am just a cyclist." (See his granddaughter's note as well as Author's note).

"Some medals are pinned to your soul, not your jacket."

This resource could also be used to help students to consolidate their understanding of bravery.

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Bartali's Bicycle: The True Story of Gino Bartali

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This is the second of five articles on what I consider to be the essentials of successful storytelling - for popular fiction, at least. The essentials are external conflict, inner conflict, compelling characters and sustained suspense. The other articles are:

According to top New York literary agent Noah Lukeman ( The Plot Thickens), if a writer can maintain suspense throughout the story, many readers will keep reading even if the characters are undeveloped and the plot is weak. Clearly, suspense is a vital tool, yet most books on writing only mention it in passing and few devote much space to its creation and development.

I've written 30 novels, and some of them have been rather successful, but Lukeman's observation came as a revelation. Accordingly, I've scoured my writing notes for the past quarter century, and the books and articles I've read on storytelling, in order to compile a comprehensive list of ways to create suspense. Here it is. My sources are listed at the end.

Story

At its simplest, a story consists of a character (the protagonist or hero) who wants something badly, and an adversary (the obstacle) who is trying equally hard to prevent the hero from getting what he wants. In each scene, the hero attacks his problem in a new way, the adversary fights back and the hero either fails or his initial success leads to a bigger problem.

Readers read to lose themselves in the story and, hopefully, to become the hero through identification (see Cleaver, Immediate Fiction). But before readers can identify with a character, he has to reveal his true inner self. Character is revealed most clearly through adversity and conflict, when the hero is desperate and has to give everything he has. When he's forced to the limit, the reader will identify strongly with the hero. The reader's hope that the hero will succeed, and fear that he will fail, creates rising suspense until the climax, where the hero's goal or problem is resolved.

Basics

Suspense arises out of your readers' anticipation of, and worry and fear about, what's going to happen next. You create suspense by making your readers fear the worst for a character they care deeply about.

Start with action; explain it later (Garfield). "To encourage the reader to turn to page 2, give him drama on page 1 - conflict, trouble, fear, violence." Necessary background can be established in Chapter 2.

To build suspense, make your readers worry about all the ways your hero's plans could go wrong (see Klems). When readers say that your story starts slowly, or that not much is happening, they're not (as a rule) talking about the action. They mean that you haven't promised them bad things to come. So, instead of asking yourself What needs to happen? ask, What can I promise will go wrong? And make sure that the disasters are ones the reader can identify with. Make them emotionally wrenching; problems that could drive your hero to the limit - or even break him.

Following Brown, I've grouped the suspense creation tools into these categories:

For simplicity I refer to 'the character' or 'the hero', though many stories will have a number of viewpoint characters and more than one hero or heroine.

A. Characters
To create powerful suspense, make your hero face her greatest fear - and risk losing the thing that matters most to her.
For maximum suspense, you should not use any old character. Readers are only going to worry about, and identify with, characters they care about - ones who are both sympathetic and interesting.

Sympathetic characters are (after Brown):

In trouble, or suffering in some way;

Underdogs. It's difficult to empathise with a hero who is strong, powerful and has everything going for him, but everyone cheers when the underdog wins;

Vulnerable, i.e. they can be killed, trapped, enslaved, destroyed politically or professionally, or ruined financially or socially. Vulnerability can come from the character's own physical, mental or emotional shortcomings and conflicts as well as from the machinations of the adversary; and

Deserving because of their positive character traits (optimism, courage, steadfastness, selflessness, compassion etc). A character can be in trouble, an underdog and vulnerable, but if he's also lazy, selfish or a whining liar readers won't identify with him or care what happens to him, and his troubles will create little suspense. This doesn't mean the character can't be a villain. If he's acting for the best of reasons and the good outweighs the bad, readers will identify with him.

