A Simple Way to Create Suspense.... Lee Child

How do you create suspense? I’m asked that question often, and it seems that every writers’ symposium has a class with that title. It’s an important technical issue, and not just for so-called suspense novels. Every novel needs a narrative engine, a reason for people to keep reading to the end, whatever the subject, style, genre or approach.

But it’s a bad question. Its very form misleads writers and pushes them onto an unhelpful and over complicated track.

Because “How do you create suspense?” has the same interrogatory shape as “How do you bake a cake?” And we all know — in theory or practice — how to bake a cake. We need ingredients, and we infer that the better quality those ingredients are, the better quality the cake will be. We know that we have to mix and stir those ingredients, and we’re led to believe that the more thoroughly and conscientiously we combine them, the better the cake will taste. We know we have to cook the cake in an oven, and we figure that the more exact the temperature and timing, the better the cake will look.

So writers are taught to focus on ingredients and their combination. They’re told they should create attractive, sympathetic characters, so that readers will care about them deeply, and then to plunge those characters into situations of continuing peril, the descent into which is the mixing and stirring, and the duration and horrors of which are the timing and temperature.

But it’s really much simpler than that. “How do you bake a cake?” has the wrong structure. It’s too indirect. The right structure and the right question is: “How do you make your family hungry?”

And the answer is: You make them wait four hours for dinner.

As novelists, we should ask or imply a question at the beginning of the story, and then we should delay the answer. (Which is what I did here, and you’re still reading, right?)

Readers are human, and humans seem programmed to wait for answers to questions they witness being asked. I learned that fact in my first job. I worked in television production from 1977 until 1995, and the business changed radically during that time, mainly because of one particular invention. It was something that almost no one had in 1980, and that almost everyone had in 1990, and it changed the game forever. We had to cope with it. We had to invent a solution to the serious problem it posed.

(You notice I haven’t told you what the invention was yet? I implied a question, and didn’t answer it. You’re waiting. You’re wondering, what did almost no one have in 1980 that almost everyone had in 1990? You’re definitely going to read the next paragraph, aren’t you? Thus the principle works in a micro sense, as well as in a macro one. Page to page, paragraph to paragraph, line to line — even within single sentences — imply a question first, and then answer it second. The reader learns to chase, and the momentum becomes unstoppable.)

What almost no one had in 1980 and almost everyone had in 1990 was a remote control. Previously, at the end of a segment or a program, we could be fairly sure the viewer wouldn’t change the channel on a whim, because changing the channel required the viewer to get off the sofa and cross the room. But afterward, changing the channel was easy, which was very dangerous for an audience-hungry station.

So how did we respond? (Notice the structure here? Wait for it!) We started asking questions before the commercials, and answering them afterward.

For instance, heading toward a movie review program, I remember we asked: Who was the studio’s first choice for the Harry Callahan role in “Dirty Harry”?

We knew most viewers would be intrigued. (What, Clint Eastwood wasn’t the first choice?) But — and this was the lesson — the success of the tactic didn’t depend on intrigue. Even viewers with no interest at all stuck around to find out. Humans are hard-wired. They need to know. Even viewers who knew the answer for sure stuck around, in order to be gratified. The gap was bridged, and the danger averted. (It was Frank Sinatra. You waited, right?)

We need to bring the same simple principle to our books. Someone killed someone else: who? You’ll find out at the end of the book. Something weird is happening: what? You’ll find out at the end of the book. Something has to be stopped: how? You’ll find out at the end of the book.

Like the old cartoon of the big fish eating a smaller fish eating a very small fish, you’ll find out the big answer after a string of smaller drip-drip-drip answers. The big answer is parceled out slowly and parsimoniously. I remember doing that in “Killing Floor,” my first novel featuring Jack Reacher, a drifter and ex-military policeman. Something weird is happening in a small Georgia town. O.K., great, but what? Well, it seems to be something to do with money. Fine, but what exactly? Well, it seems to be about getting hold of perfect blank paper for counterfeiting purposes. Wonderful, but where the heck are they getting it?

(I’m not going to tell you. Read the book.)

In my latest Jack Reacher novel, “A Wanted Man,” it’s clear on the first page that a mysterious person has been murdered. Who was he? Why was he killed? He has appeared so early that the reader has no emotional investment in him. He doesn’t even have a name. Even so, the questions nag, and they aren’t completely answered until the last page.

