What makes a story stick with you? The kind you can’t stop reading, can’t stop thinking about, and maybe even wish you’d written yourself? It usually comes down to three key ingredients: conflict, stakes, and tension.
These elements aren’t just add-ons—they’re the backbone of storytelling. Conflict gets the plot moving, stakes give it emotional weight, and tension keeps readers hanging on every word. In this guide, we’ll unpack how each one works, why they matter so much, and how to use them together to craft stories that truly grip your audience.
Understanding Conflict: The Heart of Every Story
At the core of every great story is one simple truth: something has to go wrong.
Conflict is what gives your story a pulse. Without it, there’s no struggle, no pressure, no reason for readers to stick around. A story where everything’s fine and everyone gets along? That’s not a story—it’s a vibe. And not a very interesting one.
Conflict is what drives your story. It sparks curiosity, pushes characters to grow (or fall apart), and gives your plot its shape. Let’s dig into why it matters so much—and how to use it to your full advantage.
Conflict Creates Engagement
Conflict introduces a problem. And problems need solutions. That’s what pulls readers in—they want to know what happens next. Will your character rise to the occasion? Will things fall apart?
Think of it like sports. Even if you’re not a fan, you know what keeps people glued to the game: two sides in opposition, something big on the line, and uncertainty about who’s going to win. That’s conflict in action. And from it, we get stakes (what matters) and tension (what might happen)—but more on those later.
No conflict? No stakes. No tension. No reason to care.
Conflict Drives Character Growth
When things go wrong, your characters are forced to act. They make tough calls. They wrestle with fears, flaws, and sometimes each other. That’s where character growth lives—not in calm waters, but in the storm.
Conflict is what reveals who your characters really are. It challenges them, stretches them, and sometimes breaks them. Every bold choice, every painful mistake, every relationship tested—that’s all rooted in conflict.
Want rich, layered characters? Put them through something that demands change.
Conflict Shapes Your Story’s Structure
Your story doesn’t really start until conflict enters the picture. That’s when the normal gets disrupted, and your characters have to respond. That response creates momentum—and that momentum becomes your story.
From the first crack in the status quo, through rising tensions and complications, all the way to the climax and resolution—conflict is the thread tying it all together. It’s not just part of your story structure. It is the structure.
Types of Conflict
There are two broad categories of conflict in storytelling:
- External Conflict: Forces outside the character—other people, nature, society, the supernatural.
- Internal Conflict: Emotional or psychological battles happening inside the character.
Let’s get a little more specific. Here are some classic types of conflict and what they bring to the table:
- Character vs. Self: Inner struggles, doubts, or moral dilemmas (e.g. Hamlet).
- Character vs. Character: A clash between two people (e.g. Sherlock Holmes vs. Moriarty).
- Character vs. Society: Going against norms, systems, or oppression (e.g. The Hunger Games).
- Character vs. Nature: Battling the elements, survival stories (e.g. The Revenant).
- Character vs. Supernatural: Magic, ghosts, gods, curses (e.g. Stranger Things).
- Character vs. Technology: Sci-fi classics—AI, machines, or scientific threats (e.g. The Terminator).
Each one challenges your characters in unique ways—and the best stories often don’t stick to just one.
Layering Conflict
Real life is messy. So are great stories.
Instead of relying on a single conflict, strong narratives weave together multiple types—external and internal, personal and societal. That layering makes everything feel deeper, more real.
Take The Hunger Games. Katniss fights for survival (vs. others), wrestles with her conscience (vs. self), and becomes a symbol of rebellion (vs. society). That triple-threat of conflict creates a richer, more emotionally charged story—and gives her choices serious weight.
Layered conflict doesn’t just raise the stakes. It makes your story feel alive.
The Role of Stakes: Why They Matter
Conflict gets your story moving—but stakes are what make it matter.
Stakes are the “why” behind the struggle. Why does this conflict matter to your character? What happens if they lose—or if they win? If there’s nothing on the line, there’s nothing to care about. And if readers don’t care, they won’t stick around.
The higher the stakes, the more intense the conflict feels. Stakes bring urgency, weight, and emotional punch. They make every decision count and every scene feel like it means something.
Because if your character has something real to lose, they have to act. They can’t coast. They have to make choices, take risks, and fight for what matters—whether that’s survival, love, redemption, or just making it through the day.
Types of Stakes
Stakes aren’t one-size-fits-all. They can be big or small, physical or emotional, global or deeply personal. What matters is that they feel real to your character—and by extension, to your reader.
Here are a few types of stakes you can mix and match to give your story depth and drive:
- Personal Stakes: The protagonist’s happiness, relationships, identity, or future is on the line. (Will they win the love of their life?)
- Physical Stakes: Life and limb are at risk. (Will they survive the crash, the fight, the fire?)
- Emotional Stakes: Heartbreak, guilt, betrayal, fear—the stuff that tears you up inside. (Will they face the truth they’ve been running from?)
- Moral Stakes: Your character has to choose between right and wrong—or between two bad options. (Will they betray their values to protect someone they love?)
- Societal Stakes: The fate of a group, a community, or an entire world. (Will they stop the regime, expose the lie, or spark a revolution?)
- Existential Stakes: These cut deep—questioning purpose, identity, or meaning itself. (Will they figure out who they really are?)
