A dream of your making

Natural forces will halt any progress eventually. In literature, it is up to the author to keep the story interesting, and thus counteract that which would bring it to a grinding halt. Just as in a romantic relationship, when the eyes start to wander, the desire is lost.

A good tale will seduce the reader, encouraging them to indulge in every word. As a work progresses, the excitement should build.  Or at least the interest should deepen. Either way, the reader becomes engrossed in the proceedings.

There are many ways to build momentum in a story: flesh out the characters, expand their world, add a little mystery, or sharpen the terror. All of these things come down to increasing interest. Once the story becomes predictable, the reader will predictably seek out more bountiful fields.

The author has the advantage of holding all the cards. They know what is behind the locked door. A character’s hidden agenda is clearly seen to them. But the trick is in the sleight of hand, drawing the attention away from what you are really doing.

And thus, the tension builds; since the reader has no idea what will happen. As they continue along, more secrets are revealed.  One must be attentive, or a significant detail will go unnoticed.

Now you have them where you want them. They are trapped in a dream of your making. Though they could turn around and go home at any time, they step forward into the unknown; fully expecting the way to be perilous. For the destination beckons, with a promise of wishes granted and desires fulfilled.

The persistence of hope

They say it is always darkest before the dawn. No matter how bleak things look, people cling to a faint hope they will get better. Writers test the limits of despair, but there should always be the possibility of a light at the end of the tunnel.

In the case of darker works, this light may be ephemeral. But the chance must be there for the girl to escape the knife-wielding psycho. Even if there is no way out, the audience must think there is. Only then, can the true fear take root.

Once the slaughter becomes monotonous, the most desperate victim will throw up their hands and submit to the axe. It is the persistence of hope gnawing away at the reader, which will ensure the terror is maintained until the final cut. The true moment of fright is not when the killer has someone in his clutches, but just before the grasping hand snatches its prize.

With other types of stories, hope also plays an invaluable role. In drama, a tragedy will typically engender sympathies and a desire for the suffering to have some sort of end. Readers can be sadistic though, and often demand a great deal of pain before their emotional limit is reached.

The more you like the characters, the stronger your yearnings will be for their eventual happiness. Hope approaches unawares, and readers weep for those they have come to hold dear. At that point, a nudge in any direction will have a profound effect on the emotions.

Stories are a journey into the unknown. A satisfying ending is not always a happy one. But there must be hope: lurking in a corner somewhere, perhaps just out of reach as the trembling victim hides behind a flimsy door. 

Taking the audience for a ride

Though writing is all about the conveying of emotion, there is a fine line before you fall off the precipice into melodrama. There is nothing mellow about it: the intensification of sentiment becomes overbearing and the warmth turns into a searing rage at the audacity of the author. One can only pull the heartstrings so far before they snap, and anything in the way is cut to pieces.

Drama is intense by its nature, often dealing with a character’s inner conflict and how it begins to affect others. In literature, drama is very much an elastic thing and you can stretch it quite far. But this only makes the backlash that much worse when it reaches the breaking point.

Readers love a tragedy, even when it brings them to tears. But the emotional roller coaster must be a well-timed and enjoyable experience. When the sadness becomes oppressive, the most ardent of drama seekers will demand to be let off.

Lovers of literature have a desire to suffer the hardships inherent in the reading of a tale. They want the author to take them on a ride. The ups and downs are all part of the fun. But they don’t want to be run into the ground.

There is that moment of anticipation, when the story begins to unfold. The momentum builds and the reader plummets through all of the twists and turns, leading to the climax. Sometimes they are taken for a loop, but they always want to be right-side up when the car coasts to a stop.

For there comes a time when the ride is over; was it fun or frustrating? Did they lose their inhibitions or just their lunch? Did they scream with excitement, or wail in despair? And the most important question to ask is this: would they want to ride again?   

The patience of a craftsman

A great deal of patience is required for the crafting of a fine tale. Just as in the construction of a building, each layer of a literary work must be carefully fashioned, starting with a strong foundation. If the premise is flimsy, then the entire story will topple from its lofty heights.

The interweaving of plot and character can be a daunting task indeed. The audience must come to know both protagonist and antagonist and understand the forces that are working toward a conclusion. These are delicate matters and must be handled cleanly and smoothly.

