Tension and Control
Eight words for the moments when something pulls one way and something else pulls back.
Meet each word one at a time, then take the quiz to lock them in.
Eight words for the moments when something pulls one way and something else pulls back.
Meet each word one at a time, then take the quiz to lock them in.
Nelson's word
noun
Dilemma. A noun, and a heavy one, which I file under the difficult choice between two options when neither one is good. Notice the precision: a dilemma is not merely a hard decision. It is a hard decision with a catch, because every road out costs you something. Do you tell the truth and hurt a friend, or stay silent and let a wrong stand? Either way, you lose a little. When you write that a character faced a dilemma, you promise the reader there is no clean escape. State it precisely, and the tension holds.
The mayor faced a dilemma: raise taxes or close the library.
Ways to know it
Nelson's word
noun
Interval. A noun, and I file it under the space between two points, whether that space is made of time or of distance. The pause between two heartbeats is an interval. The gap between two fence posts is an interval. The word comes to us from the space between the walls of a fort, the ground you could not build on. Precision matters here: an interval is not the two points themselves; it is the measured gap that separates them. When you name an interval, you name the distance, and the distance is where the tension lives.
A long interval passed between the flash of lightning and the thunder.
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Vinny's word
verb
Undermine! Here is a verb that works in the dark, and it is mine. To undermine is to weaken a thing from below, quietly, one grain at a time, until the whole structure gives way! Picture the old sappers who dug tunnels under a castle wall until it collapsed on its own; that is the word, at its root, a mine dug under. When steady rumors undermine a coach, no single rumor topples him, but together they eat away the ground he stands on. That is the verb, and it is patient, which makes it dangerous. Watch for the slow ones.
Steady rumors undermine the coach's authority over the team.
Ways to know it
Vinny's word
verb
Mediate! A hero's verb if ever there was one, and it is mine! To mediate is to stand in the middle of a fight, hold both sides apart, and work them toward peace! Look at the heart of the word, the same medi you see in middle and medium; the mediator lives in the center, belonging to neither side. When a judge mediates a quarrel, she does not pick a winner. She helps two enemies build an agreement they can both stand on. That is the verb, and it takes more courage than swinging a fist. Anyone can pick a side; a hero holds the middle.
A neutral judge mediates the quarrel between the two neighbors.
Ways to know it
Jake's word
adjective
Arbitrary. An adjective, and mine, describing a choice made on a whim instead of a reason. An arbitrary rule, an arbitrary line, an arbitrary punishment: none of them rests on logic; each one could just as easily have gone the other way. Its Frown is deliberate, the choice made with care and cause. Could we be more specific than saying a decision felt unfair? We could say it was arbitrary, which tells the reader precisely why it stings: there was no reason behind it, only whim. Same complaint, sharper edge. Magnifique.
The referee's arbitrary call had no rule behind it at all.
Ways to know it
Jake's word
adjective
Inherent. An adjective, mine, describing a quality that is built in, a part of the thing from the start, not added on later. The risk inherent in a climb does not come from bad luck; it belongs to the climb itself. Its Frown is acquired, the trait you pick up along the way. Look at the word, inher-ent, it holds the sense of sticking fast inside. Could we be more specific than saying a danger was just there? We could call it inherent, and tell the reader the danger was baked in, inseparable from the thing itself.
There is an inherent risk in every climb up a sheer cliff.
Ways to know it
Benny's word
adverb
Spontaneously. An adverb, and mine, and I love the energy in it. It tells how an action happens: all at once, on its own, with no plan and no signal. The crowd spontaneously rises; nobody counted three, nobody gave a cue, the movement simply erupts from inside them. Here is the coaching point. A weak writer says the crowd suddenly cheered. You can do better. Spontaneously carries more than suddenly does; it says the cheer came unplanned, from the crowd's own feeling. Make the adverb do the work, and the sentence gets sharper. That is your job.
The whole crowd spontaneously rises to its feet and cheers.
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Benny's word
adverb
Implicitly. An adverb, mine, and a subtle one, so run with me here. It tells how something is communicated: not out loud, not in plain words, but underneath, by hint and by silence. When she implicitly agrees, she never says yes; her quiet says it for her. The opposite is explicitly, spelled out in the open. Coaching point: watch what implicitly can carry. A skilled writer lets a character reveal a whole feeling without one line of dialogue, and implicitly is the word that names that quiet technique. Master it, and you learn to write between the lines. You can do that.
By staying silent, she implicitly agrees to the plan.
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