Trusting such a simple system feels cheap and meretricious while you’re doing it. But it works. It’s all you need. Of course, attractive and sympathetic characters are nice to have; and elaborate and sinister entanglements are satisfying; and impossible-to-escape pits of despair are great. But they’re all luxuries. The basic narrative fuel is always the slow unveiling of the final answer.

So don’t bake cakes. Make your family hungry instead.

http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/12/08/a-simple-way-to-create-suspense/?partner=rss&emc=rss

18 Hours and Hope Beyond

Confusion, Profuse Gun fire exchanges, Tensed baffled faces, Air strikes, Rocket Propelled Granades, thick smokes, and even law makers picking up guns to retaliate through the night and into the morning. This looks like an intense Bollywood movie scene. You got to read the Morning Headlines and its details to believe it. Yes the real life drama was tiring and long. 18 continuous terrorizing hours spread across seven key sites including Parliament was their way of welcoming spring. The attempt was to scream aloud, "the tribe is not extinct". This firework was by far the biggest since 2001, a well coordinated attempt by the insurgents as the media reported.

Frequent loud booms of explosions, cyclic crackle of gunfire and wailing sirens interrupted my forced attempt to sleep whole night. It was something like a Diwali night scene of around 1 AM when some energetic enthusiasts refuse to let Diwali slip by. The only difference was absence of typical sulfur smell of fireworks.

Monday morning is unusually calm. No the air around is not serene and comforting. I see that even the fresh tender leaves of the spring have pretty fast learnt “white City”, “Grey City” terminologies of the UN security and are maintaining a terrifying silence. The birds’ chirping is noticeably missing. Traffic screeches and horns have suddenly evaporated. Kabul, the 3500 year old city of now 3 million, that has seen many empires battling over the valley, is continuing its battle almost in each corner huddled and cornered. The only silence breaker is the sound of the clock in my room intermittently overpowered by message and incoming call ring tones on my phone inquiring about my well being.

Tonnes of our tax payers’ money will again go in preparing reports based on “careful analysis” of the “security lapses” and topics of similar genre. Symptoms will again be discussed and brainstormed. But why this violent way of seeking solutions that has predominated Human history, will not find answers. Ask the commons and fingers would be pointed to leadership. Aah leadership that is an interesting aspect. Seen historically, every society leader is expected to protect its tribe and has been its source of legitimacy and power. The tribe that we individually identify ourselves with have always found comfort in our little cocoons. And the rivalry to outsmart each other continues. I guess the Time has come for “citizens of the world to unite” to lead their leaders for a change. Lest, all profound knowledge of peace, love, care contained in those hard bound cocooned literature said in different shades with which we identify ourselves will continue to fail  us generations after generations. History Teaches But we have failed History at least till now.

Just pondering....How shall we unite the “citizens of the world”?

Reducing Tax deficits.......Ideas for India

January February and March are the most taxing times literally as far as our middle class finances go. Our incomes take plunge thanks to Income tax deductions. These months are similar to that of our typical struggling mornings of squeezing out the tooth paste which refuses to yield in its last days. Sometimes, budget news, raising tax limits though is a solace even if it means few drops of rain on parched and baked earth of June. Calculating Tax liability and filing returns, any way has been the most mind-bogglingly complex maze year after year thanks to variety of exemptions, rebates and many more. My brain especially has never been able to comprehend those Tax Bonds and smart wading through options to save some trickles. More than often I have preferred paying whatever because the “closing balance’ in my account almost always takes a grin at my well researched thoughtful investment plans.

Any ways after finally having paid through our nose and tears, we hear that the monstrous government Tax deficit wanted to feed on more but for some Parliamentary decency, it has been left for later days. This is the time I struggle with some basics: whether we should be taxed at all? What should be taxed, our compensation or the consumption? And what should be the rates of taxation, regressive or progressive. I was told that most efficient Tax system is the most simplest. Then why the hell even the holy land of America and the Harvard, practice the most complex tax systems ever known to mankind? First Pay and then Tax and then offer tax sops. Try poking and those never to be answered questions will be posed by the never sure economist who adjusting their aging specks would say it all depends on what you want; to be fair or equitable? And they will end up with that feared word “Tradeoffs”.

Any ways my education says Tax is a necessary evil, because there are needs that only taxes can address, like availability of Public Goods. But the entire problem is because of scarcity. Like scarce natural resource there is scarcity almost always regarding tax volumes. So the question boils down to can there be more efficient ways of collecting money. More so, can there be more avenues that do not threaten our inflation flattened incomes. What can be done to raise revenue without further taxing those who are struggling, fretting and pleading?