Characters are likely to be interesting if (see Brown for a detailed analysis) they're important, unusual or extraordinary. One reason we love to read about such characters is wish-fulfilment - living our lives through the story, feeling the characters' hopes and fears, and being awed by their achievements. Characters may be more interesting if they're:

Your characters should also be as different as possible, since they will often be working together. Having highly contrasting characters maintains reader interest, multiplies the potential for conflict with the hero and will suggest many new subplot possibilities.

To build suspense through your characters:

They must have goals that really matter to them.

Make clear, early on:

What she wants;

Why she wants it so desperately. Make her motivation primal, i.e., about things that matter to every human being - survival, protection of loved ones, hunger, love, sex, revenge, etc (Snyder);

What's stopping her from getting it, and;

What the (bad) consequences will be if she fails.

A strong hero needs a strong opponent. The opponent isn't necessarily a villain. It can be a good person who strongly disagrees with the hero, a force of nature (flood, forest fire, epidemic), a beast or alien, or an uncaring society. The opponent:

Tailor your characters to maximise suspense (for details, see Lukeman and the other refs):

Take away the hero's ability to defend herself (or others) and you create intense suspense:

Use rapidly changing emotions to build suspense. By showing the hero's emotions (her hopes, fears, worries and conflicts) changing rapidly in response to some threat or confrontation you can build suspense to a crescendo that will bring your readers to the edge of their seats, eg:

Create anticipation and expectation.

The more your hero dwells on or worries about some forthcoming event (good or bad) the more suspenseful it will be when the event is about to occur - a shy girl fretting about her wedding night; a young recruit marching to battle, sick with fear;

Have the hero make a complicated plan and be rashly confident that it will succeed. This will worry your readers because they know it's going to go wrong;

Build up the hero's anticipation (of winning the contest, gaining the prize, getting the girl) into expectation. Then, when he fails, the blow will be bitter. He hasn't been beaten by the failure, but by his defeated expectation;

Build tension through other characters' expectations of the hero. If they expect more from him than he can possibly provide, the stress will rise for them, for him and for your readers.

Employ romantic and sexual tension. For variety or to further the plot, action-related suspense can be alternated with suspense arising from romantic or sexual tension between characters. Heighten suspense by:

Creating barriers to the relationship - love between enemies, between a human and an alien, a lover with a dark past or terrible secret;

Or by using obstacles to keep the lovers apart.

Use micro-tension - the moment-by-moment tension that keeps readers in suspense over what'll happen in the next minute. (See Don Maass's terrific book The Fire in Fiction for details). Micro-tension comes from the 'emotional friction' between characters as they try to defeat each other. The characters aren't necessarily enemies, though. There should be tension between any two characters, whether they are opponents, servants, friends, allies or lovers. There should also be tension within the character due to inner conflicts.

In dialogue, show: the hero's doubt or disbelief about what the other character is saying; the disagreement about goals or plans; the disdain, dislike, contempt or concealed hatred; the power struggles, and ego and personality clashes; bring out inner conflicts in what each character says and does;

Often action can be lacking in tension because we've seen it a thousand times before - there are only so many ways two people can have a sword fight. To make action suspenseful, get inside the head of the hero to show his conflicting feelings and emotions during the struggle. Then, break the action cliché by showing subtle visual details that give the reader a clear and vivid picture of this particular scene rather than any generic action scene;

Use similar techniques when writing sex or violence. Show the key moments with a handful of striking visual images. Bring out the hero's conflicting feelings and emotions at each moment, focusing on subtle emotions rather than the obvious ones such as (in sex scenes) passion, lust or tenderness;

When the character is thinking or emoting, create suspense by (a) cutting restated thoughts, feelings & emotions and (b) making thoughts and emotions realistic. For instance, the hero may be outwardly happy, but is concealing or fighting some niggling worry. Or struggling with an inner conflict (justice versus vengeance, duty to an bad leader vs personal honour);

In descriptive passages and quiet moments, show little details that make the setting vividly real and establish the mood of the place. Describe the hero's conflicting feelings and emotions, focusing on subtle emotions rather than obvious ones.

