July's PYA Writers' Support Group - THEME: Suspense
Helen highlighted some tips and then we each took ten minutes to write a short piece using the lessons we'd learnt, plus our own experience.
First, Helen's tips:
- Suspense is needed in all writing (of course), it's the level of suspense that is determined by the genre of the piece.
- It's about keeping the reader on edge, waiting for something to happen, uncertain what, why and when.
- To create suspense - withhold something.
- Long suspense:
- Part of a major story arc.
- Stakes revisited.
- Cliffhangers are essential.
- Short term suspense:
- Almost at the paragraph level.
- Scatter clues and red herrings, like in a detective novel.
- In horror - create traps.
- Make character conflict part of the plot.
- Pique curiosity in the reader - don't tell everything, create anxiety.
- Explain what is happening but don't explain why it's happening.
- Place the protagonist in angst.
- Propose something - a fact - but don't give the answer.
- Make foreshadowing part of the story - drip feed clues, red herrings, etc to divert attention.
And here's a story written for the session in the ten minutes allocated. Don't expect it to be perfect but it uses the lessons from the session and s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-s what we write.
Anton placed his mobile back in his pocket and glanced around. Something troubled him; silence, like a void, uncanny, unusual. Penny, his partner,had told him that Josh, their three year old, was having troubled nights, waking screaming from a nightmare, asking about his daddy - was he alright?
The path through the forest was dark, Scotch Pines lining the track, soft with their needles.
Click.
Anton glanced over his shoulder at the source of the sound, amplified by the stillness. Nothing. He glanced at his watch: 12:35, he'd been walking for forty minutes, another twenty before he left the forest behind and the factory would be in sight - safety.
Anton snatched his weapon from the backpack and closed his visor, activating the enhanced vision that permitted him to peer further into the gloom. He turned, facing the way he'd travelled. No birds. No insects. No sounds. Nothing, or so it appeared.
'I'm losing my grip,' he thought.
Turning, Anton marched on, silence following in his wake.
