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One of the toughest things to do in fiction or creative nonfiction writing, in my professional opinion, is to create strong, believable tension. Without tension—between the protagonist and a villain, the protagonist and him/herself, the protagonist and the environment, etc—you really don’t have much of a story. And it’s unlikely readers will want to follow you far through the jungle of your narrative.

Tension seems to be lumped in usually with plot. I agree that plot and tension often go hand in hand, but I also think that stories which essentially lack, for the most part, any real sense of “A-plus-B-equals-C” type of standard plot (meaning one thing happens which forces another to happen, etc, a sort of “causes and conditions” situation) can still grab readers’ interest and hold our attention for 250, 300 pages…as long as you’ve got real, authentic tension.

Some obvious examples: A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius (Dave Eggers’ 2000 memoir); The Sun Also Rises (Ernest Hemingway); On the Road (Jack Kerouac); and Dave Eggers’ latest novel, Heroes of the Frontier. There are, of course, many, many other examples, both contemporary and from the past. I mention only a few here for the sake of example.

In all of the works listed above, there is, in the “standard” sense, a lack of “plot.” These tales are really more “anecdotal” in nature: This happens, then this, then this, then that, and on and on. Left bare-bones, this would bore the fur off a chipmunk. But they all have a few things in common: Fantastic writing; fabulous, three-dimensional characters that are believable; a rich, authentic setting; driving motivations from the protagonist; a deep, richly told interior landscape for the main character, as well as high emotional stakes and empathy; and, last but definitely not least: They all have, in various forms, strong, palpable tension that drives the story forward.

In the case of A Heartbreaking Work, the tension is between the narrator’s youthful self and his new self after his parents have died; between the youthful idealist and the fresh, startling kid suddenly thrust into the role of a parent; between who he once wanted to be and who he now must be, in order for him to successfully survive emotionally and to raise his younger brother. In The Sun Also Rises, we see the protagonist in a constant state of tension between his love for Bret—the woman who is the center of almost all the characters’ desires—and his knowledge that she must carve her own path, be with who she wants, be her own woman; between his own desire to write and be a serious author and yet to be with his wife and build his family; between his yearning for the United States, his home, and being in Paris, his temporary literary hideout. In On the Road, the tension is between Sal Paradise’s need to run away, be “on the road,” and his need to write and be a successful author; between his sort of male existential lust for Neal Cassady’s semi-questionable friendship and his desire to be free of the road-warrior he sometimes wants to be rid of and doesn’t always understand; between his childish, naïve urge to do everything and be everywhere, and his growing notion that, to be a man, he must, at some point, slow down, settle, get married, and grow up.

In Heroes of the Frontier, the tension is between the protagonist’s wavering belief that she is doing right by her kids, taking them out of school and driving them around the lurid, lush landscape of Alaska, and knowing that she is being an irresponsible mother; between her need to prove to herself that she is a good person, a worthy human being, and knowing that, at least in part, in her mind, she is partially broken, due to her harrowing upbringing; between her sense of self love and self worth and the sense that she is not worth much at all, possibly nothing in fact; between her past and her present; between her desire for being around people and her need to be alone.

The above list is not, of course, any kind of definitive or by any means exhaustive list of tension, the books that include it, or of all the forms of tension the books mentioned take advantage of. It is only meant as a brief example.

So, the question arrives: How do you create tension? What, exactly, is tension anyway?

Tension creates drama: friction; movement. Like two sticks rubbing together to create fire. And that’s what you want in fiction or memoir: A burst of flames. We can all relate to things we want but can’t quite ever have. Perhaps by the end of the story you’ve written the character does finally get that thing, whatever it is, whether it’s physical, emotional, or psychological.

Think of a character. Now make sure that character wants something. Your whole book, or a significant portion of it, should include your character trying to get that thing and not achieving it. If you design a fully-rounded character, one that we care about, one that’s fully fleshed-out and realistic, then we should be able to empathize with that created character’s wants/desires. Once we care, you’re in. Now all you have to do is find that tension.