B. Problem

The story begins when your character confronts a problem she has to solve, or forms a goal she's determined to achieve. Problems can be of three kinds: a danger, a want or lack, or a puzzle or mystery. Dangers and lacks arouse suspense because the reader hopes the character will solve her problem, yet fears the consequences if she fails. Puzzles and mysteries create suspense through curiosity - the reader wants to know the answer.

Put your characters (or their friends or allies) in danger (for details see the references, especially Brown, Lyon and Lukeman).

Give your character a want or lack that she's desperate to fulfil.

1. Pose a mystery or puzzle. In some kinds of stories, particularly crime and mystery, suspense mainly comes from the puzzle the author has set, and readers' curiosity about how the hero will solve it and what the answer is (see (26 and (27)).

2. Force the hero to face the problem. Either:

Raise the stakes. Readers won't be involved with the story until they know what the stakes are for your hero. Initially, the stakes were established when your hero formed her story goal. To heighten suspense, progressively raise the stakes through the story. You can either raise the prize for succeeding, or raise the price of failure - or, preferably, both at the same time.

These consequences can either apply to the hero, to people he cares for, or those he has a duty to (eg a doctor looking after a critically ill patient);

Remember that both the prize and the price are relative - if the emperor wins or loses a skirmish it may be trivial, whereas winning or losing his first battle will change the life of a young lieutenant.

Make the problem more difficult to solve.

Increase the likelihood that the character will lose, then show what the specific personal consequences will be;

Threats to the viewpoint character and his friends and family will arouse far more reader anxiety, and create more suspense, than problems facing people he doesn't know, or people in another province or country.

Break reader expectations.

Readers are constantly guessing what's going to happen next, based on stories they've read before, but if they know what's going to happen, suspense dies;

Analyse the hero's problem and come up with unusual twists and reversals, new problems and difficult conflicts that will confound reader expectations of what's going to happen.

C. Plot

Plot is made up of the hero's successive actions get what he wants (i.e. to solve the story problem) and the opponent's corresponding actions to stop him. To build suspense to an explosive pitch at the climax of the story, each new action by the hero needs to be blocked by his opponent, and either fails or leads to an even bigger problem - until the climactic scene where the story problem is finally resolved one way or another.

Make the story problem clear. A surprising number of manuscripts fail to set out either:

The real story doesn't begin until the hero formulates a goal and takes action to get it (see Cleaver, Immediate Fiction). Until this happens there can be little suspense or story interest, so make the hero's goal clear as early as possible.

Put the hero at a disadvantage. Examples:

Increase the pressure in unpredictable ways (for details, see the references, especially Lyon):

Test the hero's abilities to breaking point. Take away her friends and supporters, undermine her assets and any options she's relying on, block her escape routes, cut the deadline in half, devalue her strongest beliefs or the things she most cares about. Anything that can go wrong, should go wrong - not just for her, but for everyone;

Give her more simultaneous problems than anyone can handle, so she makes damaging mistakes. Distract her with an unexpected sexual attraction. Have disagreements escalate out of control. Give her an impossible dilemma that will trouble her for ages.;

Thwart her at every turn. If she's relying on aid, information or some object or talisman, have it fail to appear, or be stolen, lost or destroyed when it's almost within her grasp. If she has a vital talent or skill, rob her of the ability to use it when she needs it most;

Arouse suspicion about some of her friends or allies, or use dramatic irony (see (23), below) to make readers suspect them even if the hero does not. Have a trusted ally betray her, desert her or go over to the enemy;

Foreshadow her fate or peril, to the audience and other characters even if not to herself. Use mysterious documents or eerie settings or symbols to create uneasiness, or show that things are not as they seem;

Have the hero do something dumb that brings readers to the edge of their seats, because they know it's going to turn out badly;

Have the antagonist do something terrible that is really going to hurt the hero;

Make something seem out of place in its surroundings - worryingly so;

Have an important character act in a way that is disturbingly out of character;

Withhold information from your hero, so he doesn't see that he's being lured into the trap. But your readers know it's there;

Have other characters withhold vital information from the hero, or refuse to divulge what he needs to know. Why? Whose side are they on, and what are their hidden motives?