The best stories usually combine more than one kind. A fight for survival might also be a fight for redemption. A political rebellion could hinge on personal grief or guilt. Layering different types of stakes creates richer, more emotionally charged storytelling.
Why Personal Stakes Hit Harder
Big, world-ending stakes are cool—but they’re not enough on their own. What really lands with readers is personal stakes. Something close to the heart. Something that hurts if it’s lost.
It’s not just “Will they save the kingdom?” It’s “Can they save the kingdom and still protect the people they love?” or “What will it cost them to win?”
Readers don’t just care about what happens. They care about who it happens to. So even if the stakes are huge, they need to feel intimate. Grounded. Human.
That’s what makes the emotional payoff (or gut-punch) at the end hit so much harder. The character isn’t just fighting for something—they’re fighting for something that defines them.
Building Tension: Keeping Readers on Edge
If conflict drives your story and stakes give it weight, tension is what keeps your readers glued to the page.
Tension is that electric feeling that something’s about to happen. It can be dread, excitement, anticipation—or all three at once. And the best part? It doesn’t need explosions or chase scenes to work. A whispered secret, a long pause, a door left slightly open—these can be just as nerve-wracking as a gunfight if you set them up right.
Tension thrives in the unknown. It lives in subtext, in hesitation, in the space between what a character knows and what they don’t. It’s not about chaos. It’s about waiting for chaos to strike.
The Psychology of Tension
Tension works because it taps into how our brains are wired. We crave answers. We want resolution. And when a story withholds that resolution just long enough, it keeps us emotionally locked in.
Here’s how:
Anticipation
Something is coming. We can feel it. We just don’t know when, or how, or what it’s going to do when it gets here.
That’s anticipation—and it’s one of the strongest ways to build tension. Whether it’s a big reveal, a confrontation, or an explosion waiting to go off (literally or metaphorically), it keeps readers perched on the edge of their seat.
Why it works:
- Our brains want closure—so the longer we wait, the more invested we get.
- A well-placed hint gives our imagination room to run wild.
- The payoff feels bigger when it’s been building slowly.
Example: Jurassic Park doesn’t show us the T-Rex right away. We hear the thudding footsteps. We see water rippling in a cup. That slow build cranks the tension way up before the dinosaur even shows up.
Uncertainty
Tension thrives when we don’t have all the answers. Who’s lying? Who’s hiding something? What’s about to go horribly wrong?
When readers are kept in the dark—or given just enough light to see the shadows—it creates a sense of unease that keeps them turning pages.
Why it works:
- We’re hardwired to hate not knowing. Uncertainty makes us anxious (in a good way).
- We start questioning everything, which keeps us alert and engaged.
- Surprises land harder when we’re unsure what to expect.
Example: In Gone Girl, the audience is constantly wondering: What happened to Amy? Who’s telling the truth? Every new clue shifts our trust, which keeps the tension tight.
Dramatic Irony (a.k.a. When Readers Know More Than the Characters)
Sometimes, your audience knows something your characters don’t—and that creates a whole different kind of tension. It’s like yelling “Don’t go in there!” during a horror movie, even though you know they will.
Why it works:
- Readers feel like insiders, which makes them more emotionally involved.
- Ordinary scenes become suspenseful when we know what’s really going on.
- The tension isn’t just what will happen—it’s when and how the truth will come out.
Example: In Breaking Bad, we know Gus wants to kill Walter long before Walter does. Every scene between them drips with tension, because we’re waiting for the hammer to drop.
Techniques to Create and Sustain Tension
Tension isn’t just a one-time thing. It should ebb and flow, rise and fall—but always linger. Here are a few tried-and-true ways to dial it up:
- Unanswered Questions: Keep the reader guessing. Who can be trusted? What’s really going on?
- Time Pressure: Add a ticking clock—literal or metaphorical. The less time your characters have, the more urgent everything feels.
- Slow Reveals: Don’t show your cards all at once. Tease out big truths piece by piece.
- Foreshadowing: Drop little hints that something’s coming. Just enough to make readers nervous.
- Cliffhangers: End scenes or chapters mid-question. Don’t give them a choice but to keep reading.
- Conflicting Motivations: Let characters work at cross-purposes. It creates built-in tension without needing a villain.
- Escalating Danger: Keep raising the stakes. It’s not just a problem—it’s a problem that’s getting worse.
Tension isn’t about noise or chaos. It’s about pressure. About uncertainty. About holding back just enough to make your readers feel that twinge in their chest, that flicker of “what if…”
Master that, and your story won’t just be read—it’ll be devoured.
Key Takeaways
- Conflict is the engine of your story. It’s what gets things moving, challenges your characters, and keeps readers engaged. No conflict? No story.
- Stakes make conflict matter. They answer the question: Why does this struggle matter? The more personal and meaningful the stakes, the more invested your audience will be.
- Tension keeps readers on edge. It’s not just about action—it’s about anticipation, uncertainty, and what’s left unsaid. Tension is what makes readers feel the weight of each moment.
- These three elements work best together. Conflict creates the situation, stakes give it depth, and tension adds emotional punch. Weak or missing one, and the others fall flat.
- Layering creates complexity. Don’t just rely on one type of conflict or stake. Mix external with internal, personal with societal. The more layered your story, the more real it feels.
- Emotion drives engagement. Whether it’s fear, hope, anxiety, or heartbreak, great stories make readers feel something. Conflict, stakes, and tension are how you get there.