Example. Right now I am rereading Philip Caputo’s brilliant 1977 Vietnam War memoir, A Rumor of War. There is clear, obvious tension in this book from the beginning, of course: They’re preparing to go from peacetime America to war-torn Vietnam. (Actually, he was one of the first Marine platoons to actually fight in Vietnam; he went there in early 1965, when we were supposedly still “aiding” the ARVN (South Vietnamese). That strategy soon changed.) So, in this case, there’s almost a sort of built in sense of impending tension. But he also finds many other methods for demonstrating tension: The tension between the narrator’s sense of morality and what he is commanded to do in war; the tension between humanizing the enemy (The Viet Cong) and seeing them as brute savages; the tension between following orders without question and internally questioning why it was they were there, fighting a horrific guerilla war in a faraway country in Southeast Asia. There are many more forms of tension in Caputo’s book. Another one I really enjoyed is his use of tension between himself (and the other soldiers) and the environment; the jungle. He describes the jungle as “malevolent,” as if it were trying to crush them into powder; the brutal, bashing heat as a terrible, lecherous demon, intent on murdering them; the sun as a horrid thing, wanting nothing more than their demise.

The point here is that, in any way possible, create real tension between your narrator and either external and/or internal forces and I can almost guarantee—again, as long as you have the other essentials of story: well-written prose sentences; well-rounded, believable characters; character and story arc (transformation); a hero’s journey; point of no return; strong setting; etc—that readers will most likely want to keep reading, turning the page again and again and again. Have a strong, well-written story or strong characters and setting etc with NO tension? You’re unlikely to get very far with readers.

Think about real life: the uncle who drives you nuts; the parent who presses that annoying internal button every time you see them; that prize or award you yearn for but never get; the self love you can’t quite seem to ever grasp; the love from Dad you can’t ever quite seem to get, at least not in the way you desire; the job you want but are somehow blocked from; the need to be two conflicting people somehow, one at work, one at home with your partner; the need for external validation and never getting it; the action of leaving something (a job, a boyfriend) and then feeling like you can’t live without them, but knowing you must, etc. The list could go on and on and on. The point is: Create that character, that story framework/foundation, and then inject tension into it. You’ll be grateful you did.

Hurdles are one thing—obvious preventatives that get in your main character’s way—but some tension can be more subtle and interior. Either way, learn to traverse the lush landscape of a character’s inner and outer world, using tension, by questioning your own life and experience: What has led to your own true tension? Answer that and you’ve got a start. From there keep digging. Read novels and memoir that work well with tension. Watch movies that use it. Most good ones do. I just watched The Big Short finally. There is constant tension in that movie: Between the guy who knows what’s going to happen and his boss; within that guy’s own internal machinery (whether he made the right choice, once he learns how corrupt the lending corporations are); between the banks and the people requesting insurance pay-outs; between the two younger guys banking on the whole Jenga tower falling and their backer (Brad Pitt); between the lenders themselves and the idea of failure; and on and on. This drives the emotional power of the story. Most films do this on some level.

Play with this. If your novel/memoir lacks tension, go through the MS and find out where you can add it in. It is key.

If you need a second pair of eyes, I do developmental book editing. As a former literary agent’s assistant, a published writer (with a degree in writing), and a fine-eyed scanner of literary prose, I can locate those areas which are lacking in plot, pace, character-development, voice, dialogue-believability, logic, etc. I can help you find areas to add in tension, to push the level of internal/external dissonance to a higher apex, to move your story forward using fictive techniques of story arc, character arc, and strong setting. Email me at: michaelmohreditor@gmail.com. I work with YA and adult book and will look at just about anything other than middle grade or poetry, etc. I work solely with novels and memoir.

Write on.

“You said it. Let’s edit.”

Michael Mohr



I want to talk about my book editing style and process. First off, here’s my background. In a sense, I have been writing my whole life. Ever since I was a kid, I’d pen poems and prose like a mad-child, bordering on obsession. My mother and I would exchange apologies via long-form letter when we fought. Etc.

After landing my BA in writing from San Francisco State—and turning down an acceptance for the MA in Writing program—I decided to intern with a literary agent in the Bay Area. Here I learned everything I possibly could about the submission process, the dreaded slush pile, acquisitions editors, queries, rejections, and on and on. In the process I had been getting my short stories and nonfiction pieces published in little lit mags and journals. I eventually became the senior agent at the firm’s assistant and I learned from the inside out.

Eventually, that agent told me to go off on my own and do what I clearly did best: book editing. So I did. I’d been editing her acquired clients’ books for months by that point, many of whom went on to be published. I realized she was right and I knew I didn’t want to be an agent (too much business and finance).

In the last few years I have published many more stories and written several more books. And I’ve developed the unique editing style that many writers have come to respect. I focus on what’s called “developmental” editing. This means I focus mainly on the following: structure, plot, character-development, pace, logistical issues, dialogue, transitions, etc. Basically, I zoom the camera out and look at what is working and what isn’t. In today’s tough, competitive commercial writing environment this is key. You need and deserve a passionate editor who is backing you up and who knows something about the industry. I go to writing conferences year-round and know the agent submission process. Not all editors do.

