Tension invariably grabs the audience’s attention, and it is simple to manipulate to gain the maximum effect. Introduce a problem and let it build. Allow the tension to grow until it becomes unbearable. Your goal is to induce discomfort. At some point you must release the tension and allow your reader a chance to catch their breath, but only once the tension has been allowed to grow to a satisfactory level. This rule can be extended from single scenes right across entire series—see it as one of the most powerful tools in your storytelling arsenal.

History has shown us that the stories that come closest to humanity’s timeless myths enjoy the strongest resonance with the audience, and thus the longest perennial success. Timeless myths can never be repeated too often because they touch on fundamental things about human psychology. As long as human nature ceases to change, these rules will continue to work. Accord with cultural myths and common human experiences to achieve a deep connection with your audience.

Audiences are especially good at spotting when you try to force the plot. Realising that you need to place some artificial decision or event just to make your plot work is a bad sign. Nothing ruins an audience’s immersion like an unrealistically idiotic decision by your character. Put yourself in the character’s shoes. What is your first instinct? What would you do? Choose that action for your character.

Regardless of genre, humour is always welcome. But a moment of levity is especially welcome when it distracts the reader away from a serious backdrop. A single, short, well-delivered line can make your audience forgive ten chapters of demure tragedy. Humour that pokes fun at your characters or some element of your story can be an indirect way of exposing some truth. It also reminds the audience they’re here to enjoy themselves, and shows them that you don’t take yourself too seriously.

Cut anything from your story that does not serve it. Any unnecessary parts will distract the audience from the important parts of your story. The best way to avoid fluff is to plan well and have a definite goal in mind before you start drafting. When editing your drafts, your goal is to get to a point where to remove any single paragraph, sentence, or word would cause the story to not make sense. Be concise both in your writing and the plot itself. Create an elegant flow from scene to scene by tightening down on every necessary detail.

Do not tread lightly when writing your plot’s twists and turns. Your readers want to be grabbed roughly by the arm and hurled headlong into a good story—be the one storyteller out of a hundred to give them that pleasure. Too many authors make timid decisions that end up ruining their work. Timidity betrays weakness of thought and a lack of planning. Avoid this fate by firmly pushing your story in a definite direction. Your best work will polarise your audience. Accept this fate, and never fear being disliked for the fallout of your bold narrative choices—usually the opposite is true.

A series of stories can only stand on strong foundations, built from the ground up. Boundless sums of money have been wasted attempting to create shared story universes where no such right has been earned. A multi-part series of stories can only exist when its constituent stories are entertaining, when they develop likeable characters, and most importantly, are self-contained. Build investment in your characters, then put them through hardship, and finally allow them to achieve catharsis. Once again, you must master the art of controlling potential energy—the longer the tension is drawn out, the more satisfying the feeling of catharsis upon its release.

For your story to have tension, you must create a legitimate threat to something that the characters care about. If your villain’s motives don’t spark any kind of real resistance from your hero, then there’s no threat. To create real emotional resonance in your audience’s hearts, your hero and villain must seek the same thing—this can be a literal object, or your villain can threaten something less tangible that your hero nevertheless deeply identifies with. Giving your hero and villain the same goal with opposing motives and alternate methods is a recipe for a great contest.

No one likes people who bumble carelessly through life, never learning from the variety of mistakes they make. Such people are lost causes, and we instinctively know to stay clear of them. In contrast, we admire people who learn from their mistakes and strive to improve themselves. People—and readers—are forgiving of flawed people making mistakes, but only so long as they see what they did wrong and never repeat it. Show your characters shaking off their old selves and stepping into new shoes. This personal metamorphosis can be the biggest source of the education that your story provides.

Stories don’t require a lot of material to work well. Do not underestimate the simple power of playing host to a cast of likeable characters all in conflict with one another. Most of us feel timid in our daily lives, afraid to rock the boat—this may work in real life, but in storytelling it is suicide. The most reliable way to improve any story is to dial up the conflict between its characters. No one wants to read a story about sweet characters on the same wavelength who agree on everything. Create sparks and don’t be afraid to start a fire.