He explains: “I had the chance to lock Meg in a room for a few weeks while I subjected her to a battery of psychological tests in the form of ‘interview questions,’ and below are the results of that experiment.”
Why do you tell stories?
Because holding people’s suspended disbelief in my hands is a beautiful, powerful kick. And when those people gasp, or laugh, or throw my book across the room, I think, Yeah. Thank you. Now tell me a story that makes me feel the same way.
So: how do you suspend someone’s disbelief? Any tricks?
I stand before a mirror in a darkened room and chant, “Chuck Wendig, Chuck Wendig, Chuck Wendig.”
- Create characters who talk and laugh and ache like people we know in real life.
- Keep the pace up. Readers who are flipping pages to see what happens next do not pause to mull the metaphysical unreality of fiction.
- Don’t commit any howlers. “Queen Elizabeth leaned out the window of the taxi, hoisted the Uzi, and cleared London traffic in her usual way.” Oh, come on. The Queen would never take a taxi.