How to Create Suspense (Writing Emotion: Unease)
The Writing Emotion series observes one emotion at a time in a story that does it well. This is so that we can understand better how to do our most important job as storytellers (no matter the genre): make readers feel.
The objective of these posts is less about learning to convey a specific emotion (joy, sorrow, anxiousness, etc.) and more about studying what is going on underneath a scene that makes the emotionality of it more compelling for the characters and the reader alike—
It’s about learning to write emotion.
Emotion: Unease
Story: Once Upon a Time In…Hollywood
Unease: mental or spiritual discomfort, such as:
vague dissatisfaction
(MISGIVING):
a feeling of doubt or suspicion especially concerning a future event
(ANXIETY):
apprehensive uneasiness or nervousness usually over an impending or anticipated ill,
(DISQUIET):
to take away the peace or tranquility of
lack of ease (as in social relations)
Scene from the story:
Okay. This scene, in my opinion, is a masterclass in using emotion. My goodness, I could gush. And in the lessons below, I’m going to. In fact, I couldn’t keep my lessons to just 3 for this long scene. So buckle up.
A note: Normally, the lessons from these scenes are fairly universally applicable to any emotion. However, in this scene, most of these lessons lend themselves to uncomfortable or unsettling emotions. As such, they provide fantastic ideas for adding tension, suspense, and, of course, unease.
I originally found the full clip of this scene, but the video is no longer available. The clip above captures only the last half of the scene. I highly encourage you to watch the full scene if you have the chance, as some of the lessons below (especially Lessons 1, 3, 4, 5, & 9 — though they are still useful) refer to the first half of the scene.
Lesson 1 in Writing Emotion: Characterization that invites questions & curiosity
In storytelling, curiosity is our friend. There are different ways to use curiosity. You might have story-length questions, such as:
Will they get together?
Will she get the job?
Will he forgive his mother?
In this scene, however, we have curiosity in terms of a character that happens instantly through one particular decision:
We can’t see Squeaky’s (Dakota Fanning) face.
Boom. Right away, vital information is being held back. This piques our curiosity—as well as a whole host of questions—on a fundamental level. More importantly (since we’re discussing emotion) it makes us uneasy.
Keeping Squeaky hidden knocks us off balance. And we can’t help but want to keep watching, if only to resolve this one single question: what does Squeaky look like?
Note: Yes, this is a film. However, this technique could also be accomplished effectively by hiding a face through description in a book, as well.
Even without seeing her face, we learn so much about Squeaky. We get a lot of characterization in only a few lines of dialogue, and this characterization continues to invite questions:
Squeaky recognizes that Cliff’s car is not one of theirs based solely on the way it sounds. Our natural explanation for this is that she is on edge, feeling the need to know who is around her at all times. She jumps into higher than normal apprehension when someone unfamiliar enters her space. Why?
Squeaky is clearly in charge. She gives an order, and the others listen without any hesitation or challenge. Why is this the case?
Despite the obvious unease of the situation, she stays calm and confident. Because this scene invites so much unease (and because her face is still hidden), this confidence invites a note of foreboding.
SO much characterization here that does a brilliant job of grounding the uneasiness and tension of the scene. It’s the perfect balance of how much to show versus how much to hold back, keeping us on the hook.
Lesson 2: Eery silence…or is it?
Senses are an important and tangible way to ground an audience in a scene. In a book, words are used to describe what the character is seeing, feeling, smelling, tasting…and hearing.
The background of this scene adds to the uneasiness because of its eery silence…almost.
In actuality, there’s quite a bit of noise. A pack of dogs is running wild, and their barking is doing just enough to add a quirk of texture and irritation without drawing our attention to the dogs so much that they distract us from the action of the scene. Or even from the eery silence of the ranch.
This is a tactic Quentin Tarantino has actually spoken to, and it’s one I’ve turned to more than once in my writing.
When a scene is feeling flat texturally or emotionally, I add a tick in the background. A ringing phone. A song. A fight in another room. Depending on what emotionality you are going for, this can add so much atmosphere with something that might go virtually unnoticed.
Lesson 3: Build the threat…but don’t
We’re worried for Cliff going into this scene because we know about the Manson family (more on this in Lesson 7). But our unease slowly builds as more and more people come into the picture.
And yet…these people seem harmless. They’re mostly young, affectionate girls. But by constantly adding to the number of people seemingly against Cliff, while also keeping a question in the air—wait, are they a threat?—the feeling of unease builds.
If it were an obvious villain, we would know what we were up against. But keeping that question of whether or not they are a threat almost lulls us into a sense of safety (They’re mostly young, happy-go-lucky girls, right? What’s the problem?), and puts us more on edge.
So in the end, we have the sense of a building threat, but it’s unfamiliar. We’re trying to make sense of it, trying to wade through, and navigate exactly how we should feel.
Note: This is a tool similar to using an upended convention, as discussed in the post on Joy.
Lesson 4: Slowly reveal the goal
Why is Cliff even here? He drove this young girl home, seemingly far out of his way, and then got out of the car to meet her friends.
Why?
At first, we think he might simply be friendly, or perhaps he’s possibly interested in Pussycat (which also adds to the unease, considering their lack of familiarity with one another and their age difference). But then…
It turns out Cliff knows exactly what he’s doing.
