Stack the Stakes. The Technique Behind Unputdownable Books

We’ve been talking about unputdownable ideas (read:stakes) for weeks now. Threaten the character’s reputation, check. Put them in mortal danger, check. Make them homeless if it all falls apart, check. But what if you stacked them together and really made the shit hit the fan?

Want to learn about the 11 narrative stakes, and get extra recommendations for the books that absolutely nail it? We recently led a workshop on just that subject, and it’s available (along with a template and 40+ book and short story comps) as video on demand right here, right now.

The stakes are what makes a book unputdownable. They take a story from just OK to holy shit, I stayed up until 4am reading. When you stack stakes on top of each other, the struggle starts to feel insurmountable. Impossible. As if there’s no way this character can win. So when they do, it’s delicious. And when they don’t, we’re still satisfied because we understand intimately what it’s cost them.

There are two ways to go about this.

Even when you win, you lose

Let’s head back to my favorite guilty pleasure show, Bridgerton, and my favorite season so far, 4. Now, if you haven’t seen season 4, I’m going to spoil it. But also, if you haven’t seen season 4, what the hell are you doing with your life? Moving on! I know this isn’t a book, it’s a show based on a series of books, but this storytelling principle still applies. And the odds of you having watched the show are infinitely greater, so…. onward.

Benedict Bridgerton, our favorite free spirit, bohemian artist, bisexual, hunky brother has finally fallen in love. For real. Who’d have guessed it? Well, none of us, but here we are and he’s in LOVE love with a maid named Sophie.

Only he can’t be in love with a maid because he’s a nobleman, and society’s rules say no, no, no. Think of the scandal! This union could impact his younger sisters’ marriage prospects, and jeopardize the entire family’s standing, and yet. Did I mention he’s down bad for this girl? And honestly, she’s the freaking best.

Reputation stakes are at play for both characters, and this is where we see Benedict caught between a rock and hard spot. So he does the only thing he thinks he can do in his position. The only thing polite society will allow him to do. He asks her to be his mistress.

“Duuuuude.” – Me.

Obviously, she refuses him. No one wants to be kept a secret, as his friend Will clearly explains to him, but now what? He’s the internet’s favorite Bridgerton brother, and he’s on the edge of getting everything we could ever want for him, but he can’t have it unless….

He marries her anyway, society be damned! And he starts planning to do so. This isn’t the best situation, but they’ll be together. They’ll live at his country estate and he’ll travel back and forth to London to see the fam. Or so he thinks. But of course it can’t be tied up that neatly.

If he chooses love and marries Sophie, they’ll be exiled from the city and society will punish the family if they think they’re still close. The ask is enormous, and what will that mean for their future, and future children? Now the stakes of that decision stretch into later generations. Oy!

Of course, it all worked out in the end and they get their happily ever after, but for 7 episodes, we were sweating bullets trying to figure out how the hell it would. And if it didn’t work out, we would’ve been gutted but we also would’ve understood the impossible nature of their circumstances.

Stacking stakes like this works because even when the character gets what they want, marriage to the love of his life in this case, the cost is still astronomical. The damned if you do, damned if you don’t conundrum. Forcing a character into a seeming no-win situation, makes the reader grip the page. Or in this case, binge the season.

When the first loss is really just the first domino to fall

Back to Bridgerton because we’re on a roll, and we’ll stick with Season 4. Now, the reason our dear Sophie has outright refused Benedict’s offer to be his mistress is because her mother was her father’s mistress. She’s an illegitimate child, herself, and is living the consequences of that every day.

If she says yes, she’ll lose her reputation as a maid, where she’s respected and can at least make her own way. Even though she loves him, she can’t say yes because saying yes means the first domino would fall. She’d lose her reputation, her chance at a livelihood, her financial security, and on and on. And if there are children in the mix?

She knows what it’s like to be that child and to serve the people who live in your own house. AKA the Earl’s new terrible wife and godawful stepmother. There’s no way she’d put a child through that, or struggle to provide for them should the mistress arrangement fall apart. But hot damn, she loves him. And even after a steamy romp, she still has to say no.

Only now she knows exactly what she’s losing by doing so. Stacking stakes like dominos works when one character would benefit enormously if everything worked out, and they desperately want it to. Or when they’ve gotten a hint that it might, or a taste of what it could be like if it did. Those are painful stakes to navigate for our character and tension inducing for the reader.

I’m happy Sophie got the fairytale ending, but if she had to forsake Benedict forever, I would’ve totally understood why. Then the ending is satisfying in a heartbreaking way.

So. Look at the costs associated with winning and see how you can stack the stakes in your story to make it agonizingly delicious for your readers.

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Why Life & Death Stakes Work in Historical Fiction

The highest stakes of all aren’t always the right ones for your story, but when they work, they WORK.

If anyone is going to pull a tarot card to see if she should travel solo around the world with nothing but a laptop, a passport, and a backpack full of underwear, it’s your girl. Will we die? Probably not. The stakes of life and death have to very real and present in order to freak me out. In life, and especially in fiction.