And the answer is a definite Yes!!! We can improve the manner of tax collection. Context specific Tax collection ideas can do wonders. Consider Consumption tax where taxation follows volume of consumption. Taxing essential goods though is controversial, especially when the income percentage of the poor is spent most towards basic consumption which is certainly not fair. It will be argued that rich will continue to be subsidized by poor and that will not be equitable. Consumption tax probably can work best in a scenario where anyone can adjust their volume of consumption irrespective of their position on the economic ladder without hurting themselves.

If littering can be considered as a pleasurable consumption, those who value this can be taxed regressively. And here I see a great opportunity in “Littering Tax” in increasing the tax volumes almost exponentially. Do not be mistaken, though we keep our homes spotlessly clean, we are great at littering in public. And this great adventurous culture I am sure will help collect taxes in millions, because we value it so much. And even if such a system forces us to get back to basics, it will generate growth and promote environment. Imagine the savings we will make on sweeping charges all cities taken together. The money saved can be used to build new roads, open new schools, hospitals all adding to our quality of work force and hence their productivity and even on a nonexistent Social Security.  This tax will not be so difficult to collect and will be hard to evade because of the sheer visibility. They won’t add complexity to tax returns. Few perverse incentives, and can be used to raise a lot of money. This new source of money could also help change the face of tourism and can bring much needed dollars that we crave every day.

Consumption taxes are supported by a vast majority of economists. They underpin Western Europe’s welfare systems, which are based on the proposition that all citizens are entitled to similar income support and services to guarantee a minimum standard of living, and that everybody should pay proportionately for them.

Another variety could be Public Wall defacement Tax or Graffiti Tax............................. Who knows Compensation tax may become history in India because of this small tax code?

What an Idea Sirji? hahhahha

090209

Monday, 9^th February 2009, was the day I received the most precious gift of my life in New Delhi. This was nothing less profound than a real replacement of myself. The foggy morning with scattered clouds that day, I recall suddenly turned refreshingly warm and bright. I do a reality check on wunderground.com and I get reassured, indeed 9^th was warmer than the previous and the later day in degrees Celsius.

The journey of my replacement from the Operation Theatre to my arms though seemed frustratingly never ending. This wait was the most anxious moments I am yet to experience. My head kept reeling with stupid questions about the looks, health, sex, weight, complexion and what not. I think I was silently praying as well. Hope is important as it makes such moments less difficult to bear and precisely my prayer was for the best hope. Nature has been kind enough at critical times never to deny me such soothing fruits of hope, and here lay a bundle wrapped in white and pink towel, with closed eyes resembling serene Buddha in deep meditation. She is your Girl Child is what the polite nurse softly murmured trying not to interrupt my feelings of joy, elation, disbelief, that ended in eerie calm all almost in seconds. Soon this was broken with soft congratulations and warm hugs from the family. Most close to me rushed to see my contentment on the tired face at the best possible speed making my eventful day complete to the fullest.

The journey with this bundle of joy has since been enriching with each passing day. My 1^st year nights with here were all the more satisfying as I grabbed every opportunity in making the most cuddles, often denying it to the harbinger of this fortune. Well being greedy pays. They say her twinkle and looks reflect mine and I often suspect those never ending cuddles helped the most.

Time flies and frustratingly faster than what Einstein has propounded. I often wished that she remains a bundle, a toy that continues spreading smiles in arms and laughs when tossed. But who cares of my innocent wishes. She is three years today. She talks a lot, sometimes even to the extent of cute shouts and preaches. Coincidently, this very day her baby steps have taken their first flight to her formal school. And providence decided she goes to my alma-mater. All preparations were made for this eventful journey of hers. Except for my wish to be with her this eventful day; everything was perfect. She had a school dress, a school bag, a lunch box. We were excited since a day before.

With the breaking sun I came online on Skype eagerly to have the first look of her first looks in a first ever uniform. My skype rings disappointedly went unanswered several times. Finally when it was answered I was told she has woken up late. I wondered if it was deliberate and if she was rather mentally preparing for her first formal training of ways to comprehend the real world. Any ways, I did not complain waiting more for a moment as precious as this.

While waiting, I take a look out of my window. I realise it is beginning of spring in Kabul. The barren tree branches now are full of tiny little bud leaves cutely cuddling their little mother branches. Freshness is beginning to sprout in the otherwise dull rocky surrounding. The buds are rearing to sprout or are scared of facing the soon to be hot surrounding? They have no choice I conclude; they will have to experience cool refreshing spring, will have to face the burning sun, tattering thunder and biting snow at each stages. And in doing so they would enjoy enriching their surroundings. Similar will have to be the choice of my darling.