Put a great distance between the hero and her goal. How will she ever get there?

Have the hero lose contact with her mentor; injure the hero; use forces of nature (weather, fire, flood, difficult terrain) to block her;

Plant red herrings. Have the hero jump to false conclusions that lead her in the wrong direction or to make disastrous blunders, or to fall into a trap. Have failures caused by misunderstandings or poor communication;

Set the action within some greater conflict (cultural renaissance, political drama, social upheaval, war, religious persecution) or tailor social institutions to make everything more difficult (paranoid government, martial law, police state, secret society);

Create an emotional time bomb (something vitally important to the hero) then, at some critical time, have it destroyed or lost;

Lull the hero (and readers) into a false sense of security by having things go too well for a scene or two, then create a disaster;

Show the hero thinking over past events and seeing something she missed that's worrying or ominous. Or, when it's too late, coming to a dreadful realisation.

Create conflict with everyone and everything.

Create inner conflicts and dilemmas.

Use dramatic irony (i.e., your readers know something vital that the characters aren't aware of), such as Hitchcock's famous bomb under the table - when will it go off:

Use the unknown to create anxiety.

26. Put your hero in a perilous place. Analyse your scene settings and work out how you can change them to heighten tension:

Create mysteries. As noted above, mysteries and puzzles create suspense both because the hero has to work them out and because the reader wants to know the answer.

Design puzzles. These can either be intellectual or physical:

Intellectual - riddles, conundrums, paradoxes, illusions etc;

Physical - how do I get in or out? Locked room mysteries. Puzzles requiring dexterity.

Leave issues and crises unresolved (especially at chapter or scene endings) and tension will rise because readers long for the resolution. Uncertainty and anticipation are interlinked and create suspense:

Use reversals. Reversals of the expected are used to break expectations, clichés and repetition.

Secrets. The existence of a secret creates suspense because readers want to know the answer:

Rarely, a big secret can form the suspense backbone for a whole novel, such as: Who was the traitor? What happened to the money? The secret has to be developed throughout the story by drip-feeding clues that heighten the secret rather than revealing it;

Smaller secrets can be used to heighten suspense within scenes, eg the Hogwarts letter withheld from Harry Potter in the first book of the series, and the mysterious event (the Triwizard Tournament) which people keep alluding to early in the fourth book.

Use subtext (see Lyon for details). Subtext is 'everything hidden from the awareness or observation of non-viewpoint characters'. Subtext based on rising tension will create suspense. Some sources are:

Turn a dramatic event into a question. Beware of having the event completely answer a question or resolve a problem, as this undercuts suspense. Instead, have the event raise more questions, which draws out the suspense:

There's no problem so bad that you can't make it worse, and you should take every opportunity to do so. But why would you want to?

Because character is revealed not in good times but in adversity. The worse you can make it for the hero, the more his true character will be revealed by what he does, the more the reader will worry about him and the greater the suspense.

D. Structure

Readers read to identify with the characters and live their stories, suffering the ordeals the characters go through, worrying about them and dreading that they'll fail to achieve their goals, yet hoping and praying that they'll succeed. At the end, readers want to see the characters resolve their problems, and long for that tidal wave of relief when all the dramatic tension and suspense built up through the story is finally released. To build suspense, the novel needs careful structuring to:

Structure the beginning to create suspense (see Brown for details):

Create a hero who is both sympathetic and interesting (see (1) and (2) above);

Set out the story problem (i.e. the hero's goal) clearly, and why he must pursue this goal;

Reveal the obstacle (the adversary or force that's trying to prevent the hero from achieving his goal);

Twist both the characters and the goal to break stereotypes, freshen the story and surprise the reader.