There are the obvious elements of plot, and there are the devious subplots swimming about in the murky waters. Add to this the many levels of characterization, and you have a mixture which needs but a little stirring to become a tasty stew. Every now and then, even the writer is surprised by the subtle flavors hiding amongst the brew.

Building takes time, and a great deal of preparation. A firm foundation needs sturdy walls and a solid roof to become a suitable habitation. So, the elements of a story are fastened together in such a way that the gaps are filled and the nails are covered.

And eventually the work stands in all its glory, just waiting for the reader to come make themselves at home in its roomy interior. The genius is in the details and the attentive will discover each one, ever searching for more. They will marvel at the craftsmanship, and speak highly of the humble scribe who took in hand to fashion a house of ideas, reared by desire and reinforced with great care. 

Darkness and light

Stories are strange concoctions, where disparate ingredients are combined to make a satisfying brew. There are opposing forces: good and evil; pleasure and pain; light and dark. In the balance which is essential to a fine tale, one must be careful not to go to extremes.

A story which is too serious tends to be too heavy. That which is too light tends toward frivolity. An enjoyable work will juxtapose the two, carefully weighing one against the other until all is in equilibrium.

Characters must have moments of joy, in order to appreciate the loss when they are suffering. If all is misery, there is nothing to fight for. Such an existence is subsistence and nothing more.

Readers hope the best for the characters they love. They will watch that person descend into darkness, but wish fervently they be not consumed. As events conspire to drive a character to madness, the literary spectator cheers them on to overcome and retain their mental faculties.

Moments of levity inevitably sharpen the eventual times of despair. If you like that person, you will laugh with them and weep for them. And the more contact you have, the deeper your enjoyment will be.

Even the individuals that are not likable can be understood. And thus, it behooves the author not to drown their reader with too much emotional turmoil. You must keep the pressure up, without crushing the enthusiasm.  For it is through excitement and enticement that a reader can be happily drawn into a literary trap. 

Making it real

Reality can be a stumbling-block to many an artistic endeavor. It tends to ground the many flights of fancy the mind is keen to take us on. It limits the spectrum with which we paint such breath-taking landscapes as our imagination provides.  But the real compels like the unreal cannot.

Writing is an exercise of the mind, and ideas flow best when unrestricted. However, these pleasures are for but a season. Fantastic notions, while exhilarating for a time, soon reveal their lack of substance and thus subside.

Conversely, a work that is entirely realistic will fail to inspire, merely reminding one of their dreary existence. It is once more in the balance between the arcane and the mundane that true literary bliss can be found. That which is fanciful is too light, and that which is practicable too heavy. The latter will crush your enthusiasm, while the former will carry you away.

Certain elements of an unreal story can impart a sense of reality to the work. If the characters are real people with genuine feelings, then the reader will see them as natural even in an exotic world. But this suspension of disbelief is such a fragile thing, and can easily be dispelled by the slightest transgression in the portrayal.

A tale is most compelling when people forget they are reading and immerse themselves in the world you have so lovingly fashioned. To achieve such a state requires believable characters, conceivable actions, measurable results and pleasurable outcomes. There is a balance to all things natural. Your audience should never descry a zipper on the monster’s back.

What do you remember?

Repetition is a necessary evil in writing. To mention something once is to ensure that it will be forgotten. Twice gives an echo of the first, but is not usually sufficient for recall. However, to repeat it several times is to run the risk of being redundant.

There is a balance to all things, and the elements of a story must constantly be balanced. Add too much to one side, and the thing will topple over. The progression of a tale is akin to walking a tightrope: don’t lose your balance.

Names must be repeated to be remembered. However, the character’s name need not be plastered on every line they speak. As you build a character in the telling of your story, certain characteristics can be used to identify which person is speaking: hair color, gender, age, etc. If you have two people with the same physical attribute, you must work even harder to make it clear which one you are referring to.

Also, certain details in a story must be repeated to be remembered. A character’s vocation, relations, and deviations are just a few of the things that will be lost amidst your prose without reminders of their importance. To know someone, they must be familiar to you. We come to know individuals over time, through repeated contact.

Subtlety is key, so the repetition needs to be embedded seamlessly into the narrative. Readers do not need to have details shouted at them for such things to be remembered. A friendly reminder every now and then will go a long way toward establishing familiarity without redundancy.