Hi Reader,
Last week I started our three-week series on micro-tension. We explored what it is and looked at the opening scene of Inglourious Basterds as a masterful example.
Remember, micro-tension is the moment-by-moment friction that arises from conflicting emotions, desires, expectations, or subtext. So this week I want to take a deeper look at how we create micro-tension. What tools can we put in our arsenal that will help us actually craft these pulse-pounding scenes? How can we make readers lean forward, practically salivating with anticipation over what might possibly happen next?
Now, if you read last week’s newsletter, then you know that I’m not talking about the plot-level obstacles or big action-packed moments that make your book feel juicy. I’m talking about the line-level, intimate moments.
So what are three places to weave in micro-tension? Or another way of thinking about it are what are the engines that power micro-tension? They are: Inner conflict, interpersonal friction, and cognitive dissonance.
Before I dig too deeply into each of them, however, it’s impossible to talk about micro-tension without first understanding the role that interiority plays in it. You can read all about interiority here if you’re new to the concept, but essentially interiority is a character’s thoughts and feelings put directly on the page. The reader hears (or reads, as it were) their direct internal monologue. It’s peeking inside the character’s brain and understanding exactly how they see the world and how they’re making meaning of the events they are up against in that moment. So all of this is to say that if you want micro-tension, you cannot do it without interiority.
Inner conflict:
This is the bread and butter of character-driven fiction, right here. You cannot have compelling fiction (or scenes!) without a character who is struggling with conflicting emotions at once. We’re talking desire and fear. Or desire and disgust. Or needs like the need for belonging and the need to be independent. Or familial responsibility versus freedom and self-expression. Micro-tension, powered by inner conflict is all about watching in real-time as a character wars with these conflicting feelings.
So if you’re writing a romance, this might look like your character wanting to open up to their love interest about something deeply personal—a family situation, a mistake they made, hopes and dreams, etc.—but being afraid that revealing this part of themselves will lead to rejection. The love interest might be saying all the right things, encouraging honesty and openness, but your character struggles to allow the words to come.
Interpersonal friction
One of the best sources of tension—micro or plot-level—comes from our characters’ relationships with the other characters in their lives. When your character is a living-breathing person with a desire (as they should feel like to the reader), then it should stand to reason that the people in their lives are also people with desire…and that their desires/intentions don’t always align. And why should they? Fiction is supposed to mirror lives, and lord knows not everyone in your life feels exactly the same as you at all moments. That’s where friction happens. When your character thinks the best way to slice a cucumber is into little rounds, while their partner thinks the only way to do it is into long spears. Or when their mother thinks they should go to Med school, while all they want is to go to art school.
Interpersonal friction—especially on the micro-level is often about these big gaps between characters’ warring thoughts/beliefs/actions, etc., but they’re also situational. They might point to bigger issues through subtext.
Take my cucumber-slicing example above. Let’s say you have two married partners who have been having the same argument for years: one feels like the other always nit-picks them. They criticize everything they do, from the way they drive, to the way they do the laundry and raise their kids. Maybe their marriage is on the rocks and they are teetering on that edge of divorce. Now throw them into a situational scene with the cucumbers. Now their interpersonal friction is about a whole lot more than how to “properly” slice a cucumber.
When aiming for interpersonal friction to fuel your micro-tension scenes, bring all the characters’ baggage along for the ride, but have them dance around it. Let the subtext hold all the tension.
Cognitive Dissonance
Cognitive dissonance in fiction is about the gap between what the character thinks, says, and does. Think contradictions in how they’re behaving (or what they’re saying) on the outside, and what’s happening on the inside. Putting these contradictions on the pages creates tension because the reader senses that the character is performing or lying in some way, and they wonder how long they can keep it up or when it will explode. Put another way, when a character’s external behavior does not match with their internal emotions, readers sense a psychological tug-of-war and wonder which side will win.
Think of a moment when a character returns home after promising themselves they would never come back. They stand there looking up at the house and it’s clear from their body language, their internal thoughts, that they do not want to be there. And yet they take the handrail and climb the stoop.
Or when a character is passed up for a promotion by their work bestie. “I’m so happy for you,” they say, smiling so wide their jaw aches. Yet inside, their heart is breaking.
Maybe you have a character who is convinced they have no feelings for their best friend’s sister, but every moment they’re together they shoot each other yearning glances, they feel mad with jealousy any time they show another character attention.
The gap between a character’s internal and external world is a playground for micro-tension. Internal and external contradictions hint at deeper complexity, unresolved trauma, or buried longings. And sometimes, when a reader sees the truth before the character does, the dramatic irony keeps them glued to the page.
Contradiction creates curiosity. The human brain is wired to resolve the dissonance, so if we suspect a mismatch, we keep watching. Layering in cognitive dissonance into your scenes also invites interpretation—you’re inviting readers to read between the lines, which makes for active engagement.
When getting micro-tension on the page, one thing to remember is that you can layer these tactics, one upon the next, for a deeper, tenser, effect. Put your character in scenes with someone they have interpersonal friction with, then make them say one thing that contradicts how they really feel. Have them war with their own emotions or choices. All in one scene.
Then rinse and repeat and you have a novel full of tension.
Before I leave you, I offer another exercise for you. Take out a scene from your WIP—maybe even the one you worked on last week—and see if you can rewrite it layering in all three sources of micro-tension: inner conflict, interpersonal friction, and cognitive dissonance.
Bonus: Try removing a physical conflict (argument, car chase, fight, etc.) and see if you can rewrite it using only emotion and subtext. (Think: cucumber slicing.) If you do this, I’d love to hear how it works out for you! Write to me and let me know.
Next week we’ll look at how to edit your way to micro-tension: things to look out for during revision process, plus some line-level tips and tricks to amp up the tension.
Thanks for reading! Until next week…
Happy Writing,
Karyn
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Granite Bay, CA
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