Tailor the hero's actions to heighten suspense: In each scene, the hero faces some problem related to her goal. The actions she takes to solve the problem should either:

Vary the hero's fortunes to maintain and heighten suspense throughout the story.

If every scene runs at fever pitch and ends disastrously, the law of diminishing returns sets in - the reader becomes desensitised to the drama, and suspense dies;

Instead, alternate tense action or drama scenes with calmer ones, and end a few scenes with the hero succeeding, and with moments of peace, happiness or hope. Variety in endings maintains suspense because the reader knows the success is only temporary; the opponent will never give up trying to defeat the hero;

Let your hero think he's won - then tear victory from his grasp and turn it into absolute, crushing defeat;

To heighten suspense, make the hero's failures progressively worse, and his dark moments bleaker, towards the climax.

Sequence the antagonist's reactions to progressively heighten the hero's troubles.

Look at each scene from the antagonist's point of view and ask how he can make things worse for the hero. What action will cause the hero the most trouble, and what's the worst time it can occur?

To heighten suspense, make these troubles progressively worse towards the climax, until it seems impossible that the hero can win.

Heighten critical scenes. Identify the key events in the story (those moments of intense drama that are also turning points) because they need to be carefully set up and treated differently (see Lyon). Key events can be positive (love scenes, celebrations at war's end, the award of prizes or honours) or crises (murders, defeat in battle, guilty verdicts, terrible realisations). Build suspense by:

Foreshadowing the coming event to raise worrying questions and create reader anticipation. This can be done via characters thinking about or debating the possibility (eg of war), and making plans and preparations for the worst, as well as by omens, foretellings, signs and symbols. Repeat this worrying sign several times, then make sure it's paid off at the climax;

Writing a small scene or moment which hints at the coming critical scene (a burning house hints at the violence and ruin of war); a shouting match foreshadows the murder to come;

Then a reversal - a moment that's the opposite of the coming critical scene. Eg, in a trial, the overconfident defence lawyer has a lavish lunch with friends before returning to hear a shattering guilty verdict; immediately before the joyous wedding, the couple have a furious argument; the soldier relaxes with his family before going to bloody war. This contrast makes the critical scene far more powerful;

Show the setting where the climax will take place before the climax begins, so you don't have to stall the story with description at the climax (Klems);

In the critical scene, use all the dramatic techniques at your disposal to raise the scene to a higher peak of suspense than anything that has gone before:

Heighten the sense of menace in everyday objects by focusing on sensory detail (Klems)

Isolate your hero, rob him of his weapons, his allies and his means of escape, or injure him;

Insert one or two pauses - eg the cry of a night-bird, or something that seems menacing turns out to be everyday - that allow the reader to relax momentarily. This makes the real confrontation much more powerful, when it finally comes;

Make the stakes more personal: it's not just his country that's in mortal danger - it's his little sister.

Run the peak of the scene in slow motion to prolong the hero's agony. From her viewpoint, show every step of the killer's approach as he breaks in and forces his way down to the cellar where she's hiding. Show it through all her senses. You can slow it down further by using long, complex sentences, camera close-ups, quietness, stillness and darkness;

Alternatively, or additionally, get inside your hero's head as she waits to show her heightened emotions in this desperate moment: make her hyper-aware; show how she experiences the scene in detail - the sweat running down her face, the ticking clock, the shake in her hand, the chills - and expose her terror as she anticipates what the killer is going to do to her;

See my article, How to Show Inner Conflict and Intense Emotion on the Page.

Afterwards, make sure the hero emotes about all that has happened, reviews how the event has made his problems worse, and reformulates his plans.

Climax, Resolution and Endings.

Vary your scene endings to maximise suspense. Some scenes should end at moments of high drama, many with unanswered questions, several with shocking twists, a few with emotional completion, and some with no more than a wry observation or pithy phrase.

