Writing Engaging Fictional Narratives

The art of suspense. (A genre I do love!) The scariest frame is the one you don’t see. I’m writing this because I enjoy sharing notes of our craft. Some of the most successful films lean on the unseen.  They let our brains think of the worst, imagination can be more scary than the visual on screen, and the budget will be thankful for this! Here’s why it works (and how we can use it): A good example at home… RGV’s Agyaat stalks a crew with an unseen predator—fear by sound, POV, aftermath. Varma has said the film was influenced by Predator, Aliens, Anaconda and The Blair Witch Project (1999) Further hits using our own Folklore (as i discussed in a previous post) = Stree. The film riffs on Karnataka’s “Nale Ba” legend, walls that read “O Stree, kal aana,”  off-screen abductions, town-wide paranoia. It adapts an urban myth and plays the threat mostly in our heads (not on screen). Jaws is the masterclass. The mechanical shark kept breaking, so Spielberg pivoted to barrels, dorsal fins, reactions, and score. Restraint turned chaos into suspense, and into a blockbuster. (Jaws is widely credited as the first “summer blockbuster.”)   The Notes… if you love this genre and want to play with it on your creations... Design the off-screen. Plan what’s beyond the frame: sound cues, eyelines, shadows, aftermath. (Noël Burch’s “off-screen space” is the playbook.)   Substitute markers. When you can’t show the thing, show its effects: ruffled curtain, scratched door, a phone vibrating on the floor. Barrels > shark.   Pay off late. Delay the reveal; let the audience write the monster. Practical guides back this: suspense escalates when we’re certain something is there but we can’t see it. A 20-second “Unseen” format for creators (try this just for fun): 1. 0–3s: Reaction shot + specific sound from off-screen (metal drag, distant whisper). 2. 3–8s: Eyeline → empty hallway. Insert a marker (a rolling bottle moving away frame). 3. 8–15s: Cut to aftermath (fresh scratch marks; lamps light up). Keep the source of what happened off-screen. 4. 15–20s: Pay off with information, not the thing (a map with one room circled; a text: “Don’t open the door”). Bottom line: In an era where AI lets us render anything, restraint is a feature, that still works very well. The unseen isn’t a limitation, it’s leverage

Hitchcock figured out why people can't look away — decades before anyone built an algorithm to exploit it. He called it "the bomb under the table." Two characters having a normal conversation. You, the audience, know there's a bomb ticking beneath the table. They don't. Suddenly every second stretches. Every gesture feels important. Every word carries weight. Here's the neuroscience underneath it: your brain doesn't react to events. It reacts to the anticipation of events. Which is why: — The silence before the scream is louder than the scream. — The moment before the crash matters more than the crash. — The best cliffhangers end two seconds before the explosion, not on it. This isn't just a film rule. It's a rule for any kind of storytelling — a pitch deck, a keynote, a sales call, a product launch, a founder's update. The most powerful moment in a story is never the event itself. It's the space right before it, where the audience leans in and can't look away. Every great cliffhanger is a bomb that never goes off. Broke this down in the 12-slide carousel above. Full video essay is on YouTube: https://lnkd.in/g6RWNRtk #Storytelling #ContentStrategy #Marketing #Creativity #Filmmaking

The biggest thing your stories are missing? Tension Tension helps draw the audience in an get them emotionally invested in your story. Here's 3 things you can insert into your next story to help create more tension. I'll use a story of a freelance video editor (Maria) who is on a journey of launching and scaling her business so you can see some examples of each of these in action. 1) CLIFFHANGERS - Build in some unresolved situations, making the audience eager to find out what happens next. Example: Maria’s heart pounded as she stared at the email on her screen. It was from the biggest potential client she had ever pitched to, a top-tier YouTube influencer whose contract could elevate her fledgling business to new heights. With trembling fingers, she clicked on the email, but just as the message loaded, her laptop screen went black. The power had gone out! She glanced at the clock. The deadline to respond was in ten minutes. (See how that drew you in? What will happen to Maria next? You want to keep reading to find out) 2) FORESHADOWING - Drop subtle hints about future events. - This creates a sense of impending doom or excitement, as the audience anticipates what's coming. Example: Maria's mentor had warned her about relying too heavily on a single client. "Diversify your client base," he'd said. "If one big fish slips away, you won't sink." But now, with her finances dwindling and a mountain of debt looming, she'd put everything on the line for this one opportunity. (See how this warning foreshadows something that is going to happen to Maria?) 3) RAISE THE STAKES - Gradually increase the risks and consequences for the characters in the story. - The higher the stakes, the more tension you create! Example: Maria's freelance business was her lifeline, not just for her career but for her family. Her father’s medical bills were piling up, and her younger brother's college tuition was due in a month. This contract wasn't just a professional milestone; it was a necessity. If she didn’t secure this client, she risked losing everything she had worked so hard to build. (See how you can now feel the pressure she is under? I raised the stake for Maria and you felt it) Try using any or all 3 of these in the next story you share (try it here on LinkedIn!) What other tips do you have for increasing the tension in a story?

What makes a story unputdownable? It’s not just “good writing.” It’s psychology. The best stories hack our brains by using three simple tricks: 1️⃣ Open loops. (Introduce a mystery, but don’t answer it immediately.) 2️⃣ Escalation. (Every scene must increase tension or deepen stakes.) 3️⃣ Micro-rewards. (Give small payoffs to keep the reader engaged, but always hint at something bigger coming.) When you use these, your story stops being just a story. It becomes a compulsion. Readers won’t even know why they can’t stop. They just won’t be able to.

Alfred Hitchcock on creating suspense and engagement: "Let's suppose that there is a bomb underneath this table between us. Nothing happens, and then all of a sudden, "Boom!" There is an explosion. The public is surprised, but prior to this surprise, it has seen an absolutely ordinary scene, of no special consequence. Now, let us take a suspense situation. The bomb is underneath the table and the public knows it, probably because they have seen the anarchist place it there. The public is aware the bomb is going to explode at one o'clock and there is a clock in the decor. The public can see that it is a quarter to one. In these conditions, the same innocuous conversation becomes fascinating because the public is participating in the scene. The audience is longing to warn the characters on the screen: "You shouldn't be talking about such trivial matters. There is a bomb beneath you and it is about to explode!"

No tension = no turning pages. Step 9: Inject conflict on every page. Even in quiet moments, tension is what glues eyes to the story. Here are 3 ways to do it: 1. Raise a question the reader has to answer Unanswered questions = irresistible tension. Example: “There was a wall. It did not look important.” – The Dispossessed, Ursula K. Le Guin That wall immediately signals separation, mystery, and meaning. Pro tip: You don’t need a sword fight. You need curiosity. Readers read to find out. 2. Create character friction—no matter how small Tension lives in subtext. Two characters want slightly different things? Boom—conflict. Example: In The Fellowship of the Ring, even the early Council of Elrond scene is full of tension—not from action, but from disagreement. Elves distrust dwarves. Men distrust everyone. No one agrees on what to do with the ring. Pro tip: Tension doesn’t mean shouting. It means a crack in alignment. 3. Make every scene a setup or a payoff If it’s not building toward something, it’s dragging. Example: Children of Time by Adrian Tchaikovsky sets up an ancient terraforming mission gone wrong. Every chapter tightens the cord between past and future. Pro tip: Readers don’t need to know what’s coming. They need to feel something is. How do you create tension in your writing?