Tension and stakes are two key components of storytelling, and they often go hand-in-hand: If you want to increase tension, you layer on stakes. And if you want to lessen tension, you remove stakes.
Typically when we consider tension and stakes, we look at them through a "negative" lens. They are about what could go wrong and what could be lost.
Tension is regularly confused with conflict, but they are two different things. Simplistically speaking, tension is the potential for problems, and conflict is the problem actually happening. Tension comes from anticipation.
Stakes are often defined as what the character has to lose, what is at risk in the story. I prefer to define them as potential consequences. They are what could happen, if a condition is met. For example, if Fred gets fired, then he'll lose his house. Losing his house is a potential consequence. His house is what is at risk in the story (along with his job, obviously). So, it is what is at stake.
In order to increase tension, we layer on more stakes. If Fred gets fired, then he'll lose his house and his wife. And if he loses his house, then he'll have to move in with his twin brother, who is an abusive jerk. And if he loses his wife, then Fred won't get to see his kids that often. Now, when Fred meets with his boss for an evaluation, we feel more tension, because so much is hinging on him keeping his job.
Usually in the writing community, when people talk about tension and stakes, they're referring to things going wrong. Fear is what typically keeps readers turning pages.
But the reality is, tension and stakes can also come from the positive: the potential for things to go right. And hope can sometimes be just as powerful as fear in creating page-turners.
The most obvious place this shows up is in romance. Not that the potential for things to go wrong isn't in romance, but rather, readers are more pulled in by the potential for things to go right. It's the chance the two characters may hug, kiss, confess their love for each other, get intimate, and have a happily-ever-after that keeps them reading. Sexual tension itself is often less about the fear of things going wrong, and more about the hope that things will go right.
I've been rewatching Stranger Things, and by season three, a strong attraction develops between Hopper and Joyce. What keeps me interested in their scenes isn't my fear that their relationship is going to crash and burn, so much as it's my desire that they will recognize and act on their developing feelings. Likewise, when I watch The X-Files, I'm never worried that Mulder and Scully are going to have a fallout. Instead, I'm hoping the feelings they have for each other will be realized and acted upon. That's what makes me hold my breath when Mulder pushes Scully's hair back.
If there is a fear in these scenes, it's a "small" fear that good things won't happen. It's that these desires won't become a reality. It's a fear that these characters won't get what they deserve. Or that they will go on living their lives as they are.
It's a tension that comes from wanting things to be better than they are.
This, of course, is not limited to romance and relationships.
Positive tension and stakes can be part of any story (though some genres, like romance or women's fiction, may use them more than others). You simply build it in by looking at "positive" potentials.
Instead of only conveying what your character has to lose, consider what your character has to gain. How is her personal life or her "world" going to be better if she achieves her goals? Too often writers convey only what could go wrong, and forget to communicate what could go right.
When we layer on positive potential consequences, we invite positive tension into the story.
If Megan gets this job promotion, she can move out of her parents' home and into her own place. And if she moves into her own place, that means she'll have the freedom to pursue her passion, art--something her parents discourage. She'll finally have the confidence to approach her crush. And she can get a dog (she's always wanted a French Bulldog). We layer, and layer, and layer on, and soon enough, we'll feel plenty of tension when she interviews for the position.
We want to keep reading because of the potential for things to go right.
That's the basic idea, anyway. Of course, what's most impactful will depend, to some degree, on your audience's personal tastes.
I also want to acknowledge that, to some degree, these are two sides of the same coin. Technically, I could reword Fred's situation so it sounds more positive: If Fred keeps his job, then he can keep his house and his wife, and he won't have to move in with his jerk brother. And I could likewise reword Megan's: If Megan doesn't get the job promotion, she'll be stuck living with her parents, feeling trapped and unable to pursue her passion--art.
And yet, sometimes there is a noticeable difference. Even if I reword Fred's, it's less about gaining something, and more about keeping something--which isn't automatically a problem, but it does feel a little less "positive."
And if we never consider positive stakes and tension, then our stories may not be as great as they could be. Often a strong conflict has both positive and negative potential consequences attached to it, so that the character has the chance to gain or lose something. Meaning, whatever the outcome, things won't be the same (i.e. a "Point of No Return"). For example, if Kris gets hired, she can finally have her dream job in New York City, but if she doesn't, she'll have to move in with Grandpa and work on his farm in Idaho (the type of work she finds soul-sucking).
And of course, we can get more complex than this--we can link positives and negatives together. If Kris gets hired, she can finally have her dream job in New York City (positive), but she'll have to break up with her high school sweetheart (negative), who can't travel that distance. Or, if Kris doesn't get hired, she'll have to move in with her grandpa and work on his farm (negative), but her boyfriend will be able to visit regularly (positive).
There are a few ways you can play with all this, but my point is, positive tension and positive stakes are absolutely a thing. You don't always have to turn to the negatives. In fact, in some stories, you may want to look at the positive potentials more than the negative ones.
Some page-turners are more about chasing the "carrot" of hope, than avoiding the "stick" of fear.
And before you go, I just wanted to share one more thing. I've been hard at work getting ready for my writing course, which starts in June. I've put together a new page on it, and I'd appreciate anyone willing to share it. It's a free thing you can do that helps me keep doing what I'm doing (including the blog).
If you are interested in the course, it will help you develop your best story--whether you are brainstorming, writing, revising, a "pantser," or a "plotter." And the method can be applied to any genre (fantasy, sci-fi, historical, romance etc.), any medium (novel, film, play, graphic novel, comic), any category (middle grade, young adult, adult)*. You'll get personalized feedback directly from me as I guide you on creating the best version of your tale.
And, well, you can learn more about it here.
Happy Writing!
(*I wouldn't recommend the course for picture books for young readers)
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