Invisible Tension
By Donald Maass | June 2, 2010 |
This post by agent Donald Maass officially kicks off our month of “best advice” here at WU. Enjoy!
Invisible Tension
Don’t you hate it? Literary authors get to write these beautiful passages that are poison in commercial novels. You know what I mean: those achingly gorgeous paragraphs in which absolutely nothing happens.
What’s worse, sometimes those passages are riveting reading. Makes you sick, doesn’t it? How do they get away with it? Who gave them a free pass? How are they able to indulge in all those pretty words when the rest of us have to keep the action slogging along with dirt-dull prose?
Are the rules different in literary fiction? Do readers have a taste for pretty little icky-gooey passages? Why can’t commercial writers shine? Gunshots are all well and good but can’t we use the occasional metaphor?
Actually, lots of inactive passages in literary fiction fall flat. (So do acres of action in commercial fiction, but that’s a different post.) When a literary novelist pulls one off they are doing something we can’t immediately see.
They are using invisible tension.
A Donald Maass definition: Micro-tension is the moment-by-moment, line-by-line, sometimes simmering-beneath-the-surface tension that keeps the reader in a constant state of apprehension about what will happen–not in the story but in the next few seconds. It’s what makes any book a page turner.
When nothing seems to be happening and we’re reading with close attention then there still is something happening; it’s just under the surface or, to be more precise, inside the point of view character. Call it sub-text. Call it art. Whatever you name it, it’s based in conflicting or contrasting emotions. Even when “invisible” they’re still there.
Here’s a random excerpt from the middle of Pulitzer Prize winner Michael Cunningham’s novel The Hours, which is the intertwined stories of three women in contemporary New York, 1950’s New York and….well, Virginia Wolf. Here Virginia pauses before entering a social gathering. She’s been thinking about the suicide of Clarissa Dalloway in a novel she’s writing:
On the steps of Hogarth House, she pauses to remember herself. She has learned over the years that sanity involves a certain measure of impersonation, not simply for the benefit of husband and servants for the sake, first and foremost, of one’s own convictions.
Is he kidding? She pauses to remember herself? Sanity involves a certain measure of impersonation? Not only is this written in present tense but nothing the heck is happening. They give the Pulitzer to this kind of stuff?
Hold on. Take another look. What is Virginia Woolf feeling? Cunningham doesn’t say directly but underneath she’s feeling fragile, like an imposter, afraid of the insanity inside her. She’s trying to hold it together. Perhaps she will. Then again, perhaps she won’t.
What’s holding our attention here isn’t the prose on the surface but the emotions underneath. That’s how those literary novelists are getting away with it. So, how can you do that too?
Try this: In your current manuscript, pick a moment when your protagonist is at rest, has nothing to do, or is waiting. Where’s this happening? Write down some less obvious details of place and time. Next, jot down your protagonist’s principle feeling at this moment…then also a simultaneous feeling that conflicts or contrasts.
If you want to, throw in a measure of how your protagonist understands himself or herself right now…then whatever throws doubt on that self-assessment. Okay. Now craft a passage in which you capture this moment in time. The substance is the sensory details but the subject is your character’s conflicting emotions and uncertainty. Weave them together and see what you get.
How’d it go? Hopefully you’ve created a passage in which nothing is happening—and yet in which everything matters.
Donald Maass is president of the Donald Maass Literary Agency in New York. His agency sells more than 150 novels every year to major publishers in the U.S. and overseas. He’s also the author of several craft books for writers, including the highly acclaimed Writing the Breakout Novel and The Fire in Fiction.
Photo courtesy Flickr’s D’Arcy Norman
Donald Maass (he/him) founded the Donald Maass Literary Agency. in New York in 1980. He is the author of The Career Novelist (1996), Writing the Breakout Novel (2001), Writing the Breakout Novel Workbook (2004), The Fire in Fiction (2009), The Breakout Novelist (2011), Writing 21st Century Fiction (2012) and The Emotional Craft of Fiction (2019). He has presented hundreds of workshops around the world and is a past president of the American Association of Literary Agents (formerly AAR).
Amazing article again sir. Keep writing ’em, I’ll keep reading ’em!
.-= Benoit Lelievre´s last blog ..Invisible Tension =-.
Nothing invisible about the lesson explained here. Will try. And thanks!
.-= Marisa Birns´s last blog ..Rufus Bent =-.
