Bonus
points if you know when Batman blackmailed someone with that title line. Yeah, Batman.
Hiding a bomb somewhere in Gotham to stop his opponent.
Anyway...
on a related note.
The late,
great Alfred Hitchcock had a famous example about suspense that you’ve
probably heard before. To paraphrase,
suspense is when two people are having breakfast and they don’t know there’s a
bomb under the table. If the bomb goes
off, it’s a shock, absolutely, but the longer they sit there and the bomb doesn’t
go off... well, the tension’s going up a few notches every minute.
Now there’s
a few conditions that have to be met for this to work. It doesn’t matter if I'm writing a short story, a novel, or a screenplay. Suspense needs certain elements to be
effective.
First
off is that there has to be a real threat.
A can of whipped cream under the table just doesn’t equate to four
pounds of plastique. Neither does four pounds of liquid negathilium with a dynochrome timer, because none of us
have the slightest clue what that is (for all we know it might be tastier than the
whipped cream). The bomb under the table
has to be something the readers immediately understand is a horrible thing.
Second,
the reader or audience needs to know about the threat, even though the
character doesn’t. We have to be
cringing every time they bang a glass on the table or pound their fist for
emphasis. If one of them is checking
their watch, it should make us tremble every time we see those hands tick
forward another minute.
Third
is that the characters need to be smart enough to recognize that threat—if
they knew about it. This is where it
gets tricky, because this requirement has to be carefully balanced with the
first two.
Let me toss
out a trio of quick examples. Names have
been changed to protect the innocent.
A while
back I watched a movie where the main character’s friend was... well,
psycho. Not quietly, in-the-background
psycho, mind you. She was
brutally-kill-your-pet, attack-and-mutilate your next best-friend,
constantly-check-up-on-you, stare-at-you-longingly while you sleep psycho. There were so many warning signs
that she was unstable. How could
everyone not catch all those pointed glances and wild eyes and trembling hands.
My lovely
lady was reading a script a while back where a naive country boy moved to
Manhattan and was taken advantage of again and again. And again.
And then one more time after that.
And every time it was made painfully obvious that the woman/ man/
indeterminate the main character was dealing with was screwing him over. It was like reading a cartoon script where
nobody recognizes Snidely Whiplash as the villain, even with his black cape, twirling
mustache, and bad habit of ending every sentence with an evil cackle.
Finally,
there was a fairly popular sci-fi prequel this summer. It featured, in one scene, a hissing alien
which seemed to be a cross between an cobra, a python, and a gigantic, albino
leech. One of the human characters, you
may remember, kept trying to pat it on the head.
In each of
these cases, the writers were so desperate to meet one or both of the first two
requirements (establishing the threat and letting the reader know about that
threat) that the third requirement suffered for it. This is a recurring mistake I see when people
try to create suspense. My characters
aren’t supposed to know about the bomb (to keep using our main example), so
they just don’t see it. No matter how
much evidence there is that a high explosive device has been activated under
the breakfast table, no one reacts.
Because if they reacted, there wouldn’t be any suspense. So the attempt to create tension just creates
a ridiculous blind spot instead.
Y’see,
Timmy, there’s a corollary lesson to be learned here. If there’s a bomb under the table and my
characters don’t know it, that could be considered suspense, yes.
However, if
the bomb has a bright red flasher, ticks louder than Big Ben, and the
characters still don’t know about it, that isn’t suspense.
It just
means my characters are idiots.
And it’s
tough for any of us to relate to characters who are idiots. I’ve mentioned a few times now that
my characters should always be as smart as my audience. If they’re not, everyone’s just going to get
frustrated. So when I’m building
suspense and tension, I have to make sure it’s in a way that makes my
characters look smart while still informing my readers.
No, it
isn’t easy. If it was, everybody would
be doing it.
Next time,
I want to talk about triangles. They’re
dangerous, pointy things.
Until then,
go write.
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