Hello. On one of my many writer loops, someone brought up a question about how we write suspense. In our books, we usually have a woman in jeopardy and a strong hero to help her get out of jeopardy, or we have someone she loves in danger and a strong hero to help her with that, too. Have you noticed not matter the danger, there is always a strong hero around? I love that part. Sigh. But let's not rule out our heroine. She, too, has to be strong and brave and willing to take matters into her own hands to survive. We try not to write those "dumber than dirt" characters who go into dark rooms in big, creepy houses without a flashlight, baseball bat or gun. Duh!
Too stupid to live. We try to make our heroines smart, sharp and working with a purposeful intent to catch the bad guys or clear her good name or to find the evidence that will bring down the corrupt people trying to ruin her life. See what fun we have. I compare this to going on a thrill ride. It's fun all the way!
Which brings me to the other part of this topic. What have you done in your own life that required you to be brave and sensible. I have a story that I promised to share about what happened to me one night long ago when we lived in Atlanta, GA. My husband worked at GM at night so my daughter and I were usually alone a lot. I can't remember why I was taking a late shower that night, but anyway, I got out of the shower and got dressed (thank goodness). Then I heard a noise downstairs in the kitchen of our townhouse. Of course, I got scared. My heart started racing and I immediately felt a fierce need to protect my sleeping child. Grabbing the first thing I could find--a large umbrella with a pointed tip, I headed downstairs (where the phone was also located in the kitchen, so no help there.) I could hear all sorts of noises. Someone was rummaging through my kitchen! The kitchen was a tiny efficiency so I had to go into the dining room and then turn into the kitchen to face the intruder. On the way, I checked the front door and windows. Nothing out of the ordinary there. The back door to the patio was also secure. How did they get in?
Saying a prayer, I decided I'd ambush them. I charged into the kitchen, prepared to stab them with the umbrella. Only to find a tiny mouse digging through the garbage can! Who knew a mouse could make such awful noise. I got the broom, opened the door to the patio and managed to run the mouse out of the house with a "Get out of here, you rodent!" That's just one example of the suspense in my own life. Anyone else had a scary experience that turned out to be nothing much?