Don, not sure if this is the post you mentioned in your last appearance on WU about a particular variety of showing v. telling that gets readers into a character’s mind, but it sure seems that way to me! I like it. And I do like that kind of story-telling, where readers are privy via prose to the nuances of characters’ thoughts and feelings, the tension as you put it, or other undertones. That’s the beauty of writing and literature, and I do hope the appreciation of it doesn’t get more lost than it already is to the short-and-snappy, sound-bite-driven, action-only style being imposed by movies and TV.
This is such great information, which is why this man’s books are my bibles! LOL
The best part is how easily these “fixes” can be implemented, and then it’s permanently imprinted on the brain cells when creating new work.
Thanks for sharing your mastery of the craft. I always look forward to it.
.-= Donna Cummings´s last blog ..Butt Outta Chair =-.
Don,
Great point here as always. Boy, did writers ever win one when you decided to help us…
I found in a recent book I read, “City of Thieves”, there’s massive tension in many scenes. For example:
They are Russian prisoners – one of them goes to the Germans and strikes up a conversation. The Germans are laughing with the prisoner.
Without giving more away; on the surface, this is a few men standing around laughing. But underneath, you’re worried the Germans are seconds from action. Also, what’s led these people to be where they are is like a time bomb. As the reader, I’m on edge this whole scene. And yet, it’s just a few men standing around laughing.
Thank you for this inspiring post.
.-= Daryl Sedore´s last blog ..Writers Block is a Lie =-.
While I don’t claim to be very good at it yet, I’ve been in love with the technique of creating micro-tension since I read about it in The Fire In Fiction. This post is an beautiful compliment that book. Thanks!
.-= Lydia Sharp´s last blog ..Guest Book Review: ttyl by Lauren Myracle =-.
fabulous advice. I like the way you laid it out – internal conflict is difficult to make interesting. But you’ve shown a way to do that.
Exactly! I think you summed it up perfectly in “Whatever you name it, it’s based in conflicting or contrasting emotions.” Something is happening in these passages, even if it’s just giving the reader a better understanding of the character’s thoughts and emotions without saying “X thought” or “X felt”. They have to add something to the story to work, or else they get called out.
.-= Kristin Laughtin´s last blog ..What Lost Can Teach Us About Story-Building (Part II) =-.
Excellent advice. What do you expect from Donald Maass though? I have several of his books on writing, and recently I performed the exercises given in “The Fire of Fiction” and the improvement in my novel is night and day.
What Donald offered in the Fire of Fiction went beyond the rules on “scene” writing. He gives sound advice on how to bring the story and characters alive. Exposition is present in all books, and it’s not always the part the reader skips.
Is it easy? Not always. But Donald Maass gives the advice that takes the edge of the writer and puts it in the writing.
.-= Becca´s last blog ..Interview with Me =-.
The idea of invisible tension is similar to the principle of give/take. Every scene/action should further a pattern of give and take with the reader. For example, if the character is sitting, what else can we give the reader that gives that action meaning, that drives the story forward or raises more questions that need answering? Invisible tension/give and take, both are subtle ways of keeping our audiences engaged.
.-= S0BeUrself´s last blog ..Plotting: Part II: Addicted to Plot =-.
Donald, I’m going to try this and see what happens. I like the alchemy that happens just beneath the surface.
.-= Madison Woods´s last blog ..The next post. #amthinking, not yet #writing =-.
I’ve always tended to read more commercial fiction, but through happy circumstance have been led to two more literary works. Not only is the prose itself amazing (and intimidating) in both these books, but I slow right down because of the depth. The micro-tension is the cause.
.-= Jan O’Hara´s last blog ..Happy First Anniversary, Tartitude =-.
Oh boy oh boy oh boy–can’t wait to get some quiet time to give this exercise a go. I’ve got a character constantly in surveillance mode and this is exactly the thing with which I’ve been wrestling! Kudos, Mr. Maass.
This question has plagued me for so long: Why do I love these literary books where nothing happens?
Thank you for articulating what I never could.
.-= Erika Robuck´s last blog ..Review: The Vanishing Point =-.
I am loving this article. Every part of it. It’s such a fine line — the literary-ness (is that a word? *shrugs*) and the pacing and moving the novel forward. I love how well you’ve nailed invisible tens
ion. Lots to think about…
I have often wondered, “How’d they do that?” Now I know. Thank you.
as long as the characters are not merely drinking tea in a cafe/ kitchen, any scene can have tension
.-= e.lee´s last blog ..Character. Actor #2: Atonement =-.
My problem with the quote is that it’s all show and no tell. The point you’re trying to make is otherwise spot on.
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