Want to learn about the 10 other narrative stakes, and get extra recommendations for the books that absolutely nail it? We’re leading our first workshop – What’s At Stake: How Unputdownable Novels Keep You Hooked– July 30th! RSVP now.

In historical fiction, we see these stakes crop up all the time. And I blame the glut of WWII Hist Fic for this because most of those stories are about spies, escaping a camp, an occupying regime, or a small town overrun by the enemy who is equal parts a handsome soldier and a muhfu*kin killer in a crow’s nest training his Mauser at me.

Escape is a big theme in Hist Fic and not just WWII. Characters Women are trying to escape orphanages, a slave patrol, the patriarchy. If your narrative involves escape in any way, life and death stakes are almost a given, but they aren’t required. Let’s break down when these stakes work and when they don’t.

Before we dive in, if you’re wondering what the difference is between stakes and plot, you’re not alone. It’s a common question and once you understand the difference, you’ll take your story to a whole new level.

When the Stakes of Life and Death Work

In order for the stakes of life and death to work, the reader has to not only be invested in the character, but also their situation and story. They have to feel some kind of solidarity with this character, which is a good thing to create regardless, but here it’s essential. The reader must think that if this character does die in the end, that it would be heroic or valiant, or worth erecting a statue in their likeness in the town square. More than anything, this character’s death should mean something. Either way, they’ll be devastated or outraged if it happens.

A great example: A Gentleman in Moscow, by Amor Towles*

You didn’t really think we were going to get through a post like this without talking about this book did you? I use it as an example of how get through your novel’s saggy middle, and again when we’re using maps to make our book come alive. It’s a banger.

In AGIM, our protagonist is facing life or death. Take one step out of the Metropol Hotel, Count Rostov, and it’s curtains for you. Now, in order for us to become invested in these stakes, we must already be very invested in Count Rostov, his situation, and how we’d feel if he was to meet the firing squad. We’re introduced to him at his trial, which at first glance might put us at odds with him, but no. We see very clearly that Rostov is right to mock this sham Bolshevik tribunal, where he’s been charged with being an unrepentant aristocrat. A social parasite of the new order! The. Nerve. And it’s all because of a subversive poem that’s been attributed to him.

This whole farce puts us instantly at odds with the antagonists. We see how ridiculous their display of power is, and how desperately the regime is trying to make this offense important. But no matter how absurd we might find this whole charade, we also know that Rostov is up against a government that absolutely has the power to follow through. His world and situation, no matter how eye-roll inducing, supports these stakes.

Rostov’s stakes are levied in 1922, decades before WWII, but when we think of life and death stakes in these terms, it’s easy to see why they’re used so often in WWII historical fiction. Most of the characters are facing a regime that will absolutely cut them down. They’re in the middle of a war, where that’s the standard operating procedure, and so it makes these stakes low hanging fruit. They’re devastating consequences that don’t ask the reader to make a huge leap in order to believe them.

A great example: The Invisible Bridge by Julie Orringer*

Set in both Paris and Budapest, we follow a Jewish-Hungarian architecture student as he falls in love in Paris, and returns to Hungary to help his family in the middle of WWII. The story pulls on the threads of life and death as we watch the horrors of the war unfold, and the devastating impact of the holocaust and the camps, play out in the second half of the book. When every paragraph has the power to erase characters from the narrative altogether, we sit up and take note.

Here it works because not only do we like our main character and his family, the reader also has internal motivation to cheer him on. Moral outrage over the whole war, the genocide, and the destruction of an entire people, is a strong engine that propels us through. If this character survives, the reader also gets to experience good prevailing over evil, and a small part of them feels that redemptive middle finger as they stick it to the N*zis. Plus we also see what this character stands to lose. Love. And ugh, we can’t bear to witness that one.

*This is an affiliate link with Bookshop.org, which means we may receive compensation if you click on it to make a purchase. This comes at no additional cost to you, and no financial support to Jeff Bezos which is the REAL win here.

Want to learn about the 10 other narrative stakes, and get extra recommendations for the books that absolutely nail it? We’re leading our first workshop – What’s At Stake: How Unputdownable Novels Keep You Hooked– at the end of July! RSVP now.

You can also:

When Life or Death doesn’t work

When the story would be far more interesting if the character was banished or exiled, or hauled into court and charged for the crimes they’ve been named in over a million times in a tranche of files that have been kept from the proletariat for an ever changing number of reasons, and the character was then found guilty of treason, and their entire cabinet was removed and a new government was installed. Just spitballing here.

We also must believe that the antagonist has the capability and conviction to see their death threat through, and their reasons for doing so are believable. We don’t have to understand those reasons or even agree with them, but we have to believe that the villain does and that they’ll absolutely pull the trigger. The world must support this threat and do it credibly.

If the character dies, and it doesn’t fundamentally alter the direction of the story or the lives of the other characters, these aren’t the correct stakes. These are the highest stakes of all, and if they’re going to be in play then nothing can ever be the same if they’re met.

