Michael J. Coffino shows how to keep your readers glued to the page by cranking up the tension. From cliffhangers to character conflict, he shares tips every writer can put to work right away.

At a writer’s workshop, my feedback in response to a student reading of a chapter reduced to: “I kept hoping the story would make me nervous.” I had assumed a crisis awaited the main character, but as the chapter unfolded, I didn’t feel it in my gut—no buildup, no edge-of-the-seat anticipation. And when the crisis arrived, it landed flat, like an afterthought.

The story lacked tension.

Sustained Tension is Integral to Compelling Fiction

All content should propel the narrative forward but none does it with more force and effectiveness than sustained tension. Tension raises the emotional stakes, develops character arcs, and connects each piece of the narrative.

Emotional Stakes

Tension keeps readers on edge, signaling something big is coming. The more that hangs in the balance, the greater reader emotional investment and craving for more. Looming consequences—whether physical, emotional, or moral—keep escalating, making the cost of failure or inaction impossible to ignore.

In The Girl on the Train, tension spikes whenever Rachel meets her ex-husband Tom and his new wife, Anna. Their curt exchanges hide jealousy, mistrust, and rage. Each meeting risks exposing Rachel’s secrets and instability, with emotional, physical, and legal stakes.

Character Arcs

Tension forces characters to make tough choices under pressure and react to recurring challenges. The choices characters make in the moment expose their true nature and ignite transformation, fueling growth and sustaining emotional power in the story. Without tension, character development becomes   stagnant.

Breaking Bad delivers a masterclass in tension-fueled character development through Walter White’s transformation. At the start, White is a quiet, unassuming high school chemistry teacher facing cancer and financial hardship. The mounting tension drives him to a desperate choice: become a ruthless drug kingpin, a complete character makeover. The tension in the buildup is palpable.

Connecting the Narrative

Tension pulls every thread of the story tighter. It connects the dots by linking episodic cause and effect. Each turn of the plot should arise logically from what came before, creating an interdependent chain of events in which the pressure of one moment sets up the conditions for the next. Tension is the fuel driving the story forward.

In Gone Girl, tension coils through each twist: Nick and Amy’s marriage unravels through secrets, lies, and shifting perspectives. Each revelation escalates stakes, forcing desperate choices and making every plot beat feel both inevitable and shocking.

Pitfalls That Disrupt Tension in Fiction

Tension should run like an unbroken current. When sustained, it keeps readers uncertain, uneasy, and compelled to turn the page. Too often, writers let it flare briefly and then fade. Below are common pitfalls that disrupt the flow of tension.

Excessive Internal Monologue or Navel-Gazing

When characters linger too long in reflection, urgency drains and story momentum stalls. Short, well-placed glimpses, especially before pivot moments, can heighten tension. But the key is finding a balance to keep the story moving while enriching character depth. The craft lies in striking a balance—deepening character without slowing the drive forward.

Overuse of Backstory

Backstory can sharpen tension by revealing motivation or raising the stakes behind a character’s choices. But keep it brief. Long stretches of backstory pull readers away from the immediate conflict. Instead, weave in just enough to deepen present drama without breaking the story’s drive.

Information Dumping

Information dumping—a classic case of “telling”—is a tension killer and a common craft flaw, often born of an urge to explain too much, too soon. Dense exposition kills momentum. Weave necessary facts into action, dialogue, or character choices to keep readers immersed and hungry for the next piece of the puzzle.

Scenes Without Clear Purpose

Every scene must either drive the plot forward, reveal character, or intensify conflict. If it does none of these, it’s filler—dead weight that disrupts momentum, muddies the stakes, and erodes both suspense and urgency.

Early Resolution Without New Stakes

When conflicts resolve without new challenges emerging, tension fizzles. Subplots can wrap up, but central conflicts must intensify—or fresh ones must arise. Without escalation, the story loses urgency.

Predictability

Uncertainty drives tension; if outcomes are obvious, suspense and emotional stakes vanish. Without the reader’s worry and anticipatory excitement, the story breeds complacency instead of compulsion,

Tension Building Tools

Maintaining continuous tension in fiction requires a conscious application of narrative tools that keep readers emotionally invested. Here are some to consider.

• Character conflicts. Conflict between characters—especially those with deep ties or opposing goals—drives rich tension.

  Two childhood friends run for the same political office while their past resentments and divergent values are on full public display.

• Intense dialogue. Craft exchanges that crackle with conflict, ignite argument, pulse with raw emotion, and simmer with unspoken meaning.

  Two siblings discuss their mother’s terminal illness, but every line is a veiled accusation about who between them genuinely cares and who is selfish.

• Recurring conflict. Circle back to unfinished business, adding a new layer of intrigue and raising the stakes.

  A detective keeps crossing paths with the same enigmatic character, each encounter adding increments of danger and heightened moral compromise.

• Unanswered provocative questions. Intimate questions that cut to the story’s core.

  A daughter finds a second version of her father’s will, identical in date, witnesses, and execution but drastically different regarding divvying up the family business.

• Sensory detail. Ground tension in immediate and lived-in sensations.

  She shuffled into the narrow, sightless passageway, the air thick with mildew, the tang of rust in her mouth, a damp chill on her fingertips. The floorboards groaned under her weight—until the click of a gun hammer.

• Moral ambiguity. Put characters in scenarios where every decision has pros and cons.

  A lawyer discovers evidence that could both acquit her client and wreck the life of someone close to her.

• Misdirection. Tease readers with one interpretation, then subvert it.

  A shadowy figure slips into a surveilled house at night, suggesting he is the killer returning to the scene of the crime—until lighting reveals it is the protagonist’s estranged son.

• Sentence structure. Intersperse short, clipped sentences to jolt the pace and heighten urgency with longer, more reflective lines to deepen atmosphere.

  He ran. Hard. The alley closed in around him, brick walls narrowing to a sliver of moonlight, every breath scorching his lungs.

• Scene structure. Anchor each scene in a character goal blocked by obstacles.

  A journalist races to secure a whistleblower interview, only for the source to speak in cryptic riddles, while she spots two men in a parked car watching her closely.

Sustained tension, the heartbeat of compelling fiction, doesn’t happen accidently. As writers, it’s easy to skim passages we’ve read countless times across drafts. But the true alchemy of storytelling happens in self-editing.

Where does the story flatten? Are readers unsettled and anticipating? Is conflict unrelenting? Is trouble consistently imminent? Are characters tested at each turn?

Hold yourself accountable. Feel each beat of the narrative. Make every moment grip.

 

*Blog originally posted on ReaderViews.com