You’re probably wondering what microtension is, and what it has to do with fiction writing. Oddly, very little has been written on the topic, yet it’s an essential element that supercharges our writing.

No, it’s not the tension created by conflict or suspense in a story. Just as its name implies: it’s tension on a micro level—the level of words and phrases, and the level of subtle, tiny bits of tension created by surprise (or, what C. S. Lewis called surprisingness).

Microtension is the subtle, moment-by-moment tension woven into the language itself. While plot delivers the big dramatic turns, microtension keeps readers engaged through every line.

Writers often overlook this level, focusing instead on structure and story beats (which are important, no denying). But memorable, impactful fiction lives in the details—in the words, the imagery, and the phrasing.

Microtension via Setting Description

One of the most effective places to embed contradiction is in setting description. Too often, writers default to harmony: a sad character in a gloomy place, a joyful character in a sunny meadow. While this can work, it rarely surprises or piques a reader’s curiosity. Microtension sharpens when the setting either mirrors the character’s internal state too perfectly—almost mockingly—or directly contradicts it.

Microtension is created through contradictions between a character’s internal state and the setting around them. Readers naturally expect the setting to reinforce the mood. But when those expectations are disrupted, it carves a microtension pathway.

How to Create Dissonance with Setting

Instead of defaulting to harmony, it helps to pause and consider the relationship between environment and emotion. Does the setting reflect what the character feels, or can you portray it in sharp contrast to those feelings?

During revision, it’s worth looking closely at moments that feel emotionally consistent or too neatly aligned. These are often opportunities for contradiction.

Writers can create microtension by connecting small environmental details to a character’s inner conflict. A description isn’t neutral—it’s filtered through the POV character’s perception (or, at least, it should be). When a character’s emotions are unsettled, even ordinary surroundings can feel slightly off. A pleasant or neutral setting may contain small elements that disturb the mood, or the character may interpret otherwise harmless details as threatening.

Another effective technique is to give the character mixed feelings about the setting itself. She might be drawn to it and wary of it at the same time. This internal push-pull infuses otherwise quiet moments with tension.

In the novel Vita Nostra by Marina and Sergey Dyachenko, a girl named Sasha is experiencing a growing discomfort about a man in the marketplace who, she is sure, has been watching her. She and her mother pass him on their way to the beach.

Once settled on the shore, they rented a beach chair and placed it in the usual spot, but for the first time, Sasha did not feel like swimming. She wanted to return home and lock herself up in the apartment. Although, if she thought about it, the door in the apartment was flimsy, made of plywood, a mere illusion covered with ancient faux leather. It was safer here, on the beach, crowded and noisy, with inflatable mattresses floating in the water; a little boy stood knee-deep in the water, and the floatie around his belly was shaped like a swan with a long neck, and the boy was squeezing its pliant white throat.

Sasha is clearly disturbed, and the authors drop in words like flimsy and plywood, illusion and faux (fake). All words that subconsciously hint that her safety is tenuous. Her vulnerability is driven home by the surprising description of how a little boy is holding his floatie—it smacks of danger and violence, incongruous with the fragile, white (think: innocence) throat. It’s a small, brief detail, but it creates powerful microtension in that moment as Sasha’s mood and mindset are reflected in how she observes this harmless boy.

In the opening of the blockbuster psychological thriller Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn, we get this strange thought in Nick’s head that seems to be interrupting the typical “wake up in the morning” ritual we tend to experience each day:

The sun climbed over the skyline of oaks, revealing its full summer angry-god self. Its reflection flared across the river toward our house, a long blaring finger aimed at me through our frail bedroom curtains. Accusing: You have been seen. You will be seen.

The sun is not warming, bright, and inviting; it’s angry, accusatory. We are immediately piqued with curiosity. What is Nick feeling guilty about? What has he done? That alone might get many readers turning pages. Describing the sun as angry and watching and pointing at him (personification), juxtaposed with the word frail (which perhaps hints at the condition of his marriage or his ability to keep his secrets hidden), is microtension.

Here’s a passage from Max Barry’s Lexicon. The POV character, Wil, has been kidnapped and drugged at an airport, but he manages to break away from his captors. Notice the way Wil’s mind jumps about and lands on a weird setting detail.

Run, Wil thought, and yes, that was a solid idea. He found his feet and ran for the exit. In the glass he saw a wild-eyed man and realized it was him. He heard yelps and alarmed voices, possibly the tall man getting up, who had a shotgun, Wil recalled now, a shotgun, which was not the kind of thing you would think could slip your memory.

He stumbled out into an ocean of bright frightened faces and open mouths. It was hard to remember what he was doing. His legs threatened treachery but the motion was good, helping to clear his head. He saw escalators and forged toward them. His back sang with potential shotgun impacts, but the airport people were being very good about moving out of his way, practically throwing themselves aside, for which he was grateful. He reached the escalators but his roller skate feet kept going and he fell flat on his back. The ceiling moved slowly by. The tiles up there were filthy. They were seriously disgusting.

Nearly every line of this author’s scenes has some surprising, unexpected element, whether it’s in the word choice and imagery (an ocean of frightened faces and open mouths; his back sang with potential shotgun impacts), the rapidly shifting emotions and juxtaposition of his fear with his confidence and even gratitude, or the strange shift in Wil’s attention as he muses over the filthy tiles on the ceiling as he’s lying on his back on the escalator (also a surprising and fresh action). Readers are kept glued to this story because every page is full of delightful surprises.

When we study the works of microtension masters, like Barry, we begin to see how the many pathways intersect and build a strong net that undergirds and supercharges powerful writing.

Setting is just one microtension pathway fiction writers can use to supercharge their writing. Look for key moments in your scenes when your character can interact with her setting, either reinforcing or mirroring her mood or mindset or clashing in contrast.

Remember: microtension works at that micro level of words and phrases. Brainstorm and cluster words and phrases to add microtension to your pages and see how “sticky” they become!


C. S. Lakin is a book copyeditor, writing coach, and the author of more than thirty books (fiction and nonfiction). Her Writer’s Toolbox Series and online video courses at cslakin.teachable.com have helped thousands of fiction writers pen unforgettable novels.

Check out her new release, Masterful Microtension: The Essential Element of Powerful Fiction, which provides the only extensive instruction on microtension published to date. You can find this book, and all the volumes in the Writer’s Toolbox Series, online at Amazon and all other bookselling venues.

Guest Contributor

Interested in posting at Writers Helping Writers? Review our content guidelines to see what we’re looking for and how to pitch us your ideas.

2 Comments. Leave new

  • I hadn’t heard of microtension before, but in your descriptions, I recognize it as something that I’ve found deeply appealing in the books I’ve read. Thanks for teaching me something new!

    Reply
  • The right details power a story., no doubt about it. Great examples—love “sticky bits” too!

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Fill out this field
Fill out this field
Please enter a valid email address.
You need to agree with the terms to proceed