If Rostov lives, it’s because he’s trapped in a hotel for the rest of his life OR he’ll have to chance death on the streets of Moscow in an attempt to defect. (A Gentleman in Moscow)

If Andras dies in the camps, he’ll leave his wife and family behind. His personal dreams, and those of his brothers, are so delicate and human it would shatter his family. Not to mention the reader’s heart. (The Invisible Bridge)

At the start of their books, neither of these characters have a viable alternative to their current course of action. The stakes work because no matter how doomed their lives seem, they must carry on.

Resolving Life and Death

Let them live for crying out loud! While that would be the easiest and most straightforward answer through this, adding a second element always sweetens the outcome when the character lives. The sweetest of all is justice, revenge, or a lil comeuppance to our antagonists. That can take the form of a trial in a court room epilogue, or by heaving the villain off a bridge by their lapels. But it can also be that our protagonist not only survives, but thrives in the aftermath. They find love where they should’ve never found it. Success, freedom, or peace.

Life or death is the kind of punishment that’s doled out by a character who wants to erase or fundamentally harm another character. They want them to suffer mental and physical anguish, and enjoy breaking someone spiritually. So when that character survives and also flourishes a little? Well, that’s a big thumb in the eye to the bad guys and leaves the reader satisfied that order has been restored. After all we’ve been through with this character we want to see them come out the other side and land on top for once.

A word of warning: Your characters can receive help along the way, but they’ve got to be the one to give themselves life over death. If someone swoops in at the last minute to save them from it all, it’s disappointing for the reader. They’ll be left thinking, why did we just go through all of that for it to be resolved by a character I don’t know, or some force that was latent and lingering in the background? It’s the emotional connection that readers have with the characters that makes the resolution satisfying or not. So if at all possible, let your protagonist pull themselves out of the situation they’ve found themselves in, or be the one that made their own survival possible.

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Plot is What Happens. Stakes Are Why You Care. Integrate Them and Your Readers Will Be Hooked.

There’s a big difference, and here’s why you should care

Back in the ivory tower days, I ran workshops as part of my creative writing classes. As one does. Not only is workshop feedback massively helpful, but it also showed me where my students had knowledge gaps. Where they instinctually knew something was off, but they couldn’t quite put it into words.

Understanding the stakes, and why they matter even more than plot, was almost like a black hole in their vocabulary. It was something they simply couldn’t articulate. Most of my students would ramp up their plots, add more twists and danger, and still get the same feedback.

If you’re hearing this, you probably have a stakes problem.

  • There’s a lot going on in this book, but I’m not sure why.
  • I like this character a lot, but I feel like something’s missing.
  • But why? Why is the character making this choice? And…?

All of these comments are saying the same thing – give me a reason to invest in this character and this story. They’re asking, what are the stakes if they don’t succeed? Or even if they do.

So… What’s the difference between stakes and plot? First, we’ll talk about the devil we know.

Plot

Plot is external pressure OR Things That Happen

Plot is what drives the story forward, and is almost always comprised of what the character wants and the obstacles that stand in the way of them getting it.

Plot also tests characters and helps contribute widely to their character arc, all because of the stakes of the story. So when readers are saying, Yeah, OK, But WHY? It’s because all they’re seeing is plot point after plot point.

As a plot-driven writer, I say this with my whole chest. Plot is epic, but it’s not worth the paper its printed on if it’s not holding hands with the Stakes.

Stakes

Stakes are internal pressure OR The Costs Associated with the Outcome

If plot is the action, stakes are the consequences. The tradeoffs, the fallout, and the impossible decisions. They’re made up of the sacrifices your character must make in order to advance the plot. The social territory they must traverse in order to succeed.

And without putting your character through some terrible shit, there’s no character arc or satisfying conclusion. But those plot points must test the stakes, and put your character in a position where they must choose between two terrible options.

Imagine Bridgerton. Any season will work. The fair and wildly sought after Bridgerton offspring enters the marriage mart, plucks the diamond from the group, and heads straight to the altar. Yes, we still have the amazing soundtrack and the sumptuous set design and the brilliant casting.

But without the threat of being ruined, or falling into a marriage with someone who may be the diamond of the season but they’re the worst match, or there’s a secret that, if spilled, could cause a massive scandal and ruin the entire family, or class being a seemingly insurmountable obstacle, what’s the effing point? I mean, it’s a gorgeous wedding and all, but…

We would be giving the same feedback.

  • There’s a lot going on in this show, but I’m not sure why.
  • I like this character a lot, but I feel like something’s missing.
  • But why? Why is the character making this choice? And…?

Now, how high you want to make these stakes is up to you. There are 11 types of stakes that always work, and if you want to know more about them and how to deploy them in your work, we’re running a workshop on this very subject on July 30th.

You’ll learn how to diagnose your own work, which stakes might work best for your story, and how to stack them for max effectiveness. There’s even a worksheet. Because of course of there is.

 

Join our Writing Community Hour over on The Rogue MFA YouTube channel (which meets every other Thursday evening at 4pm PST/ 7pm EST), where we’ll be building routine and community with YOU. Subscribe to get notified, and if you’re even a little bit interested, please fill out our quick survey so we can expand these in the future with you in mind.

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