So here’s my process. First off, I only handle fiction and memoir. Within fiction I will work with YA or adult, and pretty much any genre except for paranormal. Sci-fi fantasy is okay but I generally prefer more “realistic” novels; that’s just my taste. But if you’re unsure, email me (michaelmohreditor@gmail.com).

For memoir, I take just about anything. A recent memoir client was Christian Picciolini, an ex neo-Nazi skinhead (one of the first in America) who got sucked into the scene in the mid-80s and got out in the mid-90s. He formed a non-profit called “Life After Hate” that helps young people (or anyone) disentangle from hate groups. He is a pro-diversity, non-violent, anti-racist activist now who fights for global change. His memoir was published in April, 2015 and is called, “Romantic Violence: Memoirs of an American Skinhead.” Check it out. It’s an incredible, important book that everyone, especially in America, should read. With the Sandy Hook, South Carolina, Oregon and now Florida shootings, his book is more pressing than ever. Order it on Amazon HERE.

I usually do a 10-20 page test edit for the prospective client. This is one-time only and is free. The point is that the client can then decide whether they want to work with me or not. Often they are knocked sideways at my skill and ability to locate exactly what needs work. A good editor always can and will do this. Once we’ve established that we want to work together, I’ll draft and we’ll sign a short, standard book editing contract. Then the client will pay me the first half of the total bill, based off my flat-fee listed on my website. As it stands currently I charge 2 cents per word. Multiply this by your word count and that’d be your total bill. (Add 2.9% PayPal fee if paying via PP. I also accept physical check by mail.)

Once we’ve signed a contract, you’ve paid me the first half, and you’ve sent me the full, up-to-date manuscript as a word.doc, I then delve in. We would have agreed upon a certain deadline for me to have finished by this point, which will be listed in the contract so we’re both crystal clear. From here, I will edit the book and then send it back to you by the deadline, simple as that.

Now, you might be asking, What is the book going to look like upon return? Good question. Traditionally, I would mark up the “digital page,” so to speak, with red comments all over. I still do this to an extent. But lately (in addition to the “tracked” changes in red and red comments below paragraphs that I deem as “needing work”) I do the vast majority of my commentary “off the page.” This means I take extensive notes on a yellow legal pad as I go and then at the end I produce a [usually] 5-15 single-spaced page “editorial letter” that essentially documents every “issue” I have with the book and what I think you can and should do, in my professional opinion, to strengthen your work. This includes very practical methods for actually making the book stronger and tighter. Often the mistakes I see on newer writers’ books are very common and simple to fix. Sometimes it requires much rewriting and revision and sometimes it requires an entire rewrite. In any case, you’ll learn as a writer from my comments, that I can guarantee.

So if you have a novel or memoir you’re trying to take to the next level, please do send me an email. I prefer to hear a bit about you and your writing history (if any) and a little query or synopsis about the book, plus the first chapter, all in a word.doc attachment with your introductory email. Again: michaelmohreditor@gmail.com.

Remember: writing is a lot of work. Be patient, be willing to hear constructive criticism, and be open to revision and rewriting. It’s just part of The Process.

Write on.

“You said it. Let’s edit.”

Michael Mohr

P.S.: Come find me at the Southern California Writers' Conference in Irvine, CA, 9/23-25. I'm on the faculty under the AGENTS AND EDITORS section: Click HERE. (Scroll down.)


I can recommend several books to read for aspiring (or accomplished) writers, that will help you gain a deeper understanding of craft and storytelling. Because, as Stephen King, that great Father of Storytelling, said in “On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft,” “If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot. There's no way around these two things that I'm aware of, no shortcut.”

For one, if you like suspense: Jenny Milchman’s “As Night Falls.” (2015.) It’s an ass-kicker of a ride that never stops, never let’s go. If you like being pulled along for a ride, this is your book. Great for studying cliff-hangers, how to add suspense and then slow time for greater effect, how to plunge sympathetic, likeable characters into an extreme situation and create a hero we care about, and solid for general plotting, going from scene to scene using action and dialogue to move us along. (Every scene has an action and reaction that moves us forward.)

