Building Tension

I've just read a wonderful one-page article on writing SciFi by a Wen Spencer about building tension in which the author recommends a gradual build to action that is sure to create a sense of impending calamity instead of the staid and all too normal “suddenly”.  Suddenly is a shortcut—the author says—that doesn't work well.

Giving the reader clues to what is coming works best because they (the audience, really) can start building an image in their minds what is about to come.  Setting up a flow of action then breaking from it in a jarring manner and the true action of suddenly is there without resorting to the packaged, freeze-dried word.

His (or her) example:

Rainlilly drew her sword and crouched into readiness. Instantly all the other sekasha went tense, hand to their weapons, pulling in tighter around Tinker.

“What is it?” Pony scanned the thick underbrush that Rainlilly faced.

“Something is going to attack,” Rainlilly whispered. “Something large.”

“?” Pony spoke a word that Tinker didn’t recognize in question.

Rainlilly nodded.

“What does she see?” Tinker whispered.

“What will be,” Pony made a gesture to back the way they had come. “We’re in an position of weakness. We should retreat to —”

Something huge and sinuous as a snake flashed out of the shadows. Tinker got the impression of scales, a wedge-shaped head, and a mouth full of teeth before Pony leaped between her and the monster. Pony shouted the deep guttural command to activate his magical shields. Magic spilled out of the cobalt blue stones threaded into this hair, traced down the blue tattoos on his arms and flared into a shimmer blue force that encompassed his body.

The creature struck Pony with a blow that smashed him back into Tinker, his shields flashing as they absorbed the brunt of the damage.

I'm not normally a fan of fantasy and SciFi, but I take the point, don't you?

Humility

The meeting of the Idaho Screenwriter's Group is underway and a middle-aged man sitting to my left has just handed me a copy of his script.  I am to be the narrator, in charge of reading out the slugs and description while others in the group will be the actors.

At the end of 15 minutes, it was over and the inevitable critique session kicked in: what do we think, he asks.  Since I was reading, I thought I should skim the work again as before, I was busy concentrating on my diction and so on—I've been known to murder the pronunciation of words.

I liked a lot about it and in ten pages, the script was shaping up to be an intelligent comedy.  I didn't like the dialog of some characters, but the setting was real enough and the description was on-point.  I offered my analysis as such.

He offered me his thanks, told me I'd made a good point and the meeting went on ... cut to the end of the gathering when we were all to introduce ourselves and I found out that this guy whose work I'd been criticizing was a writer on Mr. Belvedere and a script doctor on The Two Jakes and The Honeymooners.

Ehem.

I blushed a bit, of course, but as he was so humble and accommodating, it was okay.  That's humility and more of us would be well-advised to adopt such a strategy.  If only to have an unknown admirer pen a praise post!