Why Do Stories Hook Us? (Spoiler: It’s All About the Tension)

Ever been so hooked on a book or movie that the world could’ve ended, and you wouldn’t have noticed? That’s the magic of a good story at work. But then there are the stories that lull you to sleep—even after a full pot of coffee—because the writer missed out on the fundamentals of storytelling: tension. Without it, the plot flatlines, and readers tune out. The right amount of well-placed tension keeps the story moving and gives the reader the satisfaction they crave.

Tension is the invisible string that pulls the reader forward. It’s not just what happens—it’s how it happens and when answers are revealed. Good tension makes readers hold their breath, chew their nails, and whisper, ‘Just one more page.

If the story just hands the reader all the answers, there’s no reason to stay. 

Why does tension have this effect on us? Because as humans, we are wired to crave resolution, so tension pulls us towards reaching that satisfying end. 

Tension or Conflict?

Tension and story conflict are two different aspects of the plot. 

Think of tension as the anticipation, the simmering pot that’s about to boil over. Conflict, on the other hand, is the event… the fire under the pot. Conflict is part of the plot, painting a picture of a struggle with opposing forces. And the story can have several conflicts. When one is solved, another appears. 

Conflict drives the plot forward, while tension makes the reader feel why it matters. For example…

In A Series of Unfortunate Events, tension layers itself like a storm cloud. The children face conflict after conflict—losing caregivers, uncovering mysteries, and always escaping Count Olaf’s traps. Each new struggle raises the stakes. 

The tension doesn’t stop there. We feel it in any uneasy silence between siblings, the suspicious behavior of caretakers, and the lurking presence of Count Olaf himself (no, not the snowman—far worse!).

Count Olaf displays narcissism and psychopathy, which are human behaviors we pull away from.

Tension Builds Strength and Longevity

Just like in building construction, tension in storytelling distributes forces and keeps the structure strong. Without it, buildings collapse under pressure, and stories crumble under indifference.

Take Pride and Prejudice, for example—a novel written in 1797 and published in 1813, yet still captivating readers over two centuries later. Why? It’s not just because Mr. Darcy is played by gorgeous actors. It’s the, you guessed it, tension.

The Elizabeth-Darcy Tension

The tension between Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy takes many forms—misunderstanding, pride, and misjudgment. It builds slowly, compressing. Every interaction adds pressure, creating anticipation for resolution.

• When Darcy insults Elizabeth at the ball, we feel the spark of friction.

• When he proposes (disastrously) and Elizabeth rejects him, the tension peaks.

• Resolution comes only when both characters transform and release the pressure, leaving readers deeply satisfied.

The Elizabeth-Collins Tension

The tension here is different but equally effective. Mr. Collins' cringe-worthy proposal creates discomfort (a different kind of stress). When Elizabeth rejects him, it releases the immediate tension, only for it to transform into an uneasy calm between them when he marries her friend Charlotte. 

This one is clearly seen when she goes to visit Charlotte out in the country. Elizabeth is clearly happy for her friend, but Mr. Collins’ presence still gives that uneasy feel.

These big and small moments of tension are what give Pride and Prejudice its timeless appeal. We’ve all experienced these types of tensions—misunderstanding, discomfort, pride—and they give us hope that everything will work out in the end. That’s what makes the story so satisfying, even 200 years later.  

Jane Austen distributed the pressure so the story doesn’t “crack” or lose momentum. Though, the same can’t be said for all the retellings.

The TUT Method

TUT stands for time under tension. It’s a weightlifting technique where you slow down the movements of an exercise, forcing the muscle to remain under stress for longer. (Let me tell you, my triceps are still screaming from my last chest/tricep day. Highly effective, but brutal.) 

Why does it work? Because increased tension makes the muscles work harder, leading to better strength, endurance, and growth.

Stories thrive on the same principle. 

Sometimes, slowing down and making the tension last longer—stretching out key moments—creates a more powerful, lasting impact.

The story that comes to mind is J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings.

Tolkien didn’t rush. In fact, it took him 17 years to craft The Lord of the Rings. And yes, I do mean craft, not just write. That’s nearly two decades spent reworking, refining, and adding layers to a story that would later become one of the most enduring and beloved narratives in literary history.

Why did it take so long? Besides being a perfectionist, Tolkien understood the value of time under tension.

Reworking the Story

Much of The Lord of the Rings evolved from earlier works. Tolkien slowed down to rework elements of The Hobbit and tie in the deeper lore found in The Silmarillion. He carefully built the world of Middle-earth, piece by piece, and let tension simmer across characters, conflicts, and settings.

The level of lore, language, and depth is so amazing that you see inspiration in other stories, like Harry Potter and The Legend of Zelda.

Emotional Tension

Frodo’s journey to destroy the Ring is one of the most drawn-out examples of narrative tension in storytelling. Tolkien didn’t rush Frodo’s struggle. 

He made readers feel every step—every doubt, danger, and moment of hopelessness—until the climax became all the more rewarding. And yes, I still cry when Frodo boards the White Ship for the Undying Lands. (Oh no, I’m crying again just thinking about it!)

Real-World Influences

Tolkien’s experiences in World War I shaped the emotional and thematic tension of his stories. The sense of loss, sacrifice, and moral struggle mirrors the real-world weight so many carried. 

That emotional depth didn’t happen overnight. It was forged under years of thought and reflection, in the fires of Mount Doom.

Slowing the pace, letting tension build, and refusing to shortcut the journey allowed Tolkien to create a story with immense endurance. The time under tension spent crafting Middle-earth gave us characters and themes that resonate even today, nearly a century later.

What This Means for Your Stories

For starters, you don’t have to lift weights or create Tolkien-level epics. Instead, slow down in key moments of your stories.

• Don’t rush the emotional beats.

• Let readers feel the weight of a scene.

• Build tension with intention, because tension leads to growth.

The next time you’re writing, ask yourself:

Am I rushing this moment, or should I stretch it out?

Will this tension make the payoff more satisfying for my reader?

Tolkien let Frodo’s journey simmer so every step mattered. Austen wove tension through Elizabeth and Darcy’s friction, making the resolution unforgettable. Even the uneasiness in A Series of Unfortunate Events moves the story with stormy momentum.

Tension is what makes your story strong, your characters grow, and your readers stay. Build it carefully, and they’ll remember your story long after they turn the last page.

After all, the best stories are built under the right amount of tension.

Word Count: ~1,188
Challenge Total: ~4,710

Curious about the word count? Read here.