The climax of the story, where the greatest obstacle is overcome and the hero's story problem is finally resolved one way or another, is the biggest of all the critical scenes and must coincide with the highest point of tension and suspense.

If the greatest tension occurs in a scene before the climax, the ending of the story will be anticlimactic and the reader will feel let down.

If the story's resolution is weak, contrived, over too quickly or in any other way fails to match the build-up of suspense to the climax, readers will be bitterly disappointed;

In most novels, all the key questions will be answered by the end, and the resolution provides a sense of completion plus the blissful release from suspense that readers are waiting for. Some stories may end with a dilemma, however - the main story has been resolved but there's still a question raised in the reader's mind about what choice the hero will make.

Stories which are part of a series should resolve most of the story questions at the end, but the overarching series question (eg will Harry Potter defeat Lord Voldemort) remains and creates ongoing suspense until the series ends.

Review the story scene by scene, rate each scene out of 10 for its level of suspense, then plot the sequence of suspense ratings. Ideally the graph should be a zigzagging line rising progressively to the climax of the story, then falling away in the resolution.

Does the story have flat periods with little suspense? Insufficient breaks from high suspense? The highest suspense occurring before the climax? Suspenseful moments that are too quickly resolved? Critical scenes where the suspense is too low, too brief or too similar to other scenes? A powerful climax ruined by a weak resolution? Work out how to fix these problems.

Common scene problems that lower suspense include: lack of a clear goal for the scene; stakes too low; lack of an obstacle or weak obstacle; too little conflict; too much thought or talk and not enough action; too much action and not enough thought, emotion or reflection; no twist or disaster at the end (see Lyon for a detailed analysis).

Analyse your characters (see (2) above). Can you modify or change certain character traits to vary the kinds of suspense in the story, and to heighten it in key scenes?

References

Bell, James Scott (2004). Plot and Structure. Writer's Digest. Probably the best book on the topic of plot and structure.

Bell, James Scott (2008). Revision and Self-Editing. Writer's Digest. Also a great book; a wealth of practical info and examples.

John D Brown (2011). Key Conditions for Reader Suspense (27-part article). Key Conditions for Suspense. An excellent series of articles.

Cleaver, Jerry (2002). Immediate Fiction. St Martin's Griffin. No one has ever explained the craft of storytelling more clearly or simply.

Garfield, Brian, Ten Rules for Thriller Writers. http://visage.bravepages.com/suspense.html

Kress, Nancy (2005). Characters, Emotion and Viewpoint. Writer's Digest. Excellent book on these topics.

Lukeman, Noah (2002). The Plot Thickens. St Martin's Griffin, New York. Terrific chapters on characterisation, suspense and conflict, a lot of stuff I've never thought of before.

Lyon, Elizabeth (2008). Manuscript Makeover, Revision Techniques no Fiction Writer can Afford to Ignore. Perigee Trade. In my view, the best book on revision and self-editing.

Maass, Donald (2009). The Fire in Fiction. Writer's Digest. He identifies the problems his agency sees over and over again in manuscripts and tells you how to fix them. A fantastic book.

Pattison, Darcy. Suspense: 10 Tips to Grabbing Your Reader!

Snyder, Blake (2005). Save the Cat - the Last Book on Screenwriting That You'll Ever Need. Michael Wise Productions.

Truby, John (2007). The Anatomy of Story - 22 Steps to Becoming a Master Storyteller. Faber and Faber. A fascinating and insightful book.

Vorhaus, John (1994). The Comic Toolbox. Silman James Press. Not just the best book on comic writing, but better than all the others put together.

Klems, 5 Ways to Make Your Novel More Suspenseful

Also, 6 Secrets to Creating and Sustaining Suspense

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This is the second of five articles on what I consider to be the essentials of successful storytelling - for popular fiction, at least. The essentials are external conflict, inner conflict, compelling characters and sustained suspense.