My attention is broken by the beeping skype. She is ready with a smile. She looked awesome in stripped cream dress, yellow socks and yellow shoes with blue stripes. I was later told she cried at the gates before being mercilessly left to handle never before seen faces on her own.

Denounce attachment was probably the first lesson, she was made to learn. Possibly she would have also learnt another lesson fear of anything is unduly exaggerated as she was back in her mom’s lap four hours later with that contagious smile and twinkle in the eyes.

The Weaker Sex?

6 AM Kabul Time, I get up early to see off my senior colleague who is flying to Delhi. “Happy Holi” is what he wishes softly while getting into his car. I reciprocate, shake hands and wave him off. 27 flight of steps takes me back to my den on the first floor of the Guest house where lies my sweet other colleague and buddy Dell Laptop. I gently tap the power button and it comes alive with a familiar twing sound as if wishing me good morning.

The screen comes alive and I notice the day 8^th March.           8^th March....8^th March....8^th March ...Ah! it is International Women’s Day as well today. Good reason to call female friends and wish them Happy Holi and Happy Women’s day.

While I mentally make a list of those lovable friends I click my mail inbox. A female colleague of mine has sent me a link. The link contents are certainly not welcome on Women’s Day. The headline reads “Afghan president endorses clerics’ code that downgrades women’s rights” I quickly skim through the details. The Ulema Council’s code says women should not travel without a male guardian or mingle with men in public places such as schools, offices or markets. No heavy makeup. It also allows wife-beating in the case of a “sharia-compliant” reasons. Mr. Karzai says the council does not put “any limitations” on women, and that it only has stated “the sharia law of all Muslims and all Afghans.” The news goes on to say that some Muslim scholars have disputed the clerics’ strict interpretation. The statement has drawn criticism in the Parliament, where some politicians took it as a direct assault on the constitution. There were though some positive points, most notably the code denounced forced marriage and the practice of exchanging women to settle family disputes over money or honour.

Weaker Sex was the connotation that came to my mind and I got reminded of Ogden Nash who said “I have an idea that the phrase "weaker sex" was coined by some woman to disarm some man she was preparing to overwhelm. I wonder if this age long battle of outsmarting sexes is turning murkier and ugly in every nook and corner in varying degrees by both educated and otherwise.

Well, I close the link and resolve to call my lovely female friends to lighten the gloom. Because I consider woman is an enigma that harbours a myriad thoughts and emotions within the crucible of privacy. She drives you crazy, and yet one cannot fathom how insipid the world would be without her. Insipid yes all the more the day that appreciates hues and colours of life the festival of Holi marking onset of nature’s own way of splashing colours through spring season. A day of riot of colours celebrated without inhibitions, a day of smearing Gulal on lovely faces, splashing colours recklessly, exchanging hugs and embraces profusely, and visiting friends wearing clothes dyed in myriad hues, nibbling gujias from morning to late afternoon wishing the day never to end.

Going through various hues of emotions of missing my cute little daughter and my loving wife whom I could not join, I began dialling. Tring Tring Tring................ and my sweet warm friend picked up. We exchanged greetings laughed a bit and she shared, women’s way of unique celebration is something to be seen in Kerala........ I said what? Apt was the reply Google. Well I googled and found an interesting fact about Attukal pongala festival of Kerala. This Festival of Kerala is exclusively for women and has made its way to the Guinness Book of World Records as the largest religious congregation of women on a single day.

Hundred thousands of women from Kerala and other parts of the country participate in this festival. They squat along roads and by-lanes beginning wee hours and offer pongal in Attukal Bhagavathy Temple in Thiruvananthapuram city. The roads leading to temple are almost choked and men stay home. Though it is a Hindu festival, the other religious people also offer their place gladly to the devotees to do their pongala.  The women do this for the well being of their husband and children.

The reason for this celebration however impressed me the most “well being of husband and Children”. Various hues of emotions again engulfed me ranging between gloom and smile on this women’s Day. I once again began questioning the complex ways of society that treats its well wishers so unkindly, the misplaced perceptions about truths, the strange ways of civilising the civilisations and many more which possibly are adding more tremors and fractures. Well why not discipline self than to seek to discipline the counterpart in the name of a utopian order?

The question remains who is the weaker Sex?

Long Live Women’s day that celebrates and nurtures hope for a better tomorrow.