If you like middle-grade/young adult fantasy, Donna Galanti’s “Joshua and the Lightning Road” is a good choice. (2015.) Study this for how to hook readers right out of the [literary] gate, how to craft a very likeable main character/protagonist we root for, and how to press hurdles and obstacles in on that protagonist and find creative ways to force that character through the hurdles out to the other side. Also, study her writing for short, active-voice, well-executed sentences that engage the reader and draw them in.

Lori Windsor Mohr’s literary novel, “The Road at my Door,” (2015) is a fantastic example for all of you aspiring literary writers of how to craft a compelling, deep, drenched-with-meaning novel that appeals to a young audience and yet is from an earlier era (the 1960s). A great study of writing craft in both the sense of diction (word choice; she uses very precise words), syntax (how she strings sentences together), and how to effectively meld plot and a literary sensibility without sacrificing either audience or depth of meaning (another way of saying, being true to your literary fans while also not boring your more commercial, plot-driven fans; no easy feat).

And, finally, Joe Clifford’s “Lamentation.” (2014.) Study this book for, again, craft on a line-by-line basis (this guy obviously snagged his MFA at some point), deft awareness of his particular genre (thriller/mystery/noir), articulate plotting (quite layered), and complex characters.

Lamentation follows our protagonist, Jay Porter, through a series of mishaps trying to find out the truth related to a murder connected to his in-and-out-of-jail, junkie older brother. At first, for me, as a reader, it was a little tough to “care” about Jay. I definitely didn’t care much about Chris, his older brother who was the progenitor of all the drama. In a sense, it felt like Jay was built from the start to be a sort of pseudo anti-hero of sorts. Being noir, where the protagonist often crosses blurry moral lines, and where we don’t always necessarily know if the “hero” is supposed to make it, I wasn’t sure how much I gave a crap.

But then something shifted. First off, Joe’s writing is spectacular. He can spin a yarn like nobody’s business. His sentences sparkle with brisk muscularity, and the paragraphs and scenes move us from point A to point B without too much interruption. Within all this are characters we begin, slowly, to care about. Why? Because, though they are not middleclass, professional, outwardly nice/kind/polite, or externally sensitive people (and are, in fact, quite crude), they are complex and real-feeling and altogether, in the end, human. In short, we finally do care about Jay Porter because, if we’re honest with ourselves, we can relate. We empathize. Some part of our hearts and minds gets this, the lurid, dark and gritty side of human frailty and nature. At least to an extent.

Over the course of the novel we begin to realize that things aren’t quite as they perhaps seemed on the surface (surprise, surprise). Maybe Jay is more than just some gruff, out-of-work 30-year-old who’s wounded from his folks’ car crash death 20 years prior. Maybe it’s about more than just saving his brother from himself. And the complexity increases when we follow Jay’s rocky relationship with an ex girlfriend (also the mother of his two-year-old son), his past with applying to college and almost going but choosing to work in their small, New Hampshire, 3,000-population town instead, and his ambivalence around helping his brother, whom he loves deeply, deciding whether to let him suffer the consequences of his own actions or step in, like always, and save the day.

Told in a dark, elegant prose style that brings to mind “The Motel Life” by Willy Vlautin (they made this novel, from 2007, a major motion picture), Joe Clifford’s “Lamentation,” in my opinion, deserves high praise. It does everything a good novel—whether crime noir, action-adventure, suspense, literary, or other—should do: It creates compelling, complex characters; it draws the reader in and doesn’t let go; it creates a deep plot network that keeps you guessing and asking questions; it forces the reader to face uncomfortable truths about him or herself; and it plays with craft in a very fun, very authentic way. If nothing else, the voice is incredibly strong, and that’s something you cannot ignore.

So if you like dark, give this a try. Unless, of course, you’re too scared J (That’s a challenge.)

“You said it. Let’s edit.”

Write on.

Michael Mohr

P.S. I will be attending the Southern California Writers’ Conference in Irvine, California, September 23-25, 2016. I am on the faculty as an editor, doing advanced manuscript submissions. Sign up for me to critique your work, or heck, just find me and say hi at the conference! I do developmental book editing for fiction and memoir, focusing on plot, pace, character, story arc, logic issues, etc.

A former literary agent’s assistant, I am also a published writer. Find my work in Writers’ Digest; The Kimberley Cameron & Associates Literary Agency Blog; The San Francisco Writers’ Conference Newsletter; MASH; Alfie Dog Press; Fiction Magazines; and much more. If interested in having me review your work and do a one-time-only 10-15 page free test edit (for non-conference attendees), please get in touch: michaelmohreditor@gmail.com!


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