He knows the owner of this ranch, and he senses that something is off. In an upcoming post that breaks down the emotion of Unsettledness, I talk about the key difference between the emotion found here—uneasy—and unsettled as coming down to the main character’s grounding in the scene. Meaning, how confident is the protagonist?
Here, Cliff is self-assured and has a goal, which is not to make friends with this obvious cult, but to make sure everything is okay with someone from his past.
This slow reveal of Cliff’s goal in the scene adds a twist. However, that twist does nothing to relieve our sense of unease. If Cliff’s not going to play nice, if he’s there to question these people, are they all the more likely to turn on him? Is he in even greater danger?
Lesson 5: Drops of mysterious tension
Lessons 1-4 have proved the unease is already there. But why not up the tension even more with mysterious little drops?
For example, Gypsy sends someone on a mission to get one of the only men on the ranch. Why did she do this secretly? What does she want him for?
What about the random couple that is being led on a horseback ride? Clearly, the people who live on the ranch are outsiders, so this drop of normalcy actually acts as a red flag when plunked down in the middle of such an abnormal scene. What is this couple doing here? Are they in danger?
And, of course, the odd camera angles. These angles don’t start appearing until the middle of the scene and only happen sporadically. But they put us more on edge precisely because they are so sporadic and out of place.
Note: Yes, camera angles are unique to film and television, but this lesson provides a potential creative way to add the feeling of unease to a scene.
Could you suddenly phrase something in a different (and odd) way? Could you draw attention to something seemingly normal, but out of place in such a tension-filled scene? Could you use descriptive words that put the reader on edge because of the feelings they evoke?
Lesson 6: Keep it slow
Good pacing in a story requires fast moments, as well as moments that are slow. Picking the right moments to slow down can make all the difference.
In this scene, Tarantino is in absolutely no rush to move things along. This is a very strategic decision, as it draws out the tension and increases the feeling of unease.
Anytime you want to slow down a scene in your story, identify what emotion is most prevalent. Does it lend itself toward something more drawn out? Will drawing things out increase that particular emotion in the reader? Is that what you want?
Something like unease can be useful because it makes the reader uncomfortable in the best way possible, increasing their need to stick around in order to feel the tension resolve, and setting the stage for the rest of the story.
Any emotion that increases tension is likely to fit well in a slow scene. Longing, desire, uncertainty, fear, worry, unease—these are all emotions that pair beautifully with tension. Slowing down your story in the right spot in order to highlight these emotions will make an unforgettable (and very tense) scene.
Basically, don’t be afraid to draw the tension out.
Lesson 7: Built-in backstory
In this scene, the backstory of the Manson family is built into our collective knowledge. As such, we sense the tension and danger as soon as Cliff steps foot into their domain.
Of course, backstory doesn’t have to exist outside of your story. So long as it has been established before the scene with potential danger, the tension will be there.
Lesson 8: Acting strange
What if you got on the phone with your mother and asked about your dad, only to have her start giving strange, stilted, unconvincing answers?
Emotion would flood you. What’s wrong? Did something happen between you two? Did something happen to dad?
People acting strange is a natural red flag. It puts us on edge. So when Cliff begins asking about George, and the mood shifts and the girls look uncomfortable and start giving odd, unconvincing answers—our unease intensifies. They’re hiding something. They’re lying. They’re up to no good.
Something is off about this place, these people, this situation. Uh-oh.
Lesson 9: Knock the audience off balance with a lack of convention
A theme for many of these lessons is…keep it small.
So small that on its own you might miss it. You might not notice the one-off odd camera angle or the barking of the dogs in the background. But together, all of these small oddities add up, increasing the feeling of unease.
Another small thing you might not have picked out as peculiar, but when examined more closely adds to the unease of the situation, is the lack of convention.
Think about someone who picks their nose at the dinner table or isn’t wearing shoes as they walk down the street. Because they’re not adhering to typical etiquette/accepted behavior, we’re instantly put off, even if that unease is subconscious.
On some level, we can’t help but notice the split from convention and feel just a little…strange about it.
So when Pussycat is using so much physical contact with a stranger (one who is significantly older than her), our unease intensifies. When she greets Gyspy with such exaggerated physical contact, we can’t help but notice. Our attention perks just a little more.
Same with their unconventional names, as well as their overall living situation. So many young people living together on a middle-of-nowhere ranch? Something might be up. Or not. But we’re certainly taking notice. These small choices do the opposite of lulling us into a sense of calm.
Lesson 10: End with an unconventional twist...with a strategic purpose
This clip cuts off when the tension is at the highest in this scene, so I’ll go ahead and spoil the end of it here:
George is fine. He really is taking a nap.
This is a twist that resolves the tension, but in a brilliant way: we still know something is off, so we’re spending the rest of the film waiting for the other shoe to drop.
There are other ways you could twist the end of a scene like this, leaving that little bit of leftover discomfort in our gut.
Keeping the tension unresolved because Cliff hasn’t yet discovered the source of his unease is one strategic method that will—
extend our tension
establish the tone for the rest of the story
and get us to keep watching.
What is an unconventional twist you can employ to end a high-tension scene? Think about what question or emotion you want to leave quietly percolating for the rest of the story. It might be the opposite of what we expect, like in this scene, or a brand new development, or something else entirely.
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