You know that feeling when you tell a juicy story to a friend, and just when they lean in, wide-eyed, you… stop? You sip your coffee. You let the silence hang. You watch them squirm. That, my fellow writer, is tension. And it’s one of the most underrated superpowers in storytelling.

The problem? Most writers think tension equals conflict. Not true. Conflict is when things happen. Tension is when the reader can’t relax because something might happen. It’s the low hum of unease, the unspoken dread, the quickening heartbeat on page 42 that keeps them turning to page 43.

So how do you keep that tension simmering without exhausting your reader or letting the story sag? Here are five ways:

Withhold Information (But Don’t Cheat)

Readers don’t need to know everything right away. In fact, they shouldn’t. Drip-feed your details. A cryptic remark, a half-hidden letter, a suspicious look—these small gaps make readers desperate to fill them.

Before:
She walked into the room and saw her brother sitting there, alive and well.

After:
She walked into the room—and froze. The last person she expected to see was sitting there, grinning at her.

In the “before,” the scene is over before it starts. In the “after,” you’ve created space for questions: Why didn’t she expect him? Wasn’t he supposed to be dead? What does that grin mean? The unanswered is the engine of tension.

Layer Conflicting Emotions

Tension thrives in contradictions. Give your characters feelings that pull them in opposite directions, and the reader feels the stretch.

Before:
Ravi loved Maya deeply. He couldn’t imagine life without her.

After:
Ravi loved Maya deeply. But every time he caught her whispering on the phone, a cold coil of suspicion tightened in his chest.

Now the reader isn’t just watching a romance—they’re holding their breath to see which way it will tilt: toward love, or betrayal.

Raise Stakes in Small Increments

Big explosions aren’t tense. Creeping dread is. Build up the heat one notch at a time. Think frog in a slowly boiling pot, not frog in a frying pan.

Before:
The bridge collapsed suddenly, leaving everyone stranded.

After:
First came the low groan of shifting steel. Then a crack zig-zagged across the asphalt. By the time the first car wheel dipped into the widening gap, people were screaming.

Notice how the second version delays the climax—forcing the reader to squirm through the escalation.

Use Setting as a Pressure Cooker

Don’t underestimate atmosphere. A stormy night, a locked office, an overheated courtroom—they can all work as invisible hands tightening around your reader’s throat.

Before:
She waited in the lobby for her interview.

After:
The air conditioner was broken. Sweat trickled down her spine as the receptionist tapped a pen, sharp and rhythmic, against the desk. A wall clock ticked louder than it had any right to.

The environment itself adds to her nerves—and yours.

End Scenes with an Open Loop

Never give your reader the luxury of exhaling at the end of a chapter. A cliffhanger doesn’t need to be life-or-death; it can be as simple as an unfinished thought, a door creaking open, or a phone buzzing unanswered.

Before:
He drifted off to sleep, content that the day was finally over.

After:
He drifted off to sleep, unaware of the shadow that had just slipped into his room.

That single shadow? Enough to make a reader swear and read “just one more page.”

Wrapping Up

Maintaining tension isn’t about non-stop action. It’s about managing the reader’s heartbeat—fast, slow, fast again. It’s the literary equivalent of a violin string: keep it taut, keep it vibrating, but don’t snap it.

The best stories don’t let you relax until the very last line. And when you master tension, your readers will love you for the sleepless nights.

Contact me if you want hands-on help with your writing. 

Mother of three adult humans. An idealistic, outspoken woman of scrupulous integrity, in love with words. A storyteller who enjoys crocheting tales. And a passionate bibliophile, of course.