How many times have you found yourself watching a horror movie or a thriller where the main character is about to unknowingly enter the room where the killer is lurking? You may sit there biting your nails in anticipation, or else you might just have a momentary flash of tension over what’s about to happen. I’ve been thinking about this dramatic trick a lot lately. I’m not sure why.

I actually first became acutely aware of it from watching stupid sitcoms like Friends several years ago. You sit there watching Ross about to say something totally dumb to Rachel, hoping he’s not going to do it, and then BAM! He does it anyway. It seems like this is really one of the most basic elements of drama:

You know what the character should do (or what you want them to do) and then they don’t do it.

Somehow the tension created by your expectations being flouted keeps you wanting more. The story arc then continues until either your desires for the character are resolved successfully or smashed beyond repair. The trick as an author seems to be to make either of these satisfying. And yet it’s all a delicate dance because if the character goes too far off course during the tense parts, you lose interest or feel betrayed somehow. Your suspension of disbelief is violated.

This principle plays out in the real world as well. Just look at how dramatic the days were leading up to last year’s election. People on one side hoped that their expectations would be fulfilled by Bush remaining in office. People on the other side experienced perhaps greater drama because they wanted Bush out, but he remained. It’s exactly the same as when Ross screws up his relationship with Rachel. It’s exciting, it’s exasperating.

I’d even wager that we do stuff like this to ourselves. One part of us, the observer, watches the other actor part of us and hopes that we’re going to do the right thing. And we get a certain dramatic thrill seeing whether or not we’re really able to pull that off in the end.

I’m sure there’s lots of interesting literary theory about all this, and if anybody knows a good simple resource, I’d enjoy reading some more on it. I found one item that has some useful stuff to say about what they call “the dramatic question“:

In a romance, will the girl get the guy? In an adventure, will the hero reach the goal? In a crime or murder mystery, who did it? When any of these questions are answered, the story is over.

They also have some neat things to say about about authors play with expectations in resolving the dramatic question:

A good author will make you think the central dramatic question was “Will the girl get the guy?” when it really was “Will the girl find happiness?”

Anyway, I’m not sure where I’m going with this line of thought. But it’s been whirling around in my head for over a week now, so it seemed like it was time to jot it down. Oh, I remember what got me originally thinking about it: back before I left I posted that piece about whether or not I should continue using the moniker of “occult investigator.” I got to thinking about how part of the fun of conversations is telling people what you think. In a lot of ways, giving advice is the same as shouting at the movie screen, “Don’t go in there! He’s got a gun!”